Lethal Lasagna

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Lethal Lasagna Page 21

by Rhonda Gibson


  A nervous laugh drifted across the lines. “Yeah, it’s silly, but Mom swore she loved it. So I worked that crane machine until I finally got it for her. It took me three nights and about thirty dollars in quarters. I gave it to her for her birthday. I was sixteen but I’ll never forget that look of happiness.”

  My mind raced. Had I seen the little pig? No. “I’m sorry, Jake, but no, I haven’t seen it.”

  Disappointment filled his voice. “Oh, okay. I’ll let you go. Thanks Claire. I hope you get to feeling better.”

  I hung the phone up and went to the kitchen. A thought gnawed at me. My gaze traveled past the silver birdcage and across the drive to Sara’s house. “Surely, I can’t be right.” But there was only one way to find out.

  I filled a glass with water and took several sips. Lying down might not have been the best thing for me to do. Now I ached all over. A glance at the clock on the microwave confirmed I’d slept away the morning. It was now twelve-thirty. My head hurt even more than it had this morning.

  The phone rang again. I sighed but went to answer it. Jake may have forgotten something or had another question about his mother’s things.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Claire. How you feeling?” Brandon asked.

  I didn’t want to worry him so I made my scratchy voice sound as light as possible. “I’m doing okay. How were services?”

  “They were good, but you sound awful. I’m coming home.”

  If I wanted to do what I thought I wanted to do, I didn’t want Brandon to come home. He would definitely not approve. And, I wasn’t sure my suspicions were correct. “No, go have fun with Rodney. I’m taking some more aspirin and going to lay down for a nap.”

  He paused. “Are you sure?”

  “Very. All you would be able to do is watch me sleep. Plus, I’ll feel even worse if you don’t go have some fun. You’ve been babysitting me too much lately.” I twisted the cord around my hand and sent up a silent prayer that he’d listen to me.

  A deep warm laugh traveled through the lines. “Okay, I’ll go, but if you need anything, call my cell phone.”

  I agreed and we hung up. I got dressed and grabbed my jacket. Then I pulled Sprocket’s leash from its peg and headed out the front door.

  Walking the dog was the last thing on my mind. Snooping over at Sara’s house, that was the real reason behind the leash. With the way I was feeling, hopefully I wouldn’t have to walk him any further than across the driveway to her house. How I’d get inside would be the next bridge I’d have to cross.

  My gaze moved to Sara’s house. Her pickup sat in the driveway. Rats! I’d been hoping she’d already left to have lunch with her mother.

  Sprocket barked and bumped my leg with his head. I laughed nervously. “Okay, boy. We’re going for a short walk.” Heat consumed me. My fever had picked up.

  The dog was happy to walk around the block. I realized I’d neglected him since I’d taken on investigating Mitzi’s death. My thoughts turned to the crystal pig and the saltshaker set I’d given her that had disappeared.

  Just because Sara collected both didn’t mean she took them from Mitzi’s. I tried to think of a motive. As far as I knew, Sara and Mitzi had never met. I thought back to the first time Sara had inquired about Mitzi. She’d acted as if they’d never met. Was I allowing my over-active imagination to run wild?

  Sprocket stopped to visit a cute Cocker Spaniel puppy. While they sniffed at each other, I allowed my thoughts to ramble to the vandalism of my room. Working in a sewer would have given Sara access to the rats. Anyone could get a chicken from the farmers market. But rats, well I really needed to check with the pet store and see if any had been purchased in the last few weeks.

  The dogs said goodbye, and I was on my way again. “Why hadn’t the police thought of that?”

  We were almost back to the house. Sweat poured off my brow, and my head felt woozy. I looked to Sara’s house and found her staring back at me.

  “Claire, why don’t you come in for a cup of peach tea?” She called.

  This was my chance. If I could look at her collection again, I might be able to prove to myself that she hadn’t killed my best friend. “Thanks, I could sure use a glass of iced tea.” I tied Sprocket to the front porch.

  She smiled, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes. “Sure. Come on inside.”

  Was I walking into a murderer’s home, or had a fever consumed me, and this new fear was just a figment of my imagination?

  TITLE

  Lethal Lasagna

  Chapter 28

  “Mom and I really enjoyed the spiced tea you gave me, Claire.” Sara closed the door behind me. A soft click sounded and then she led the way into her kitchen. “My mom told me to find out where you got it. It helps to calm her nerves.”

  I looked about the kitchen that was so much like my own. She’d added a border of black and white pigs near the ceiling. White curtains covered a window that looked out over the back yard. A small round table sat in the center of the room.

  Sara looked over her shoulder at me. “Oh please, sit down. You look as if the sun has cooked you alive.”

  Thankful, I slid into one of the chairs at the table. My head throbbed and my body felt as if it were on fire. I should have waited to do this, I thought. “I feel like it, too.”

  Sara turned back to the counter. She took a small clear glass bottle down. “You want iced tea, right?”

  “Yes, please.” I laid my head on the cool surface of the wood. Maybe I should have gone home and taken the nap I told Brandon I’d take.

  Ice cubes clanked into glasses. The sound rebounded in my aching head.

  Sara sat down across from me. “It will take a few minutes for the tea to boil. Until then, we can catch up.” Without taking a breath, Sara pressed on. “You’re a member of the Mad Hatters aren’t you?”

  I lifted my head and looked across at her. “Yes. You know. I’m not feeling too well. I appreciate the offer of tea, but I think I’ll go on home.”

  She put a large hand over mine. “You stay put. The tea will be ready in a few minutes, and you’ll feel much better.”

  I looked into her eyes. They seemed hard and cold. I lowered my head. At the moment I felt as weak as a newborn lamb, but knew something wasn’t right. “Okay, but just one glass. I left Sprocket out in the sun.”

  “I heard you’ve been asking a lot of questions about Mitzi’s death. Mama’s in the Mad Hatters, and she says you asked everyone about it. Why did you do that?”

  I groaned. “I want to know who killed her.”

  “But with all those warnings, weren’t you scared the killer would come after you?” She pushed her chair back and went to make the tea.

  I tilted my head and watched her. She poured the boiling water into a plastic pitcher. Steam circled her head. “A little. But, Brandon was sleeping on the porch, so I felt pretty safe.” I lowered my eyes. The pressure behind them felt almost unbearable.

  “He wasn’t there when someone put rats in your bedroom.”

  Had the police questioned Sara about the vandalism? “That’s true. Whoever put them there did so when neither of us was home.”

  “I guess they should have used real blood instead of ketchup.” She mumbled. I heard the tea being poured into the glasses.

  Someone rang the doorbell.

  Even with the headache and fever, I knew Sara had killed Mitzi and put the dead animals in my room. The police wouldn’t have told the public about the ketchup, and only the killer would have known that piece of information. What I didn’t know is why she did it. I forced myself to sit up.

  She ignored the visitor and handed me the beverage.

  “Aren’t you going to get that?” I asked.

  “No, I’m not expecting company.” She sat down and stared at me. “Go ahead and drink up. It will make you feel better.”

  I raised the glass; the scent of peach caused me to feel queasy again. I set it on the table. I had to know for sure. “Sara, w
hy do you think the person who killed Mitzi messed up my bedroom?” I rocked the glass between my hands. It felt wonderful against my palms.

  The doorbell rang again. Sara got up and walked to the window. She looked out and frowned.

  Why didn’t she answer the door? I looked to the tea. “I’d better be going.”

  She turned as I stood. “Mitzi was a Miss Perfect. She made my mother’s life miserable. She had to die. Drink the tea, Claire.”

  TITLE

  Lethal Lasagna

  Chapter 29

  “Why?”

  She advanced toward me. “You know why. I warned you.”

  I stepped back. “So it was you.”

  Sara picked up my glass. “Drink the tea. I promise it won’t hurt.” She continued to walk toward me as I backed up. “I like you, Claire; I promise it won’t be painful. Drink the tea.”

  The sound of splintering wood filled the house. Sara didn’t miss a step. “You have to die, too, Claire. Mom can’t think of nothing but you and Mitzi. I thought when Mitzi went away, she’d stop worrying and would do stuff with me again. But then you started nosing around.”

  Detective Howard and a police officer entered the room. “Stop right there.” He ordered.

  We both stopped.

  Sara turned to face them. “What are you doing in my house?” She demanded.

  “You are under arrest for attempted murder.” The detective told her. At the same time he motioned for the officer to cuff her.

  Attempted murder? The words echoed in my feverish mind.

  She tossed the tea at him and made a dash for the back door. I slumped against the wall. The officer was on Sara before she could get the door open. He cuffed her and then hauled her past me.

  “Are you all right?” Detective Howard asked, whipping out his handkerchief. He picked up the glass. I noticed a small amount of liquid still rested in the bottom.

  I stared.

  “Claire?” His concerned blue eyes stared up into mine.

  “I’m fine.” Fine, I wasn’t fine. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be the same again. I’d faced Mitzi’s killer, knowing she planned to kill me, too. “The tea is poisoned, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Probably. We’ll check it out at the lab. Did she confess?”

  Brandon rushed into the room. “Oh Claire, please tell me you didn’t drink it.” He wrapped my shaking body in his arms.

  “I didn’t.” I assured Brandon as hot tears ran down my face and into his shirt.

  Detective Howard’s soft, commanding voice said. “I need to know, Claire. Did she confess?”

  I pulled myself away from Brandon’s tight hold, aware that the police officer had already asked that question. I turned my attention to Detective Howard. “I don’t know.”

  He took me by the arm and guided me to one of the kitchen chairs. “Okay, tell me exactly what she said.”

  I spent the next half hour answering their questions regarding what had taken place since I’d arrived at Sara’s. When I finished, I asked a question of my own. “How did you know I was here?”

  “We picked up Darlene Lowery about half an hour ago. She confessed to killing Mitzi, but when we questioned her about the things that had happened to you, she didn’t have a clue what we were talking about. But then when I—”he cleared his throat—”asked about the rats and the chicken that were in your room, her face paled, and she begged us to come check on Sara.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Brandon said. “Why did she want you to check on Sara?”

  “She was afraid that Sara would try to kill Claire.”

  If it hadn’t just happened, I wouldn’t have believed it, but she had just tried. And, might have succeeded, if the police hadn’t arrived.

  The Detective must have been thinking the same thing because he asked, “And you didn’t drink the tea?”

  I shook my head. “No, I didn’t.”

  “You’re sure?” Concern laced his voice.

  I tried to smile. “Very sure.”

  More officers filled the room. Detective Howard nodded to me and then started giving orders.

  Brandon pulled his attention back to us. “Detective, I’d like to take Claire to the hospital.”

  “Okay, but Claire I’d like to have your official statement before you leave, if you feel up to it.”

  I turned to face Brandon. He’d started to protest but I laid a hand on his arm. “Would you put Sprocket back in the yard? Then we can go.”

  Detective Howard indicated we step outside, and then he whipped out his notebook. He shot off several questions. I answered each of them. While I did so, I watched Brandon take Sprocket home and release him in the front yard. Then, he jogged back across the driveway.

  “Did Darlene say why she killed Mitzi?” I asked.

  “She just kept muttering that it wasn’t fair that Mitzi was always the center of attention and got everything her way.”

  “So it was jealousy.” I sighed. Sadly, my friend had died because someone was jealous of her.

  “And Sara almost killed you for the same reason.” Brandon reminded me.

  The thought of my near-death immediately drained all my energy. “I’m sorry but I’m tired. Can I go now?”

  “I might have more questions for you later but you can go for now.”

  Brandon helped me into his truck.

  While he walked around to the driver’s side I rolled down the window. “Detective, I’m glad you figured out Darlene murdered Mitzi. Thanks.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad too.”

  I rolled the window back up.

  Brandon pulled out onto the road. I rested my head against the seat and enjoyed the cool air that came through the air conditioner. “How did you know I was at Sara’s?”

  “I saw Sprocket tied to her front porch.”

  “So you called the police?” I asked.

  He reached across and took my hand. “No, they were already there.”

  I enjoyed the coolness of his palm over the back of my hot hand.

  He gave it a gentle squeeze.

  “Sara said something about her mother not spending time with her because of Mitzi and me. Isn’t that sad?”

  “Yes. I wonder if Fred feels the same way.” Brandon rubbed his thumb against the back of my hand.

  “Fred and Sara are brother and sister?” I opened my eyes and turned to look at him.

  His other strong hand controlled the truck, and his eyes remained on the road. “Adopted brother and sister. Darlene Lowery adopted them both when they were just kids. Sara has always resented that her mother adopted Fred, too. I think she planted his manuscript in Mitzi’s house. If he were arrested, she’d be an only child and the center of attention.”

  “Darlene never gave Sara her last name?”

  “Nope, seems Sara wanted to keep her father’s last name. She had been in a series of foster homes and had been a troubled child. The only thing her father left her was that old truck and the feeling that she wasn’t good enough to keep around.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I went and talked to Fred. He told me how much Sara hated him.”

  We pulled into the emergency parking lot. Poor Darlene, even though I hated the fact that she killed Mitzi, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. I couldn’t imagine Megan going to jail for attempted murder. No matter how badly our children behave, we still want to believe the best of them.

  I wondered how Darlene had given Mitzi the poisoned lasagna. Had they been friends? Or had she left it for Mitzi with a note like Sara had the brownies at my house? And if so, what had happened to the note? Had there been a note? My head really hurt from all the unanswered questions racing around in my brain.

  Brandon held my door open for me. He hustled me into the emergency room. After that, all talk of Mitzi and murder was dropped.

  Why does it take all day to find out you have the flu? I hate hospitals, and I hate waiting when I feel bad. It was a great relief when
they finally released me into Megan’s care, with a prescription for an antibiotic and the standard caution to drink plenty of fluids. All I wanted was to get home where I knew Brandon waited for me. Even though I wasn’t feeling well, I wanted to be with him.

  She drove home and asked for all the details of what happened at Sara’s house. “I can’t believe you went to her house thinking that she killed Mitzi.” She scolded as we drove up in my driveway.

  I blew my nose. Then climbed out of her car. Brandon’s pickup was parked in the drive. His cot was in the back and two suitcases were propped against the cab of the truck.

 

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