Poppy Seed Toxicology

The day started like any other. Except for the burden. The town hadn't seemed to catch on yet and I suppose that's a good thing. I wipe the mud off my boots before walking into work, glad to get off that crowded bus. The store was quiet this morning. The burden hadn’t seemed to make its way in here yet. I tap at my phone but still nothing. Hours past and they still haven't found the burden. My burden. Why haven't they found him yet? The store was quiet, way too quiet. I decided I'm gonna leave my shift early and go back to the spot. Just to check on him. The mud once again caked my boots as I walked to the spot that grass no longer grew. The spot no one would find him. But I guess I was wrong because he wasn't there. The ground was dug up and the small marker I left on the grave wasn't there either. My phone rang. It was the gardener. 

“Mr. Anders is back.” And with that, he hung up. Dammit. I should have known better than to bury him in wood. Why won't he die? This is the third time this month I’ve killed him and nothing has worked. I marched uphill to my office. Almost everything was checked off my list, stabbing (accident), gunshot, and last but not least, buried alive. I huffed, leaning back in my office chair. What to do now. I’m not a murderer. I feel like I need to remind myself that sometimes so I don't feel so bad for failing so many times. I didn't mean to stab him at first. He broke into my house in the middle of the night and scared the shit out of me. I reacted without thinking. I mean that's his fault, not mine. This time I buried him in the garden with the help of the gardener, Mr. Seth. Normally a man as straight as an arrow but no one really liked Mr. Anders, especially not Mr. Seth. His footprints were always ruining his garden. He takes good care of the estate. It's not really mine, it was left to me in a will by my great aunt. Technically it really belongs to Mr. Anders, her grandson, until I’m 18 which isn't too far away. I have to make sure it gets to be in my name to protect my great aunt's reputation. They say it was too many poppy seeds that got her. That's what I was told anyways. That's when it came to me. Poisoning. I haven't tried that yet but poppy seeds won't do. You’d need too many of them. I riffle through the cabinets in the old house to find something that could work, pushing the thought of my great aunt out of my head. I know damn well it wasn't poppy seeds but that fact won't bring her back from the dead. I come across the cleaning supplies hidden in the back of one of the cabinets. Not great for poison but I did read somewhere in one of Great Aunt’s novels that you could make a noxious gas with ammonia and bleach. She had so many great mystery books. The only problem was how to get everyone to the house. I didn’t want to murder the whole town but it would just be suspicious if I invited only Mr. Anders. I need to make sure I keep what's rightfully mine.

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I can barely move. The air is musty and stale. I have no clue how long I've been here. I have no idea where ‘here’ is. If this is what I think it is, I might not have much oxygen left. I knock on the side of the box confirming my fear. Dirt poured down from the poorly constructed edges. It was a coffin. Grandma had books like this. This isn't the first time that girl tried to take my life for my grandmother's fortune based on the subject of her novels. My grandmother was a good-hearted lady and a writer. If only she would have known what that girl would become when she took her in. I try to adjust myself so my hands are above my head. My jacket’s thick so I pull the collar over my face to protect my eyes. I’ve never done this before. I've only read it in her books but it's my only chance. I take a deep breath knowing it could be my last and pound at the wood with everything I got, more annoyed than fearful at this point. Harder. Harder. I can smell the blood from my hands mixed with the earth. Dirt starts to fill the box. I try to push it back with my feet as I desperately claw at the box’s ceiling. Finally, I can push my hand through the splintered wood and keep digging. The adrenaline is the only thing keeping me going. The dirt, suffocating as I try to angle myself upwards. Suddenly one hand reaches through the surface. The cool air makes my lungs tighten in anticipation. Thank god the girl buried me in such a shallow grave. When my head breaks through the suffice I take a second to breathe. I hear a rustling in the bushes. Again my heart is pounding. Maybe I should have waited a second longer but then, the groundskeeper comes running up to me with a shovel. 

“I was working down the path when I heard someone struggling.” I move the soil with my hands while the man tries to dig me out. I brush off the dirt from my clothes and look at the Groundskeeper. 

“No one can know about this, Seth.” The city was teeming with life this morning. I was worried the dirt on my clothes would bring attention to me but everyone seems to be off in their own worlds. Except for a glance every now and then of course. When I walked up to my small apartment. I knew I had to do something. Grandma left everything to me. I know that. I was always her favourite. I took after her writings, unlike my parents. How Caroline got a hold of the estate I’ll never know. I still have the scar on my shoulder from the rifle, when all of this started. I was lucky it barely grazed me. Caroline took the death pretty hard. Grandmother died from an opium overdose. I requested that the cause of death was left out in the papers. I told the girl it was the poppy seeds that caused the opiates on the toxicology report so she wouldn't know what really happened. Caroline looked up to Grandma and knew Grandma loved anything with poppy seeds in it. It wasn't unbelievable but after how she's been behaving I'm starting to question whether or not she should inherit the house. A sound at my door brought me back to the current day. A letter from Caroline. She really is the dramatic type. 

‘I'm holding a baked good exchange in honour of my late great aunt. I’m sure you all know her well, she put this town on the map.’ 

Caroline loved to remind everyone how superior she was. I finish the letter and mark the time in my phone. 8 o’clock. 

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I set everything up the best I could. The maid left after Great Aunt's passing so I'm on my own for this one. The whole town better show up. My great aunts the reason they all still have jobs probably. I walk down to the wine cellar. Maybe I could convince a small group of guests to come down here. There was a small bathroom down the hall from the main cellar. I fill the tub with bleach, storing the ammonia by the sink. The fumes were overwhelming. I could explain the smell was from cleaning up before the cookie exchange. Yeah. That’s what I'll do.

The guests arrived one by one. I greeted them, watching for Mr. Anders. He arrived ten minutes late. His face was stern as always. I smiled and took his desert from him. Lemon poppy seed cookies. This must be some sort of sick joke. At least I know he deserves what's coming to him. After hiding the cause of death from everyone and trying to take my manor. If I don't kill him before my birthday he’ll take it from me. I know it. He probably killed for this so he would make sure I never get it. I deserve something. I read every single one of her books. Studied them even. I worked just as hard as him to win Great Aunty’s approval even if I didn't get it. 

The party went off without a hitch. The people in this small town love this kinda thing. Dressing up and playing fancy. I ask if some of the ‘gentlemen’ would like to join me in the wine cellar and single out Mr. Anders. I can feel my heart pounding as we walk down the steps. I excuse myself when we get there. I close the bathroom door behind me. I take a deep breath and fill the remaining space in the tub with ammonia. I almost immediately start to cough and my eyes fill with tears. I try to gather myself and walk out of the basement like nothing’s wrong. Just as I approach the kitchen I remember the plan and race back to the stairs. When I make it back down to the cellar, though, the door’s already locked. I must've done it already. I run outside, gulping down fresh air to get the fumes out of my system. 

When the police arrived I learned the door handle had broken off from the rush of people trying to open it. They need some more time to investigate. I walk slowly to my room and take everything I can carry. I guess I never really thought about what would happen if I did actually kill him. Mr. Seth advised me to leave town for a while and lay low. He said he’d keep the house for me until I return. 

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I wish I hadn't had to lock the door but I couldn't let her think she got away with anything or she'd stick around. I know Caroline knew it wasn't the poppy seeds. She wasn't an idiot but I couldn't have her digging. This was my estate. Always has been. I feel bad for Caroline but I couldn't have her inherit the manor. I couldn't bring myself to kill her either. Neither of them deserved the manor anyway. The mayhem they caused. Everybody failed to realize that that great writer was on morphine, not opiates. Even these hick police. I loved her and was the only one that stayed in her hour of need. I’ve read countless of her stories time and time again. It’s so cliche, they’ll never believe it was the help.