Murder and Marinara (20 page)

I strode out to the garden blindly. My hands shook as I shot a couple of pictures of the foxglove, then made sure they were saved to the phone. As I stared at the pretty bell-shaped blooms, comprehension dawned: This plant might be the one thing standing between the Casa Lido and complete ruin.

Without giving myself time to think, I slipped the white tag into my jeans pocket, grasped the heavy pot, and looked around wildly for somewhere to put it. A voice in my head—one that sounded strangely like Nonna's—was saying,
Get rid of it. Get rid of it. No one will know.
But a second voice, the one imagined as I created him, came to me in heavily accented Italian.
No,
cara
. That is not the way
,
Bernardo whispered.
You know this will come to no good . . .

And then another voice broke into my thoughts. One I'd heard quite recently in the dining room.

“Going somewhere with that plant, Ms. Rienzi?”

I
dropped the plant, straightened up, and smiled into the face of Prosecutor Sutton. “Just moving it to a sunnier spot.” Maybe I had been possessed by the spirit of my grandmother; lying was coming much easier to me these days.

“Is that so?” Sutton reached out to finger one of the leaves. “You have any idea what kind of flower this is?”

I shrugged. “I'm not sure. I leave the gardening to my grandmother.” It took all of my control not to slide my hand into my jeans pocket to make sure the tag was safely stowed away. I turned to look at her. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Because I couldn't ask,
Why are you snooping around the garden?
Though the answer was obvious.

“Not at the moment.” She tilted her head and looked from me back to the foxglove. “But I'll certainly be calling upon you one of these days.” She turned to leave, stopped, and smiled slightly. “Just so you are aware, my team has been over this area. And we've taken a careful inventory.” Her smile widened. “Lunch was delicious, by the way. You have a nice day now,” she called out as she strode away.

I was left staring at the foxglove.
They already know it's here. And if that's what killed him . . .

“No,” I said. “I can't think this way. Not until I know more.” Unfortunately, the one person who could tell me more was Nonna.

I found her back in the kitchen, inspecting Nando's work. And my own as well, judging by the scowl on her face. She pointed to my handiwork on the counter. “Victoria, you made a mess of this chicken.”

“Sorry, Nonna. I'll do better next time.” I glanced over at Nando and then whispered to Nonna, “Could I show you something in the garden?”

Her scowl deepened. “What do you need to show me in the garden? Those basil plants you stripped?”

“Uh, no. Something else.”

“Aren't you supposed to be serving?”

“Lori's up front, and this won't take long.” I strained for a smile. “If I want to learn about the restaurant, I need to learn about the garden, too.”

She made a
humph
ing sound, but followed me out the door to the spot where the foxglove stood in all its deadly innocence.

“This plant,” I said. “Isn't it dangerous? Nando said his cousin wouldn't even touch it.”

“Victoria,” she snapped, “this is what you drag me out here for?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I have been planting foxglove for years. They're safe if you know how to handle them. I even harvest the seeds.”

All parts of the plant are poisonous
, I had read,
including the flowers, leaves, and seeds.
Seeds could be well hidden in a salad dressing filled with dried herbs. I swallowed. “Did you say you harvest the seeds?”

“Some years, yes. I put them with the herbs in the pantry.”

I closed my eyes.
Oh dear Lord, did I have to do a sweep of the pantry, too? Get a grip, Vic. As if you'd tamper with evidence, even to protect your family or Tim.
That's what I told myself, anyway. But out here earlier, I had acted on instinct, an instinct that fairly screamed at me to dump that plant.

“Victoria, I don't have all day to stand around here talking about the garden.”

My grandmother's sharp tones brought me out of my anxious reverie. “Sorry, Nonna.” Would that I had a buck for every time I uttered those words. “I was just a little worried about that plant.”

The sun glinted off the lenses of my grandmother's eyeglasses, making it impossible to see the light dawning in her eyes. “You think somebody used this to kill that
cafone
, don't you?” she asked.

Before I could answer, she had already heaved the pot into her arms, and her intention was clear.
Hmm
, I thought,
the tomato doesn't fall too far from the vine
. I put my hand on her scrawny but surprisingly strong arm. “Don't even think about it.”

She held the plant against her as though it were a precious commodity. “I don't know what you're talking about, Victoria.”

“Yes, you do,” I hissed. “You need to put that plant back right now.”

“No, I do not. And anyway, it's dying. I think I'll go put it out in the compost.” She turned to walk away.

“Nonna,” I called. “You can't. The police know it's here.”

She shrugged and kept walking. “If you do that,” I called out, “Danny will lose his job.”

She paused, but didn't turn around. “You don't want Danny to be kicked off the force, do you?”

I watched her shoulders droop and felt a pang of pity for her. She was only following the same impulse I'd had earlier—to protect her family and the livelihood that meant so much to her. She turned back to me, and I took the heavy pot from her arms and set it back down.

“Look,” I said, “there's no proof this is what killed him. That's the trouble; we don't know what killed him.”

She narrowed her eyes and pointed straight at my nose. “You promised me you'd find out!”

I hadn't exactly promised; in fact, I'd been strong-armed and guilted into this little investigation. But now that I
was
in it, there was no turning back. “I'll try, okay?” I said with a sigh. “In the meantime, you leave that plant right where it is.” And then I did something I'd been afraid to do for months: I kissed my grandmother on her paper-thin cheek. She looked at me with an expression of suspicion and something that might have been pleasure. Or a touch of
agita
. Without saying another word, she walked back into the kitchen, leaving me in the garden to review.

A poisonous plant discovered in the garden. A visit from the county prosecutor. And a small spot of evidence tampering.

Just another day around the Casa Lido.

I pulled out my phone and texted Sofia.
Can you meet me at the cottage around 3? New developments!

If I knew my partner-in-solving-crime, she'd be at my door at 2:58. In the meantime, though, I had to finish out the lunch shift. And pray there would be no more visits from Regina Sutton.

•   •   •

Sofia made the wise decision to stop for coffees before showing up at my door. We sat out on the deck, facing the ocean, sipping the reviving caffeine and scribbling notes as we talked.

“I can't believe Sutton actually showed up at the restaurant,” Sofia said. “What do you think that was about?”

“Well, to warn me off, of course. And maybe to check things out for herself. She said her ‘team' had already been over the garden. And probably noted everything in it.”

“Including this.” Sofia held up the white plant tag, then slipped it into the red folder.

“Don't remind me.”

“Vic, there's no proof this plant killed him. And wouldn't his stomach contents show that anyway?”

“Yes, they would—in another couple of weeks, when the testing is done.”

“But all Danny said was that the medical examiner had a ‘hunch about a natural substance,' right?”

“Right. But if there's one thing I've learned from writing mysteries, it's not to trust coincidence. And symptoms of
Digitalis
poisoning plus a foxglove plant on the scene is a bit too coincidental for me.” I looked across at Sofia. “And for Nonna, apparently.” Then I shared the conversation with my grandmother, right up to the moment Nonna was ready to dump the evidence out on the compost heap.

Sofia shook her head and grinned. “I could just see her carting that plant off the premises.”

“She almost did. You don't think a little thing like a felony arrest would stop her, do you? No, it was the thought of her precious Danny getting kicked off the force.”

“Speaking of my beloved husband, SIL, let's go over again what he told you that day out on the marina.” She pulled out a page from the folder. “Okay. So the police know about the threatening letters Angie talked about.”

“Right. But that's as much as he would say.”

“Do you think the person who sent the letters is the same person who killed him?”

“Of course it's possible. But in a sense, he was a public figure. He produced a reality show that's a sensation, but was also crude and offensive.” I shrugged. “To tell you the truth, I'm surprised he didn't get
more
threatening letters.”

“Okay,” Sofia said. “What else is here? Both water bottles were clean, right? The one you served him and the one he brought with him.”

“Yup. And the biggest bombshell of all was, of course, that both Angie and Emily have an alibi.”

Sofia held up her pen. “Which checked out.”

“Unfortunately.” I stared out at the water, my mind returning to the same thought: It's Tim or Mr. B. But something else buzzed around my brain, something as annoying and elusive as the sand flies that tormented us each summer. But just as quickly, it flew away.

“Hey, Vic,” Sofia said, her voice rising. “Hang on a minute. Danny also told you Parisi was on medication. Who's to say one of those two crazy women didn't slip something into his medicine bottle? Maybe it just
looks
like something he ate killed him.”

I sat straight up in the deck chair. “Holy crap. I hadn't thought of that. Gosh, Sofe. I wonder if he took a pill during lunch? Angie would have had access to his medicine.”

“So would Emily,” Sofie said firmly, “and you know it. She saw him the day before. It would have been easy enough to switch a medicine bottle or add something to his.” She grabbed my arm with a samurai grip. “Wait—they use
Digitalis
for heart medication, don't they? It must come in a pill form.”

“Of course! And he was already on beta blockers. Who knows what that combination might do to somebody with a bad heart?” I grabbed my sister-in-law's face and gave her a big smacking kiss on the cheek. “You're a genius, Sofia Delmonico.”

She grinned at me. “You mean I'm a fricken genius.” She already had her laptop open for a search. She tried “beta blockers and
Digitalis
” and got a bunch of articles from medical journals that weren't for the lay reader. She groaned. “I might be a genius, but I'm no doctor. I'm lost here.”

“Let me try.” As I read over her shoulder, I learned a few important facts. The substance in
Digitalis
used in heart medication was digoxin. Sometimes digoxin was prescribed with beta blockers, but there were a number of warnings listed about using the drugs together. And then I read the sentence that changed everything. “Here it is, Sofe!” I pointed at the screen. “I don't get the chemistry either, but listen to this: ‘Digoxin concentrations are increased with beta blockers, causing serious decrease in heart rate.'”

She turned to look at me, her eyes wide. “One of those women fixed him a nasty pharmaceutical cocktail.”

“And whichever of them did it also engineered that meeting in Ocean Grove to give herself an alibi.” I nodded slowly. “It makes sense, SIL. Finally, something makes sense. And my money's still on Angie for the culprit.”

She shook her head. “I vote Emily. That business card is a fake, and there's something suspicious about her showing up at the restaurant to see you.” She shut down her computer and stood up. “In fact, it's high time we did some digging into her life, and I'm gonna start right now. I'll check in with you later.”

After she left, I watched the waves break on the shore and my heart lifted. For the first time in days, I had some hope. Hope that Tim wouldn't end up on trial for murder. Hope that the restaurant wouldn't close down. And hope that I'd finally get back to my book and put all of this behind me. And then my phone rang.

“Hello, Victoria!” I winced as Nina LaGuardia's trilling TV voice assaulted my ear. “Do you know what day this is?”

“Uh . . . Thursday,” I said weakly.

“Now, really, do you think that playing dumb will work with me? You know very well your time is up. We need to schedule that interview, and pronto!”

“Listen, Nina. I'm close. I really am. And if I'm right, this story will be huge.” I needed to throw her something, and quickly. “I happen to know the county prosecutor will be bringing in persons of interest any day.”

“I know that,” she said impatiently. “What I don't know is who killed Gio Parisi, which is what you promised to find out. Are you telling me you don't have that information for me?”

I swallowed, and the sound seemed to echo across the entire beach. “I need more time. Just a couple of days.”

“Uh-uh. Sorry, darling. We had a deal. So you'd better be ready to have your skinny behind in hair and makeup at five tomorrow morning.”

“Wait, Nina.” I had to hold her off. What could I possibly give her that would buy me a couple more days? And then inspiration struck. “Would you hear me out for a second?”

“I'm very busy, Victoria, so make this quick.”

“You give me two more days, and I'll do another exclusive interview with you when my next mystery comes out.”

She yawned loudly into the phone. “Not interested.”

“That's too bad because the next book in the series is the HBO tie-in.” I crossed myself and sent up a quick Act of Contrition, neither of which would be enough to keep me from burning in hell for this one.

Her voice quickened with interest. “HBO picked up your books?”

“I really shouldn't even be talking about it, so this is all on the down low at the moment, okay?” I lowered my voice for effect. “I mean, De Niro's people still have to get back to us.”

“Robert De Niro!” she squealed. “Oh my God, is he playing Bernardo?”

“That's the plan.”
In my dreams
,
anyway
. “So can I have a couple more days?”

She sighed. “Victoria, you'd better come through on this. On
all
of it. Or that little ‘no comment' snippet is going to look like an award-winning production compared to what I'll do to you next time.”