Murder by Yew, Page 4

  “Take the angelica over there.” Breaking into Edna’s thoughts, Dee pointed a long, bright-red fingernail at a clump of tall stalks with dark green leaves, partially shaded by an indigo bush in the far southeast corner of the garden. Uncrossing her legs, she rose and began to stroll along the bricks.

  “I understand you can make quite a nice tea from the root.” Edna followed. The comment was meant to provoke a response. She wanted to know just how much Dee really knew about these plants.

  Her guest looked at her with narrowed eyes. “You’re not thinking of brewing such a thing, are you?” The intensity of the question startled Edna.

  “Well …” she stammered. She hadn’t tried it as yet, but she knew a tea from the angelica could soothe indigestion.

  “Don’t you know it was used in olden days to cause miscarriages?”

  “I know yew tea was.” Edna felt her cheeks flush. She hadn’t known angelica had similar properties to the evergreen out front. She made a mental note to read more than just Mrs. Rabichek’s journals before making any exotic concoctions.

  “Either one could be used,” Dee said with obvious impatience. Turning and walking away so suddenly that Edna almost missed it, Dee added, “Both are also deadly if made too strong.”

  The comment reminded Edna of a similar conversation she’d had with Mary that morning about the difficulty in controlling the strength of natural remedies. She caught up with Dee at the intersection of the paths, trying to think of something less controversial to say when Dee bent over the succulent in a nearby round clay pot.

  “Aloe is wonderful for cuts and burns. Did you know that?”

  “Really.” Edna was purposely noncommittal. Then, not wanting to seem too unschooled in the subject, she said, “I’ve heard it takes the sting out of sunburn.” Her words made her aware of how hot it was out here in the sun.

  “Aloe’s also a fairly strong laxative.” Dee’s remark brought Edna back to their conversation.

  “I believe I did read that in Hazel’s book.” Edna remembered reading about one of the plants causing violent purging, if swallowed, but she wasn’t certain it had been the aloe. She wasn’t about to admit that to Dee, however.

  “And the lily-of-the-valley …” Setting off another metallic jangle of bracelets, Dee waved a hand toward the yellowish green leaves covering a two-foot-wide strip against the house to the east of the bench. “Doesn’t it make you wonder at people who chose something that poisonous to put in bridal bouquets?”

  She looked expectantly at Edna, who did know just how toxic the pretty little flowers were. Silently, Edna disagreed with Dee’s observation. Using the dainty, bell-like blossoms for decoration was certainly not the same as eating them. She was looking forward to seeing them bloom in the spring.

  Wondering if Dee were trying to shock her or repel her by noting all the negative qualities of the plants, Edna was about to remark on the symmetry of the garden’s design, when Dee turned abruptly to survey what lay around them. Her tone grew friendlier, less challenging, when she said, “You have great material here for a Greenthumbs talk.”

  Hesitating for only a second or two, Edna said, “Naturally, I have considered it.” Hoping to draw Dee out on what she herself might be planning for a presentation, added, “It sounds like you’d be much better than I. Where did you learn so much about plants and herbs?”

  “My mother.”

  The answer was quick and dismissive, but Edna prodded. “Oh? She must be quite a gardener.”

  “Was,” Dee said. “She died a long time ago.” Slipping her hand into a pocket of her skirt, she pulled out a dainty, white handkerchief and dabbed her neck. “It’s very warm today. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

  “Of course.” Edna was relieved not only to get out of the hot sun but to change the subject, as well. Her confidence in developing a winning presentation for next month had suffered a serious setback. She was almost certain Dee would now talk on the same topic.

  The more she thought about it, the more her suspicions grew as she led the way across the flagstone patio and ushered her guest into the mudroom. The room where Edna did much of her potting held a large oak table along the far wall. Nearer the door to the rest of the house stood a deep utility sink, and beyond that were built-in shelves containing myriad clay pots and bags of soil and peat moss. She preceded Dee through the room and into the kitchen.

  “What a nice, sunny place.” Dee twirled around in the center of the expansive area.

  Edna was proud of the country kitchen look she’d accomplished with the use of yellow and blue curtains, pine furniture, and numerous cane baskets. The walls and cupboards were painted white, reflecting natural light that came in through a large window above the sink. The discomfort Edna had been feeling about her guest eased a little.

  “Would you rather have a glass of iced tea?” Opening the refrigerator, Edna noticed that Tom had finished off most of the contents of the canning jar. She was relieved when Dee declined, saying water would be fine.

  Her thirst quenched, Dee perched on the edge of a ladder back chair and, clutching her hands in her lap, hesitated a moment before asking, “Could I see the rest of the house? This room is so pretty, I’d really love to see what else you’ve done.”

  Standing by the sink, sipping her own glass of water, Edna was warmed by the compliment, thinking again what a mix of emotions this woman stirred in her. She glanced at her watch. “Yes, I can give you a quick tour.” By the time she’d set her glass in the sink, Dee was already out the door and into the front hallway. When Edna caught up with her, Dee was studying a small table.

  “What lovely grain in this walnut,” she said, running a hand along one edge.

  “Thank you. It was a favorite of my mother’s. I remember it beside the chaise lounge in her bedroom.”

  “Must be a nice memory,” Dee said, the smile not reaching her eyes. Turning back to the furniture, she added, “This is a particularly nice tea table. It looks to me like eighteenth century.”

  “Why, yes, it is.” Edna thought Dee was going to prove as knowledgeable about antiques as she was about plants. “Why don’t I show you the living room?”

  Before leaving the hall, however, Dee poked at her shoulder-length curls in front of the gilded mirror hanging just above the little table. Standing behind her guest, Edna was surprised to realize that Dee was examining the scrollwork on the mirror’s frame and not her blonde locks.

  She’d supposed Dee to be vainer, and again Edna found she was adjusting her opinion of this unusual woman. Obviously, there was more to Dee Tolkheim than met the eye. When she realized her guest was watching her in the mirror, Edna hurried to break a lengthening silence.

  “That mirror belonged to my husband’s great-great-great grandfather who was captain of a whaling vessel out of New Bedford,” she said and turned down the short hallway.

  “It must be nice to know so much of the history of your family,” Dee replied, following. In the living room she moved to sit on a mahogany sofa, upholstered in gold brocade, and ran a bejeweled hand over the fabric. “Another fine piece of furniture. Yours or your husband’s family?” She smiled as she raised an eyebrow.

  Edna chuckled, pleased that Dee recognized what was another family heirloom. She found herself becoming more delighted than annoyed with the woman. “That sofa always takes me back to my grandmother’s parlor. That’s what’s nice about having things handed down in one’s family, the stories and memories that go with them.” Edna grew uncomfortable, realizing she was babbling on about her family to a stranger. She wanted to know more about Dee. “You must have wonderful accounts of your own.” She made it sound like a question, hoping to draw the woman out.

  Dee’s laugh sounded like the tinkling of tiny wind chimes. “Hardly. I grew up with what has been referred to as early Salvation Army.”

  Her guest’s frankness made Edna squirm inwardly, as though she’d been flaunting her wealth. At the same time, she remembere
d that it had been Dee who’d led the conversation down this particular path. Besides, according to Tuck, Dee was now a very rich woman.

  As if again reading Edna’s mind, the sides of Dee’s mouth twitched. “My fortunes certainly have changed.”

  Edna began to think Dee was purposely trying to unsettle her. She used the opportunity to encourage Dee to talk some more about herself. “What was your home like—the one you grew up in?”

  Dee laughed again, more like breaking glass than twinkling chimes this time. “Oh, Honey, it was nothing like this.” She looked down at her hand stroking the brocade. “Definitely not like this at all.”

  Edna felt her face grow hot at the term “Honey.” She didn’t consider herself a snob, but she couldn’t help the reaction. Dee’s tone and manner had been more like those of a store clerk than a wealthy socialite. Hiding her discomfort, Edna tried to refocus the conversation. “We’ve driven by your house at the shore, my husband and I. It’s lovely.”

  Dee’s brow furrowed. “My late husband’s house. It’s not the same as having my own history.”

  “Are you from around here?”

  “I’ve lived in many places. My two sons are in California.”

  With a vague feeling that Dee kept slipping out of her grasp like a wet goldfish, Edna tried a less direct approach to learning more about her. “Sons.” She didn’t need to force the enthusiasm into the word as she thought of her own two boys, actually grown men now. Momentarily forgetting how old Dee really was, she assumed her children must be teenagers. “Will they be joining you here?”

  “Oh, no.” Dee smoothed her skirt across her lap. “They’re both tied to their jobs. We don’t see much of each other. When I married Les, my th … my second husband, the boys stayed in Los Angeles with their father.” She smiled at Edna. “Les was in the oil business with a place down in Texas. The boys didn’t want to leave their little school friends. They preferred to stay with their daddy instead of moving to Houston with me.”

  Edna hoped her shock didn’t show. She couldn’t imagine ever leaving her children, but if such a dreadful occurrence had been necessary, she didn’t think she’d be talking so casually about it. Now she was even more curious. How many times had this woman been married? There was, apparently, the boys’ father and the oil magnate. Had there been others? Which husband had Joel Tolkheim been?

  Before Edna could think too much more about it, Dee rose from the couch. Crossing the room, she stopped and reached out to rest a hand on Edna’s arm. “We need to stick together, Edna. As outsiders in this community, we need to support each other, don’t you think?”

  Having no idea what had brought on this spurt of sentimentality, Edna pushed up from her own chair. “Why don’t I show you upstairs?” She wasn’t ready to become Dee’s close friend and confidante.

  In the master bedroom, Dee moved at once to an oak dresser and picked up a wedding picture, a black-and-white photo of Edna and Albert smiling at the photographer as they’d come out of the church. Edna wore a wide, flowing gown of net and white satin; Albert was in a tux and top hat.

  “Where’s your husband?” Still holding the picture, Dee turned to Edna.

  “Chicago. He left this morning for a weekend conference.”

  “You didn’t go with him?” She raised her finely-shaped eyebrows.

  “No.” Edna hesitated. She didn’t think her fear of flying was any of this woman’s business. “There would have been nothing for me to do. I would probably have seen him only at night.” Apparently, her words didn’t sound as lame to Dee as they did to her.

  “That’s the dangerous time, the time when you should be with him. He’ll be looking for companionship.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Edna felt her face redden at the implication.

  Dee shrugged. “Men that age, retirement age, have a roving eye.”

  “Not Albert.”

  “Any man. Please forgive me for saying that you’re being naïve if you think otherwise.”

  “I trust Albert implicitly.” Edna bristled, then felt more pity than anger at this beautiful woman who’d apparently lost more than one husband. How many had died? Thinking of Joel Tolkheim, the question flew unbidden into Edna’s head just as Dee spoke again.

  “So, you think he’ll be back on Sunday?” Before Edna could answer, Dee looked down at the photo. “You were a very pretty bride. Was your hair auburn?”

  The quick change of subject, along with the unexpected compliment, disconcerted Edna. “Why, yes.”

  “Have you thought of going back to that color? The gray is attractive, but I bet your husband would feel younger if you looked like the girl he once married. If he’s watching you,” she added with a wink, “you don’t need to watch him.” Lowering her voice, she added, “There are a lot of lonely widows out there.”

  “I really don’t think …” Edna started to protest.

  Dee lifted her wrist and looked at a slender gold watch, nestled among at least five gold and silver bracelets. “Goodness, look at the time.” She set the wedding picture back on the bureau. “I really must be going.”

  In silence, Edna followed Dee out to her car. Nobody had ever spoken to her quite as frankly as this impetuous woman. She thought again of how Tom had looked at Dee, the admiration in his eyes.

  Edna’s visitor settled into the white leather driver’s seat and started the engine. “Thanks for the tour,” she called out the window as the car started down the broken shell driveway.

  Watching the convertible disappear, Edna couldn’t decide whether she liked or disliked Dee Tolkheim. Walking back through the kitchen garden, she noticed the clump of rue lying on the wooden bench. Not surprised, she thought, that wasn’t really why Dee came by today.

  Four

  In the house, Edna grabbed a sketch pad and pencil and put her hat on before going out to the herb garden again. She found Benjamin stretched out on the wooden bench enjoying the sun, and she smiled at the picture of perfect contentment. Strolling up and down the paths, she began to consider the presentation she’d be giving in less than a month, but her mind kept wandering over the morning’s events. What a strange day it had been so far, and it was barely lunchtime.

  First, there had been the disturbing arrest of Aleda Sharp across the street. The image of her neighbor’s bowed head in the back of the police cruiser haunted Edna still. And how had Mary known the officers were on their way? She had her father’s radio scanner, Edna remembered, from when he had been a volunteer fireman. That must have been at least thirty-five or forty years ago, Edna marveled, then wondered how Mary knew the private detective she had recommended to Tom.

  A smile came to Edna’s lips as she thought about Tom and his excitement over finding his long-ago buddy. She almost laughed aloud thinking of Tom’s absurdly flirtatious behavior towards her. How fun to be teased by someone other than Albert. The thought reminded her of Dee’s blatant performance, and Edna frowned. What had been the woman’s purpose in stopping by this morning? Was the position in the garden club so important that Dee felt she must scout out the competition?

  Edna thought of the comment Dee had made about being new to the community and that they must stick together. She herself wished to feel welcomed by her neighbors and wondered if the desire in Dee was that much stronger. Acceptance into the elite garden club would certainly be a big step in that direction.

  Before she could consider the possibility further, Edna was startled by a blur of orange fur flying past her and streaking toward the stone wall that bordered the Davies’ property. Turning to see what had frightened her cat, she spotted Norm Wilkins walking toward her. A ball of fire grew in her chest as she watched him approach.

  Albert thought she had been exaggerating when she complained about Norm’s rudeness towards her, because the man was always so polite and deferential to her husband. The few times she’d had to deal with Norm alone, she’d gotten the feeling she was of no more significance than a gnat, something to be
swatted if she got in the man’s way. Norm both frightened and disgusted her.

  Whatever brought him here must be critical to get him out of his chair. The owner of Honeydew Home Repairs was not known to exert himself, preferring to spend his days bossing others around from behind a desk.

  “Where’s Tom?” he growled at her without preamble, not bothering to remove the toothpick from his mouth when he spoke.

  “I have no idea.” She put a hand on the crown of her wide-brimmed straw hat and glared up at him, determined not to let the man know how much he intimidated her.

  At six-foot-three, Norm was as tall as Tom but weighed about seventy pounds more, a good deal of which hung over his belt buckle. Tom had laughingly confided to Edna once, “The only thing my cousin likes almost as much as money is beer.” Norm’s body, clad in faded blue jeans and a wrinkled, white, button-down shirt, swayed from side to side as he walked, and he leaned slightly backward as if to offset the pull of gravity on his stomach.

  “Hah! I knew I’d catch him at it.” His eyes, small and close-set, glinted in triumph.

  “Catch him at what?” She tried to keep both the quiver and the disgust from her voice. Norm might own the company, but Tom was the one who did most of the work. According to the rumors around town, Norm wouldn’t have a company if it weren’t for Tom.

  “Told me he was working here today.” Norm grinned, repositioning the toothpick to the corner of his mouth. “Knowed he’s been lying to me.”

  “He came by earlier this morning to hang a screen.”

  “He say where he was off to after that?”

  “No,” she said curtly. “If you need to get hold of him, why don’t you just call?”

  “Did. Weren’t no answer at his place.” After a slight pause, he added, “Weren’t no answer here neither.”

  Edna chose to overlook what sounded like an insinuation. “Doesn’t he have a cell phone?”