A Taste of Death (Maggie Olenski Series) (13 page)

"What were you doing in Leslie's sunroom?" he asked.

"Investigating, of course," Dyna said. "We know Elizabeth didn't kill Jack Warwick. You don't really believe she did either, do you?"

"Investigating?" John repeated, a scowl forming on his normally impassive face.

Maggie uneasily recalled her earlier assurance to him that she wouldn't play private investigator. But everything had changed since then. She didn't want to go into it all right now, and simply asked, "You said 'it's there too'. Where else is it?"

"The foyer of Morgan's restaurant, for one."

"Oh," Dyna said. "Maggie wondered. She almost snitched a piece of his plants, but the mayor and his wife walked in."

John gave Maggie a look that pushed her to defend her actions. "I don't think I'm interfering with police work, just trying to come up with anything you might not have thought of. Obviously you thought of checking Dan Morgan's foyer."

"Yes, he has an oleander plant there."

"So maybe he made the poison that killed Jack," Dyna put in, looking quite satisfied to Maggie. Leslie or Dan, it clearly didn't matter to Dyna which, as long as it wasn't Elizabeth.

"He could have. Half the town could have too," John said. "Dan told us, and Vickie confirmed it, that all his foyer plants were trimmed a few days back, and the clippings dumped in one of the cans out back. So much they overflowed it. The cans stand next to a well-used alleyway. Anyone could have come by and helped themselves, if they knew what to look for. Including Elizabeth," he added.

Dyna's face fell. "But she wouldn't have, you have to know that, John."

"I can't get into that."

"Elizabeth may be getting a lawyer," she said. "Paul Dekens said he'd help her get one."

John merely nodded at this.

"May I ask," Maggie said, "what was it that sent you to search Elizabeth's place? You haven't searched anyone else's, as far as I know. Why hers?"

"Elizabeth's lawyer, whoever that is, will be informed that we had the proper search warrant issued for probable cause." John took a long drink from his coffee mug. "Elizabeth had a motive to kill Warwick. You probably heard the gossip." Maggie nodded. "A prosecutor could do a lot with the 'rejected woman seeks revenge' argument. You're right, though. Several others who were at that town meeting had good reasons for wanting Jack Warwick dead. But we didn't get a tip from a certain concerned citizen about happening to stumble upon some rather incriminating evidence in anyone else's kitchen cupboard."

"A certain concerned citizen! Who? Who are you talking about?"

John stood up and pulled bills from his pocket to cover the tab. "That, for now, is the business of the authorities, which, it seems I need to remind you, you are not one of."

John put his hat on and gave Maggie a hard look. "In other words, Miss Olenski, a murder investigation is serious business, not a game. Stop playing Nancy Drew and leave the police work to the police."

John turned and walked out, leaving Maggie to stare after him. She felt her anger at his words slowly warming her cheeks before the cold outside air, let in by his exit, reached her booth with its chill.

"N
ancy Drew?" Dyna said, her face a picture of indign
ation, which Maggie was sure her
s mirrored.

New customers had come in with questions for Dot about her cracked window. These provoked agitated responses, and the noise level in the small shop grew rapidly.

"Let's talk about it in the car," Maggie said, and she slid out of the booth, followed quickly by Dyna.

John's car was gone, its parking space now occupied by a tan pick-up. Maggie climbed over the snow bank at the curb and into her Cavalier, Dyna slipping at the same time into the passenger seat.

"How could he say that to you?" Dyna asked, buckling up with clumsy fingers. Maggie watched the fumbling, unsure if it was caused by the thick gloves Dyna wore, or the agitation John seemed to have stirred up.

"He's the sheriff. He has every right. It is his job, and he was just telling us that," Maggie answered. She didn't know if her explanation was to calm Dyna or herself. To be accused of playing games had stung. She wasn't playing. Maggie felt she understood the seriousness of the situation as much as anyone. It was only because she was completely convinced of Elizabeth's innocence and the danger she was now in that Maggie had gotten involved. She took a deep breath, realized the air in the car was quite cold, and turned on the ignition.

"Let's not worry about John, for now. What do you think of that piece of information he gave us," she said.

"About the concerned citizen tipping them off?"

"Yes.

"That was weird. Who could it have been?"

"I don't know." Maggie rubbed her hands, which, even in their gloves were beginning to feel the cold. She looked at the car's heater, willing it to start blowing warm air.

"The murderer!" Dyna said, her eyes growing wide. "The murderer could have planted the bottle and the book in Elizabeth's cabinet, then called John anonymously to tell him where to look."

Maggie thought about that. "Maybe. But John didn't say it was an anonymous tip. He said it was a certain concerned citizen. I don't think John would have acted on an anonymous tip, do you? So he must have the identity of this citizen. Would the murderer take a chance of putting himself in the spotlight like that?"

"No," Dyna admitted reluctantly, "probably not, if he had to give his name and all. John could think he - or she - had actually put the stuff there."

"So who did call?" Maggie asked. "Who, as John, said, 'happened to stumble' on this incriminating evidence, and felt guilt-free enough to report it? Who was poking into Elizabeth's cupboards?"

"We were," Dyna said. "But that was later, you know, after John had already been there, when we were fixing her breakfast."

"So someone was in Elizabeth's kitchen, very soon after Jack Warwick was poisoned. Maybe doing the same thing we were, cooking up a meal for Elizabeth. She must know who that is."

"Let's go ask her."

"Yes, eventually," Maggie said, "but I'd like to go to Regina's right now. Catch her before she hurries out - she always seems so busy - and try to talk to her a bit while I get those dinner tickets from her."

"So drop me at Elizabeth's. No, drop me at the supermarket. I'll pick up some supplies for her like we were talking about, then I'll have a good long talk with her."

"Can you carry bags of groceries there?"

"No problem. I guess you don't have the layout of the town in your head yet, but the market's just a couple blocks away."

Maggie thought about the route they had taken that first morning to get to the supermarket, most of it coming back now. Dyna was right, the market wasn't too far from Elizabeth's. "Well, that would save some time, if you don't mind." It occurred to Maggie that besides re-stocking Elizabeth's bare kitchen and hopefully learning who had called John, Dyna's natural buoyancy might also help lift the depression that probably still hovered there. "I'll pick you up on my way back."

"No, no," Dyna flapped her hand, "I'll walk back, through the path. That way we can both take as much time as we need." As Maggie put the car in gear and pulled into the traffic lane, Dyna asked, "What do you think? About what I should pick up for Elizabeth, I mean?"

"I don't know if she's vegetarian or not, if that's what you're wondering. She needed milk, maybe some fresh fruit, a few frozen dinners." She glanced over at Dyna and said, "Oh, and she might like a nice, big package of Oreos."

Dyna shook her head firmly. "Uh-uh. After last night I don't even want to look at those things."

Maggie grinned, and wondered how long chocoholics managed to stay on the wagon. It occurred to her that food cravings were certainly inconvenient, at best, and unhealthy at worst. As she braked for a stop light she reached for one of the sourballs in her console and unwrapped it, thinking how fortunate she had no addictions like that. She popped the candy in her mouth and savored it's sour-sweetness. Mmm, tangy grape.

<><><>

Maggie stood at the door of the large, old house. It wasn't what she would have expected for an older, single woman. With a huge, Victorian-style veranda, three full floors, and a spacious yard, the place clearly required a lot of upkeep, and from what Maggie could see so far, had been getting it. She wondered how Regina managed.

She pressed the doorbell and heard an echoing "bing-bong". It was several seconds before the door was pulled open, and Regina stood before her, her small frame three-quarters wrapped in an immense white apron, impatiently beckoning her in.

"I'm in the middle of something in the kitchen," she said by way of greeting, and turned on her heel to lead the way, walking Maggie through a dim hallway with rooms on each side. Maggie caught glimpses of heavy draperies and dark, old fashioned furniture. The kitchen, when they reached it, wasn't much cheerier, but did at least welcome her with pleasant aromas.

"Fixing a couple casseroles to take that Kerr woman," Regina said, as she resumed her place at a cutting board that had a  mound of chopped onion on it. Several small zucchinis and an eggplant sat beside the board, and Maggie saw a bowl of beans nearby.

"Elizabeth?"

Regina nodded. "Saw her this morning when I was out walking. Doesn't look good, probably not eating like she should. Can't blame her, with all that's going on."

Maggie's first thought was how considerate that was of Regina, but she instinctively refrained from saying so, sure that Regina would look on it as merely the sensible thing to do and anyone who didn't automatically think so was an idiot.

"Help yourself to some coffee." Regina jerked an elbow in the direction of the coffee pot. "I'll get those tickets for you in a second."

"Take your time. I'm in no hurry." Maggie picked up a mug that sat beside the pot, glad that she had an opportunity to dally a while. She had been afraid Regina would meet her at the door with tickets in hand, and she wouldn't get two words out of her.

Regina resumed chopping, doing it as rapidly and efficiently as Maggie thought she must do just about everything in her life. She mixed ingredients and seasonings in a large baking dish, grated cheese over the top, and slid it into her oven, all the while lecturing Maggie on the vitamin and mineral content of each component, and the superiority of this kind of meal over the average American's dinner.

Maggie watched and listened without comment, taking an occasional sip from her mug of what turned out to be delicious coffee. When Regina wiped her hands and sat down at the large oak table opposite her, Maggie asked, "Was Elizabeth out walking so early too?"

"Don't know exactly what she was doing. Maybe just getting a breath of air when she knew most townspeople wouldn't be out and about."

Maggie nodded. "I'm glad she is getting out. Was this the first time you've seen her since the town meeting?" she asked, thinking she might as well narrow her list of possible "concerned citizens".

Regina looked at her sharply, and grunted along with a quick nod. Maggie thought that was quite likely the truth. If Regina had found the book and bottle of poison, and hadn't planted it there herself, of course, Maggie couldn't picture her simply calling John and waiting for him to do something about it. She would almost certainly drag Elizabeth by the hair to the sheriff's office herself. The question that remained, however, was did Regina plant the evidence herself.  

"Making this casserole for Elizabeth, I assume you have some sympathy for her situation, the fix she's in."

Regina snorted. "I have little sympathy for someone who fools around with a married man. But Jack Warwick was a manipulating charmer, a predator. Going after that young woman, the state she was in after her mother's death, was akin to child abuse, in my opinion. He was a rogue, a devil who deserved what he got."

"But you don't think Elizabeth poisoned him, do you?"

"Don't know. Don't really care who did poison him. All I know is she's in a heap of trouble right now."

"Yes, she is. And she's going to need a lot of help.'

"Best help she can get at this point is a good lawyer."

"I agree."

"Tom S
c
haeffer."

"Tom S
c
haeffer?"

"Lawyer. Best in the county. She should get Tom S
c
haeffer."

The phone rang and Regina stood up to answer it. It seemed to be someone on the school fund-raising committee with questions about the logistics of the dinner, which Regina responded to with brusque, precise answers. When she hung up she said, "I'll get those tickets for you. Two?"

Maggie nodded, and Regina left the room, returning in seconds with a large, brown envelope. She pulled out two tickets and remained standing as Maggie wrote the check, sending the clear signal that her break was over and their conversation was ended.

As they walked back down the dim hallway Maggie searched for something to keep Regina talking, and, glancing in the living room, commented on the furniture. "Are they antiques?" she asked.