Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) (26 page)

My turn approaching, I compassionately let a young mother with a cranky toddler go ahead while I craned my head trying to hear Stuart.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the young woman began again, “but your credit card has been rejected. I’ve run it through twice. Now you’ll have to pay for these things with cash or step aside and let the next person through.”

A man I recognized as the assistant manager arrived and told Stuart to either pay for the things or please leave the store. After a few more exchanges, Stuart threw a few bills down on the counter and left.

Dumping my groceries on my kitchen table fifteen minutes later, I went to light the pumpkins and squash on my front porch. Although late, I felt as if I was never home and Halloween was slipping away from me. Their bright faces and crooked teeth smiled up at me and I faced them toward the empty street. The people across the road had several pumpkins on their front walk along with a scarecrow in the middle of their yard. Somewhere in the neighborhood someone had a fire going and the acrid scent filled the night air. It was certainly a good night for it. The sky looked like a blue-black carpet dotted with silver and the moon, a soft yellow, peeked through the branches of the maple in my front yard.

As I put my groceries away, I thought about what had just happened at the store. I knew Stuart gambled but could it possibly be so bad that he couldn’t afford to buy food? I wondered if Mrs. Brissart knew of her grandson’s trouble.

“J.T. is still missing, so to speak,” John said very early the next morning.

“Huh?” I asked from my position snuggled under my snowman-printed down comforter.

“Did I wake you?” John asked over the phone with mock innocence.

It was literally the crack of dawn. He didn’t want to come all the way over to my house—all five extra miles—so he said he would meet me at my office in half an hour with a cup of hot tea. I told him to give me forty-five minutes and there had better be a few vanilla scones to go with it.

“No one has seen him for a while. I’d really like to talk with him, though I can’t imagine why he would kill Bradley. Unless he didn’t know of Roberta’s dislike of the cookies, and we’re back to her as the intended victim.” John shrugged as he sat across from me in my office.

“Steven had nothing against Bradley,” John, who was Mr. Chatterbox this morning, continued. “Trish liked him, Larry and April thought he was a dear boy, and other than Bradley trying to steal one of Larry’s inventions, I can’t find a reason for them to kill him.” John took the lid off his coffee and reached for my tea.

“Thanks.” I took the hot tea from his hands. “And thanks for bringing scones. Who else did you talk with?” I took a bite of a scone and wiped a bit of the frosting from my chin.

“June. And she’s furious with Roberta for May’s plight and she blames her older sister for the fact that J.T. is gone. June said something to the effect of slapping the stuffing out of Roberta the next time she sees her, which, she hopes, will be never. I told her the feeling was mutual. She doesn’t seem to care about Bradley one way or the other. Stuart wasn’t there on the night in question. Probably out gambling. I think the guy’s got a real problem. He’s definitely on edge.”

I told John about what I witnessed at the grocery store last night.

“What about the footprints outside the window? Did anything ever come of them?” I asked.

“Nothing. I sure wish whoever is the guilty party would just spill the beans like May did.”

I chuckled at John’s pun and reached for an apple, having had the forethought to bring along something nutritious knowing John’s eating habits.

“Where is everybody?”

“It is awfully early, John.” I tried in vain to stifle a yawn.

John finished his second pastry and kissed me good-bye just as Millie arrived.

With Halloween tomorrow, our offices had been completely transformed. Every available window in the front had been festooned with ghosts and witches and Millie had draped fake webs on almost everything. Even the front door managed to squeak when I opened it; an addition I hoped would be put to rights after Halloween. Sam and I had to admit that it looked nice. Millie even added a bowl of assorted candies to the table in the waiting area and it had already been replenished once though whether that was because of the applicants or Sam, I wasn’t sure.

After an hour and a half of very fruitless labor, I told Millie I was going to Mills Pond to visit my grandfather. Sam still hadn’t showed up and I suspected my sister was still enmeshed in feathers.

Mills Pond was housed in an old mansion on a beautifully landscaped knoll not far from the center of town. Set back from the main thoroughfare, it had a country feel without being too far away for the residents to receive visitors on a regular basis. After my grandmother died, grandpa became increasingly lonely and decided to live out his life in this bucolic setting.

I pulled into a space happy to see the home awash in festive decorations. I made my way up a path lavishly lined with pumpkins and lanterns and entered through the giant wooden door. The grand foyer was also decorated but with what seemed like homemade decorations contributed by the arts and crafts group.

“Alex Harris, isn’t it?” asked a calm looking woman of about forty-five, well dressed in a tailored suit.

“Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”

“Your mother said you’d probably be coming by and I recognized you from the Fourth of July picnic. I’m Mrs. Potter. Carolyn,” she said extending her hand.

“Oh, yes. Nice to see you again. Is this a good time for a visit?”

“It’s actually a very good time.” Carolyn gave me a conspiratorial wink.

“Really?”

Carolyn Potter gently took hold of my arm and steered me in the direction of a new wing where my grandfather had his small apartment. “Do you remember Lucy McDermott, dear?”

“The woman my grandfather is…dating?” I asked with a grimace remembering my grandfather’s amorous advance to Lucy last Christmas involving a bow tie and little else. “Is she all right?” I asked, tentatively thinking that Lucy must be nearing ninety years old.

“Oh, yes, she’s fine. Not to worry.” Carolyn patted my arm. “Your grandfather and Lucy had a bit of a tiff last night at our weekly movie screening. Lucy was doing a bit of unabashed flirting with Hector Moralis. He’s new, and your grandfather became quite agitated.”

I winced. “He didn’t…?”

“No, no. Nothing like the last time.” Carolyn chuckled, clearly entertained by the goings-on of her octogenarian flock. “He’s just rather depressed today. Wouldn’t eat his breakfast. Refused to see Lucy when she asked to see him this morning. Maybe you can straighten him out. Lucy just wanted to get his goat. Your grandfather paid a bit too much attention to Thelma Whitford at the stepping class this week.”

I stopped short, causing Carolyn to trip. “My grandfather does an aerobic stepping class?”

“Not quite. They sit in chairs and lift their feet onto blocks. Gets the juices flowing, if you know what I mean.” She leaned into me and gave me another wink. “He started to pinch her. First on the thigh, then, well, a bit higher.”

“Jesus,” I moaned. “Why does he do this stuff? He was always so refined and now, well he’s a…a perverted lothario.”

“Who knows,” Carolyn said with a shrug. “Last time he had that urinary tract infection and it made him disoriented, but now, he’s just having a bit of fun. He’s harmless.” Carolyn stopped in front of a door and knocked then gently pushed the door open. “Mr. Harris, we have a visitor for you. Your granddaughter. I’ll leave you two alone.” Carolyn walked out and closed the door.

“Hi Grandpa, it’s me, Alex.” I took off my coat and laid it on the back of a chair.

Grandpa Harris turned from his staring out the window and smiled at me. “This is a nice surprise. Your mother didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

“They left for London last night and asked that I look in on you. And just in time by the looks of it. You need to eat your breakfast, Grandpa.”

“Pooh,” James Harris grumbled. “So they’re off to London. Good. Finally moved out of that old house.”

“They didn’t move. They went on a vacation with their seniors group. They’ll only be gone two weeks.” I leaned forward on my chair. “So what’s all this I hear about you and Lucy? Sounds like you had it coming.” I smiled across at the white-haired man who still had a twinkle in his eye.

“Maybe,” he said turning his long nose up. “The movie was good, though. Mrs. Potter’s son was in it. He’ a wizard, that one.” Grandpa bent his index finger and motioned for me to lean closer. “That must mean that Carolyn is a witch!” He let out a hearty laugh and I bent over and kissed his forehead.

“You old coot.”

Back behind my desk a couple hours later, I got some good and bad news, with the good news arriving first.

“That was Mr. Reiser on the phone just now. He reviewed the proposal over night and we got the job!” Sam said.

“Well, that is good news.” I gave my sister the thumbs up sign. “And it’s all thanks to you and Millie. I didn’t have much of a hand in it at all.”

As delighted as we felt, it was going to be a lot of work. We hadn’t given much attention to sales people in the past, never having had a need. Our specialty had always been in the area of administrative and secretarial support. Sam didn’t really see what the difference was going to be and I had to agree. We would just approach the recruitment in the same way that we always did.

“Well, that’s a load off my mind. This should open up some new prospects for us. And one of our clients who went over to that other agency is back. I didn’t ask for any details, didn’t want to put her on the spot, but I’m glad she’s back.” Sam plopped herself in a chair and brushed feathers from her navy blue pants. “So how’s Grandpa? Millie said you went to see him this morning.”

I gave her a noncommittal smile. “He’s fine.”

“Yes, but was he dressed?” Sam smirked.

“Completely. Thank God.”

“Alex, you better take this call. Line one,” Millie said from the doorway.

I picked up the phone and in less than a minute hung up and leaned back in my chair while total shock clouded my face.

“Well?” Sam asked impatiently.

“That was Chantal. Mr. Kaminski is dead.”

To say that Chantal Bradbury was upset was like saying that Hurricane Andrew was a tropical breeze. The woman bordered on hysteria.

“Chantal, calm down. The paramedics said he’s alive. They’re taking him to the hospital. We need to contact Mrs. Brissart and any relatives he has in the area,” I said from where I sat next to Chantal on the front porch of the Brissart home.

When Chantal called, she told me it had happened again. What
it
was became immediately apparent the moment I arrived. The driveway teamed with police and an ambulance that Chantal had called soon after she arrived at the house.

“I can’t believe it. First Bradley and now Mr. Kaminski. This place is cursed!”

I went into the house in search of a glass of water. “Here. Drink this.”

Chantal took several sips from the glass and put her head between her legs. After a few minutes she looked up and put the glass on the porch. “Thanks. I think I’m okay.”

“Chantal, what on earth happened?” I scanned the driveway for John’s car but didn’t see it.

“I didn’t plan to come in today. I was supposed to meet Anthony in the city for lunch and then planned on getting a head start on my Christmas shopping.” She reached for the glass again. “Well, he called about nine-thirty to say something came up at the office and he couldn’t get away for lunch. So I did a few errands and then came over here. I thought I would check the mail and get some letters out if there was anything urgent.” Several policemen walked passed us and made their way into the house. “Anyway, I went down the hall into the office and checked the answering machine. It felt kind of breezy in there. I didn’t see any windows open and I checked to make sure I had closed the front door. But I still felt a draft, so I walked around and found the back door opened. The screen was closed but the door was open. I figured Mr. Kaminski must be outside so I called to him. Nothing.

“I went out onto the back porch and called to him again. I knew he had to be out there, his truck was parked in back, so I walked a ways and then I saw him behind a rhododendron. He was lying there with blood around his head. I walked a bit closer but he wasn’t moving so I ran back into the house and called the police and then you.”

“Maybe he fell while working out in the yard. He’s getting on in years and he might have lost his balance.”

“Alex, I almost didn’t come. Say I hadn’t. He would have been out there for God knows how long.”

I sensed hysteria taking over again. “Chantal! Listen to me. You
did
come. You
did
get help. And he’s still alive. Let’s wait to see what the doctors have to say.”

At the sound of tires on gravel, Chantal and I looked up to see John and Detective Maroni drive onto the property. They parked behind a squad car and conferred with an officer before coming over to where we sat.

“Mrs. Bradbury, Mrs. Brissart should be called. Do you know if Mr. Kaminski has family in Indian Cove?”

“Not here, but in Milford. He has a brother and sister-in-law. I’ve got their number in a card file in the study.”

We went into the house and Chantal handed the numbers to John and asked if he could make the call. John reached Mr. Kaminski’s brother on the first try and told him the name of the hospital the old man had been taken to. He next phoned Mrs. Brissart in Hartford but got no answer. Out of the corner of my eye I saw activity in the hall and out back and wondered why there were so many people coming and going if it was an accident. When John hung up, I turned questioning eyes to him.

“It looks like he was hit over the head. Someone must have come up from behind. And then he fell on a rock. Though not a very big one, thank God.”