Nightshade by Tom Henighan

Author:Tom Henighan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn Press
Published: 2010-07-07T00:00:00+00:00

Thirteen

Rizzo looked at Sam; his face was expressionless. It was almost as if he had not quite understood the question. He sat there like an old bird, gathering his feathers around him, and his eyes had the unblinking stare of a bird.

“I know nothing about that, Mr. Montcalm. I’m not a doctor, nor a policeman, and I have no idea what a drug addict looks like.” His voice was flat and expressionless, and he continued in the same tone.

“I’m a businessman, and I have my interests. I love nature and gardens, art and music, as you yourself seem to. I know very little about today’s youth, and nothing about any kind of street life. Simon seemed like a perfectly ordinary young man to me. Hypersensitive, yes, but as for anything else … who knows?” Rizzo made a gesture of dismissal, picked up his glass, and sipped at the dregs of his champagne.

“I understand that there was a party here, at your estate, in the week before Dr. Linton’s death,” Paul said. “You must have showed the guests your gardens. Did anyone seem to take a particular interest in the poisonous plants? Did you give any specimens away?”

“Ah, you know, I thought about that myself. While I was watching the television reports on the murder. Belladonna. It’s like the Renaissance! Who would kill someone today with belladonna? Of course, I know that the KGB and certain other groups have used poisons very effectively. I presume you have no doubts about your analysis? The police have been wrong about such things before, you know.”

“We don’t have any doubts,” Paul told him. “But about your garden …”

“Anything is possible. I had to take a telephone call in the house while the guests were roaming around here. I needed to take the call inside because I had to consult some papers. Then I remember coming out and seeing most of the guests gathered round to have a look at the swimming pool. Some of them swam too. But there was one of them who lingered a bit in the garden. It didn’t strike me at the time, of course, but when I thought about that afternoon later, I recalled it.

“What do you mean lingered in the garden?” Paul asked.

“Oh, hung around, took time, asked questions afterward.”

“Who was that?”

“It was Mrs. Ballard. She explained that she was a keen gardener and admired my planting very much.”

“Did she specifically mention belladonna?” Paul asked.

“Oh, no! Not that I recall.”

“And you didn’t give her any plants?”

“Heavens, no! I don’t often give plants away. And she certainly didn’t ask for any.”

“I’d like to ask a few questions about the party at the Winthrop on the evening of Dr. Linton’s death,” Sam put in. “There seems to be some confusion as to who was where when, and who saw Charlie Linton that evening. Of course you all saw him at the reception, and supposedly he left early, around nine o’clock. But we also know that he came back down to the bar around eleven.

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