Coldwater Revenge James Ross (best fantasy books to read TXT) 📖

Christmas decorations using something called Rosary Pea. After the leaves fell off you could string the peas together to make a rosary.”

“Same plant,” said Tom. “Did they warn the moms to keep the beads away from the kids?”

“Now that you mention it, yes. They said it could make them sick.”

“Actually, it could kill them. The rosary pea contains a toxin called abrin. If a kid swallowed one he’d probably be okay, since the pea has a hard shell. But if he chewed it and any of the inside came out, he could die.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Susan doesn’t… have kids,” said Joe. “And I don’t… see her… as the rosary type.”

“I don’t think Billy was chewing rosaries either,” said Tom. “But according to his autopsy report, he had abrin in his blood when he died. A lot of it.”

“Snoop,” said Joe.

Mary closed the book, her face a pastiche of sadness, confusion and worry. Tom retrieved the book and handed it to Joe. “Read,” he ordered.

In a sarcastic, singsong whisper, Joe recited: “‘woody vine… with auxiliary cluster… of pink… or lavender… flowers. Warn children… that the seeds… though attractive… are poisonous.’” He dropped the book on the bed cover.

“And isn’t that the plant in the photo?” asked Tom. “And in the drawing?”

“What if… it is… brother? Billy drowned.”

“So did Rasputin. But before that, he’d been fed enough arsenic to kill a bear, shot in the face at point blank range, bludgeoned, bound and shoved through a hole in an iced-over river. But when they found his body, the ropes were broken and his lungs were filled with water. He drowned, too.”

“You saying… I killed Billy?”

“Rosary pea was on the lab list you gave me in the car on the way to New York. It’s the overlap between the plants you say you took off of Watermelon Hill and this group here. That, and that all the others are serotonin uptake inhibitors.”

“Tommy!” whined Mrs. Morgan. “What are you saying?”

“Joe knows, Mom. A dog that doesn’t bark. A boat that makes it through Wilson Cove running without lights, a severed bird leg and now this witch’s garden on the sunny side of our old fort.”

“Joey?” Mary pleaded.

“If you’ve got a story that’ll string this all together,” said Tom, “you might as well practice it here on family before you have to sell it to Dick Tracy outside.”

“I ought… to beat… the crap out… of you,” Joe whispered.

“I know you mean that lovingly. In the meantime, try the truth.”

Joe glanced helplessly from Tom to his mother and then sank back into the bed, defeated.

“Joey?” his mother whispered.

Joe turned his head toward his brother, his face a mask of exhausted defeat and his words sputtered with labored breath. “Mom told you… I saw Billy… a few hours… before he was killed. That I called… Susan to get… him to a hospital. That I found… them both gone… when I went back… after my shift.”

Mary looked away.

“She told me that story.”

“When I went… into the boathouse… to look for them… that bird… attacked me. It was already… missing a foot. Whatever they find… under that claw… won’t be… from me. The Chris Craft… was gone… too. I could hear… a boat… out in Wilson Cove… but I couldn’t see it. It took me… five minutes… to get down to… the marina… and out… in the police boat. Maybe another five… sweeping the cove… with a spotlight… before I picked… up a boat… drifting dark.”

“Anyone on board?”

“Not that I… could see. It took me a while… to get there. Even with… the halogen spot… you’ve got to… be careful of rocks… in that place. When I got close… I heard a thud… and then… a few seconds later… a splash. It was a big… wooden cruiser… like the Pearce’s… so I yelled. But no one answered.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” whispered Mary.

“There was no one… on deck… when I pulled… alongside, and when I checked… the cabin… was empty.”

Tom’s and his mother’s stares triangulated on Joe’s moist, chalky face.

“Then I heard… another splash… off the stern. And I went to see.. . what it was. There were more… splashes… so I yelled… and shined a light… on the water. Then out of the dark… and up to the side… of the boat… swims you know who. ‘Hi… ,’ she says. Perky… as you please.”

Mary groaned.

Tom locked eyes with his brother. “Let me guess. She’s got on this modest, one-piece swimsuit?”

“Not a stitch.”

Mary’s face went from ghostly to livid in a nanosecond. Had she been strapped to the same machines as her son, the electronics would have imploded. “And so you forgot what you were there for, didn’t you? That you were a police officer investigating a murder!”

Joe shook his head. “I didn’t know… I was investigating… a murder. No one knew there’d been one… until the Dooley twins… fished Billy… out of the lake… the next day.”

Tom continued to stare at his brother. “Did you ask her what she was doing out there? And did she know that Billy was gone?”

“Eventually.”

“What did she say… eventually?”

Joe released a lung full of air. “She said Billy… was fine… when she got home… but gone when… she went down… to the boathouse later. That she’d heard… a boat driving… away and tried… to follow it. But she lost it.”

“Did you ask about the bird?”

“Or the mess the place was in?” asked Mary.

“Not right away.”

Mary groaned.

Tom shook his head. “This is what you police types call a modus operandi, isn’t it? Girl distracts over-sexed cop by taking off her clothes? She’s got you figured out pretty good little brother.”

Joe’s voice regained a measure of strength and volume. “I’m going… to beat… the crap… out of you… when I… get out of here.”

Tom hooted. “You know what that first splash was, don’t you?”

Joe closed his eyes and lifted his face toward the ceiling.

Mary looked at Tom like he’d abruptly changed the subject and that it didn’t promise to be good.

“Billy. In a weighted sleeping bag. Still