Romeow and Juliet (9 page)

After we finished at the Bait and Stitch for the day, Max and I decided to head over to the marina to see if Danny was around. When I arrived at the boat, Danny and Tara were sitting on the deck of his boat enjoying a beer with Cody. I almost turned around and left, but everyone had seen me and I didn’t want to seem pathetic. Danny handed me a bottle as I sat down across from the group.

“It’s nice to see you, Cait.” I tried not to look at Cody, who looked even better than I remembered him. I’d managed a brief glance at him when he’d come by with Danny to fix the screen, but I’d been so terrified about being caught in just a towel that I hadn’t taken the time to really appreciate the way he’d filled out.

“I heard you’re on the island for the whole summer,” I said.

“I’m about to finish my tour with the Navy and am trying to decide whether to re-up or move on to something else. I had some leave coming, so I decided to come back to the island to think things through.”

“I’m surprised you’d come here,” I said snottily. “Now that your parents have moved, I can’t see that there’s a lot for you on Madrona.”

“I have friends.”

“Good friends.” Danny shot me a look. “Cody was just telling us about his time with the Seals. It’s really fascinating.”

“I’m sure it is. I heard from Siobhan,” I changed the subject in an abrupt manner that I was certain didn’t present me in the best light. I thought both Danny and Tara understood how much Cody had hurt me, but here they were, chatting with him like he was the best thing since sliced bread.

“And?” Danny asked. I knew he was as anxious about Maggie’s health as I was.

“According to the lab results, Maggie has a significant amount of arsenic in her system. Not enough to kill her; just enough to make her sick.”

“Arsenic?” Danny frowned. “How on earth did she get arsenic poisoning?”

“Siobhan said that someone has to be slipping it to her. Probably in her food.”

“That sounds like it could be serious,” Cody added.

“Yes, I imagine it is,” I replied.

“So the person would have to have access to her food. Other than you, who could that possibly be?” Tara wondered.

“I’m not really sure,” I admitted. “Maggie doesn’t eat out often, so chances are that the food in the house is somehow being contaminated.”

“You’ve been cooking for Maggie and eating at her house most nights since she’s been sick,” Tara pointed out, “yet you seem to feel just fine.”

“That’s true,” I agreed. “If the food in Maggie’s kitchen was contaminated I should be sick as well. Whatever it is that’s making her sick, it must be something only she eats or drinks.”

“Maybe she’s coming into contact with the substance at the store,” Danny suggested. “One of the regulars could be slipping the poison into her food when she isn’t looking.”

I frowned. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know, but someone obviously is.”

Danny was right; someone was slipping the poison into her food and I knew it wasn’t me.

“Okay, let’s say it’s true. Other than the three of us, who does Maggie come into contact with on a regular basis?” I asked.

“Maggie spends more time with Marley than anyone else,” Tara began.

“Yeah, but there’s no way Marley would hurt Maggie.” Maggie and Marley had been best friends since they were young girls. Sure, they argued at times, but everyone knew they cared deeply about each other.

“The ladies from the quilting circle seem to spend an awful lot of time at the Bait and Stitch,” Danny began.

“Yeah,” I admitted reluctantly, “but I really can’t see any of them hurting her. What possible reason could they have for doing so?”

“What possible reason could
anyone
have for doing so?” Danny asked. “Maggie is opinionated and outspoken, but someone is
poisoning
her. It takes a real wacko to do something like that.”

“Or someone with a really good motive,” Tara inserted.

“Whoever is doing it must have at least a rudimentary knowledge of the poison and how it works,” Cody pointed out. “If not, she’d most likely be dead by now.”

Cody had a point. Someone had made sure that Maggie would become sick, but not too sick. I paused to think about the situation. The nearly full moon was reflecting off the water, which most times brought a sense of peace and contentment to my troubled thoughts. But not tonight. Tonight I was filled with fear for Maggie. Someone seemed to want her out of the way, though not necessarily dead.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that whoever killed Keith is also responsible for poisoning Maggie,” I stated.

“So we’re looking for someone who has access to Maggie’s food and also has access to the old cannery,” Danny summarized.

Not a single person came to mind. Camden Bradford had access to the cannery, but he certainly didn’t have access to Maggie’s food. Other than myself, Marley had the most access to Maggie’s food, but there was no way either of us did it. Something wasn’t adding up. I looked across the marina to see Tansy walking toward us with Romeo trotting along behind. Tansy lived nearby, but what in the heck was Romeo doing all the way over here? When I’d left home that morning he’d been safely locked in the cabin.

“It looks like Tansy found my vagabond cat,” I announced. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

I got up from my seat and hopped up onto the dock. It was a short walk down the wooden walkway to where Tansy was waiting.

“Where ever did you find Romeo?” I asked after giving the woman a quick hug.

“He came for me.”

“He came for you?”

“He knew you needed a nudge.”

“A nudge?” I asked.

“He wanted me to warn you about the tea.”

“The tea?” I remembered Romeo knocking Maggie’s cup of tea off the counter the previous morning. Maggie was the only one who ever drank the bitter brew.

“I need to call Finn.” I hugged Tansy. “Thank you so much. It makes perfect sense.”

“Don’t thank me; thank Romeo.”

Tansy bent down and picked up the cat. She gave him a scratch under his chin before handing him to me.

“I should go,” she informed me. She turned to walk away, then paused and turned back. “Just remember that things often are exactly what they seem.”

With that, she faded into the darkness.

I’d never been able to figure out how she managed that particular trick. I cuddled Romeo to my chest and headed back to the boat. My new plan for the evening was to call Finn and turn over the tea for testing, after which I’d head home and lie awake all night trying to figure out what Tansy’s last comment meant.

The next morning I decided to pay a visit to Kim Darby. She’d been Keith Weaver’s receptionist for a number of years, and if anyone knew what was going on with the man prior to his murder, it would be her. Although Keith ran a one-man office, which would now be forced to close, Kim had kept the doors open temporarily to aid in the transfer of his clients to fellow Realtor Porter Wilson. As I hoped, she was sitting at her desk in the front office when I arrived at Weaver Real Estate.

Although Keith ran a small business, he was very successful in his endeavors, and his office was furnished to demonstrate that fact. While Porter Wilson’s office tended toward the tawdry, Keith provided clients with cherrywood tables, comfortable chairs, and expensive artwork to gaze upon while they filled out the mountains of paperwork demanded by each transaction. I greeted Kim and sat down in one of the soft leather chairs.

“How are you holding up?” I asked the obviously overworked woman.

“It’s been a struggle,” Kim admitted. “Not only am I trying to deal with the loss of a good friend but I’ve been swamped trying to transfer all of Keith’s clients over to Porter. Most of them aren’t happy with the change, but there really aren’t a lot of options on the island.”

Kim had a point. Other than Porter Wilson, the only other Realtor on the island was a man named Davenport who dealt exclusively with high-end clients.

“I know how busy you must be and I don’t want to take up a lot of your time, but I was wondering about a comment Tara made just before we found Keith’s body. She said you’d shared with her the fact that Keith was planning not only to support Bill Powell’s development but that he was going to push it through the council. It was my understanding he was very much against the project.”

“He was, at first,” Kim confirmed. “In fact, he put a lot of time into gathering facts to use to support his arguments against the project. Then several weeks ago he told me he’d changed his mind and had decided to support it. I was as surprised as anyone. The thing is,” Kim hesitated, “I overheard a phone conversation on the day before his body was found. He mentioned that he’d made a deal with the devil and wasn’t sure how he was going to get out of it.”

I frowned. “A deal with the devil? Do you have any idea what he was talking about?”

“Not really. I’d talk to Bill Powell, though. He seems to have gained the most by Keith’s death; other than Porter Wilson, of course, who now has a virtual monopoly on the island as far as real estate is concerned.”

I knew that not only was Porter Wilson the only other Realtor on the island who took walk-in clients but he was also running for island council and openly supported Bill’s project. It seemed the two men were isolated at the top of the suspect list.

“Can you think of anyone else who might have a motive for wanting Keith dead?” I asked.

“No, not a single person. Everyone loved Keith.”

“I heard through the grapevine that Keith was having an affair and planned to leave his wife.”

“What?” Kim seemed shocked by the idea. “I know Keith’s wife is a total witch, and he had made hints that he might have no choice but to end things, but Keith would never cheat. I think your source has been misinformed.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks for your time.”

I had promised Mr. Parsons I would return on Friday, and I really wanted to make sure things with Rambler were still going okay, so I stopped by the grocery store to restock his pantry, then stopped by my cabin to pick up Max. By the time we arrived at Mr. Parsons’s estate it was almost noon. I’d told Marley I’d help out at the Bait and Stitch that afternoon, so it was going to have to be a short visit.

When I walked into the house after being buzzed in by Mr. Parsons I found the man sitting in the study with Banjo and Summer, a hippie couple in their late sixties who lived in a small shack down the beach. The group were watching what appeared to be a rerun of an old soap opera. Max jogged over to join Rambler, who was happily watching from his spot on the sofa.

“Cait, how are you, dear?” Banjo got up, gave me a hug, and kissed me square on the lips.

“I’m fine. It’s been a few weeks. How’s the shop doing?”

Banjo and Summer owned an eclectic shop in Pelican Bay that sold a variety of random items. It was located next to Herbalities, the shop that was owned by Bella and Tansy. They had an excellent location, right on the harbor; the problem was they only seemed to be open when the mood struck them. Here it was midday on a Friday and they were watching reruns with Mr. Parsons.

Still, their lifestyle seemed to suit them. They’d never married or had children, but they’d traveled widely and never seemed stressed about anything. There were times when I had to admire their ability to take things as they came and never fight the current.

“It’s doin’.” Banjo shrugged. “Summer has some new pottery to display and I’ve been working on my tie-dyed Tshirts. I’m experimenting with new color combinations.”

“Shh,” Summer admonished. “We’re almost to the part where they find out that Dirk’s third son is really not his son but his brother.”

I had to suppress a giggle. The premise sounded ridiculous, but Summer seemed totally into the show, as did the others.

“I picked up a few things for your pantry when I was at the store. I’ll put them away and then come back to visit with you for a while. Can you keep an eye on Max for me?”

“I’d be happy to, dear.” Mr. Parsons smiled. “If you hurry you can catch the end, where we find out that Dirk’s twin brother isn’t really dead, as everyone believes. It turns out he faked his own death and ran away with Dirk’s wife, who disappeared without a trace over a year ago. It’s going to throw the whole town into a tizzy.”

“I’ll hurry,” I promised.

I was pleasantly surprised to see that Mr. Parsons’s living space was tidier than it had been for quite a while. Maybe having Rambler to keep him company had given him a new lease on life. I put the groceries away and made a quick check to see if there were any dishes that needed tending to, but everything looked spotlessly clean. I smiled as I made my way back to the study. The trio were completely engrossed in the show and didn’t even look up when I walked up behind them. I couldn’t help but chuckle when all three television viewers gasped in surprise when Dirk’s twin walked into the room, dressed in nothing but a very small towel. I had to admit that the actor who played both Dirk and his twin was quite the babe. Suddenly, I realized why Summer was glued to the show, but I didn’t understand the fascination Banjo and Mr. Parsons seemed to share.

“I can’t believe Dirk didn’t deck the guy,” Mr. Parsons commented as Dirk’s brother revealed his whereabouts for the past year.

“I think the poor man is in shock,” Summer sympathized.

“He’s probably afraid the towel the guy’s wearing will fall off if he hits him,” Banjo contributed. “Besides, after the upset with his son, I bet the man isn’t sure what to believe.”

The group let out a sigh as the show ended and the credits began to roll across the screen.

“Is this a new show?” I asked when I decided it was safe to speak.

“No, it’s a soap from the sixties,” Summer answered. “Banjo and I don’t have a television, so we come over to watch reruns with Mr. Parsons.”

“It seems like you must have seen these episodes before,” I commented.

“Oh, dozens of times. This show is one of our favorites. It seems like everyone is having an affair with everyone else, and I do so love a juicy affair.”

“Speaking of affairs, have any of you heard anything about Keith Weaver having been involved in one prior to his death?”

“Oh, I’m certain of it,” Banjo answered.

“Really? Did he mention it to you?”

“No. He didn’t say anything,” Banjo told me, “but I could tell he had a thing on the side, with all the strutting around he’d been doing. If I had to guess, I’d say it ended just before he was murdered. He seemed to have lost the spring in his step.”

“Do you know who the affair was with?” I asked.

“He didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

“This is just like one of our stories.” Summer grinned. “I bet it was the wife who offed him. Or maybe the lover.”

“Can’t see killin’ a man over some messy love affair,” Banjo countered. “My money is on Bill Powell, or someone associated with his project.”

“It would seem that greed would trump jealousy as a motive,” Mr. Parsons agreed. “Although,” he added, “the best motive of all is revenge.”

“Revenge?” I asked. “Do you think someone had a grudge against Keith Weaver?”

Summer laughed. “It sounds like a lot of people had reason to hold a grudge against the man. His wife, if she found out about the affair; the lover, if he broke it off; the people who would have been affected by his decision to back the condo project, to name a few.”

“So you also heard he’d changed his mind about blocking the project?” I asked.

“Yeah, he told us himself that he’d decided to support it,” Summer confirmed.

“He knew Summer and I were concerned about the impact of the project on our own property values; the land they planned to build on borders ours,” Banjo added.

I really hadn’t considered that, but Banjo was correct. The new building would definitely impact the isolation the couple now enjoyed.

“When did he tell you this?” I asked.

“’Bout a week ago,” Banjo answered. “He came by for some of Summer’s special cookies”—I knew marijuana was the special ingredient in Summer’s cookies—“and he confessed to his change of heart. He seemed to feel bad about it. He knew how much we were counting on his support when it came time to vote on the project.”

“Kim made it sound like he might have been having second thoughts about that decision,” I commented.

“If he was, he didn’t mention it to us,” Summer verified.

I paused to consider the situation. Keith Weaver had initially been very vocal in his opposition to the project. And then, for some unknown reason that seemed to have to do with a deal with the devil, he changed his mind. It seemed as if he might have changed his mind yet again before he died. All the evidence at this point seemed to support the fact that one of these decision changes might have led to his death.

By the time I got home that day it was close to dark. It seemed like the afternoon had dragged on and on. Not that it isn’t usually fun to help out at the Bait and Stitch, but today my mind was filled with suspects, motives, and opportunity. Now that I knew that someone had intentionally been poisoning Maggie, I was more determined than ever to unmask the killer.

“Romeo,” I called after Max and I had settled the groceries I’d picked up into the kitchen. It was odd that he hadn’t come to the door when I’d walked in. “I brought salmon treats,” I said persuasively.

When that didn’t bring him running I realized the sly little feline had most likely slipped out of the cabin once again. At least Francine was still out of town. I gave Max his dinner, put on a jacket, and headed around the hedge to the next house. I understand the draw of new love, but Romeo really was going to create a difficult situation for both of us if he didn’t find a way to curb his lusty feelings for Juliet.

I was just about to turn inland from the beach and approach Francine’s back lawn when I literally ran into none other than Camden Bradford.

“Juliet?” I asked.

“How’d you know?”

“I’m missing Romeo as well. I figured the pair must have snuck away for a romantic interlude.”

“I don’t suppose Romeo is neutered?”

“’Fraid not. I plan to have it done, but he’s really only been with me for a few days. How about Juliet?”

“No. Francine was hoping to have her bred to another show cat.”

I had a bad feeling about this. A very bad feeling. Francine wasn’t going to be happy if Romeo and Juliet decided to consummate their obvious affection for each other. “We need to find them. And fast.”

“Any idea where to look?” Cam asked.

I looked around the surrounding area. They could be anywhere by this point.

Romeo had seemed fascinated by Mr. Parsons’s garden when we’d taken a walk down the beach earlier in the week. “Let’s head down the beach to see what we find. I’m sure they’ll come home on their own; what I’m afraid of is what Juliet’s state of chastity will be by then.”

I turned and began walking toward Mr. Parsons’s property and Cam fell in next to me. It really was a beautiful evening: warmer than it had been, and the tide was in, creating gentle waves that lapped onto the shore. The moon, which had been nearly full the previous evening, was just beginning its ascent from the east. While technically none of the beaches on Madrona Island were private, the isolation of the small peninsula where Maggie lived provided an element of solitude. Occasionally we got boaters who would pull up onto the sand during the peak of the summer, but for most of the year this particular stretch of sand was deserted.

“Have you lived on the island long?” Cam asked conversationally as we walked down the sand.

“All my life.”

“It really is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been, and I’ve been a lot of places.”