“Say what?” Karen faced Candy. “Don’t tell me Bryce and Old Man Harrison know you’re back?”
“It’s a small building,” Candy reminded her and took two more Oreos. “They saw me.”
Karen groaned. “Not good, Kiddo.”
“Don’t worry,” Candy said. “Mr. Harrison never talks to anyone.”
“And Bryce promised me he’d keep quiet, too,” I added.
Karen slapped her forehead. “You guys! You can’t pay Bryce Dixon to keep a secret. He blabs to everyone over there.” She waved haphazardly in the direction of The Stone Fountain and I had to admit she had a point.
Candy, however, didn’t seem at all concerned. She grabbed another cookie and mumbled something about the icky jail food. I, too, ate a cookie and drank my milk. It wasn’t the most nutritious dinner I’ve ever had, but it was convenient.
“Umm, Karen?” I said eventually. “Did you happen to know Peter Harrison when you were in school?”
“Say what?”
Just my luck, Candy stopped eating and explained. “Jessie’s been learning all about everyone’s past on the Clarence Courier web site,” she said. “Wasn’t that smart of her?”
Karen folded her arms and glared. “Say what?”
“Umm,” I answered brilliantly as she continued frowning. I took a deep breath. “I’m getting desperate to figure things out, so I did a little research. I’m not proud of it, okay? And I hope you’ll forgive me for being so nosey, but—”
“Are you going to tell me what you found out or not?” Karen interrupted.
“Well, if you insist,” I said and gave her the gist of it. “Peter Harrison’s stellar teaching career at Clarence Central High was news to me,” I concluded. “Sweetie here says she was never in the band. But I thought maybe you were?”
“I was.”
“What?” Candy and I spoke in unison. Do not ask me why we found this revelation so fascinating.
“What was Mr. Harrison like back then?” Candy asked. “He wasn’t nearly as mean as he is now?”
“Why didn’t we know about this before?” I asked. “You’ve never mentioned it, have you? What instrument did you play?”
Karen held up her hands to stop the onslaught of questions. “I played the clarinet, if you must know. And yes, Kiddo, Old Man Harrison wasn’t mean at all back then.” She turned to me. “And I’m sorry, but I didn’t realize being in my high school marching band twenty years ago was all that noteworthy. You want we should discuss my old locker combination next?”
I mumbled that probably wouldn’t be necessary and stood up to leave.
Karen got up also. “If Jimmy Beak starts bugging you, call me,” she told Candy. “I’ll run up here with my electric drill a-buzzing. That should scare anyone away.”
***
Snowflake was sleeping on top of my computer when I arrived home. She opened one eye and glared, and I had to admit I had neglected Temptation at Twilight far too long. I shooed her to the windowsill and sat down to see how Rolfe and Alexis were faring without me.
Ever-resourceful, Rolfe Vanderhorn was busy re-shoeing his horse and planning his next dare-devil rescue of Alexis Wynsome. Meanwhile, our hapless heroine, now at the mercy of the evil Lord Derwin Snipe, sat fretting away in Derwin’s dungeon, a space even more miserable and damp than his brother’s turret.
But, lo and behold, when Derwin’s maid came down the steep and treacherous staircase to bring her a cup of water and a stale crust of bread, Alexis recognized an old friend from childhood! Why, it was none other than Annabelle Goodloe!
An exciting moment, indeed, but I yawned and left Alexis and Annabelle to catch up on old times while I checked my e-mail.
A message from Roslynn Mayweather made me groan out loud. I braced myself and opened her attachment. “Lush and Tender by Roslynn Mayweather,” I read on the title page. At least the woman had a good romance author-sounding name.
Roslynn the Romance Writer also had some talent. In fact, I was well into Chapter Four before I even noticed that the Channel 15 News vans had returned to Sullivan Street. They were parked in front of The Stone Fountain, but of course.
“Cross your fingers Bryce can keep quiet about Candy,” I told Snowflake as I closed my computer.
I did twenty minutes on my exercise bike, took a very hot and extended bath, and crawled into bed.
But just as I was about to doze off, Captain Rye’s ominous warning flashed through my mind. “If Candy Poppe isn’t the killer,” he had said, “someone you know and trust is.”
“At least that rules out Jimmy Beak,” I mumbled into the dark.
Chapter 23
Energized by a full hour of yoga, and armed with a full cup of coffee, I was at my desk by six a.m., working my way toward the exciting and unexpected conclusion of Temptation at Twilight. Indeed, the conclusion was so unexpected, even Adelé Nightingale didn’t know what it might entail.
Rolfe Vanderhorn spent an exasperating morning trying to learn the layout of Derwin Snipe’s castle. He spoke to the groundskeeper, the game warden, and the gardener. Although all three men were eager to help out, none of them had ever set foot inside the castle, and thus were no help whatsoever. And when Rolfe scanned the perimeter of the castle, he found nary a trace of a white hanky or anything else that might indicate where Alexis was being held.
Duly chagrined, he returned to his cottage to plan some more, little knowing that at that very moment, Alexis was enjoying an elaborate repast of roast pheasant with all the fixings which Annabelle Goodloe had sneaked down to Derwin’s dungeon. The clever and resourceful maid also smuggled in some cushions and blankets. She plopped her ample self down on a pillow next to Alexis and reported what she had learned while eavesdropping on her employer.
The previous evening Alexis had explained her unfortunate plight to Annabelle, and the two women debated why oh why the Snipe brothers had taken such profound interest in her. After all, Alexis told Annabelle, she had nothing to offer these men that other women didn’t have. Annabelle took a not so subtle gander at the more than ample bosom of her friend, but Alexis insisted there must exist some other, more substantial reason to explain the Snipes’ behavior.
Annabelle had vowed to learn the truth before the cock crowed, and sure enough, she succeeded. It seems that Alexis, who believed herself to be an orphan, was in reality the long lost daughter of the king! How King Percival had managed to lose his baby girl twenty years earlier was a long story which Annabelle chose not to relate. And how the Snipe brothers had managed to learn the true identity of Alexis Wynsome also remained a mystery. But once they figured it out, the evil duo devised their dastardly plans to kidnap the lovely lady.
Annebelle warned her friend of the brothers’ evil intentions. For that very day they planned on flipping a coin to determine which of them would marry Alexis, and hence, which of them would someday inherit King Percival’s entire realm! Annabelle expected Alexis to be upset at the idea of a forced marriage to one of the vile Snipe brothers, but Alexis only smiled serenely.
“Rolfe will make a fine king someday,” she mused.
***
Alexis may have been certain of the future, but I had no idea what twists my plot would take before it arrived at its inevitably happy ending. And Snowflake was insisting on lunch. I fed her, and myself, and went for a walk.
Between thinking about Candy Poppe and her problems, and Alexis Wynsome and hers, I walked up and down the streets of downtown Clarence, barely noticing where I was going. I had found my way back home, and was in the lobby sorting through my mail when Peter Harrison poked his head out of his door. He held his position and stared at me until I had to look up.
“May I interest you in some iced tea?” he asked, and I dropped my mail.
Not the most gracious response, but I hurriedly accepted his invitation, collected the papers I had dropped, and crossed the threshold into Peter Harrison’s home. It may have been the most surrealistic moment of my week.
“This is a grand piano, isn’t it?” I asked.
“A baby grand, yes. Do you take sweet tea?”
I looked up. “Whatever you’re having, Mr. Harrison. Thank you.”
He told me to call him Peter, and when I dropped my mail again, I do believe the man actually giggled. He invited me to take a seat, and this time I obeyed, settling myself and my stupid mail on the couch while he went to retrieve our beverages.
“You say you’ve never played, Miss Hewitt?” Mr. Harrison tilted his head toward the piano as he came back into the room.
“It’s Jessie,” I said. “And, no. I have no musical talent.”
“Oh, I doubt that.” He set the iced tea on front of me and sat down. “Just look at those hands.” He pointed to my hands, and I looked at them as if they were brand new.
“You have very long fingers,” he explained. “Perfect for the piano. You could reach more than an octave without even trying.” He leaned forward. “May I?”
I blinked twice as Peter Harrison gently grasped my right hand and stretched it wide open.
“You see!” He peeked at me from between my outstretched fingers. “An octave and one. No doubt about it!”
Okay, so maybe this qualified as the most surrealistic moment of my week.
“Are you feeling well, Mr. Harrison?”
“Peter,” he reminded me and let go of my hand. “And yes, actually. I’m feeling better than I have in years.” He threw his own hands into the air and laughed out loud. “Fit as a fiddle, Jessie!”
I blinked again.
“Oh, dear,” he said and calmed himself down a bit. “Have I really been behaving that badly?”
“Umm, you do seem to be in a better mood than usual.”
“It was all the medication!” he exclaimed. And with that my new and improved neighbor offered an extensive list of this, that, and the other prescription drug in his former pill-popping regimen. Trust me, I did not take notes, but I did stay alert for the word Phenobarbital. It never came up.
“I’ve gone cold turkey,” he said proudly. “On four of them, anyway. And Doctor Trotter—he’s my new physician—has cut my dosage of all the rest in half!” Peter clapped his hands. “He told me I was poisoning myself. Can you imagine?”
I think I could. My neighbor’s personality had apparently transformed overnight.
“But enough about me,” he said. “I wanted to ask after Ms. Poppe.”
I cleared my throat. “Oh?”
“I was so relieved when I saw you two in the lobby yesterday, Jessie. I assumed the Clarence Courier had been wrong after all. But then I watched Jimmy Beak.” Peter waited until I would look at him. “May I ask what’s going on?”
He cocked his head and smiled, and I had to think fast. Was all this newfound friendliness just an act to trick me? Was the old man some sort of spy for Jimmy Beak?
“Candy’s been released on bail,” I admitted, since he already knew she was home. “But apparently the media have not been informed. We’re hoping to keep it that way, Peter.”
“Oh, absolutely. Whatever Jimmy Beak insists, the public does not need to know.” He sighed dramatically. “I’ve often worried her past transgressions would come back to haunt her.”
I sat up straight. Of course Peter Harrison would know about Candy’s sordid high school career!
“Has Ms. Poppe ever mentioned I worked at her high school?” he asked, and I nodded mutely. “She was a little hellion back then. But I’ve always believed in giving young people a second chance.”
I studied my neighbor. “So you rented her an apartment?” I pointed at his ceiling and towards Candy’s place. “Even though—” I stopped myself.
“Even though I was in such an unpleasant mood?” he helped me out. “I may have been cranky, but I still had my principles. Candy Poppe deserved the benefit of the doubt.”
“She still does,” I said. “She’s innocent.”
“Oh, absolutely. I’m counting on you to keep me posted, Jessie. Will you do that?”
I offered the vaguest of nods and changed the subject. “I understand Karen Sembler is one of your former students?”
“Now there was musical talent!”
“Excuse me?”
“Miss Sembler!” He clapped his hands gleefully. “She played clarinet, she sang, she danced. Oh, my!”
Oh my, indeed. Karen Sembler singing? And dancing?
“She has a lovely soprano voice,” Peter continued. “It was such a shame, really.”
“A shame?” I prompted.
But bless his heart, the new, downright chatty Peter Harrison needed no prompting as he delved on in to Karen’s ancient history. It seems she had auditioned for the lead in her senior class play, but had not gotten the part.
“We did The Sound of Music that year,” he said. “Karen Sembler should have been our Maria. She knew it, too.”
“Why wasn’t she?”
“She auditioned perfectly. I was there, of course, being the band director.” He sighed dramatically. “But I wasn’t in charge of casting. And the lady who was? Well, she insisted Maria should be beautiful.”
My face dropped. “And Karen wasn’t.”
Peter nodded. “She was offered only a minor part—one of the children, if I recall. She quit after that.”
“Karen’s a high school drop out?”
“Oh, no, no, no,” he hastened to correct me. “She dropped out of the band, though. And chorus.”
I shook my head in dismay. “You are a font of information, sir.”
“Do forgive my gossiping, Jessie? I suppose I’ve been so unfriendly for so long—”
“You’re making up for lost time,” I helped him out. “Fine with me.” We giggled in unison as I got up to leave.
“Have you ever spoken to Karen about what happened?” I asked at the doorway.
“We never have discussed old times. I suppose my cranky mood hasn’t encouraged confidences.” He glanced across the lobby at her door, behind which who knows what power tool was humming along. “But I’m sure Miss Sembler has moved on,” he added. “After all, it was twenty years ago.”
***
Twenty years ago, I reminded myself as I climbed the stairs to Candy’s. I reached out to knock on her door. “It has nothing to do with Stanley,” I said firmly.
“What has nothing to do with Stanley?” Candy asked.
I swear she had answered before I even knocked. I took in the figure—and I do mean figure—before me. Candy stood in her doorway, resplendent in a pink sequined mini dress.
“You haven’t been out, have you?” I pointed to the silver stilettos adorning her feet.
She gave her shoes a brief glance. “Gosh, no” she said. “But I’m going stir crazy sitting around and hiding all day, so I got dressed up to make me feel better.”
She waved me inside and tottered over to her ridiculous pink couch, which provided a perfect backdrop for her outfit. I shook my head and took a seat.
“Can’t we please go out tonight?” Candy was saying. “Pretty please. Just over to The Stone Fountain, okay? Just for a few minutes?” She held her palms together, appealing to me.
“Jimmy Beak was over there last night.”
“Yeah, but I bet he’ll be somewhere else tonight. He gets bored just working on one story.”
“No,” I said in no uncertain terms.
“I feel like I’m in jail all over again,” she whined.
I folded my arms and glared.
“It’s Friday night and everything,” she tried.
I kept glaring.
“I’ll go alone, then,” she said and gav
e her head a defiant toss. “Or I’ll get Karen to go with me. Someone has to figure out who killed Stanley. You’ve said so yourself, Jessie. Lots of times.”
Okay, so the girl did have a point. I gave up on glaring and noticed the triumphant smile on Candy’s face.
“If we are actually going to do this,” I said, “I am going to need some Advil.
Candy bounded off the couch and scurried to the phone. “I’ll tell Karen eight o’clock, okay?”
“Lots and lots of Advil,” I muttered.
“Don’t worry, Jessie.” She tapped out Karen’s number with a silver fingernail. “If Jimmy Beak shows up, we can always hide under the pool table. Just like last time!”
***
“Number two!” Louise Urko screeched from her end of the line, and I lamented not getting that Advil from Candy. “Blockbuster, Babe! Windswept Whispers is selling like hot cakes. Hotter than hot!”
“Speaking of hot, I have something for you.”
“Fantastical! Please tell me you have finally, finally, finished Temptation at Twilight?”
“Almost,” I answered. “Once I get a few details ironed out about King Percival’s past—”
“I thought his name was Ralph?”
“Ralph?” I scowled at Snowflake and attempted to think like Geez Louise. Ah, yes. “You mean Rolfe,” I told her. “He’s the hero, but King Percival’s the father. It seems he’s been harboring some deep, dark secrets for the last twenty years. One of which is his long lost daughter, Alexis Wynsome—”
“What-everrrr,” Louis interrupted. “I know you’ll come up with something fantastical, Jessica. Just be sure there’s plenty of sex scenes. Sex, sex, sex!”
I rolled my eyes and assured my agent I would e-mail her the completed manuscript, replete with assorted sex scenes, sometime the following week.
“While I’m at it, I’d like to send along someone else’s work.” I told Louise about Roslynn Mayweather and Lush and Tender. “Roslynn has great potential.” I smiled to myself. “And I think the two of you will really hit it off.”
“Well then, by all means send me Lush and Tender! You know I’m always on the lookout for fresh talent.”
I tolerated a few further fantasticals before I reminded Louise it was Friday night and she shouldn’t still be at the office.
Playing With Poison Page 19