Previous Confections

by Ruth Hartzler

  “But Amish don’t even have mirrors, do they?” Matilda said. “If you’re upset, just don’t look in a mirror.”

  I shrugged. I might as well hold my breath. Matilda opened the apartment door while still talking to me. I reached out to grab the door handle to prevent it from opening further. I always opened it a little at a time so Mr. Crumbles wouldn’t make a dash for it, but Matilda must have been so engrossed in lecturing me about vanity that she wasn’t thinking.

  A gray streak rang through Matilda’s legs, setting her off balance. I grabbed her arm to steady her and then shrieked, “Mr. Crumbles!”

  “Eleanor is going to kill me!” Matilda said. She took off after the cat, leaving me standing with my mouth open. I had no idea Matilda could run so fast.

  I took off after her. To my enormous relief, Mr. Crumbles was sitting on the sidewalk. Matilda bent down to pick him up, but as her hands were only inches from him, he took off again.

  Once more, we gave chase. There were some houses not far from Rebecca’s shop. Mr. Crumbles jumped the gate and ran into someone’s garden, sprinted to the front door, and disappeared from view.

  “Where did he go?” Matilda cried.

  I pointed to the large dog door in the front door. “They have a dog door,” I said. Both of us let ourselves in through the front gate and ran up the path.

  “This is Mr. Cheever’s house,” Matilda said. “He has a Beagle.” She banged on the door. “Mr. Cheever? Mr. Cheever? It’s Matilda Birtwistle. Are you home?”

  After the fifth time she had yelled his name, we concluded he wasn’t home. “He must be out walking his dog,” Matilda said, “because the dog barks a lot and so we’d know if his dog was inside.”

  “What are we going to do?” I asked Matilda. “I suppose we could sit here and wait until he comes home.”

  “But what if he’s visiting his son in Florida?” Matilda said. “He visits him several times a year. I know, I’ll peep through the dog door.” She bent down and looked through. I heard a muffled sound and then a yell.

  “What happened?” I asked her when she emerged.

  “That naughty cat is sitting just out of reach,” she said. “When I reached for him, he swatted at my hand. He thought it was a joke.”

  “Call Eleanor and ask her to bring his treats,” I said.

  Matilda shrank back. “Eleanor will kill me,” she said again.

  “Look, we really don’t have much choice.”

  Matilda pointed to the door. It was quite a pretty door, freshly painted in pale powdery blue, contrasting with the old, tired beige walls of the house. “You try, Jane. You’re taller and skinnier than I am, so you might be able to reach Mr. Crumbles and pull him out.”

  I was doubtful, but I didn’t see I had a choice. “Okay,” I said with a resigned sigh. I bent down and shimmied through the dog door. Indeed, Mr. Crumbles was sitting there. Was it my imagination, or was he smirking at me? He certainly seemed to be enjoying the scene unfolding before him.

  “Here kitty, kitty,” I said in what I hoped was an encouraging tone. “Come here, Mr. Crumbles.”

  Mr. Crumbles just sat there glaring at me. Granted, it was his regular expression, but he made no move toward me.

  “Come along, nice kitty,” I said again. This time Mr. Crumbles walked a couple steps toward me.

  I stretched out my hands for him, but he was just out of reach. Since he didn’t look like he was going anywhere, I put one hand on the ground and with the other hand lunged to him. In what was excellent timing on his part, he waited until my hand was ever so close before sprinting away.

  “He’s run away,” I called out to Matilda. I tried to shimmy backward, but I was stuck. On my next attempt, I realized my hips were firmly wedged in the dog door. The edges of the dog door dug into me. “Help!” I cried to Matilda. “I’m stuck!”

  The next thing I knew two hands were on my ankles pulling me. Apart from the fact it felt like a nice physical therapy session for my spine, it did absolutely no good.

  “It hasn’t helped,” Matilda said, echoing my thoughts. “You’re well and truly stuck.”

  “I know I’m stuck,” I said. A moment of panic hit me. Would emergency services have to come and cut me out of the door? All sorts of horrible possibilities flashed through my mind.

  “I’m making some calls,” Matilda said, her voice fading away. I heard her footsteps walking away from the door.

  “Don’t leave me,” I wailed. Mr. Crumbles had come back and was sitting just out of reach once more, looking at me. “I can’t believe you did that,” I said to him.

  He just sat there, frowning at me.

  Presently I heard Matilda’s voice again. “Don’t worry, I called Eleanor to bring his treats. She was awfully angry with me and said… Well, never mind what she said. It wouldn’t be good to repeat it in polite company. Anyway, she’ll be here soon with the cat treats.”

  “But what good will that do, because I’m stuck in the door? Help me!” I yelled.

  “There’s no need to worry. I’ve called the firefighters.”

  My blood ran cold. “No, Matilda, please cancel them.”

  “But how will we get you out?”

  “Just pull a bit harder,” I said. “I’d be embarrassed if the firefighters came.” I closed my eyes tightly and tried to imagine the scene that would greet them with the end half of me stuck out the door. “Pull harder!” I screeched.

  “Don’t worry. When Eleanor comes, we’ll take a leg each,” Matilda said.

  I didn’t know if that was supposed to comfort me or not.

  “Oh look, here she is now.”

  I could hear talking in muffled tones and then I heard Matilda cry, “Ready!”

  Hands gripped my feet and then pulled hard. “It hurts,” I whimpered.

  “Honestly Eleanor, you weren’t supposed to pull at the same time as I did. I told you we should take it in turns to pull on a leg.”

  “I don’t recall you saying that,” Eleanor said. “When did you say that?”

  The next thing I knew they were taking turns pulling on my legs. “It’s not working,” Matilda lamented loudly.

  They stopped talking for a while and I wondered what was going on. Mr. Crumbles hadn’t moved an inch. He was staring at me as if he was watching a good movie on TV.

  I heard a male voice. The owner of the voice apparently knew Eleanor and Matilda as they all seemed excited to see each other.

  I wondered where they had met and then it finally hit me. Oh no! I bet it was that firefighter! Dreadful memories of the calendar flashed through my mind.

  “Don’t worry, Miss Delight, we’ll have you out of there in no time,” said the male voice. “I’m going to try to wedge you out.”

  He pulled hard on my legs, but nothing happened. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you out in no time,” he said again. I then heard him add more quietly, “It doesn’t look good at all. I think she’s firmly stuck.”

  To me, he said loudly, “Can you edge forward at all?”

  “No, I’m stuck,” I said. I should have thought that was obvious.

  “Let me explain,” he said. “If someone is trying to remove a fence post from the ground and it’s stuck, sometimes it helps to hit the post on the top of the head with a mallet. That’s what we’re trying to do with you.”

  I rubbed my forehead. His reasoning entirely eluded me, but I did try to edge forward a little. “I don’t know if that helped,” I said.

  Eleanor piped up. “Will the butter help now?”

  “It’s worth a try,” the firefighters said.

  I could now hear Eleanor’s voice close to me. “I’m going to try to push butter around the edge of the door. It might feel horrible.”

  “I don’t care how it feels,” I said wearily. “As long as it helps.”

  Still, the butter was cold and did indeed feel quite unpleasant oozing through my clothes.

  “Good job, Eleanor,” the firefighter said. “Now Miss Delight,
I’m going to make another attempt to free you. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  The next thing I knew, I was flying backward through the door. I lay there dazed on the porch looking up at the potted plant above. “Thank you,” I said.

  “Always happy to help a relative of my good friends, Matilda and Eleanor,” the firefighter said.

  “But I’m not…” I began, but he interrupted me.

  “I can tell you’re related by your bottom.”

  My jaw fell open, and I struggled to my feet. “We’re not related,” I told him. “And why aren’t you in uniform?”

  “We called Gene on his private cell phone,” Matilda said, frowning as if I had said something rather silly. To the firefighter, she said, “Thanks so much for your help. I didn’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come to our aid.”

  I struggled to my feet in time to see Eleanor up to her waist in the dog door. Luckily, she was far skinnier than I was. She soon emerged clutching the little cat to her. “Poor Mr. Crumbles, poor Mr. Crumbles,” she said. “What a terrible time you’ve had. My sister will have to be more careful.” She shot Matilda a dark look and stormed away, still clutching Mr. Crumbles to her.

  He looked over her shoulder at me. I was almost certain he smiled.

  Chapter 11

  Matters did not improve at all. Cherri had called and revealed her surprise. It was more a shock than a surprise. Candace was having a Botox party at her house that night. Cherri was invited, and she had wrangled an invitation for the three of us.

  Matilda was excited, saying it was a good idea to study two of the main suspects, Candace Weatherspoon and the vic’s wife. I agreed it was an excellent opportunity in theory, but I didn’t want to have another experience with Botox. Still, I supposed it was inevitable since it was the poison in question and I was supposed to be investigating.

  I spent the whole day dreading the Botox party. After a particularly difficult customer left, I said to Matilda, “I don’t see how I can go to a Botox party and not have Botox.”

  “I’m certainly getting some,” Matilda said. “We don’t want to blow our cover, now do we?”

  I gasped. “You’re actually going to have Botox at the party?”

  She shrugged. “Why not? It might help my face.” She patted her face and then laughed. “I’m only joking. Eleanor and I can just say it wouldn’t do us any good. What’s your excuse?”

  “I’m going to say I’m scared of needles, but I’m thinking about it,” I said. “Dr. Davidson will probably be there, given he is Candace’s plastic surgeon. If so, that will be good because I told him I was frightened. Anyway, what usually happens at Botox parties? I’ve heard them mentioned on TV, but that’s about the extent of my knowledge.”

  “I made Eleanor google it,” Matilda said. “What a shame Botox injections weren’t around in Miss Marple’s time. Otherwise, she might have some sound advice for us.”

  I smiled. “Yes, it’s a pity, isn’t it.”

  Matilda nodded. “Apparently, people sit around and drink alcohol and have Botox injections. To clarify, I suppose it a party where people are injected with Botox.”

  “I really can’t picture it,” I said.

  “And they probably have dermal fillers as well,” Matilda added, rearranging a tray of lemon cupcakes with lavender frosting.

  I wished I could think of a way to get out of the party. It didn’t sound like my idea of fun.

  The day passed quickly, and at six, Matilda, Eleanor and I piled into my car and headed in the direction of Candace and Rick Weatherspoons’ house. Eleanor was navigating, and I was impressed. “You’re a good navigator,” I said to Eleanor.

  “I guess I’ve had plenty of practice,” Eleanor began, before Matilda, who was in the back seat, leaned forward and tapped Eleanor on her shoulder.

  They didn’t say another word until we arrived at the Weatherspoons’ house. A curved driveway swept past manicured lawns and hedges. The house itself was substantial and imposing, cream brick with a red roof and several dormer windows.

  Cherri met us at the door. “Oh Jane darling, I said you had to dress up,” she said with obvious disappointment, looking me up and down.

  My spirits fell. “I did dress up,” I said, looking down at my pretty dress.

  “You look good,” Matilda whispered in my ear, “not like those others.”

  It did seem to me that everyone was dressed in an over the top manner. They looked as though they were going to a significant event, not a private party in someone’s home. Cherri, for one, was wearing a tight, low-cut, green dress which appeared to be comprised wholly of oversized sequins.

  Candace, dressed in soft pink ruffles, hurried over and took my hand with both her hands. “It’s lovely to see you again, Jane. Thankfully it’s under better circumstances this time.”

  I introduced Matilda and Eleanor. Candace nodded at them and promptly left.

  “Now see what you can find out,” Cherri said in a whisper.

  The champagne was flowing freely. A waiter came over and pushed a champagne flute into my hands. “No thanks, I’m driving,” I said. She smiled and hurried away. I placed the flute on an elegant table.

  The foyer had a spectacular marble in various shades of gray and my eye was drawn to two giant bronze statues standing in front of the curved staircase. Cherri led us into another room. This room was expansive, although the ceiling height seemed a little lower than it should have been in such a house as this. Here the carpets were cream and walls buttercup yellow. From this room could be seen various other rooms, such as a billiards room and a sitting room. Multi-colored floor rugs were scattered everywhere. The furniture was white but adorned with cushions of every color.

  “Jane,” a voice said behind me. I turned around to see Melissa Matheson. “I’m so sorry about your husband,” I said.

  “Candace insisted I come here tonight,” she said. “She’s worried about leaving me alone.”

  I introduced Matilda and Eleanor, and then Matilda said, “So you haven’t returned to New York?”

  Melissa shook her head. “No, the police said I have to stay in town after, you know, after what happened to Marcus.”

  We all offered our condolences.

  Candace returned and handed each of us a sheet of paper. “What is it?” I asked Cherri.

  “It’s a legal waiver of course,” she said. “It absolves the doctor and nurse of responsibility if something goes wrong.”

  “I see,” I said. “Well, I’m not going to have any.”

  Cherri was visibly surprised. “But, but it’s a Botox party,” she stammered.

  “Yes, but we both know why I’m here, don’t we.” When she simply looked at me blankly, I wiggled my eyebrows. Finally, she clutched her throat and laughed. “Oh yes, I see. Of course! But shouldn’t you just pretend?”

  “How can someone pretend to be injected with Botox?” I asked her.

  She looked confused and sipped her champagne daintily.

  Dr. Davidson was soon ushered into the room with a woman who was announced as Julia, the nurse. Candace hurried over to welcome them.

  Dr. Davidson caught sight of me. “I didn’t expect to see you here. Have you changed your mind?”

  “I’m not quite there yet,” I said. “I thought it would be good for me to see it happen to other people and that might make me more confident.”

  “Yes, that’s a very good idea,” he said. His tone was genuine. He smiled and excused himself.

  A moment of panic hit me when I realized I had previously told him that Candace Weatherspoon recommended him. I certainly hoped he wouldn’t bring it up with her, but I didn’t see why he would bother.

  As Candace was still standing next to me, I took the opportunity to question her. “Candace, can only a doctor administer Botox and dermal fillers in this state?”

  Eleanor had already done an internet search of course, although the information was somewhat confusing.

/>   “A nurse can administer it under the supervision of a doctor,” she said. “Julia always comes here with Dr. Davidson, but he goes out and spends time with Rick. They’re good friends, and this is a girls only party you see.”

  “Yes that makes sense,” I said at the same time thinking that it sounded awfully irresponsible to me when the law stated he should supervise.

  Candace moved away to speak with someone else, and I noticed that some of the women were standing around giggling. A woman I didn’t know staggered over to me, clutching a glass. She reeked of gin. “I’m only going to have a tiny bit between my eyebrows,” she said, pointing to the location in question. I peered at her face.

  “But surely you don’t need it,” I said.

  She laughed. “You’re so kind.” However, I meant it. Her skin was stretched so tightly that a tennis ball would bounce off it freely. She didn’t have so much as a single fine line.

  Candace and Melissa walked arm in arm past me. “You really should have some more fillers,” Candace said to Melissa. “It will cheer you up.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said, “but it doesn’t seem the right thing to do now with Marcus gone.” She sniffled.

  Matilda took me aside. We stood under the cover of a giant Japanese Peace Lily. “You know, these people are getting more and more inebriated. Dr. Davidson is with Candace’s husband in the pool house, so keep an eye on those vials of Botox. Cherri tells me Candace has Botox parties on a regular basis.”

  “Yes, but it’s important to note that Candace’s husband, Rick, and Dr. Davidson are good friends,” I said. “That would make it very easy for Rick to procure all the Botox he needed from the doctor.”

  Matilda disagreed. “The doctor would have to be in on it, in that case.”

  I bit my lip. I didn’t think of that. After an interval, I added, “But you have to admit it, Rick has better access to Botox than a normal person would have.”

  “Yes, but Melissa and Candace have the best access,” Matilda said. “And Cherri too, for that matter.”

  Julia, the nurse, came over and introduced herself. She seemed quite a pleasant woman. However, she did her best to encourage us to have Botox. “You only have to spend fifty dollars,” she encouraged us.