Dead by Dinner Time

by Jeff Shelby

  “What the...?” he said as I nudged him into Ruth’s apartment.

  He surveyed the plant-filled living room with wide eyes. “How many plants does she have in here?” he asked.

  “Uh, a lot.”

  He approached a credenza filled with lush greenery and purple and pink flowers. “So many,” he marveled. “She has quite the green thumb.”

  It appeared as though he’d forgotten the reason why we were standing in Ruth’s apartment.

  “The leaves.” I touched his arm to get his attention. “Do you see the plant in here? The monkhood thing?”

  Aidan immediately sobered. He straightened and then began a slow walk of the living room, his eyes drifting slowly over every plant.

  He pointed. “There,” he said, his finger aimed at an innocuous-looking flowering plant sitting on top of a low bookshelf. Two succulents flanked either side of it, both with delicate pink petals.

  Aidan crossed the room and lifted the planter it was in, and I had a momentary flash of a Catholic church I’d gone to once, a funeral, and the priest had lifted the goblet of wine with complete and total reverence. The way Aidan was holding the planter was oddly similar.

  “This is it,” he announced.

  I was by his side in a flash. “You’re sure?” I examined the leaves but realized within half a second that I had no idea if they were a match or not.

  “Yes,” he said firmly. “This is a monkhood plant.”

  Denise clapped her hands. “Well, that seals it. I don’t know what else you found out about Ruth but if she has this thing growing in her room, then she’s the one who did it.”

  Aidan was still holding the plant, but now he was frowning. “Are you telling me that Ruth purposefully planted monkhood leaves in Arthur Grigg’s food? To kill him?”

  “It sort of looks that way,” I admitted.

  He blew out a breath. “Why?” he finally asked.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “You said that in the hallway.” He gave me a pointed look before glancing at the watch strapped to his wrist. “Guess what? I have time.”

  “Well, I don’t,” Denise barked. “I gotta get back to the dining room and serve them residents their lunch.” She yanked her phone out of her pocket. “I’m gonna call the police so they can start getting this mess sorted out.”

  “Denise, wait.”

  She glared at me. “I am done waiting. You said you needed more info and you found it. You are literally holding the murder weapon in your hands. It’s time to let the police sort out the details.”

  “I will,” I said. “Just...we need to slow down. I want to make sure.”

  Denise looked like she was ready to strangle me. “What on earth do you need to know? What more do you need to find?”

  A shadow crossed the room and a voice asked, “What are you doing in Ruth’s apartment?”

  TWENTY SIX

  I’d never seen Denise move so fast when she saw Earl Lipinski standing in Ruth’s doorway.

  “Earl,” I said, hoping the surprise in my voice sounded pleasant as opposed to alarmed. “What are you doing here?”

  His eyes raked over all three of us. “I asked first.”

  Denise was standing next to Aidan, her back toward us, blocking him from view. When she spun back around, she was holding his ID lanyard, a triumphant smile on her face. “We found it!” she announced.

  Earl furrowed his bushy brows. “Found what?”

  “His ID,” Denise said, waving the lanyard in the air. “He dropped off some meds for Ruth earlier this morning. Didn’t you, Aidan?” She nudged him with her elbow.

  He blinked. “Uh. Yeah.”

  “Realized he lost his ID and thought it might have been here in Ruth’s apartment. He knew she would be headed down to the dining room for lunch and he didn’t want to disturb her meal.”

  Earl’s gaze bounced from me to Denise. “Why are you two here, then?”

  I spoke up. “I noticed Ruth’s door was open. I thought she might have forgotten to close it. Or maybe that it didn’t latch when she left. You know what the heat and humidity can do to the doors sometimes.”

  “And you?” Earl asked Denise.

  Her eyes widened. “Uh, I was helping him.” She pressed herself closer to Aidan. “He’s...he’s a little near-sighted.”

  “Where are your glasses?” Earl asked Aidan.

  “He wears contacts,” Denise said quickly. “And one tore. Right?”

  Aidan looked like a deer caught in the headlights but he somehow managed to give a faint nod.

  I smiled brightly at Earl. “What are you doing here? Looking for Ruth?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Just here to water her plants.”

  This was unexpected. “You take care of her plants for her?”

  Earl chuckled as he walked into the apartment. “Hardly. I had a large vegetable garden at my old house. Lots of flowers, too. I miss growing things and when I found out how many plants Ruth had, she invited me up to see them. She told me I could come by and take care of them, help her water and such, if I wanted to.”

  “Why don’t you have your own plants if you like them so much?” I asked.

  “Cat,” he said bluntly. “I have a cat that thinks every indoor plant is her own personal pasture.” He brightened. “But Ruth planted some grass for me.” He pointed to one of the windows in the living room, and I noticed a few small plant pots with tender green shoots sticking out of them.

  “That’s grass?” I asked.

  He nodded. “She doesn’t want me to take them until they fill out a little. Otherwise Molly will just tear the roots right out.”

  It was probably safe to assume Molly was the name of his cat.

  “I see,” I said. I glanced around the room. Denise was sweating bullets and Aidan looked a little sick to his stomach. “Well, we’ve found the ID so I guess we should get going. Denise, they probably need you in the dining room.”

  Earl picked up a small plastic watering can tucked under one of the end tables. He walked it into the kitchen. “I’ll let myself out,” he told us.

  He turned the faucet on, his back toward us.

  There was nothing left to do but leave Ruth’s apartment.

  As soon as we were in the hallway, the apartment door pulled closed, Denise whirled on me.

  “I am calling. Now.”

  Aidan was standing next to her, his eyes wide as he gazed down the hallway. “Now might not be the best time,” he murmured.

  “And why is that?” she snapped.

  Wordlessly, he pointed.

  We looked toward the staircase. Something that looked an awful lot like smoke was billowing slowly toward the ceiling.

  “What in the world—?” Denise said, but she was cut off.

  Because every smoke alarm in the building had suddenly chimed to life.

  TWENTY SEVEN

  I’d always wondered what I would do in a life or death situation.

  Would I panic? Be paralyzed by fear? Dissolve into hysteria?

  With sirens wailing and plumes of smoke rising to the second floor, I did none of those things.

  Instead, I ran straight to the source. The dining room.

  Of course, I don’t know if that was exactly heroic. Foolish was probably a better word to describe my actions. But Denise and Aidan followed suit, with Denise surging ahead, screaming, “The residents! We have to save the residents!”

  I lifted the hem of my shirt to cover my mouth and nose as we descended the stairs. The smoke wasn’t burning my eyes, which was a good thing, but it was still hazy enough that it made it difficult to see.

  Patty, one of the other dining room staff, was already guiding residents toward the front entrance. She had one on either side of her, her arms looped through theirs.

  I skidded to a stop in front of her just long enough to ask, “What happened?”

  “Kitchen fire.”

  I nodded and then hurried into the dining room, scanning the ta
bles to see if anyone was still seated inside. The smoke was already beginning to dissipate, and I wondered if that meant the fire had been extinguished or if the smoke had simply shifted direction.

  “I think everyone’s out,” Aidan told me.

  He was right. All of the tables were deserted. Through the haze, I found the clock on the wall. It was just shy of noon, which was when lunch was typically served. That meant most of the tables would have been full, or at least filling up.

  “Where is everyone, then?” I asked.

  Denise pointed. “Looks like they’re all outside already.”

  The front door was just visible from where we were standing, and I could see a cluster of residents standing in a semi-circle around the entrance to the building. Some of them were standing behind their fellow residents in wheelchairs, their own hands firmly wrapped around the handles. My heart swelled. These residents had assisted their friends, helped them get outside.

  Anne appeared in front of us, almost like a deadly apparition. “What in the world is going on?” she demanded.

  I stared at her. What did she think had just happened?

  “Looks like there was some type of fire,” Aidan offered.

  “Yes, I can see that.” Her frown was deep. “Where are the residents?”

  Denise pointed again. “Out there.”

  Anne swiveled in that direction. The alarms in the building had already gone silent but a faint siren sound was growing closer.

  Fire trucks, responding to the call.

  Anne glanced into the empty dining room but made no move to enter. “Anyone know where it started?”

  Aidan arched an eyebrow. “I assume the kitchen?”

  Her eyes narrowed behind the bright orange glasses she was wearing. They matched her red and orange-patterned blouse, which seemed like a weirdly apropos outfit for what had just transpired in the building.

  Denise folded her arms. “Didn’t you hear the alarms going off?” she asked Anne.

  “Of course I heard them,” Anne snapped.

  “And you’re just now coming to see what happened?” Denise couldn’t hide her incredulity. “Your office is literally across the hall.”

  Denise pulled herself up, clearing her throat as she did so. “I...I was in the ladies room.” Her face was turning a startling shade of red. “I came out as fast as I could.”

  I was not Anne’s biggest fan, but even I felt a little bad for her. Denise, however, apparently did not feel the same way.

  She gave Anne a withering look. “Well, it appears all the residents made it out just fine.” I could hear what she’d left unsaid. Without your help.

  Anne took a deep breath. “I’m going to see how everyone is doing.”

  “Good idea,” Denise muttered.

  Anne walked toward the entrance.

  And I heard yelling from the kitchen.

  “I don’t know how this happened!” someone wailed.

  Not someone.

  Lola.

  I made my way toward the kitchen. The smoke was almost all gone, and I could see Lola standing in front of the industrial-sized oven, a fire extinguisher still held limply in her hand. Soot coated the top of the cooktop, but otherwise the damage seemed remarkably minimal, especially considering the amount of smoke that had filled the dining room and drifted up toward the second floor.

  Denise pushed her way past me. “What happened in here?”

  Lola was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down. She lifted the fire extinguisher, sort of pointing it at the range. “Dishtowel caught fire.”

  A dishtowel had created all of that smoke?

  Tears filled Lola’s eyes. “It was an accident.”

  “I’m sure it was.” Denise was immediately sympathetic. She rushed to her side and put an arm around the distraught woman. Lola stiffened but didn’t pull away. “The fire truck just got here.”

  “What?” Lola looked panicked. “Why? I put it out! It’s fine!”

  Aidan and I exchanged glances. Why was she freaking out?

  “I’m sure it’s standard procedure,” Denise said, frowning slightly.

  Lola dropped the fire extinguisher on the counter. It landed with a loud clank.

  “Are you alright?” Denise asked.

  Lola started to nod but it soon turned into a hard shake of her head. “I...no.” She turned and fled.

  “Poor thing,” Denise murmured.

  I was staring at the door Lola had run out of. “How do you figure?”

  “She’s clearly upset.” Denise gave me a stern look. “Have a little sympathy.”

  I wasn’t sure why I should feel sorry for Lola, especially if she’d been negligent and had left a dishtowel on a burner. But I kept my mouth shut.

  Denise clucked her tongue as she looked around the kitchen. “It could have been worse,” she said. “Much, much worse.”

  Two firefighters rushed into the kitchen. One didn’t look much older than me. The other was probably in his early forties, with graying brown hair.

  “Looks like you had a bit of a fire,” the older one said, looking at me. I didn’t know why he assumed I was the one responsible.

  “Not me,” I said quickly. “The cook.”

  They looked to Denise.

  “Not me, either,” she told them. “She stepped out. She told us what happened, though.”

  I took a few steps back and Denise approached the range with the firefighters, pointing out what was left of the dishrag and the soot that covered the range. Miraculously, the stainless steel appliance looked remarkably intact, and there appeared to be very little smoke damage to the room. The air, however, was probably another matter.

  “What do you think is up with Lola?” I said in a low voice to Aidan.

  He shrugged. “Probably just feels bad about the fire. She might not be cooking in here anytime soon, and I don’t even know if it’ll be safe for the residents to eat in the dining room, either.”

  “Really?” I looked at him. “Just because of a small fire?”

  He nodded. “I’m not an expert, but we had a small grease fire in my house growing up. Burned up the range and put all these noxious chemicals in the air from the burnt plastic. We were out of our house for weeks while it was cleaned.”

  I gaped at him. “Seriously?”

  “Yep. I imagine regulations might be even stricter for facilities like this,” he said.

  I cradled my head in my hands. “Oh, wow. I had no idea.”

  “I could be wrong,” he cautioned. “It looks like the damage was pretty minimal. But still, they might need to do some air monitoring to make sure the air is safe, especially based on our population.”

  I nodded.

  He glanced toward the front of the building. “I think I’m going to head outside, see how everyone is doing. You feel like coming?”

  I hesitated. I did want to check on the residents, but I also thought someone should probably check on Lola, too. Her reaction made a little more sense now in light of what Aidan had just told me.

  “I’m going to see if Lola is okay first,” I said. “Then I’ll be out.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Can you make sure Billie is alright?” I asked. “She’s...” I swallowed. I didn’t want to admit she was my favorite.

  But I didn’t have to. Aidan just grinned and said, “Of course. I’ll find her, make sure she’s fine.”

  He left and I went in search of Lola.

  She wasn’t hard to find.

  She was standing in the hallway, about twenty feet away from the back entrance to the kitchen. She had a phone to her ear and she wasn’t speaking.

  I immediately wondered who was on the other end of the line. Her husband? Her best friend? I realized I knew absolutely nothing about her life outside of Oasis Ridge, but then again, she probably didn’t know much about me, either.

  I stood and waited, unsure what to do. Standing there without her knowing felt a little like I was spying on her. Eavesdropping.
But I also didn’t think it would be appropriate to announce myself, especially when she was so clearly in the middle of a conversation. And a part of me didn’t want to walk away, for reasons I couldn’t quite explain.

  “You don’t understand!” she erupted.

  I jumped and then quickly clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to muffle my startled squeal.

  Thankfully, she didn’t hear me.

  She just kept talking.

  “I am screwed,” she said loudly, to whomever it was she was talking to. “I thought I was out of the woods!”

  She was quiet for a minute, listening.

  Then, “First that evil Arthur tried to get me canned, and now I have to deal with this. How is it that I take care of one problem and then another one pops up? Huh? Explain that to me!”

  My mouth dropped open.

  I was fixated on one thing Lola said, one thing that brought me right back to what I’d been thinking about before the smoke had blown me off course.

  I’d been convinced Ruth was responsible for poisoning Arthur. Everything seemed to point to her.

  But after what Lola had just said?

  Now I wasn’t so sure.

  TWENTY EIGHT

  I hustled back to the kitchen before Lola could see me.

  My heart was racing, and not from the spike of adrenaline the fire had created.

  No, it was because I was fixated on Lola’s words.

  Denise was still talking with the firefighters, and to my surprise, Anne was now standing with them. She spoke animatedly, using her hands, pointing to the stove and the wall closest to it.

  “...a professional cleaning crew is already on the way,” Anne was saying. “I’m confident we’ll have this kitchen back up to speed in no time.”

  The older firefighter nodded. “It’s a good thing you had who you did in the kitchen. They managed to put this out before any real damage could occur.”

  Anne’s smile looked forced, fake. “Indeed. We are very grateful for Lola’s heroism.”

  I raised my eyebrows. Heroism? For putting out a fire she herself caused?

  Denise noticed me.