Hemlock for the Holidays Page 11

  I hadn't attended a funeral in years, not since my great-aunt had died. People didn't always wear black to funerals anymore, but I decided a dark color would be most appropriate, so, when Laddie and I got home, I pulled my navy suit out of the back of my closet and selected matching navy tights and shoes to wear with it. I left the ensemble out so that everything would be within easy reach when I was ready to go.

  A few hours later, after I'd showered and dressed, I looked in the mirror and saw how severe I looked in my suit. I added a silver brooch and one of my abstract silk scarves in blue and green hues, and I was satisfied that the additions had softened my appearance.

  Normally, I would have taken Laddie to Belle's for the afternoon, but, since she would be attending a Library Auxiliary meeting, Laddie would have to stay home with only Mona Lisa for company. My calico kitty was hiding under the sofa when I left, but Laddie accompanied me to the kitchen door, looking quite down as I prepared to depart.

  “Be a good boy, Laddie, and take a nap,” I said on my way out the door. With nothing else to occupy him, I felt sure he'd be sleeping before long.

  When I arrived at the funeral home for Eric's memorial service, I was a bit surprised to see how many cars were in the parking lot. Inside, an usher was directing people, and I realized that Eric's wasn't the only service being held. A small sign by the door confirmed that I was in the right room, which was almost full. Perhaps Eric had been better known than I'd assumed, or maybe the fact that his hemlock-induced death was so unusual had drawn a crowd.

  I hoped Susan had arrived before me, but, on first glance, I didn't see her. I did spot the police chief, sitting in the back row with Dave Martinez and Lieutenant Belmont. I walked slowly up the left aisle, looking for Susan, and finally found her sitting close to the front. The chair next to her had a coat draped over it, and I stepped gingerly in front of a few people, inching my way across the row of chairs, until I made it to my seat. Susan picked up her coat and placed it over the back of her chair as I sat down beside her.

  “I guess I should have started out earlier,” I whispered. “I had no idea it would be so crowded.”

  “Neither did I, but Eric's lived in Lonesome Valley his entire life, and he knew a lot of people, even though I don't think he had any really close friends.”

  We waited silently while soft music played in the background. From where we were sitting, I could see Josh and Kayla in the front row, along with Rebecca and Greg and a few other people I didn't recognize.

  A pastor dressed in a black robe led the service. After prayers and a hymn, Josh took the podium to eulogize his uncle. Giving an elegant and well-crafted speech, he managed to hold himself together until he was almost finished, but he was choking on his own tears by the time he delivered the last line. He went back to his seat in the front row, where Kayla embraced him.

  The pastor moved on quickly to invite others to share memories of Eric. For an awkward moment, nobody stood to come forward, but, then, just as I thought there wouldn't be another speaker, Josh's neighbor, Jack, stepped up and talked briefly about what a nice guy Eric had been. It struck me as a little odd since he'd told me he hadn't known him too well the night we'd discovered Eric's body.

  Susan leaned over and said, “I think I should say something.” When the neighbor had finished, she stepped forward and talked about Natalie and Eric, how much he'd missed his wife, and that they were together again.

  Tears were streaming down her face by the time Susan finished speaking, and she struggled to compose herself after she came back to her seat.

  There was a short lull, and it looked as though the pastor was about to continue the service, when I heard urgent, hushed voices behind me. I turned around to see what was happening, and I wasn't alone. Everybody within earshot had directed their attention to the arguing couple.

  “Don't do it, Kevin. This isn't the place.”

  “Gina, I'm going to tell everyone what a low-down—”

  “No, you're not! Quiet down. You're causing a scene.”

  Kevin shrugged and rose from his chair. His wife grabbed his arm, but he shook her hand off and marched to the front.

  “They say not to speak ill of the dead,” he proclaimed, “but I ask 'why not?' From what you've heard today, you'd think Eric Thompson was the greatest guy in the world. Well, I'm here to tell you that's a lie. He was a thief and a con man.”

  “Sir,” the pastor said, flipping a switch to kill the mic, “that's most inappropriate. We're here today to celebrate a man's life.” He attempted to take Kevin by the arm, but Kevin eluded his grasp. By this time, the chief and Sergeant Martinez were on their way to the front.

  Kevin saw them coming and shouted, “I have a right to speak!”

  “You've said enough,” the chief told him. “I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Oh, yeah? Make me.”

  Since neither Sergeant Martinez nor the chief was dressed in his uniform, Kevin had no way of knowing they were police officers, but when Dave Martinez flashed his badge, Kevin backed down.

  “Fine,” he said. “I'll leave, but it doesn't change anything. Eric Thompson was a con man!”

  As everyone looked on in shock, he stomped off down the aisle, but his wife didn't follow him, and the pastor calmly resumed the service, as though nothing untoward had occurred. After a final hymn and prayer to conclude the memorial, an usher led Josh, Kayla, Rebecca, Greg, and the others who'd been sitting in the front row out. He returned to dismiss the crowd, row by row, starting from the back, but it was slow going. Since Susan and I were close to the front, it was quite a while before we were invited to leave.

  Right outside the door, Josh and everyone else who'd been sitting with him in the front row had formed a reception line to accept condolences.

  After I'd expressed my sympathies to Josh, Kayla, and Greg, I came to Rebecca.

  “Be sure to stop by our house for the reception,” she said in a low voice. “I was going to ask the pastor to announce it, but, when I saw how many people were here, I knew there were too many for us to accommodate. I had no idea so many would show up.”

  Not wishing to delay the people behind me, I told Rebecca I'd be there and moved along, murmuring condolences to the others in the line, then stood aside and waited for Susan to join me.

  “Are you going to the reception?” I asked her.

  “I suppose so. Chip texted me about it before you came. I assumed they'd let everybody know, but it wasn't announced at the service. I wonder why.”

  “Rebecca told me they didn't expect such a big crowd, so she couldn't invite everybody because there wouldn't be enough room in the house.”

  “Yes, it was quite a tribute to Eric. Too bad his former partner had to show up.”

  Susan and I walked out to the parking lot together. I blinked in the bright Arizona sunshine, which felt all the brighter since we'd been inside, in a room with dim lighting.

  “Uh, oh. There's Kevin over there. He didn't get too far after he left.”

  Kevin and Gina were engaged in a heated conversation. Finally, she'd had enough. Flouncing away from her husband, she climbed into the passenger seat of a large silver SUV and slammed the door. Kevin ignored her and turned his attention to the door through which Susan and I had just exited. He didn't have long to wait until Josh and his relatives came out.

  Kevin rushed forward and confronted Josh. “You're Eric's executor, aren't you? He owed me money. You have an obligation to pay his debts.”

  “With what?” Josh asked. “He died bankrupt. This isn't the time or place to discuss it, anyway. Now, get out of our way.”

  Kevin planted himself firmly in Josh's path and crossed his arms.

  “I'm not going anywhere!”

  Chapter 24

  “Suit yourself,” Josh sneered, grabbing Kayla's hand and attempting to walk around Kevin, who moved to the side, blocking their path. I was afraid there was about to be a repeat performance of the altercation Kevin and Eric
had had in the restaurant parking lot, but, once again, the police stepped in. The chief, Lieutenant Belmont, and Sergeant Martinez surrounded Kevin.

  “Go home, or go to jail,” the chief said firmly. “Your choice.”

  “All right; I'm leaving,” Kevin growled. He pointed his finger at Josh. “You haven't seen the last of me. I want my money!” he yelled, as he backed away, then turned, and started off.

  “I don't know what he expects me to do,” Josh complained to Greg. “The estate's bankrupt, but I guess he doesn't believe me.”

  “Forget it, Josh. There's no way to satisfy him. You're doing the best you can.”

  “If the auction of Eric's household goods doesn't go well, there won't even be enough money to pay you back for final expenses,” Josh said ruefully.

  Greg shrugged. “Like I said, don't worry about it. Now, let's get going. We'll see you at the house.”

  Everybody drifted off to their vehicles then, and we formed a procession as we drove to Rebecca and Greg's house for the reception.

  When I arrived at their house, Rebecca was setting out trays of food on her dining room table.

  “Need any help?” I asked.

  “I sure do,” she told me. “Could you bring out everything that's sitting on the kitchen counter?”

  “Right away.” It didn't take us long to put out all the food. Meanwhile, Greg set up drinks in the kitchen, where he served them while Rebecca and I circulated in the living and dining rooms, taking drink orders. I estimated that there were probably about thirty people present. Although Rebecca and Greg's home was larger than mine, that many people were enough to make it crowded. No wonder Rebecca had decided not to announce the reception at the service.

  After everybody had a drink in hand, I returned to the kitchen for an iced tea for myself. Rebecca was brewing another pot of coffee.

  “I didn't make any food for this reception,” she confided. “After the poisonings, I decided the safest bet was to buy it all at the supermarket deli. I don't want anybody thinking I poisoned them, if they go home with a tummy ache.”

  She jumped when a deep voice behind us said, “I wouldn't worry about it, Mrs. Winters. We're satisfied that none of your Pioneers group is responsible for the poisonings.”

  She turned and saw that the assurance had come from the police chief.

  “So, we're in the clear?”

  “Absolutely. We've talked to everybody in the Pioneers who contributed food for your booth, and it's clear that the poisoned carrot bars were left there by an outside party, not one of your members.”

  “That's a relief. I mean, I never thought that one of our own choir members could do such a thing, even by accident, but it did happen at our booth, and I feel bad about that.”

  “It sounds as though you don't think it was an accident,” I commented.

  “I'm afraid not. We're looking at some of the high school students who've been engaged in some dangerous pranks this semester, but I've probably said too much. Please keep that information to yourselves for a day or two while we finish our investigation.”

  We nodded as the chief helped himself to a mug of coffee and doctored it generously with sugar and milk before returning to the living room.

  “Why do you suppose the police came?” Rebecca asked. “It sounds like they're on the way to solving the poisoning cases.”

  “They probably want to cover all the bases,” I guessed. “You never know.”

  “So they want to see who shows up today?”

  “I wouldn't be surprised.”

  “Well, I didn't see any high schoolers at the funeral home, did you?”

  “No, I didn't.”

  “I hope they solve the case soon. To think that Eric may have died because of some stupid prank—”

  We were interrupted then by several people who came into the kitchen for drinks. They helped themselves while Rebecca set out some more chilled bottles of beer, and I returned to the living room.

  Josh, Kayla, and the relatives who'd sat with them in the front row at the memorial service had huddled in one corner, rather than mingling with the guests. Nearby, Greg was explaining his relationship to the deceased to a group of people.

  “He was my second cousin, once removed,” he told them.

  “I call myself cousin whether they're first, second, third, or removed,” one woman noted. “It's easier that way.”

  “You've got that right,” Greg agreed. “I guess that fits all Eric's relatives, except Josh.”

  I looked around and saw Susan and Chip with their heads together and Eric's neighbors, Jack and his wife, heading toward the dining room. Seeing Jack reminded me of the conversation we'd had the day I visited Sylvia Costa. I had a nagging feeling I was forgetting something as I mentally reviewed what Sylvia had told me.

  Then I remembered. I'd thought, at the time, I should tell the police she hadn't gotten along with Eric. Since she was his next-door neighbor, there was a good chance the police had already interviewed her, but I could have kicked myself for not remembering sooner.

  I looked around for Dave Martinez, since I thought he'd be the easiest one to approach about the matter, but I didn't see him. I went back into the kitchen, but he wasn't there, either. A few of the guests had departed, so I assumed Dave had left, too, but Lieutenant Belmont was sitting in a chair in the living room, observing the proceedings. Since I hadn't spotted the chief, either, I'd have to talk to the lieutenant.

  He was juggling a plate piled with food, none of which qualified as part of the heart-healthy diet he was supposed to be following. The lieutenant was a stubborn man, and if he hadn't changed his diet after suffering a major heart attack and undergoing bypass surgery, I figured there wasn't anything I could say to convince him otherwise.

  He must have read my mind, though, because, as I approached him, he put up his right arm as if he were directing me at a traffic stop.

  “Don't say a word. I know what you're thinking,” he grumbled.

  “Oh? What am I thinking?”

  “That I shouldn't be eating this stuff.”

  “Hmm.”

  “No comment? That's a first.”

  “Would you change your mind if I did comment?”

  He snorted. “Not hardly.”

  “Well, then . . . . I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.” I grabbed a folding chair and moved it closer to the lieutenant.

  “I suppose you think you're onto the killer.”

  “No,” I said, ignoring his sarcastic tone, “but I was talking to one of Eric's neighbors the other day, and she said something that I thought you should know about.”

  “All Mr. Thompson's neighbors have been interviewed, Mrs. Trent.”

  I shared my information, anyway.

  “Sylvia Costa told you that she and Eric didn't get along? Lots of people don't get along with their neighbors, Mrs. Trent, but that doesn't mean they poison them.”

  He popped a pig-in-a-blanket into his mouth and practically swallowed it whole. Appalled, I watched as he stuffed in a couple more. If the lieutenant wasn't careful, he could very easily choke, but he appeared unconcerned as he chomped down two brownies in quick succession. Before I knew it, he'd eaten everything on his plate and had returned to the dining room for seconds or maybe it was thirds, for all I knew.

  I stood and returned the folding chair to its previous position. Even though the lieutenant had made light of my information, I knew he'd look into it, but, of course, he never wanted to let on that he might take me seriously.

  I really doubted that Sylvia had had anything to do with the poisonings. Despite the fact that she had knowledge of hemlock and even knew where to find it, and she was an accomplished baker, I simply couldn't picture her cooking up such a dicey scheme that involved slipping poisoned carrot bars into the Pioneers' booth, knowing that chances were slim that Eric would ever eat them and, at the same time, knowing that other people she had no grudge against would buy them. Anyone who would do that was
surely a very sick or very evil person, and Sylvia didn't strike me as either.

  I noticed that a few more people had said their goodbyes, and I thought it was time for me to be on my way, too. Laddie and Mona Lisa would be eagerly awaiting my arrival home, or, at least, Laddie would. I never knew about my mercurial calico cat.

  I made the rounds, bidding the people I knew goodbye and offering condolences again to Josh. Susan and Chip were standing next to the front door, so I stopped for a word with them on my way out.

  Chip, who normally would have made a point of flirting with me, acted very subdued.

  “This is the first funeral I've ever attended,” he confided. “Major bummer.”

  I wouldn't have put it that way myself, but sometimes I forgot how young Chip was, no older than my son Dustin. Certainly, Chip was a grownup, but he was so youthful that perhaps it wasn't too surprising that he had never attended a funeral before today.

  Susan pulled me aside. “He's really down,” she said.

  “Yes, it's a sad occasion.”

  “I know, but he's talking about skipping the Roadrunner's Christmas party tomorrow evening.”

  “Party?”

  I couldn't believe it, but I'd completely forgotten about the gallery's party. I'd been looking forward to spending Sunday at home, hanging out with my pets. Somehow, I just wasn't in the mood for a Christmas party.

  Chapter 25

  It was beginning to dawn on me that I'd been more than a little forgetful lately. I hadn't remembered to tell the police about Sylvia Costa's feud with Eric until seeing her neighbor, Jack, had jogged my memory, and the Roadrunner's Christmas party hadn't been on my radar, either, until Susan mentioned it.

  Although I was aware that my financial woes had been weighing on my mind, I hadn't realized how much. I'd have to make a concerted effort to press on with my art career, despite the fact that December was shaping up to be a disappointing month sales-wise.

  I reminded myself that my family would soon be with me to celebrate Christmas and that Brian would be home before New Year's Eve. I didn't want my concern over money to put a damper on our holidays.