Page 7 of Oleander

The second call was Mrs. Martin. She was eighty-six, spry, completely aware of what was happening around her but she was also lonely. She’d call someone now and then just to keep her company. Anything to chase away the loneliness.

He remembered meeting her that first time and instantly feeling a kinship with her.

Roderick, sat with her for five hours, playing cards and watching Wheel Of Fortune, challenging one another to guess the puzzle first. Roderick hated to admit it but she’d won every damn time and he had tried as hard as he could.

Which is why when the news came through that Mrs. Martin was found dead on the front porch of her small cabin, no one believed it.

Especially not Roderick.

“I’m not buying this,” he whispered. “She was in great health, just lonely.”

“Brother, she’s in her eighties. It could be anything,” said Mike.

Roderick looked around the porch, standing and walking from one end to the other. It wasn’t very long. It only took him a few steps to cover the distance. He inhaled deeply and his brow furrowed.

“Do you smell that? Vanilla and something else. Maybe almond?” he asked Mike. Mike inhaled as well and then looked around the small yard. He stepped off the porch and walked to the back of the house, then around to the front again.

Roderick touched Ms. Martin’s arm, gently caressing her skin.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t hear, ma’am,” he whispered. He pulled back and felt something sticky on his fingertips. Just as he was about to bring it to his nose, Mike screamed at him.

“Don’t!” he yelled. He reached inside the medial kit and grabbed the rubbing alcohol, cleaning Roderick’s finger tips. He’d been wearing sterile gloves but Mike didn’t seem to care or think that it was enough.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned.

“Oleander. There was Oleander in the backyard and someone had burned some in a small fire,” said Mike.

“Why would she grow it and then burn it? She was smart. She knew that could kill her. And rub the sap on herself? I don’t think so,” frowned Roderick.

“I don’t think so either,” said Mike. “I think I need to call Luke.”

“Why them?” asked another firefighter.

“Because we handle fires, they handle murders.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“We’d have to agree with you that something is wrong,” said Eric. “Ms. Martin never hurt a fly. She was a well-respected teacher, always involved in the community and church. There would be no reason to kill her.”

“We’ll check banking records, life insurance policies, all of it,” said Cam.

“Did she have a next of kin?” asked Roderick.

“She had one daughter but she passed away a few years ago from cancer. The daughter was married but had no children. I think the son-in-law remarried and moved to another state,” said Hex.

“I guess her will would tell us who everything was left to,” frowned Roderick. “I just don’t believe she would have touched the oleander knowing that it could kill her.”

“It does have some redeeming properties in the right hands,” said Luke. “I’m sure she just had it because it was beautiful. It bloomed well here and she knew how to handle it. We found two pairs of gloves in her shed with the same sticky solution. She knew what she was doing.”

“Then this definitely doesn’t make sense,” said Roderick. “I know I’m just a firefighter, sir, but I really want to help with this.”

“You’re not ‘just’ anything, Roderick,” said Luke. “I know you served six years in the Corps. That’s not just anything.”

Roderick looked away, his caramel skin now blushing a bright pink. He nodded, then looked back at them. One of the teams SUV’s pulled up and Sira and Jill stepped out.

“Don’t tell me you have something already?” frowned Luke.

“She wasn’t a woman that tried to hide anything,” said Sira. “Her will clearly stated that her estate was to be split between three charities. The church, the Retired Teachers Association, and our children’s sanctuary downtown with Molly and Asia.”