by Mary Angela
“That’s a really good idea.” I bent down and turned over the plastic pot. The price tag had been removed. “Nothing.”
Mrs. Gunderson leaned over my shoulder. “Those are pansies.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“There’s only one place in town that would have them out so early,” said Mrs. Gunderson. “Petal’s Place.”
“Petal’s Place,” I repeated. Of course. It was too early for pansies and many other flowers. Lots of Midwesterners didn’t put out flowers until Mother’s Day, the gold standard for planting season. But Petal’s was the flower shop downtown and the only place that offered blooms year-round. I could easily check there. Someone might remember who bought the pansies. “Thank you, Mrs. Gunderson. You’ve been a great help.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. Darling showed his gratitude by peeing on my tree.
After a quick breakfast and shower, I called Lenny back. Since our earlier call, he’d driven Felix to the hospital to see Andy, and he was on his way to my house. Maybe it was fate. Andy and Felix wouldn’t be able to leave town after all. If they were connected to Tanner’s murder, I had more time to find out. One thing was certain: Andy had nothing to do with the pansies. He had an airtight alibi.
Dickinson made a good show of running up to Lenny when I opened the door, as if she had been the one to suffer insult and injury. Meowing, she told her story of her night all alone in the house. If only she could tell me who’d left the pansies at my door. But this wasn’t Agatha Christie’s Dumb Witness. My pet would be the last animal in the world to help me out.
“So, while you were away, your stalker came to play,” said Lenny, scratching Dickinson’s ears.
“It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t here.” I seized the opportunity to bolster my position in our earlier disagreement. “Who knows what would have happened if I hadn’t taken that walk.”
Lenny stopped petting Dickinson and stood. He took a step closer. All six feet of him was in my space when he touched my chin. “I don’t want to fight.”
I didn’t want to fight either, not with him sending shivers down my spine.
He brushed my lips with his. “Okay?”
I nodded.
“Good.”
I wondered what I had just agreed to. Taking a step back, I refocused on my afternoon plans. “I’d like to go to the hospital to see Andy. I can’t believe he really had food poisoning. But first, I want to stop by Petal’s Place downtown. Mrs. Gunderson says it’s the only store in town with pansies.”
“It’s a small store,” he said. “The cashier might remember who bought them.”
“Exactly,” I said, slipping on my tennis shoes. “Let’s go.”
Lenny’s old Ford Taurus sputtered to a start, and soon we were driving toward Main Street. I saw the problem with my plan the minute we approached the stoplight. Like most stores, Petal’s Place wasn’t open on Sundays. My questions would have to wait until tomorrow.
“Shoot,” I said. “It’s not open.”
“So, where to now?” said Lenny.
“The hospital,” I said.
Lenny grumbled. “I just came from there. It’s going to look really weird when I show up again.”
“I’ll say I wanted to see Andy.”
He looked skeptical. “Because you guys are such good friends.”
“We drove him home—and he called you for a ride.” I shrugged. “I think that constitutes friendship.”
“I don’t understand why you want to go,” said Lenny. “He’s just going to rub our faces in our poor judgment. He told us he was sick last night. We should have believed him.”
“I still don’t know if I believe him,” I said. “Nobody else got sick, and it was a buffet.”
Lenny turned toward the hospital. “So … what are you saying?”
“I’m saying it might not be food poisoning.”
“Why don’t we let the doctors be the judge of that.” Lenny put the car in park.
“That’s what I’m doing,” I said.
“Helping the doctors judge if Andy has food poisoning?” said Lenny. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate your input.”
I opened my car door. “I want to make sure they don’t jump to a conclusion, that’s all. I need to make them aware of the connection between Tanner and Andy.”
“We’re not sure a connection exists.”
“We’re not sure a connection doesn’t exist, either,” I said, arranging my scarf. “Andy’s illness could be attempted murder.”
Lenny raised one dark eyebrow, a skill I coveted. “I don’t know, Em. Think about all the trouble Tanner’s murderer went to. The garden, the scene, the liquid in the ear. How could he botch this murder so badly?”
“I don’t have all the answers,” I whispered as we entered the hospital. “That’s why I’m here.” The facility was cold, quiet, and sterile. It smelled like latex and disinfectant. It made me sick with its pungency.
After learning Andy’s room number from a volunteer, we took the elevator to the second floor. I hoped he felt better. The last thing I wanted was to walk in on him while he was throwing up. Felix being there was a good sign, though. He would have called Lenny for a ride if Andy was too ill for visitors.
Andy’s door was half closed, and Lenny knocked on it softly. “It’s Lenny and Em. Can we come in?”
“Sure.” The voice was Felix’s.
As we entered the dimly lit space, I was surprised by the gravity of the situation. Andy was hooked up to an IV as well as a machine that monitored his vitals. His cheeks were pale, and the skin around his eyes ashen. Had someone told me he was the same scholar from the Shakespeare conference, I wouldn’t have believed them. He didn’t respond when we said hello. His lips turned up as if he were attempting a smile, but then he reached for his stomach. The action seemed to physically hurt.
“It looks like he’s taken a turn for the worse,” Lenny whispered in my ear.
“How’s he doing?” I said to Felix.
“Not as well as we’d hoped,” said Felix. “I thought we might be able to make our flight today, but it will need to be rescheduled. Which isn’t a problem,” Felix added when Andy’s eyebrows lifted.
“Did the doctor say how long it’d be?” asked Lenny.
“She’s not sure,” said Felix. “If he doesn’t show signs of improvement soon, they’re going to test for bacteria. If it’s positive, the health department will need to be notified of a possible outbreak.”
“I’m so sorry, Andy,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Call the authorities,” said Andy between gasps. “Tell them to shut down that cesspool of a restaurant.”
I didn’t enjoy hearing him call one of the nicest restaurants in town a cesspool, but I bit my tongue. The guy was in pain. He was allowed a few choice words about Bluff View. “Do you have any idea what food caused it? Did you start getting ill right away?”
“Not right away.” He closed his eyes. “Not until after dinner. It could have been anything. Maybe the salad.”
Several cases of contaminated Romaine lettuce had been reported in the last year, but I’d had the salad, too, and I felt fine. We hadn’t been seated at the same table. Perhaps different batches of lettuce had been served.
His eyes flew open, and he grabbed for his emesis bag. That was our cue to leave. We all rushed out of the room, almost colliding with the nurse outside Andy’s door. He was a brick wall, and just as sturdy as one. My bumping into him didn’t faze him.
“Stomach again?” The nurse wore green scrubs, a badge, and carried a small phone.
I nodded.
“Hey, Zeb,” said Lenny. “How are you?”
“Professor Jenkins,” said Zeb, holding out his hand. “Good to see you. I didn’t realize Andy was an English professor.”
“Not yet,” said Lenny. “He’ll graduate in May from Denver, though. Felix, here, is his advisor.” Felix nodded in acknowledgment before scooting off to get a d
rink from the water fountain.
“No wonder those guys weren’t familiar,” said Zeb, after Felix left. “I didn’t recognize them.”
“How is Andy?” I asked. “He seems really sick.”
“Food poisoning can be pretty dangerous,” said Zeb. “Most people don’t realize, but symptoms can persist for several days. The Zofran should have helped with the nausea. We might need to increase his dosage.”
“We all ate the same buffet last night,” I said. “Does that mean we can all expect to get sick?”
“Not necessarily,” said Zeb. “It might have been something he ate earlier in the day. Many times it takes hours for food poisoning to catch up with you, though certain strains, like staphylococcus aureus, can wreak havoc in as little as thirty minutes.”
He made a good point. Andy could have eaten something for lunch that affected him at dinner.
“But you think it is food poisoning?” asked Lenny.
“For now,” said Zeb. “If he doesn’t get better, the doctor might need to look into other possibilities, including an antibiotic for a bacterial infection.” Zeb’s phone began to ring.
“Is it okay if we check back later?” Lenny asked.
Zeb nodded. “Sure thing. I gotta take this.”
Felix returned from the water fountain, and we updated him with the information Zeb had given us.
“Am I correct in assuming it might be several days before we can leave?” Felix asked, looking toward Andy’s room. His gray hair was parted perfectly to one side.
“It’s possible,” I said. “If I were you, I’d wait to rebook my flight. I’m sure he’ll improve by tomorrow.”
Felix scratched his neck. “This trip has been one bloody disaster after another. First, the young actor, now Andy. They say big cities aren’t safe, but I wonder.”
“Your lecture was fantastic, if that makes you feel any better about the trip,” I said.
“And Giles said your book is selling really well in the bookstore,” added Lenny.
I wasn’t the only one doing damage control. Lenny didn’t want our big-name scholar leaving Copper Bluff disgruntled either.
“Thank you,” said Felix. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to sit with Andy. He’s been like a son to me these past few years. I don’t want him going through this ordeal alone.”
“Please let us know if we can help,” I said. “We can be here night or day.”
“Night or day?” Lenny said after Felix left. “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”
“You know what they say: drastic times, drastic measures.”
Lenny took out his keys. “I should have known that was coming.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Monday arrived like a bouquet of flowers—a gaudy one splashed over my mock-up book cover. When I received the email from Owen Parrish at my office, I thought maybe he’d reconsidered his harsh words about my final chapters. From the looks of the cover, though, he was punishing me for my resistance. It looked like an outdated romance, cluttered with pink and purple flowers. The font was ornate. Whoever had created the cover obviously hadn’t read the book or taken my suggestions into consideration. The subject was women’s writing, but that didn’t mean the scheme needed to include pink and purple tones or a cutesy font. I hated it when women’s scholarship wasn’t taken seriously.
I shut my laptop and pushed back my office chair. “Ridiculous!”
“Everything all right over there, Emmeline?” said Giles from beyond our adjoining door.
“No, it’s not,” I said, gathering my books. I had to teach class in fifteen minutes. Closing the door behind me, I marched into his office. “My editor just sent me a mock-up of my new book cover, and it’s hideous.”
Giles crossed a foot over one knee. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It has flowers all over it.”
“You like flowers,” said Giles.
“Yeah, in my yard—not on the cover of a scholarly book!” I readjusted my backpack.
“You’ll just have to tell him it’s unsatisfactory,” said Giles. “They’ll need to come up with something else.”
“He doesn’t listen to me.” I tried not to let my exasperation show, but I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. “He wants me to delete a bunch of stuff and revise the ending. He’s like a hundred years old.”
“That seems old to still be working.” A smile curved Giles’s lips.
I chuckled at his dry sense of humor. “You know what I mean. He’s been working there forever, but this is a different kind of book from what they normally publish, which is fiction. I don’t know if he’s even read it.”
“Just be patient,” said Giles. “Contact him after you’ve had a chance to cool down.”
“I’m on my way to my 101 class right now,” I said. “I’m sure it will be downright icy in there when I hand back papers.”
“Oh, and Emmeline?” said Giles as I turned to leave. “I’ll be out this afternoon if anyone asks. I promised Felix I would take him to the hospital to see Andy.”
“Andy’s still sick?” I couldn’t believe he was so bad he needed visitors. He’d been in the hospital since early Sunday morning. Why wasn’t he recovering?
Giles let out a sigh. “I’m afraid so. Felix says he’s worse than yesterday.”
“That’s not right,” I said. “If it’s food poisoning, he should be feeling better.”
“Tell me about it,” muttered Giles, sounding very unlike himself. “I have a feeling this will be their last trip to Copper Bluff.”
I wasn’t heartbroken over the pair not coming back. I was worried about Andy’s illness, though. It would be bad news for Bluff View Restaurant and even the university if Andy didn’t get better soon. His nurse, Zeb, said they might test his blood for bacteria. Maybe they’d start an antibiotic today if he didn’t improve.
With class on the third floor of Stanton Hall, I had to get going. I told Giles to keep me posted and hurried across the quad. As I walked up the stairs of Stanton, my steps became stomps. Owen Parrish and his book cover were heavy on my mind. I could think of a hundred things to say to him in the moment, but chances were, when I talked to him, my words would dissolve into a series of angry headshakes. Despite its scholarly tone, the book had a lot of my heart in it. That’s what stung. It was like I was defending a family member, since the idea was one I had grown up with in my college years. I would fight for it as fiercely as I would a close relation.
I paused on the landing of the stairwell, smiling. It was funny how often Lenny’s words came to mind, how often they cheered me up. Frequently, he teased me about being an only child, replacing siblings with books. Maybe I had done just that with my scholarly work.
I kept walking, reminding myself of our upcoming trip to Petal’s Place. Every day I looked forward to seeing Lenny, to talking and planning and dreaming. We’d been dating only four months, but it was hard to imagine life without him. It was as if he’d always been a part of my life. I wondered if he felt the same way.
I shook off the possibility. Lenny went through girlfriends like I went through coffee filters, and for me, dating included a revolving door. But these last three years had built a foundation, a friendship that was unbreakable. I hoped our bond was too.
My students were waiting for me when I stepped into the classroom. I heaved my backpack onto the table as a few stragglers found their desks. Returning papers, I heard some groans. Many professors waited to give back papers until the end of the class to avoid the grumbling. For the next fifty minutes, I would face an uphill battle taking their minds off their grades and getting them to focus on their final papers. But I managed it with the help of a few controversial topic ideas. In groups, they debated those instead of my grading scale, and as I walked to my next class across the hall, my backpack was lighter and so was my mood.
Until I overheard a discussion near the stairwell. Mia and her roommate Hailey were talking to a male student. The
volume was increasing, and I moved toward the group to make sure nothing was amiss. That’s when I realized the man was Jacob, the student playing Hamlet now. Jacob saw me and fled down the stairs. Hailey crossed her muscular arms, which were emphasized by a team volleyball tank top. Mia, dressed in a long vest and leggings, shouted after him, “Goodbye!”
“You’ve been through one heartache,” said Hailey. “Why make it two?”
Mia turned her attention to Hailey. “How can you say that? Tanner’s not even buried yet. I have no plans to date anyone.”
“It doesn’t make it less true,” said Hailey. “If you still can’t see how they’re alike, maybe you need counseling.”
Mia chided her, “With a school counselor? I saw the brochure you left for me on the table. I’m not an idiot.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t leave you anything.” Hailey shifted her weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.
I decided to step in. I didn’t have much time before my next class. “Is everything okay? Was that student bothering you?”
Mia brushed back the tendrils of blonde hair that had come undone from her high bun. “It’s fine. He’s from the theater.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Mia smiled. “I’m sure.”
I wasn’t as sure, so I tried to keep the conversation going. “I thought I recognized him from the play. Jacob, right? Did you guys enjoy Dr. Lewis’s speech?”
“I did,” said Mia. “He kind of reminded me why I got into art in the first place. Theater was his refuge. Art is mine.”
“I thought the talk was too long,” said Hailey. She was the most pragmatic of the group, interested more in backstage workings than what was said on stage. “At least he had a cool accent, I guess.”
“Right?” said Mia. “I love the way he talks.”
A student came up on my left. He was in my next class and seemed to need to talk to me. “I have to get to class, but let me know if I can help in any way at all. Asking for help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Losing a friend or loved one is hard. Remember that.”
“Thank you, Professor Prather,” said Hailey. “We appreciate it.”