“What is that?”

“Foxglove. A spectacular plant, as long as you don’t eat it.”

Grace froze. “It’s poisonous?”

“Very. The whole shebang. Sap, flowers, seeds, stems, roots, and leaves. Doesn’t take away from its beauty, though.”

Her phone pinged on the counter, but she ignored the text alert as she wracked her brain trying to call up anything she could remember about plant poisons from med school.

Wait.

Wasn’t foxglove the source of the common heart medication digitalis?

Yes.

And eating too much of it would be like taking a digitalis overdose—which could lead to potentially fatal cardiac arrhythmias.

The very cause of death she’d cited on her autopsy reports for Mavis and Fred.

She gripped the back of the chair beside her as she stared at the flower.

Sweet heaven.

Could she be looking at a murder weapon?

What, if anything, foxglove had to do with the sunflower seeds she’d found in the victims’ stomachs was puzzling, but she did know one thing.

Digitalis poisoning didn’t show up on a standard tox screen. It would go undetected unless a specific test for it was requested.

“You mind if I take a photo of this bouquet? I’d like to show it to my wife.”

At the man’s question, she tuned back in to the conversation. “No. Help yourself.”

He pulled out his cell, snapped two shots, and walked toward the back door. “I’ll have that estimate in your hands as early as possible tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” She followed him across the room, but as she said goodbye and locked the door by rote, one thought was front and center.

Dave Mullins had easy access to foxglove.

If she tested samples from Mavis and Fred, would toxic digitalis levels show up?

It was worth suggesting. The coroner’s budget was tight, but it ought to be able to accommodate a specialized test once in a while.

She crossed to the counter, picked up the cell, and found a text waiting for her from Nate.

Tried to phone. Have news. Heading home for a rehab evening. Call when you can.

Eyeing the baking pan on the counter, she tapped a finger against the screen. In view of what she’d just learned, an in-person discussion would be preferable—especially if he had news to share too.

Besides, a home delivery of her thank-you offering would be less conspicuous than stopping by his office with it tomorrow, where Eleanor would see her as she passed. While news about the sheriff dating the county pathologist wouldn’t remain a secret for long in a small community like this, why spread the word sooner than necessary?

Grace typed in a return message.

I have news too. You up for a visitor?

Thirty eternal seconds passed, the house silent except for the steadily worsening drip in the faucet that she ought to report to her landlord.

Way to go, Grace. You haven’t even been out on a date yet, and you’re already inviting yourself—

Yes. When?

Relief coursed through her.

Half an hour? I won’t stay long.