“And how exactly do you know what came back in the initial autopsy report?” Marc questioned, but then sighed. “Never mind, I know.”
She crossed her eyes and poked her tongue out at him, then refocused on the keyboard. “Yes, here it is, the book I read. State of Fear by Michael Crichton. Look”—she pointed to the screen—“it’s about a terrorist that utilized the blue-ringed octopus’s deadly venom as a favored murder weapon.” Her fingers flashed over the keys, typing in “blue-ringed octopus.”
Marc leaned over her shoulder. “This I wouldn’t have been able to find on my own as I’ve never read the book.” He spun the laptop toward him and read. “They are recognized as one of the world’s most venomous marine animals. Although generally the size of a golf ball, they carry enough venom to kill twenty-six adult humans within minutes—”
“It’s so cute and look at those pretty colors.” Serena pointed at the screen. “How could it be so dangerous?”
Marc continued on reading as if not hearing her. “The venom can result in nausea, numbness of the mouth and tongue, paralysis, blurred vision, difficulty in speaking, blindness, respiratory arrest, heart failure, total paralysis, and can lead to death within minutes. No antivenom is available, making it one of the deadliest reef inhabitants in the ocean.” He spared his sister a glance. “Yeah, really cute, it would make the perfect pet, wouldn’t it?”
Addie rubbed her throat. “If this, or something like it, was the mysterious chemical in Teresa’s blood work, then the crime lab should have been able to figure that out. Toxic fish poisonings aren’t that rare. Surely in New York City they’d come across accidental poisonings in seafood restaurants from time to time?”
“You’d think, but it sounds like the holdup was because they were trying to narrow it down to exactly what kind of fish, but I’ll ask Simon more about that later. All I can tell from this”—he waved his hand at the screen—“is that blue-ringed octopuses, or none of the others for that matter, are found in this part of the world.”
Addie read farther down the page. “No, they’re not; it says here that they’re found in tide pools and coral reefs in the Pacific and Indian oceans from Japan to Australia.” She sat back and stared at the screen. “The question is. How did it get into Teresa’s food and blood samples?”
Chapter 22
“Has he gone?”
Serena snapped the blind closed. “Yup, just pulled out. What’s up with all the cloak-’n’-dagger surveillance?”
Addie’s fingers flew over her cell screen. “There, I’ve just let Paige know I’ll be late. You should probably tell Elli, too.”
“What? Where are we going?”
Addie tossed Serena her coat and dragged her out the door. “On an adventure.” She hopped into Serena’s Jeep. “I hope you don’t mind driving?”
“Looks like I don’t have a choice,” Serena mumbled, putting the vehicle in drive. She obeyed Addie’s orders until the House of Sushi came into view.
“Okay, just pull up here.” Addie pointed to the nearest parking spot to the restaurant. Through the side mirror she studied the hospital across the street.
“A sushi restaurant open for breakfast?” Serena shuddered. “Maybe they serve those one-hundred-year-old eggs or something.”
“I think those are Chinese cuisine.” Addie opened the door and was greeted by a smiling young woman. “Good morning.” Addie returned the smile. “Is Mr. Yamada here by chance?” The woman nodded and disappeared in the back room.
Colorful lanterns hung from the ceiling, and delicate, water-colored paintings covered the walls around the cozy room. Her eyes came to rest on a framed certificate above one of the seating booths. She moved closer and smiled. “Well, this answers one of my questions.”
“What’s that?” Serena came to her side.
“Mr. Yamada is a specially trained and certified fish cutter in the city of Shimonoseki, Japan.” She pointed. “That certificate is issued by the Japanese government.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Mr. Yamada knows his stuff and would never serve toxic fish to his customers. Not every fish cutter or chef can get this. It’s a very specialized training program.”
“So, I don’t have to worry about Zach eating here anymore?”
“No, you don’t.”
Mr. Yamada approached her. “Miss Greyborne”—he bowed from the waist—“my daughter said you wished to speak with me?”
“Good morning. Yes, if you have a few minutes, I have a couple of questions.”
“Of course, how may I be of help?”
Addie opened her mouth but then snapped it shut again, not sure where to begin.
Serena leaned across the counter and looked at the assorted sizes of food take-out containers. “Hey, I saw one of those on a table for the hospital charity auction, didn’t I? Yeah, and it had a gift certificate beside it.”
“Yes, I make a donation every year to Miss Lang’s charity.” He looked down reverently.
“Then you knew her?” Addie smile sympathetically.
“Yes, sad news about her. Very sad.”
“Was she a regular customer?”
“Yes, well, sometimes. Why?”
“I’m just wondering if she came in for lunch on the day of her accident.”
He shook his head.
Addie pulled her phone out of her pocket, flipped to her photos. “Do you remember if this woman came in?” She showed him the picture she’d taken of Crystal.
“No, I’ve never seen her, but Mr. Patrick was in that day. About once a week, he picked up their lunch.”
“Patrick? Are you sure it was the day of her accident?”
“Yes, I remember because he came in early that day.”
“What time was that?”
“Ten thirty, maybe, I remember it because we weren’t finished setting up for lunch, and then he wanted three orders to go, not the usual two.”
“And did he say anything about who the third meal was for?”
He shook his head. “I don’t ask. I just serve.”
“I understand.” She glanced behind her at the wall certificate. “I see you have the very coveted license for serving things like puffer fish.”
He grinned and nodded.
“Have you ever served it here?”
“No, too dangerous in America to find. Only one approved importer of puffer fish in New York and only two, maybe three times a year. Very expensive.”
“I see. What about blue-ringed octopus?”
“More dangerous. In Japan, some fish handlers on the docks die if they touch them when sorting. Very bad when they get caught in the nets or traps.”
“I wasn’t aware you couldn’t touch them, either. Well, thank you, Mr. Yamada, you’ve been a big help today.” She smiled and bowed her head in respect.
“Come back for lunch. Pretty ladies have to eat, too.” He grinned.
“We will,” she said, and flashed him a broad smile and waved. “Thanks again.” When they walked out, Addie asked, “Did you hear all that? Patrick bought three lunches that day. Who was the other one for? And why was there no sign of the take-out boxes in the office?”
“Whomever she had lunch with was tidy?” Serena shrugged and hopped in the driver’s seat.
“But not tidy enough to take out the lipstick-stained coffee cups, so that doesn’t make sense.” Addie jumped up and down in her seat. “I got it! It’s because one of the boxes had something in it that would have pointed to murder. The reason the cup with alcohol was left behind was to throw the investigation off—”
“And make everyone think Teresa was drinking and fell down the stairs.”
Addie grinned at her. “You catch on quick. That’s exactly what I’m thinking. Okay, now drive to the industrial Dumpsters behind the hospital.”
Serena’s mouth tightened. “I don’t think I like what you’re thinking anymore.”
“Come on, how bad can it be?”
* * *
>
“I’m not joining you in there.” Serena pulled up in front of the Dumpster and clutched the steering wheel. “No, nope, no way I’m climbing in one of those.”
“Chicken,” Addie scowled.
Serena tucked her hands into her armpits and flapped them. “Bak bak bak.”
“Well”—Addie hopped out—“at least give me a boost up.” She leaned her hand on Serena’s shoulder, stepped up on the front bumper, and peered over the edge of the trash bin. She gagged and jumped down, wiping her hands on her pants. “Yeah, not my best plan. Yuck.” She shuddered and eyed the back of the police station. “The police have hazmat suits just for this kind of thing.”
“Even with one of those on, there’s no way you’ll get me in there.”
Addie arched a sly brow. “I wasn’t thinking of us going in. Come on, let’s go talk to Marc.”
Serena slid her phone into her jean pocket. “I can’t. I just had a frantic text from Elli. Apparently, there are four customers in the store at the same time, and she’s run off her poor little feet.”
“Four whole customers, you say?”
“Did I mention her work ethic before?” Serena scowled at her phone screen, which lit up again.
“You go rescue her, and I’ll see you later. Thanks for everything. But don’t forget that I’ll need a ride home tonight, if you don’t mind?”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re going to be neighbors then, isn’t it?” Serena laughed and waved as she pulled away.
* * *
“Hi, Addie,” Carolyn greeted her when she skidded to a stop in front of her desk. Concern laced her question. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, why?”
“Simon called me last night and told me that you had a sudden change of plans for Christmas dinner and wouldn’t be able to make it.”
“Really?” Addie’s cheeks stung as if she’d been slapped. “He said that?”
“Yes.” Carolyn came around the desk. “I’ve been so worried that something happened. But if it’s Jonathan being here, he’s welcome, too.”
Addie struggled not to show the emotions waging war on her senses. “No, it’s not that.” She swallowed hard. “Something just came up, and I’m not sure I can—”
“Good, I’m just happy to hear that you’re okay.”
Addie forced herself to breathe. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks.” Her smile hurt her face. She flicked a look toward Marc’s office. “Any chance I could see him for a minute?”
“Sure, I think he’s just catching up on his filing, or he was just before you arrived.”
Addie sank into Marc’s visiting chair, blinking back tears. So, that was it. Simon had sent her a message loud and clear. He was done. Her head ached from stemming the dam of tears threatening to burst.
Marc paused in his rifling through one of his many file cabinets. “I thought I heard your voice out there. What can I do for you?”
She stared at the floor, afraid that if she opened her mouth, a deluge of emotion would pour out instead of words.
“Addie? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” It hurt. To think. To breathe. To speak.
“So, what brings you in?”
Breath, damn it. Just breathe. She took a breath and recounted her and Serena’s morning adventure.
When she finished, he looked down at her from across the desk. “What makes you think the boxes were deliberately removed from the office?”
“Because according to my . . . sources, the office trash cans are emptied every night. The two cups were in there, but no sign of a sushi lunch from Mr. Yamada’s restaurant. The boxes have to be somewhere.”
“Have you ever been inside a Dumpster, especially one from a hospital?”
“No, but you’re the one who always says leave no stone unturned.”
He blew out a deep breath. “You’re right, and . . . you might be on to something.”
“Then, you’ll check it out and ask Patrick about the three lunch boxes?” He nodded, his eyes fixed on hers. “Good, because after what I found out, he has to be behind it or at least know who is? That third box was for someone.”
“I guess, but all the witnesses we talked to said he was downstairs all morning.”
“Well, someone got it wrong, because Mr. Yamada can place him in his restaurant at ten thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll check out the timeline with him.”
“You do that. There might be something else he can remember now that I stirred up his memories.”
“I know how to do my job, and now that the reports point to Teresa’s death as suspicious, I’m obligated to follow every lead, regardless of the source.”
“Suspicious? Not murder?”
“Not yet. It could still be an accident.” He shrugged. “It could be a matter of consuming tainted fish and not a deliberate poisoning.”
“But I just told you what Mr. Yamada said. When you talk to him, he’ll tell you the same thing.”
“The DA needs more proof to call it a murder. We have to be certain.”
She rose to her feet, grinning. “And maybe you’ll find that in the Dumpster.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself. I noticed Patrick’s name on your crime board.”
“I am, and as far as I can tell, he had the most to gain by killing her and getting his hands on the book. It’s worth more than he probably makes in a year.”
She flipped her ponytailed head and got as far as the door before he spoke again. “You’re not a very good liar.”
She pinned him with a glare. “I didn’t lie to you.”
He dropped a handful of folders on his desk, walked across the room to her, and placed his hands on her shoulders, his gaze searching her face. “I know when something’s bothering you.”
His eyes, those deep pools of warm chocolate brown got to her every time, but they couldn’t now. She couldn’t allow him in. Not this time. What would she say? Your competition apparently isn’t competition anymore? He’d hardly give her any sympathy, and right now she needed a hug, not mocking laughter. “I’m just tired.”
“Are you sure? My instincts tell me different.”
She pulled away. “Then let your instincts lead you to the Dumpster and hopefully to my missing book and a murderer.” She scooted past Carolyn’s desk, her pent-up tears streaming down her cheeks.
Chapter 23
Addie stopped short. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw exactly what she needed right now. There it was in the front window of Martha’s Bakery, not the candy-decorated gingerbread house, but the two gingerbread men beside it with their stupid, grinning faces. She glared at them, certain they were mocking her. Moments later, she returned to the street, clasping a man in each hand and proceeded to bite the head off of each. A smile of satisfaction tugged at the corners of her lips. Revenge had never been so sweet.
The door chimes rang out over her head. Paige looked up from reshelving a book on the sales rack by the door. “Was one of those meant for me?” She looked from one decapitated gingerbread man to the other.
Addie looked down at them, melted icing dripping from her fingers. “Sure”—she held one out—“here.”
“Thanks”—Paige winced—“but I think I’ll pass.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. They were therapy. I’ll buy you one later, if you want.”
“Don’t worry about it. Mom’s enlisted me as her taste-tester ever since she got those new cookbooks from you.” She patted her stomach. “I think it’s her plan to make me just like her by Christmas.”
“As long as you have her sense of humor, too. There could be far worse things to become.”
“Excuse me. You have met my mother, haven’t you?”
Addie snorted.
“Don’t you dare start that laughy-snorty thing again,” Paige snickered.
“Then I’d better go wash.” She licked her gooey fingers and headed for the back room. “Why don’t you grab lunch while it’s quiet?” The door chimes rang seconds later
. “No telling her twice anymore,” Addie chuckled.
Washed up and icing free, Addie removed the drop cloth from her blackboard and pulled the makeshift crime list from her tote bag. After copying the information, she glared at the chalky words. “It’s useless. All we have are some silly suspicions. Where’s the actual proof of a crime?” She stabbed the chalk into her final sentence on the board, bits flying in all directions.
“What’s wrong?”
“Serena.” Addie patted her pounding chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I don’t doubt it. Looks like you got your head back into that again.” She nodded toward the crime board. “But just so you know, since you’re off in another world, Nancy Drew, three boys just did a grab-’n’-dash out your front door.”
“What?” Addie’s face whitened, and she started toward the shop door.
Serena’s cackles of laughter stopped her in her tracks.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“You should have seen your face.” Serena grabbed her side and hunched over with a fit of laughter.
“Not funny.” Addie threw the piece of chalk at her.
Serena ducked. “Yes, it was, and a good reminder that you are trying to run a successful business here. So, may I suggest that when Paige is out, you keep your head in the game of shopkeeper, not sleuth?”
“Yes, Mother.” Addie wiped the chalk from her hands and stalked to the front counter. Serena followed her. “Go away, I’m mad at you.” Addie shifted a stack of books from one side of the counter to the other.
“How can you be mad at this face?” Serena fluttered her eyelashes, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Speaking of running successful businesses, who’s in charge of yours right now? Miss Flighty-pants?”
“I prefer to call her Miss Scaredy-pants, but whatever.” She shrugged. Addie choked in an attempt to suppress the laughter threatening to escape from her rumbling chest.
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