Poison Heart (21 page)

CHAPTER 25

Turn on the siren and head to Pepin,” Claire told Bill as they jumped into the squad car, he in the driver’s seat and she in the passenger’s.

She got on the phone and asked the receptionist at the sheriff’s department to put her through to Lakeside Manor. When Jolene answered the phone, Claire was glad to hear her familiar voice. “I’m calling for Beatrice.”

“Oh, she has company. I think she’s in her room. Let me go see.” Claire could hear Jolene talking to someone else, and then the nurse came back on the line, “Yes, she’s here with a visitor.”

“Is it Patty Jo Tilde?”

The nurse said happily, “Yes, it is. She’s such a dear.”

Claire wasn’t sure what she could ask the nurse to do. “Would you mind going and staying with Beatrice? I’m on my way there, and I’m concerned about her.”

“Why? She seems fine.”

“Just humor me. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

Bill was driving over sixty miles an hour and taking the curves tightly as the road wound around the farmland. Claire looked up and could see the lake before them. They were minutes out of town. She pulled air deep into her belly. Beatrice would be fine. What could Patty Jo do to her in the nursing home in broad daylight?

Claire answered her own question—just what she had done to her first husband, Florence Tilde, and possibly Walter Tilde. Poison her.

Patty Jo enjoyed every minute of the scene in the nursing home. The deputy came roaring in with her sidekick. They grabbed the jar of jelly. Handcuffed Patty Jo. Stuck her in the squad car.

Then an ambulance pulled up and Beatrice, despite all her objections, was hauled out of her room and to the ambulance. Patty Jo assumed they would take her to the hospital and pump her stomach.

Patty Jo couldn’t help but let a little smile float across her mouth. Poor Beatrice! How foolish Claire Watkins would feel. There was nothing in the jar of jelly. Nothing at all but crabapples.

When Jolene had told her that the deputy was snooping around, asking about what had happened to Florence, she decided it was time to give her another scare. Maybe now she would leave her alone.

Patty Jo wouldn’t mind this ride to the sheriff’s department. She just hoped she’d be able to see Claire Watkins’s face when she found out the jelly was untainted.

Through the window of the squad car she could watch everything happening. Claire Watkins was assuring Beatrice she would be okay, holding the old woman’s hand as she was loaded into the ambulance. Too bad in a way that she hadn’t given Beatrice some rat poison. Hard to watch someone with that much spunk be trapped in a life she didn’t want anymore.

She had hated it when her first husband had been disabled. Then she came to hate him. It didn’t take her too long to figure out a way to get them both out of the trap that life had set for them. Her husband, she knew, was glad to be released from his pitiful life. And she was glad to set him free.

After the ambulance pulled away, Patty Jo relaxed into the seat of the car.

The two deputies got into the front seat of the car. Claire Watkins turned around and asked Patty Jo what she thought she was up to.

“I thought Beatrice might like some jelly. I made it specially for her.”

“You’ve just dug yourself a pretty big hole, Patty Jo. After what we found . . .”

“What you found? What do you mean?”

“Oh, I know how you like to have your lawyer close at hand. Let’s just wait to talk about all this until we can get everyone rounded up. Then maybe everyone would like to have a cup of your tea.”

Patty Jo felt her heart drop in her chest. Tea. She didn’t like the sound of that.

With Patty Jo Tilde safely tucked in the backseat of the squad car, Claire felt she could relax and enjoy the ride back to the County Government Center in Durand, so she took the back route.

Approaching the Chippewa, Claire saw that the trees were starting to turn colors. The maples went first. Soft yellow, then dropping into sweet red-orange. A maple tree would surprise you on a hillside tucked into a stand of aspen. The hills were lovely in their early fall color. Claire hoped no rain or wind would come in the next few weeks to pull the leaves off the trees. It would be their last shot of color for about six months.

Bill sat next to her with the samples of rat poison and canister of tea at his feet. The crabapple jelly was in the other squad car. Jim had found it, and she was going to let him bring it in.

Patty Jo didn’t appear to be enjoying the sights. She was leaning back in the seat, closing her eyes. Maybe she was praying.

Once they got to the sheriff’s department, Claire led Patty Jo back to the interview room. She would let her sit there for a while. Soften her up. Patty Jo still hadn’t asked her any questions when they left her there. She hadn’t even asked for her lawyer. She seemed to have caved in.

Claire didn’t quite trust her, but she also didn’t see how Patty Jo could get out of this newest alleged crime. Murder. That’s what it came down to. They would have to exhume Florence Tilde’s body, but, thank goodness, she had not been cremated.

Claire went into the sheriff’s office and told him what had happened. “She’s here? You brought her in?”

“Yup. With some of Florence’s homemade jelly. Jim’s got it. He dug a half-eaten jar out of the refrigerator. But best of all, we found a bag of warfarin concentrate in a tea canister in the cupboard. I’m sure we’ll find that it has Patty Jo’s fingerprints all over it. Patty Jo probably poisoned Florence with her own jelly. I call that lazy and tacky.”

“You’ve never cared for Patty Jo anyway. What does she have to say for herself?”

“Not much. I didn’t ask her anything yet. I wanted you to be in on the whole thing. I told her we’d get her lawyer. But I’m in no hurry. Let her sit. Let her stew. She seems like she’s in shock. Maybe she’ll be more forthcoming this time.”

“Good work, Claire.”

“Thanks.”

“What made you even suspect her of this?”

“There isn’t much I’d put past her. She’s a nasty person, out to get what she can get from everyone around her. If her sister is right and she’d already done away with one husband, I think it would have been easier the next time. I suspect she had a hand in the death of Walter Tilde, but I don’t see any way of proving that, since he was cremated. Just like she cremated her first husband. Walter’s death certificate reads stroke, and that’s probably what he died from—just brought on a little early by rat poison.”

“Impossible to prove?”

“I’m afraid so. Rich’s mother saw Patty Jo visit her husband the night before he died, but I don’t think we can make much of that.” Claire stopped and added, “Unless she tells us about it.”

The sheriff ordered some hamburgers from the café down in town. When the order arrived, the three deputies and Claire sat down with him to celebrate. Stupid jokes about rat poison were exchanged, among much laughter. Claire was glad to have Patty Jo back in custody. This time, Claire planned to keep her there.

When the sheriff and Claire got up to go talk to Patty Jo, Claire asked Jim to send the crabapple jelly off to the lab. Then she turned to the sheriff. “I suggest we book her on attempted assault and hold her until we get the lab results back. Unless she gives us more information.”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go talk to her.”

Patty Jo was sitting at the table with her hands folded in front of her. Any other person, Claire might have thought she was praying. With Patty Jo, she was certain it was a pose. Patty Jo was trying to scramble her way out of this latest fix.

Claire turned on the tape recorder and named the people in the room and the date.

“I don’t think you can drag me back in here when I didn’t do anything to your mother-in-law.”

“Patty Jo, we don’t know that yet. Besides, that isn’t why you’re here.”

Patty Jo’s head jerked up as if it were tied to a string the puppet master had just yanked. “What?”

“We searched your house again.”

Patty Jo’s eyes narrowed.

“This time we went looking for some particular jelly.”

Patty Jo didn’t say anything.

“I asked the nurse who worked the day that Florence died if you had been there. She told me she remembered that you had and that you generously brought in some jelly for her to eat. She even remembers you feeding it to Florence. Unfortunately for you, Margaret was given the jelly after her mother’s death and stored it in her fridge. The lab was able to detect rat poison in the crabapple jelly you fed to Florence.”

“I didn’t bring her any jelly.”

“We found a matching jar of jelly in your refrigerator. But I’m guessing it doesn’t have rat poison in it.” Claire waited two beats, then she said, “However, I did find a canister full of concentrated rat poison in your spice shelf. Not the place that a farmer like Walter would keep it. And I’m betting it has your fingerprints all over it.”

Patty Jo ducked her head.

There was silence in the room. Claire signaled the sheriff to wait it out. She wanted to hear what Patty Jo would do with this new information.

Finally, Patty Jo breathed deeply. When her head lifted, there were tears on her face. “I’m glad you found out. I’ve hated carrying this burden with me. I’m not ashamed of what I did. I couldn’t stand to see her suffer anymore.”

What was this? Remorse? Claire shot a glance at the sheriff.

He looked back and rolled his eyes. He asked the next question. “Patty Jo, I want you to be clear about this. Are you saying that you admit that you gave Florence jelly with rat poison in it?”

Patty Jo nodded her head.

“You need to say something for the tape,” Claire reminded her.

“Yes, I did it. I make no bones about it. I did it with Walter’s blessing. He couldn’t bring himself to feed her the jelly, but he asked me to do it. It was an act of kindness. She didn’t have a life anymore, and we wanted to set her free.”

CHAPTER 26

Claire drove up the winding road to Daniel Reiner’s house. Ted Thompson sat next to her. She could see why Meg liked him. He had disgustingly long eyelashes, deep-blue eyes, and a great dimpled smile. He had been very quiet since she had picked him up from his house. His mother had asked Claire if she would take him over to the Reiners’, since Claire had met Daniel.

“How’s school going?” she asked him.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Meg said you’re reading about the Lewis and Clark expedition.”

“Yeah, I like that. I’m not as good a reader as Meg. She sure is smart.”

“She says you’re a good hunter.” Claire wished she could pull the words back. After all, his hunting skills were what had gotten him into this trouble.

Ted didn’t seem to notice. He turned to her with the first flash of excitement she had seen on his face. “Did you know that Lewis and Clark had to catch everything they ate? They ate buffalo and deer and even bear.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I’d like to try bear sometime. This one book even has recipes for how to cook it.”

“I’d like to try it too.”

“Meg doesn’t like hunting, does she?” he asked.

“Oh, Meg’s got a soft heart. She doesn’t like to see anything get hurt.”

“I guess girls are like that.”

“Some men are too.”

“My dad says that you should be respectful to the animals you hunt. Never let a wounded deer go off into the woods. You have to track it down so it doesn’t suffer.”

“That sounds like a good rule.”

“I’m sorry about the elk.”

“I know you are.”

“I’m glad he’s better.”

Claire pulled up in front of the Reiners’ house. “Here we are.”

“Is he going to yell at me?” Ted asked her anxiously.

“I doubt it.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the Reiners’ house. Daniel Reiner answered the doorbell and invited them in. Ted walked in slowly, obviously awed by the grandeur of the house.

Claire introduced them to each other and then looked down at Ted.

The boy reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded envelope. “Mr. Reiner, I’m sorry that I shot your elk. I didn’t mean to hurt it. I just wanted to scare it so it would go away.”

“That’s understandable,” Reiner said.

Ted held out the envelope. “Here’s my allowance money for the month to pay you for the vet bills.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“But my dad told me that I had to.”

Reiner took the envelope. “Well, in that case, I’ll buy the elk a bag of apples.”

“I know he likes apples,” Ted said. “Meg showed me how to feed him.”

“Would you ever be interested in doing some work for me around here?” Reiner asked him.

“Work? Like what?” Ted looked up at him.

“Oh, I often need this or that done. Loading firewood or sweeping the patio.”

“I could do that.”

“Maybe even helping out with the elk?”

“I could try.”

Reiner turned to Claire. “Think we’ll ever find out who cut the fence?”

“I doubt it. Just one of those mysteries.”

“I think I owe you again.”

“Still waiting for that cherry pie.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, Margaret looked down at her hands. They looked as old as any other part of her body. She worked them raw some days. They were often in water, and they had that crepey look old women’s hands got with the veins standing up on the back. Her hands looked the way she remembered her mother’s hands. Once in a while she thought to put cream on them at night, but often she was too tired to do anything but brush her teeth and dive into bed.

The phone rang. Margaret was afraid she knew who it was. She had talked to her lawyer earlier, and he had said he would call her back. But when they had first talked this morning, he had not sounded encouraging.

She picked the phone up on the third ring. At least Mark was out of the house right now. She could talk freely without him listening in.

Her lawyer said that, according to Wisconsin state law, Patty Jo would probably get the farm. “I’m sorry to say that even if Patty Jo is convicted or pleads guilty of killing your mother, it won’t make any difference to her inheriting your father’s estate. Only if she killed your father would that change.”

“Patty Jo kills my mother so she can marry my father and inherit his farm and it doesn’t matter?”

“If she killed your father, then she couldn’t inherit from his estate, but killing your mother, which is still only alleged, won’t matter. Yes, I know it’s not fair.”

Margaret was as close to speechless as she ever got, but she managed to conclude, “So there’s nothing more we can do. She’s going to inherit the farm and go to jail for the rest of her life.”

“Listen, from the scuttlebutt I hear from the district attorney’s office, I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t end up plea-bargaining her. From what I hear, she’ll probably get only fifteen to twenty years for killing your mom. She might easily live long enough to get out on parole. In the meantime she can go ahead with the sale of the farm, and the money will be held for her in escrow until she gets out of jail.”

“What if she dies before then?”

“I assume she’ll have her own will.”

“So it’s over.”

“We’ll see what the probate court judge does with the case, but I’m afraid it won’t go your way. I’m so sorry, Margaret.”

“Thanks for your help.” Margaret hung up the phone before he told her he was sorry again. She wanted to lie down on the floor and weep, but she needed to get herself together before Mark came home.

This stupid, horrible woman had killed her mother, claiming she’d done it as a mercy killing—which was unadulterated bullshit—and she had inherited the family farm.

The baby goat looked up from the box by the fire and bleated at her.

“I know how you feel. The world isn’t fair. Get used to it. I don’t have a mom either.” Margaret pulled a bottle out of the fridge, microwaved it, and then sank down on the floor and fed the little goat.

That was how Mark found her when he came back, almost asleep next to the baby goat. The first question out of his mouth was, “Did the lawyer call?”

Margaret thought of lying. She couldn’t bear to see the damage in his eyes, the hopeless rage that would overtake him. But she knew it would only get worse the longer he had to wait. “Yes, he called. He said that she could still get the farm. It doesn’t matter that she killed my mother. If she had killed my father, it would be a different story, but we have no proof.”

“She kills your whole blasted family, torches our property, and she gets the farm?”

“I know, Mark.” Margaret stood up and walked toward him to comfort him.

“Don’t come near me.”

She stopped, horrified. Worse than losing the farm was what the whole saga had done to him. “Mark,” she entreated.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. I’m so mad. I want to hit something. And I don’t want it to be you.”

“Mark, let me make you some lunch.”

He started pacing back and forth in the kitchen, clenching his fists and raging. “Margie, I can’t stand this. I can’t seem to stop myself. I’m afraid of what I might do. When I thought we were going to lose the farm to that rich asshole from the Cities, Reiner, I decided to let all his elk go loose. Just to get back at him.”

“You did that?” Margaret couldn’t imagine Mark doing anything that might hurt an animal.

“I didn’t shoot the elk; I just cut the fence line. They wouldn’t have gone far. It was just something to relieve what I’m feeling.” He picked up an old red bowl that her mother had given her and looked inside it as though there might be a secret there for him to read.

“She’s going to be in court today. I saw it in the
Durand Daily.
Maybe I’ll go down there and give them a piece of my mind.”

He let the bowl fall from his hands. He didn’t throw it, but it broke, nonetheless, in a rain of red shards all over the floor. He stormed out of the house, letting the door bang shut behind him. She called after him, but he didn’t even turn around. He ran to his truck, jumped in, and drove out of the yard.

Margaret checked to make sure the baby goat hadn’t been hurt by the shards. “I have to stop him.”

She looked up a number and dialed it. When a operator answered at the sheriff’s department, she asked for Claire Watkins. “I’ll transfer you.”

A moment later, Claire’s voice came on the line. “Deputy Watkins.”

“Claire, it’s Margaret. I’m sorry to bother you. . . .”

“Oh, Margaret. I was going to call you. It’s looking like Patty Jo might accept a plea bargain. She’ll be in court this afternoon. Don’t bother to come. It’ll do you no good. I’ll call when it’s over.”

“It’s about Mark.”

“Mark?”

“Well, he just stormed out of here as angry as anything, and he was talking about being at the courtroom when Patty Jo was there. I’m afraid of what he might do.”

“Do you know if he took a gun?”

“I think he might have one in the truck. You gotta stop him.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll get to him before he gets to the courtroom.”

Margaret hung up. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She thought of getting in her car and driving down to the government center, but she couldn’t stand the thought of seeing what might happen to Mark. She’d be better off waiting at the house.

She stared at the old trunk sitting under the window. It was all she had left of her father and mother. At least she had that to remember them by.

Margaret went to the trunk and opened it. The faint smell of lavender floated out of it and took her back to her childhood, when this trunk had always been in her parents’ bedroom.

Her father used to leave her surprises in a secret compartment that was tucked under the one drawer. Sometimes it was silver dollars, sometimes candy. Once he’d left her an arrowhead that he had found in the fields.

She opened up the drawer and then slid back the secret compartment. It was empty. Nothing from her father. She felt bitter disappointment. Then she realized that what she had thought was the lining was actually a piece of paper. She reached in and lifted it out. It was folded. When she opened it, she saw it was a letter from her father.

Dear Margaret,

If you are reading this, that probably means I’m dead. I always wanted to explain to you what happened with your mom. It was my fault, and I accept responsibility for it. When your mom got so sick, I didn’t want her to live like that. You understand. I talked to Patty Jo about it, and she said she would help me release your mother from her illness. She killed your mom, but I helped her do it. After we married, she kept bringing it up and said if I didn’t sign over everything to her in the will, she would tell what we had done. It was never my intention to hurt your mom. And I never wanted to hurt you. Please forgive me.

Your dad.

The letter was dated in the lower left-hand corner—five days before he had his stroke.

Margaret stood up and held the letter tightly in her hand. So Patty Jo had told the truth. Her father had helped Patty Jo kill her mother. Or rather he had known she was going to do it and hadn’t stopped her. Hard to blame him. But this letter did prove that Patty Jo had coerced her father into writing a new will. This evidence might make all the difference. She had to stop Mark. Maybe her father had left her a way to get the farm.

Claire sat outside on the front steps of the government center in the autumn sun and watched as Mark pulled up in his Chevy truck. She knew his vehicle.

He stepped out of the truck and saw her sitting there. At first it looked like he was going to try to skirt around her, go in one of the other doors, but then he changed his mind and walked straight toward her.

“Hey, Claire. You taking a break?” he asked.

Claire stood up. She was between Mark and the door. She saw no reason to pretend. “Waiting for you. Margaret called me.”

“Why’d she go and do that?”

“She doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I just wanted to check out what’s going to happen to Patty Jo.”

“I’ll let you know.”

He took a step closer, and Claire moved toward him. She was ready to get in his way if she needed to.

“What’re you doing? It’s a public building. I want to go in and watch.”

“You going to let me pat you down?”

“Since when did that start happening here?”

“Since you might be carrying a weapon.”

He looked chagrined.

“I think you should go home, Mark.”

He slumped and turned toward the truck, then bolted. He ran toward the other door. But she was closer. She cut over the lawn and reached it before him.

She stood in front of the door and patted her gun. “Let me tell you how it is. There’s two deputies stationed at the entrance to the courtroom. No way would you get by them. You’re not getting by me. If you turn around now and get back in your truck, we forget this happened. If I have to pull my gun on you, you will be under arrest for not obeying an officer. If you are arrested, this will not be taken lightly.”

“You think you have all the answers, but that woman is getting away with murder.”

“I know. But you will only hurt yourself and Margaret if you try and stop this process. We all live under the law.”

“It’s fucked.”

“It doesn’t always work the way we want it to, but it’s all we’ve got.”

“But why do I have to play by the rules when she doesn’t?”

Claire was fed up with him. “Mark, what is the matter with you? I’m sorry about all that’s happened. Patty Jo can’t mess up your life, but you can. If you don’t pull yourself together right now, you will take one giant step toward destroying yourself. Then she will continue to win.”

For a moment Claire thought she was getting through to Mark. He glanced down at the sidewalk and looked as though he was about to slink away. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her.

Claire couldn’t get her arms free, so she kicked and connected with his knee. He screamed in pain but wouldn’t let go of her. She slammed her head into his face and then he fell over, pulling her down with him.