by Mary Maxwell
“What do you mean by that?”
She leaned forward, closing her eyes. “None of this,” she said again. “The cupcakes were supposed to be my way in, okay? Tim was supposed to eat them. And then I’d save him by being there when he started feeling sick from the poison. I’d already planned everything, how I would take him to the hospital and explain that some fingernail remover accidentally ended up in the frosting. I ran through it all so many times in front of the bathroom mirror that I ended up believing it could be true.” She paused for a breath. “I’m a good actress when I need to be, you know? I mean, everybody’s acting all the time anyway, acting and telling little lies and creating totally fake personas that they hide behind.”
The conviction in her voice was clear; she actually believed what she was saying.
“And the guy in Delilah’s apartment…” Her eyes blinked open. “It’s all just completely spun off the rails, okay?”
“Sure,” I said. “I can see that.”
“And if you would’ve just kept your nose out of things…” There was a new edge to her voice, a jagged tinge of fury that I’d heard before when people felt backed into a corner and were about to snap.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean to make things more complicated for you. I was just trying to help my neighbor find her—”
“Why can’t you keep your mouth shut?” she screamed. “I don’t want you to talk. I don’t want you to even think about it.”
She lifted her head, turning slightly to study at a woman coming toward the car. Then she slowly removed the snub-nosed revolver from her coat.
“This wasn’t supposed to be in my hand.” She stared briefly at the gun trembling between her slender fingers. “And you weren’t supposed to be in the coffee shop. And Hannah wasn’t supposed to find out that I had a crush on Tim. And Tim wasn’t supposed to give the cupcakes to the guy across the hall.”
I nodded. “But things happened?”
“My plan would’ve worked if Tim hadn’t given the cupcakes away,” Lois muttered. “When I heard that Delmar was in the ICU with cyanide poisoning—I realized that the whole idea had gone wrong.” She shook her head, steadying the revolver with both hands. “And since he saw me leave the cupcakes outside Tim’s apartment, I had to do something about him so he wouldn’t tell the police.”
“Is that why you went to the hospital?”
She stared at me blankly. “What?”
“When you heard about Delmar Singer?” I said slowly. “You followed Tim to the hospital, waited until he left and then went in while the nurses were away from the room.”
“Yes, like they do in the movies,” she said. “I just pressed the pillow against his face until he stopped breathing. I couldn’t believe it worked. And I couldn’t believe that I did it.” She whimpered slightly and a few tears trickled down her cheeks. “But that’s what I had to do. I couldn’t let him live. He’d tell the police that he saw me bringing the cupcakes.”
“And so he had to die?”
She answered with a quick nod.
“What about Toby Wurlitzer?” I asked. “In Delilah’s apartment?”
“Toby?” Her voice sounded fragile and distant, as if she didn’t understand the question.
“Is that the gun you used to shoot him?”
Her eyes drifted down to her hands. “I didn’t shoot anybody,” she said. “That was Jake. I got this gun from somebody at a bar.”
“And you’re saying that Jake Breen shot Toby?”
“Of course, Jake Breen. He and Toby were in Delilah’s apartment arguing about money when I snuck in to return the stupid hat and coat. Jake got so mad. I’ve never seen him like that before.” She paused, taking one hand from the gun long enough to brush the tears from her eyes. “But when he told me to leave the apartment, I wasn’t going to argue. I was on the stairs when I heard the gunshot.”
“And you learned later that Toby had been found so you—”
“Yes!” She swallowed hard and pressed back against the seat. “Yes, I knew that Jake killed him. And I hoped that the police would think Jake was also responsible for the poisoned cupcakes.” She paused as more tears spilled from her eyes. “But then you came along…”
Her voice thinned to a whisper before she abandoned the thought. We sat together for a few minutes, the revolver in her hands, the string of muffled sobs filling the car. I kept my eyes on the street, trying to work out a solution to my predicament that didn’t involve gunfire. When Lois eventually turned to me and spoke, her voice was so soft that I had to ask her to repeat the question.
“How did you know it was me?” she said, sounding faint and crestfallen.
“Intuition and evidence,” I said. “I worked as a private investigator in Chicago for many years. You learn what to watch for and how to connect the dots that seem to be genuine clues. Then you use those to solve the puzzle.”
“Like what?” Lois said, pressing me on the issue. “Give me an example.”
“Like the green hair dye that you forgot to wash off your ear,” I said. “I noticed it the night that I met you at York Street. At first, it just seemed odd; but then I met Heidi a few minutes later and realized the little smudge on your ear was the same shade as her hair. It was also pretty close to the green splotches found on the white bakery box left outside Tim’s door. At that instant, I didn’t know if it meant anything. But it stuck in my mind like a speck of curiosity. I figured later that you colored your hair like Heidi and then used her hat and coat to make people think she delivered the cupcakes and snuck into Delmar Singer’s hospital room. You just happened to overlook the fact that you didn’t get it all off your ear or that some of the dye had smeared on the white box.”
She scoffed. “That doesn’t mean I killed anybody.”
“Not by itself, no,” I said. “But, as I said, it was part of the reason that I suspected you.”
The muscles in her jaw tightened. “Like, what else?” she demanded. “You seem so sure that I did it, but some stupid hair dye on my ear is hardly convincing evidence.”
I nodded. “I agree. But there were other clues. You used Heidi’s coat and hat to sneak into the hospital room, but you forgot about your shoes.” She looked down at the Chuck Taylors with the lightning bolts. “I saw them on the video footage from the hospital’s surveillance camera.”
Her eyes tapered into an enraged scowl. “Our whole drama club in high school had these shoes,” she rasped. “Not just me.” The grimace on her face dissolved into a sly smile. “What’s the big deal if I still wear mine and give them as gifts to a few people? That doesn’t prove your little theory, does it?”
“Not exactly. But as I kept talking to people and continued looking into the situation, I just got a hunch that you were involved.”
“A hunch?” she hissed angrily. “You had a hunch that I left the cupcakes?”
“Yes, that’s all—a simple hunch. But then I remembered seeing the package of Rowntree’s in Delilah’s apartment after Toby Wurlitzer was murdered. And a witness told me that you’re always eating them, so it was another clue, another bit of potential evidence.”
She sighed loudly. “But I already told you—Jake Breen shot Toby, not me.”
“Right,” I said softly. “And that’s up to the police to decide. But I saw the empty candy wrapper in Delilah’s apartment along with Toby’s body, so it suggested that there was a chance you’d been in the room.”
“What else?” she asked, slipping her finger onto the trigger.
I felt a lump twist in my throat as she lifted the revolver slowly.
“The article you wrote in college about Jean-Baptiste Dumas,” I answered. “That suggests that you were aware that acetonitrile is metabolized as cyanide after it’s consumed.”
The barrel of the gun glinted in the streetlight as Lois lifted it slowly.
“Why don’t you put that down?” I said. “If you go to the police now, they’ll take into consideration that you—
”
“No!” she screamed. “I’m not going to the police!”
Her voice thundered against the glass, echoing in the confined space as I sat and waited. I listened to her breathing—a rapid and frantic wheeze that eventually calmed to a series of short gasps. When it seemed like she’d regained her composure, I decided to forge ahead.
“What’s your plan, Lois?”
She shook her head, but didn’t say anything.
“I want to help you,” I continued. “I know that may not make sense to you right now, but I really want to help you find a way out of this corner you’ve backed into.”
She said something that I couldn’t understand.
“What was that?”
“I wish that I was dead,” she whispered. “I’ve made such a mess of everything.”
Her finger slowly slipped from the trigger.
“All I wanted was for Tim to like me more than—”
Someone tapped on the glass beside Lois, but she was so engrossed in what she was telling me that she didn’t seem to notice.
“—every other girl,” she said, quietly finishing her thought. “I wanted the handsome, popular boy to pick me for once.”
The tap repeated, sharp and hard and insistent.
I kept my eyes on Lois as she suddenly realized the sound was coming from the car window. As she spun around in the seat, I leaned forward and saw Adam Caldwell on the sidewalk. He had his service revolver in one hand, his badge in the other and his gaze locked on Lois Jordan and the handgun in her lap.
CHAPTER 46
“Miss Jordan?” Caldwell said calmly. “Can you do something for me?”
Lois tightened her grip on the revolver.
“Can you put the gun on the floor between your feet?”
She shook her head.
“My name’s Adam,” Caldwell said, sliding the badge back onto his belt. “I’m a detective with the Denver Police Department.”
Her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. I’d seen it countless times before in Chicago; the accelerated breathing, wild eyes and gradually dissolving denial of someone unexpectedly ensnared.
“I don’t care who you are,” she said defiantly. “Go away!”
Caldwell’s eyes were fixed on Lois, unwavering and alert.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,” he said. “You need help, Lois. And I’m going to take you—”
She suddenly raised the gun and waved it in the air.
“Go away!” she yelled. “I have to figure this out by myself! It’s the way I’ve always done things!”
Caldwell’s eyes found mine and held long enough for a gentle nod before returning to Lois. I slowly turned my head just enough to see a group of uniformed officers in vests moving through the shadows on the far side of the street.
“Listen,” Caldwell said. “I’m not leaving. I want to help you.”
Her shoulders began to quiver as a fresh wave of sobs filled the car.
“Please,” she said, gasping and leaning forward in the seat. “Just leave me alone.”
“It’s too late for that,” said Caldwell. “But we can work this out, Lois. Just put down the gun and let me see your hands, okay?”
There was no response. She simply held her position, the weapon gripped in her fingers as she continued crying.
“Lois?”
Her shoulders stiffened.
“I didn’t come alone,” Caldwell said.
The sobs quieted into a subdued whimper.
“There are several uniformed officers here with me,” he continued. “They’re going to help get you to a safe place, okay?”
She slowly turned toward me. “What does he mean—a safe place?”
“Somewhere that you can get help,” I answered.
Her mouth formed a perfect circle as enormous tears streamed down her face. “I’m so tired,” she said. “I haven’t slept since…” As she slumped forward, her head pressed against the dashboard and the gun tumbled into the darkness between her feet. “I just want to go home,” she sobbed. “I want to go home.”
I nodded at Caldwell and he opened the door. Lois shuddered at the motion and reached for the revolver, but he’d already scooped it up and out of the car. She struggled for a moment as he circled her wrist with his hand, but then went limp against the back of the seat.
“Let’s get out slowly,” Caldwell said. “Turn and face me and then drop your feet onto the sidewalk.”
Before she followed his instructions, she suddenly spun around and glared at me. “You can’t prove anything,” she snapped. “Nobody can prove I did anything.”
I held up my phone as the uniformed officers surrounded the car. “It’s all right here,” I said. “I recorded our conversation.”
The news stopped her briefly before she began struggling again. “No!” she shrieked. “You’re lying! I didn’t do anything!”
Caldwell stepped back and two officers eased Lois out of her car and into a patrol cruiser. As they worked to move her carefully, Caldwell checked the safety on the revolver, dropped it into a plastic evidence bag and then deposited the weapon in the trunk of a sedan parked across the street.
“How did you know it was with Lois?” I asked when he came over to where I was standing on the sidewalk.
“Wisdom and insight,” he said, tapping his forehead.
“No, seriously. How’d you know?”
He repeated the tapping gesture. “My little grey cells can pull off some pretty amazing things when they want to dazzle the ladies.”
I didn’t crack a smile. And I didn’t say a word. I kept my eyes fixed on his, lifting one eyebrow slightly. We stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, before Caldwell cracked under the pressure.
“Oh, give me a break, Kate!” he groaned finally. “Hannah Zimmer told me that you left Roostercat with her roommate. I’d gone there after Heidi told me where I could find her sister.”
“Great minds think alike,” I said.
His laugh was warm and genuine. “Apparently. Although I’d be a complete tool if I didn’t confess that your call earlier spurred me to stop by the coffee shop.”
“Just to see if I was okay?”
The chirp of his phone interrupted the moment. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen and declined the call.
“Yeah,” he said. “I wanted to see if you needed backup.”
“Okay, but how’d you know that we’d be in her car?”
“I didn’t. But it was a lucky guess, wasn’t it?”
“No doubt,” I said. “Lucky and very much appreciated.”
“Did Hannah help with your lucky guess?”
He smiled. “Hannah told me that she and Lois came here together,” he explained. “I asked where the car was parked when she told me about you leaving with her roommate.”
“So it was one part lucky guess,” I said, smiling, “and one part witness cooperation?”
He ignored the remark and held out his hand. “I’m going to need to copy the recording from your phone,” he said. “If you really did get all of her confession.”
“I did, but that probably won’t be admissible.”
He shrugged. “I was thinking it would be handy for me to hear before she and I sit down to talk. I can make a copy and get it right back to you.”
“Sounds good,” I said, giving him the phone. “And lucky for you that my little grey cells remembered the recording app that’s on there.”
He pocketed the phone and asked if I wanted to drive myself to the station or go with him.
“I’ll ride with you,” I said. “All of that left my nerves a little rattled.”
“I can’t blame you, Kate. You were impressive in there, talking to Lois and keeping her calm.”
I shrugged. “I’ve had plenty of practice,” I said. “Between my work in Chicago and dealing with grouchy customers at Sky High Pies, I can usually get somebody to relax enough so they can tell me what’s really going on.”
&nbs
p; He smiled. “Oh, yeah? What’s your theory about Lois Jordan?”
“First impression?”
He nodded.
“Well, I’d say she was jealous of the Zimmer twins,” I said. “And Delilah Benson.”
“Because of Tim England?”
It was my turn to smile. “He’s a handsome guy,” I answered. “He’s in an up-and-coming band. Lots of women want a piece of him. And even though it’d be easy to sample what’s been served up, he’s got an old-fashioned heart. He’s loyal to Delilah—for better or worse, for richer or poorer, through whatever comes along. From what I can tell, they’re both really dedicated to building a life together.”
I followed him over to his sedan and climbed into the passenger seat as he held the door.
“Thank you, detective,” I said after he slid behind the wheel. “It’s refreshing to see that chivalry is not dead.”
He laughed. “It may be on life support in certain circles,” Caldwell said, “but here in my neck of the woods, it is very much alive and well.”
CHAPTER 47
I was wide awake and staring at the ceiling when the alarm went off the next morning. After listening to Adam Caldwell interrogate Lois Jordan for two hours at the police station the night before, I’d decided it was time to hit the road and drive home. It had been an especially hectic few days—juggling my Sky High responsibilities with repeated trips between Crescent Creek and Denver—so I figured that getting some sleep was more important than listening to Lois profess her innocence and undying devotion for my neighbor’s brother. I slept fitfully, dreaming about giant Rowntree’s Jelly Tots chasing me through smoky meeting rooms at York Street Club, which explained why my eyes were glued to the ceiling when the alarm chirped.
I rolled over in bed and glared at the clock. “How can it be four-thirty already?” I moaned. “It feels like I just got into bed.”
When my question went unanswered and my mind began to tick down the list of things I needed to do that day, I reluctantly tossed back the covers, rolled to a sitting position and dropped my legs over the edge of the mattress.