Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

from…well, I can’t remember exactly,” I explained, not wishing to cause Marsha any grief. “I take it you still haven’t forgiven her.”
    “Forgiven her? Never! After she lured Charles away from me, I entered into a most unsatisfying marriage. I lived a hellish existence until the day my husband died. It’s all Roberta’s fault. And she won’t let me forget about it, I tell you. Throws it in my face every chance she gets.” June’s face turned a nice shade of hot pink, which actually looked good in the room.
    I began to wonder if the deceased husband actually died of cancer and how long after being buried could a forensic expert tell if poison had a hand in the death. “I’m sorry for your difficulties with your sister, but aren’t you the least bit concerned by Bradley’s death? Don’t you want to see the person responsible caught? You seem more concerned with the sale of the land and getting revenge.”
    June’s complexion gradually began to return to her normal pasty color. “Of course I’m concerned. Whoever killed Bradley could attack any one of us at any time. Indian Cove is becoming more and more like New York.” June sighed and her shoulders slumped. “Of course I care who killed Bradley. I cared about the boy as much as anyone.”
    It was the first sign of compassion I witnessed from one of the sisters.
    “The night everyone went to Mrs. Brissart’s, did you all leave at the same time?”
    “Of course. May and I walked out together,” June said in a normal tone, having regained her composure.
    “Did anyone go back into the house for any reason?”
    “As a matter of fact, I did. That vile tea Virginia serves made my stomach queasy. I went back in for a moment to use the facilities. If anyone else went back in, I never saw them.”
    “I had the chance to speak with your daughter. I understand she went on Monday evening. Does she share your enthusiasm for this project?”
    “Well, she had b— Yes, I’m sure she does,” June corrected herself.
    “I never got the chance to ask what she does for a living.”
    “Marsha dabbles in various ventures. She owned a small dress shop in town, but with the malls springing up all around us like weeds, I’m afraid it didn’t do well.” I tried to remember if a mall was planned for the land and made a mental note to ask J.T. “Right now, she’s working at the library,” June continued. “Plus she has her hands full with two teenagers. She’s an excellent mother.” An image of Donald and Susan came to mind and I wondered if “excellent” was a word they would use when describing their mother.
    “Mrs. Doliveck, you must realize it seems almost a certainty that someone in the immediate family is responsible for Bradley’s death.”
    “I realize no such thing! And I’ve told the police as much. As I’ve mentioned on many occasions, with the door left unlocked it’s possible for almost anyone to walk in. And as far as that person or persons just happening to have some poison in their possession, well, why not? The world is becoming an increasingly dangerous place filled with drug crazed weirdoes.”
    Not being able to remember the last time, if ever, I heard of someone snorting cyanide, I asked, “How did you meet Mr. Smit?”
    The entrance of Mr. Smit into the conversation soothed June.
    “I met him at a local charity event. If my sister would just give him half a chance she would see the plans he has for the land would be a tremendous boost for the area. He’s really quite talented.”
    “So I’ve heard.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I just said Mrs. Brissart likes the area just as it is.” Not able to think of anything else, I stood to leave. I felt confident if June knew where to find some poison, she would have no qualms about putting a bit in her sister’s culinary delights. I extended my hand to the woman. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Doliveck. You’ve been very helpful.”
    “I haven’t told you anything I haven’t already told that very handsome detective. You should just ask him. I assure you, Miss Harris, once this unfortunate incident is behind us, I will reconvene the family. I feel confident that Roberta is about to crack,” June said returning to her old self, the morsel of compassion she briefly displayed long gone.
    I, who had not been prone to violence since my sister decapitated one of my stuffed animals more than thirty years before, almost smacked the woman across the face. I got back into my car and