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The storm that had closed down the coastline finally moved east, and a few supply boats and tourist yachts began to make their way slowly back to the island’s marinas and docks.
“Back to normal I hope.” Pamela sighed with relief as she gazed through the dining room window at the blue skies above.
“What are you going to do about a new resort boat?” asked Monica.
“The insurance company have given me the go ahead to get another boat. I’ve told Leo to start looking.”
“Does Bertha have any family?” asked Erin sipping her coffee and picking a chocolate éclair off a plate of afternoon tea sweets.
“No idea. She left no will that I know of. She came here from England and had no family at all here. I called the mainland police, gave them her Swiss passport information and they are looking into possible family members. If nobody comes forward, I think I will scatter her ashes here on the island. She did like it here. She once called it ‘serene’.”
“Serene?” laughed Monica, “not this week. Somebody wanted her dead, and a lot of people have a good motive. Not to speak ill of the dead, but she seemed to annoy a lot of folks.”
The dining room door burst open with a bang and Leo stood there, his eyes wide open and wild. “Abella is really sick! She’s at the clinic!”
“Leo, what happened?” called Pamela rushing towards him.
“The hospital just called. They said she might have been poisoned.”
Pamela, Erin and Monica guided a mumbling Leo out to the golf cart shed, piled into one and took off towards the medical clinic. They were met at the door by a young nurse who led them into a small room.
“I am so sorry,” she said quietly, “but Abella died a few minutes ago.”
Leo crumpled to the floor sobbing and the girls helped him into a chair. Pamela was so stunned she couldn’t get one word out and Erin and Monica were also speechless.
“Let me see her, my poor Abella,” moaned Leo. Minutes later they were standing in a small room that doubled as a morgue. The nurse pulled out the third drawer; they all knew that Bertha’s lifeless body occupied the first, and old Mrs. Law was in the second. They stared at the very pretty but very dead face of Abella, former chef and author of culinary eBooks. Leo was about to throw himself across her body in grief when Erin caught his arm. “Leo, you can’t touch her. The police will want to check her for evidence.” Leo turned away and wept into his hands.
“What the heck is going on here?” asked Pamela in disbelief. “Is there a serial killer on the loose? First Bertha is strangled to death, then old Mrs. Law dies from poison and now Abella?”
“What killed her?” demanded Leo turning towards the nurse.
“We think she was poisoned but the toxicology reports will give us a lot more information.”
“Pamela, can we speak to you for a second?” asked Monica and she and Erin went back out into the waiting area. Turning to Pamela she said in a low voice, “Call Police Chief Van Dyck, our friend, and tell him to get over here as fast as possible. If there is a serial killer on the island, then we need backup.”
The next few hours were a blur. Monica was delighted to hear that Van Dyck would be arriving the next morning with a team. Leo had been given a sedative and was resting in one of the resort rooms. Pamela stood in front of her small group of guests that evening in the dining room and revealed what had happened to Leo’s girlfriend Abella. The Opawonga Resort was very subdued that night and there was an air of tension everywhere; everybody wondered if they would be next on the killer’s list.
Privately Monica confided to Erin that she wondered if Jennifer Patterson was guilty of poisoning Mrs. Law and Abella.
“Would she have the nerve do you think?” asked Erin shaking her head.
“If she is right off her rocker she might,” said Monica adding, “but did she want to be head chef so badly that she’d risk everything and kill not one, but two people to get the job?”
“Well if it wasn’t Jennifer, then who, and more importantly, why?
***
“This is going to shut me down,” Pamela moaned to Monica in her office the next morning. “Why Abella? She was a harmless person. I didn’t know her well, but she was part of the island community and was a bit of a local star as a successful writer and chef.”
“Maybe when Leo is feeling up to it the police will be able to get some answers out of him,” suggested Erin looking out the window. In the distance she saw a speck moving on the horizon and squinted to get a better look. The speck morphed into a boat. “I think the cavalry will be arriving soon,” she said happily a few minutes later.
Within twenty minutes a police boat came into view and the three girls went to the dock to greet it. Monica and Erin both broke into smiles at the sight of the group standing on the bow. Van Dyck had not only brought his three forensic experts and photographer along, but Patrick, Monica’s husband, was also on board along with Erin’s boyfriend Sergeant Wickens. From the opening of a carryall bag in Patrick’s arms Monica could see a little white furry face sticking out. “Erin,” she laughed pointing towards the boat, “Haggis is joining us too!”
Despite the sad occasion and reason for the arrival of the police, Monica, Erin and Pamela were glad of reinforcements. One death was bad, two very scary, but three meant things were getting out of hand.
After the introductions and greetings were done, along with pats for an overjoyed Haggis, and hugs and kisses for Erin and Monica, Van Dyck got right down to business and asked the girls to give him and his staff a briefing within the hour.
Pamela was clearly delighted and relieved at the arrival of the police and made sure all the new guests had the best rooms with breathtaking views of the lake. An hour later, holding their comprehensive notes and the photos of Bertha and Mrs. Law, Monica and Erin, with the occasional comment from Pamela, told the police what they had seen, heard, discovered and surmised. At the end, Van Dyck sat back with a sigh.
“You girls have done a great job so far, but you were smart to call us in. Things are getting bad. Erin, do some more digging on this Adrian fellow. You said he came here to Canada after his parents died?”
“Yes, he would have been about eight or nine years old,” agreed Erin checking her notes.
“Do some more digging into his past,” suggested Van Dyck, knowing that Erin’s ability to ‘think outside the box’ allowed her to see a mystery or problem from different angles. “Pamela, can you see if Jennifer Patterson is here at work today? I would like to have a chat with her later, and Monica, I’d like you to go and speak to her husband Gerald again. Let’s find out more about those green potatoes they have in their greenhouse and how Mrs. Law might have got them to eat. Maybe Abella ate them too, but who gave them to her? Wickens, get a golf cart and go to the hospital and speak to the doctors and nurses who dealt with Mrs. Law and Abella. The forensic team are going to look for clues or evidence in the basement where Bertha’s body was found, and at Mrs. Law’s house. They’ll be going over everything with a fine-toothed comb. Patrick and I are going to talk to the staff and guests once again.”
Everybody rose from the table and within seconds the room was empty except for Pamela who sat back in her chair. She knew another round of interrogations were necessary, but her guests would never come back again. Was this the end of the Opawonga Resort?
***
Erin set her iPad up in the small resort library and searched for ‘Adrian Merriweather, Canada.’ There were a few results, but they were obviously wrong, having to do with a Merriweather Bakery, an Adrian Lane, and a dog called Prince Adrian who had won ‘Ugliest Mutt” contest at a local country fair. She tapped her fingers on the table and thought for a few moments.
‘Go back to the source’ Van Dyck had once told her and Monica when they were baffled by a problem. She decided on a different angle and typed in, ‘Merriweather fatal car crash 1986’ and her screen came alive with results. As a prominent London lawyer with a successful high-profile model as a wife, John and Clarisse Merriweather were big news. The accident was called ‘tragic’, and ‘heartbreaking’ by most writers, but some darker reports hinted at something more sinister and referred back to the drowning the year before of their daughter Claire.
Some suggested that the car accident was caused by somebody seeking revenge for the sloppy enquiry into the death of the child. Why, some reporters demanded to know, were so many statements and facts never checked out thoroughly? Why was the case investigated so quickly and closed suspiciously fast? Was somebody being protected? Even poor Hershey, the cook’s dog, was the star in one article titled, “Why did Hershey Have to Die?”
“How is it going?” asked Monica walking into the room.
“Well, I haven’t found out anything about Adrian’s last name. But, when the parents died, like that woman suggested from the Stow-in-the-Wold Facebook page, there was a whole media flare up about the controversy surrounding the death of Claire and a possible cover up. Here, read some of these comments and questions in the papers.”
Monica sat down and read the reports. Finally, she sat back. “Have you seen an atlas around here?”
“Why?” asked Erin standing up to peruse the shelves.
“Well, Albertville is kind of a strange name. I wonder if it is a real village?” replied Monica placing a large leather-bound book on the table. She flipped through to a map of France and then checked an index of towns. “Bingo,” she said pointing to the map. Erin looked and smiled. Albertville was a large town in the French Alps.
“I am going to assume that the Adrian here and the Adrian from England are one and the same. Now I wonder why he picked that for a last name?”
“Where was the fatal crash?”
“It was in the French Alps on a road near the town of Gilly-sur-Isere.”
“And look here, Gilly-sur-Isere is just down the road from Albertville.”
“Ok, then the next obvious question is why did he change his name?”
“Look at it this way. Adrian’s sister dies and a year later he is dealt another blow when his parents are killed. He is sent to away to live with relatives in Canada. As he grows up, he realizes that there was a lot of controversy surrounding the death of his sister and even the death of his parents. He doesn’t want to get embroiled in controversy if the media discover him and the whole mess flares up again. He decides to change his name and picks something that is meaningful to him, in this case the name of the town close to where his parents died. He was protecting the memory of his parents and his sister by changing his name,” said Monica.
“Very possibly,” agreed Erin. “The comment that Bertha made in her diary about Adrian looking at her slyly and how he listened to adult conversations around doorways makes me think that he wasn’t an innocent child.”
“Are you suggesting that Adrian might have something to do with Claire’s death? He was just a child.”
“Personally,” said Erin, “I think he was probably a nasty child and has grown into a very unpleasant adult.”
Patrick and Van Dyck walked into the library a few minutes later and Erin went through her results and ideas.
“Well done,” smiled Van Dyck, “Monica how did you get on with Mr. Patterson?”
“Gerald Patterson is, I think, totally innocent. He says he didn’t see Mrs. Law on Friday at all and never gave her any potatoes. He was clearly stunned when he saw all those tins of stolen food inside his greenhouse cupboard.”
“And you both saw them?”
Monica shot a glance at Erin.
“Ok, you gals, what is going on?” asked Van Dyck. “Well, Erin and I decided to go on a little midnight ramble over to the Patterson’s house. Gerald caught us, and his dog bolted into a cupboard in the greenhouse running after mice and upset all the stolen tins of food. Jennifer came out and admitted what she had been doing.”
“I don’t suppose the words ‘search warrant’ came to mind?” quizzed Van Dyck.
“There was no way we could get one,” said Erin quietly.
“Ok, I am going to put that out of my mind for now. Let’s move along. What else did you find out?”
“I think he lives with a very unhappy, disgruntled woman and I bet his life is no bed of roses,” suggested Monica.
“He’s a retired botanist, right?” asked Patrick.
“Yes, retired a few years ago. He worked here on the island doing research for a major university. Nowadays he grows vegetables and flowers and sells a lot from his greenhouse and garden.”
“Was Jean Law one of his customers?”
“Gerald says yes. Jean and Jennifer were friends through the quilting group. In fact, Gerald says that Jean was one of the few women who had stayed friends with Jennifer. He admitted that her constant whining about not being head chef at the resort drove a lot of her old friends away.”
“So, Gerald claims he didn’t sell any potatoes to Jean last week.”
“He says he didn’t, but she may have come to the house when he wasn’t there, and Jennifer might have.”
Sergeant Wickens put his head around the door. “Back from the hospital,” he said, and Erin’s pulse beat a little faster at the sight of his handsome face, clear blue eyes and well-trimmed brown hair.
“What’s the news?” asked Van Dyck.
“Old Mrs. Law did die from solanine poisoning from potatoes. Abella was poisoned with Belladonna, a highly toxic plant berry containing tropane alkaloids. Even a few of these berries is enough to kill an adult and they were found in her stomach contents with some dessert type food.”
“Their taste was disguised by the sweetness of the dessert?”
“Yes, apparently the berries do have a sweet taste, so she never suspected what she was ingesting.”
“Pamela, did you find Jennifer? I would like to speak to her.”
“She will be here any minute. She was cleaning the cottages at the far end of the property. I asked her to drop by.”
Jennifer walked in a few moments later clearly upset at being called back in for more questioning. “What’s all this about then. I have said my piece to Pamela and apologized.”
“Jennifer, at this point we do not believe that you killed Bertha. I do not think that you are physically capable of this crime. Stealing resort food is something you and Pamela will have to work out. What we want to know is if Mrs. Jean Law bought some potatoes from you the day before she died?”
“No!” came the reply very quickly. “She didn’t.”
“You are aware of how she died aren’t you?” asked Patrick.
“I have no idea at all.”
“Apparently she ate some poison potatoes. Are you sure that she didn’t get them from you or your husband?”
“Absolutely. Now can I go?”
“Just a few more questions please,” remarked Patrick looking at his notes. “Apparently Wiley saw two people come out of the basement door. I am assuming that one of them was you that night stealing tins of food. Am I right?”
Jennifer turned red and mumbled yes.
“Please walk us through what you did that night Jennifer, and don’t leave out any details. Also, please bear in mind that Mrs. Law mumbled the words, ‘alone. No Jenn’ just before she died.”
Jennifer went pale when she heard this, but she struggled to compose herself. “I told Gerald I was going to the community center and I hid in our greenhouse till 7:45pm. I never did go to the center. Then I walked to the resort, opened the door with the old key, and went to the storeroom. I took three cans of vegetables and some gravy mix. Just then I heard a scuffling noise in the storage area. I thought it might be rats, but then I heard some thumping and banging. I was scared so I took off out of the door and ran home.”
“What time was this?”
“Not sure exactly but just before 8:00 pm.”
“Did you see anybody, or did anybody see you?”
“I don’t think so because it was raining so hard. I went home and told Gerald I had gone to quilting but nobody else was there and then I said I had waved at Harry at the marina.”
“Both lies, right?” asked Van Dyck raising his eyebrows. “We know that Mrs. Law did turn up at the community center, and Harry never saw you go by his guard house because he wasn’t there. Now one last question. Have you ever heard of Belladonna?”
“Bella what?”
“Do you know where Leo and Abella live?”
“No. Never been there. Never been invited.”
“You can leave.”
Jennifer left the room in a flash and everybody sat thinking silently.
“Well, without a witness Jennifer could say she had never sold potatoes to Jean Law and it would not be refuted,” offered Van Dyck.
“I think I might know who can help us,” said Erin, “and it’s a long shot, but Wiley who knows all and sees all around town does a daily walkabout. There’s a slim chance that he might have seen Mrs. Law with some potatoes.”
“Can we get him up here for a chat?” asked Van Dyck.
“No!” cried Monica and Erin together.
“Wiley needs to be handled with kid gloves so let Monica and I go alone. We will have to find him first and then talk to him. We will report back later.”
Finding Wiley was no easy task. The girls asked at the marinas, coffee shop and stores, but nobody had seen him. Finally, they turned their golf cart towards his house and saw him standing outside with his cat in his arms.
“Wiley, how are you?”
“Good. What you doing here?”
“Wiley you write everything down, don’t you? Who you meet, what time you did things, and where you went.”
“Yes.”
“Who did you talk to last Friday morning Wiley?”
“Let me check in my book.” Wiley opened his front door and went over to a chest of drawers. The girls followed. Inside were piles of small black books bound with elastics. He pulled the top one of a pile on the right-hand side, checked the dates inside, and sat down. Slowly, he thumbed through the pages. “Here, last Friday I did my walkabout like usual. Left house 9:00 am, coffee 9:15-9:30 am, talked to Mrs. Pearson the vicar’s wife and she gave me some sandwiches for lunch, walked past resort, marina and houses on Rose Lane where I spoke to some men trying to secure boats at their docks.”
“Anybody else?” asked Erin trying to hide the disappointment in her voice.
Wiley went back to his book. “I did say hello to Mrs. Spencer who was at the post office.”
“That it?”
“Well that’s it for the morning.”
“Now how about the afternoon? See anybody around and about?”
“Arthur Simons who waved at me, Bryce Mackenzie called to me, but I couldn’t hear him because of the storm. Then just before I got to the beach at the edge of town, I saw old Mrs. Law.”
“You did? Did you speak to her?” asked Monica eagerly.
“Oh yes, she was a nice lady. She had a basket of small potatoes and she gave me some, but I haven’t eaten them yet.”
“Wiley don’t eat those potatoes,” said Erin grabbing his arm, “they are green and poisonous. Promise me you will give them to us right now.”
Wiley got up, went to a small kitchen cupboard and handed Erin five small green potatoes.
“These are what killed poor old Mrs. Law. Now Wiley, did you ask her where she got these?”
“She said that her best friend Jennifer Patterson gave them to her, and she was going to eat them with her dinner that night with butter and chives.”