Arsenic in the Azaleas Page 2

  Immediately Mugs dropped the bone and raised his nose to sniff the air. When Doreen held out a chicken twist for him, he smelled it, then decided he preferred the bone at his feet.

  “No! Wait, Mugs. No.” She shoved the treat into his face a second time.

  He gave her an offended look but slowly took the treat, dropping the bone once more.

  Instantly she snatched it out of his reach. She turned it over and screamed, tossing the small fleshy thing to the wooden floor of the veranda. Mugs raced for it, but she shooed him away. Using a piece of old cardboard found on the side of the veranda, she scooped up the bone and placed it on the little outside table. Gasping, her heart pounding, she peered closer.

  The bone had skin on it—and a fingernail at the end. A nicely manicured man’s nail.

  Mugs had been chomping on a human finger.

  Chapter 3

  An hour later Doreen faced yet another first.

  Police. They were as foreign to her as the world they worked in. She’d never met anyone who worked for the police. And hadn’t ever needed their assistance. Was there a specific etiquette she should follow? Typical of her husband’s overall mind-set in ruling her world and her actions, Doreen shouldn’t be so surprised that she would even consider such an issue.

  She really couldn’t expect to undo all her bad habits formed in her fourteen-year marriage in only six months’ time. Yet, she was working on that.

  While waiting for the police to arrive, Doreen had transferred the finger from the small table on the rear veranda to the little matching table on the front porch. And she had made sure Mugs remained inside the house, separated from the finger, although she had lost track of Goliath.

  As the RCMP car pulled into her driveway behind her Honda, she headed outside and stood on her front porch, wondering at the strange turn her “new” life had taken. The driver got out, and she plastered a bright smile on her face and then immediately wiped it off. This was hardly a social occasion. She could shake their hands. That was businesslike, right?

  When the first officer arrived at her front porch steps, she was lost as to what expression was appropriate for the occasion. So she just blurted out, “I think there is a body on the property.”

  The older man remained silent, surprise lighting his taciturn face.

  She stared, fascinated, as his bushy eyebrows rose into his forehead. How did that work? They were like Groucho Marx’s in size, only longer. She gave an inward shudder. She wanted to run inside and grab scissors and clip them into shape. If she did that, he’d lock her up as being a lunatic. Half hysterical, she wondered if she could make a business of eyebrow trimming. There was obviously a need for her services in this town, but would they pay her or would she have to pay them to give her the opportunity?

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. What did you say?”

  She took a deep breath, clenched her fists against her belly, stiffened her spine and said, “Maybe you should come on the front porch, and I could show you instead.”

  He seemed to be waiting for his partner, who was bent over the cop car, talking on a handset pulled through the open window, standing just outside the car door. The first man was as old and grizzled as the second man was young and dynamite—a tall blond Adonis.

  Her breath escaped slowly as she tried to calculate his age.

  Early thirties she figured.

  Immediately her mind calculated their age difference. There were all kinds of rules to such a relationship. She wanted to race back inside and check. She had them written down somewhere. She should know them by heart. But after Sally Browning had had a relationship with somebody thirteen years her junior and had been ostracized from all the tea parties, Doreen wasn’t sure she had the appropriate rules to go by in this instance. After all, Doreen was only a couple years older than Adonis, right?

  Right?

  Regardless, she thought Sally should’ve been totally fine dating a younger guy. It wasn’t that she and her much-younger boyfriend were doing anything other than having an affair. Everyone knew that, when having an affair, age didn’t count. It was only when that affair turned to something long-term that age differences caused eyebrows to raise.

  Unless of course money was involved—then all rules were off. Because everyone knew that money made age go away.

  And made wives—future and former—come and go too.

  “Ma’am, what is it you wanted to show me?” the older officer asked.

  She dragged her gaze from the younger officer until he tossed the handset on the passenger seat and stood fully upright. Crap. He was as cute standing as he had been slumped over. Only taller than she expected. Much taller.

  Finally pulling her attention back to the officer in front of her, she pointed at the small table off to the side of her front porch where she’d carefully placed the offending bone. “It’s that.”

  He glanced at the table, back at her and asked, “What is?”

  She half turned and pointed at the table again. “I put it on the table.”

  The second officer joined them. She beamed at Adonis.

  Both policemen stared at her. “What about the table?” the older man asked.

  She exhaled heavily. “Not the table but what’s on the table.”

  Both men stared at the table from where they stood on the ground next to the porch steps. “Just a piece of old cardboard is on the table.” The second man’s voice was lighthearted and cheerful.

  Too cheerful. As if he were humoring her. Instantly his cuteness rating dropped several notches. She glared at the table and froze. No. No, it can’t be. “Oh, my God, it’s gone.”

  “What’s gone?”

  She spun around and stared at the younger officer. “I told the dispatcher that I think a body is here.”

  “And what… made you think… that?” the older officer asked in a slow and patient voice.

  She glared at him. “Because of the finger.”

  At the word finger, both men straightened to attention.

  She nodded with satisfaction. “I should think so. That dratted cat brought it inside. I swear it was him. Mugs would never have touched it first. But then Mugs took it away from him,” she admitted. “I brought it out here and put it on the front porch table, waiting for you guys to show up.” She glared at the table. “I bet it was Goliath’s doing. He never forgave Mugs for stealing it away from him.”

  “Mugs? Goliath?” the older officer repeated.

  She raised both hands, palms up. “Aren’t you listening? The cat brought it in.”

  The younger man smiled. “Is the cat Goliath by any chance?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?” She turned her back to the men, now so flustered that she didn’t know what to do. If she couldn’t produce the finger, no one would believe her. Therefore, no one would check out the backyard because she certainly wasn’t going to until she got an all clear from someone. Neither would she let that cat back into the house to bring home more body parts. Turning, she announced firmly, “We have to find the finger. The cat probably stole the darn thing back again.”

  “When did you last see him?”

  She stared at the young man she had thought was cute. His brand of cute was only on the outside. He had to have a fully functioning brain going on inside to rightly earn the term. “I saw him just a while ago, of course. He couldn’t have gone far.” She shook her head. “Never mind. The finger must be around here somewhere.” She searched the furniture on the front porch. “Check the floorboards. Maybe the cat dropped it. Or maybe he took it inside.” She opened the front door and then stopped. “No, it can’t be inside. It was here when I heard you drive up.” She shut the door and frowned, facing the officers again.

  “I haven’t seen the cat since we arrived, ma’am,” said the younger officer.

  The older man walked up and down the length of the porch, supposedly looking for a finger, but he didn’t appear to be putting too much effort into it.

  She sighed. Loudly. Sh
e so didn’t need this.

  “But Nan did have a big Maine coon cat. She used to take it with her everywhere,” the younger man added. “It was a character. Then Nan is too.”

  “She’s my grandmother. So is she yours too?” She studied the man closer. “Are we related?”

  The younger officer laughed. “No, the community knows her as Nan also.”

  “Great. That’ll make for a confusing few weeks.” But it pleased her that Nan was so well-known and apparently well-loved.

  Not to mention that she and Adonis were not related.

  “She had a cat and a parrot,” the older man murmured, his gaze still on the flooring of the porch.

  “Well, if a parrot is here, I haven’t met it yet,” Doreen said. “I just arrived. I’m still finding my way through the house. It’s a maze of clutter.” She frowned. “But I believe Nan did tell me a bird was here. I assumed it was outside.”

  “Thaddeus tends to wander where he wants. He flies but not terribly well. When you see him, you’ll never forget him.” The officers looked at each other and grinned.

  From the far side of the front porch, she heard a wild squawk. She pivoted and saw a beautiful blue-gray bird standing on the railing, facing her. He was at least a foot tall with long red tail feathers. “Oh, my goodness! Is that him?”

  The cops laughed. The younger man said, “Yes, that’s Thaddeus.”

  “Thaddeus is here,” the bird said with great stage presence, strutting along the top of the railing. “Thaddeus is here.”

  “Oh, great. He talks,” Doreen muttered, staring at the bird. That was the last thing she needed when Goliath had been dragging human body parts inside the house.

  As if understanding her thoughts, the huge orange feline erupted from under the front porch. It raced up a few of the porch steps, then stopped and looked at the humans disdainfully. He took two more steps, dropped his butt, shot his hind leg into the air and proceeded to lick his behind.

  In front of one and all.

  The only thing that Doreen could think of was how horrified her husband would be with this scene right now. She had to chuckle at that image.

  On cue, Thaddeus squawked before speaking. “Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.”

  Doreen groaned with a shake of her head. “That’ll get old very quickly.”

  “He doesn’t say very much, but he is a character.” The younger officer walked over and brushed the feathers along Thaddeus’s cheek and neck. “He’s very personable. Most of the townsfolk know him. Nan, of course, took him with her everywhere too.”

  “Wonderful,” Doreen said half under her breath. “I sure hope no more pets are around here. Mugs is having enough trouble adapting to the cat. I can’t imagine him with a parrot, particularly one that talks.”

  “Mugs?” asked the older man. “Who’s that?”

  “My dog.”

  He gave a half snort. “Fun times ahead.”

  She shrugged. “Not so fun if I can’t find the dratted finger again. You two will never believe me without proof.” She glanced at the floorboards and found a small hole. She dove to the porch floor and studied the shadows below. “Something’s down there. It’s just out of reach, and even two of my fingers can’t fit at the same time inside this hole. Plus it’s hard to see for sure.” She thought it was the finger. She darn well hoped it was. She’d already made a fool of herself. She sure didn’t want them to think she was a liar too. “I accidentally bumped the table when I came outside. It must have rolled off then.”

  “Let me see.” The older officer got down on his hands and knees. “Well, something’s there all right.” He twisted his head sideways. “I can’t rightly say it’s a bone though.”

  “I’ve got a pair of tweezers in my purse. Let me go grab them.” She dashed inside the house, leaving the door open for just a moment. She found the tweezers and returned to the front porch to find that Mugs was now outside, his tail wagging, as he slobbered his joy all over the officers.

  “Darn it… I walked inside for two seconds. What kind of watchdog are you anyway, Mugs?”

  “So he only barks when he feels like it?” the older officer joked.

  “So far, just when the darn cat ran through the house with the finger. Probably jealous because I think he wanted a fresh bone too.”

  The two men looked at one another in fascination.

  “Sorry.” She winced. “I guess you both think I’m a little odd.”

  The two officers shook their heads very slowly. “No, ma’am. We know Nan well. You are very similar.” The older man grinned and stuck out his hand. “The name’s Arnold, Constable Arnold Depruis. Welcome to town.”

  She flushed and shook his hand, still flustered. She brushed her hair back and smiled at the younger man. “And you are?”

  “Constable Chester Pearson. But you can call us Arnold and Chester. Nice to meet you.”

  Tossing a bright smile his way, she dropped back to her knees on the floorboards, positioned over the hole again. The finger had fallen into the hole and rested on a crossbeam underneath. If it had dropped any farther, she’d likely have lost it forever.

  She focused and very carefully pulled the offending item out between the boards. “Well, Arnold and Chester, do you think I’m telling the truth now?” She held it up triumphantly and said, “See? I wasn’t lying.”

  Both men leaned in to take a closer look and immediately turned more businesslike. Arnold shifted his hat back and said, “Well, look at that. It’s a finger all right.”

  Mugs barked at her feet and tried to jump for her hand, and somewhere close by a cat howled. Likely Goliath was pissed that he had lost his treat.

  Doreen smirked as she laid the nasty thing back onto the cardboard triumphantly. “See? The rest of him has to be around here somewhere too.”

  But Thaddeus put the icing on the cake. He squawked loud and long, then cried out, “Body in the garden. Body in the garden.”

  Chapter 4

  While the police searched the property, Doreen searched the kitchen in vain for a teakettle. The police had been here for what seemed like hours, and she needed the comfort of a hot cup of tea. After hunting through the cupboards, she had only found a well-stocked pantry, confirming Nan had lived off canned goods. There were canned beans, canned soup and canned fish. Doreen saw what appeared to be canned potatoes. She stared at it, shuddered and closed the cupboard quickly. Did Nan have any teeth left? Maybe that was the problem.

  Doreen knew Nan was a big tea drinker, but Doreen couldn’t find any kettle to plug into an outlet. When she opened another cupboard, she found an old-fashioned stovetop kettle. The trouble was, Doreen and stoves didn’t get along. Then, of course, she hadn’t had much of a relationship with one either. She never had to cook during her entire marriage, and she’d never cooked growing up either. Now that she was single and on her own, she had yet to fathom the depths of how that whole producing-wonderful-food thing worked.

  But, if there was ever a time to force herself to try, it was now. Because, above all else, she desperately wanted a cup of tea. That was, if a double-shot no-fat latte or a latte with sprinkled cinnamon on top wasn’t available. And, considering her current lack of finances, those fancy coffees would likely never be available to her again.

  She pulled out the funky-looking kettle, clicked the button at the top to open the lid and filled it with water from the sink. She walked over to the ancient stove and put the kettle atop one of the rings. She studied the stove for a long moment, but, for the life of her, she didn’t know which knob would turn on the right-hand burner in the front. Age had taken its toll on the stove, wearing off all helpful markings—the same as the rest of the house had aged.

  She would just have to experiment. She turned on both knobs on the right side where she’d put the kettle. Surely this was intuitive. Unfortunately the smell of gas immediately hit her nose. She shut off both knobs and turned on the other two on the far left side. When she smelled gas again, she quickl
y turned off those.

  Back to one of the cupboards again, she pulled out a couple teacups to peer farther inside, then grinned. She reached far back into the cupboard and pulled out a bright and shiny electric kettle. Nan might not have liked it or used it, but Doreen was thrilled. She filled it with water and plugged it in. “Now we’re in business.”

  For Nan and Doreen, teatime was a beloved hobby. Yet no teapots were visible. At least none that she’d found. But there were teacups. She took out a large one, then found a drawerful of different tea bags and tins full of loose tea leaves.

  Studying the varieties, she was astonished at their names, like chamomile tea and dandelion leaf tea. Why would anybody want to put hot water on top of dandelion leaves? Dandelions were considered weeds, the bane of her husband’s gardeners. She just didn’t get it. But she spied a box of black tea bags, and she figured that was her best option. She dropped one into the teacup and waited for the water to boil.

  Leaning against the sink, her back to the window, she deliberately didn’t want to look out the window because police officers crawled all over the property. That lovely bone came from somewhere.

  As she’d found out on her drive into town earlier this morning, Kelowna was smallish, and the Mission area was tiny. Thus the Kelowna RCMP detachment had only ten full-time staff, as Chester had shared. She swore they were all here in her backyard. Surely they’d be done soon. The property wasn’t that large. But she was afraid that, if she went outside, with her luck, she’d be the one to find the body.

  Raising even more suspicions from Arnold and Chester.

  Beside her, the teakettle whistled. She frowned as the little silver lid snapped up and down. She took that to mean the water was boiling. She poured hot water into the teacup. She sniffed the air experimentally above it, and it did smell like tea, regular old-fashioned black tea. Embolden with that simple success, she opened the back door and stepped onto the veranda.

  None of the officers were close to her now. She figured it was safe to sit down and watch their shenanigans. Who knew she had such a gruesome curiosity? Plus her feet ached, and she needed to get off them. She was used to wearing high heels all day long but couldn’t for some reason here in Nan’s house. Maybe it was the uneven floor. She didn’t know.