CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - 2

When the DNA on the glass proved to be a bit of a mystery, Fergus asked for further tests. Milton’s DNA did not match the other familial DNA. Fergus snapped his fingers. “Charles, take a gander at this.”

Charles grunted. “It would appear that Milton is not related to the other two people who handled the glass. I need to check with Myra. See if she got anywhere with Milton.” He checked his watch. It was six o’clock Eastern time. Myra should be on her way back to the hotel. He decided to phone instead of text.

“Hello, love,” Charles greeted his wife.

“Oh, Charles, I was just about to call you. I have so much to tell you.”

“As do I. But you go first.”

Myra explained the course of events the night Milton had his heart attack. People entering, leaving, serving drinks. “Well, Milton suspected there was some monkey business going on with the invoices and payments.” She went on to explain the higher bills for three of the inns, and the bulletproof doors. Then she described the issue with the certificates. “Milton thinks Oliver may have a drug problem.”

“I have rather stunning news. The lab results we requested regarding the DNA. Milton has no familial DNA markings.”

“What do you mean?” Myra was baffled.

“It means that Oliver is not related to Milton,” Charles said grimly.

Myra was speechless. “What are you talking about?”

“If two of the DNA samples are related and one is not, the first two subjects have no biological connection to the third.”

Myra was clinging to her pearls as if they were attached to a lifeline. “Charles, are you positive?”

“Unless the lab results are wrong, then yes, I am positive.”

“So, then, who is Oliver’s father?” Myra was beyond flabbergasted.

“We can check the national database. See if anyone comes up as a match,” Charles suggested.

“So this means that Patricia had an affair with someone.” Myra was thinking out loud.

“Would appear so.” Charles could only imagine the shock Myra was experiencing about her friend and the betrayal. “Listen, love, I’ll check further. Meanwhile, tell Annie.”

Myra spoke slowly and deliberately. “I will. She is on her way to the airport now.”

“You alright?” Charles asked sweetly.

“Not really.” Tears were running down Myra’s cheeks. “Poor Milton.”

“I know, love. I’ll ring you in a few. We’re waiting for the results from the rug sample and the contents of the glass.”

“Okay.” Myra ended the call, sat, and stared blankly at the wall. She wasn’t going to say anything to Milton until the other issues were handled. Her reverie was disrupted by the sing-song melody coming from her laptop. It was Yoko. Myra opened the camera and greeted her friend. “Yoko! Nice to see your face. You got my photos?”

“Yes. That is why I am calling. Did you know there was a row of foxglove running in front of the privet?”

“Foxglove? No. I thought it was part of the hedge.”

“No. And it is the deadliest plant in North America,” Yoko explained. It’s lovely, but ingesting any of it can cause seizures, even death.”

Again, the news stunned Myra. “Why would someone grow something like that in their garden?”

“The foxglove looks like it may have been planted recently. They’re young plants.”

“I see. Well, we will absolutely have no foxglove on our property.”

“And the privet?” Yoko asked. “It’s harmless and grows well.”

“Yes. Thanks, Yoko. I owe you big time,” Myra said.

“I didn’t do anything special.”

“I think you may have uncovered a major clue. But I’ll know more later. Thanks again.” Myra signed off. Foxglove . She phoned Milton.

“Mill? Sorry to bother you, but I want to duplicate the hedges you have separating the pool area. Can you give me the name of your landscaper? I want to find out what it is.”

“We’ve been using Guaranteed Plants and Landscaping for years. I can give you their number. Hang on.” A few seconds later, he ticked off the phone number.

“Thanks, Mill.”

“Myra? Sorry if I unloaded a dumpster on you and Annie today. I just didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“No worries, Mill. That’s what friends are for. See you tomorrow. Try to relax.”

* * *

Annie spotted a handsome man in his early forties standing on the tarmac. Next to him was a German shepherd wearing a K-9 vest. She jumped out of her vehicle and waved. “Chris?”

The man had thick black hair with a touch of gray at the temples and smoky eyes. He had an exotic look and could almost pass as the actor Jay Hernandez on Magnum P.I. His long stride carried a toned body. Chandler had no trouble keeping up with him. Annie extended her hand. “Thank you so much for coming all the way out here.”

“And miss a chance to fly on a private jet?” He shook Annie’s hand. Chandler sat and extended his paw.

Annie bent over. “Nice to meet you, Chandler.” He gave a happy yelp in return.

Chris secured Chandler in the back seat and then climbed in the front. “I must warn you. I’m a lead foot.” Annie raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t scare me,” he joked.

On the way to the cabin, Annie brought Chris up to speed on the suspicious delivery. She also mentioned the ski mask Eileen had spotted in Dickie’s van. When they arrived, there was no one in sight. They parked on the opposite side of the street. Chris took off Chandler’s vest to avoid curiosity in case anyone spotted him. Chris let Chandler sniff the pouch, and then the three walked up the driveway as if they were going to pay Dickie a visit. Chandler got in a downward dog position. “What does that mean?” Annie said.

“He’s got nothing.”

“According to Eileen, the box went through the back door, so let’s start there.”

The dog showed a little interest when they reached the back steps but then made his way toward the shed. Chandler gave a slight woof . Not overwhelming enthusiasm, but something. Chandler continued to sniff.

“We have to see what’s in the shed,” Annie said.

“We don’t have a warrant,” Chris reminded her.

“No, but we have these.” She pulled out her lock-picking kit.

“You can’t be serious.” Chris almost laughed, but his instincts told him the woman was serious. “I can’t be any part of this. You do understand?”

“Of course. You can go round to the front of the house so you can honestly say you did not see me do anything illegal.”

Chris shook his head. He understood, and he moved quickly to the other side of the house.

Picking a padlock was a piece of cake for Annie. She had become quite adept at breaking and entering. But only when necessary. At that moment, it was necessary. She unlatched the door and slid it open. Chandler pounced on the cardboard. “Good boy!” Annie petted him. She called out to Chris. “We got a hit!” Chris jogged over to the open shed. The flattened box was on the floor, and Chandler was on top of it.

“According to Eileen . . .”

“Who is Eileen again?” Chris asked.

“She works for a P.I. agency we use.”

“You find a need for a P.I. often?” He smirked.

“Pretty much.” Annie placed her hands on her hips. “Anyway, Eileen spotted Dickie moving the box into the house, and later brought the flattened box back here.” She pointed to the cardboard dog bed. “The woman must be in the house.” Annie dashed to the back door.

Chris was concerned they were going to find a dead woman. “Are you planning to use your same B-and-E technique? Otherwise, I’ll . . .”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. Step aside.”

Even though this woman was doing all things illegal, he was amused by her verve and determination. “I can’t watch this. Take Chandler with you. He’s good protection.” He strode to the side of the building. The back door was an ordinary Schlage lock. The kind that you could find at Home Depot or any hardware store. Within seconds, Annie had it open. She called out: “Hello? Anybody here?”

* * *

Lori thought she was hallucinating. When she first heard footsteps above, she thought the man had come back to eliminate her. But then she heard a woman’s voice. “Here! I’m down here!” She climbed up the stairs and began pounding on the door. “Help me! Please!”

Chandler began barking loudly. Annie called out to Chris: “In here!” He dashed inside as Annie removed the padlock on the basement door. A tattered and frightened young woman matching the description of Lori George stared back at her. “Oh, my goodness!” Annie wrapped her arms around Lori. “Come. Sit.”

Chris pulled out a kitchen chair so she could sit, and then took a glass from the drying rack and filled it with water. The young woman was shaking uncontrollably. He handed the glass to Annie, who helped the girl bring it to her lips. “You’re Lori?” Annie asked. The girl nodded. “You’re safe now.” Lori began to sob. Annie put her arms around her. “It’s going to be alright.”

“Where’s . . . where’s . . . the man?” Lori stuttered as she looked around the kitchen with wide eyes.

“He’s not here, but we’ll get him.”

“Oh, please! I don’t want to see him again!” Lori continued to sob.

“Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean we were going to get him back here. We’re going to get him. And I mean get him good!” She looked up at Chris, who looked on with disbelief. He wasn’t in town for an hour, and he was in the middle of a kidnapping recovery. Usually, it took days, weeks, or sometimes never to find the victim.

“This is a record for me.” He had a wonderful smile.

“You’ve never worked with us before.” Annie grinned.

“And who exactly are the us ?” he asked.

“Long story for another time. We’ve got to get Lori to a doctor.” Annie remembered how terrified Vanessa had been at the hospital. She decided to phone the Rowans’ GP. She knew he’d be discreet. Plus, Lori was an adult, so there was no parental consent necessary. She scrolled through her phone call history log and found the doctor’s number. “Hello. This is Annie De Silva. I brought Vanessa in the other day.” A pleasant voice on the other end greeted her. “I have another slight emergency and was wondering if Dr. Foster had a few free minutes?”

The voice on the other end replied, “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to the hospital?”

“It’s rather sensitive. Please. It’s important.”

“Just a minute, Mrs. De Silva.” The receptionist put Annie on hold. It seemed to take forever before Dr. Foster got on the phone.

They exchanged pleasantries, and then Annie explained she had a friend who needed a quick checkup. It wasn’t an emergency, but it was urgent. Dr. Foster agreed.

Chris found a cotton throw on the sofa and wrapped it around Lori. Chandler put his head on her lap. Lori continued to cry, but the sobs were subsiding. “Come on, sweetie. We’re going to get you sorted out.” Annie walked Lori outside and tossed the car keys to Chris. He dashed toward the parked car and pulled it around the back. The bright light made Lori squint, and she covered her eyes with her forearm. Chandler did not move from her side. Gaines jumped out of the vehicle, secured Chandler, and then buckled Lori into her seat belt. She wrapped her arms around the dog and buried her head in his furry neck.

Annie bolted to the driver’s side and hopped in. “I know the way.”

Chris stared in amazement. The service could use a few spunky women like Annie. It wouldn’t be until later that day that he would discover not only was Annie a superb lockpick, but she also had a reputation for being a fine pole dancer, as well as a very wealthy countess. He’d guessed about the wealth part because of the jet, but the rest came as a huge surprise.

Once Lori stopped crying, Annie reached over the seat and handed her a phone. “Call your folks. Tell them you are okay. You’re being taken to a doctor, and you will call back in a couple of hours.”

Lori’s hands were shaking as she pressed the buttons on the phone. “Mama?”

A stunned woman answered. “Lori? Lori? Where are you?”

“I’m with some friends.” Chandler gave a woof . “And a dog.” She smiled for the first time. “They found me.”

“Where were you?” Mrs. George was excited and concerned.

“I’m not really sure, but these people found me, and I’m alright.”

Chris motioned for Lori to give him the phone. “Mrs. George? U.S. Marshal Christopher Gaines here. Yes, we have your daughter. She’s rumpled, and in shock, but she’s going to be alright.”

“But where are you?” Mrs. George insisted.

“Outside of Salem. Can you and your husband drive up here?”

“Of course! Where should we go?”

Annie looked over at Chris. “Tell them to meet us at The Grand Hotel. Give them my name, and call my room from the lobby phone. They should not tell anyone about this until we can all be in the same room. If we’re not back from Dr. Foster’s, someone will be there to meet them.”

Chris repeated what Annie had said. “Yes. The Grand Hotel. Annie De Silva.” A pause. “Right. I suggest you pack some fresh clothes for her.” Another pause. “Be careful on the road.” Chris knew the excitement of recovering their daughter could supersede following road safety precautions.

Annie pushed a button. “Phone Myra.” The mechanical voice repeated what Annie said. Myra answered after the first ring.

“We’ve got her. She’s okay.” Myra was overjoyed to hear the good news.

“Thank God,” Myra said. “Where are you now?”

“Taking Lori to Dr. Foster and then to the hotel. Her folks will be meeting us there. They’re on their way from Eugene.”

“Perfect.”

* * *

Charles surmised that if Patricia had had an affair, it would most likely have been with someone in government. Those types stuck together.

Fergus accessed the DHS database. After 9/11, members of Congress who served on certain committees were encouraged to give a DNA sample. Just in case. Just in case bodies had to be identified. It was creepy, but important.

It took about an hour before they got a hit. Oliver’s DNA matched that of Congressman Garret Lambeau, age seventy-two. A lifer inside the Beltway. “This is juicier than those telenovelas.” Fergus chortled.

Charles echoed Myra’s earlier words. “Poor Milton. Now we have to put the rest of the pieces together. Did we get a hit on the contents of the glass?”

Fergus checked his computer. “Just in.” He looked it over. “Digitalis from the foxglove plant.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that an Agatha Christie ploy?” Charles raised an eyebrow.

“I believe so. And my bet is on Patricia. Poison is a woman’s weapon,” Fergus said.

“But why would she want to kill Milton?” Charles ruminated.

“That’s a very good question,” Fergus answered.

“Right. Now we have two pieces of vital information. Oliver’s real father is a U.S. Congressman, and Milton was poisoned with foxglove.”

“We’ve seen worse. At least she didn’t succeed.”

“True. I’ll let Myra know what we found.” Just as he was about to call her, his phone rang. “Hello, love. I was just about to . . .”

Myra interrupted him. “They found Lori. She’s alive and okay, all but for the trauma.”

“What a relief,” Charles said. He conveyed the information to Fergus.

“Brilliant!” Fergus responded.

“Her parents are driving up from Eugene, Annie and Chris are taking her to the doctor, and then we are going to meet here, at the hotel.”

“Where was she?” Charles asked.

“Dickie Morton’s cabin. Thank goodness for Chandler. And Eileen. And Christopher. And Annie, who had to use one of her forbidden skills to open a few locks.”

“I have one more piece of information for you, love,” Charles said. “We found out what was in the beverage.”

“Foxglove!” they said in unison.

“How did you know?” Charles asked.

“The photos I took of the privet. I sent them to Yoko, and she recognized them. She phoned me earlier.”

“Fergus believes Patricia mixed the potion that caused Milton’s heart attack.”

“Really? Not Oliver?”

“He claims it’s the weapon of choice for women.” Charles grinned at his pal.

“But why?” Myra was stupefied.

“That’s a question only she can answer,” Charles said.

“Poor Milton,” Myra lamented again. “But what about the pills Vanessa saw, and the hidden room Isabelle found? Who is responsible for them?”

“No one specific—it’s a group effort. That much I am certain of. It can’t just be Oliver. There are too many moving parts.”

“True.” Myra sighed. “I guess our work is not done yet.”

“No, but it appears things are unraveling, and we’re picking up the loose ends. You’ll get it sorted,” Charles assured her.

“Thank you, darling. I’ll call later, once things settle down here.”

“Right. Tootles.” Charles ended the call.

* * *

Annie, Lori, Christopher, and Chandler arrived at the doctor’s office in thirty minutes. Annie checked the time. She had an hour before she was supposed to meet Oliver. It had been a very busy day.

Dr. Foster and the nurse were waiting for them in the examination room. “Who do we have here?”

“Hello. My name is Lori George.” The girl was truly shaken.

The doctor looked at her closely. “You’re the missing woman from Eugene?” Lori nodded. Then the doctor looked at Annie. “Are you in the people-rescue business? Twice in one week!”

Chris gave her a look. Annie flapped her wrist. She would tell him later. “What can I say, doc? I’m a human magnet.” She scratched Chandler’s neck. “But this guy is the real hero.”

“And to whom do I owe the pleasure?” Dr. Foster looked at Chandler, who gave him his paw.

“This is Chandler. Retired U.S. Marshal’s Service.”

Dr. Foster shook Chandler’s paw and then washed his hands. “No offense.” He smiled at the big pooch.

Annie looked at Lori. “Do you want me to stay with you?” Lori nodded.

“We’ll be outside,” Chris said, and took Chandler into the reception area.

Nurse Crowley took Lori’s blood pressure. It was a bit low, probably from shock. Dr. Foster checked her other vitals. All seemed normal. He checked her skin to see if she was dehydrated. “Did you drink a lot of water?” he asked. She nodded. “Good. It probably helped you keep your strength. Most people don’t realize that when they’re dehydrated, the rest of their bodily functions can’t work at their optimum levels.” Lori nodded again. He checked her for any cuts or bruises. Nothing that required attention. “You’re in tip-top shape.” He thought for a second. “For a woman who went through what you did. Now I want you to take it easy for the next couple of days. No work, no school. Understood?”

Lori bobbed her head again. “Thank you.”

Annie helped her off the table and walked her out to where Chris and Chandler were waiting. “All good?” Chris asked.

“You bet.” Annie had her arm around Lori’s shoulders. “Right?”

Lori smiled. “Yes. Much better now.”

They returned to the vehicle and drove to the hotel. Annie sent the three of them up to the room. She checked her watch. The George family would arrive in about forty-five minutes. Oliver was due in twenty. One more grand scheme to pull off before the end of the day.

* * *

Kat and Isabelle were back at the apartment, waiting for further instructions. They were both fidgety. There were too many balls in the air, and they didn’t know who was going to catch what.

Isabelle jumped when the phone rang.

“Myra. What is going on?” Isabelle was getting concerned. Neither she nor Kat had heard anything for several hours. It wasn’t unusual, but the silence was worrisome. One never knew what Annie and Myra could get themselves into, or the rest of the Sisters, for that matter. But Annie and Myra were the ringleaders, and it was usually the two of them who led the charge, whether it was into a blazing fire, or tunneling their way out from a locked barn.

Myra gave Isabelle the rundown about Lori, the foxglove, and Oliver. “Her parents should be here shortly. Annie is meeting Oliver in the lobby bar in a few minutes. Mill thinks Oliver has a drug problem. We think he has a distribution problem, as well as his own personal addiction. We just need a little more information before we break all the bad news to Milton. And we still need to figure out how to turn over our evidence without implicating ourselves for breaking and entering.”

“I was the one entering,” Isabelle said.

“And Annie. She did both.”

“Again?”

“Of course. But that’s how we found Lori. With the help of Chandler. He gave Annie the clues.”

“Don’t ya just love dogs?” Of course, it was a rhetorical question. Being an animal lover was a requirement to be part of this unique group of women.

“Can’t live without them,” Myra said. “I think the two of you should get over here. We need a meeting.”

“Roger that!” Isabelle was happy she and Kat wouldn’t be left out of the group gathering.

* * *