Previous Confections

by Ruth Hartzler

  “Because Ted was questioned again this morning!” Cherri’s voice rose to a high pitch. “I don’t know anyone else in town, but Jane has been nice to me. I don’t know what to do.” With that, she burst into tears.

  Matilda hurried over to her. “Can’t you see you’re upsetting the poor girl, Detective? She has no doubt come here again for some more sympathy. Like she said, she doesn’t know anyone else in town and she’s a long way from home.”

  Stirling narrowed his eyes once more. “I’m sure we’ll want to speak with you again soon, Mrs. Delight.”

  I was about to correct him automatically when I realized he was speaking to Cherri this time.

  Detective McCloud shot me a sympathetic look before following his partner out of the door.

  Cherri abruptly stopped crying, which made me wonder whether they had been crocodile tears. “The police questioned me earlier.”

  “What did they ask you?” I said.

  “They asked me if I have regular Botox injections or filler. I mean, the nerve of them! Why would they want to know about that? Sure I’ve had several procedures, but I can’t see what business it is of theirs. It’s an invasion of privacy!”

  I was wondering whether we should tell her about the Botox, but Matilda clearly thought we should. “You have to keep this to yourself Cherri, but we found out what the poison was.”

  Cherri gasped. “What was it?”

  “Clostridium botulinum,” Matilda said.

  Cherri looked blank, so I thought I had better explain. “That’s like Botox,” I said. “Botox is a deadly poison. It’s like botulism without the bacteria. You know, in bad food.”

  Cherri nodded. “Yes, I know what Botox is, Jane darling,” she said. “I have it on a regular basis.”

  I was surprised that someone so young would feel the need to have Botox. “Oh I see,” was all I said.

  “The detectives were just here asking about your background,” I told her. “We didn’t let on to them that we knew the poison was clostridium botulinum, but I’d say they were trying to find out if you or Ted had any medical background. Did you study nursing at college?”

  Cherri laughed softly. “Oh no, I was a fashion major. I would faint at the sight of blood.”

  “They’re obviously trying to see how someone could obtain Botox,” Matilda said and then clamped her hand over her mouth. “I forgot! That’s what I was coming downstairs to tell you when the detectives came and it went completely out of my mind.”

  “Well, what was it?” I prompted her.

  “I asked Eleanor to stop playing with Mr. Crumbles for a few moments and find out if it’s possible to buy Botox online without a prescription.”

  I rubbed my neck. It had been sore lately, most likely from me tossing and turning in my sleep. “Surely not! Wouldn’t someone need to be a doctor or a nurse or at least a beautician to gain access to it?”

  Matilda practically bounced up and down on the spot. “No! I was shocked too, but you can buy it online. In fact, Eleanor clicked on some injectable solution as well as some Botox powder and put it in her shopping cart. It didn’t ask her for any medical qualifications at all. It’s in another country and they do ship here. Plus, Eleanor found out that due to different regulations, it’s much easier to get it in some states than others.”

  I was shocked. “I can’t believe such a deadly poison would be so accessible to the public,” I said.

  Matilda appeared unperturbed. “Anyone could be killed a dozen times over from plants in the garden.”

  “Then anyone could have poisoned Marcus, anyone at all,” Cherri said. “I don’t see how that helps Ted.” She looked as though she was about to burst into tears, and I could see some regular customers heading our way.

  “Matilda, why don’t you take Cherri upstairs and make her some coffee?” I asked.

  Cherri at first was reluctant to leave. “Have you found out anything else about the case?” she asked us.

  “We found out the poison,” I said, “and please don’t tell anyone that we know.”

  “I won’t,” Cherri said.

  “And tonight we will make a list of all the suspects and then we will investigate them one at a time,” Matilda told her.

  Cherri suddenly smiled. “I suddenly feel better. I won’t need coffee after all. I have a great idea.”

  A sensation of dread at once hit me. “What is it?” I asked tentatively.

  “Leave tomorrow night free.” With that, she hurried out the door.

  Matilda turned to me. “That sounds ominous.”

  Chapter 9

  The morning had gone slowly, but by lunchtime, the customers came in droves. I was grateful I had been able to get the bulk of the baking done earlier. Both Matilda and Eleanor helped me serve customers. Matilda disappeared mid afternoon saying she had a bright idea. That made me somewhat uneasy, even more uneasy than Cherri’s similar proclamation. Things did not improve when she returned.

  “I’ve been doing some research. I called Cherri and asked her to call Candace Weatherspoon to ask for the name of the clinic where she has fillers and Botox.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “I wonder if she’ll be able to find out.”

  Matilda shot me a sly smile. “She’s already found out. Isn’t that wonderful!”

  “Oh yes,” I said, wondering why a feeling of impending doom suddenly beset me.

  “Actually, I have her doctor’s name and what’s more, I’ve made an appointment for you this evening. Isn’t that great! They run evening clinics.”

  I gripped the countertop with both hands. “You’re not serious, are you?”

  Matilda smiled and nodded. “You don’t have to have Botox or anything. The first consultation is free. Just go there and ask questions.”

  “But what questions could I possibly ask?” I said. “What possible good would it do for me to go there?”

  “Well, we don’t know, and that’s precisely why you have to go,” Matilda said as if it was the most logical thing in the world to say. “Snoop around the clinic—see where they keep the Botox. Who knows, you might even overhear something. Ask the doctor about the dangers of Botox. You could even ask if someone has to be licensed to administer it. I know, you could say that a local esthetician offers Botox and why is it safer if the doctor administers it, that sort of thing.”

  My head was already spinning. “I don’t like the sound of this, Matilda. I don’t like the sound of it at all.”

  “I can’t believe our luck booking you in this afternoon,” she said. “I told the receptionist Candace Weatherspoon recommend the clinic to you.”

  “What if the clinic finds out she didn’t?” I asked her.

  Matilda popped a sample cupcake into her mouth and chewed it slowly. After she finished, she said, “Never you mind. Candace is unlikely to go there today. You’re perfectly safe.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m not sure I like this sleuthing business,” I told her. “I’d never make a detective or a private detective at that.”

  “Oh, you’ll be fine,” Eleanor said as she entered the room, clutching Mr. Crumbles.

  “Eleanor, you know you can’t have a cat in the shop,” I said. “What if the health inspector sees him?”

  “He’s lonely, that’s all,” she said. “We’ve all been in the shop all day, and he’s not used to it. There’s been no one to spend time with him.”

  “Well, I’m sure Eleanor and I will be all right by ourselves, so you go and spend time with Mr. Crumbles,” I said, making shooing motions with my hands.

  Thankfully, Eleanor and Mr. Crumbles disappeared through the door, although Mr. Crumbles did shoot me rather a dirty backward glance.

  I wasn’t looking forward to having the appointment with the plastic surgeon, so it was with great trepidation Matilda and I drove to the clinic.

  “It looks awfully posh,” I said.

  “Look, you’re wearing your best clothes,” Matilda said. “Don’t worry abou
t it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “He might stab me to death with a syringe of Botox,” I said.

  For some reason, Matilda thought I was making a funny joke and clutched her sides laughing.

  “Matilda, I’m really nervous,” I said. “I’m quite scared about this.”

  “The first consultation is free, like I said,” Matilda said. “Just go in there and say you’ve never had plastic surgery before and you’re scared of having it. Ask what he can do for you.”

  I let out a long sigh. “Okay. Suppose it can’t be too bad.” I was trying to convince myself more than anything.

  When I walked over to the receptionist, her face startled me. I had never seen skin so tight on anyone before, and her eyebrows hung at an unusual angle. “I’m Jane Delight, here for Dr. Davidson at six,” I told her.

  She stared at me. “You haven’t been here before, have you?”

  “No.”

  She handed me a clipboard with a bunch of papers on it. “We like all new patients to fill out their medical history first. That’s why we asked you to come five minutes early. Just bring it back here when you’re finished.” With that, I was dismissed. She looked down and tapped away at her phone.

  I sat next to Matilda and filled out the usual paperwork—name, date of birth, address, any allergies, any medications and so on.

  When I completed it, I took it back to her.

  This time she thanked me but didn’t look up. “Dr. Davidson will be with you presently.”

  She had a strange idea of ‘presently’, because I waited another fifty minutes before I was summoned into Dr. Davidson’s consulting room. It looked more like a spa than a medical office.

  Dr. Davidson clearly partook of his own services. I had no idea of his age because his hair was colored brown with golden highlights. It was that type of brown hair color that cannot be natural, and his eyebrows were an even darker shade of brown and were rather a nice shape. His skin too was quite tight, and he had very sharp cheekbones. His nose was paper thin, so thin I wondered if he could even breathe properly.

  Dr. Davidson indicated that I should set and then flipped through my notes. I took the opportunity to study the room. No vials of medication were on display.

  “So, obviously you’ve never had any work done,” he said.

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “Do you mind if I ask why now, at your age?” He said, with only the slightest hint of disdain.

  “Well, my husband left me and ran off with a younger woman,” I said. It was the first thing that came into my head, and I figured it would be believable.

  Dr. Davidson nodded sagely. “Quite so, quite so. And when did this happen?”

  “It was several months ago now,” I told him. “Almost a year.”

  “Ah, what a shame you didn’t come to me sooner, much, much, much sooner.”

  I glared at him, wondering how many more times he could say, ‘much’.

  He was still speaking. “I advise people to start procedures at a much, much, much younger age than yours.”

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I had been raised Amish, and we didn’t even have mirrors, apart from the small mirrors the men used for shaving. Consequently, when I had entered the non-Amish world, I wasn’t accustomed to the concept of vanity, but I must admit I had become somewhat vain over the years. His mention of my age made me squirm. Unfortunately, he continued.

  “So how old are you now?” He consulted his notes. “I see. Almost fifty-one years old.” He tut-tutted. “It is rather an advanced age to be starting procedures.”

  I scowled at him, but then remembered I was there under false pretenses.

  He looked up and must have caught my expression because he hastened to add, “Well, it’s never too late to start. I’ll make you look a lot younger.” He sighed and wiped his brow. “Actually, with you, I don’t know where to start. There’s so much to be done. Obviously, we need to lift your eyes, and then you…” He broke off and consulted his notes once more.

  I was rather offended. I think he thought every part of me needed to be remodeled.

  “I’m quite afraid of surgery,” I said. “Couldn’t I start with nonsurgical procedures first and then work my way up to it when I got a bit braver?”

  He shook his head. His expression was grim. “I’m afraid fillers and Botox can only do so much for a woman of your age who has never had procedures before.” He cast me a sad look.

  I fought the urge to run out of the room. “So Botox won’t help me?”

  His face lit up. “On the contrary, it will help you very much. It will help your sagging jawline and the fine lines around your mouth and your eyes. I assume you did a lot of crying after husband left you?”

  I nodded.

  He pushed on. “Yes, it shows on your face. It’s best to avoid crying and smiling, really.”

  “I see,” I said. “And would you recommend fillers or Botox or both?”

  “Both, of course,” he said.

  He stared at me, and a heavy silence fell. I felt I should say something. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not really,” he said, “but beauty always hurts. That’s the price we have to pay now, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose so,” I said. “I’ve heard Botox brings excellent results. My friend, Candace Weatherspoon, told me that.”

  “It’s a shame you didn’t take her advice sooner,” he scolded me.

  “Um, yes, yes,” I stammered. “However, I’ve noticed there are some estheticians who also offer Botox at quite a low price. However, I’ve heard it can be dangerous, so I assume it would be much safer to go to you for the procedure.”

  “Most definitely,” he said.

  I could see he wasn’t going to be forthcoming, so I tried to draw him out. “And will I be in any danger from Botox?”

  “There are dangers in everything,” he said, “although far less from a skilled practitioner such as myself. Read this information to inform yourself.” He pushed some papers across the desk at me and tapped them.

  “So, could it be dangerous?”

  “Yes, it could be dangerous,” he said, “and there might be some unpleasant side-effects. Sometimes one side of the face is paralysed and not the other. Of course, I’m highly experienced so you don’t need to worry.”

  I could see he was only interested in the cosmetic implications. I added, “But can it kill you?”

  He was so surprised he gave a little start. “Goodness me, I certainly hope not! Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  I nodded. “I’m sure you’ll think I’m silly,” I said, “but I have heard of people dying from botulism.”

  He laughed in an overly condescending manner. “No, it’s quite safe in the small amounts we give it. There are no bacteria in Botox.”

  I could see this appointment was a complete waste of my time. There were no bottles of Botox in his office. In fact, I couldn’t see any products at all. I had gained nothing by visiting him. He could only cast aspersions about my age. I racked my brains trying to think of something else I could ask him. “So after someone has lots of Botox and dermal fillers from you, maybe after a few years, do you give them Botox and fillers to inject into their own faces at home?”

  He looked shocked. “No, not at all. That would be most inappropriate as they wouldn’t have the skills to do it.”

  My theory was busted. I had visions of Candace pretending she wanted Botox and taking home a few vials so she could poison Marcus Matheson.

  “Well, it’s certainly a lot to think over,” I told him. “What you think I should have first?”

  “I’d suggest dermal fillers, Botox, microdermabrasion, and laser skin resurfacing treatments at least. And that’s just for starters. Later you can have a face lift, rhinoplasty, neck and eyelid surgery, brow lift, and a forehead lift.” He smiled and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “You do need a lot of work, you understand.”

  I stood up. “Thanks, I think, Dr. David
son. All right then, I’ll be on my way.” I clutched the information sheets and hurried out of the consulting room. I’m sure he wanted to tell me more, but I just didn’t want to hang around and listen.

  I walked back to Matilda in the waiting room. “How did it go?” she asked me. I merely shook my head.

  When we were outside and safely out of earshot, I told her what had happened. “And so it was a complete waste of time,” I concluded. “The only thing I found out was that he never gives anyone Botox or dermal fillers to inject into themselves at home, but we’d already figured that out for ourselves. The whole thing was a complete waste of time,” I repeated.

  Matilda waved a finger at me. “Not quite. I had a snoop around the clinic, and I found the room where they keep their medications.”

  I was shocked. “How on earth did you do that, Matilda?”

  “I asked where the bathroom was and went into the wrong room. Of course, a nurse told me to leave immediately, but I got a good look first.”

  “Did you see where the Botox was?” I asked her.

  “I didn’t get close enough to read the label, but I saw some bottles of medication.”

  “Do you think someone could slip in and steal any?”

  “Well, they certainly saw me trying, and I’m quite good at sneaking around,” she said. “Besides, I noticed the cabinets were locked.”

  “So if Candace is the murderer, it’s unlikely she acquired her Botox from here.”

  Matilda agreed. “It is most unlikely. However, the murderer probably bought it online. I mean, if we found where to source it fairly quickly, then someone who is intending to murder someone with Botox would find the same thing.”

  Chapter 10

  I arrived home feeling somewhat deflated that the plastic surgeon thought I was a train wreck. Matilda had done her best to cheer me up in her own way.

  “I don’t know why you’re so upset,” Matilda said for the umpteenth time. “Amish aren’t supposed to be vain.”

  “But I haven’t been Amish for years now,” I protested, “and it did hurt my feelings, to be honest.”