Fools of Fortune

by CJ Love

  He narrowed his eyes. “I locked the door. I know I did.”

  “You must be mistaken.”

  Thomi turned back toward Delia.

  Eddie held Delia’s eyes and mouthed, “I’m not mistaken.”

  She ignored him and told Thomi, “Detective Montague busted me out.”

  “Of a squad car?”

  She grinned, “Yeah.”

  Noise at the front door made Thomi and Eddie look up, and Delia gazed over her shoulder. It sounded as if someone didn’t turn the knob and hit the door with the front of their body. Whoever it was tried again, and the door swung open. In strutted…

  Clawdius?

  But then came a lot of brown fur —Sanya’s furry brown coat, to be exact. She spun toward the stairway and caught sight of them staring in her direction. Sanya sashayed forward and said, “Did you hear the police have arrested Sam Loring?”

  Chapter 14

  “O fool, I shall go mad!”

  Delia turned all the way around. “What?”

  Sanya strolled toward the stairs like a model on a catwalk.

  The actual cat in the room followed her with his green eyes on the coat.

  Oh no … what’s he thinking …

  “No, Clawdius,” Delia warned.

  “Who’s Claudius?” Sanya asked, swinging Delia’s way and making her coat float behind her like, like a giant cat. “I’m talking about Sam Loring, Jeanette’s husband. They’ve arrested him. The neighbors saw him…aaaaiiihhh!”

  Delia dropped the ice cream and lunged at the cat.

  “Something’s on me, something’s on me!”

  Clawdius held onto the coat at Sanya’s waist. He began to claw his way up toward the shoulder of the coat. It must’ve felt like a sewing machine running up her coccyx.

  Delia grabbed the cat around the middle and tugged hard.

  Clawdius held on tight.

  Sanya spun and slapped her shoulders at the same time. “I will beat your ass!”

  “Hold still,” Delia cried and took a slap for the team. “Ow!”

  Thomi screamed in Sanya’s face: “Take off your coat if you want to live!” Reaching forward, she tried to peel the garment off the woman.

  Sanya seemed to get the idea and shimmied out of the coat and dropped it on the floor.

  A calm voice came from the stairs. “It’s dead, Clawdius. Move on.”

  Delia glanced at Eddie. He was so calm he might as well have been sipping tea the entire time. Turning back to the matter at hand, she picked up Clawdius, still hanging onto the coat. “Drop it,” she said. “Drop it now.” She shook him out as if he was something wet.

  The cat dropped the coat. The thing laid there like roadkill.

  Delia turned to Sanya. “I am so sorry.”

  The woman grabbed the coat from the floor. She didn’t even look at the cat and said to Eddie, “Did you hear what I said? They arrested Sam.”

  “I heard you,” Eddie told her.

  “They say he used poison hemlock to kill her and then dragged the poor love to Delia’s bakery and just dumped her there.” With her coat dragging on the floor, she turned to Eddie and stared at him.

  Eddie tilted his head. “Is this your way of apologizing to me?”

  Oh, what’s this?

  Sanya teetered and then looked at Thomi. “I thought Eddie did it. I thought he killed Jeanette.”

  Thomi leaned away from her. “What?”

  “I saw him with her. I saw him drive away with Jeanette the night she died.”

  Thomi turned to Eddie.

  He said, “She’s drunk. And, she’s wrong.”

  “Right,” Sanya said, taking the stairs and dragging her coat behind her. “I’m wrong. Sorry Eddie,” she said and kept walking.

  Okay, so now Delia felt a bit awkward standing there between Thomi and Eddie. “Excuse me,” she said, ducked her head, and moved up the stairs. She still carried Clawdius.

  Why?

  Setting the cat on his feet, she climbed to the second floor. And there, she waited a moment. She didn’t want to move too quickly because she didn’t want to catch up to Sanya.

  So, that was the reason for the rift between Sanya and Eddie? She’d accused him of killing her sister. Interesting. Had Jeanette been with Eddie after all? Courtney said it too —or, Isaac did. He’d seen Jeanette with Eddie.

  Speaking of Isaac…

  Delia moved toward door 204 and tried the knob.

  It turned!

  She pushed on the door and peeked her head around the corner. What greeted her was an empty apartment. Well, sort of. There was no furniture, but paper and water bottles littered the floor. The kitchen light was on, and there was a trash can full of empty Lean Cuisine boxes and protein bar wrappers. Pieces of art hung here and there on the walls.

  They must’ve left fast.

  This was a one-bedroom apartment, and Delia moved through the room. A couple pieces of clothing hung in the closet, and there was a pair of sneakers on the floor.

  What had Courtney said on the stairs that day? Isaac had asked if she told him that they’re moving, and Courtney said … I didn’t tell him anything. We won’t get out of here alive.

  Delia had assumed they were talking about Mate. But they couldn’t have been; Mate was dead already. And! Eddie said he saw Mate at Tipsy Louie’s.

  He lied.

  Or, he was mistaken.

  Or, he killed Mate and was throwing people off the scent.

  Waiting a few more minutes, Delia left the apartment and climbed the stairs to her own. She treaded quietly past Sanya’s door. Didn’t want a repeat of the earlier performance.

  Inside, she put the ice cream away and sat on the loveseat. Delia pulled her phone out and texted Nicolo: Jeanette was here the night she died. She was with Eddie.

  Nicolo’s icon came on. After ten seconds, he wrote: I know.

  You arrested Sam!

  I know.

  Delia frowned at the phone. She found Detective Montague cryptic and unhelpful.

  And, I’m not footing the bill for his Murder Club t-shirt.

  * * *

  Delia placed a Battenberg cake into the display case. Battenberg was an almond-flavored sponge glued together with apricot jam and covered with homemade marzipan. It was delicious, and at the same time, pink and white checkerboard pretty. Delia was in the middle of a conversation with Becca. “Anyway, it’s over. You can rest easy since Nicolo arrested Sam Loring.” She shut the slider door. “You’re no longer a suspect.”

  Becca took a breath and relaxed her features. She was at the bread wall, with a trolley filled with packaged cottage loaves and milk rolls. “I didn’t think I was worried until I wasn’t anymore, if you know what I mean.”

  “I do. But I don’t think Sam did it.” Placing her hand on her waist, Delia stared out the bakery window. The tip of the sun sat on the eastern horizon and threw red beams onto the courtyard.

  “Sam lied, didn’t he?” Becca placed another couple of loaves into a basket. “He said he wasn’t home, but he was, and he was with Jeanette.”

  “But the killer is never the first person the police arrest. Don’t you watch NCIS?”

  “I do.” Becca turned around and pushed the trolley toward the counter. “But I need to say this: It’s a fictional show.”

  Delia made a tch-ing sound. “The concept is there. Sam seems too obvious, and I know at least four other people who look just as guilty.”

  “Please don’t say me.”

  “Eddie, Sanya, Chu Hua, and Daniel. Also, who killed Mate and Alfie? Sam didn’t.”

  “How do you know?” Becca asked, sticking her tennis shoe on the bottom of the cart and pushing it gently back and forth. “If this is all the work of a gang —and Jeanette was a part of it —why couldn’t Sam have killed those two you just mentioned? And, why can’t there be multiple murderers?”

  Delia nodded through the speech. “You’re right. It could easily be Sam. And, I think everyone I’ve menti
oned is capable of murder, so yes, multiple murderers make sense.”

  Straightening her apron, Delia turned and went through the swinging doors. She sprinkled the wood table with flour and placed another lump of dough on top of it. Her view was of the courtyard, mostly, and the street. Across from that was Spotted Duck Woods and behind the woods was Boroughbridge House. She couldn’t see the apartment building. There were too many trees.

  Delia worked the dough as she watched the woods. The leaves fluttered red and gold.

  Something moved. At first, Delia thought it was an animal —though it was larger than the usual rabbit or even fox. Its coat was … maroon?

  That’s a person.

  Delia stopped kneading and stepped around the edge of the table to get closer to the window.

  The man stumbled over something and lifted his hands out in front of him as though he couldn’t see…

  Louie!

  Delia grabbed a baker’s cloth and wiped her hands, dashing through the kitchen and out the back door. She heard Becca call her name, but she didn’t stop to explain what was happening. How had Louie gotten outside and into the woods?

  Delia charged across the visitor’s parking lot. She was halfway to Louie when a cramp seized her lower intestine.

  Ice cream cramp!

  She hurried anyway, leaning to her right as she ran. “Louie!” she hollered.

  The road between Bloomfield Hatch and the woods was a busy one, yet it was only six-forty-five. However, there was a semi-truck coming off the highway ramp and barreling in their direction.

  Louie stumbled forward, his bare feet finding the asphalt, and he waved his hands in front of him.

  The truck driver laid on the horn.

  Louie tilted his head and then rushed forward.

  Delia started into the road with her heart in her mouth.

  Louie stopped in the dead center of the road.

  The blaring truck horn was continuous now…

  Delia grabbed Louie’s arm. Her hand slipped, but she spun around and took his arm with both of her hands. With a mighty tug, she pulled him toward the shoulder of the road.

  The truck had swerved toward the other side of the street. Tires squealed and threw up gravel and dust. The tail end of the truck came at them —almost in slow motion.

  Louie yanked his arm from Delia’s grip. She still had one hand on him, though, and wrapped her free arm around his waist. Adrenaline rushed through all of her muscles, and Delia dragged him to the edge of the asphalt. She fell.

  He landed on his side.

  The tail end of the truck whooshed past them.

  Delia stared up at the sky for a moment, trying to slow her heart.

  Louie!

  Rolling over, Delia crawled toward him, shaking so hard that her arms barely kept her up.

  “Louie,” Delia yelled. “Louie!”

  He hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen, and his blank eyes stared up at the sky.

  “Louie?” Delia repeated, taking his arm again.

  The old man turned his head toward her voice. “Delia?”

  “What are you doing outside?” She flung her arm toward the middle of the road. “A truck almost hit you!”

  “I wanted it to.”

  Delia sat back on her heels.

  The truck driver ran along the side of the street. He was in his thirties, perhaps, and had a long red beard. He already had his cell phone out and pressed against his ear. When he saw Delia, he lifted his face and hollered, “Is he okay?”

  Delia got to her feet and gazed at the man. His name badge read Mitch; Mitch, who worked at Levi Transport. “He’s okay. I’ll call his daughter. She lives on the other side of these woods.”

  Mitch nodded and bent down next to Louie. “Hey, you’re alright, sir. I’ve called the police.”

  Delia still had a cramp in her side, and she bent to the right while holding her cell phone to her ear.

  Suddenly Becca was there too, crouching next to Louie and Mitch.

  “Thomi,” Delia said when the girl picked up. “Louie’s outside. I saw him walk out of the woods. A truck almost hit him.”

  The girl’s response was so loud that Delia held the phone away from her ear. “Where are you, where are you?”

  “In front of the bakery. Louie doesn’t seem hurt, but he did take a fall when I pulled him out of the way.”

  “I’m coming!” Thomi said, and the line went dead.

  The chilly morning seemed even more frigid, and all the pretty pink of the day faded away. A siren wailed on the highway somewhere. It was far enough away that Delia couldn’t determine from which direction it came. Traffic slowed, and cars inched around the truck that was still in the middle of the road.

  Mitch and Becca had Louie in a sitting position when Delia turned around. He put his hands behind him and started to get to his feet.

  “No,” Becca told him. “Stay still. You might’ve fallen wrong and broken a bone.”

  “I’d know if I broke a bone,” he complained.

  Delia hunkered in front of him. “Thomi is on the way.”

  “I don’t want Thomi. She doesn’t care about me. She hates me.”

  Gazing at Becca, Delia shook her head and then watched the highway for a moment.

  An orange Aztec roared off the exit and didn’t wait for the light to change to green. Horns blared. At first, Thomi stopped the car for traffic, and then she drove up the median. She was out of the car and hurrying forward.

  Delia faced Louie again. “She doesn’t hate you. Thomi loves you. It’s obvious…”

  “She hates me,” Louie screamed. “And I hate Thomi.”

  Delia whipped her head around, hoping the girl hadn’t heard that last part.

  But Thomi stopped mid-stride. She was practically upon them. “Dad?”

  He snapped his mouth shut and went still as a statue.

  The siren got closer and closer.

  Delia got to her feet and stood next to Mitch. They watched the exit without speaking.

  * * *

  It was challenging to work the rest of the day, even when Bogart called the Murder Club to order after they’d closed the bakery.

  “So, what’s wrong?” Becca asked, standing to the left of Delia.

  “Thomi.”

  Bogart had a slice of wheaten bread and spread a ton of butter onto it. “What’s wrong with Thomi? Is she feeling guilty because she didn’t see her dad get out of the house? Was she entangled with pretty Eddie in the bedroom?” He pulled a sugar canister from a shelf and sprinkled a spoonful onto the buttered bread.

  “I think she does feel guilty,” Delia said, watching Bogart take a big bite of —whatever it was he’d just made. “I have an entire case of sweets out front, and you’re eating sugar bread?”

  He finished chewing and said, “I’m hypoglycemic.”

  “That’s what donuts are for.”

  Becca asked, “Thomi heard her dad say he hated her, didn’t she?”

  Delia sank into herself a little, hunching her shoulders. “I know how that feels. It causes psychological messiness that only ice cream fixes.”

  Two lines appeared between Becca’s brows.

  Waving the matter away, Delia said, “So, what do you two think of Sam Loring’s arrest?”

  “I trust Detective Montague,” Becca said. “He has more resources than we do. He has all the evidence lined up before him, such as DNA samples, fingerprints, and witness testimonies.”

  “Sanya said that Sam used poison hemlock to kill Jeanette. I’ve never heard of it. Not only that, how did it get on the blueberries?”

  Bogart pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll look it up.”

  “Sam would’ve needed a key to the bakery, and he’d know which one it was on Jeanette’s keyring,” Delia said. “He’d know the house and car keys.”

  Becca pulled a stool toward the table and sat on it. “But does he have access to hemlock?”

  “Everyone does,” Bogart said,
holding out his phone display, revealing a photo of a white flowering plant. “It grows everywhere.”

  Delia reached for the phone to get a closer look at the plant. “I’ve seen this before, over in the woods. I used to walk to work.”

  “I’ve seen it, too,” Bogart said, taking back his phone. “Very recently, as a matter of fact.” His face was a shade more ruddy, like the sugar was really kicking in. “When I fell the other night in Chu Hua’s little forest, I sat right next to a plant like this one. It made me itchy.” He held out his elbow. “I still have a rash.” He did, too. There was a small patch of red bumps on his forearm.

  “Chu Hua!”

  “Or Daniel,” Bogart reminded, putting his arm down.

  Delia nodded, standing straighter. “How do we prove it?”

  “Tell Montague,” Becca said.

  “He’ll say, I know.”

  Becca shrugged. “We could go get a photo and keep Chu Hua’s house in the lens frame.”

  “I say we wear our t-shirts,” Bogart said, turning and opening a cabinet drawer. Out of it, he pulled an Amazon package.

  “Let’s do it,” Delia said. “But I’m driving this time.”

  Changing into their rainbow tees, plus jackets, Delia drove toward the Barcelona lighthouse at just after four o’clock. An investigation was just the thing to lighten her mood. She turned onto Lake Road before she realized a problem. “How do we snap a photo of the plant without Chu Hua seeing us? There’s a lot of daylight left.”

  “I’ve already thought it through,” Bogart said from the back seat. “Park far enough away from her house, and we’ll approach from the north. That way, I can snap a photo and get her house in the picture, too.”

  Delia nodded. “See, this is why the Murder Club was formed. It takes a village.”

  A minute later, she parked Freddy on the shoulder of the road. Climbing out, they ran across the street as though they were crossing the border with a kilo each: hunching over, tiptoeing, and shushing each other for shushing each other.

  We are the most dramatic people ever.

  They were only a couple of yards into the kudzu, and Bogart said. “I’m already itchy. My rash is really starting to heat up.”