by Marie Celine
‘You don’t?’ said Fran.
‘No, I don’t,’ Nickels said forcefully. ‘He came in to fill his allergy prescription.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ll tell you one thing, that guy sure is a talker.’ He pointed a crooked finger at Kitty. ‘Almost as bad as you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Asking a million questions. Wanting to know about Victor Cornwall’s murder, what the autopsy might have shown, if we had any leads.’ Nickels snorted. ‘Like it’s any of his business.’ He leaned toward Kitty once more. ‘Like it isn’t any business of yours.’
Kitty tried another tack. ‘I notice you carry peanut oil.’
‘So?’ His eyebrows folded up as one.
Kitty said nothing, watching his face to see what he might give away.
‘Oh,’ he said finally, drawing the word out. ‘You mean Eliza Cornwall.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘If I wanted to poison somebody I’ve got my choice of a lot better stuff than peanut oil.’ He waved his arms in the direction of the stacked bins of prescription medications behind him.
He had a point. She imagined the pharmacist had a near infinite supply of poisons at hand. What was to say that he hadn’t poisoned Victor Cornwall with one of them before strangling him for good measure? The police never had released the results of Victor’s autopsy. ‘Were there any traces of poison in Eliza’s husband’s body?’
Nickels snatched Kitty’s prescription off the counter and spun around. ‘It won’t be ready for twenty minutes!’
‘But I—’
‘Thirty if you keep bugging me!’
‘Come on, Fran,’ Kitty said, pulling her friend away. They obviously weren’t going to get any further with Deputy Nickels at the moment. ‘I want to see a man about some flowers.’
‘Huh?’
‘Never mind. Follow me.’
They dodged traffic and pushed into the Alpine 4U Card and Gift Shoppe. A tiny bronze bell attached to the inside of the door handle announced their entrance.
‘Welcome to Alpine 4U.’ A svelte forty-something woman in a flowing dress ablaze with cerise and cream peonies greeted them. She stood behind a small glass counter. Her right hand held a tape dispenser. An unwrapped package, a pair of scissors and a roll of wrapping paper lay to one side. A similarly aged man in rumpled jeans and a red and black checked flannel shirt sat in a wood rocking chair behind the counter, his nose in a book. ‘Can I help you with something?’
‘Just browsing,’ said Fran. She spun a rack of postcards near the entrance.
‘Let me know if I can help.’ The woman pulled out a length of silver paper, picked up her red-handled scissors and carefully cut. Her dirty blonde hair was swept up atop her head, bound together with a black silk ribbon.
‘Actually …’ said Kitty, approaching the counter.
‘Yes?’ The woman smoothed the gift wrap with the side of her palm and looked up.
‘A friend of mine bought some flowers from you today. A Mr Jameson?’ Kitty raised an eyebrow.
‘I remember him.’ The woman smiled at her husband. ‘He ordered the roses. He said he had a friend in the hospital.’
‘That’s right.’ Kitty laid her hands on the counter. ‘They were beautiful. Your whole shop is wonderful.’ Kitty sighed. ‘I love flowers.’
The woman grinned some more. ‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Care to buy some?’ muttered the man in the rocker.
‘Oscar.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t mind my husband. ‘He’s not much of a people person. But he’s great with his hands.’
‘I understand,’ said Kitty. ‘I was thinking of ordering some flowers also. For the same friend.’
‘Did you have something particular in mind?’ The woman came out from behind the counter.
Kitty scanned the flower and gift shop. She studied the vases in the refrigerated glass box along the wall and pointed. ‘Those look nice.’
The woman slid open the glass door and held her hand in front of a vase. ‘These?’
Kitty nodded.
Fran slithered up beside her and muttered, ‘What are you doing, girl?’
Kitty told her to shush. ‘I’ll take them.’
The shopkeeper slid the arrangement out and closed the door. ‘A very nice choice.’ Her hands picked lovingly at the flowers. ‘Orange Asiatic lilies, fuchsia carnations, red Peruvian lilies, lavender chrysanthemums and lush greens.’ The woman took Kitty’s selection to the counter. ‘Will you be delivering them yourself?’
Kitty leaned forward and sniffed. The flowers were arranged in a clear glass bubble vase and smelled divine. She had no doubt that Eliza would like them. She also had no doubt that Eliza would not be happy to see her and Fran show up again anytime soon. ‘Do you deliver?’
‘Of course. Since they’re going to the same person as Mr Jameson’s order, I have all the info I need.’ She pushed a small tray of cards and envelopes toward Kitty. ‘All you have to do is fill out a card.’
Kitty picked up the proffered pen and hesitated over a simple Get Well Soon message card. ‘Actually, I’d hate to give the same card that my friend John gave.’
The woman smiled and tapped another card a couple rows over. ‘He picked that one, if I remember correctly.’ She tapped the side of her skull. ‘And I always do.’
Jameson had selected a card whose cover bore a teddy bear clutching a red heart. ‘Cute,’ said Kitty. She hesitated with the pen yet again. ‘It’s always so difficult knowing what to say.’
‘I suppose,’ the woman said. ‘Say what comes natural.’
‘What did Mr Jameson, I mean, John, write?’
The shopkeeper looked taken aback. ‘I wouldn’t know. He filled it in himself.’ She folded her arms across her chest. ‘My husband and I aren’t in the habit of reading people’s private notes to their recipients.’
Uh-oh. Kitty could see she was losing the woman. ‘I didn’t mean anything like that.’ She scribbled quickly. ‘I’ll tell her I hope she gets better soon.’ She turned the pen toward Fran. ‘Did you want to add something, Fran?’
Fran snorted. ‘I can think of a word or two.’
Kitty took that for a no. She glanced up at the woman then stuffed the message in the tiny envelope she’d been given. The florist took the envelope and placed it carefully within the bouquet.
Kitty concealed her shock as the woman rung up her purchase. This little detour into Alpine 4U had turned out to be a dead end. A very expensive dead end. Her credit card was going to be as bruised as her tailbone.
The door tinkled.
‘Hello, Harry.’
‘Hello, Mindy. Hi, Oscar.’ The man reading a book waved though his eyes never left the page.
Kitty turned. Fran was looking miserable.
Beside her stood Chief Mulisch.
THIRTY-TWO
‘I’ve been looking for you two.’
‘What happened?’ said Fran, putting a low display of gardening tools between herself and the chief. ‘Did Deputy Nickels call you? Did he go crying to you about us being in his pharmacy?’
Chief Mulisch appeared puzzled. ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ he said, turning to Kitty, ‘because I heard about your little mishap out on the Matterhorn Trail. I was hoping to catch you at the medical center. I specifically asked the doctor to keep you until I’d had a chance to speak with you and take your statement.’
The chief explained how he’d just come from the Little Switzerland Medical Center. ‘They told me you’d left in the resort’s van.’ He jabbed his thumb at the window. ‘That’s it, right there. In front of that fire hydrant,’ he added rather pointedly.
Kitty’s breath caught in her throat. Fran shut her eyes and muttered something unintelligible under her breath.
‘I’d move it soon if I were you.’
Fran promised she would.
Kitty and Fran threw emergency signals at one another, all useless. Wasn’t there some sort of Morse code-like class that one could take, learn how to do dots and dashes w
ith one’s eyelids? How great would that be? She’d sign herself and Fran up for that course.
‘Doctor Peter did mention you would want to speak with me.’ The doctor had asked Kitty to stick around until the chief showed up but she had really wanted to leave. Besides, if the police wanted to find her, they knew where she was staying. ‘I know I should have waited. It’s not the doctor’s fault I didn’t, it’s mine,’ explained Kitty. ‘I’m not a fan of hospitals. Besides, I wanted to get my prescription filled.’ She shoved her credit card back in her wallet. ‘That’s why we went to the pharmacy.’
‘Hmmm.’ Chief Mulisch seemed to be mulling her words over. ‘So you weren’t over there trying to worm information about an ongoing murder investigation from one of my deputies?’
‘Of course not,’ Kitty said quickly. Too quickly. It didn’t help that she was blushing. ‘Merely filling a prescription.’ She made a point of looking at her watch. ‘As a matter of fact, it should be ready about now. If you’ll excuse us—’
Chief Mulisch stuck his arm out. ‘Not so fast.’
Kitty and Fran looked at one another. There was little else they could do. Already, here was a perfect example of how that Morse code eyelash batting class could have come in handy. ‘Yes?’ Kitty said after a moment’s hesitation.
‘I’m going to need that statement.’
‘But my prescription—’ Kitty began.
‘Your prescription can wait a couple of minutes. Come on.’ He held open the door. Tinkle tinkle. ‘There’s a coffee shop two doors down.’
They followed the chief to the Petit Suisse Bakery Café. He ordered three large coffees from the girl behind the counter who looked like she belonged on the side of a jar of Swiss cocoa. ‘You want anything else?’
Kitty’s stomach was screaming. She ordered a raspberry-filled cruller. Fran never said no to pastry. She ordered an éclair. The chief fished a fat leather wallet out of his back pocket and paid. Neither woman argued the matter.
Kitty slid into the green booth at the window and Fran joined her. Chief Mulisch sat across the table, his hands playing some unfamiliar tune on the tabletop. The coffee came in thick orange ceramic mugs. Kitty laced her fingers around her cup, soaking in the warmth. She could feel herself beginning to slip away. It hadn’t been a long day but it had been an arduous one.
A man and woman with a small child in a highchair were the only others present. The man wore one of those green felt Tyrolean hats Kitty had seen in several of the shop windows. It looked brand new. More Austrian than Swiss, Kitty believed, but the tourists didn’t seem to know the difference. A yellow-and-black feather stuck out the back of its corded hatband.
The woman’s matching hat rested atop her purse on the table. The toddler’s tot-sized version was covered in pink cupcake frosting, which the woman was vigorously trying to scrub out by repeatedly dipping her paper napkin into her water glass, wiping then starting the process over again.
Kitty winked at the toddler as she broke her cruller in two. Raspberry filling oozed out slowly onto her plate and she licked it up with her finger. Yummy, not too sweet and just the right amount of tartness. The crust was golden and flaky. She took a big bite. No point being dainty. Who was she trying to impress? No one at this table.
‘If this is so important why didn’t you come down to the medical center?’ Fran began. ‘Kitty could have been killed out there. Or don’t you care?’
Kitty held her breath. Chief Mulisch raised his cup to his lips, blew across the surface of his coffee then set it down. He hadn’t ordered any pastry but he had added four sugar packets to his coffee. That would give him a pretty good sugar buzz all on its own.
‘I was out of town, if you must know, Ms Earhart. Investigating leads into the murder of Victor Cornwall.’ He turned the full weight of his gaze on Fran. ‘You do remember Mr Cornwall, don’t you, Ms Earhart? After all, you were the last person to see him alive.’
‘I didn’t kill anybody. You know yourself that there are lots of people who might have wanted to see Victor Cornwall dead – people he bilked, the man whose wife he stole … and who knows who else?’
‘Yeah, but like I said,’ Chief Mulisch picked up a stainless-steel spoon and rubbed the bowl with his thumb, ‘you were the last person to see him alive.’
Fran fidgeted in her seat and took a big hunk out of her éclair. Her jaws worked up and down as she chewed hard. She swallowed and gulped down her coffee.
‘Purportedly,’ Kitty added in Fran’s defense. ‘What about Bobby Bridges?’
The chief laughed. ‘What about him? You want me to see if I can get you his autograph?’
‘No,’ said Kitty. ‘I heard he got into an altercation with Victor Cornwall several days before Victor was murdered.’
‘Oh,’ drawled Chief Mulisch, waving his hand at her. ‘That was nothing. I mean, he clocked him pretty good.’ He chuckled. ‘But Victor didn’t want to press charges. Bobby’s a bit of a hothead. He told me all about it. It seems Cornwall conned him and his wife, Traci, out of a few million bucks in a phony real-estate deal down in Costa Rica.’ Chief Mulisch stopped and raised his cup to his lips. He licked his lips then continued, ‘When Bobby ran into Victor here, the discussion turned heated. Bobby admits he punched him.’
‘You say Victor conned Bobby and Traci out of millions. Don’t you think that’s motive for murder?’
‘Probably chump change to a couple of big celebs like those two. Besides,’ said the chief with a twinkle in his eye, ‘Bobby and Traci both have alibis for the time of death.’
‘Such as?’ Kitty asked.
‘They were having dinner in town, at Café St-Pierre. There were dozens of witnesses.’
‘He or she,’ Kitty added rather pointedly – after all, maybe Traci Nelson had done the deed herself – ‘might have sneaked out.’
‘I expect that’s pretty hard to do when your face is as well-known as those two.’
‘But not impossible.’ Kitty wasn’t about to let go. After all, somebody had killed Victor Cornwall and it had not been Fran.
The chief shrugged. ‘Tell me what happened up in the mountains, Ms Karlyle.’
Kitty took a breath and explained to the chief how she’d heard about the trails and decided to take a hike up one of them with her dog in her free time. ‘It was Mr Atchison who told me about them.’
‘So he knew you were going to be up there?’
‘Not exactly, no. Like I said, he told me about them in passing and suggested I might enjoy them, but I never told him I was going or when. I never told anyone. It wasn’t until I was at the edge of the property and the manager—’
‘Ruggiero?’
‘Yes, that’s right. He told me a little about each trail and suggested I might try the Matterhorn.’
‘I see.’
What did he see? Did he think Rick Ruggiero might have set her up? Could he have been the one who’d pushed her off the trail? ‘Do you think he might have pushed me?’ He had told her that was the hike he would take if it was him.
Chief Mulisch shook his head in the negative. ‘No. He was on the property the whole time.’
‘What makes you so sure?’ asked Fran. She pushed a few éclair crumbs around her spot at the table.
‘He was in a staff meeting with eight other people.’ He fixed his eyes on Fran. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘Where were you when your friend had her accident?’
‘It wasn’t an accident,’ Kitty said. ‘Somebody pushed me, Chief.’
‘Are you certain?’ he replied maddeningly. ‘Maybe you slipped, lost your balance, weren’t watching where you were going? Those trails can be treacherous. Accidents happen out there all the time. Busted legs, arms, you name it.’ He played with the small woven banana leaf basket on the table that held the diminished supply of sugar packets and artificial sweeteners. He wasn’t contemplating adding another, was he? ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘it was your dog.’
&nbs
p; Fran scoffed. ‘You think her dog pushed her? That’s a hoot.’
‘Fran—’ Kitty’s voice held a warning.
‘No, no.’ Fran shook her head. ‘What was I thinking? Hoots are for owls. That’s a woof, that’s what I meant to say.’
Kitty closed her eyes, waiting for the boom of the gunshot. But instead of death there were several moments of nearly as deadly silence.
Finally Chief Mulisch spoke. ‘No, I’m thinking dogs are playful. Maybe he jumped up on you when your back was turned, you know, all playful like and—’ He pantomimed her fall by walking his fingers to the edge of the table and then letting his hand plunge toward the ground. ‘Over you go.’ He looked back at Kitty. ‘Nobody’s fault at all.’
‘Except that it didn’t happen that way,’ Kitty argued. ‘I was pushed.’
‘Did you get a look at this reported assailant? Can you describe him or her?’
‘No, but I do remember seeing a hiking boot or shoe or something as I first started to go down.’
‘Is there anything specific that you recall about this so-called hiking boot or shoe? Was it a man’s boot? A woman’s? A child’s?’
‘It was brown.’
‘Great. Thanks for narrowing the suspects down for me.’
Kitty had to ask, ‘A child’s?’
‘There are plenty of kids out there on the trails, especially on mountain bikes this time of year.’ The chief had stuck his head under the table.
‘What are you doing down there?’ Fran demanded indignantly.
‘Seeing what kind of shoes you’re wearing.’
Kitty glanced down. Fran was wearing tan ankle-high boots.
‘You never did tell me where you were during Ms Karlyle’s near-death experience,’ Chief Mulisch said.
Kitty wondered if the chief was making fun of them now. She couldn’t believe that he could even consider that Fran might have been the one to push her. ‘You don’t have to answer him, Fran.’
‘I was shopping,’ Fran replied, ignoring Kitty’s advice. ‘Right here in town. I went to the Swiss Miss clothing store just up the street, then I went to that place with the watches and jewelry, Swiss Tinkers and Treasures, I think it’s called.’ She folded her arms in triumph. ‘After that, I went back to the resort. I was in Lily’s Boutique, which is located right there off the lobby, when I got the call from Steve – that’s our producer – that Kitty had been hurt and was in the hospital. Before you ask, Chief, yes, I have plenty of witnesses who can back me up. In fact, that security guard—’