“He said it was all about the probate and due process and that he would let me know as soon as he could. Also he hasn’t given me any figures, as the property needs to be sold, and there are outstanding bills to be paid by her estate first.”
“It’s still worth checking to see if he might give you something up front to help out.”
She shrugged. “I mean, if I have to keep going without,” she said, “it will be fine for a few more months, I guess.”
“What about Wendy?”
“I have to wait another week, I think, to get the next consignment check,” she said, “They are coming, although not as big as the first one. Still, hopefully they’ll be enough to keep me going for a few more months.” She shook her head. “After that, well, I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, “because a lot can happen in those weeks.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just become more of a habit to worry than not.”
“And I get it,” he said, “but you’re doing okay, honestly?”
“I guess so.” She looked at the huge bunches of yellow and purple pansies nearby and walked closer. “These are really pretty.” A big pile of dead ones was in the center though. She frowned. “Except for these guys. They need some care. Is this a city park?”
“Yes, so the city gardeners look after it. When they can…”
She nodded, then walked closer to where the dead plants were and noted powdery stuff all around the base of it. “It looks like something was dumped here, something toxic—to the plants anyway.”
“Don’t touch the stuff then.”
She stepped back, looked down at her feet, then winced. “I better go rinse off.” She headed to the water, swooshed her feet around a little to clean them off, and then she came back out. “You know, Mack. If families come here, you might want to get that cleaned up.”
He looked at the flowers. “Do you think it’s bad news?”
She shrugged. “It killed the pansies. I know we haven’t had any rain lately, but the rest of the flowers look okay. It’s just that one spot. And it’s not doing much for the plants. I’d hate to see a kid or some pets get into it. It gave me a tingly feeling on my toes.”
At that, he frowned, then hopped up and walked over to take a closer look. “A partially buried box is in the sand here.” He took a closer look at it and frowned. “Rat poison.”
She looked up at him. “Why would somebody put that here?”
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why they put it here. They shouldn’t have. This is a public site.” He made a quick phone call. “We should get this cleaned up in no time.”
She nodded. “So please tell me there haven’t been any current deaths by poisoning.” He stared at her, so she shrugged. “I mean, if you ran here, and you had a murder weapon in your hand,” she said, “what better place than to toss it into a garden, where nobody will see it?”
He looked at her, then at the flower bed. “Crap.”
She stared at him. “What?”
“We’ve been keeping it under wraps,” he said, “but two days ago we had a man walk into the hospital, saying he’d been poisoned. He was admitted immediately, but he didn’t make it.”
She stared at Mack. “Poisoned … in the pansies?”
He squeezed his eyes shut, then glared at her. “No! And again it’s not a cold case, so you stay out of it.”
She frowned, but inside she was like, Poisoned in the Pansies. Perfect. And she grinned at him. “Of course I’ll stay out of your case.”
He glared at her, while she just beamed. “At least until I can’t.”
And then she burst out laughing.
Chapter 1
Next Day, Monday Afternoon, Early August
Doreen Montgomery kept looking at her watch, knowing that Corporal Mack Moreau would show up any moment. Her mind buzzed with questions. They’d spent most of Sunday together, until their plans had been completely kiboshed when he got another call in. Curious, and yet determined to find out, she’d asked him about that call several times, when they had talked throughout the day, but he wouldn’t give her any answers.
Of course he wouldn’t, which meant it was a current case. Of course it was. He didn’t deal with cold cases, unless she dumped them in his lap.
She almost laughed at that because dumping things in his lap was something she had become pretty good at. And, so far, he’d been absolutely great at picking up the ball and helping her out. But she also knew that his hands were tied more often than not, and he just couldn’t do some things. Which is also when she tended to jump in without him to get done what she needed. But, at this point in time, she wanted to know if his current case was connected to what they had found at Sarsons Beach Park.
She had driven back early this morning, but the box of poison was gone. Now she was relieved, but, at the same time, she wanted an update. She looked down at Mugs, who sat ever-so-attentively at her side, staring at her lunch. “It’s a salad. I’m getting better in the kitchen, but I’m surely not to that point where I’m cooking your meals, buddy.”
Mugs woofed at her.
She laughed, walked over to the cupboard, and found the dog treats. As soon as she pulled out the bag, Goliath sauntered forward, and Thaddeus—who’d been sleeping on the roost nearby in the living room—immediately opened his eyes. “Thaddeus is here. Thaddeus is here.”
She laughed and added affectionately, “You’re all here, idjit.”
He cocked his head at her, opened one eye, and just gave her that gimlet stare. He’d been doing that more often, especially whenever she gave him a term that he didn’t particularly like.
“Fine, okay.” She rolled her eyes. “I apologize for calling you an idjit.” Not sure he understood the apology part. He still glared at her. She shook her head and chuckled. “I don’t know if I’ve told you lately, guys, but you have certainly enriched my life.”
At that, Mugs woofed again.
Doreen stood here, staring at them, a questioning look on her face. Meanwhile, Mugs nudged her hand, waiting for the treats there. “Oh, right.” She laughed at the situation. She was calling them idiots, when she was one too, it seemed.
At least she could laugh about it and now knew, with her growing self-confidence, to acknowledge that she was smart enough when needed. She bent down and gave Mugs a treat and then walked over and pulled out treats for Goliath. After she gave him one, Mugs raced over and barked, looking for another treat.
“No.” She shook her head. “You just got your treat. And you know that Goliath and Thaddeus also get treats of their own, right?”
Mugs just gave her the most mournful look, with those huge brown eyes of his, and she felt her heart starting to melt. But she shook her head. “No. I know Mack is coming, and he’s likely to give you treats too.” She sighed. “We have to consider our budget and must also keep that waistline of yours somewhat in check.”
Of course that just reminded her that they hadn’t been for much of a W—walk—today. And she’d gotten to the point of saying W these days, even in her mind, because not only did Mugs understand the word but Goliath did also, and so did Thaddeus now. Sometimes she thought Thaddeus could read her mind because, even now, he hopped up and looked at her. “Walk, walk, walk.”