Poison Flowers (22 page)

“I’ve been thinking about this ever since that time in North Carolina, since that moment we had. About how…intense…we could be together. You know, if we…if I just…took a little of your essence. Your tiger essence…” he faltered. “You don’t understand, I know, but…but think about it…”

Dorry was bewildered. “Think about what, Fred? What moment in North Carolina?”

Barnes closed his eyes, sadness creasing his features. “The competition. Raleigh. You took me down in round one. I saw it there for just a moment, in just that instance, that tiger essence in your eyes. I was shamed, yes, completely, but I realized, in that shame, that this day would come. That one day we would merge forces and be one powerful force to be reckoned with. That our two schools would become one.”

Dorry was becoming aggravated. “Freddy, what are you talking about? What does that have to do with Denny?” She paused as she heard Marya’s warning hiss in her ear.

Barnes studied Dorry as if she were the one who had lost her mind. “Denny? Denton, your brother-in-law? What does he have to do with us? Didn’t he die?”

In for a penny, in for a pound.
Dorry ignored the cautioning voice in her ear. “Exactly. And I believe you are responsible.” Her hands moved from the roses and gripped the rubber wheels of the chair.

Barnes fell quiet, head tilted as though working math sums in his head. His eyes stared blankly at Dorry. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” he said.

“This is getting tedious,” muttered Dallas, stepping into the room. Swinging her arm wide, she brought the heavy candlestick in her hand down on Barnes’s head, connecting with a sickening, awful, cracking noise.

“Dallas, what the hell!” Dorry tried to leap to her feet, forgetting about her broken leg, and ended up collapsing in a heap next to Barnes’s body on the floor. His eyes were open and fixed. Dorry’s heart clenched in sadness at the sight. In her ear, she heard Marya shouting, “It’s not him, it’s not him!” Working out ways to keep Dallas busy until the police could arrive, she used her arms to pull herself into a semi-sitting position.

“Now, Dallas,” she began, speaking slowly and carefully. “I don’t know what you’re up to but I think you’d better rethink it.” She pushed rose stems and petals aside, making sure her hands would be able to maneuver her body as needed and scanning the room, trying to determine where the social editor had moved to.

Dallas chuckled. The sound drew Dorry’s gaze to the bar. She was leaning against it, panting from the exertion and excitement of hitting Barnes. The bloodied candlestick still dangled from one gloved hand. “Rethink. Rethink? That’s all I’ve done for twenty-odd years is think. Think about why she never let me talk to him, that bitch. She let him think his precious Francie was his only child and here was my poor baby, left all alone with no daddy. Boys need a daddy, don’t they?”

She moved closer and shook the candlestick at Dorry. “She is one iron-clad bitch, that one is,” she said. “I’m sure Nicky regrets that choice.”

“Oh my God, Mama. What have you done?” Thomas entered the room from the back hallway. “What have you done?”

“Shoot her, boy. Shoot her quickly. A killing shot. Say the bitch killed him, then came at you. Hurry now. I’ll meet you at home.” Dallas threw the candlestick down and turned toward the back of the house.

A low laugh rumbled in Dorry’s chest, then emerged to rule the night. Thomas and Dallas turned to her, shame written on one face, confusion on the other.

“Go ahead, Thomas, tell her,” Dorry said.

Twin high-beam lights roved across the ceiling and around the room. Thomas danced nervously in place, a low moan issuing from his lips.

Dallas glanced at the approaching car lights, then slipped into the darkness of the hallway. “Tell me at home later,” she said as she fled. “Shoot her, shoot her now!”

Before he could act, the front door burst open and Inspector March, Marya and three deputies rushed inside. A shrieking cacophony broke out in the back of the house, growing louder and more vile as Sheriff Gennis marched Dallas back into the room. She was trying to wriggle free, all the while screaming at him, but he had her arms securely pinned behind her.

Marya raced to Dorry’s side and hunkered down next to her. “Oh God, are you okay? Okay? Are you? Really?” Marya’s words were a jumble of ceaseless worry.

Dorry grabbed Marya’s fluttering hands to still them. She pulled her close and looked into Marya’s eyes. “Yes, I am fine. Calm down now. Breathe.”

Marya threw her arms around Dorry’s neck and buried her face in it, missing the abrupt entrance of Isabel and the tall man in a khaki uniform who was with her.

Isabel paused in the doorway, taken aback by Marya and Dorry’s embrace and then by the sight of Barnes’s body on the floor. The officer crouched beside him, searching for a pulse, was shaking his head.

Isabel lifted a hand to her open mouth. “Oh, Dorry. What has happened?” she gasped.

At the sound of her voice, Marya pulled out of the embrace, but she stayed close, moving just enough to allow two of the deputies to lift Dorry back into her chair. Once she was settled in it, she stood behind the wheelchair, a possessive hand on the back of it, but itching to rest it on Dorry’s shoulder instead.

“It was Dallas,” Dorry replied dully. “Dallas. She was the one. Though how she…”

Isabel sighed. “Thomas, that’s how. Her son. And…Nicky’s.”

Marya looked from Isabel to Thomas. “What? Dallas had a son? And with…with Nicholas?”

“But they were too good to own up to it, weren’t they?” Dallas growled from across the room. “I thought maybe after Dorry let Francie die, Nicky would be glad to have his son but, oh no,” she sneered. “This bitch wouldn’t let me talk to him even then.”

Nicholas, who turned out to be Isabel’s tall companion, stepped behind his wife and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Dallas, you know Isabel was just looking out for me. After Francie died, I couldn’t think about anything, much less something as important as this.”

“But we could have been a family, Nicky,” Dallas cajoled. “I sent you so many letters…I tried to call. She just…”

Nicholas moved from Isabel to Thomas, who was standing in handcuffs, his head drooping sullenly. “I’m so sorry, Thomas. I…I never knew.”

“You never wanted to know,” Thomas replied quietly. “Now, it doesn’t even matter. I never cared anyway. I was happy with just Mama.”

“Look, break this up,” Inspector March said. “All of you need to come to the station for statements. We’ll get to the bottom of things there.”

“Wait,” Dorry said, her authoritative voice ringing throughout the room. “I have to know…Which of you killed Denny and why?”

Silence fell and persisted for a long beat.

“He was nosing around,” Thomas said finally. “Mama saw what he was printing out at work…my birth certificate… and she called me. He was bringing it to you, even though the father was listed as Nick Cross. I guess he put two and two together. We had to get it back from him so no one would know about me and Mama. So we hid him. And then he tried to get away, when I brought him food. I swear…it was an accident. He was an old man…so old and…”

“Shut up, Thomas,” Dallas hissed. “Hush right this instant!”

“I agree,” said Sheriff Gennis. “Thomas Cross, you are under arrest for the murder of Denton Hyde. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you…Do you understand these rights?”

Thomas nodded and he and his mother were escorted to the waiting cruiser. Isabel and Nicholas were led out by Inspector March. He paused to look back at Dorry and Marya. “You’ll be along then?”

Marya held Dorry’s hand. They’d been through it, no doubt about that. Into the crucible and out again. Together.

“I still can’t believe it,” she said. “Imagine sweet little Dallas raising a monster like that.”

She rose slowly, lifting Dorry’s cup and moving to the counter to get more coffee for them both. They were commiserating over breakfast in Dorry’s small, tidy kitchen, still reeling from the shock of the previous day.

Dorry leaned back in her wheelchair. “I had my doubts about her. She’s not so sweet.”

“Obviously,” Marya said, smiling. “I’m glad you’re okay, Dorry,” she added softly. “I was really worried for a while there.”

“Me too, love. Worried about both of us.” She laughed softly, ruefully.

“So let me get this straight. Dallas was with Nicholas before Isabel and got pregnant with Thomas.”

Dorry nodded. “Yes. But it was a one-time thing. They never really had a relationship.”

“Nicholas never knew about the baby?”

“Right.”

“Then Isabel got pregnant with Francie?”

“Correct.”

“So Thomas and Francie have the same father.”

Again a nod. “Yes.”

“So why didn’t Isabel tell Nicholas? He had a right to know.”

Dorry sighed, becoming very interested in her coffee. “Isabel told me that it was the way Dallas approached her. She acted entitled…and she was very bitter because Nicky had left her for Isabel. Even so, Isabel did try to help. Felt sorry for her being left alone with a toddler so she started sending her some money each month.”

“And she didn’t tell Nicholas? How did she hide that?”

Dorry shrugged. “He was traveling, assigned to various short stations, and Isabel had just realized she was pregnant right about that time. When Dallas approached her, I think she was afraid Nicky would leave her and go back to Dallas.”

“Would he have?”

“Good question. I doubt it. He was so wrapped up in Francie and Isabel but…he has a massive sense of duty. That would have played a powerful role.”

Marya tapped a forefinger on her chin. “Being a military man and all.”

“Yes.” Dorry sat back. “So she sent money, over and over again, each month. But…” She sighed and shifted in her seat. “Dallas had started going off the deep end. Isabel set up a post office box because she didn’t want Dallas to know where they lived after they left Germany and moved to Bethesda. Dallas inundated the box with photocopies. Most were of bills. Expenses. Even the most mundane…groceries even. She wanted Isabel and Nicholas to pay for them. Expected them to pay.”

“Wow,” she said quietly.

“I know,” she agreed. “These bills would be interspersed with vitriolic letters of hatred and crazy demands. Isabel said she ignored most of them and just sent her regular monthly cash. This went on for years.”

“I’d say so,” she interjected, “like twenty-five.”

Dorry nodded and drained her cup. “Yes. Oddly enough.”

Silence grew between them. Marya was mulling over the situation. A sudden thought occurred. “And you knew all of this the whole time? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dorry eyed her quizzically. “Oh no, honey. I never knew any of it. Not until the day of the fund-raiser.”

“She kept the secret, even from you, for all those years?” She was amazed.

“Yes.” Dorry’s voice softened. “Even from me.”

“I’m curious. Why didn’t Dallas go through the military?”

“Well, Isabel said she did,” Dorry replied as she studied Marya’s lips. “But he’s an officer and, because of the crazy way she was acting, I believe they just assumed she was some crackpot trying to ruin him and get him in trouble with his wife.”

“Not surprising,” she added sullenly. “The service is pretty much a good old boys network. So what did Isabel say, when she told you about all this?”

“That she was going to tell Nicky and be done with it. That’s why they were here. Are here. So Nicky could meet Thomas.”

“Thomas. He killed Denton, right?”

“Right.”

“And hung the dead birds in the cottage?”

“Yes and wrecked my office too. Seems Thomas paid Rob to leave the back door unlocked.”

Marya eyed Dorry with one eyebrow raised.

“I know,” Dorry said with a scowl. “I’m sorry.”

Marya smiled to show there were no hard feelings. “I bet Dallas erased Denton’s computer files because he had some kind of proof in there about Thomas’s birth.”

“I bet,” Dorry agreed.

“But what about your bracelet? How did it get in my bed? And why?” She paused, one finger to her chin. “Oh my God, Thomas planted it in my room while I was busy with Inspector March. To implicate both of us. He must have gotten it from Dallas.”

“Or from my house. I wonder why he didn’t he bring it to the Inspector’s attention,” Dorry added.

Marya shrugged. “Maybe he just wanted to spook me, make me believe you were guilty.”

“Did it work?” Dorry was watching her closely.

“Almost,” Marya admitted. “And all this time we assumed it was Barnes.”

“Why would we suspect Thomas?” Dorry asked. “Freddy seemed a much more likely suspect. Look at the weird way he was acting.”

Marya looked down at her hands. “Despite what he did to me, I feel badly about what happened to him. What Dallas did. I also hate that she caused that whole Francie thing.”

Dorry looked out the window at the forested, sloping hill behind her house. “I do too, Marya, I do too.”

***

Later that morning there was a knock at the door. It was Isabel.

“Hello, Marya,” she said, extending her hand. “I don’t think we’ve met formally. I’m Isabel Rose.”

Marya took the hand, finding it soft and delicate in texture. “Hello, Isabel. It’s good to finally meet you.”

Marya ushered her in and took her to the screened back porch where Dorry rested, her injured leg propped on pillows. Dorry looked up in surprise. When she saw Isabel, her eyes flew to Marya as if in apology.

“I’ll make some iced tea,” Marya said as she gestured for Isabel to have a seat on the sofa next to Dorry.

In the kitchen, Marya put the kettle on, then leaned her head back against the refrigerator and stared at the ceiling. Would she lose Dorry now?

Scenarios populated her imagination. Had Nicholas left Isabel because she didn’t tell him about Thomas? Was Isabel free and, if so, could she and Dorry take up a life together after all these years? Or would Isabel’s visit here devastate Dorry? Leave her unfulfilled and yearning?