Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(10)

She wondered why Dee wanted this particular herb. Rue was used to ease joint pain. Did she have arthritis? Edna smiled at the thought that beneath the glamour, Dee was aging just like the rest of them. Or maybe she had trouble with indigestion. Too strong a tea would cause vomiting, Edna remembered from Mrs. Rabichek’s journals and wondered if this year’s growing season had produced a particularly strong batch. Perhaps Dee wants to improve her eyesight, Edna thought of yet another property of the versatile herb. Dee would certainly be vain enough to want to avoid wearing glasses or even contact lenses.

Finally able to untie the stubborn knot holding the dried witchbane in place, Edna thought it would be good to get rid of the foul-smelling stuff, although the dried plant wasn’t nearly as pungent as the live. She had almost asked Tom to dig it all up last month but decided not to destroy anything until she understood better why Mrs. Rabichek had planted what she did.

When Edna at last returned to the front of the house, she found several bulging bags lined up next to the front walk and Tom’s pickup was gone. Dee’s convertible was still in the driveway, but the top had been raised, as had the windows. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen.

A vague uneasiness crept through Edna as she started for the kitchen garden in search of her elusive guest.

Three

“Never thought she’d just show up,” Edna muttered, trudging along the red brick path. Still rankled by Dee’s coy behavior with Tom, Edna was bewildered that he had left without first speaking to her. Swinging the swag of rue, she rounded the corner of the house and wondered what Dee was up to. Edna was certain it had something to do with the garden club. They had no other connection.

“Did you buy your place from some sort of medicine woman?” Dee was sitting on a wooden bench pushed up against the side of the house, her eyes half closed and her face tilted to the sun. Legs crossed at the knees, she gently bounced a calfskin pump from the toes of her foot.

Momentarily startled, Edna paused before heading toward the sunny seat herself. “Why do you say that?” She sat down, feeling the late morning heat penetrate her fair skin.

“Whoever lived here before planted some pretty potent stuff.” Dee dropped her gaze to the garden and lazily flicked a wrist, gold and silver bracelets jingling as she did so. Then, as if waking from a hypnotic trance, she straightened and gave Edna a direct and intelligent look. “You were right about what you said last week at the meeting. The former owner had unusual tastes. This garden is wonderfully diverse, isn’t it?”

The comment both surprised and delighted Edna, who so far had found no one, with the possible exception of Mary, to share her enthusiasm and admiration for the work Mrs. Rabichek had put into this little quarter-acre. She felt a twinge of guilt for her previous uncharitable thoughts. After all, she had invited the women, including Dee, to stop by. Apparently, not everyone understood she should call first.

Edna turned to look through new eyes at the large rock garden spread out before them. Medicinal and seasoning herbs grew among granite stones and in raised planters and portable pots set decoratively around the area. The red brick walk, connecting the front driveway to the back patio, split the garden across the middle. Crossing the main walk at right angles was a narrower path of the same moss-spotted brick that connected their weathered wooden bench to the manicured lawn on the opposite side.

“Yes, there’s such a wide variety of plants and herbs, I’ve been trying to absorb it all. I find I have much to learn.” Edna had spent hours sitting on that wooden bench with Hazel Rabichek’s journals of home-brews and potions, studying the rock garden. It was during one of these sessions that she’d come up with the idea for her Greenthumbs presentation. Potions and poisons sounded just right for an October topic, so she was particularly interested in what had prompted Dee’s earlier remark about the potency of the plants. Was Dee thinking the same thing? Was she also planning a witches’ brew type of presentation? Edna wondered if that might be what the rue was for.

“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.