Furmidable Foes

31

June 28, 2019

Friday

Susan allowed the motor to run. While not sticky hot, it was hot enough for air-conditioning as she was parked at Mags’s.

Harry fished in her purse. “Why is it, no matter what you want, it’s always at the bottom of your purse?”

Harry’s finger found what she was looking for. “Aha.”

She pulled down the visor, mirror on the reverse, and pulled off the cap.

“You and your magenta lipstick.”

“You bought a tube.” Harry lifted one eyebrow.

“To show you up.” Susan dug out her tube, top off, twisting the lipstick up. “Better than yours.”

Patting her now-vibrant lips with a Kleenex from the glove compartment, Harry rolled her lips inward. “Dream on.”

Susan grabbed the Kleenex, patting her own lips.

“Mine is better.”

Harry snatched the tube, holding it next to her own. “Close but no cigar.”

“Cigar, hell.” Susan grabbed her lipstick back. “Out of the car. We can see better in the natural light. Next year when the peonies bloom, we can compare for real.”

“How do you know we won’t have used up all our lipstick?” Harry challenged her.

“Well, Harry, you could bite it in half. Then you’d have a magenta tongue and teeth.”

“You’re nuts.”

“Remember that line from our senior class play, Charley’s Aunt? Oh, you remember. ‘I’m…from Brazil. Where the nuts come from!’ ”

At this they both laughed.

Susan grinned. “What fun. Even funnier, my future husband played Charley’s aunt.” A deep sigh followed this memory. “I miss those days.”

“Because we were young?”

Susan thought. “Kind of, but more because we were innocent. We believed what we were told. At least, I did.” She paused. “You did, too.”

“Yeah.” Harry put the lipstick back in her small purse. “Isn’t it odd that we were all so silly at the AHIP fundraiser? A bunch of middle-aged women grabbing one another’s lipsticks. We aren’t silly enough, Susan.”

“That’s the truth.” Susan opened the door, tossing her lipstick on the driver’s seat of the station wagon.

“That will melt.”

“I’ll pour it on you.” Susan closed the door, not bothering to lock.

“Do you lock your car when you go into Charlottesville?” Harry asked.

“You know I do. I don’t know who those people are anymore.”

“You only have to worry about the city council.” Harry took a jaunty step. “They need money. They’d open your car. Might have pennies on the floor.”

Susan laughed. “How did we get into this mess?”

“We didn’t. We’re part of the county.” Harry squared her shoulders. “Everyone’s in a mess.”

“You know, Harry, I think about that AHIP fundraiser. To think that about an hour after our hijinks in the ladies’ room, Jeannie Cordle would be dead.”

“You never know.” Harry stated the obvious.

“At least she died happy. Almost on the dance floor.”

Mags, stepping out from her impressive home’s side door, waved. “You two are prompt. Come on.”

They walked back behind the house, through the graceful door to the garden.

Stopping at the end of the arbor, the entrance to the horseshoe garden, Harry asked, “Where’s the bench? Sort of Chippendale?”

“Moved it. Blocks the view and I have those table and chairs on either side of the door.”

Noticing the comfortable cushions on the chairs, Susan inquired, “Shouldn’t those cushions be waterproof?”

“Doesn’t matter. If it rains, I still have to wipe them off so I untie them, bring them into the outside shed over there. Granted, it’s one more thing to do, but I am not buying more cushions.”

“One good thing about daily chores, they keep you fit.” Harry’s eyes swept over the garden, even more lush than at their first visit.

“Your chores.” Mags laughed. “Come with me. Let’s stand in the middle of the horseshoe.”

As they did so Susan remarked, “I really love the way you laid this out. No juniper.”

“I thought you liked juniper,” Harry came back at her.

“I do, but this garden is so soft. Maybe I’m not using the right descriptive word. Juniper is kind of edgy. Spreads, though. It can be a godsend.”

Mags nodded in agreement. “I used juniper on the edges of the walk down to the creek. Trickle, actually.” She smiled. “I was going for the effect here of black locusts and hemlock on the curve of the horseshoe, a bit away, but then once in the horseshoe, I wanted color.”

“All your rhododendrons, azaleas give you that. The iris and coreopsis. Mags, you’ve done such an interesting job.” Harry meant that. “By the way, where is Janice?”

“Brewery. We each take two days apiece, one day together. The other two days go to the managers. You’d be surprised how exhausting running that brewery is.”

“Any time you deal with the public it’s exhausting.” Susan knew she was not born for any kind of service or retail.

“Your hops look good.” Harry then added, “Drove over with my boyfriend for a look.”

“Now, that was a fight. Janice said, ‘Why go to the trouble of growing our own hops when farmers around us are doing it?’ I swore just like wine, the earth leaves a distinctive taste. The soil is good at Bottoms Up. We have thirty acres. I prevailed and our beer is better than ever.”

“Fair thinks so, too.” Harry smiled. “I stick to Coca-Cola.”

“Bet I can change that,” Mags teased. “You two garden, have done so for all your lives. Susan, your mother and grandmother garden.”

“Keeps Gran young.” Susan adored her grandmother.

“You are both good to look this over with me. I have another reason.” Mags put her hands together. “Poisonous plants. The cause of Jeannie’s death disturbs me. I have jimsonweed here.”

“We all do, Mags,” Harry reassured her.

“What else do I have? You all will know. I go for size, texture, color. I’m not thinking about anyone eating my garden, including the rabbits.”

Harry and Susan looked at each other. Then Susan spoke first.

“So many trees and plants have parts that are poisonous or times of year when they are dangerous. See your impressive English yews?”

“Yes.”

“There’s poison in the berries.”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Mags complained.

“Who is going to go to the trouble to climb up, get berries, and eat them? The berries are short-lived.”

“I see. So they aren’t dangerous?”

“Not unless someone makes a point of harvesting berries.” Susan then pointed to the rhododendrons. “Now, those can get you. They produce a honey-like substance and it’s poisonous. You don’t want horses to eat rhododendrons. As for us, we’d have to eat a large amount to kill us, but a small amount can make you sick.”

“Such a beautiful shrub.” Mags’s brows wrinkled. “But okay?”

“Sure. So are azaleas, which have a little goo, enough to make you queasy.” Harry shrugged. “Given all the pesticides people spray on their plants, that’s more dangerous than some of the plants. You breathe in the pesticides.”

“True enough,” Mags agreed.

“Foxglove, seeds, stems, flowers. Those happy flowers contain poisons.” Harry walked into the garden. “But then again, you’d have to go to a lot of work to collect the flowers, press them, find a way to make them edible.” She walked out and over to the yews. “Now, this stuff, jimsonweed. First, if you ingest a small dose, hallucinations. More, boom, you’re dead.”

“Should I pull it out?” Mags asked.

Harry smiled. “It’s all over Virginia. Unless you are planning to serve it to someone at Bottoms Up, no.”

“That’s just it, Harry. Someone did serve it to Jeannie.” Mags’s voice rose.

“No one knows how she got jimsonweed. All they know is, given the time frame of her death, the severity of the symptoms, she had to have eaten it at AHIP.” Susan stated the known facts.

“Someone knew what they were doing.” Mags crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, but maybe they did it to the wrong person.” Harry truly believed Jeannie could not have been the intended victim. “Look at the still way up behind my house, up in Susan’s walnut acres. Bones. A natural death? A murder? Then another still. Now we know the profits involved with selling black-market booze are enormous. Someone stole your beer.”

“I hope I get my hands on them,” Mags vowed.

“Not that Jeannie was involved in any such thing, but here’s another thought. What if timber is being harvested illegally on government lands and sold? Susan fusses at me, but I think we’re in the middle of either some kind of rivalry or a threat to illegal profit.”

“Mags, don’t get her going.” Susan then looked at the large plants under the English yew. “You’re safe.”