After witnessing the odd display, Isabelle shook her head and returned to her egg and lettuce sandwiches that were by now, well and truly stake. No matter how hard she tried to resume her five minute fiction, she couldn't shake the events she had just witnessed. Why would the old man be thinking his wife had wanted to kill him? Was there something on over there that she didn't know about? Isabelle made a mental note to keep a closer eye on the Sobieski's, this could turn out to be something of importance. Important or not, it would certainly make for excellent fodder for her gossip with the church group tomorrow afternoon. Scraping the stale bread scraps into the left-over's bucket for her fox terrier, Isabelle shuffled toward the back door, then stepped outside.
"Here, Pixie, here Pixie," she let out a weak whistle and called to her terrier again. "Pixie, here girl." Still no trace of the dog, she placed the bucket on the landing and went in search of her Pixie.
"There you are, girl. I've been calling to you. Who's a naughty puppy?" The dog remained frozen to the spot, it's nose pressed hard against the fence, sniffing wildly at the cracks between the palings. On closer inspection, Isabelle discovered that Pixie was attracted to the vegie patch in the Sobieski's yard. There were assorted vegetable peelings and other foul smelling edibles, scattered over the top of the soil.
"What an offensive fertiliser," scowled Isabelle. "Well, come along Pixie," she ordered her terrier, then turned and waddled back to the landing.
Hanna Sobieski was always turning over the soil in her vegie patch, there was hardly a day that went by that Isabelle didn't see her out there planting or weeding or digging the vegetables up. Her efforts paid off though, she had almost every vegetable imaginable and they were bountiful. Just recently however, Hanna had been pulling many of her spoils up, she dug out her pumpkins, the carrots and yesterday the potatoes and onions were turfed. Isabelle decided that she must be cleaning the garden out to replenish the soil, ready for replanting at a later date. All that was left in there now was a few stalks of corn and a sprinkling of shallotts.
Before Isabelle had returned to the house, she heard more thunderous roaring from next door.
"Get, no do that..."
"You must, Izaak, do as you told. Now swallow!"
There was silence for a few seconds, before, "Damn you man, you take medicine or I kill you myself!"
the breath caught in Isabelle's throat as she heard Hanna's threat. Was she really trying to murder Izaak?
"Heaven's above!" cried Isabelle, then as quickly as her prosthetic hip would carry her, she made her way back inside, locking the door behind her.
Her heart raced and she could hear the blood rushing through her veins, she had to call someone. Officer Nagel.... that's who she would call, he would know what to do. He had been so wonderful to her when Bertie passed away, his empathy and understanding toward her had been of the uttmost decorum. Isabelle had been nearly catatonic when she returned home from church group and found Bertie slumped over in his favourite chair. Officer Nagel had been the only person to tend to her while dear old Bertie was being wheeled away.
Her hands trembling, she picked up the phone and began to dial Officer Nagel. The line connected and started ringing through.
"Hillcrest Police, this is Officer Nagel."
The words flowed incomprehensively from Isabelle's mouth, "It's Izaak, the medicine... it won't kill him before she does..."
"Who is this? Ma'am, please calm down. Now who is Izaak, who is 'she', and what medicine is she trying to kill him with?" he asked, his voice calm and monotone.
"It's isabelle Cronk," she blurted out hysterically. "She's trying to kill Izaak with his medicine."
Puzzled, Officer Nagel let out a sigh and replied, "Isabelle Cronk is trying to kill Izaak with his medicine?"
Pure frustration overwhelmed Isabelle, she slammed the phone down in disgust and paced the dining room floor, trying to think what to do next. Shadows were falling outside the windows as night began creeping in. Fear filled every cell of Isabelle's being, was she indeed living next door to a murderess? Had Hanna seen her looking at them this afternoon? Did she know she had heard her death threat to Izaak? Would she come after Isabelle once Izaak was taken care of? If there was one thing Isabelle was sure of from reading all her psycho-fiction books, it was that murderers make sure they tie up all their loose ends. Was she now a loose end?