Fruit of the Poisoned Tree (14 page)

Paul was barely awake when they called him back to work. He ate the last of the cheesecake and strawberries before rushing out the door.

Peggy sat down at the table to watch television and see how the city fared during the night. “I guess it’s just you and me again.” She patted Shakespeare’s massive head as she fed him.

The snow had stopped a little after midnight. Now everyone was digging out of six inches of ice and snow that locked up all of Charlotte, including the airport. The police were advising that no one venture out on the streets unless it was an emergency. Just seeing the cars skidding to the side of the empty interstate was enough to convince most people. But there was always someone with a Jeep who thought he knew better.

There was a small mention of Isabelle’s death during the night. But two other people had died as well, their deaths attributed to the storm, so the station didn’t devote much time to it. Maybe it had been resolved. Maybe the old lady
did
die from some natural cause. Peggy closed her eyes and prayed it was something simple, but she knew she wouldn’t be happy until she found out.

By the time she checked on her plants, walked the dog, and got dressed in a warm turquoise wool pantsuit, the snow was melting under the bright February sun. The blue sky was blinding against what was left of the white landscape. The frozen night was miserable for police and county road crews who tried to keep people in their homes and out of ditches. They were still up and patrolling the city, blear-eyed with lack of sleep but dedicated to their work.

Most residents of the Queen City were happy to oblige the call to stay home, especially the children who missed school that day. School buses and drivers weren’t equipped to handle bad weather. They’d have to make the day up somewhere, probably out of a teacher workday.

Peggy slogged through what was left of the slush, stepping around a frozen camellia bush whose bright red flowers struggled through the cold.
You’re a flame in my heart.
She translated the flower’s meaning as other people translate French or Spanish. She brushed some of the snow and ice from it before she crossed the street. With the weight lifted off of it, the glossy green branches sprang back up from the sidewalk. “That’s better!”

She made her way to Isabelle’s house on foot. It wasn’t more than a mile. She missed her bike, forgetting how slow it was to walk, but she was worried the frozen ruts in the road would be too hard to maneuver. And there were the abandoned cars littering the streets, parked on the side and in the center.
A good time to be a tow truck driver,
she mused as she watched some of them at work.

She was hoping not to see police cars and the crime scene van when she finally reached the street where Park grew up, but she was disappointed. It meant nothing was resolved. Isabelle’s death was questionable. It was as easy to read
that
as it was to know what the flowers meant.

Park’s ex-wife, Cindy, was standing on the steps talking to police officers. Her golden hair was perfectly groomed around her pretty face as she dabbed delicately at her tears. Peggy’s eyes narrowed.
What is she doing here?

“Good morning! Is it all right if I come through?” Peggy ignored the yellow crime scene tape to approach Al and Lieutenant Rimer when she saw them outside the two-story, redbrick home.

“No!” Jonas Rimer stalked toward her, his arms waving like a frantic scarecrow. “It is
not
okay if you come through. This is a crime scene, Peggy. That doesn’t mean someone can cross the line just because they know a few police officers.”

“Well it’s more than that, Jonas,” she assured him. “I knew Isabelle. She was at my shop yesterday. I was hoping you could tell me what happened to her.”

“Nothing happened to her,” he said. “Go home. Read the paper like everybody else. You shouldn’t be out on the street anyway. You might fall and break something.”

“If nothing happened, why are
you
here?” Peggy’s eyebrows raised above impertinent green eyes. She decided to ignore his agitated remarks about her fragility. The man was under pressure and obviously not himself. “Come on, Jonas. You might as well tell me. You know I can stand here and ask questions until I find out.”

“We think she was pushed down the stairs,” Al explained as he shrugged. “You might as well tell her, Lieutenant. She’s gonna find out anyway.”

“So is everyone else in the city.” Jonas turned on him furiously. “But we aren’t going to go around with a loudspeaker telling
everyone
what happened.”

Al put his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. But she
did
help us on the Warner case. And she
did
try to help us with Isabelle Lamonte’s accusation.”

“Yes she did.” Jonas smiled at Peggy. “And I know you’re in tight with most of the bigwigs in this city. But you can’t help with this one. You should go home and wait for the six o’clock news.”

“It’s terrible about Isabelle.” Peggy pushed past Jonas toward Al as if she hadn’t heard him. “But why the police investigation? She always kept the house as dark and cold as a tomb. She probably missed the top stair and fell.”

“The lieutenant thinks the
other
Mrs. Lamonte might be involved. We heard about the scene between them over at her house yesterday.” Al glanced back at Cindy Walker. “And you know we had that call from the elder Mrs. Lamonte about her daughter-in-law being involved in her husband’s death. It didn’t make any sense yesterday. Today, it might need some answers.”

“It still doesn’t make any sense today.” Peggy wished she could get inside and take a look around. What could possibly be in there that could make them suspect Beth?

“That was before this happened,” Jonas decided to tell her before Al said it all. “We found some suspicious circumstances in the house. Enough to investigate anyway. The crime scene people have been here all night.”

“What kind of circumstances?” Peggy looked at both of them.

“Never mind.” Jonas checked himself and glared at Al. “And if you know what’s good for you, Detective, you won’t say anything else about this either.”

Al scuffed his shoe on the wet sidewalk. “Sorry, Peggy. That’s about all I can tell you.”

She had to be satisfied with that verdict. A tumble down the stairs didn’t sound very suspicious to her, especially since Isabelle was crippled and losing her sight. What did they find that made them think it was anything but an accident? “Does that mean you’re going to question Beth about Park’s death again, too?”

“That’s none of your business.” Jonas took her arm and guided her out of Isabelle’s front yard. A large blob of snow fell out of a pear tree right on his head. He brushed it off as he said, “You’ll have to wait until our investigation is finished.”

“Jonas, you need a good cleansing! The toxins have backed up in your body at an alarming rate,” she alerted him. “If you don’t go home and drink some milk thistle and goldenseal, you’re going to catch a cold at the very least!”

He wrinkled his forehead, obviously trying to figure out what she was talking about and finally waved her away. “Go home, Peggy.
Please!
My toxins will just have to be happy with some coffee and donuts later.”

She shrugged. “It’s your life.” She looked back at the gloomy house that seemed to glower back at her. Only an old red camellia bush at one corner told a different story about happier times the house had seen. Had Isabelle planted it there when she was young and in love?

She hadn’t been inside the house for years, even though Beth and Park’s home was only a few blocks away. Since Park Senior died, Isabelle kept to herself. She let her world shrink around her until all that existed was her anger and fear. Is that what finally claimed her?

It made Peggy shiver to think she could have been the same as Isabelle after John’s death. She could’ve holed up in her house with her plants and her memories until they came and found her dead, too. She shook off the melancholy thought and pretended to examine an ice-glazed holly bush near the front door. The large bush would shrug off the ice as soon as the sun hit it. She knew that, but made a project out of trying to free some of its glossy green leaves from the cold.

Al and Jonas ignored her as they talked to officers who finished canvassing the neighborhood for anyone who might have seen a strange vehicle or person at the house before Isabelle died. Peggy listened to the reports intently without being noticed. No one saw or heard anything unusual. The neighbors were used to Isabelle’s house being quiet. They knew she lived alone and tried to keep an eye on her.

While they were engaged in asking questions and getting statements, Peggy made her way to the back of the house and slipped in through the porch. The door into the kitchen was open, so she let herself in the house. The fifties-style kitchen and dining room were spotless, almost appearing untouched.

The last time she was in Isabelle’s house it was the same way. Like a museum. That was on the occasion of Park Senior’s death. His death seemed to fit the house that was already like a tomb. She and John had left the crowd gathered there as quickly as possible after paying their respects.

Peggy looked for Mai Sato, Paul’s girlfriend, and a member of the crime scene team. She found her at the bottom of the long mahogany staircase. Her shoulder-length, straight black hair was covering the side of her face as she worked gathering samples from the red Turkish carpet.

Mai sat back on her heels and rubbed at a spot in her lower back. She looked up and saw Peggy’s inquisitive face. Startled, her large, black-rimmed glasses almost fell off her face. “Hi!” She glanced at the door. “How did you get in? I could’ve sworn Lieutenant Rimer would rather have an elephant step on him than get you involved in another case.”

“You’re probably right. He doesn’t know I’m in here.” Peggy nodded toward the kitchen at the end of the long, dark hallway. “I came in through the back door. He was too busy to notice. What have you found so far?”

The silky black hair swung back and forth as Mai shook her head. Her pretty mouth pursed, and her brown eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell you. You
know
that.”

“You can at least tell me why everyone doesn’t think this was an accident,” Peggy prompted. “Maybe she had a heart attack. Maybe she slipped on the stairs.”

“And maybe somebody pushed her.” Mai smiled at her. “All right. I know how you are. I’ll tell you what I know, then you better get out of here before somebody else sees you. Rimer is likely to put us both in jail!”

“Okay,” Peggy whispered. “Tell me fast.”

Mai explained that Isabelle’s housekeeper, Alice Godwin, called to make sure the woman was all right. “That was just after six. She was worried about Mrs. Lamonte getting upset about the snow.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought Isabelle got upset about a little snow.”

“Well, apparently she was okay at that point. Anyway, around ten o’clock last night, Mrs. Godwin came to check on her. When she got here, she found Mrs. Lamonte at the foot of the stairs. She wasn’t moving or breathing. Mrs. Godwin called 911.”

Peggy put her hand to her chest. “Poor Isabelle.”
Does Beth know Alice was Isabelle’s housekeeper, too? That’s too much of a coincidence. No wonder Isabelle knew about the life insurance policy.

“The ambulance came, and the paramedics pronounced her at the scene, but they noticed a few suspicious things and called the police.”

“Like
what
?” Peggy tried to get to the heart of the matter.

“Ms. Godwin said Mrs. Lamonte never walked anywhere without her cane. We found it on that chair over there.”

Mai pointed to a heavy gold brocade chair that had been in the alcove beside the stairway for as long as Peggy could remember. She went to look at the carved stick without touching the plastic bag that covered it. “Alice is right. Since she hurt her hip in the seventies when she was thrown from her horse, Isabelle never walked without her cane. Why would she be upstairs without it? And where’s the dragon?”

“We think someone was in the house with her. Maybe she fell down, and the person took the cane and put it in the chair. It’s just a theory right now. What dragon?”

Peggy pointed to the top of the cane. “There’s a large ivory dragon’s head that belongs on the top of that stick.”

They searched the foyer and the stairs, but there was no sign of it. Mai shook her head. “I don’t know. But I saw some hair and blood on the side of the cane. Maybe the dragon’s head came off when someone hit her with it.”

“Whoever did this might have taken it with her.” Peggy couldn’t help but recall what John always said about the person who found the body.

“If you’re thinking about Ms. Godwin, don’t bother. She was at a Church function last night. But look at this.” Mai moved aside so Peggy could see the chalk outline of where Isabelle’s body had been at the base of the stairs. At the tip of the silhouette of one outstretched hand was a letter. “We think it may be written in her own blood.”

Peggy crouched down carefully beside the startling piece of evidence. Just between the stairs and the Turkish carpet was a thinly traced letter on the dark wood floor. It was clearly a
B.
Even though the hand that wrote it was shaking, there was no mistaking the intent. “Good God! I can’t believe this is happening.”

Mai put her hand on her shoulder. “I know you’re friends with Beth Lamonte. I don’t know what to say. Maybe the old lady knew what she was talking about when she accused her daughter-in-law of killing her son. And maybe the other Mrs. Lamonte thought she could put an end to the whole thing by trying to make this look like an accident. She didn’t realize the old lady was still alive when she left.”

Peggy carefully got to her feet. She looked down at the circled spot on the carpet.
When had Isabelle ever called Beth by her given name? If she referred to her by any name, it was “that woman.”
“Beth didn’t do this. I don’t know what’s going on, but someone is setting her up. We have to find out who.”