Beeline to Trouble (11 page)

“I stopped off at your house,” Milly said to Holly, “to drop off a few things for your guests that I whipped up.”

“Thank you, Milly,” my sister said with a ton of gratitude.

“You’re the best,” I told Milly, having pretty much forgotten about feeding guests rather than interrogating them.

“That Effie is so sweet,” Milly said. “What’s happened is such a shame. It’s upset the entire household. Imagine! Poisoned!”

“Speaking of poison, tell me more about water hemlock,” I said, while we worked together to arrange the bouquets.

“It’s a member of the carrot family,” Milly said. That made sense, since Hunter had already told me it smelled like carrots.

“The roots are the most toxic part of the plant,” she went on to a growing audience as customers overheard the topic and joined us. Even Stanley Peck sidled over to listen. “
Cicuta
, or water hemlock, is also called cowbane, because if it’s allowed to grow in pastures, cattle will chew it, and that’s the end of them.”

“If water hemlock is deadly enough to kill something the size of a cow,” Stanley said, “imagine what happens to a human!”

We all thought about that for a few seconds.

“Does it grow around here?” Holly wanted to know. I could actually read her mind. If it did, she wasn’t venturing out into the wild ever again. She sure was a big baby when it came to the natural world.

Milly nodded, confirming another factoid already in my knowledge base, thanks to Hunter. “Yes it does. In fact, I can show you where some is growing right now.”

“We need to eradicate it,” someone in the group said. “Let’s go now!”

Just then, Lori Spandle showed up, heard that last comment, and assumed we were talking about my bees. “About time everybody wised up,” she said. “Story Fischer’s bees are aggressive. And you all read the
Reporter
. They might be responsible for killing that poor woman.”

“Stuff it, Lori,” Stanley said. “That’s hogwash and you know it.”

I noticed that Lori had a file folder with her. If those were rental papers for my mother to sign . . . well . . . they better not be. I hadn’t even had time to prepare Hunter yet.

“Mom,” I said to my mother, who still had control of the cash register. “We’re going with Milly to identify water hemlock.”

“I’ll stay here and mind the store,” she said.

“No.” I had to get her away from the paperwork in Lori’s clutches. “The twins can watch the store. Besides, most of our customers are coming along with us, right guys?” A bunch of them nodded.

“We can handle things here,” Trent agreed.

“Well, I’m definitely
not
going,” Holly said. “I’ll help Trent and Brent.”

“See,” I said to Mom. “Plenty of volunteers to stay. Let’s go.”

“But we have business to conduct,” Lori said to my mother.

“It’ll have to wait,” Mom told her. “Story’s right, I need to know what this dangerous stuff looks like. Some of our neighbors raise cows. They will want to know if it’s growing where it shouldn’t.”

“Then I’m coming along, too.” The real estate agent in Lori wasn’t letting go.

“Where’s Grams?” Mom said, her neck swiveling in all directions. “She should come along and take pictures of it.”

“Here I am!” We saw an arm shoot up in the air from the back of the room. My little grandmother had to be delighted—usually Mom exhibited extreme impatience with Grams’s photography, yet now here she was, endorsing it.

A whole pack of us headed down the street, Milly in the lead.

Hunter happened to be driving south on Main at the same time we were traveling north. He pulled over, rolled down his window, and called out to me, “You haven’t organized a lynch mob, have you?”

Without slowing down, Mom said, “Hello, Hunter. We’re about to get a lesson in poisonous hemlock.”

At that, Hunter parked his truck and jumped out, released Ben from the back, clipped on a leash, and joined us as we marched past Stu’s Bar and Grill. Some of the bar patrons joined us, too.

Milly led the way down to the left side of the bridge, where we edged along the Oconomowoc riverbank. She had quite an entourage by the time we cut through the brush and followed the river. “None of this along here is it,” she told a few of the more hesitant souls who were reluctant to touch anything remotely green and growing, just in case it happened to be water hemlock.

Hunter, Ben, and I brought up the rear of the party. Hunter took my hand as we stepped over rocks.

I had to admit to myself that it wasn’t the same without Patti tagging along. She was usually the first in line when it came to adventure. She would have loved this outing. I told myself I didn’t really miss her. It just wasn’t the same. I was only saying that Patti would have been in the thick of things if she’d been around. In her element.

Where
, I stopped to think,
was Patti now?

I’ve wondered a lot about my neighbor’s secretive past. Turns out, she really did have some skeletons in her closet. But if she had family to stay with, I didn’t know where they lived or who they were. Before she caught me in her house, Patti had never shared a single private piece of information, always redirecting personal questions away from herself.

Up ahead, Milly continued into a marshy area where cattails grew tall and muck squished between my flip-flopped toes. Milly hadn’t said anything about our having to plow through mud.

She came to a halt. “There it is. Make absolutely sure you don’t touch it!” she warned us. “Just look.”

Mom was up front and center, with Lori leeched on to her like the blood sucker she was. We made a path for Grams and her camera, and the group took turns moving forward and viewing the pretty plant that had played the major part in killing Nova Campbell. In its natural setting, it looked harmless, with whispery, lanky, delicate flowers and leaves. No one would ever suspect it of such toxic potential.

Except maybe a flavorist.

“Has Sally thoroughly questioned Holly’s houseguests?” I whispered into Hunter’s ear. “And confirmed their whereabouts that morning?”

“You mean she should?” We made eye contact. His were dancing.

“Am I interfering again?”

“Just a little.”

“Sorry.”

On the way back, Lori and I accidentally bumped into each other, and she slipped and fell into the river. Her file folder and paperwork sank with her.

Oops.

Seventeen

Lori Spandle and I have been getting in each oth
er’s face since first grade when she started our ongoing war by throwing me off the school’s play equipment. I’d broken my arm.

So her little dip in the river was nothing compared to some of our earlier skirmishes.

She came up out of the murky water sputtering and spitting, her round face beet red, which was really nothing new. It was a pleasure to watch as the rental papers scattered in the water, sinking slowly, the ink running in unreadable streaks.

Others stepped forward to help Lori out of the water. I could hear her swearing like a truck driver, showing the world the real Lori Spandle. I immediately stepped back, happy that my small role hadn’t been obvious to the rest of the group. Hunter, however, was on to me immediately.

“Did you really just push Lori into the river?” he whispered, the lightness of his tone cluing me in that he was enjoying the moment almost as much as I was. He’d seen Lori in action and didn’t like what he saw, either. As part of her quest to undermine me, Lori had actually hit on Hunter back in high school, and then again after we reconnected as adults. Wasn’t she supposed to be married? Such a pity our poor cuckolded town chairman, Grant, was stuck with her as a wife! Although her husband wasn’t a great prize himself.

“You’re going to appreciate it even more,” I said to Hunter, leading him away as quickly as possible, “once you hear what she’s up to now.”

I hurried Hunter over to Stu’s, to an outdoor table behind the bar and grill, out of sight, but definitely not out of Lori’s mind, based on my name, which was being taken in a whole lot of vain. I’d have to watch my back with her, but what else was new?

Hunter released Ben from the leash, and he plopped down at our feet, licking his paws.

“Have you told Sally about the Patti connection yet?” Hunter wanted to know.

“I will. Right after we leave here.” At the moment my mind was on Lori and my mother. “Brace yourself,” I warned Hunter. “This is not pleasant news.”

He sighed, one of those really tired kinds of sighs—deep and long, implying he wasn’t prepared for what I had to offer, but was resigned to whatever it turned out to be.

“My mother and Tom Stocke are moving in together,” I told him. Hunter’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I know,” I said. “Who would have thought? Aren’t they way too old for that sort of thing?”

Hunter pondered my announcement for a few minutes then decided to say, “Good for them. I like Tom. He’s good people.”

What? Was I the only one who could see how wrong this was? Holly approved. So did Grams. Now Hunter, too?

I cleared my throat. “There is just one tiny issue that goes along with their decision. One small problem we need to discuss.”

“I’m braced,” he said.

“Mom and Tom are moving in next door to us, into my ex’s vacant house.”

To the casual observer, nothing about Hunter changed much. You’d have to know him as well as I do to see the signs. They were subtle—jaw and lips a little tighter, nostrils slightly twitching (one at a time), Adam’s apple quivering, eyes planted on the river as though deep in thought.

As I waited for him to say something, I tried not to revert to the same old pessimism I’d been struggling with. I wanted to believe in the power of us. He wasn’t going to leave me over this, was he? My mother had never been kind to him. Hunter didn’t deserve what she was about to dish out. In fact, he shouldn’t have to go through any of what my whole family was dragging him into. A body in his new yard, his live-in lover (that’s me) the bearer of poisoned carrot juice, my mother spying from next door, like a vulture, watching and waiting.

If I was Hunter, I might run like hell.

I waited some more.

Eventually, he rubbed his chin. He scanned the river. What was he thinking? Was I turning out to be a liability he couldn’t afford? After what seemed like forever, Hunter finally spoke. “I’m going back to the house for something to relieve the headache I feel coming on.”

The house. During the honeymoon phase, it had been “our” house; then when things got dicey it turned into “my” house; now it was “the” house. Not a good sign.

“Are you okay?” I had to know.
Please say yes.

“Probably,” Hunter replied.

Right then, we were interrupted by a very unpleasant piece of news delivered without a single gossipy bit of advance warning. Someone from the top of the bridge, right above us, said, “Well, look what we have here.”

I didn’t have to look up to know that smug, arrogant voice.

Johnny Jay! He was back. And the timing couldn’t be worse.

I should have immediately found Sally when I had the chance and given her the information about Patti. Now the chief was back in town which meant that Sally was back to being just a regular cop. Darn. Well, at least Hunter was here to support me.

Hunter went into professional mode and greeted the chief as he walked down from the bridge to join us. Then Hunter said, “We have a few more pieces of the murder puzzle. Why don’t you sit down with us and we’ll fill you in?”

“I don’t need Fischer’s twisted interpretation of the truth,” Johnny said. “Or anything from her boyfriend, either. You aren’t on this case, Wallace.”

“I know that,” Hunter said. “But you’ll want to hear what we know.”

Johnny Jay pulled a phone from his belt and punched in numbers. Hunter rubbed his forehead.

“I’m trying to explain to Hunter Wallace that he isn’t needed here,” Johnny said after identifying himself.

Hunter closed his eyes and rubbed his head some more.

“Your captain wants to speak to you,” the chief said snidely, handing the phone to Hunter. Johnny Jay’s territorialism has been broadcast far and wide and nobody challenges his authority unless they want a long battle. It just isn’t worth it to most other law enforcement agencies.

Hunter listened, then disconnected and handed the phone back to the chief. “I need to get going,” he said. I suspected he was being called off to preserve the peace. Hunter and Johnny Jay have gone a few rounds in the past and this had the potential of escalating into one of those manly pushing and shoving and in-your-face situations. His captain was probably doing a smart thing.

“You’ll be okay?” Hunter asked me.

“I can handle myself,” I half truthed, then watched him take off with Ben.

The chief eyed me with a scowl. “You and your sister stay put. Don’t attempt to leave town.”

“When have I ever run away from a fight with you?” I replied, playing tough. “I live for these moments.”

“Fischer, I’m going to keep reading my legal book until the time is right, and then I’m going to throw it at you.”

“Bring it on,” I said.

“And where is that nosy neighbor of yours?” he asked. “I’d like a word or two with her.”

“You’re on your own there.”

I went back to the store, tired from a very long day. After making sure everything was stocked properly and running smoothly for the evening with the twins on duty, I went home.

Later, when Hunter and Ben came home, we sat on the front porch, eating Chinese carryout right from the boxes. We didn’t really have much to say to each other.

Patti’s house was dark.

So was Mom’s future home.

Male bullfrogs called into the night, trying to attract females. The river hummed with awakening nocturnal life.

When Hunter went inside, I decided to push my kayak out onto the river and spent the next few hours paddling around, clearing my mind of all thoughts.

When I returned, Hunter and Ben were back outside, waiting for me on the bank. Hunter wrapped his arm around my shoulders and we walked into the house, which still seemed to be waiting for the right possessive noun to make it special.