by Jane Gorman
Anna’s shoulders tightened and she narrowed her eyes, staring at the woman who had just tried to kill her. “I know enough about how the poison works. And apparently so do you. You knew George always put that lotion on right out of the shower. In a hot, humid bathroom. The heat would cause the nicotine to decompose, making it even deadlier than usual. The way George suffered from his eczema, he must have slathered that cream all over himself. Makes sense that when he came down to breakfast half an hour later, he was almost dead already.”
“I guess there’s no point asking you why you did it,” Evan said to Catherine. “I know most murders are committed by spouses and partners. Maybe there’s no understanding marital anger.”
Catherine didn’t respond, but Anna could see the silent gloat in her eyes.
“You think you’re so clever,” Anna said. “But I know why you killed him. It was the Pink Passion, wasn’t it?”
“The what?” Evan asked, clearly confused.
Catherine did not look confused. “Of course it was the Pink Passion.” She spat out the words, glaring at Anna. “I found out about the club and was mortified. I’d rather have a dead husband that one who frequents transvestite bars.”
“But why do it here?” Sammy asked, throwing both hands in the air. “You could’ve killed him any time at home.”
Catherine’s face grew even more bitter. “I needed him to die here. Far away from me, from our home. But the stupid man took the wrong bottle, didn’t he? After all my planning, he took the wrong lotion. Stupid man couldn’t even do that right.”
“Good to know you had a motive.” Everyone turned to see Detective Walsh standing in the doorway.
“You really need to get in the habit of locking your door,” Sammy whispered.
“Sorry to startle you, the front door was wide open,” Walsh said, looking around the room. He looked carefully at Catherine, cuffed to the chair, then turned to Evan. “Good job, Patrolman Burley. Well done. We’ll take it from here,” he added as another uniformed officer followed him into the lounge. “You coming with us, Burley? We’ll need your statement.”
“I’ll be there in a minute, Detective.” He glanced at Anna. “I need to make sure things are safe and calm here.”
Walsh eyed the two women. “I’ll need your statements, too. Once you’re ready to give them.”
“Of course,” Sammy said.
“Absolutely,” Anna said.
Evan approached her once more, taking her hands and gently sliding onto the sofa next to her. “Are you sure you’re okay? Both of you?” he added, looking at Sammy.
Anna nodded. “We are now. Just…”
“Terrified.” Sammy finished her sentence.
“Terrified.” Anna repeated. “But safe now.” She let out a shuddering breath and felt more tears coming.
Evan raised a hand and wiped a tear from her cheek. “You did good, Anna. You showed incredible bravery tonight. You, too, Sammy.”
“I know.” Sammy sighed and slid onto the window seat, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.
Anna let her eyes close, too, as she lay back against Evan. He felt warm and safe.
49
“To us.” Sammy held her cocktail glass high. Anna, Luke and Eoin clinked their glasses with hers and they all took a sip. Sammy grimaced. “It’s stronger than I remember.”
Eoin mimicked Sammy’s expression, but then licked his lips. “It’s sweet, I like it.”
“That’s because it’s only just noon,” Luke said to Sammy, laughing. “You two better eat something with these.”
“Ugh, I couldn’t eat another bite.” Anna held a hand over her stomach.
Sammy had spent the night at Anna’s, neither woman eager to be alone after their encounter with Catherine Hedley. After a late start and a brunch of french toast, maple syrup, fresh strawberries and crispy bacon, they had settled down to digest when Luke came over.
Clearly, it was time to celebrate.
“I still can’t believe what you two ladies went through yesterday,” Luke said, leaning back against the sofa, one arm draped causally across the back toward Anna, who sat next to him. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t here to help. Once the cops finished questioning me, I went home and crashed.”
Sammy settled into the window seat. “Don’t be silly. We know you couldn’t be here because of those ridiculous cops.”
“Ridiculous cops?” Evan spoke from the doorway. He wore jeans and a windbreaker, his aviator glasses hanging from the V-neck of his black T-shirt. His hair looked mussed from the wind and he ran a hand through it to straighten it out as he spoke.
Anna jumped up from the sofa and Luke frowned, first at Evan then at Anna.
“Evan, we didn’t hear you come in.”
“You seem to be a little distracted,” he replied, looking around the room, his eyes pausing briefly on Eoin, seated crosslegged on the floor, both hands grasping a glass full of a similarly colored pink beverage. “Got one of those to spare?”
“You betcha,” Sammy said as she stood. “And don’t worry, Eoin’s is pink lemonade. I’ll be right back with the real thing for you.” She pushed her way through the kitchen door.
Anna stood in the middle of the room, first smiling at Evan, who had stopped in the doorway, then at Luke, who was sitting up on the sofa. “I don’t think you two have met yet.”
“Oh, we met.” Luke said. “At the station.”
“Right. No hard feelings, I hope. You understand we were just doing our jobs.” Evan shuffled his feet as he spoke but kept his gaze firmly on Luke. “Murder investigations aren’t easy.”
“Sure.” Luke raised his glass in a sort of toast to Evan before taking another sip.
Sammy barged into the room waving Evan’s glass around. “A fresh Scofflaw for the officer of the law.” She passed the glass to Evan then settled back onto the window seat. Evan followed Anna as she returned to the sofa, sliding into the chair that only last evening had held Catherine Hedley. He shifted a little in the chair and raised his glass. “Cheers.”
“To you,” Anna said. “For being here and saving us.”
Luke’s lips narrowed, but he took a small sip. “So tell me again how you figured it out.”
“It was the seagulls,” Anna explained.
“Yeah, I don’t get that either,” Evan said, shaking his head. “What seagulls?”
“When I talked to Catherine at church on Sunday, she criticized my cheap seagull art. But I took that picture down right after George checked in.”
“So if she didn’t get down here until after George died,” Sammy chimed in, “there’s no way she could have seen the painting.”
“Exactly,” Anna took up the tale again. “At the time, it struck me as odd that she’d seen it, but I figured maybe she had come down earlier. To help George unpack or something.”
“Right, but she said she didn’t.” Evan jumped in. “We confirmed she was in Trenton that morning, and never checked her alibi for the evening before.”
Anna nodded. “And when you told me that morning was her first time in my house, I should have made the connection immediately. It wasn’t until I had stepped away from the investigation—”
“Going through Aunt Louise’s room,” Sammy interrupted her.
“Then you figured it out,” Evan finished her thought. “Genius.”
“But I still don’t see why George would put the poison all over himself,” Luke said.
Sammy raised her eyebrows and took another drink. Evan looked at Anna expectantly.
She shrugged. “She probably just handed him the lotion, told him it would make him feel better, and he used it. Why wouldn’t he trust her? Then she left and we never knew she was here.”
“Ah, the ghost.” Luke held up a finger. “You thought someone had snuck in, but didn’t see anyone.”
Anna put her glass down on the coffee table, linked her hands behind her head and sat back, closing her eyes. “I just feel bad,” she said.
>
“You do? Why?” Luke asked.
She opened her eyes. “I wish I had recognized the symptoms of poisoning when I saw George that morning. I was so focused on my breakfast. My stupid scones. Maybe I could have saved him.”
Evan leaned forward in his seat and put a hand on her leg. “It’s not your fault, Anna. We don’t know if there’s anything you could have done. And I have to admit, you did help catch his killer.”
Anna turned her head to look at him. “Would Detective Walsh admit that?”
“Ha, of course not.” Evan leaned back. “I told him you were the one who produced the vial and suggested we test it, but he didn’t take that too well.”
“He didn’t want my help?” Anna raised her eyebrows.
“He didn’t want to hear that he hadn’t singled out the critical piece of evidence faster. We took samples of all of George’s toiletries, of course, but we were still waiting for the test results. It was only thanks to you that we were able to identify the specific sample to focus on and prioritize that test.”
“Maybe he needs to do a better job of detecting next time.” Luke mumbled the words into his glass, but everyone heard them.
Evan frowned. Sammy laughed out loud.
Anna felt laughter bubbling up from inside her and let it out, enjoying the feeling of happiness and safety, surrounded by friends and family. She and Sammy laughed until they cried, tears running down their faces.
She did feel better for having helped catch George’s killer. For getting Luke off the hook. And for getting to know George a little bit better in the process. A lonely, unhappy man, awkward around people, looking for a way to relax and enjoy himself.
When she finally regained control, she wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked around the room. Things would be okay. She had new guests coming tomorrow, and even more booked for the following week. After a start like this, things could only get better. Right?
The Scofflaw
Curious about the cocktail? The term “scofflaw” was coined as the result of a competition in 1924. A wealthy prohibitionist wanted a word that would refer to lawless drinkers. He sponsored a contest and two participants came up with the same term: scofflaw.
Scofflaw the drink was also created in 1924, in the midst of prohibition. But it was created at Harry’s Bar in Paris, not in the United States, the name clearly a barb aimed at those poor American tipplers who would be breaking the law if they drank it!
Ingredients:
2 oz. Bourbon or rye whiskey
1 oz. dry vermouth
3/4 oz. fresh lemon juice
1/2 oz. grenadine
2 dashes orange bitters
Combine ingredients in a cocktail shaker, add ice and shake. Serve in a cocktail glass. As with all cocktails, modify quantities to suit your taste!
Cape May
The entire Jersey Shore town of Cape May is a National Historic Landmark, due in no small part to the gorgeous Victorian mansions that dominate the town center — all the colorful gingerbread trim, gables and turrets. How did Cape May, a town that was already a beach destination in 1766, end up with this particular style, you ask?
After its start with rustic lodges and small cabins, the island by the early nineteenth century was attracting well-to-do tourists and boasted a variety of boarding houses, private homes and large hotels. But a devastating fire in 1878 destroyed over thirty acres of the city.
Refusing to be cowed by the disaster, residents of Cape May joined together to rebuild their town. They did so in the style of the time. They rebuilt on a smaller scale, no longer trying to become the biggest seaside resort in New Jersey ― simply the best. The homes and businesses that were rebuilt after the great fire remain as perfect examples of late nineteenth-century architecture and design. You can see buildings in Queen Anne, Gothic and, of course, Victorian styles. While the fire was no doubt a catastrophe, it’s the reason why Cape May is so attractive today.
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed reading Scones and Scofflaws as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you liked the story, please leave a review on the website of the store where you purchased your copy. I can’t tell you how important reviews are to authors! You can find out more about upcoming books in the series on my website here, you can sign up for my newsletter here, and you can follow me on Facebook here.
I’ve been dreaming of writing my Cape May Cozy Mystery Series for years. Anna is based (loosely) on my beautiful niece, who inspires me with her creativity, energy, drive and ambition. I have no doubt the real Anna will go far!
Cape May is an inspiration for me as well. Only a little over an hour away from my home, Cape May has been the site of too many vacations and weekend jaunts to count, not least of which was my own wedding in the historic beach town. I hope my writing has captured the beauty, joy and peacefulness that the town offers visitors. And the unique nature of each of the many B&Bs there!
While writing a book requires sitting alone at a computer for long stretches, it is not a solitary activity. I would like to thank my early readers and my general writing support group, Jane Kelly, Matty Dalrymple, Lisa Regan and James McCrone. Where would I be without Table 25? I also want to thank Terry Grundy for his accurate and insightful edits and the fabulous Daniela with Stunning Book Covers for this beautiful cover design. I owe a debt of gratitude to Janet Chrzan for her review of my medical anthropology details. I am a cultural anthropologist by training, so I may have taken some liberties with the specifics about medical anthropology – for that, I apologize and take full responsibility!
Finally, I want to thank you, my readers. I write books that I love to read, and if you’re a fan of cozy mysteries, then I know we have much in common! Please reach out with any thoughts, comments, ideas or questions. You can contact me through my website or my Facebook page. I hope you enjoyed this book and are looking forward to the next book in the series!