The Widow’s Peel

Grandma Bertha uncovers the secrets of a poisonous tree!

To Caroline

Although she preferred people to call her by her nickname, Grandma Bertha made an exception when the other person was her own age or older. That was the case with Mrs Ray, who had been calling her Mrs Hepburn ever since they started exchanging emails.

“Would you like milk or lemon in your tea?” asked Mrs Ray, as she served Grandma Bertha.

“Lemon would be lovely,” Grandma Bertha replied. “I must say your last email intrigued me. You mentioned your neighbor’s death, and that you inherited her garden.”

“That’s right,” confirmed Mrs Ray, squeezing some lemon into Grandma Bertha’s tea. “Poor Hetty! She was much younger than us, but her heart was weak. She was kind enough to include me in her will, knowing I was crazy about her geraniums. Hetty had one son, Derek, who broke the wall for me. Now I have more garden than I can tend to.”

Grandma Bertha sipped her tea. “That’s where you got the Widow’s Peel.”

“Yes. So I decided to call you.”

Grandma Bertha went over in her mind everything she knew about the Widow’s Peel. It had that name because every woman who used it ended up burying a husband. An extremely dangerous poison, it consisted of the darkened citrus rind of a rare plant. Some said it was bitter and sweet at the same time, but Grandma Bertha didn’t believe that, since no one who tasted the Widow’s Peel lived to tell what it was like. The poison caused vivid memories and hallucinations, and it’s said that victims confessed all their crimes before dying.

“I’ve read in more than one book that the Widow’s Peel was extinct,” said Grandma Bertha. “All its trees had been destroyed decades ago.”

“Apparently, one survived,” said Mrs Ray. “The one in my deceased neighbor’s garden. As soon as we’ve finished our tea, I’m going to show it to you. But why are you so interested in the Widow’s Peel, Mrs Hepburn? You are a detective, aren’t you?” asked Mrs Ray. “I’ve read everything about your cases.”

“I’ve solved a murder or two,” said Grandma Bertha.

“Are you looking for a truth serum?”

Grandma Bertha considered Mrs Ray’s question. She had read many stories about the properties of that poison. Murderers used it to find out the secrets of the people they had poisoned. One dose of the Widow’s Peel, and the victim would confess to anything before dropping dead. Without question, the Widow’s Peel would be useful to a detective. But that’s not what Grandma Bertha was here for.

“Do you think there’s a murder here?” asked Mrs Ray.

Grandma Bertha shook her head. The stakes here were much higher than one murder. The Widow’s Peel had the power to corrupt people, and Grandma Bertha’s mission that afternoon was to make sure nobody would use it again. She wanted to destroy the last remains of that evil tree before it fell into the wrong hands, but she couldn’t tell Mrs Ray that.

They finished their tea in silence, and Mrs Ray showed Grandma Bertha the path to the old garden. They walked down a white cobbled path, then had to step into the grass and go over the remains of the wall that used to separate the two properties. Hetty’s garden was in better condition than Mrs Ray’s, and Grandma Bertha asked herself why. The two old ladies walked past the famous geraniums and stood in front of the tree.

It looked like any citrus tree Grandma Bertha had seen in her life. The leaves were dark green, and the fruits looked like small dark tangerines. Nothing about the tree’s appearance betrayed how dangerous those fruits were, except for the strange, almost intoxicating scent of its small white flowers.

“This is an old tree,” said Grandma Bertha. “ I wonder if…”

“Her husband,” Mrs Ray interrupted. “His name was Godfrey. Awful man. They moved to this house ten years ago, and I met him briefly. In their first month in the house, Hetty made preserves from the Widow’s Peel. It wasn’t a pretty sight to see Godfrey telling her of everyone he cheated her with. It lasted for ten minutes. He was dead before the ambulance arrived.”

“So she knew about it,” said Grandma Bertha. “About those preserves…”

“She never made it again,” reassured Mrs Ray.

“I see. You know we must destroy this tree.”

“Derek is coming by this afternoon. He’s bringing some more men with him. We’ll tear this tree down and burn the remains.”

“Make sure you don’t drop any seeds,” asked Grandma Bertha. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. Before we exchanged emails, I talked to a man, an occultist named Jonas, who believed he could use the Widow’s Peel to see spirits. Thankfully, I arrived at you before he did.”

Mrs Ray took a deep breath. “He arrived here before you did. About a week ago.”

Grandma Bertha raised her eyebrows. “I hope he hasn’t got a seed.”

“I gave him a common lemon seed. Just for fun.”

“That wasn’t much fun when you consider the risks,” said Grandma Bertha. “I noticed Hetty’s garden is in better shape than yours. I also noticed that piece of land over there was dug up and covered.”

“It’s a new flowerbed,” explained Mrs Ray. “I’m adding some new roses…”

“What colour?”

“What?”

“What colour are the roses?” asked Grandma Bertha.

“You’re not implying…”

“I’m implying this flower bed of yours is the size of a human corpse,” explained Grandma Bertha. “And that Jonas has been missing for a week.”

Mrs Ray’s face was undaunted, except for a few drops of sweat on her forehead. “I couldn’t let him…”

“Is there something else you want to tell me?” asked Grandma Bertha.

Mrs Ray covered her face with her hands as she fell into tears. “We didn’t know! I never wanted to hurt anyone in my life—and I didn’t! You must believe me, Mrs Hepburn, I didn’t lay a finger on him. Jonas came by one afternoon, and I refused to let him see the tree. He jumped into my backyard in the middle of the night. Then he started yelling things in the dark, and it sounded like different languages. Almost as if…” she made a long pause, before saying: “I speak Italian, Mrs Hepburn, and I heard him confessing to a murder in that language. Then he dropped dead.”

“Do you think he saw other people’s crimes?” asked Grandma Bertha. “Maybe the crimes of people who took the Widow’s Peel?”

Mrs Ray shrugged. “I don’t know. Anyway, Derek is a good boy. He helped me bury the body.”

Grandma Bertha believed in Mrs Ray, and it didn’t seem fair to ruin her because of a man like Jonas. Derek arrived that afternoon, and Grandma Bertha and Mrs Ray watched as he and his men cut the tree and set the remains on fire. That was the end of the Widow’s Peel.

As she drove her van back to her hometown, Grandma Bertha considered her own power of extracting the truth from people. The only reason Mrs Ray had for calling her to the crime scene was to confess everything. Maybe Grandma Bertha had more in common with the Widow’s Peel than she cared to admit.

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