I Is for Innocent

this one magenta. Her walking shoes seemed to flash with short strips of reflecting tape, the pristine leather uppers sprinkled with clippings from the mown grass.
    "What are you doing out here?" Her voice was low, and in the half light her face was gray with fatigue. Her platinum-blond hair was as stiff as a wig.
    "I was looking for the toadstools that were here the first time I came."
    "The gardener came yesterday. I had him mow all of this."
    "What'd he do with the clippings?"
    "Why do you ask?"
    "Morley Shine was murdered."
    "I'm sorry to hear that." Her tone was perfunctory.
    "Really?" I said. "You didn't seem to like him much."
    "I didn't like him at all. He smelled like someone who drank and smoked, which I don't approve of. You still haven't explained what you're doing on my property."
    "Have you ever heard of Amanita phalloides?"
    "A type of toadstool, I presume."
    "A poisonous mushroom of the type that killed Morley."
    "The gardener puts the clippings in a big heap over there. When the pile gets big enough, he loads up his truck and takes it all to the dump. If you like, you can have the crime lab come haul it away for analysis."
    "Morley was a good investigator."
    "I'm sure he was. What's that got to do with it?"
    "I suspect he was murdered because he knew the truth."
    "About Isabelle's murder?"
    "Among other things. You want to tell me why you sent a four-hundred-dollar check to Curtis McIntyre?"
    That seemed to stump her. "Who told you that?"
    "I saw the check."
    She was silent for a full thirty seconds, a very long time in ordinary conversation. Reluctantly she said, "He's my grandson. Not that it's any of your business."
    "Curtis?" I said with such incredulity that she seemed to take offense.
    "You don't need to say it like that. I know the boy's faults perhaps better than you."
    "I'm sorry, but I never in this world would have linked you with him," I said.
    "Our only daughter died when he was ten. We promised her we'd raise him as well as we could. Curtis's father was unbearably common, I'm afraid. A criminal and a misfit. He disappeared when Curt was eight and we haven't heard a word from him since. When it comes to nature versus nurture, it's plain that nature prevails. Or perhaps we failed in some vital way...." Her voice trailed off. "Is that how he got involved in all this?"
    "This what?"
    "He was set to testify in the civil suit against David Barney. Did you talk to him about the murder?"
    She rubbed her forehead. "I suppose."
    "Do you remember if he was staying with you at the time?"
    "I don't see what that has to do with anything."
    "Do you happen to know where he is at the moment?"
    "I haven't any idea."
    "Somebody picked him up at his motel a little while ago." She continued to stare at me. "Please. Just tell me what you want and then leave me alone."
    "Where's Peter? Is he here?"
    "He was admitted to the hospital late this afternoon. He's had another heart attack. He's in the cardiac care unit. If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to go in now. I came home for a bite of supper. I have some phone calls to make and then I have to go back to the hospital. They're not sure he's going to make it this time."
    "I'm sorry," I said. "I had no idea."
    "It doesn't matter now. Nothing really matters much."
    I watched with uneasiness as she tramped back across the grass, her wet shoes leaving partial prints on the concrete. She looked shrunken and old. I suspected she was a woman who would follow her mate into death within months. She unlocked the back door and let herself in. The kitchen light went on. As soon as she was out of sight, I began to cross the grass, my flashlight picking up occasional fragments of white. I hunkered, brushing aside a clump of grass clippings. Under it was a scant portion of mower-chopped toadstool – less than a tablespoon from the look of it. The chances of its being A. phalloides seemed remote, but in the interest of thoroughness I took a folded tissue from my jacket pocket and carefully wrapped the specimen.
    I went back to my car, feeling somewhat unsettled. I was reasonably sure I understood now how Curtis had gotten involved in the case. Maybe he'd heard the jail talk among informants and had approached Kenneth Voigt after the acquittal came down. Or maybe Ken had heard from the Weidmanns that Curtis had been jailed with David Barney. He might well have approached Curtis with the suggestion about his trumped-up testimony. I wasn't sure Curtis was smart enough to