Chapter 37

 

“Y’all should’ve been there,” Connie Sue said as she poured herself a glass of pinot grigio. “It was a sight for sore eyes.”

“You can say that again.” Gloria’s bangle bracelets jingled as she spread hummus on a wheat cracker. “EMTs, sheriff’s department, firefighters. It caused quite a commotion.”

“Bees must’ve covered every square inch of Kate’s Buick.” Polly’s faded blue eyes twinkled behind her trifocals. “Then these cute guys, all gussied up in baggy white suits and hats with veils, came and waved smokers to quiet the bees.”

Rita wore a look of smug satisfaction. “Fireman had to hose down the car before Sheriff Wiggins could haul Sheila out and read her her rights.”

For the time being, I was content to sit back and listen to my friends’ chatter. The Babes were gathered in Janine’s kitchen waiting for a couple stragglers to arrive so bunco could begin. Somehow I had the feeling we’d spend more of the evening talking than rolling the bones. But that was okay. Recent events would be the chief topic of gossip and speculation around Serenity Cove for weeks to come.

“Did Dr. Sheila ever confess to poisoning Dr. Bascomb?” Megan asked, wide-eyed.

Feeling myself the center of attention, I paused in the act of dredging a taco chip through salsa. “Not yet, but Sheriff Wiggins said it’s only a matter of time. He thinks Sheila’s hoping for a plea bargain.”

“Well, at least they have her cold for what she tried to do to you,” Pam said. “Attempted murder isn’t a charge to be taken lightly.”

“Mmm.” I munched on my chip. The salsa was spicy exactly the way I like it, but not enough that I’d need an antacid. “With the new information the toxicology lab faxed over this morning, I think the sheriff’s planning to amend the charge to first-degree murder. Sheila’s plea bargain might amount to no more than taking the death penalty off the table.”

“New information?” Monica looked at me sharply. “What new information?”

Smiling serenely, I helped myself to more chips and salsa. “The lab confirmed Vaughn’s death was due to grayanotoxin, just as Sheila claimed.”

“Grayanotoxin?” Monica frowned, obviously unhappy there was a subject on which she wasn’t well-versed. “Never heard of it.”

“Azaleas,” I replied succinctly.

It took a few moments for this to sink in.

“Azaleas.” Janine shook her head in wonderment. “Who would have guessed?”

“I did some research online after Kate called this morning,” Diane said. “Azaleas produce bacteria that can mimic food poisoning.”

“Stomach irritation, abnormal heart rhythm, seizures, coma, and even death,” Janine enumerated the symptoms, her RN background rising to the fore.

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“The honey Sheila added to Vaughn’s tea was made from the nectar of azaleas, or rhododendrons, and is known as ‘mad honey,’” Diane explained.

Gloria hoisted herself onto one of the stools bordering the breakfast bar. “What I don’t understand is why it took so long for the toxicology results.”

“Real life isn’t like TV,” Pam, my crime-show buddy, lectured. “As much as I love CSI and Law & Order, in reality most crimes aren’t solved in a day, much less an hour like on TV.”

“More like forty-five minutes.” Polly nodded sagely. “Gotta have commercials.”

“I asked Sheriff Wiggins the same question, Pam,” I said. “Once poisoning is suspected as COD—cause of death for the less well informed among you—he told me the lab rules out common sources first. Arsenic, cyanide, strychnine, benzene, bromide—you know, the usual suspects.” I rattled off the list, trying to impress the Babes with my wisdom and expertise. “You have to give the lab credit for finding the true culprit. There are many lesser-known toxins out there, and finding the right one must’ve been like looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.”

“Hey, y’all.” Tammy Lynn burst into Janine’s kitchen, looking flushed and happy. “Sorry I’m late, but Eric wanted to drop me off.”

Well, well, well. Seems like our little Cinderella has found her Prince Charming. Tammy Lynn was decked out in a short, flirty skirt, scoop-necked red sweater, and heels. Heels, mind you, not sneakers or scuffed loafers. Who could have guessed the girl possessed a pair of Betty Grable legs beneath all the frumpy polyester?

“I heard y’all talkin’ about the lab report,” she went on. “Sheriff Wiggins said the technique for this specific test is labor-intensive and requires an experienced forensics toxicologist. To complicate matters, the person most qualified to run this test had been away on family leave.”

“But at the banquet Sheila became ill and had to be rushed to the hospital, too. Are you implying she poisoned herself?” Pam asked.

I started to take another chip but changed my mind. All this talk of poisoning was affecting my appetite. “Sheila administered a small amount of the ‘mad honey’ to herself. Just enough to divert suspicion away from herself.”

“And it worked like a charm. Should’ve known she’d do something like that.” Rita clucked her tongue with disgust. “All the while everyone was thinking poor, poor pitiful Sheila.”

“What would make a person do something like this?” asked sweet, naïve Megan.

“Money, sugar,” Connie Sue drawled. “Oodles and oodles of money.”

Tammy Lynn bypassed the wine in favor of a diet soda. “Sheriff Wiggins confirmed Belle Beaute agreed to pay Sheila Rappaport a small fortune for somethin’ to do with a plant.”

“Sea buckthorn,” I supplied. “Seems as though it shows great promise for skin-care products. Unfortunately Kel Watson made the same discovery, but made the mistake of confiding in Sheila Rappaport. He unwittingly sought the advice of a fellow botanist—and we all know how that turned out.”

“Sheila’s not the sharing type,” Rita said. “Not even in college. No way she’d share a humungous sum if she could keep it all to herself. Evidently Vaughn was expendable.”

“Don’t tell the sheriff I’m blabbin’”—Tammy Lynn lowered her voice—“but the pharmacist at the drugstore is willin’ to testify Sheila picked up Dr. Bascomb’s heart medicine. He said her knowin’ how he had a pre-existin’ condition and all will add weight to the case against her.”

Pam looked at me fondly. “If it wasn’t for Kate, Sheila might’ve gotten away with murder.”

And I’d nearly lost my life in the process. We were all silent for a moment, our thoughts probably traveling on the same track.

“We’re much too serious,” I said, striving to lighten the mood. “Now, for some good news. Betsy Dalton called to thank me personally. Belle Beaute is so pleased we uncovered Sheila’s duplicity, they want to send each of us a year’s supply of their products.”

Firmer, smoother skin. Fewer lines. Diminished wrinkles. Revitalize, rejuvenate, regenerate, recharge, restore, reenergize. Buzz words flew through the air thicker than lovebugs in mating season. And, ladies, anyone who’s ever driven through Florida in October knows what I’m talking about.

“Where in the world is Claudia?” Connie Sue asked when the chatter died down. “She said she’d be late, but it’s headin’ toward ridiculous.”

Janine craned her head and peered toward the foyer. “Speak of the devil . . .”

“Yoo-hoo, everyone.” Claudia waved as she entered.

Polly gave her the once-over. “Don’t you look spiffy.”

“‘Spiffy’ was indeed the adjective of choice to describe her stylish black cocktail suit with its slim skirt and fitted jacket. Claudia did a mean pirouette and, grinning ear to ear, waggled her left hand for all to see.

The sight of a huge, sparkly diamond solitaire—had to be at least two carats—was greeted with squeals of delight. Fine detective I was. Claudia’s engagement shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She had a certain twinkle in her eyes, a certain bounce to her step these days. And Claudia tended to be impulsive—no, spontaneous was perhaps a better word—when it came to relationships with the opposite sex.

“I know that in view of my recent fiasco I vowed to swear off men for life,” she confessed as the Babes clustered around for a closer look, “but BJ is such a charmer I couldn’t resist. Neither of us is getting any younger, and we don’t want to spend our golden years alone. And”—she paused for effect—“I’m asking all of you to be my bridesmaids.”

Bunco was definitely on the back burner. We laughed. We cried. We toasted. A killer’d been caught, freebies granted, and a fellow Babe engaged. I sighed with contentment. It all added up to a wonderful evening.

“Ladies!” Janine clapped her hands to get our attention. “Let’s play at least one round of bunco to commemorate the occasion.”

As we made our way toward the tables, Claudia whispered in my ear, “BJ wasn’t the only one shopping at the jewelry store. He recognized a certain blue-eyed tool guy hovering over the ring counter.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Bill . . . ?”

Claudia winked.

I glanced down at my left hand, which was bereft of jewelry. I didn’t need a sparkly diamond on my ring finger to know I loved Bill—a sweet, gentle man with the soul of a warrior. And with all my faults, I know he loved me right back. No need to rush things. What was it some philosopher once said? It came back to me as I took my seat at the table next to Connie Sue and rolled the dice.

Life is about the journey, not the destination.