Murder by Yew (An Edna Davies Mystery #1)(24)

Edna’s stomach felt increasingly queasy as she spooned samples from each tea canister into small paper bags and watched as Charlie labeled them. She was fairly certain now that Tom had somehow been poisoned. Did they think she might be responsible?

Her knees felt weak as she walked the detectives to the front door. The rain had stopped, but the afternoon was darkened by an ominous cloud cover. Peggy went off to pick up two of the large plastic bags while Charlie slid the tea samples into a pocket of his tweed jacket and turned to thank Edna for her cooperation. She gave him a half-hearted smile and was about to close the door when he raised a hand to stop her.

“Would you say that you and Tom were friends?”

“Why, yes. I’d say we were friends.” She was puzzled by the question.

“Were you more than friends?”

As she caught his meaning, she became indignant and felt her temper flare. “I am a very happily married woman, Detective, and no, I would not say we were anything more than friends. Is that all you have to ask me?” Backing into the hall, she held onto the edge of the door and waited for him to turn and leave. Her heart was pounding so hard, she thought it would burst through her rib cage.

Charlie looked down at his shoes, but he didn’t move off the granite stoop. After a brief pause, he lifted his eyes to meet hers. “Are you Davy?” he asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Does young Danny Alcott call you Davy?” Now the detective sounded impatient, as if it were a perfectly reasonable question.

Pulling her shoulders back and lifting her chin slightly, Edna said with all the dignity she could muster, “He calls me Mif Davy.”

Nine

Walking to the end of the brick path, Edna watched as Detective Charlie Rogers’ dark blue Ford maneuvered around the broken shell driveway and disappeared onto the road. Why had he asked if Danny called her Davy?

Acid burned her stomach as she thought back over what had just transpired, trying to make sense of it, particularly the police asking for samples of her herbal teas. What had they implied? Do they suspect me of causing Tom’s death? And this queasy sensation in my stomach … could there really be something toxic in my tea?

“Did they tell you?”

Edna jumped, startled by Mary’s sudden appearance at her side. Still edgy and beginning to worry about the increasingly sick feeling in her stomach, she turned, ready to scold her neighbor until she saw Mary’s puffy eyes. Concern replaced her anger. “What’s the matter?”

“Didn’t they tell you about Tom?” Mary’s voice quavered.

Edna should have guessed that Mary would have heard the news of Tom’s death by now, since she seemed to have friends on both the police force and at the hospital. “Yes, they told me. They’re interviewing everyone who was with him yesterday. How did you find out?”

“I called a friend at the hospital to see how he was doing.” Mary took a great gulp of air. Tears slid onto her cheeks as she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a man’s white handkerchief. She blew her nose and wiped at her eyes, but the torrent didn’t stop.

“You really loved him, didn’t you?” The words came out involuntarily as the realization struck Edna. She remembered Tom saying that they had attended high school together, and she wondered if that’s when Mary had fallen in love with the gentle man.

Swiping at her tears, Mary seemed embarrassed and turned to go, but Edna took hold of her arm and pulled her into a hug. The two women clung to each other, their grief shared. Edna’s throat ached as Mary, sobbing loudly, cried on her shoulder.

Finally, Mary stiffened and pulled away. Between hiccups and blowing her nose, she asked, “Did they tell you how he died?”

“No, they didn’t. There has to be an autopsy.” Edna turned, unable to meet her neighbor’s eyes. How will she feel toward me if Tom’s death turns out to be my fault? Edna wondered with a sense of dread.

“I saw Peggy taking your trash bags. Why was she doing that?”

Edna hesitated, knowing Mary would learn soon enough. Not able to find the right words, she ended up muttering a noncommittal, “They’re investigating everything right now.” As she frantically searched her mind for something to distract them both, she said, “I saw a For Sale sign in the Sharps’ yard this morning. What’s going on?”

Mary shrugged, still wiping her eyes and nose. “I went over to talk to Otto. He said Aleda doesn’t want to live here anymore. Regardless of what happens to Codfish, she says she can’t face her friends after what’s happened. Says she knows everyone will be gossiping behind her back and she couldn’t stand to see the accusation in their eyes. Besides, even if the Sharps wanted to stay, there are the lawyer’s bills.”

Realizing this wasn’t such a good topic either, Edna stopped Mary before she spread any more doom and gloom. “Would you like some tea? I could sure use a cup.”

Seating Mary at the kitchen table, Edna put the kettle on to boil. She would have preferred not to have company, since there was so much she needed to get straightened out in her mind, but she was concerned for her neighbor. Tea had really been an excuse so Mary wouldn’t be alone right now.

As she reached for the canister containing her mint blend, Edna hesitated. This wasn’t what she’d used to make Tom’s iced tea, but she paused just the same. Thinking of the two canning jars, she stopped, wondering. Could mixing the contents have caused some sort of toxic reaction? She shook herself, angry with the police for making her feel paranoid. Of course those herbs aren’t toxic. Nothing in her tea would have caused someone’s death.