Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(11)

“Aloe is wonderful for cuts and burns. Did you know that?”

“Really.” Edna was purposely noncommittal. Then, not wanting to seem too unschooled in the subject, she said, “I’ve heard it takes the sting out of sunburn.” Her words made her aware of how hot it was out here in the sun.

“Aloe’s also a fairly strong laxative.” Dee’s remark brought Edna back to their conversation.

“I believe I did read that in Hazel’s book.” Edna remembered reading about one of the plants causing violent purging, if swallowed, but she wasn’t certain it had been the aloe. She wasn’t about to admit that to Dee, however.

“And the lily-of-the-valley …” Setting off another metallic jangle of bracelets, Dee waved a hand toward the yellowish green leaves covering a two-foot-wide strip against the house to the east of the bench. “Doesn’t it make you wonder at people who chose something that poisonous to put in bridal bouquets?”

She looked expectantly at Edna, who did know just how toxic the pretty little flowers were. Silently, Edna disagreed with Dee’s observation. Using the dainty, bell-like blossoms for decoration was certainly not the same as eating them. She was looking forward to seeing them bloom in the spring.

Wondering if Dee were trying to shock her or repel her by noting all the negative qualities of the plants, Edna was about to remark on the symmetry of the garden’s design, when Dee turned abruptly to survey what lay around them. Her tone grew friendlier, less challenging, when she said, “You have great material here for a Greenthumbs talk.”

Hesitating for only a second or two, Edna said, “Naturally, I have considered it.” Hoping to draw Dee out on what she herself might be planning for a presentation, added, “It sounds like you’d be much better than I. Where did you learn so much about plants and herbs?”

“My mother.”

The answer was quick and dismissive, but Edna prodded. “Oh? She must be quite a gardener.”

“Was,” Dee said. “She died a long time ago.” Slipping her hand into a pocket of her skirt, she pulled out a dainty, white handkerchief and dabbed her neck. “It’s very warm today. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

“Of course.” Edna was relieved not only to get out of the hot sun but to change the subject, as well. Her confidence in developing a winning presentation for next month had suffered a serious setback. She was almost certain Dee would now talk on the same topic.

The more she thought about it, the more her suspicions grew as she led the way across the flagstone patio and ushered her guest into the mudroom. The room where Edna did much of her potting held a large oak table along the far wall. Nearer the door to the rest of the house stood a deep utility sink, and beyond that were built-in shelves containing myriad clay pots and bags of soil and peat moss. She preceded Dee through the room and into the kitchen.

“What a nice, sunny place.” Dee twirled around in the center of the expansive area.

Edna was proud of the country kitchen look she’d accomplished with the use of yellow and blue curtains, pine furniture, and numerous cane baskets. The walls and cupboards were painted white, reflecting natural light that came in through a large window above the sink. The discomfort Edna had been feeling about her guest eased a little.

“Would you rather have a glass of iced tea?” Opening the refrigerator, Edna noticed that Tom had finished off most of the contents of the canning jar. She was relieved when Dee declined, saying water would be fine.

Her thirst quenched, Dee perched on the edge of a ladder back chair and, clutching her hands in her lap, hesitated a moment before asking, “Could I see the rest of the house? This room is so pretty, I’d really love to see what else you’ve done.”

Standing by the sink, sipping her own glass of water, Edna was warmed by the compliment, thinking again what a mix of emotions this woman stirred in her. She glanced at her watch. “Yes, I can give you a quick tour.” By the time she’d set her glass in the sink, Dee was already out the door and into the front hallway. When Edna caught up with her, Dee was studying a small table.

“What lovely grain in this walnut,” she said, running a hand along one edge.

“Thank you. It was a favorite of my mother’s. I remember it beside the chaise lounge in her bedroom.”

“Must be a nice memory,” Dee said, the smile not reaching her eyes. Turning back to the furniture, she added, “This is a particularly nice tea table. It looks to me like eighteenth century.”

“Why, yes, it is.” Edna thought Dee was going to prove as knowledgeable about antiques as she was about plants. “Why don’t I show you the living room?”

Before leaving the hall, however, Dee poked at her shoulder-length curls in front of the gilded mirror hanging just above the little table. Standing behind her guest, Edna was surprised to realize that Dee was examining the scrollwork on the mirror’s frame and not her blonde locks.

She’d supposed Dee to be vainer, and again Edna found she was adjusting her opinion of this unusual woman. Obviously, there was more to Dee Tolkheim than met the eye. When she realized her guest was watching her in the mirror, Edna hurried to break a lengthening silence.

“That mirror belonged to my husband’s great-great-great grandfather who was captain of a whaling vessel out of New Bedford,” she said and turned down the short hallway.