| |
Michaela loved the way the cut glass wine glass felt in her hands. Sharp, edgy and cool. She sat on the silk upholstered chair opposite Dottie and listened to her story. While Mic may have appeared calm on the outside, her insides were being eaten alive by dread and terror. Where would these perps strike? The possibilities terrified her. Richmond had gotten so big and every Saturday in May was full of special events. The possibilities were endless. She needed to talk with Slade and the FBI. She believed they would take a serious hit in just a matter of a few days. It was pretty coincidental that Madame Toulescent corroborated what the FBI suspected.
"Michaela, honestly, are you listening to me? Did you understand what I said?" Dottie asked in an irritable voice. Mic did not respond and Dottie spoke loudly and asked, “MIC, ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?"
Michaela was startled and turned her attention back to Dottie and said, "Oh, Dottie. I'm sorry. My mind had wandered with the possibility of a large attack. So far, we've just been thinking about restaurants and fast food joints. It terrifies me they can hit most anywhere." A dark shadow passed over Mic’s face and her green eyes clouded with fear.
"Yes, of course they can, you ninny," Dottie snapped. "But I'm worried about the direct threat to you. That’s first and foremost on my mind."
Mic looked surprised. "Threat, what direct threat to me? What are you talking about, Dottie?"
Dottie sighed and rolled her eyes. "Have you been listening to me at all? Madame Toulescent said you’re in grave danger. She said you had to be very careful."
Michaela smiled and said, "I'm not too worried about that, I'll be okay. I'm a lot more concerned about where these terrorists are going to poison hundreds and potentially thousands of people."
Dottie jumped out of her chair and said, "Dammit, Michaela! You may not be worried about you, but I am. Without you there is no us. Don't you get that?"
Mic looked up at Dottie. She’s right. How can I be so callous? I'd be worried to death about Dottie if the shoe were reversed. Not because of the Thelma and Louise fantasy, but because I love her and I don't want anything to happen to her. “Dottie, I’m so sorry. You’re right and I am concerned about what Madame Toulescent said.”
Dottie continued to stand and glare at Mic. "I am concerned for your safety, Michaela. I think we should hire some RPD guys to hang around your house. Maybe have one travel with you."
Mic held her flaming Irish temper and counted to ten. "Sit down, Dottie. First of all, I don't like to be talked down to and secondly, I don't want you to get dizzy from standing there gawking at me."
Dottie gave her another dirty look, walked over to the bar and refilled her sherry glass. She needed alcohol. It’d been a bad day. She was so angry with Michaela for being careless with her life that her hands were shaking. "I will be there in a second. I need a refill." She turned around and asked, "By the way, how is your white wine and do you need some more?"
Mic drank deeply and said. "Yeah, I'd like another glass. This is a sauvignon blanc. It's fruity and yet it’s dry. It good, crisp, and refreshing."
Dottie nodded. "Good, I'll ring for Cookie to bring in some more. I'm glad you like the wine. Henry purchased about six cases this afternoon to serve with lunch tomorrow afternoon after Camilla's funeral. Cookie went with him and taste-tested it and she liked it." Dottie sat down in her chair and reached her little silver bell to summon Cookie.
Michaela shook her head. "Don't ring that thing. I'll go into the kitchen and get it. It's not a big deal for me."
Dottie sighed deeply. "Okay, if you want to, but get back in here because we have stuff to talk about. The main thing being your safety."
Mic had almost gotten to the door of the library when she bumped into Cookie and Angel. Cookie had the bottle of wine cooling in a wine chiller. "I figured you'd be just about ready for another glass," she said beaming at Mic. "So I’ve brought the bottle. I've another one in the refrigerator. I also selected a cabernet to serve with the London broil."
Michaela bent over to pet Angel’s neck as she accepted the wine. She smiled warmly at Cookie and said, "Honestly, Cookie, I need someone just like you in my life to keep me straight." She gave Dottie a sideways look and said, "I don't think the countess realizes what a gem you are."
"Yes, I do. I really do," Dottie snapped. "Cookie knows how much I need her. I tell her all the time don't I, Cookie?" Dottie said as she glared at her extraordinary housekeeper.
Cookie flashed Mic a look and said diplomatically, "I always like to hear it when you tell me that you need me. It means a lot," she finished with a smile.
Dottie nodded and said to Mic, "Get your wine and sit down. We’ve work to do."
Cookie gave Dottie a critical look and chided, "Really, Countess. You sound so bossy. Michaela is your guest. You need to show her a bit more respect."
Dottie was so mad her face turned beet red. "Thank you, Cookie. I know how to treat my guests,” she said icily. She turned her attention back to Mic and said, her voice contrite, “Please, Michaela, let’s take up where we left off."
Mic poured her wine and returned to her chair. She looked at Cookie, "Thanks for bringing the wine, Cookie. I can't wait until dinner. I know it's gonna be wonderful."
Cookie’s face lit up in a smile. "It is. We’re having fresh asparagus and new potatoes as well as strawberry shortcake for dessert." She looked at Dottie and said, "Henry just put the meat on the grill. Dinner will be served in about forty minutes."
Dottie offered Cookie a tight smile and said, "Thank you. We’ll be ready.” Dottie looked over at Michaela as Cookie left the room. She watched as Angel walked over, lay next to Mic’s feet and said sarcastically, “It’s a good thing that dog loves you because you make it damned hard for people to even like you!”
Angel lifted his head as he heard the word dog. He looked back and forth from Mic to Dottie as he tried to figure out what was going on. He gave each of the women a quizzical look, opened the library door with his nose and walked down the hall towards the kitchen.
Mic laughed and said, "Well, you gotta admit Angel’s about as smart a dog as they come. He knew things were pretty tense here so he just decided to leave."
Dottie nodded but said nothing.
Mic laughed again, "That's pretty smart. No one wants to be around when we're in the middle of it."
Dottie sniffed and said, "If you ask me, he just wanted some more treats and he knows Cookie’s a real pushover for great treats."
Mic laughed and sipped her wine. "Now that's the truth," she said with conviction. She looked across at Dottie and said, "I refuse to have police protection. I'm old enough to take care of myself. Besides, I've got Angel right beside me all the time and he's the best surveillance anybody could have."
Dottie nodded slowly and chose her words carefully. "I agree Angel is as good as it gets, but I know these creeps are intent on murdering people. I wouldn't put it past them to put some poison on a steak to kill or incapacitate him." She paused for a moment as she saw Mic’s face pale with fear. It would kill Mic if something happened to Angel. The two of them were inseparable. Dottie hoped she was long gone before anything happened to the dog. She knew it would destroy Michaela and she wouldn’t be able to stand that.
Mic remained quiet as she thought about the potential harm to her and Angel. At first, she’d only worried about someone sabotaging her, but now she worried about Angel too.
"What do you think, Michaela? Speak to me," Dorothy said quietly. "Honestly, I've already lost Camilla and I would just die if something happened to you or Angel. I'm scared about these people. They’re evil and heinous."
Michaela nodded her head slowly. "Yeah, they are. It's not your rank-and-file murderer, mugger, or rapist. We understand those criminals. We know how they think." She remembered back to the meeting this afternoon. Even FBI SAC Burnley hadn't been able to profile the perps.
Mic looked at Dottie and said, "There was a meeting downtown at FBI headquarters. They had a FBI profiler named Burnley, a nice guy who seemed competent but could not profile the killers. We mostly talked about serial poisoners."
"A serial poisoner? I've never heard of such a thing," Dottie exploded. “I can only assume they’re people who poison over and over again. Is it really that big of a crime? Do many people murder with poison?"
Michaela nodded her head and said, "Yep. Hard to say how many poison deaths there are yearly. Lots of poison crimes are undetected annually so it's hard to get a handle on how often murder by poison occurs. The FBI folks think we've only uncovered the tip of the iceberg as far as defining and recognizing serial poison as a murder instrument."
For once in her life, the Countess Dorothy Borghase was quiet and pensive as she considered the magnitude of the crime. Finally she said, "Well, isn't this the cat's meow. Never heard of it at all. Have you talked with Dr. Grey about this?"
Mic nodded. "Yeah. She was there today. She's consulting with the FBI and she's convinced she's identified the poison."
"Really, what does she think it is?
"She thinks its belladonna. It's a highly poisonous plant."
Dottie smiled broadly and said, "Yes, it certainly is. It's really toxic. I'm growing it in my back flower border. It's also called Nightshade and it's beautiful."
Mic’s mouth fell open. "You're growing Nightshade in your backyard?" Her voice was incredulous.
Dottie nodded. "Yeah, I always have. What's the big deal? Hundreds of people, perhaps billions of people grow it. You can buy it in any plant catalog. I've grown it in the US for years and I grew it at our villa in Italy. The problem is that cows sometimes get in it and they die. You have to be sure you keep it away from livestock, house pets and children. I can remember a long time ago when two children ate belladonna berries in Germany and died."
Michaela shook her head but didn't say anything else. Sometimes she forgot Dottie had eighty years of wisdom and had seen a lot of stuff.
Dottie continued, "Years ago, the count got sick and they couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. So we took him to the Pope's Hospital, just outside Vatican City, in Rome, and they discovered he’d taken too much Donatal, a medicine they used to treat spasms in his stomach."
Mic arched her eyebrows. "So Count Borghase was poisoned by belladonna? Wow!"
Dottie nodded. "Yeah, I'd say he was poisoned by belladonna. He wasn't sick for very long - maybe a few days and then they let him come home and he was fine. But his symptoms were extreme weakness and he lost sensation in his lower legs. He couldn’t walk. Of course, Borgy had a legal prescription ordered by a physician. He wasn't in some back alley with a bunch of perverts mixing up cauldrons of poison."
Mic shook her head, "Yeah, over the years it's had a ton of medical uses. I don't think they use it much anymore because it does have such dastardly effects." She paused for a second and reached for her cell phone. "It's Slade. He said he has some information for me. I need to see him," Mic said.
"Just invite him to dinner. We've got plenty. Ask him where he is and how soon he can get here." Besides, I want to make sure he knows you’re in danger. They can pooh pooh Madame Toulescent all they want, but I’m sure she’s right. Dottie shuddered as she remembered the psychic’s distress at the visions she’d had.
"He's almost at my house so he should be here in ten minutes. I’ll ask Cookie to set one more place."
"Sure. I'll be in there in a minute. I want to finish my sherry because I want a glass of cabernet sauvignon with dinner." Dottie gave her a malicious smile and waited for Mic to complain about her alcohol intake.
Michaela paused at the door and turned to face her much older friend. Dottie sat straight in her easy chair. She looked immaculate; every hair in place and her makeup was perfect. She looked as though she’d just stepped out of Vogue magazine. You wouldn't know she’d had several glasses of sherry. "All I can say to you, Dottie, is that I hope I can hold my booze like you can when I'm your age."
Dottie smiled at her sweetly and said, "You won't be able to, my dear. Because you haven’t been conditioned to drink all your life and I have. The name of the game is everything in moderation built on tolerance over time."
Michaela rolled her eyes and shook her head as she walked down the hall to the kitchen to see Cookie.