Bantam of the Opera (21 page)

Corinne looked up, her wide, good-natured face flushed with exertion. “Sure. You know me, with this family, I've got a refrigerator that would hold a moose. I'll send Dooley over to get them after he finishes his paper route. I've got to start dinner.”

Back inside, Judith searched for the plastic bag that contained Corinne's pips. Vaguely, she recalled that she hadn't seen them a few days earlier either, when she'd offered some to Renie. Surely they had got stuck behind the myriad jars and containers that filled the bottom shelf. Judith kept looking.

But after going over every inch of shelving, drawers and racks, she found no sign of the pips. It didn't seem likely that any of her guests would have thrown them out by ac
cident. Indeed, they hadn't bothered to throw out their own rotting produce. Judith was standing in front of the refrigerator, chewing on her lower lip, when Edna Fiske entered the kitchen.

“I hope Mrs. Pacetti doesn't overexert herself,” Edna remarked with a worried air. “She and Mr. Plunkett have been gone for hours. Would you mind if I made a cup of tea?”

“No, go ahead.” Judith was still frowning at the refrigerator. “I don't suppose you noticed a bag of little tuberlike things in here?”

“You mean shallots or something?” Edna was filling the teakettle.

“Not exactly. They're thin, with a runner and roots. Lily-of-the-valley pips, to be precise. I was saving them for my neighbor.”

Edna Fiske was shocked. “In the refrigerator? My, that's risky! They're highly toxic, you know. A person can die from merely drinking the water in which the flowers have been placed. You should have kept them in a cool place, like your basement.”

Judith gave Edna a faintly remorseful look. “I had the bag tied pretty tight. Anyway, I don't think anybody would mistake them for…” Her jaw dropped and she gaped at Edna. “My God! You say they're
poisonous?
”

“Oh, very,” Edna replied, taking a tea bag out of the cannister on the counter. “You'd be surprised how many ordinary plants and shrubs and flowers are potentially dangerous. It's no wonder so many children get poisoned in their own backyards. Or drinking the water that picked flowers have been in. Why, when I was working the pediatric wing at…” It was her turn to stop and stare in horror. “Mrs. McMonigle! Are you thinking that Mr. Pacetti ate those pips?”

“I sure am,” Judith said, running her hands through her short silver-streaked hair. “There were at least two dozen of them. Would that do it?” Judith knew she had turned very pale; Edna also looked ashen.

“Oh, definitely.” The teakettle boiled, making both women jump. With hands that were none too steady, Edna poured the hot water into a mug. “I'm not an expert in toxicology, but I know that lily-of-the-valley pips are often mistaken for wild garlic, and if used in quantity, can cause death.”

Judith had already sat down at the kitchen table, drinking the dregs of her scotch. Edna joined her, dipping the tea bag in and out of the mug in a jerky motion.

“That's got to be it,” breathed Judith, staring now at Edna's tea. “What do you know about Strophanthin?”

Edna wrinkled her long nose. “The heart medication? Not a great deal. It's uncommon in this country. I believe the antidote is…strong tea.” She gazed into her mug with a certain amount of revulsion.

“How much of it would it take to kill someone? Especially,” Judith added with a lifted eyebrow, “if that person had drunk a lot of tea?”

“Oh, my.” Edna's big teeth clamped onto her lower lip. “Quite a lot, I should think.”

Judith got her purse form the counter and produced the empty bottle. “Does it come in something like this? Would a bottle this size be enough?”

The nurse examined the little vial through the plastic bag. “I couldn't say, really…I don't know that I've ever seen it. Frankly, I'd be dubious. I presume you're talking about Mr. Pacetti? Besides taking the antidote, he was quite a big man. Around, I mean. I can only guess, but I would calculate that it would require three or four times that amount for a lethal dose. Under the circumstances.”

“Ah.” Judith leaned back in her chair. “That explains it. Or could. Except…” She frowned again. The pieces were there, but they didn't yet fit together. “How would a person use those pips, I wonder?”

Edna Fiske considered carefully. “Any number of ways. Most likely, I should think, in food. A salad, a casserole, anything that had a lot of ingredients. I have no idea what
they taste like.” She shuddered. “Mr. Pacetti was the sort who bolted his food. Unhealthy, but typical.”

“Very unhealthy,” muttered Judith, wondering why Edna's statement should jar her any more than the nurse's usual pronouncements on health. Judith gazed at her refrigerator as if it had betrayed her.

“Strophanthin,” mused Edna Fiske, apparently having composed herself. “It's a heart medication, a form of digitoxin. Which is interesting, given this particular situation.” Having come to grips with the horror of it all, Edna Fiske's homely face brightened with professional zeal. She actually preened a little in her crisp white uniform. “Another thing I remember about lily of the valley is that it's often mistaken for digitalis. It wouldn't be unheard of for a medical examiner to come up with the incorrect poison.”

In Judith's brain, the pieces shifted around, like peas in a shell game. “No kidding!” Suddenly, she was anxious for Edna to go away. Judith wanted to call Renie. And Woody, too.

But Edna Fiske was inclined to linger over her tea. “In nursing school, I was very intrigued by poisons,” she said. “People don't realize that almost every ingestible item they have in their house or garden is potentially toxic. You realize, I assume, that Mr. Pacetti may have eaten those pips by accident.”

Judith blinked. “I hadn't thought of that.” It was, of course, possible. But somehow Judith didn't think it was likely. On the contrary, the accident theory sounded like a good cover-up for a murderer.

 

Dooley had arrived a few minutes later, his carrier's pouch still slung around his neck. The lanky blond teenager was a member of the Police Auxiliary, and as such, entitled to take on certain law enforcement duties. He had been an enthusiastic amateur sleuth during the fortune-teller investigation and had also joined in to help track down the killer of a fellow parishioner at Easter time. But over the summer, Dooley had found a new passion—
Brianna Stein, the fifteen-year-old daughter of Judith's neighbors at the end of the cul-de-sac. Dooley had thus far been indifferent to the poisoning of Mario Pacetti.

“Sorry, Dooley,” said Judith, who had finally been left alone by Edna Fiske and was about to call Renie, “I'll have to dig up some more pips. The ones I was saving for your mother got…lost.”

Dooley shrugged. He had, Judith decided, grown at least two inches since she'd seen him up close a few weeks earlier. At almost sixteen, he was well over six feet of arms, legs, and erratic blond hair. “That's okay,” he said. “I don't even know what pips are.”

“They're not the berry things you sometimes see on the plants. They're more like rootstock,” Judith explained, surprised at Dooley's lack of botanical knowledge. Unlike the majority of his peers, Dooley was a voracious reader, with a retentive memory. Judith wondered if he'd given everything up in the name of puppy love. From the looks of his too-skinny frame, she decided that he'd definitely given up eating. “Have you quit Police Auxiliary work?” Judith asked as Dooley lounged in the doorway.

“Huh?” He shifted his gaze, which had drifted off toward the driveway which led to the cul-de-sac where the Steins lived at the corner. “Oh—yeah, sort of. That's kid stuff. They don't let you do much, except hang out at rock concerts and try to see who's sneaking in drugs and chains and booze and guns and stuff like that.”

“That's pretty boring, all right,” said Judith, trying not to look aghast. “I just thought that with Mr. Pacetti getting poisoned, you might have volunteered to help with the investigation. You know, being neighbors and all.”

“Mr. Who?” Dooley blinked uncomprehendingly at Judith.

“Never mind.” Judith started to explain that maybe over the weekend she'd be able to find some more pips in the garden, but Dooley was again staring at the partial view of the Steins' house. “According to Arlene Rankers, they're coming back Friday.”

“I know.” Dooley's beardless face somehow displayed both hope and desolation. “She's missed almost two weeks of school.”

Judith wondered if
she
, who obviously must be Brianna, had also missed Dooley. As the veteran mother of a former teenage boy, Judith knew better than to ask. “It'll be hard to catch up,” she said, seeking neutral ground.

“Not for Brianna,” Dooley asserted. “She's a four-point student. We're going to build a Mayan ruin when she gets back. For our science project.”

“Sounds great,” Judith said with enthusiasm. At least it sounded as if Dooley hadn't given up entirely on the external world. With a bemused expression, she watched him lope off toward the picket fence, his gaze still lingering in the direction of the Stein residence. Judith went back inside and dialed Renie's number.

Renie wasn't home. Judith remembered that her cousin was meeting Madge Navarre for dinner before the opera performance. It was now after five-thirty. She called Woody Price, but he'd left work for the day. Debating whether or not to bother him at home, she jumped when the phone rang in her hand. It was Melissa Bargroom, sounding slightly breathless.

“Your adorable but ditzy cousin is out,” said Melissa, “so I took the liberty of calling you. I'm on my way to a chamber music concert, but I heard something today that I thought you two would want to know, lest I get killed by a flying cello in the next few hours.”

“I didn't know chamber groups were so violent,” responded Judith, smiling into the receiver. She refrained from asking Melissa if ticket holders were patted down for weapons, booze, and drugs. “What's up?” Judith settled onto the kitchen stool, wondering if she dared fix herself a second scotch.

“I called a colleague of mine in New York this afternoon,” said Melissa, speaking more rapidly than usual. “I felt like such a dunce not knowing more about the Pacetti lash-up. Well, I didn't glean anything more about Pacetti,
but I certainly learned some interesting background on Inez and—” She took an audible breath and raised her voice. “—her stepson, Justin Green.”

“Whoa!” Judith covetously eyed the liquor cabinet across the room. “Justin
Green?
To be or not to be confused with Justin
Kerr?
”

“To be the same.” Melissa chuckled. “Justin Green changed his name when his parents split up about fifteen years ago. His father was dead set against his becoming a singer, but his mother thought it was a terrific idea. I suspect that's one of the battles that led to the war. In any event, Justin took his mother's maiden name, which was Kerr.”

“So that's why the police can't find a marriage license under Justin Kerr,” murmured Judith, hopping off the stool to stretch the phone cord so she could reach the liquor cabinet. “And it could explain how his mother could be Tippy's aunt and they'd still have the same name. I think,” she added, muddled by the convolutions of her own brain.

“Marriage license?” Melissa's echo was breathless, but she didn't wait for a response. “I've got to speed this up, the concert's at seven-thirty. I'd rather be hearing Justin sing Alfredo, but the chamber group was prescheduled. Anyway, his father, Cornelius Green, married Inez Garcia after he and Justin's mother divorced. Ironic, what? They met at some big do at Faneuil Hall. The marriage lasted about seven years. I haven't had a chance to check dates. But the bottom line is that Inez is—or was—Justin's stepmother.
Voilà!
”

“Wow.” Judith was all but chinning herself on the bottom cabinet below her liquor stash. The phone cord was stretched to its limits. So was Judith. “And where is Mr. Green? Cornelius, I mean. Corny Green? That's awful!” She struggled to reach the bottle of scotch.

“Right, but I don't suppose anybody except his old Ivy League cronies call him that. He's the CEO of a big insurance company in Connecticut. Halcyon Insurance of New Haven. He wanted Justin to follow in his footsteps as a
peddler of policies, rather than a singer of songs. I've got to run, Judith. I can't imagine how this helps, but it
is
interesting.”

Judith fumbled at the bottle, finally bringing it to rest against her bosom. “It sure is. Why didn't more people know there was a family connection between Inez and Justin?”

“They probably did, back East. But think about it—Justin hasn't yet made a name for himself. He was a musical nonentity while his father was married to Inez. And I can't imagine that she was much of a stepmother. She was too busy with her career—so was Corny, with his. That's why they split up, I'm told. They were hardly ever on the same continent, let alone in the same bed. Inez and Justin probably have seen more of each other on the opera stage than they ever did in the old family dining room.”

“True.” Judith bore down on the receiver, which was trapped between her ear and shoulder. The bottle of scotch slipped out of her hands, fell on the floor, but did not break. She grimaced, but tried to keep her voice carefree. “Thanks, Melissa. You've done good work.”

“I owed you one,” said Melissa. “As a source, I was a journalistic vacuum. Got to dash. 'Bye.”

Judith, bemused by Melissa's news and grateful that the music critic hadn't pressed her for other developments, got down on her knees to pick up the liquor bottle. She jumped again when Edna Fiske's voice pealed in her ear.