“And what did this family do? Make and sell art, grow food, commune with nature, and cultivate their knowledge of poisonous plants?”
“Ah, yes, the wolfsbane.” The sheriff nodded, as if he’d been waiting for her to raise the subject. “At best, postmortem toxicology reports can take days. We need those results to confirm the theory that Celeste Leopold ingested a fatal dose of wolfsbane. However, the ME found several pieces of evidence to support the hypothesis. Out of respect for the victim and because we’re still eating, I won’t go into detail. Let’s just say that he was able to test a certain residue left on her clothing.”
Nora remembered the foul odor of Celeste’s breath and the vomit on her hair and shirt. “What else?”
“In addition to the physical signs of poisoning, we also found traces of mustard powder in Ms. Leopold’s bedroom.” When Nora responded with a blank stare, he was quick to add, “That didn’t mean anything to me, either. After some research, I learned that mustard is one of the most effective household treatments for poisoning.”
Nora was fascinated. “How does it work?”
McCabe’s gaze swept over Nora’s sandwich wrapper. Seeing that she’d finished her breakfast, he said, “It initiates a purging of the stomach, which is usually helpful if someone has ingested poison.”
“Did Celeste eat or drink something laced with wolfsbane? I know she makes her own herbal tea.”
“There were no cups or plates in the sink, so we can’t tell how the poison was administered. There’s a tin of tea leaves in the kitchen, which we’re having analyzed. As for herbs, Ms. Leopold grew rows and rows of them. Veggies too. I couldn’t believe it.” Reaching for a much thicker file folder, he opened it at an angle, using the cover to block Nora’s view of the contents. The fingers of his right hand moved up and down like a cellist plucking the strings of his instrument as he sifted through the stack of paper. Finally, a glossy color photo slid free from the stack and McCabe handed it to Nora.
“This looks like the Very Hungry Caterpillar’s idea of heaven,” she said, studying the neat rows of plants. The pots were arranged by size and every plant was labeled. There were dozens of seedlings and at least thirty full-sized plants. Nora pointed at one of the low-hanging light fixtures. “Is that a special bulb?”
“If you’re a plant, yes. The room is lit by full-spectrum fluorescent bulbs, which cost around fifteen bucks a pop. They must work because Ms. Leopold’s garden was thriving. I might have a black thumb, but I know a healthy plant when I see one.”
As Nora drank her coffee, she thought about Celeste’s ability to create. Not only was she a talented sculptor, but she also made household products, food, and, wine. She could grow plants—another form of creation—and had curated a selection of soothing products to sell in her shop. Nora had never met anyone like her, and she wished she’d been given the chance to know her better.
McCabe dipped back into the file folder to retrieve a typed list. Tapping the corner of the grow room photograph, he said, “In case you were about to ask, we didn’t find any wolfsbane. Lots of vegetables. Carrots, spinach, kale, salad greens, mushrooms, scallions, tomatoes, and the garbage pail in the corner is full of potatoes. The smaller pots are the herbs. Basil, chives, cilantro, ginger, parsley, garlic, rosemary, lavender, oregano, and mint. On top of all this, there are two lemon trees and a few medicinal plants, like aloe and echinacea.”
“No mustard plants?”
Though his voice betrayed no emotion, a divot appeared between McCabe’s brows. “No. Whoever poisoned Ms. Leopold must have brought in the wolfsbane and the mustard. The killer could have promised the mustard antidote in exchange for the location of the mysterious book. Ms. Leopold would have felt the wolfsbane’s effects right away, and if her killer told her which poison he’d given her, she’d have known that she had seconds to make a decision.”
Nora felt a tightening in her throat. “I’m sure she wanted to keep the book out of her killer’s hands, but that’s probably not what kept her from taking the mustard. She told me that Beck was a liar, so she probably didn’t expect him to honor his word. More than that, I don’t think she wanted to live. Grief and guilt had hollowed her out. She could continue living without her daughter or exit through the door Wolf Beck had opened for her. I think she chose the door.”
McCabe squeezed Nora’s arm. “I’m sorry that she suffered. I’m sorry that you were there to see it. But I’m also glad that she wasn’t alone.”