by Mary Maxwell
“Katie?” Zack leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “Are you falling asleep?”
“No, just thinking…” I eased away from him and pressed back into the sofa. “I need to call Liv before it gets too late. I’d like to tell her about Amelia so she’s not totally stunned when it hits the news.”
“Did Dina say if they know what happened?” he asked. “I mean, was it foul play or an accident?”
“Do you think she poisoned herself?”
Zack shrugged. “I read an article once about different household products that can be toxic. There are plenty of case studies that involved people being inadvertently poisoned because bottles are too similar, labels get covered or liquids are nearly identical colors.”
I smiled. “For example?”
“Well, there was a day care center in Arkansas,” Zack began. “The owner was getting a snack ready for a group of kids. When she reached into the cupboard, she grabbed a big refill bottle of windshield wiper fluid instead of Kool-Aid. The label had come off the cleaner, so it looked right to the woman.”
“What happened to the little ones?”
“Luckily, none of them died,” Zack said. “But the day care provider lost her license.”
“Zero tolerance,” I said. “What else did the article mention?”
“The case that seemed most bizarre to me was tiki torch fuel,” Zack said. “There were several instances where people confused it for apple juice. They’re very similar in appearance, especially when they’re in clear plastic containers that aren’t labeled properly. In those cases, one elderly woman died and a young girl’s lungs were permanently damaged.”
“I suppose that sort of thing happens more often than we’d imagine,” I said. “People ignore a couple of simple steps they could take to make their home safe, like storing cleaning supplies and food in separate places, reading labels carefully and using extra caution when kids are in the home.”
“And those are all good tips,” Zack said. “But the woman that died here in town today was an adult.”
“Sure, but there are extenuating factors that can cause something like this to happen,” I said. “Maybe she’d been drinking, so she wasn’t paying close attention. Or she could’ve been in a hurry getting ready for choir practice. Maybe she was having a quick cup of tea and accidentally grabbed the box of poison thinking it was the sugar. Some toxic substances can be fatal within minutes.”
“And some take days or weeks,” Zack said. “I’ll be interested to hear how this goes, babe. Are you going to pitch in and help the CCPD?”
I gave him a look. “Dina didn’t ask me to consult,” I said. “But you know how it goes. Once I hear about something like this, my mind just clicks into action.”
He smiled. “Whatever you do be careful, okay?”
“Always.”
“And don’t forget what they say about that type of thing?”
“No, mister,” I said. “What do they say?”
“Follow your heart,” he replied, “but take your brain with you.”
CHAPTER 4
Harper slid up beside me the following morning as I measured dry ingredients for two double batches of cranberry walnut scones. It was nearly ten, so the breakfast crowd had thinned to a few late arrivals. I’d helped Julia on the front line during the rush, but she’d asked if I could start on the scones that Riley Concord wanted to pickup early that afternoon.
“You ready for this?” Harper asked.
I put down the package of baking powder. “I was born ready, sister. What do you know?”
She inched closer. “Ken Ballard’s in the dining room,” she whispered. “He wanted to know if you had time to talk about Amelia.”
“Did he say what he wanted to discuss?”
Harper sighed. “Well, he mumbled a few things, but I don’t want to misquote the man.”
“Can you give me a hint?”
“Sure,” she replied. “Apparently, Amelia’s been threatening to go to the police and file a restraining order against Ken. She’d told a few people that he’s been stalking her.”
Julia whirled around. “I just heard that last night!” she said. “Someone in my quilting group knows Lori Franklin, and she said that Amelia was thrilled to house-sit last week because then Ken wouldn’t know where she was.”
“Hold it a sec!” Harper exclaimed. “You joined a quilting group?”
Julia answered with an irritated frown.
“But didn’t you tell us that you’d never try and sew anything again after the Halloween costumes for the kids last year?”
“Nothing was chiseled in granite,” Julia said. “I find it relaxing.”
“Quilting?” Harper’s face was twisted in dismay. “All of those pieces of fabric and the needles and the cantankerous women with their—”
“Stop that!” Julia called. “The women are lovely. Did you know that the Crescent Creek Quilters Guild donated almost fifty quilts and a hundred dream bags to different groups last year?”
“What’s a dream bag?” asked Harper.
“It’s like a tote,” Julia said. “I’m a newbie, so I’m still learning the ropes.”
“Aren’t we all?” I teased. “And I hate to put the quilting conversation on the back burner, but why didn’t you tell me about Amelia’s claims against Ken?”
“Don’t be grouchy,” Julia said with a laugh. “I was going to tell you, but we’ve been slammed since the door opened at seven.”
“I’m not grouchy,” I told her. “I just hate being left out of the loop.”
“Well, you can get all the way inside the loop now,” Harper said. “Ken’s waiting to ask you a few questions. He promised that it wouldn’t take more than five minutes or so.”
Julia made a face. “That man? Five minutes? He goes off on more tangents than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“Well, he’s probably not going to leave until he gets at least a quick chat with you,” Harper said. “The poor guy’s eyes are red as rubies. It looks like he’s been crying nonstop since he heard the news.”
“In that case,” I said, “how can I say no?”
As I followed Harper toward the dining room, questions began spinning in my mind. What did Ken have to say? How was he handling the news about his ex-girlfriend? Was it possible that he had information that might help identify and apprehend Amelia’s killer?
“Good luck,” Harper said quietly as I looked for Ken in the dining room. “If you need backup, just whistle!”
CHAPTER 5
“There’s no way around it,” Ken announced a few minutes later. “I’m pretty much to blame for all of this. I wanted to tell you in case you help the police investigate Amelia’s death. I know that you’ve worked with them on some tricky cases in the past.”
I was behind the desk in the Sky High office while he paced from one side of the room to the other and back again. Since the windowless space was small and narrow, Ken was doing a lot of teeny, tiny laps.
“Why are you to blame?” I asked.
He paused in the middle of the room. “If I was still dating Amelia and she was still working at my company,” he said, “maybe she’d still be alive. And if we hadn’t argued the last time we spoke, maybe things would’ve been different.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” I said. “What if she died from natural causes?”
He scowled. “I know that you’re trying to be kind, Katie, but since when is strychnine a health condition?”
Since the investigation by the Crescent Creek Police Department was less than twenty-four hours old, it was surprising that Ken was aware of the cause of death. I knew that Dina always closely guarded the details and specifics of every case that she worked. Before Ken told me more about his theory, I asked how he learned that Amelia had died from strychnine poisoning.
“Word on the street,” he answered. “People were talking at the coffee place when I was there this morning.”
I nodded. “Java & Juice?”
/> “No, the one on Rio Blanco and First. That’s closer to my house, so I hit it nearly every morning on the way to work.”
“Convenient,” I said. “How is everything at work these days? It took you a while to replace Amelia didn’t it?”
I instantly regretted the choice of words when Ken flinched at the question.
“I mean, she was the bookkeeper for your company before she took the job with the delivery service.”
He nodded. “Don’t worry, Katie. I can handle it. But you’re wrong; I never tried to replace Amelia. I was still hoping that she’d change her mind and come back to the firm once the dust settled.”
“But it never did?” I asked.
“I guess not. Between what just happened and the way she was trashing my reputation around town, it’ll be a good long while before things calm down.”
There was a change in the quality of his voice; it was now somewhat darker and deeper, as if a simmering anger beneath the surface was threatening to come forward. Tiny pinpoints of sweat had also appeared on his brow, glinting faintly in the overhead light whenever he turned his head.
“Let me ask you about this morning,” I said. “What exactly did you hear at the coffee shop?”
He thought about the question. Then he issued a long, slow sigh. And then he walked over and sat in one of the guest chairs in front of the desk.
“It was Nadine Bellingham,” he said. “She was telling the woman behind the counter that Amelia had died from a massive dose of strychnine. Nadine’s sister works at the Med Center, so maybe she heard something from one of the EMTs or a cop that handled the 911 call.”
“Information can get around in several ways,” I said. “Did Nadine know anything else about the situation?”
“I don’t really remember what she talked about after that,” he went on. “My whole body just froze up. Someone had to poke me in the chest to get me to snap out of it. I was literally just standing there at the counter with my jaw on the floor.”
“Well, it’s pretty disturbing news,” I said.
He slumped forward in the chair. “It’s the worst kind of news, Katie. You get up one morning, stop at your usual coffee house to get some caffeine and the people inside are talking about the love of your life being poisoned by her brother.”
The casual add-on slipped out with a nonchalance that seemed either entirely calculated or genuinely innocent. It was hard to tell which applied to Ken’s demeanor because he seemed to vacillate about most of what he was telling me; hesitant and uncertain with one breath, and then solid and confident with the next.
“Why do you think her brother was involved?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Just a hunch. The guy’s bad news from the cellar to the penthouse.”
“I’ll take your word on it,” I said. “I would actually be more interested to hear what you can tell me about the restraining order and alleged stalking.”
His shoulders lifted as a fragile smile brightened his face. “Amelia was bluffing,” he said. “She was upset with me for a few little fibs that I’d told. But they weren’t that big of a deal. I really hate hurting anyone’s feelings, so when we were out to dinner one night and ran into my ex, I told Amelia that the woman was my sister’s friend from college. When she somehow learned the truth later, Amelia went into full meltdown mode. No matter what I said or did, she was different after that incident.”
“Did you share all of this with Detective Kincaid?” I asked.
Ken looked up and blinked. “About Amelia thinking that I’m a jerk?”
“No, not that. I’m talking about the changes in her personality that you observed. If she’s been acting differently in recent weeks, maybe there was something else going on.”
“And you think it might be related to her death?” he asked.
“I’m not saying that,” I told him. “But there’s always the possibility that additional factors contributed to the change in her mood, things that you may not know about. In turn, those additional factors could possibly be connected to the person or persons that wanted to do her harm.”
“You mean, the people that wanted to see her dead, right?”
I smiled. “I think Detective Kincaid would be interested in hearing what you have to say.”
He attempted another smile, but it fizzled. “I’ll take your advice, Katie. I’ll call her tomorrow afternoon when I get finished with our quarterly reviews. We’re only about half way, and I do not see the light at the end of the tunnel yet.
“Soon as you can,” I said. “I’ll be talking to her later today. Do you mind if I share at least a little of what we discussed here?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” Ken said with a shrug. “It’s all going to come out at some point. I was a hundred miles away from Crescent Creek when Amelia died, so there’s no way that I was involved. And I’ll take whatever kind of tests they want to throw at me: lie detector, truth serum, Rorschach, all of it. The bottom line here is, I loved Amelia with all my heart, even when she told me to take a hike and claimed to be dating a new guy from Briarfield.”
“Can you repeat that?”
“What?” Ken said. “You hadn’t heard about the new man in Amelia’s life?”
I shook my head. “Not one word. What’s his name?”
“Got me,” Ken said. “Amelia refused to tell me.”
“That’s okay,” I replied. “I’ll check into that, okay? Maybe see if we can identify the man and share his name with the CCPD.”
CHAPTER 6
Rebecca Carney smiled when I walked into Tips & Toes. It was after six, so the nail salon that she and her sister owned in downtown Crescent Creek was fairly quiet. Two customers sat with the nail technicians along one wall of the shop that usually buzzed with conversation, laughter and plenty of local chitchat.
Rebecca and Amelia Felton had been best friends since grade school, so I’d called earlier to ask if I could stop by before she left for the day. I hoped that she might be able to identify the mystery man that Ken Ballard had mentioned as well as provide a snapshot of Amelia’s mood in recent days.
“Will wonders never cease?” she called. “A loyal Glam Room customer has decided to break ranks and come for some real nail beauty!”
I cringed slightly. “Don’t shoot me, Becca. I’m just coming in to talk with you about Amelia.”
The gleaming smile on her face dimmed slightly. “Oh, so you…” She took a breath and lifted her chin. “Wasn’t that just the most devastating news? I couldn’t believe it when somebody told me about what happened to the poor girl.”
“It’s horrible,” I said. “The police are investigating, but I wanted to do a little checking around town to see if I could uncover additional information about Amelia.”
“Who have you talked to so far?” she asked.
“Ken Ballard came to see me this morning,” I told her.
Rebecca’s upper lip curled. “That rat bastard? Why would you talk to him?”
“It’s complicated,” I replied.
She glowered at me. “No, it isn’t complicated! Ken Ballard is a selfish, chauvinist jerk. When he and Amelia first started going out, he treated her the way any woman wants to be treated. He was polite. He was respectful. And he was kind. But when she put on a few pounds, his eye started to wander like a hog in a barnyard.”
“Did he cheat on her?” I asked.
“Are you joking?” Her mouth arched again before twisting into a grin that resembled a coiled spring: tight, dangerous and capable of delivering a vicious retort. “I’m surprised that you never heard about Ken and the Blue Widow.”
I laughed. “The Blue Widow?” I said. “What’s with the color change? I thought people always referred to women who kill their husbands as the Black Widow.”
“Not if they use that temporary chalk stuff to put a blue streak in their hair,” she replied. “Like they’re some kind of hot rock chick strutting down Sunset Boulevard.”
“Who are we talking about?” I as
ked.
“Doris Linklater,” she whispered.
“Is she really wearing a blue streak in her hair?” I asked.
Rebecca touched one side of her head. “Right about here most days,” she said, patting the spot a few times. “Although I’ve also seen it inexplicably jump to the other side more than once. Almost like she does it on purpose to see if anyone noticed.”
“Well, it worked,” I said. “You’re telling me about it now, aren’t you?”
“Probably because I know that she came between Amelia and Ken,” said Rebecca. “And that was just a crying shame. They made such a cute couple.”
“And you’re certain that Doris had something to do with the relationship ending?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what happened,” she said. “You know how it goes; you hear people talking around town. Some of it you have to take with a grain of salt, but there are almost always nuggets of truth tucked in between the piles of pure malarkey.”
I nodded. “Human nature, right? Some people exaggerate or stretch the truth even when they’re talking about frivolous things.”
“Like how much money their girlfriend has in the bank,” Rebecca said with a wicked sneer.
“Is that something Ken was concerned about?” I asked. “I mean, pretty much everyone knows that Doris is well-heeled.”
Rebecca snorted. “Well-heeled? That woman has more shoes than brain cells.”
I offered a small nod. “Did Amelia tell you that Ken left her because Doris is so wealthy?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I mean, I wouldn’t want to swear to it in a courtroom, but I’m pretty sure that’s what she was getting at when we had dinner a couple of weeks ago. She’s been sort of preoccupied by Ken ever since they stopped seeing one another.”
“How so?”
She bit her lower lip. “Well, it’s just the way that Amelia has always been, you know? When things didn’t go her way, she’d spend hour after hour and day after day trying to figure out why. For example, there was the time in sixth grade. Eileen Tidewell got the part of Peter Pan in the school play even after Amelia had watched the movie about a thousand times. She knew every line by heart. She rehearsed the choreography for weeks. And she even had her mom sew a green costume that she could wear to the audition. But when they cast Eileen in the role, Amelia wouldn’t stop going on about it. I mean, it was beyond annoying. We were in study hall this one day and—”