“It ties the nephew to the poisonous plant—don’t you see?” she insisted.
Beau took a long breath. “It ties a green substance to both the envelope and the kitchen of the house, Sam. First, we’d need a lab analysis to verify that the green is from deathcamas. And, we still don’t know that the uncle didn’t pick those plants himself and carry them into the house. He might have sat at that kitchen table to write out the will.”
Sam bristled. How could she explain the feeling she got when she touched that envelope?
“Sam, it doesn’t prove any kind of foul play by the nephew. Don’t you see that I wouldn’t have anything at all that I could take to a prosecutor? I’m in my office today,” he said. “Bring me the envelope with the will and I’ll see what kind of tests we can run on it. Maybe we can get someone to analyze the signature, if nothing else.”
Fifteen minutes later, she’d hopped in her truck and was on her way downtown to the Sheriff’s Department. All the way there, she debated what to say. In the end she decided the whole truth was the only way.
“Can we talk privately?” she asked as soon as he appeared.
“Sure.” He ushered her out into a small courtyard. They sat on concrete benches in the shade.
She laid out the whole story, starting with the day that Bertha Martinez had given her the wooden box. “The rumors you heard about her being a witch. I’m beginning to think maybe they were true,” she said. “How else can I explain the weird stuff that’s been happening to me ever since I got that box?” He leaned back, letting her finish the story.
She told him that she’d not noticed the green marks in the Cantone house that first day—probably because she’d hardly touched the box—but on other occasions when she’d actually rubbed her hands over the box she’d been almost hyper-aware, seeing the green residue.
“That’s what happened this morning, Beau. The day I found this envelope I hadn’t handled the box. Today, after I touched it, the marks became as clear as anything.”
“And you still see them now?” he asked, holding it up.
“Yes! They’re almost brilliant green.”
To his credit, he didn’t laugh and he didn’t freak out and leave her sitting there. He shook his head slowly and she felt disheartened. He noticed her expression. “Sam, it’s not that I don’t believe you. I know you to be honest and sincere. It’s just that this isn’t something we can use to build a case. The prosecutor would laugh me out of his office,
He was right of course. She knew that.
“But you could build a case based on lab proof that the poisonous plant toxin was in the house and on the will. And I’ll bet it’s the same plant toxin the lab showed in Cantone’s body. Please, Beau, please come out there with me. I’ll show you where it is and you gather the evidence.”
She felt his hesitation. “What?”
“I’m supposed to be working on this other case now.” He lowered his voice. “Padilla is already hassling me about this. It’s an election year. He’s a political animal and he knows his chances of being re-elected hinge on people’s perception that crime is under control. If a death can be ruled an accident and quietly filed away, that’s how he wants it. If a case gets sent to the prosecutor, it better be a damn strong one—something that makes Padilla look good.”
“But surely he doesn’t want people getting away with murder! If we could get the evidence . . .”
He gave a thin smile. “It would be a start. But as I’ve told you before, we would have to prove that the nephew administered the poison and we’d have to prove intent to kill his uncle.”
“But at least it’s something,” she said. “I can’t stand the idea of that poor old man dying such a horrible death and this greedy nephew burying him in a hidden grave and walking away with a fortune.”
“I agree about that,” he said. “The whole thing really stinks.”
He stood up and they walked back to the office. “Okay. An hour, tops. I’ll say it’s my lunch break. Let me get a lab technician to come with us. The other thing we have to do here is make sure that there are more than just the two of us gathering this evidence. You’re already going to have some explaining to do about how you got that envelope from Killington’s house. And if all the evidence comes from my girlfriend, that’s another thing a defense attorney will jump on like a dog on a bone.”
He’d picked up the phone and punched a two-digit intercom extension. “Lisa, can you take your lunch break now? I need you to bring your lab kit and come with me. Five minutes, my office.”
While they waited for Lisa, Beau stared at the envelope Sam had handed him.
“You still see green all over this?” he asked.
“You don’t? Nothing at all?”
“It looks like a white envelope and the page inside looked like plain old paper,” he said. “Sam, I’m so sorry I can’t verify it for you.”
She gave a dispirited shrug. What else could she say? She didn’t want this ability to see and feel things that no one else could experience, and she knew they couldn’t be expected to believe her just because she said so. She suddenly realized that her life would never be the same, as long as she possessed that damned wooden box.
Chapter 23
Beau followed her red truck out the county road and up to the Cantone property. Sam waited as he and Lisa got out of his cruiser, then she unlocked the front door and led the way into the house. The place smelled of loneliness. She tried to imagine how it must have been when Cantone first moved in. Had he immediately set up his work area and begun some new paintings? Had the house held a vibrancy because of the old man’s creative energy? If so, it was gone now.
“Take your time and tell me each place we should test,” Beau said.
Sam wondered how much of her story he’d explained to Lisa on the way out here. The tall girl with cropped dark hair and pale skin didn’t comment on anything. She set the lab kit down on the living room floor and opened the lid, busying herself by pulling out some bottles and swabs. A stack of small evidence envelopes went in one pocket of the apron she’d put on.
Sam walked slowly through the living room, finding one semi-circular green mark on an end table.
“Here,” she said. “It’s about the size and shape that a wet drinking glass might make.” The green was much more vivid than what she’d seen on the envelope with the will in it.
Lisa took a clean swab and ran it over the area Sam indicated, then placed the swab into one of the little envelopes.
They moved on into the dining room, but Sam didn’t spot any marks there. The kitchen was just as she’d left it the last time—green swipe marks on the table and countertop. Faint traces showed near the drain, and Sam remembered washing dishes there, running quite a lot of water down the drain as she cleaned the place. She was amazed that any residue was left at all, she told Beau.
On to the bedrooms. In Cantone’s room she didn’t find any trace of the green. A glance toward the open closet reminded her that she still needed to get some paint and cover the drywall patch where they’d cut the small mural out. In the second bedroom her pulse quickened.
“Beau, it’s all over the place in here.”
“Do any of them look like fingerprints?” Lisa asked. “Point those out to me.”
Bless the girl, Sam thought. She didn’t question.
Sam spotted green prints at the light switch and on the back edge of the door. Lisa quickly pressed fingerprint tape over them and lifted them off.
“Here’s something that could be a handprint,” Sam said. “Well, part of one.”
She showed them the area and Lisa lifted that as well.
“Some of the smudges on the furniture are blurry. Probably my fault. When I cleaned the house I dusted everything.” She looked up at Beau. “Sorry. I didn’t see the marks that first day.”
