Arsenic in the Azaleas Page 8

  She’d been married for fourteen years. He had built up his business during that time, with her help as his hostess for all his social events. She had no intention of ripping off her husband, but she’d wanted some compensation for all those years she had invested her time and effort into his businesses. But, according to her lawyer, Doreen wasn’t entitled to anything of his, including the house, his cars and their bank accounts. The only reason she had the Honda was that it had been her personal car before they married, and she had convinced her husband to keep it, if only for having on standby so the maid could run to the grocery store.

  So Doreen was lying here, not even able to afford a new bed, and he had the contents of the whole house to himself. Well, he and his new arm candy, Doreen’s divorce lawyer.

  Doreen did have one thing from her marriage. Her survivor’s spirit.

  Of course, she’d been the fool for signing the divorce agreement—only she hadn’t realized it until afterward, when it was too late. Or was it? She’d revisit that thought later.

  One crisis at a time, please.

  She threw back the covers, hopped out of bed and walked over to the bathroom. Once again she stopped in the doorway and smiled. Not only did she have her spirit, she had this bathroom. And this was one room in the house that mattered. She danced inside and turned on the shower, delighted to feel lovely hot water almost instantly with copious pressure.

  After a vigorous scrub and several shampoos of her hair, she almost felt clean again. Between the dead body and rummaging through the weeds, she was dang sure she’d brought in more than her fair share of the dirt. She’d like to blame the animals. But she’d been in and out constantly herself.

  Back in her room she opened her biggest suitcase, looking for a pair of pants she could wear around the house. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with all her expensive clothes. Her designer shoes. The thought of ever wearing them here was highly unlikely. Could she sell them? She knew it was probably a foolish idea. But she’d do almost anything to get a new bed.

  Once again the animals waited for her as she made her way, now dressed, to the kitchen for her next attempt at making a pot of coffee. While it dripped, she fed the animals. At least their food would last them for a while. Then she turned her attention to herself, because, after all, dinner had been almost nothing, and this morning’s offerings weren’t looking much better.

  With a fresh cup of coffee, she opened the fridge, another archaic-looking thing she couldn’t believe still worked. She’d seen them in old movies but never imagined they’d be in household use today. It was empty except for a box of baking soda on the shelf. She didn’t understand why that was there. The half-freezer above was also empty.

  So Nan had used up or given away or tossed all the perishable food before she left, and that was probably a darn good thing. But it also meant Doreen couldn’t put off grocery shopping for much longer. She gathered all that was left of her traveling food on the table—some dried fruit and nuts. Obviously that was her breakfast.

  As soon as she ate, she grabbed her purse, poured the last of the coffee in her travel mug and headed for her car.

  As she opened the front door, she gasped to see an older woman, her hand in the air, ready to knock.

  The two women stared at each other in surprise before Doreen pulled herself together. “Hi. How can I help you?”

  The older woman smiled. “I’m Ella, your neighbor.” She turned to point at the house on the far right of the cul-de-sac. “I just wanted to say hello and to welcome you to the neighborhood. It’s been a bit rough for you, so I wanted to let you know we’re not all nosy busybodies.”

  How lovely. Doreen beamed at the first true welcome she’d had. “Thank you so much. You’re right. Yesterday was a bit rough, but today is a new day.”

  Ella laughed. “I see you’re heading out.” She motioned at the travel mug in Doreen’s hands while backing down the front porch steps. “So feel free to stop by and say hi sometime. We’ll have a cup of tea together.”

  She skipped down the last few steps, waved and strode home, leaving Doreen to stare after her neighbor, wondering if she should have changed her plans and visited with the woman. Still, the moment had passed. Shrugging, Doreen got into the car. Nan had said a grocery store was just down the road. If nothing else, Doreen could live on bread and peanut butter for a while. The peanut butter was a memory from her childhood. She’d never been allowed to have it while married. Like so many other things.

  She hated to leave all the animals inside the house. Plus, she expected the cops back again, but she had to leave before they blocked her in once more.

  She drove down Lakeshore Road, ignoring the many people out walking their animals and staring at her. Several blocks later she came to a grocery store. She pulled into a parking spot, got out, grabbed a cart and went in. Now she had to enter that food nightmare. If she could cook, it would be a different story, but chances were she’d burn everything. Although the coffee this morning had tasted like coffee, which was a huge improvement.

  She still didn’t understand the mystery of grocery stores. She understood fresh food was supposed to be on the outside perimeter, and the food she was to avoid was on the inside of the store. Why would they sell food that you’re supposed to avoid? And why put it in the middle of the store, exactly where everyone was going? Her husband had been a fresh-food freak, and that was great as she’d obviously remembered some of his rantings. She wandered down the store aisles, figuring out just what she could buy in this small town with an even smaller budget.

  She quickly collected fresh greens, spinach and kale. Maybe she could get her smoothies back into her routine again. She didn’t know if Nan had a blender. Checking the secondhand store for one was a place to start. Maybe she could find a teapot too. She kept on going through the fresh veggies, picked up some fruit and wandered into the meat section. This was where that whole cooking mystery began. Nothing made sense to her. But she needed to eat protein too.

  By the time she finished her shopping, she was confused, tired and frustrated. But she pushed her small cart to the cashier. The clerk, Cherry, according to her name tag, gave her a wide-eyed look, then pinched her mouth shut and rang up the groceries. Doreen assumed Cherry must have heard about the body.

  Figures. Doreen pushed her prepaid card into the card reader and punched in her security code so she could access her remaining funds, heaving a breath of relief when the transaction was approved. She had saved most of her “allowance,” then had bought a prepaid card before she made the five-hour drive here. She didn’t want to carry any cash on her while traveling alone, and she felt the prepaid card was safer, plus it was insured for theft.

  But she did need to check its balance. She was afraid to look and confirm how little was left, but, at the same time, she needed to know the exact figure. She sighed, deciding to check the balance once she got home.

  Just as silently, she grabbed her bags, put them in the cart. She thanked the clerk with a polite smile before wheeling the cart to her car. It was such a relief to be back out in the fresh air and sunshine again and to not have to worry about anybody saying anything. As she thought about it though, nobody spoke to her at all—as if a town conspiracy of silence was the best way forward.

  When she drove into her driveway and parked, two unmarked vehicles were already parked at the curb. She figured they were cops, working in the back garden. She opened her trunk, pulled out her bags and walked up to the front of the house. Instantly Mugs barked.

  “Mugs, it’s okay. It’s just me.”

  Mugs barked again, not having any of it. Since strangers were in the street and the backyard, she couldn’t blame him. She unlocked the front door, let the dog race outside to confirm nothing was there and carried the bags to the kitchen. Setting everything on the table, she walked back to close the front door. She shrugged out of her sweater, laid it over the back of the couch, dropped her purse on the kitchen table beside the groceries a
nd opened the rear kitchen door so she could step out and see what was going on. Mugs barreled ahead of her.

  Sure enough, four men were in the garden where she had found the arsenic last night. She recognized Mack, who raised a hand in greeting. Beside him, she acknowledged Chester and Arnold with a wave and returned to the house. She stood just inside the door and wondered aloud, “Should I put on coffee? Or tea? I’d offer cookies if I was at home.” She frowned, walking over and staring out the kitchen window.

  She’d been forced to learn a lot of etiquette rules when she’d been married, as they were different from the ones for unmarried women, according to both her uppity mother and her controlling husband. It had taken forever before any of it came naturally to Doreen, but eventually it had. With her separation, that had been one of the first things she’d stopped worrying about.

  Until moving here for some reason.

  She decided it was probably prudent to be ready with coffee if Mack did come in. At least she’d have a cup for him. So she put on a second pot. It was a small pot after all, and she’d drink it all herself if she had to. She quickly set the coffee to dripping, put her perishable foods in the fridge and then figured out where to put a few canned goods of her choosing when the cupboards were already full.

  A knock came at the back door. Mack filled the open doorway.

  She smiled brightly at him. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning. You weren’t here when we arrived, so we went straight into the backyard.”

  She nodded. “I needed to get a few groceries.” Her tone was formal. Even though she was trying to be friendly, it was still odd to see somebody like him doing what he was doing.

  He nodded formally as well. “How was your night?”

  “Outside of the fact that you were here late last night, and the bed I slept in must be from the early 1900s, and every time I rolled over, the bed squeaked and bounced and pinched my spine…” She gave him a wan smile. “I’ll probably be heading for a nap at noon because it was so bad.”

  “Sorry about that.” He winced. “It’s really important to have a good bed.”

  “Well, I won’t be getting one anytime soon, since I have no money for anything like that.”

  He shrugged. “At least you have a home.”

  She gave him a flat stare. “There is that.”

  “You know…” Mack began.

  Her eyebrows raised, she waited for him to continue.

  “I don’t mean to meddle,” he said.

  “Go on. I can at least listen to what you have to say, then I’ll decide. Right?”

  “You could have an estate sale.”

  “But, but… isn’t that when someone has died?”

  “Call it a garage-and-house sale if it makes you feel better. Get rid of what Nan doesn’t want and buy a new bed.”

  “Hmm.” She wasn’t sure what that type of sale entailed but it was an idea. She just wasn’t sure it was a good one. And would it actually bring in enough money to buy a bed?

  “You could make it one day, or a weekend or even a one-week-long neighborhood event, where you could get the neighbors to join in. It would give the community a new way to view you after all this murder business.”

  Her eyebrows shot up at that. “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I will consider it, but it’s going to take time to sort through this stuff. I have to ask Nan about most pieces.”

  “There’s no rush though, is there?” He smiled at her. “Except you could use a new bed sooner than later.”

  With a nod of her head, she said, “Thank you, Mack.”

  Thaddeus walked in and straight up to Mack. “Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.”

  She smiled down at the bird. “Good morning, Thaddeus.”

  He tilted his head sideways and rolled one eye up at her. He hopped onto the kitchen counter and walked back and forth. “Coffee. Coffee. Thaddeus smells coffee. Thaddeus smells coffee.”

  “I’ve never heard that word out of him before,” she exclaimed. She brushed a finger down the bird’s neck. “I really have no idea what I’m doing with him.”

  “Looks like you’re doing just fine.”

  “Just goes to show you that appearances can be deceiving.” She straightened and gave Mack a pleasant smile. “Did you need something?”

  He nodded. “That’s why I came in before we left.”

  “Left?” She glanced out at the garden and saw it was, indeed, empty. “Oh, good.”

  “You don’t have to sound quite so happy.”

  “Given what I’ve been through these last twenty-four hours, I so do. I want this over with.” She motioned at the coffee. “Would you like a cup? It’s fresh.”

  His face lit up. “I’d love a cup, thank you.” He pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down at the table. “Besides I have some questions for you.”

  Crap. She knew she shouldn’t have been so friendly. “Questions about what?” she asked as she poured two cups full of coffee.

  “Questions about the murdered man.”

  Chapter 13

  Doreen stared at Mack in shock. She sat down hard at the table and said, “I don’t know who the murdered man is.”

  “His name is James Farley. He was an insurance salesman.”

  “Well, Mack, I’m not at all surprised an insurance salesman was murdered,” she murmured. “According to my almost ex, they are all scammers.”

  “Well, you’re almost not married anymore,” he said shortly. “Make your own decisions.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “Somebody murdered him. Why do you think I would know anything about him?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He proceeded to ask her questions, like; did she recognize the man’s name? Did she know the family? Had she any insurance? Could she have bought some from this Farley person? What about Nan? Did she have any insurance?

  The answers were easy, as she didn’t know anything about the dead man or insurance. Neither did she know anything about Nan’s knowledge of the dead man’s family or if Nan had purchased insurance from him. “You’ll have to ask Nan.” When he was done, she crossed her arms and slumped in the chair. “You’ve told me who he is. I still don’t know him.”

  “Have you seen any correspondence from Nan around the house with that man’s name on it?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve been a little busy over the last twenty hours or so since I arrived here, so you need to direct those questions to Nan.”

  He nodded and stood. “That’s where I’m heading next.”

  He walked to the front door, she trailed behind. “Don’t upset Nan when you go there,” she said. “The last thing I want is for her to have a heart attack over this.”

  “I won’t do anything to upset her if I don’t have to. However, we do have to find out who killed this man.”

  And then he was gone.

  There was no friendly belly rub for Mugs or a stroke behind the ears for Goliath. Not even an acknowledgment of Thaddeus. Businesslike and simple. A few questions and he was gone. But it left a chill.

  She locked the front door behind him. She knew how this looked. Yet, that didn’t change the fact that neither she nor Nan had killed this man. Perhaps somebody had known the house was empty and thought nobody would notice, so they had deliberately placed the body here to implicate Nan or Doreen. Or as a temporary measure until they could move it again but… ewww. Not to mention that decking over the body looked pretty permanent.

  Either way it sucked. Nan was a wonderful person, and she didn’t need this. And that meant somebody had to find the right answers. Not just the answers that would fit and make a case for the police. Because, if that case closed around Nan, then the conclusion was wrong. Somebody would have to set them straight. That somebody would have to be Doreen.

  Nan had done a lot for Doreen over these last few rough months, and that was without taking into account all the times she’d been there for Doreen over the years. The least she could do was return the favor. S
he’d find out who killed that man. She rolled up her imaginary sleeves and stormed into the kitchen.

  She snagged a cup of coffee and stepped onto the back veranda, considering what to do to clear Nan’s name. Her gaze studied the proximity of her house and yard to the neighbors’ yards, wondering if she should talk to the neighbors. Maybe they had seen something between the time Nan moved to Rosemoor and when Doreen arrived yesterday.

  But the state of the backyard distracted the gardener in her. Nan’s back garden was fully fenced although those fences were badly in need of TLC, like the gardens themselves. Doreen had lots of TLC to give, but she wasn’t so sure about the fence repairs. Still, if a hammer and nail would do the job, she could work with that. Besides the physical work would help rid her of some of the building stress.

  But solving the dead man’s mystery came before gardening. Her laptop was still packed away upstairs. She went inside, retrieved it, set it up on the kitchen table and searched for James Farley. Thank heavens the house had internet. Thanks Nan.

  He’d lived and worked in Kelowna, in British Columbia, Canada. But he wasn’t from the Mission area of British Columbia. Not that that made him an outsider. Mission was just one of many communities that had pulled together and suddenly became a town as it grew. No way to keep the growing parts and pieces separate anymore, so they’d been incorporated into the city of Kelowna.

  Farley was employed by an insurance company downtown. Maybe it was time to take Mugs for a walk along the boardwalk and check out where this guy had worked.

  Had the insurance company called him in as a missing person? Or had he been one of those employees who traveled most the time and only checked in occasionally, and the company didn’t know when he was coming back? Didn’t they realize he was missing?

  Unable to leave it alone, she quickly toasted herself a piece of bread to-go, then loaded Mugs into the car. She locked Thaddeus and Goliath in the house. With both cat and bird staring out the living room window at them, she got in the car and drove downtown.