Deadly Nightshade (24 page)

“Atropine in the fudge I was supposed to have given Dojan.” She watched Domingo pour bacon fat into a glass dish.

“Easy to get hold of,” Domingo said. “Deadly nightshade grows all over the place. I'm willing to bet I can find some plants in my backyard now.” He held out the coffeepot. “Refill?”

“Thank you.” Victoria pulled a stool up to the kitchen counter. “Deadly nightshade,” she murmured. “Elizabeth and I were weeding it out of the garden a few days ago.”

Domingo stirred the eggs as he spoke. “All of it is poisonous. Especially the berries. A couple can be fatal.”

Victoria thought about her aunt warning her, years ago, against eating nightshade berries, even against touching the plant without washing her hands afterward.

“The berries are supposed to be sweet,” she said. “You wonder how anybody discovered that. Manny and the other boy probably didn't realize anything was wrong.”

“Manny must have ingested seven or eight berries in those three pieces of fudge.” Domingo lowered the heat under the eggs and continued to stir.

Victoria sipped her coffee, squinting her eyes against the steam. “Why would anyone want to harm Dojan?”

“You don't want to know, sweetheart.”

“Of course I want to know. Stop sheltering me. Why is someone after Dojan?”

Noreen came into the kitchen, brushing her blond hair. “Sleep okay, Mrs. Trumbull?”

“Wonderfully, thank you. Where's Elizabeth?”

“Still getting her beauty sleep.” Noreen patted Domingo on the shoulder and kissed his cheek. “Thanks, honey.”

“For what? I'm doing my usual morning routine.”

“Usual! You haven't touched that stove since we bought it seven years ago. I'm surprised you know how it works.”

Victoria laughed.

Domingo turned to her. “You see how much my woman appreciates me?”

“Domingo.” Victoria returned to their conversation. “I want to know what is going on.”

Domingo brushed eggshells into his hand from the countertop and dropped them into a plastic basket in the sink.

“She's right, you know,” Noreen said. “You and your macho shit, protecting us little women. You think Mrs. Trumbull is stupid or something?”

“No, honey. The fact is, someone is trying to silence her because she knows too much. Somebody thinks she's meddling. I don't want her to have any more knowledge than is necessary.”

Noreen laughed. “Come off it, Domingo. You think you're God or something? You think you have the right to decide what Mrs. Trumbull needs to know?”

“I'm thinking about her safety.” Domingo spooned salsa from a jar labeled VOLCANO! Into the eggs and stirred.

“Domingo! At least ask her if she likes that hot stuff in her eggs.”

“Who's cooking, you or me?”

“I want to know what's going on.” Victoria slapped her hand on the table. The saltshaker fell over, and she righted it.

“Morning, Gram. Morning, Noreen, Domingo.” Elizabeth appeared in the kitchen door, hair tousled, eyes puffy. She sat next to her grandmother at the counter. Noreen poured coffee.

Victoria curbed her irritation with Domingo long enough to greet Elizabeth, who looked, at the moment, like the sleepy six-year-old Victoria remembered from a quarter century ago.

She turned again to Domingo and slapped her gnarled hand on the countertop with each word. “What is going on, Domingo?”

“It's too early in the morning for this, Grammy.” Elizabeth reached for a paper towel and mopped up spilled coffee.

Domingo dished out eggs and placed rashers of bacon on the side without answering, then set the plates on the kitchen table.

“You witnessed Bernie's murder, you heard a vehicle leave the scene, and you heard a boat. But we don't know why Bernie was killed. It's possible it was connected with drug trafficking; we don't know for certain.” Domingo reached across the table for a piece of toast. “Pass the marmalade,” he said to Noreen.

“Say 'please,'” Noreen said.

“Please, honey.”

“Maybe some woman's father decided to get even with him,” Elizabeth said.

Domingo turned to Elizabeth. “Someone is concerned about how much your grandmother knows.” Domingo's heavy brows were drawn together in a frown. “They are also concerned with how much your grandmother is involved.”

“I'm not involved at all,” Victoria said hotly. “I don't know any more than what I've already told the police.” She sloshed orange juice into her empty glass.

“Don't forget,” said Domingo, pushing eggs onto his fork with his toast while he spoke, “you found that broken bottle and the checkbook cover. You haven't told the police that.” He shoveled eggs into his mouth and swallowed. “Of course, we have no reason to think those may be evidence. Also, you recognized the police chief's car as the one you heard the night Bernie was killed.”

“I don't know that I recognized it. All cars sound alike skidding on sand.”

“Next, someone followed you, quite possibly Meatloaf, at least twice, maybe more, possibly only trying to frighten you.”

“Well, he didn't.” Victoria scraped up the hot salsa from the edge of her plate, heaped it on top of her eggs, took a bite, and wiped her watering eyes.

“Someone else followed us,” Elizabeth said. “Dojan?”

“Most likely. Dojan is feeling protective of your grandmother.” Domingo bared his white teeth in a wolfish grin.

“I feel like the president,” Victoria said.

Domingo got serious again. “At first, I assumed that Meatloaf killed Bernie. Meatloaf would have done it that way— crude.”

“That's what I think, too.” Victoria toyed with her glass.

“Not so, sweetheart. Meatloaf was trying to hush you, but not because he was the killer. He was trying to protect someone else. He was trying to protect his boss, the one who paid him.”

“Then who killed Meatloaf?” Elizabeth put her toast back onto her plate. “And who was the boss he was trying to protect? Who tried to kill Dojan?”

Victoria interrupted with her own questions. “Who hoped to stop Elizabeth with the fallen tree limb and the oil slick? And who wrote those threatening notes to both of us?”

“One thing at a time.” Domingo pushed his chair back. “I don't know everything. However, when I was in the cell with Dojan, he told me things he should have kept to himself.”

“What did he tell you?” Victoria folded her napkin and set it beside her plate.

“The day Bernie was killed, Dojan told me, he'd gone out in his boat to pull his lobster traps on the Sound. When he came back into the harbor, he had engine trouble, so he pulled his boat up onto the beach near the osprey pole, in that small bay. He landed, fixed his motor, and watched the sunset.”

“I remember how spectacular it was that night,” Victoria said.

“Dojan sat on the beach in the shelter of a wild rosebush. He could see the dock, but unless someone knew he was there, they wouldn't have seen him. He saw the police car pull up and Bernie and Chief Medeiros get out. He watched them walk to the end of the dock. They argued, loudly enough so he could hear what they were saying. While they were arguing, Dojan saw Meatloaf scull a dinghy over from the dock by the liquor store, so quietly, Dojan didn't see him at first.”

Noreen got up and brought a fresh pot of coffee to the table.

Victoria watched Domingo through hooded eyes. “Then what?”

“Meatloaf tied up at the foot of the dock and waited. The argument got louder. Bernie grabbed a liquor bottle out of the chief's hand, broke it against the metal ring on the piling, and started after the chief, who whisked out that razor-sharp bayonet he wears in his boot. At that point, Meatloaf climbed the ladder. Dojan saw him twist Bernie's arms behind him. He couldn't see what the chief was doing, but he saw him jab the knife into Bernie, heard Bernie scream, saw Meatloaf cover his mouth. Dojan witnessed the whole thing.”

Elizabeth grunted.

“So Chief Medeiros killed Bernie,” Victoria whispered, her hand at her throat.

“That's what Dojan said. Meatloaf started up the motor on the dinghy and landed on the beach where you found the bottle and the checkbook cover. Then he returned to the liquor store dock.”

“That must have been the motor I heard,” Victoria said.

“Dojan told me other things he saw. He hung around for some time before he left. In fact, he saw Victoria and me go out in the launch. ...”

“Hey, I was there too,” Elizabeth said.

“Yas. He told me he saw Ms. Elizabeth, Victoria, and me searching; then he heard me call in. And after that, he saw the chief's car return to the scene.”

“Why didn't Dojan say anything?” Victoria frowned.

“Who would he report the killing to, Chief Medeiros?”

Victoria gave Domingo a tight smile. “You said there was something else Dojan talked about.”

“Yas.”

Victoria said, “What else?”

Domingo set his elbows on the table and looked intently from Elizabeth to Victoria to Noreen.

“What else?” Victoria said again.

“Dojan claimed he killed Meatloaf.”

“What!” Elizabeth stared at him.

Noreen shook her head.

“Everything is backward and upside down.” Elizabeth stood suddenly.

“Why?” Victoria asked, puzzled.

“Dojan had been tailing Meatloaf in an attempt to protect you, sweetheart. When the wife and I were in New York, Meatloaf came by to pick up the papers.”

“That was while I was watching Baby Mingo,” Victoria said.

“Later, that same evening, around eleven, eleven-thirty, Meatloaf returned with the signed papers. Dojan was following him and told me what happened.”

The room was quiet. Victoria heard the coffeepot burble, a car pass on the road.

“Dojan saw him open the sliding door into the living room; Meatloaf was carrying a folder. He picked up a paper from the table and read it, then put the folder down and set a coffee mug on top. Dojan followed him into the house, here.” Domingo pointed down at the floor. “He must have been quiet, because Meatloaf apparently didn't see him at first. When he finally looked up, he was startled. He called Dojan a 'crazy Indian' and asked him what the hell he was doing here.”

“What did Dojan say?” Elizabeth asked.

“Nothing. He said he stared at Meatloaf.”

“I can just see him, with those wobbly eyes like boiled eggs, only black, and those feathers quivering in his hair, and his dark clothes blending into the night,” Elizabeth said. “He'd spook anybody.”

“Go on, Domingo,” said Victoria.

“Meatloaf went over to the couch, sat down, and put his sunglasses on.”

“At midnight?” Elizabeth said.

Domingo shrugged. “That's what Dojan said. He said he walked toward the couch, where Meatloaf was sitting. The telephone rang, and Dojan didn't know whether he should answer it or not. He didn't, and it finally stopped ringing. He told Meatloaf he'd been watching him, and he asked him why he'd been following you.” He nodded at Victoria.

“Then what?” Victoria said.

“Meatloaf said, 'Get outta here, you crazy Indian.' Dojan stepped closer and told him to stay away from his friend. Meatloaf half-rose from the couch and twisted one of my harpoons out of the rack and threatened Dojan with it. Dojan backed away, and Meatloaf went out of the door, still holding the harpoon. When Meatloaf got into his van, Dojan went after him, followed him to the harbor. Apparently, Meatloaf expected to see someone on duty at the shack, but it was midnight by then, and no one was there.”

“I wasn't on duty that night,” Elizabeth said.

“Go on, Domingo,” said Victoria.

“Meatloaf was carrying the harpoon in one hand, banging on the door of the shack with the other. He turned when Dojan came up next to him, and he pointed the harpoon at Dojan. Dojan grabbed it and twisted it out of his hands. Meatloaf then pulled a switchblade on him, tried to slash his hands. Meatloaf yelled at him to keep away, but Dojan shoved him against the railing with the shaft of the harpoon. Meatloaf kept trying to slash him with the knife. Dojan could see the sweat pouring down his face. Suddenly, the railing gave way and Meatloaf dropped his knife, which skidded off the deck and fell into the water. He tried to grab the harpoon as he lost his balance, then tried to grab the broken railing, but his hands slid off. He tumbled, arms flailing to the sides, his feet bicycling in the air, and hit with a splash that sent water up the sides of the shack. He surfaced, blowing water out of his mouth in a spume, his cap and dark glasses gone, his hair plastered on his scalp, his windbreaker translucent and filled with water. He paddled frantically with both hands. Dojan stood above him with the harpoon in his hand and flung it.”

“Mv God!” said Noreen.

Victoria looked down at her plate. “And after that, Dojan went to the Sand Bar and had a drink or two.”

“More like five or six,” Domingo replied. “But not right away. He built himself a sweat lodge on top of the Gay Head cliffs and tried to sweat out the evil.”

“It's not Gay Head anymore,” Elizabeth said. “The name's Aquinnah now.”

“He's attempting to get back to his roots,” Victoria said, toying with her fork. “I suppose when that didn't work, he went on his binge.”

All of them were silent.

Finally, Victoria pushed her chair away from the table. 'This is awful. Shouldn't we notify the police?”

“Chief Medeiros?” Domingo said, raising his eyebrows. “I don't think so.”

“If he hadn't been so hungover, he'd probably have eaten the fudge,” Elizabeth said.

Domingo nodded.

“Why did he tell you? Was he afraid they were going to charge you with Meatloaf's murder?” Victoria asked.

“He needed to get it off his chest, sweetheart.”

“Did anyone overhear him?” Victoria asked.

“While we were talking, I saw Howie tiptoe past the cell. I don't know how long he'd been listening. When I went to the door and rattled the bars and shouted obscenities at him, he left.”

“You think Howie reported what he heard to someone? To Chief Medeiros, maybe?” Victoria asked. “Surely the chief would want to silence anyone who knew what had happened.”

“Before I became aware that Howie was listening, Dojan told me that he was on the beach fixing his motor the night of the killing.”