"Albert, Susan Wittig - An Unthymley Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Albert Susan Wittig)

Notes for Episode Four:

Because of its traditional medicinal and ritual uses, TOBACCO (Nicontiana tabacum) has long been considered an herb. Columbus brought it to Europe from the New World, where he discovered (as he wrote in his journal) "native peoples carrying some sort of cylinder in which sweetly smelling herbs were glowing. The people sucked the other end of the cylinder and, as it were, drank in the smoke." The plant was used as a relaxant and in ritual celebrations. The alkaloid nicotine is a virulent poison that causes cardiac irregularities and can be fatal.

PEPPERS, BELLADONNA, and ANGEL'S TRUMPET are all members of the nightshade (Solanacea) family. Chili peppers have a long history of medicinal and culinary use; the "heat" of the pepper has a pain-killing effect. Belladonna, however, was once a primary ingredient in witches' flying ointment; it causes hallucinations that may have convinced people that they were flying. Angel's trumpet (also called datura, jimson weed, and thorn apple) has large, white, bell-shaped leaves. Belladonna and angel's trumpet are narcotic and hallucinogenic. Please keep the seeds of angel's trumpet away from your children!

For the recipe for LAVENDER MADELEINES (featured in Susan Albert's book Lavender Lies and served at China's and McQuaid's wedding), email Susan at [email protected]. She'll be glad to send it to you.

- - - - - - - - - -

EPISODE FIVE

We could have let the police talk to Harold Bucher, but since Jessica Powell had already been arrested, they were probably satisfied that they had the killer in custody. But Ruby and I were curious about Hannah's brother -- and anyway, it was a beautiful Monday morning, and our day off. So we got directions to the Bucher ranch, and after breakfast with Ramona and Barbara, we got in the car and drove north on Cedar Crossing Road for thirty miles or so.

Cattle ranching isn't as profitable as it used to be, and in this part of Texas, a great many of the large ranches have been broken up and sold as recreation land. Barbara told us that the Bucher ranch -- the B-Bar-R -- had been a huge spread once, but all that was left of it now was the old ranch house where Harold Bucher lived. When we turned off the county road and down the narrow lane, we saw the house, built of native stone and nestled into a grove of cottonwood and willow beside a small creek. Around it bloomed a wild garden, filled with wildflowers and herbs: echinacea, tansy, and Joe-Pye weed.

"Looks like Hannah and her brother shared one interest, anyway," Ruby remarked, as we got out of the car. "They were both gardeners."

I glanced toward the house. A colorful flock of banty chickens was chasing bugs through the grass, while a black dog napped on the porch. He raised his head when he saw us and gave a short, sharp bark. A moment later, we saw a stooped old man in denim overalls and a wide-brimmed straw hat, emerging from a vegetable garden, hoe in hand. Ignoring us, he began to hoe weeds along a row of healthy-looking garlic.

"Are you Mr. Bucher?" Ruby called.

"That's me," the old man said shortly. "What d'ya want?"

We walked closer. "We'd like to talk to you about your sister," I said. "We were friends of hers."

"We'd like to offer you our condolences," Ruby said softly. "Her death must have been a terrible shock."

Harold Bucher stopped hoing and glanced up. He might have been in his late seventies. His face was lined and gray, and his eyes were slitted against the bright sun. "She was an old woman," he said sourly. "People die when they get old."

"But your sister didn't die of old age," I objected. "You've heard the results of the autopsy, haven't you?"

"My daughter Luella told me. She also said the sheriff arrested that Jessica woman for poisoning her." He gave a short, barking laugh and went back to chopping weeds. "Well, all I got to say is, Hannah's fancy new will won't do Jessica no good in jail."

He was right, of course. A murderer cannot profit from her crime. If Jessica Powell was convicted of murdering Hannah, she wouldn't inherit. But who would?

"Are you Hannah's only surviving kin?" I asked.

"What if I am?" He eyed me obliquely. "How come you want to know?"

I shrugged. "Just curious, that's all." I looked around the place. It must not be easy for a man his age to live so far from civilization. What would he do if he got sick? "You ever think of moving into Cedar Crossing?"

"Luella's been after me to do it," he said grudgingly. "Reckon I might, if I could find me a nice place with a garden." He kicked at the ground. "Wouldn't feel right if I couldn't dig in the dirt."

I nodded. "Did you visit your sister often?"

His mouth turned down. "Saw her last week, day before she died. We had some fam'ly business to transact. Didn't get it done, though. Got interrupted by that nosy neighbor of Hannah's. Rawlins, her name is." He put his hand into the pocket of his bib overalls. "You want to know about Hannah, Mildred Rawlins is the one you oughtta ask. She and Hannah and that Jessica woman were thick as thieves."

He took his hand out of his pocket. He was holding a can of chewing tobacco.