Mary Logue - Poison heart: a novel of suspense

OTHER BOOKS BY MARY LOGUE

Novels

Red Lake of the Heart

Still Explosion

Claire Watkins Mysteries

Blood Country

Dark Coulee

Glare Ice

Bone Harvest

Poetry

Discriminating Evidence

Settling

CHAPTER 1

Claire Watkins sat on the steps of her new home watching the bluff line as the sky filled with light. A little over a month ago, right before school started, she and Meg had moved in with Rich Haggard in his family homestead, an old farmhouse along Highway 35 about half a mile from the center of Fort St. Antoine. The farm was the last house in the village to the south.

Since moving to the Wisconsin countryside, Claire had grown familiar with the movements of the sun and the moon. She knew when each celestial sphere came up, and where, and she knew how their orbits changed with the seasons. The sun would crest the top of the bluffs around seven-thirty on this cool September morning.

The hot cup of coffee in her hands sent up a warm cloud of steam. She breathed in the aroma of freshly ground beans. Rich knew how to make good coffee. He had spoiled her for the rotgut stuff that was brewed at the sheriffs department.

Although most of the summer flowers were done, she could still see drifts of purple asters blooming in the sandy fields along the highway. Their color was startling and alive in the early morning air. The last flowers of the season. Soon the leaves would start to turn.

She felt awfully happy, and it scared her.

Claire knew the fragility of such happiness, knew it could be lost with the next breath. She scarcely dared breathe. She could hear Rich out in the barn, feeding his small flock of pheasants. Meg was upstairs sleeping in on this Saturday morning. They were coming together as a new sort of family.

She went over a mental list of what she had to do today. She needed to put an ad in the shopper to rent out her house. Rich had told her not to worry about it until she was settled. She was starting to feel settled. She should take a walk down along the railroad tracks and pick a bouquet of asters. Her uniforms needed cleaning this weekend. She still found it odd to think of herself as back in uniform.

Four years ago, she had left her job with the Minneapolis Police Department, taken a job as deputy sheriff for Pepin County, and moved down to the small town of Fort St. Antoine. The latest census had said there were 142 residents, which didnt include the weekenders. Half the towns homes were owned by part-timers who lived in the Twin Cities.

The first two years working in Pepin County had been hard: Claire had missed the Cities, missed the police department, missed working with other women officers. But she was starting to feel comfortable in this small community, an hour and a half from the Twin Cities, on the banks of the Mississippi River.

She had left the Cities because her husband had been killed. At that time, shed had little thought of finding another man to take his place. Then Rich Haggard had walked into her life. She still remembered the first time he had come over to her house and brought her some morels. She was such a city slicker she hadnt even known what to do with the freshly gathered mushrooms. Now that didnt really matter, because Rich was a much better cook than she was.

They were very officially a couple. Marriage had been talked about, but she wanted to see how they worked as partners first. So far the only thing about Rich that really bugged her was that he often felt the need to tell her how to do things.

Last night while she was loading the dishwasher, he reached in and rearranged the plates. She set down the glass she was holding and left the room.

He came after her. Arent you going to finish loading the dishes? he asked. I thought Id run it.

I dont seem to be able to do it correctly.

Its better if you put the large dishes at the edges. That way the sprayer works better.

Claire just looked at him.

Only a suggestion.

No, she corrected him. It wasnt a suggestion. You were in there moving the dishes around. If you want me to load the dishwasher, you need to let me do it.

Claire had finished loading the dishwasher and then started it herself, even though she knew that Rich liked to check it and then start it before he went to bed. Claire had a feeling that they would be fighting about how to load the dishwasher for many years to come. She looked forward to it.

She sipped her coffee. Rich walked out of the barn, and her heart filled with love. Life could be so good.

The phone rang, and she ran into the house to get it.

Ruth, a friend who lived in Fort St. Antoine, asked, Are you guys going to the Pain Perdu for coffee?

Yeah.

Good. Ill talk to you there. A friend of mine needs some help.

Something pinched her foot. Meg gasped and grabbed at the sheets.

Meggy, didnt mean to startle you. Its time to wake up. Her mothers voice spoke firmly.

Meg turned to see her mother standing in the doorway on the wrong side of the bed. She still wasnt used to this small room tucked under the eaves of Richs housea room that didnt get the morning sun like her old room had in her moms house.

Were leaving. Time for you to get up.

Meg snuggled down in her bed. Luxurious. Sleep seemed to weigh on her eyelids and her arms, urging her deeper into the bed, but then her stomach grumbled.

Under her mothers watchful eye, Meg sat up. She was not one of those people who could jump out of bed. She needed to ease herself into the daylight world the same way she walked into a lakeslowly and carefully, letting the water slide up her body as she got used to it.

She put her feet on the floor. Her mom continued to watch her.

Im up, Meg told her.

Almost.

Mom, Im up.

Claire, Richs voice shouted up the stairs.

Im coming, her mom hollered back. Then to Meg: Ill be downstairs.

Meg shook her head. Sometimes her mom bugged her. She hovered. Part of the problem was that her mom was a deputy sheriff, and it made her more cautious about everything. But she didnt seem to get that Meg was a sixth grader who had moved on to middle school and had different classes for each of her subjects. If Meg could handle all that, she could certainly get herself up in the morning. Or not. Why couldnt she sleep in?

She heard her mom and Rich talking downstairs as she pulled on her bathrobe and slippers. After taking a couple of running steps, she slid down the hallway. Her mom hated when she did that. Rich didnt seem to care, and it was his house. Then Meg trotted down the stairs, pretending she was on a horse. She had been bugging her mom for a horse. Aunt Bridget said she would give her riding lessons.

Rich looked up and smiled at her. There she is.

Meg walked over and burrowed into his flannel shirt. He smelled like wood smoke and cold air. A brisk, good smell.

How about some coffee? Rich asked her.

Without looking at her mom, Meg nodded. Her mom didnt approve of Rich letting her drink coffee, but it was hardly any coffee at all, just mostly heated milk that he foamed and topped with sugar and cinnamon. She loved her special coffee. Besides, he only made it for her on the weekends.

As Rich set the coffee in front of her, her mother pulled on her coat. Were off, Meg. Youre going to be all right?

Of course, Mom.

Try to be out of your pajamas by the time we get home.

Maybe.

Her mom came over and took her face in her hands, wiped the sleep out of her eyes, and kissed her on the forehead. See you later. Well be at the Pain Perdu.

Bye.

They left. Meg couldnt believe it. She had the whole house to herself. She put on her new CDthe Dixie Chicksand turned the volume up loud. Just the way she liked it. As the first song came on, she danced back into the kitchen and put a piece of bread into the toaster.