Murder For Revenge

For the next hour, Carlotta sat through a wrenching rehash of every horrendous stunt Herb Lattimore had ever pulled at her expense. He began with the urine-soaked cafeteria chair in second grade. Next came the time he stole her training bra from the gym locker, and Carlotta saw it raised with the American flag during an all-school assembly. In eighth grade she was sentenced to a month of detentions after Herb scratched her initials in the fresh blacktop paving the schoolyard.

Some of his confessed mischief was news to Carlotta. She had not known that Herb was behind the premature eruption of her science-fair volcano or the mysterious disappearance of the thirty-page final paper on the life and times of Harry Houdini, over which she’d slaved for months. Because of the zero she received as a result, Carlotta had failed Social Studies and lost her coveted position as recording secretary of the Future Biographers of America.

“Last but not least, I’d like to present a recorded message from our special guest herself.” Herb worked a remote, activating the sound system.

Carlotta’s teenaged voice, ripe and husky, bellowed through the speakers. “That’s it, Herb. Right there. Don’t stop. Oh, my! Hoooo, baby. Yes!”

Everyone roared with laughter while the tape played on in a jeering, relentless loop. “Hooo, baby. Yes! Hooobabyyeshoooooooooo-bactabeeeee Yesssssss!”

Carlotta sat, unflinching, until the joke died of natural causes.

“Still not mad, Betsy Wetsy?” taunted Herb.

“Certainly not, Herb. In fact, I’m touched to think you’d go to all that trouble on my account.”

“Hey, it’s my pleasure. Honest,” chortled Herb.

“Well, that’s grand. Thankfully, I have something to give you in return. You asked that I bring something to share, something from the heart, and I have.”

Carlotta plucked a small box from her purse. “For you, Herb. I made it myself.”

“What is it? A bomb?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course not. It’s poison.”

Frowning, Herb stepped away.

“Hey, what’s up, Chervil? You scared?” Googie teased.

“Yeah, right. I’m sweating bullets.” Herb swaggered toward Carlotta and took the box. He cut the yellow tape around it, slashing through the caution warnings. Inside was a single chocolate, marked with a skull and crossbones. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Carlotta. That’s pretty cute.”

“Oh, no, Herb.” Carlotta’s face was grave. “It is not cute at all. This is not a game, I assure you. And I’m warning you, in front of all these witnesses, that the chocolate in that box contains a highly lethal poison. One of the deadliest in the plant kingdom, in fact. I extracted it myself from the root of my Aconitwn napellus, prize specimen of the family Ramunculacecte. Poor thing suffered some pain, I’m afraid. Actually, he’s been acting a bit dejected since the surgery, but I’m told he’ll enjoy a complete recovery.”

“Sure, right. Whatever you say.” Herb chuckled.

Carlotta’s brow peaked in surprise. “Have you never heard of aconites? How surprising. I was certain you would have. They happen to be fellow herbs. Pere

Herb held the chocolate gingerly.

“Check it out: he’s terrified.” Googie guffawed.

“Shut your stupid trap,” hissed Herb. “Let me get this straight, Carlotta. You’re handing me this so-called poison chocolate and warning me not to eat it?”

“Definitely. Anyone foolish enough to ingest that would start to choke. He’d experience terrible restlessness, drooling, and nausea. Soon, his heartbeat would grow weak and irregular. He’d suffer dreadful chest pains, dizziness, prostration. There would be catastrophic damage to several major organs almost immediately. By the time EMS arrived, it would be too late to reverse the effects. Death would be inevitable, but unfortunately, it could take hours for that sweet mercy. It’s a rather excruciating way to go, I’m told.” Carlotta had to smile at that, but she quickly reverted to a sombre expression. “Sounds like the sort of end you’d only wish on your very worst enemy, Herb. Trust me.”

Herb’s gaze bounced nervously from the chocolate to Carlotta’s face and back again. Beads of sweat erupted on his brow.

Googie slapped his chubby knee. “Look how she’s got him going. Score one for Carlotta.”

The others chimed in. “You should see the look on your face, Herb,” said Raquel.

“Priceless,” Wendy blurted. “You look like you’re about to go pee-pee in your pants.”

Herb’s cheeks flamed. “Cut it out!”

“Buck up, there, Herb old man,” chided Chip Savage. “It’s only a game.”

“No, it isn’t,” Carlotta insisted. “I’m telling you. This is perfectly serious.”

“You’ve got him seriously scared. That’s for sure.” Googie flapped imaginary wings. “Kentucky fried chicken, Herb does chicken right.”

“Don’t call me that, Googie. I mean it.”

Julia and Apulia took up the cry. “Chicken. Buck-buck-buckaw.”

“Stop that, you two. I’m not kidding. And I’m not scared by some dumb joke.” Herb’s fingers quavered as he lifted the chocolate from the box.

“Don’t do that, Herb. I’m warning you,” said Carlotta.

“Carlotta’s warning you,” Googie taunted. “You better watch out.”

“I’ll eat the damned chocolate,” Herb mewled. “I’ll show you, Googie Nathanson. I’ll show all of you.” By shaky millimetres he moved the candy closer to his mouth.

“Wait just a darned minute,” Carlotta demanded. “You’ve heard me, Herb. All of you have heard me. Do you want your dear buddy to die, Google? Is that what you’re after?”

“You’re really a scream, Carlotta,” Googie said. “Go on, Herb. We dare you.”

Carlotta puffed her disgust. “I simply ca

“Come on, Carlotta,” Googie whined. “You can’t go until he sucks down that deadly poison you brought. You’d be missing all the fun.”

“Encouraging a dear friend to die is not my idea of fun, Googie.”

The chocolate was five inches from Herb’s mouth now. Four.

“Eat it, eat it,” chorused the guests.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Carlotta said.

Scrunching his eyes, Herb popped the chocolate in his mouth, chewed and quickly swallowed. A moment later, his eyes bugged and he made a harsh choking sound.

“Check him out,” roared Googie. “That’s priceless, Herb.”

“You’re too much, Herb. What a card,” Myron whooped.

Carlotta sighed. “Poor Herb. Someone should call nine one one, not that they’ll be able to do any good.” She watched Herb clutch his throat and crumple to the floor. Then, she headed toward the foyer. “Au revoir, everyone. And to you, dear Herb: Good-bye.”

An ebullient Carlotta misted and sprayed. “So sorry I’m late, my precious gloxinia. I do hope you weren’t worried, darling Cymbidium. I’m afraid I simply lost track of the time.”

The death of Herbert Alton Lattimore IV still commanded headlines. On her way home from the unemployment office, Carlotta had stopped to pick up the day’s bounty of papers and magazines.

The coroner had closed the case this morning, deeming the incident a suicide. Oddly, Carlotta had not been called as a witness at the inquest, though she’d been fully prepared to tell the absolute, unadulterated truth. Several local friends had testified that Herb Lattimore was despondent in recent months. Googie Nathanson was quoted as saying, “He must have been even more depressed than I imagined. Why else would he do such a desperate, crazy thing?”

Why indeed? Carlotta mused. What could possibly drive a man to put his life on the line for some silly game? It was all too dreary and foolish to even consider.

She turned her full attention to her precious plants. Lovingly, she dusted the droopy leaves and parched blossoms of her ailing Aconitum napellus. The stem was lolling a bit as well. Carlotta propped it with a Popsicle stick and a bit of twine. “There now, sweetheart. I hope you aren’t terribly, horribly angry with me for clipping your roots. You know I wouldn’t have done such a thing if it weren’t for a just and worthy cause.”