Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

many friends all over the world, as do Kenneth and Lillian. I think it best to let people know. It would be terrible to have someone inquire as to Bradley’s well-being at some later date and bring up all the pain, not to mention the embarrassment it would cause to the person asking.”
    “Chantal said you have your contacts in a database program.”
    “I do. You can print a list of addresses but I’d like you to address the envelopes by hand. The printer will bring the announcements by this afternoon. Lovely man. He’s really doing a rush job for us. I’m sorry, Alex, to give you such a simple, mindless task, but...”
    Mrs. Brissart slumped in her chair and I ran around the desk to her side. “There now, Mrs. Brissart. Would you like to go rest for a bit? I can handle everything in here.” My voice caught. I too had tears in my eyes. The woman’s pain and the death of someone so young took their toll.
    “I think perhaps a walk around the garden would do me a world of good. Would you mind coming with me, Alex?”
    “Of course.” Death announcements could wait.
    Mrs. Brissart got a sweater from a closet near the front hall and put it on over her simple but elegant navy blue dress. We went out into the garden from a door near the kitchen.
    The back yard, though large, was very simply laid out, much like the house. We went down the wooden steps, Mrs. Brissart taking my arm, and walked along a tiny path following the perimeter of the land. A hint of a breeze brought the undeniable smell of the ocean.
    We passed several large lilacs, dogwoods, and bushes with yellow flowers with a name I could never remember. Several hydrangea bushes surrounded a bench and I immediately thought of Martha Stewart and her penchant for dried flowers.
    We walked in silence for a bit and came to a small area obviously used as a vegetable and herb garden. Mrs. Brissart told me that during the summer they grew their own mint to use for fresh iced tea along with an assortment of fresh basil, parsley, and an array of vegetables. She pointed out different shrubs and trees as we walked, all having some kind of history, until we reached an old, large oak with a tree house.
    Mrs. Brissart tilted her head and looked up. “That was Bradley’s. He built it when he was, oh, let me think, probably about nine or ten. His mother was scared to death to let him climb up so high,” she gave a little laugh, “but, well, I had been a terrible tomboy, much to my poor mother’s dismay, and I knew all too well the lure of your own private place.” She looked off remembering some far away thoughts.
    “He loved to come out here. Still did, sometimes. He went up that tree on Monday. Even in the winter.” She started to walk again holding gently onto my arm. “He spent a lot of time here. My son traveled a lot and wanted Lillian by his side. In summer, the boys went along. Got to see a lot of the world, but if it was during the school year, they came here. And I loved it!” She looked up at me with a big smile showing impeccable teeth for someone her age.
    “Mr. Kaminski, our gardener, helped Bradley and Stuart with the tree house. He’s taking Bradley’s death very hard, Mr. Kaminski. He loved those boys. And they him. Especially Stuart. Stuart was never close to his parents. Oh, they got on fine, but I suspect Stuart always knew Bradley was the favorite. But he loved Ralph Kaminski. Still does.”
    “Is Stuart younger or older than Bradley?” I asked.
    “Older. By two years. Ah, Stuart. No two people could be so different. I ran into him on Saturday when I went to by the ingredients for the cookies. Stuart needed a few things for some get-together he was having that night. He likes to entertain or go out. Not like Bradley who preferred staying at home. Do you have a sister? Oh, of course you do, Samantha. Are you two alike?”
    “In some ways. We do have our differences but basically we have the same values.”
    “Well, Bradley and Stuart are like oil and water. Don’t mix. They got along fine but never shared any hobbies. It’s not that they argued are anything, they just had different friends and different interests. Money is more important to Stuart. Our family, well, we have money, that’s no secret, and it’s made things easy, but sometimes I don’t think it’s a good thing to have so much and not have to earn it.”
    “Your family’s wealth didn’t seem to affect Bradley the same way from what I know.”
    “No, it