Lethal Dose of Love Read online

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. They were friends,” Carter said.

  “Aden was Harry’s only friend.”

  “That’s not true,” argued Carter. “I was his friend.”

  “Hrmph. That’s why you didn’t even know the man was dead.” This was clearly the first time Helen voiced the thought aloud. Carter’s expression registered both shock and disappointment. Helen was quick to apologize.

  “Harry was diabetic,” Helen said, “plus he was suffering some sort of post traumatic stress from an injury in Korea.”

  “What sort of injury?” Payton asked.

  “He was shot in the leg,” Carter said. “Walked with a cane.”

  “So he was unsteady on his feet?”

  “He was careful.”

  “Do you remember when Aden first started coming to the Wanderlust meetings?” Payton asked.

  Carter chuckled. “That was back when men were allowed to come.”

  “Men are still allowed,” Helen said. “Sometimes Edward shows up.”

  “That’s because he won’t let Amanda out of his sight.”

  There it was again, another contradiction to the March’s relationship. “If Edward thought there was something between Amanda and Sean, what might he do?”

  “Simple. He’d kill Sean,” Carter said. Suddenly the air in the room changed.

  “Oh God,” Helen said.

  They sat silently with their thoughts for several moments. Finally Payton spoke, “I can’t see him buying a plant and mixing up a poison concoction though. That takes planning.”

  Carter pointed at Payton. “Wait. Explain.”

  “The police were at Payton’s store, searching for poisonous plants,” Helen said. “They insinuated Sean had been poisoned with a plant.”

  “No way Ed would use a plant,” said Carter. “If he killed Sean, it would be in a fit of anger.”

  Payton nodded. “I think a woman killed Sean.”

  “Anyone in particular?” Carter asked.

  “No. I’ve been talking and listening a lot, that’s all so far. What do you think about Amanda?”

  “No!” Helen said but then leaned back, blinked twice and said, “Maybe.”

  “She’s as gentle as a lamb. I’d more likely picture Helen— Ouch! Stop kicking me.” Carter bent down and rubbed his shin.

  “What kind of thing is that to accuse me of, Carter Mortenson?”

  “Oh stop it. I just meant that personality-wise, you’re more the type because you’re more logical, more likely to plan. Amanda’s sort of a scatterbrain.”

  “I never thought of her that way,” Payton said. “So when did Aden start coming to the meetings?”

  “Almost right from when he moved to town,” Helen said. “We dragged him everywhere at first.”

  “Ha!” Carter threw back his head and roared. “You dragged him everywhere, little Miss Matchmaker. He really disappointed her, though. He never went out with one of Helen’s setups more than once.”

  “When did he stop coming to the meetings?”

  “He didn’t come very often because of his job. I think he just sort of petered out.”

  “What about Sean? Did he ever come?”

  “In the beginning, yes.” Helen took a sip of coffee.

  “When did he stop?” Seeing Helen’s mounting confusion she said, “I’m trying to piece together a timeline. Was Sean still coming when Harry died? Did he and Aden ever come at the same time?”

  “When Aden found Harry dead, Sean was still attending the meetings. I remember because Sean made a rude comment about Harry. He said ‘the old gimp shouldn’t be trying to act like a kid.’”

  “No, that’s not exactly right,” Carter added. “He said ‘Old gimps shouldn’t try and do kids’ jobs.’”

  “You’re right,” Helen said. “That made Aden angry. He picked Sean up by the front of the shirt and shook him. Sean’s feet were right off the floor! Then Aden gave him one hell of a lecture about being respectful to his elders.” There was silence a moment, during which Payton tried to picture Aden angry. She failed.

  “You know,” Helen said, “it doesn’t seem as though Sean came to many meetings after that.”

  “Tell me about Sylvie.”

  Helen wrinkled her nose but leaned back in her chair. “She grew up here. Married Garson French. He was a captain in the Air Force, and for a few years they lived on bases around the country. Moved back here when he got out, but things weren’t good between them. They got divorced a short time afterward. He moved away. She stayed. Never married again. I don’t think she dated anyone either.”

  “Has she always been in real estate?”

  “No. She was a high school English teacher back then. I can’t remember exactly when she opened the agency. I went to work for her—”

  “She talked you into working for her,” Carter interrupted.

  “Yes,” Helen admitted. “I stayed as long as I could take it, then went out on my own.”

  “She was hard to work for?”

  Carter chuckled. “In case you haven’t noticed, Sylvie’s not a people person.”

  “But she knew it,” Helen said. “That’s why she asked me to come in with her. Paid for real estate classes and everything.”

  “When you left, was it amicable?”

  “Yes and no. We had a falling out but patched most of it up afterward.”

  “What do you know about her life now?”

  “You mean besides the cats?” Helen asked.

  Helen didn’t mention the smell so neither did Payton. “Did Sean and Sylvie have any real estate dealings? Any relationship at all?”

  “There was something, while I worked there.” Helen put a finger to her lips, thinking. “Sean put a deposit on a piece of land. A few days later, I saw Sylvie tear up his check and accept someone else’s. When I asked about it, she said only that he’d backed out of the deal. But later, Sean was livid, so I knew she was lying.”

  “Interesting. Do you recall who bought the land?”

  “No. Sorry. It’s probably in the town tax records.” Helen’s phone rang.

  Payton looked at her watch. “I have to get to the shop.” She took her cup to the kitchen, rinsed it and put it in the sink. She practically danced across the lawn to her house. Things were really taking shape. Get people talking and there was no end to what you could find out. She retrieved the shop keys and her backpack. Claire hadn’t arrived yet, so she locked up and headed for town.

  Just as she’d thought, Aden and Sean had a previous relationship that ended on a bad note. And so did the relationship between Sean and Sylvie. Payton couldn’t wait to visit town hall and find out more about that land deal.

  THIRTY-THREE

  MaryAnn wasn’t scheduled to work, yet she arrived at noon bearing a large white bag. “I thought you might be hungry.” She drew out a pair of Styrofoam containers. “Eat. I’ll go out back and get drinks.”

  “I’ll take these to the patio. It’s too nice to eat inside.”

  MaryAnn brought two Cokes, moisture already beading on the sides of the cans. Payton took a long sip and sighed.

  “Hard day?” MaryAnn asked.

  “Not really. I’m tired.” A few flowers had fallen from the monkshood plant onto the table. Payton picked them up and piled them on her napkin. “How are you holding up?”

  “I started cleaning out the house yesterday. I thought about putting it on the market but changed my mind.”

  “Can you handle living there?”

  “I think so. Once I get things cleaned out, repainted. You know what I mean.”

  “Can I help with anything?”

  “No. Thanks. Uh, you know what? I really would like—not help really—just someone to be there with me.”

  “There must be a lot of memories.”

  MaryAnn bit into a ham sandwich and chewed, looking out at the passing cars.

  “Did Sean have any friends?”

  MaryAnn swallowed. “Not since we got mar
ried. I can’t believe it’s been five years.”

  When Payton asked, “Did he ever tell you about being accused of rape?” MaryAnn’s eyebrows shot up into her bangs. “The guy who owned my house had a daughter. The girl was loose, as Helen calls it, and charges got dropped, but I wondered if you knew anything more.”

  “This is the first I’ve heard of it. Was this recent?”

  “No, back when they were teens.”

  “He raped me once.” Payton didn’t say anything. MaryAnn added only “he was drunk” and seemed inclined to say nothing more.

  They sat in silence for a while. Payton watched sparrows flit through the lattice, pecking at bugs on the plants, chirping as though they hadn’t a care in the world. She thought about how she’d misjudged Aden. He appeared carefree and easy-going on the surface. Yet, he’d physically manhandled Sean.

  Across the table MaryAnn had finished her lunch. She pushed the Styrofoam package away. Though pensive, she didn’t seem affected by the talk about Sean being a rapist.

  Payton stood and pushed the chair close to the table. “I’ll be off. Thank you for bringing lunch.” She dropped the containers, dead flowers, and her can into the shopping bag.

  “Anything special you need done?”

  “Nothing I can think of.” A tour bus rumbled to a stop in the parking lot. “Maybe I should stick around a while.”

  “No need. Tourists are rarely in a hurry. I’ll manage. Where’s the Wanderlust meeting today?”

  “At the battlefield. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “I’m fine. Really.”

  Payton squeezed MaryAnn’s arm. “Call if you need anything.” She turned left out of the store and waved through the lattice.

  At the battlefield, several blankets, looking like a giant patchwork quilt, were spread on the freshly cut grass. Shade from the elderly maples deflected the heat of the afternoon sun. A warm breeze riffled Payton’s hair against her cheek. She brushed it away, savoring the day. Helen, Felicia and Amanda were already there. The wind turned over the corner of a rectangular green blanket. Helen straightened it and sat down with a grunt of satisfaction. “Let’s see it pop up now!”

  Felicia and Amanda manned other corners. “We’re human anchors,” Amanda laughed.

  “Okay, I’ll take one.” Payton sat cross-legged on the fourth corner.

  Sylvie came down the hill. Payton eyed Helen watching her.

  “You okay with this?” Felicia asked.

  “Yes, it’s in the past.” Helen’s voice was calm, but her hands fidgeted in her lap.

  Sylvie nodded hello to Payton and set a foil-wrapped plate on one of the blankets. “I brought brownies.”

  “Potato salad for me,” said Helen.

  “Fried chicken,” chimed in Claire.

  “I didn’t expect we’d be sitting on the ground though,” added Sylvie. “Amanda, could I have some of that tossed salad, please?”

  “Well,” Amanda said, handing across the bowl, “nobody offered to bring chairs.”

  Sylvie lowered herself heavily onto a nearby blanket, facing the water, Payton noticed, so she didn’t have to make eye contact with Helen. “I’m down, but someone might have to help me up.”

  “No problem,” Amanda said. “But what I wonder is who’s going to help the first person up.”

  Payton laughed. “Maybe we can flag down a tourist.”

  “Where’s everyone else?” Sylvie asked.

  “Claire and Mamie are coming down the hill now,” Amanda said.

  “Mamie’s packed on a few pounds,” Sylvie offered.

  “That’s not a subject most of us are comfortable talking about, Sylvie.” Helen laughed, her weight was often a humorous topic of conversation. But Sylvie scowled and Helen shut up.

  Claire and Mamie soon settled, but both seemed out of sorts.

  Claire’s eyes darted back and forth, like roving Christmas lights. Mamie seemed nervous, too, but demonstrated it by looking only at the food in her lap. Payton was used to her not making eye contact, but today she never once looked up from her plate.

  Finally, topic of the meeting turned to Sean’s murder. There was an unspoken moment of silence for the two men, after which Sylvie said, “Never much liked Sean. Don’t know how he ever got hooked up with that nice Frank Simpson.”

  Amanda nodded slightly, but even Sylvie was content to let the subject drop.

  Payton wondered at the logic of mentioning her intention of finding the killer. If either of the three were guilty, they’d be on her thick as honey. Would any of them resort to a second murder if she got too close? What was she saying—Helen and Carter were no more murderers than her. Sylvie on the other hand…

  Sylvie’s voice brought her senses alert. “Bullshit. You could kill as easily as anyone else, given the right set of circumstances.”

  “No,” Felicia said. “I believe my inborn desire not to hurt anyone would overrule the part of me that’s angry enough to do something like that. Heaven knows, I’ve been in that position often enough with Brighton.”

  They all laughed, but there was no humor in it.

  “Haven’t you all been so angry you wanted to hurt someone? You manage to stop yourself, don’t you? Well, I believe that, even given those considerable circumstances, I could hold back.”

  “This wasn’t a crime of passion,” Helen said. “This was cold and well calculated in advance.”

  “You ought to know about cold and calculating,” Sylvie said.

  Helen bent forward, hand knit sweater almost in her potato salad. “Sylvie, what is your problem? What did I do to make you so angry?”

  “It’s your big mouth, that’s what. You telling your husband Sean got what was coming to him.”

  “What!”

  “I heard you, don’t try and deny it.”

  “I never said such a thing.”

  “No!” Sylvie got to her feet without any of the difficulty she’d proclaimed she’d have.

  “You must have misinterpreted something I said,” Helen protested.

  “Ladies,” Payton said.

  “You’re the one who should learn a little decorum,” Helen said.

  The word obviously stymied Sylvie for a moment, but she finally realized that whatever it meant, it wasn’t a compliment. “How dare you?”

  “If any of us could do such a thing as murder, it’s you.”

  “Ladies!”

  “What reason would I have for killing somebody, assuming I could do such a thing?”

  Lightning bolts from Sylvie’s eyes hit Helen squarely in the barricade that had, so far, controlled her temper. It broke with an almost audible snap. “You have as good a reason as anyone, Sylvie French. when you sold that parcel of land out from under Sean, he vowed he’d pay you back. And he did, didn’t he? He made sure you couldn’t get the variance on that strip-mall deal.”

  Sylvie spluttered, like a fire with ice water thrown on it. But she wasn’t ready to be extinguished yet. She balled her hands and shook them at Helen. “You’re saying I cheated Sean out of that land?”

  “Give a trophy to the lady. Yes, that’s exactly what you did. Sean gave you a ten thousand dollar deposit. I saw the check myself. You tore it up and went with a higher bidder.”

  “I—”

  “I was there, remember? Sean’s check was dated four days before the Carlson Corporation’s.”

  Sylvie shot another volley of lightning at Helen then stormed off up the hill.

  Amanda was first to break the awkward silence. “Well.”

  Helen pushed onto her knees and then to her feet. “I’m going home.”

  “We might as well all go,” Felicia said. “I feel the urge to apologize to Brighton.”

  “For what?” Amanda asked.

  “All the times I wanted to pound him into mush.”

  Together they folded the blankets, wrapped the uneaten food and went their separate ways. Mamie and Claire—who hadn’t spoken a word throughout the meeting—and
Payton walked up the hill together.

  “Claire, tell Payton your plan,” Mamie said suddenly.

  “I wanted to tell everyone at once, but…I’m going to ask Helen about reopening Sean’s café.”

  The words “you’re kidding!” squeezed between Payton’s lips before she could get her surprise-reflex under control.

  “Someone should be carrying on his legacy. MaryAnn doesn’t want to. She’s even selling his house.”

  “She’s decided to keep it.”

  “Good. Well, I’ll try and corner Helen at home. I want to get things rolling as quickly as possible.” Claire waved good-bye and strode away, not limping at all on her bad ankle.

  Mamie’s eyes focused on Payton’s top button. “Crazier and crazier.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Payton sat at her kitchen counter, perched on a stool. She gave a bored glance at the folded copy of the Watertown News and pulled it toward her. For the past two days, the story about Sean and Franks’ deaths had been relegated to the fourth page, but today it was once again splashed across the front—“Poisonous Plant Used in Sackets Harbor Deaths.” The article was short and didn’t state the specific plant that had been used. Either the police weren’t releasing the information or they didn’t know. Yet. She recalled the research saying many plants couldn’t be detected after death.

  The phone rang and Payton went to retrieve the cordless handset from the dining table. “Hello.”

  “Hello, dear.”

  “Hi, Helen.”

  “Did you hear the news about Claire? She was just here asking for a lease to reopen Sean’s café.”

  “I heard. What’s wrong with that?”

  “She doesn’t have any restaurant experience. She admitted it to me just now. What’s going on with her? With her job at the library she wouldn’t have time to run a restaurant anyway.”

  “Something’s definitely going on.”

  “Would you try and talk to Claire tomorrow? You know, talk her out of this ridiculousness.”

  Payton wasn’t sure ridiculousness was a word. “What have the cops been up to? I haven’t seen them around lately.”

  “I heard they’re back questioning Amanda and her husband.”