Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

I’m hoping her friends in London will be able to help her.” Mrs. Brissart reached for a spoon of sugar but her hand, shaking so badly, dropped the crystals onto the carpet. “I am trying so hard. We all are. But it’s not working. I’ve seen death before. You don’t get to be my age without watching family and friends pass away, but my grandson.” Mrs. Brissart put her head into her hands and wept softly as Chantal held the poor woman. She looked at me over Mrs. Brissart’s head; her own eyes had tears in them.
    A few minutes later, Mrs. Brissart raised her tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry, girls. If you’ll excuse me.” Mrs. Brissart stood up and walked slowly down the hall, her shoulders bent forward.
    I got down on my knees to wipe the sugar off the carpet using a napkin dampened with a bit of water from the kettle. “Chantal, do you know if Bradley told Mrs. Brissart anything about the family history before he died?”
    “Like what?”
    “I don’t know exactly. Kendra stopped by my office yesterday. She’s going to New Hampshire for a while.”
    “Yes. She told us. She came by here yesterday as well to say good-bye. I wasn’t scheduled to work, but I just wanted to check and see if Mrs. Brissart or Lillian needed anything.”
    “Well, she said Bradley found out something interesting with regard to the family history. From what he said she thought it was something good, but he didn’t elaborate. All he said was he needed to do a bit more checking.”
    “I don’t remember him telling Mrs. Brissart anything specific, though he could have when I wasn’t around. She hasn’t said anything. The stuff I typed for him didn’t seem to have anything special in it as far as family histories go.”
    “Alex, you didn’t need to clean that up.” Mrs. Brissart came back into the living room having rinsed her face and combed her hair.
    “There. It’s all done.” I got up from the floor. “Mrs. Brissart, I was just asking Chantal about the family history.”
    “I haven’t given that a thought since Bradley died. I guess it’ll never get written up properly now.”
    “Did Bradley say anything to you about finding something specific? You told John he wanted to talk and you never got a chance, but did he say anything at all?”
    “Yes, that’s right,” added Chantal. “He did mention wanting to speak with you, Mrs. Brissart, but you asked if it could wait until later.”
    Mrs. Brissart thought a moment. “That’s correct. He said it was fascinating or interesting or some such. I think he may have used the word disturbing . But I was right in the middle of baking those cookies. And that’s as far as we got, as I mentioned before. We never had another chance for him to elaborate. Or me to listen,” Mrs. Brissart added softly.
    “Disturbing. Hmmm. I’m sure Kendra said he was happy about it,” I said feeling a bit perplexed.
    I watched the old woman. She really did have lovely skin. I gazed into Mrs. Brissart’s crystal blue eyes, only slightly clouded from her recent crying spell. Could she have killed her grandson? Was John right? But if she did, why would she admit just now that Bradley found out something disturbing? Wouldn’t that be a tip-off? I didn’t have any answers.
    “Well, I could certainly be wrong,” Mrs. Brissart added, “I’m not too well lately, as you’ve noticed. Now with all this nonsense about May...”
    Just then the front bell rang. Mrs. Brissart got up to go answer it. meeting Mrs. Platz in the hall. “It’s okay, Virginia, I’ve got it.” Mrs. Platz joined her by the door anyway.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Brissart, Mrs. Platz.” I recognized John’s voice. “May we come in?”
    “Certainly, Detectives.” Mrs. Platz took the two coats and John and Jim followed Mrs. Brissart into the living room. “We were just having something to drink and talking.”
    John said good morning to Chantal and gave my shoulder a soft pat. “Mrs. Brissart, I’m so sorry about your sister. I wanted to come by last night, but it got to be too late.”
    “I’m sure my sister kept you quite busy. June called me in a complete uproar about police brutality, but I thought a bit would do both of them good.”
    “John,” I said. “Exactly what happened? Did she confess?”
    John pulled up a small, upholstered footstool and sat close to Mrs. Brissart while Jim lingered behind, as usual.
    “Not at first. But when we confronted her with the evidence, she actually became