Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

yes. But I’m not alone in that desire.”
    I nodded several times. “No. No you are not. But you must see with so many people wanting Mrs. Brissart to sell, the logical reasoning would indicate the murderer must be a member of the family.”
    “I see no such thing, Miss Harris. J.T. is not a member of our family. And neither is Kendra.”
    “Why would Kendra want to kill Mrs. Brissart?.”
    May clearly became flustered. “Maybe I’m wrong. Perhaps it was dear Bradley they wanted dead, though I’m sure the police tend to think otherwise.”
    No one seemed to know that John had been looking at Mrs. Brissart as a suspect and I was not about to divulge this bit of news.
    “And as I’ve said before, any one at all could have walked into that house. Roberta, with her penchant for leaving things unlocked…” May shook her head in disgust, not bothering to finish her sentence. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Miss Harris, but do you suspect me of killing Bradley?”
    In the last few days I had asked a lot of people a lot of questions and somehow no one had managed to put me on the spot as May just had. It was a good question. Did I think she killed Bradley?
    “Well, to be quite truthful, Mrs. Estenfelder, I don’t know who the killer is.” I wasn’t trying to be diplomatic here; I truly had no idea. “I guess that’s the reason I’ve been asking questions.”
    “Bothering everyone, from what I gather, is more like it. You even managed to question my granddaughter. You can’t honestly suspect her, can you? Doesn’t have the brain God gave a grape, that one.”
    “I think you’re mistaken about Trish.” I know I had been.
    “You mean to say she killed Bradley?” May asked with the hand firmly over her chest again.
    “No. No. Not at all,” I said quickly hoping to forestall a fainting spell. “I just don’t agree with your perception of Trish. I think you underestimate her. I may be able to find her something, a job, through my agency.”
    May relaxed a bit. “Oh. Well that would be nice. The girl spends entirely too much time alone in that house.”
    “Mrs. Estenfelder I’d like to get back to my questions.”
    “Yes, I’m sure you would, and I just wonder if that detective of yours knows what you’re doing.”
    I figured the minute I left the house, May would be calling the police and blabbing. Maybe I should see if I could spend the night with Sam so John couldn’t find me. But as long as I was here and she wasn’t reaching for the phone—yet, I had to ask my questions. After today, I probably wouldn’t have another chance.
    “Did you come directly home on Monday evening?”
    “Yes I did. And don’t bother to ask if I can prove it because I live alone. June and J.T. dropped me off. But I assure you, I did not sneak back to Roberta’s with a vial of poison.”
    I raised my eyebrows, both of them as I didn’t possess the talent of raising just one in a menacing, accusatory way. I probably looked more surprised.
    “And no, I didn’t have one with me to begin with either.”
    “Do you know about the feud between your two sisters over Charles?”
    “How do you know about that?” May asked, her anger rising dangerously high.
    “It came out during my questionings.”
    May stood up and glared down at me. “Well, I demand to know who told you. There are some things that are private, young lady, and have nothing whatsoever to do with Bradley’s death.”
    “How do you know that?”
    “How dare you! Are you accusing June of killing Bradley?”
    “No. I just wonder if she tried to kill Roberta,” I said evenly.
    “This all happened a long time ago. How dare you bring my sister’s hurt out in the open?”
    “Well, it might have happened a long time ago, but with Charles just dying and June finding out he still cared for her all these years, well, it could’ve sparked June to take revenge.”
    May put one hand firmly on her hip and the other pointing to the door. “Get out! And I’m calling that detective of yours right now!” How dare you hurt my family like this. Get out, I said.”
    I left the house quicker than I thought myself capable of, unfortunately with no blender safely tucked in my purse. As I reached the corner I could see in my rearview mirror Detective Maroni pulling into May’s driveway, having come from the other direction. The jig was up, as they say. At least my jig was up. May would blab to him and he would be on his cell phone telling John to be on the