“Excuse me?” Nessa shot back. “A mold problem you’ve left untreated just killed a man. If I were you, I’d be very careful what you say right now. We’re contemplating a hefty lawsuit.”
Rocca ignored Nessa and focused on Harriett. “I just got off the phone with the hospital. The officers who were executing the search of your garden have all been admitted for treatment. Two of them were attacked by ants, and one brushed up against something that left him in so much pain that he had to be sedated.”
“Oh dear,” Harriett droned. “I did warn them to be careful around my plants, particularly the mala mujer. I know it’s pretty, but it will fight back if you fondle it. Sounds like one of your men didn’t listen. Did they happen to find any of the mushrooms they were after?”
Rocca’s face had turned an unsettling shade of red. “I swear to God, I’m going to be all over you from now on. You may have gotten lucky this time, but you won’t the next.”
Harriett gave him a grin. “I’m no lawyer, but that certainly sounds like harassment. Does that sound like harassment to you, Nessa?”
“It does, Harriett,” Nessa agreed. “As does locking you up for possessing a few mushrooms and making you wait in a moldy cell. I’m sure your lawyer would love to know what probable cause led to the search of your home in the first place.”
“Her husband, Chase Osborne, informed me that she was selling drugs out of their yard.”
Nessa’s jaw dropped at the betrayal, but Harriett took it all in stride.
“Chase is not my husband, and the yard to which he referred is mine. He hasn’t lived in the house for almost a year now. As for my business, all I sell is peace of mind to women who have to deal with sad little men like you and Chase. Since you and my ex-husband seem to be in regular contact, perhaps you can ask him what your future might hold. He’s had a taste of what I can do.”
“Are you threatening me, you fucking witch?” Rocca snarled.
“Fucking witch. You say that as if it’s an insult,” Harriett replied. “For your information, I don’t plan to ever see you again.”
They walked around him to Nessa’s car and climbed inside.
“You’ve become quite a badass, my dear,” Harriett noted as Nessa peeled out of the parking lot. “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Harriett reached into her thicket of hair and pulled out a fat joint.
“Harriett, you snuck a joint into jail?” Nessa marveled. “And when the hell did you and Eric start growing shrooms?”
“When I learned they can help treat depression,” Harriett said. “Why obey laws that are in no one’s best interests?”
Nessa wasn’t going to argue. “Well, I don’t know where you hid your stash, but we both know you were lucky as hell they didn’t find it.”
“Yes,” Harriett agreed. “Which means it’s time to celebrate.”
“Put that away until I get you home!” Nessa ordered.
“Only if you agree to give it a try,” Harriett said. “If you like it, I’ll send you off with a thank-you gift. A few puffs before sex, and I swear you’ll see God.”
Nessa glanced over at her. “Fine,” she said, and Harriett cackled in triumph. But when she pulled up in front of Harriett’s house a few minutes later, they found a familiar Mercedes parked in the driveway. Chase Osborne leaned against the trunk, looking pasty and hungover.
“Ugh,” Harriett grumbled at the sight of her guest. “I had a feeling he’d show up. His conscience always briefly kicks in after he does something shitty.”
“Are you going to kill him?” Nessa asked.
“No,” Harriett replied, as though the result wouldn’t be worth the effort. “If I killed people for being morons, I would have murdered Chase years ago.” She opened the door and slid out. “But I’ll give you a shout if I need any help with a body.”
After Nessa drove off, Harriett greeted Chase with all the enthusiasm she would have shown a chin hair. When they’d first met in their twenties, he’d seemed like such a fascinating mystery. Unfortunately, it hadn’t taken long to solve it. By the time they were married, Harriett had realized that everything he did was completely predictable. He valued money, sex, status, and food—in that order. Chase was a very simple creature.
“What in the hell is going on here?” he asked her. “When I pulled up about thirty minutes ago, there were policemen in the garden, and all of them were screaming. Then ambulances arrived and rushed them away.”
“Did any of them go near the compost heap?” Harriett asked.
“Not that I know of,” Chase said.
“Then I forgive you. Go home.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying this is all my fault somehow?”
“I know you narced on me, Chase. That’s pretty despicable, even by your standards.”
Either he’d invested in acting lessons or Chase was genuinely shocked by the accusation. “What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I’ve spent the last couple of hours in a cell at the Mattauk police station. The chief of police told me that you personally informed him I was selling mushrooms out of my home.”
“What? I didn’t—” He went pale. “That guy was the chief of police?”
“How did that fact escape you?” Harriett asked.
“He wasn’t in uniform!” Chase said. “He was wearing shorts and a polo shirt! I wouldn’t turn you in to the police. Do you think I’m that stupid?”
“Yes,” she said honestly.
“I was drunk, and I was talking to Jackson—”
“Jackson Dunn?” Of course. It was starting to make perfect sense.
“He’s the reason I’m out here on the island. He invited me to stay for Labor Day weekend. Last night, he had a small party. Just a few of the boys. I was talking to Jackson and another guy when your name came up—and the weed problem on the Pointe. Jackson said you had a way with plants, and I may have made a joke about you growing crazy shit in your garden. I never thought anyone there would use the information against you. It’s not like Jackson and his friends are upstanding citizens. In fact—” He paused, looking terrified.
“Tell me,” Harriett ordered.
“That’s why I came to see you. Last night Jackson asked if I’d be interested in a girl for tonight.”
“A girl?”
Chase had suddenly gone pale. “I was drunk,” he said. “But I got the sense that he was talking about something sketchy.”
“What did you say?” Harriett asked.
“I said okay.”
“You said okay?”
“I was drunk, and he’s the man who pays my fucking bills, Harriett. I have a baby on the way, I can’t—” He stopped.
“Congratulations,” Harriett said, surprised that she felt nothing. It seemed that wound had healed nicely. “You’ve successfully passed your DNA to a new generation.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not how I meant to tell you.”