Free The Death of Dulgath by Michael J. Sullivan Page B

maybe children. There are a lot of poisonous flowers—chrysanthemum, lily of the valley, hydrangea, foxglove, wisteria. Eat any of them and you’ll get sick but probably won’t die. To do someone in, you want hemlock—eight leaves will kill you. Monkshood is excellent because it absorbs through the skin and leaves no trace. Belladonna is also nice; just one leaf or ten little berries will do the job. Old Bell is a favorite of female murderers because they always have it on hand. Rubbing the leaves on their cheeks makes them rosy. Later, you can brew tea with the same leaves and rid yourself of a troublesome husband. The best choice, of course, is arsenic, but finding some is nearly impossible, and making the extract is difficult.”
    “Then why did you think she’d been poisoned?” Fawkes asked.
    “Because you aren’t dealing with a professional. Dropping a block of stone and cutting a saddle strap is pathetic, lazy work. I don’t even think the killer is a novice. What you’re dealing with is a first-time idiot. A lot of people have heard azaleas are poisonous. So if you’re a moron, but looking for a means to bury someone, those pretty blossoms would be hard to resist. I’m guessing the countess was sick recently?”
    Fawkes nodded. “We were enjoying breakfast, and she complained about a burning in her mouth. She was eating a pastry at the time, then she drooled a bit and vomited. Disgusting.”
    “She has a taster now?” Royce asked.
    “Yes.”
    “And what makes you think that this feckless would-be killer has given up and hired a professional?”
    “Rumors, mostly. Well, that and the fact that nothing has happened lately. I don’t know anything about these sorts of things, but my guess is it would take time to find the right man, have him travel down here, and plan the deed. That’s why I’m glad you arrived. So how would you go about killing Countess Dulgath?”
    Royce shook his head. “I don’t know—yet. You’re right about proper planning. Things aren’t to be rushed if they’re to be done right.”
    “When will you know?”
    “I need to get a feel for this place, observe Lady Dulgath’s habits, find her weaknesses and vulnerabilities. A good assassin is like a good tailor—everything is fit to order.”
    “So this could take a while.” Fawkes sounded disappointed.
    “Well, like you said, if it didn’t she’d be dead already, so I wouldn’t complain. Given that I’m in a race here, I should get to work.” He turned to Hadrian. “Can you get us a room or something in the village while I take a look around?”
    “You can stay in the castle,” Fawkes said. “There are extra rooms, and I’m sure I can convince Wells about the value of having you there.”
    Royce shook his head. “I’d rather retain my autonomy and perspective. But that does bring up a point. We need an alibi, an excuse for being here.”
    Hadrian looked around them. “What about horse traders or trainers—something like that?”
    Fawkes shook his head. “In these parts, horses are our religion. And a layman can’t fool the devout.”
    “Besides,” Royce said, “it has to allow us to poke around and ask questions without drawing attention.”
    “Maybe Payne could say you’re deacons of the church?”
    “Most of the town saw me flash my swords,” Hadrian said. “By now the other half has heard the story. One guy thought we might be Seret because we were helping Pastor Payne. Could we play off that?”
    “Swords? Helping Payne? What are you talking about?” Fawkes asked.
    “When we arrived, the townsfolk were going to tar-and-feather him. Seeing as he was our client, I thought it was best if they didn’t,” Royce said.
    Fawkes nodded. “The people around here are not overjoyed with the church, though that will change now that Bishop Parnell is building a ministry. I wouldn’t advise posing as a Seret. The military arm of the church are fanatics and its best not to get on the wrong side of