Sid Ford found Celia, Allie, and Aggie in the waiting room when he arrived at the hospital. He was just trying to get an update on Stan when a doctor dressed in scrubs came through the double doors and found them.
“Mrs. Shepherd?” he asked, and Celia sprang to her feet.
“How is he?”
“Still critical. But I wanted to let you know that we have been able to confirm that your husband’s been poisoned with arsenic.”
“Arsenic?” Aunt Aggie’s reaction resounded in the big waiting room, and the handful of others waiting to be treated turned to look. “You tellin’ me this is arsenic? Celia!”
Stunned, Sid watched Celia sink back into her chair and cover her face with both hands.
“What about Celia?” Allie asked the doctor. “Was she poisoned?”
Sid looked up at the doctor, waiting for the crucial answer.
“No, she wasn’t. We didn’t find any traces of arsenic in her blood or urine. Just in his.”
“Then look again,” Aunt Aggie insisted. “She been throwin’ up. Don’t take a genius.”
“We’re running some other tests on her, but the lab isn’t very well staffed at night, and they’re concentrating on Stan right now.”
“Yes,” Celia blurted. “That’s what they should do. You can save him, now that you know, can’t you? There’s got to be an antidote…”
“We’re giving him dimercaprol to bind the arsenic, and we’re treating him for dehydration, shock—”
“Shock?” Sid cut in.
The doctor looked back at Sid over his shoulder, seeing him for the first time.
“His body’s been traumatized,” the doctor explained. “We’re also treating him for fluid on the lungs, and we’re watching his kidneys because arsenic will sometimes cause kidney failure. It’s too early to tell. We may have to put him on dialysis before it’s over. There’s also a danger of liver damage, but we’re monitoring that, as well.”
“Doctor, is he going to die?”
Sid held his breath, waiting for the verdict on everyone’s mind.
“We’re doing everything we can, Mrs. Shepherd.”
It wasn’t the answer Sid had hoped for, and his heart plummeted. The idea that his friend could die was too much to bear. He choked back the emotion in his throat as the doctor left them. Arsenic. Stan had been poisoned. As the truth sank into his heart, he understood that the case had just changed from personal illness to attempted homicide.
Someone had tried to murder Stan Shepherd.
He turned his eyes back to Celia and watched her lean back against the wall. Aggie seemed to be in shock since hearing that it was arsenic, and now she stared at Celia with eyes that said there was more to this than Sid knew.
A million questions rushed into his mind, but one seemed to flash urgently in neon colors, demanding an instant answer. How had Celia known? Sid stooped in front of Celia. His voice trembled. “Celia, I need to ask you a few questions. And I need you to be honest with me.”
There was a certain resignation in her expression, an expectation that disturbed him.
“Celia, how did you know he was poisoned with arsenic?”
“I didn’t know.” She wiped her tears and squeezed her eyes shut. “Not for sure. But I’ve seen this before. All the symptoms…”
“That’s what you said.” He tried to keep his voice gentle, realizing it wouldn’t pay to put her on the defensive. But his heart was pounding, and his breath was rapid. “When, Celia? When have you seen someone else poisoned with arsenic?”
Celia’s mouth twisted as she tried to hold back her tears. She averted her eyes, unable to look at him.
Allie was sitting on one side of her, stroking Celia’s hair, waiting for a response that made some sense, but even she seemed to be struck by Celia’s struggle. Aunt Aggie, on the other side of Celia, looked as miserable, as expectant, as her niece.
“Tell him, sha.” Her voice broke on the Cajun endearment that bore little resemblance to its French root, chere. “He gon’ find out anyway.”
Celia covered her face with both hands and sat frozen for a moment. Sid waited, holding his breath, trying to imagine what it was she had to tell him. It took more physical effort to wait, motionless, than it would have to throw her across the room. The force of his will prevailed.
Slowly, she slid her hands down her face, swallowed back her tears, and looked Sid in the eye. “I was married before,” she said. Her lips quivered as she got the words out. “My first husband died…of arsenic poisoning.”
Sid’s face went slack as he stared at her, and Allie caught her breath. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, but somehow he managed to find his voice. “Who poisoned your first husband?” he asked finally.
She closed her eyes again, and Aunt Aggie’s face got tighter. Allie seemed to wait for a pat answer that Sid suspected would not come. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he prodded. “They never arrested nobody? They never had a suspect?”
“No,” Aunt Aggie interjected. “Now, leave her alone. She upset. Can’t you see?”
Sid forgot his resolution to speak gently. Through his teeth, he said, “Aunt Aggie, there’s been a murder attempt on a Newpointe police officer. I wanna know who did it, and I wanna know as soon as possible. Now if this is connected to the first murder, I need to know everything. I either have to ask her here, or at the station. Which do you want, Celia?”
“I’m callin’ a lawyer,” Aunt Aggie said, getting to her feet. “I’m callin’ Jill Clark.”
Sid looked up at her, frowning. “Why would she need a lawyer?”
“Because I see where this is goin’, and she—”
Celia grabbed Aggie’s hand to stop her. “Aunt Aggie, I can handle this!” She turned her big, pale blue eyes back to Sid. “There was one suspect,” she said as her face reddened. “And one arrest.”
“And was there a conviction?” Sid asked.
“No. The suspect didn’t do it. It was all a mistake. There was never a conviction.”
“Mistakes don’t repeat theirselves like this, Celia.” Sid’s tone was growing louder. “Who was it? Maybe they’re at it again.”
“Apparently they are!” she cried, getting to her feet and moving away from him. Crossing her arms across her stomach, she sucked in another sob. “But not the person who was tried for it. Maybe the person who really did it, but since the police stopped looking and never found the real killer, we never knew…”
Sid was losing his patience. He stood up and faced her. “Celia, who was tried for killing your husband?”
She turned away from him. There was a moment of silence as he stared at her back, fighting the urge to shake her until the truth spilled out. “Celia, I’m askin’ you a question. I need a answer!”
She spun back around. “Me, okay?” she yelled. “I was the suspect! But I…didn’t…do it…”
Sid felt as if he’d been poled in the stomach.
“What?” Incredulous, Allie got to her feet. “You were?”
Aunt Aggie put her arms around Celia and sat her back down. “She didn’t do nothin’, Sid,” she said. “Stan knew, ’fore he married her. Celia was a victim, and they pinned her with the crime. The killer was never caught, and now it happened again.”
Sid stood frozen, letting the words sink in.
“Celia,” Allie said in a disbelieving whisper. “Why didn’t you tell me? When Mark was in the hospital, you told me about your first husband, that he’d been sick and died, but you never said—”
“Why would I want people to know that I was arrested for my husband’s murder?” Celia asked through her teeth. “When I came to Newpointe, I half expected everyone to know. The news coverage in Jackson seemed so overwhelming that I thought everyone in the world knew. But no one knew in Newpointe, and it was so good to get away from all that. Stan was the only person I told, besides Aunt Aggie, and he loved me anyway.” Allie looked away, focusing on a spot on the wall. Sid kept his eyes fixed on Celia. “Allie, look at me. Sid?”
They both met her eyes.
“You know I couldn’t do something like that,” she said. “I love Stan. And I loved Nathan. I thought I’d never get over it. And then I was thrown in jail…” Her face grew more crimson with each word, and she began to sob, but she managed to spill all the words out on a rush. “…and they wouldn’t let me out on bond, so I was in jail for months and months…and my parents believed the lies and turned their backs on me…and the press wrote scathing articles about me…and I wanted to die more than anything in the world.”
“But she didn’t die,” Aunt Aggie said angrily, lifting her chin high. “They let her off, and she come here to live with me. You know her, Allie, and you know what kind of person she is. You do, too, Sid. You know, don’t you?”
Sid was shaking his head, expressionless, almost paralyzed by what she’d told him. His eyes were stinging, whether from grief over his poisoned friend’s plight, or mourning over what he was learning about Celia, he wasn’t sure. Was this news grounds for an arrest? If Celia wasn’t his friend, would he have already read her her rights?
“Just listen,” she pleaded, as if she could read the thoughts reeling through his mind. “I just want to be with Stan. I just want to make sure he’s okay…Whatever you have to do, do it later, okay? You can wait. I’ll tell you everything that happened, even get you a transcript of the depositions and the trial, whatever you want. Just let me stay here with Stan. I need to be here with him.”
Sid suddenly felt very old, like one of those Van Gogh portraits of wizened age and weariness. Maybe he’d been at this job way too long. He wished he could talk to Stan and ask what he would have done if the shoe had been on the other foot. The thought of arresting Celia seemed almost as painful as the knowledge that Stan could die. If he woke up, the arrest itself might kill him.
He tried to run the facts through his mind. Arrests were made on the basis of current evidence, not past history. He didn’t know yet what the evidence was, since they hadn’t considered the Shepherds’ house a crime scene.
Still, she needed to be questioned, not in a hospital waiting room, but at the police station where accurate records could be kept of what she said—where other law enforcement personnel who were thinking clearly could interrogate her.
“Celia, I need to take you back to Newpointe. We’re gonna need to question you further.”
“No!” she cried. “No, Sid, please. I have to know if he’s all right! Please! You know I didn’t do this!”
“Celia, let’s do this easy,” he said, trying to keep his voice low, despite the fact that others in the waiting room watched attentively for the gossip to take back home, and the nurse stood at the receptionist’s desk, staring as if she watched some historical event unfold: Where were you the day Celia Shepherd was hauled in? Celia closed her hand over her mouth, half hiding, half muffling her sobs, and he hoped she wouldn’t make this harder for him.
Finally, she got to her feet. Wiping her eyes with a trembling hand, she turned back to Allie. “Call his parents,” she said. “They need to be here. Somebody might have to give consent for treatment.” Her voice broke on a sob. “Tell them I’ll be back as soon as they’re finished with me. And…if he wakes up…tell him I love him.” Aunt Aggie wrapped her arms around her, and huddled together, they headed outside.
As the car pulled off, Celia wailed in the backseat like a mother being separated from her young. He looked out the window and saw Allie standing at the emergency room door, staring at them, shocked, as they drove away.