Fruit of the Poisoned Tree

but it was too late. “I knew it! I shouldn’t have trusted you!”

The phone rang as she began picking up the pieces of the lamp. Shakespeare snuffled her head as she worked. She sat on the floor, shooed him away, and answered the persistent summons.

“Dr. Lee?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My name is Alan Richards. I’m the head of forensics at the University of Iowa Hospital at Dubuque. I received a message that you were interested in one of my cases. I’m sorry it’s taken a while for me to get back with you. We’ve had a bad flu season this year.”

“Sorry to hear that. Yes, that’s right.” She struggled to get to her feet, pushing Shakespeare out of the way as he lay down on her. “If you could give me a moment to get to my desk, Dr. Richards.”

“Of course. I’ve read some of your work on poisons, Dr. Lee. It’s exciting to speak with you. We don’t get many poisonings. At least not of this type. Once in a while, a child will drink bleach or eat some fertilizer, you know. It happens. But this is something out of the ordinary, isn’t it? How did you find out about the case?”

Peggy made it to her desk and pulled out a yellow legal pad while she hunted for a pen. The only one she could find was half-eaten. “I read about it in the newspaper. Have you been able to identify the toxin Mr. Hollings ingested?”

“As a matter of fact, we just found out this morning that the substance is horse chestnut honey. We determined that the patient ingested a large quantity in a few hours prior to being admitted. I don’t know if this is an accident or something else. I’ve called in the police. Unfortunately, Mr. Hollings died during the night from complications.”

Her heart raced. Maybe she was on to something. She could hear Shakespeare chewing behind her. She glanced back and groaned. He had her chenille bathrobe, the one John gave her for her birthday the year he died. “Put that down!” She got up and shoved the dog away. Too late. There was already a large hole in the back. She stifled the urge to scream and locked the whining dog in the bathroom.

“Dr. Lee? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Dr. Richards. I’m having some problems with my dog. I apologize. Please go on. I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Hollings.”

“I understand. I have a puppy, too. She’s a shepherd.” He laughed. “I’ve had a time with her.”

“I wish my monster was a puppy. He’s a fully grown Great Dane, and he’s decided to behave like a rebellious teenager.”

“I’ve heard training works wonderfully for some cases,” he advised. “Of course, not every dog responds. Sometimes you just have to get rid of them.”

“Well, I hope it won’t come to that.” She took a deep breath and pushed her hair out of her face. “As to the poisoning . . .”

“Yes, of course.” He shuffled his papers. “We think Mr. Hollings ingested the honey at home. The police are checking it out. He ate almost an entire jar of it and lapsed into a coma before his organs failed. He had congenital heart disease, which may have contributed to his death. The CDC might get involved with this. We don’t know yet if this is an isolated case or something more widespread.”

“Do you have a sample of the honey? Do you know where it came from?”

“Let me see.” He checked his notes. “Yes. It came from a small town in California. The label on the jar says Yellow Hills. Are you working on this case, Dr. Lee?”

“Please call me Peggy. I’m working on a similar case.” She told him about Park and the honey at the hotel. “Could you check and see if the Yellow Hills honey came from a hotel in Philadelphia? Do you know what Mr. Hollings’s occupation was?

“He was an attorney,” he responded. “I’ll check with Mr. Hollings’s family and try to find out where the jar of honey came from. If this is true, we could have a major epidemic on our hands. Maybe there’s more poisoned honey being produced. Perhaps the honey growers need to be alerted.”

Peggy made notes. “That may be true, although here in Charlotte, we have a second death linked to the first that has nothing to do with honey. I’m sure the police will want to ask questions and follow up. They should get an idea of who’s involved quickly. I’d appreciate it if you would keep me updated. Do you have my e-mail address?”

“Yes I do, Peggy. Thanks for your input. I’ll let you know what happens. Please keep me advised about your situation as well. And call me Alan.”

“Thanks, Alan. Maybe if we work together, we can find out what’s going on. I’ll let you know if we learn anything else here.” Peggy hung up the phone thoughtfully. She glanced at her notes. She’d have to take them to Al this morning. The police should know the poisoning might be more widespread than just Park. It could get Beth out of trouble as well. At least for Park’s death. The DA could still contend that Beth killed Isabelle just to keep the old lady from making any more accusations.

She walked into the bathroom and found soap and bubble bath spread everywhere over chewed-up towels. “Shakespeare! What have you done?”

BETH WAS PALE AND tightly poised in the crowded courtroom. Her hair was pulled back from her thin face that was devoid of makeup, and her black suit was demure. She looked young and helpless, more like a grieving widow than a killer.

When her name and case number were called, Hunter and David stood up for the defense and pled not guilty on Beth’ s behalf. They gave their summation of their client’s innocence after the damning words from the assistant district attorney. “We ask for the court to release Mrs. Lamonte on her own recognizance. She holds no threat to the community and is an active member of many charities and other groups that benefit the city. She was born in this area, has two children who reside here, and has lifelong ties to Charlotte. She doesn’t pose a flight risk.”

The judge looked at the young ADA in the ill-fitting brown suit who consulted his file and shook his head. “We disagree with counsel for the defense, Your Honor. Both of these acts were heinous and perpetrated solely and coldly for profit. We ask for no bail.”

“Your Honor,” Hunter argued. “The defendant is the mother of two small children. She isn’t going anywhere and isn’t guilty of these crimes.”

“Save the arguments for court, Counsel,” the judge advised. “Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars.” She banged the gavel and moved on to the next case.

“Your Honor, Gary Rusch for the defense.” The senior attorney glided to the front of the courtroom. He wore his conservative gray suit and white shirt like a fashion model. Heads turned at his entrance. “If I may? Mr. Lamonte’s former associates at Lamonte, Rusch and Peterson would like to stand bail for Mrs. Lamonte as a testimony to our belief in her innocence.”

“That’s fine, Mr. Rusch. I’m sure you know how it’s done. Next case.” The judge purposefully turned away.

Peggy was surprised and pleased by the move. She watched from the back of the courtroom as Beth hugged her savior. There was that disturbing intimacy again between them that bothered Peggy. It seemed to be one- sided. Beth didn’t cling to Gary, but he bent his head close to hers and brushed his hand across her cheek. Was there something else Beth hadn’t told her?

Beth was led away by a guard and wasn’t released until about an hour later. Peggy waited inside the courthouse for her. The press was everywhere outside, snapping pictures and demanding answers from the district attorney. Beth’s father was waiting with a car around the side, hoping to get his daughter away from their prying eyes.

Peggy led the way when she saw Beth walk out of the holding area. “Let’s duck out the side entrance.”

Beth was still in shock. “This is unbelievable, Peggy. Not only have I been charged with Park’s death but Isabelle’s, too. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can go through this.”

“You let us worry about that,” Gary told her, joining them with Hunter and David at his side. “We’ll take care of it. David assures me this kind of incompetence won’t continue.”

“Incompetence?” Beth frowned. “I thought they were fine.”

“They should have been able to get you out on your own recognizance. But David will try harder next time, right son?”

“Yes! I’m sorry I was incompetent, Mrs. Lamonte.”