Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) by Elaine Macko Page B

FOURTEEN
     
     
    If Detective Maroni thought it odd that Mrs. Brissart asked me to join them, he didn’t say anything, and neither did John, to my great relief.
    Mrs. Brissart took my arm again and looked up at me. “I wish this was all over. I’m afraid it’s wearing on me.”
    After everyone took a seat, John told them what he found out from the lab. “We’ve tested all the food along with the liquor in the cabinet.”
    “Do you know what killed our son?” asked a soft-spoken Lillian Brissart.
    “Yes, Mrs. Brissart, we do. As assumed, we found cyanide in several of the macaroons.”
    Roberta Brissart gave a small gasp. Her son took her hand.
    “That’s what killed him,” Kenneth whispered.
    “Yes, sir, I’m afraid that it did. It’s a quick-acting poison. Cyanide poisoning results in something called anoxia, meaning it causes a complete lack of oxygen in the brain and all the other tissues of the body. If it’s not immediately reversed, then death occurs rather quickly. I’m sorry.”
    Roberta looked up with moist eyes. “You mean Bradley perhaps could have been saved if he got immediate attention?”
    “Well, Mrs. Brissart, with a doctor present with an ampoule of amyl nitrite and the knowledge of what to do, perhaps. The killer knew that no help would be immediately available,” John said.
    “Detective, wouldn’t Bradley taste the cyanide and spit it out?” asked Lillian.
    “Unfortunately the killer planned it well. The cyanide, being in the macaroons, would go undetected, at least at first. It sometimes tastes like almonds though probably not as much as people think, and if I understand correctly from the lab, the macaroons are made with…” John consulted his notes and pointed to a spot on the paper. “Almond extract.”
    “I put extra almonds in them, just the way Bradley liked!” Roberta slapped her tiny hands down on the arms of the chair causing me to jump. “Why did I make those cookies? If only....”
    “Mother, please. Don’t do this to yourself. You made them because Bradley loved them,” Kenneth said as tears sprang to his own eyes. “Detective Van der Burg, where on earth would someone get cyanide?”
    John gave a disgusted shrug. “I’m sorry to say, anywhere, if you know what you’re doing. Or if you have friends in the wrong places.” I thought about the Tylenol murders again and the Jonestown massacre and their group suicide. “There’s a bit more,” John continued.
    “More? No, please. I don’t think I can take any more,” Lillian said, as she walked to her husband’s side and took hold of his other hand. Her gray slacks hung on her body; the cream cardigan failed to conceal her sagging shoulders. Splotches covered her face from all her crying and her light brown hair, though nicely styled, hung limply to her shoulders. I guessed that Lillian, a woman who most probably always dressed immaculately, hadn’t slept or eaten for the past two days.
    Kenneth looked from his mother to his wife. “What else is there?”
    “We also found poison in the Cherry Heering liquor,” John said.
    “Dear God! Someone certainly wanted me dead,” cried Roberta.
    “Well, there’s something puzzling about the poison in the Cherry Heering. It’s something called a jequirity bean. Someone shoved the mashed pulp of the bean into the bottle. It looked very amateurish. Chances are you would see the stuff floating in the bottle before you drank it.”
    “Jequirity bean, what the hell is that?” Kenneth asked wiping his eyes with a lace handkerchief his wife handed him.
    John looked across the room at Jim. “Detective, could you explain for us?”
    Detective Maroni looked a little unsure of himself. He approached the small gathering and took out his notes. “From what the lab tells me, it comes off a vine that grows in tropical areas like Florida and the Caribbean. It is used for ground cover. The beans, which are bright red with a bit of black, are used in crafts and jewelry