The Case of the Missing Elf: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 2) Read Free Page B

poison.”
    “That sounds promising.”
    I wondered where Gossford was going with this? He rarely offered me inside information. And why the rush? He knew my story on Scroggins’ death wouldn’t be published until Monday.
    “Actually,” Gossford continued, “I’ve come to ask for your help. Doc Kirkwood has narrowed the poison down. He thinks what killed Scroggins was something called digitalis.”
    “The heart medicine?”
    “Maybe, but apparently that form of medicine isn’t as popular as it once was, making it harder to come by. Kirkwood thinks it’s more likely our killer used parts from  the plant the medicine’s made from.”
    “Which is?”
    “A common garden flower called foxgloves. We think the murderer might have used the leaves, but the whole plant is poisonous, including flowers and roots. Then again,  parts of the plant might have been distilled down to a super high dosage, and the resulting liquid slipped into the victim’s tea. I’m hoping the state lab report will provide more specifics. For now, the information is pure speculation, so I can’t officially say anything until it’s been confirmed.”
    “But you say you need our help?”
    “Yes, I’d appreciate it if you took a look back in your gardening stories. I’d like to know if any of them mention the names of gardeners with a passion for growing foxgloves.”
    Normally, when someone came requesting information from old stories, we pointed them to the microfilm cabinet and let them search for themselves.  But we had at least two years worth of material stored on our computers. A few clicks and a few keywords, and we’d be able to pull the old stories up easily enough. Plus, this was a cop who was asking, a cop who was tracking a killer.
    I nodded. “We can sort through the old gardening stories in search for the words foxgloves and digitalis. We’d be happy to do it. But you and your officers will have to read through the articles to pick up the details. We have a paper to put out here.”
    “Fair enough.”
    “I’ll have Betty McCracken sort out the gardening articles for you. She’ll email you copies of whatever she finds.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    “Good.”
    Gossford paused for a minute, then said, “I am right, aren’t I? You did say Wendy Cartwright came up with that key to Scroggins’ apartment?”
    “Sure. She kept a spare key in the kitchen.”
    “They were close? Her and Scroggins?”
    I raised my shoulders. “They were cousins. I believe she let him live rent-free in the apartment. Rumor has it she built the thing specifically for him. I doubt anyone would go to that kind of bother for someone they dislike. Why do you ask?”
    Gossford grunted. “She’s got a lot of flowerbeds on that lot of hers. Some in front of the house. Some behind. Even though it’s winter, you can still see all those dried stalks.”
    “Yes, I think she’s widely considered to be an excellent gardener. But, you can’t possibly suspect Wendy of killing her cousin. She’s seventy years old and frail.”
    “Poisoning a person doesn’t take strength, Melanie. Plus, the woman’s obviously strong enough to garden. That’s no small thing. I also suspect a good gardener knows which of her plants are poisonous.”
    “Whoa, slow down. I doubt Wendy Cartwright ever had a mean thought in her life about anyone. And I’ll never believe she’d kill Barnaby.”
    Gossford smiled. “Think you know her that well, do you?”
    I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it. This wasn’t the first time Gossford had jumped to a wrong conclusion, and pointing his errors out to him rarely had the desired effect.
    Dang . I swallowed a sigh. I hoped he wasn’t going to make more of Wendy’s gardening pursuits than was warranted.
    Gossford leaned forward in the chair, his brow furrowed. “Was Wendy with you all the time between when you entered the apartment and our officer arrived?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re sure? She never left your side?