Playing with Poison: A Humorous and Romantic Cozy (Cue Ball Mysteries Book 1)

by Cindy Blackburn

  I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary and went downstairs to see if Bryce were home. He answered the door quickly, but the smile on his face disappeared when he saw me.

  “Oh, hi, Jessie.”

  “Are you expecting someone else?”

  He looked past me into the hallway. “I guess I was hoping to talk to Candy before I left for work.”

  “Shhhh!!” I hissed and pushed him back into his apartment.

  “Jimmy Beak’s on the prowl again,” I said as I shut the door. “He doesn’t know she’s over there. If I have anything to say about it, no one will find out she’s over there.”

  I frowned. “How the heck did you know she’s over there?”

  “I heard her in the hallway this morning.” Bryce seemed startled, and I apologized for being so bossy. He continued, “I went out to see if the cops were back again. You know, searching the place or whatever? And there was Candy, standing around in her bathrobe.”

  “My bathrobe,” I corrected him. “She had just gotten home from jail.”

  “That’s what Candy said. She said you helped her a lot, Jessie. I was really glad she made bail, but she told me she wasn’t in the mood to talk and went inside.”

  “She needs to hide, Bryce. And we need to let her.”

  He agreed with my wisdom and swore he wouldn’t mention her whereabouts to anyone.

  I told him about my couch. “Would you come help me with it?”

  He nodded and went to find some shoes while I waited in his atrocious living room. Like all the apartments in our building, Bryce’s had amazing high ceilings, a few brick walls, and some nice windows. But his decor of packing-crate tables and picked-up-at-the-side-of-the-road furniture ruined the elegant ambience. The electronics, on the other hand, looked way more elaborate than my own humble stereo system.

  Bryce came out from his bedroom shod in sandals. Not exactly safety shoes, but I led him up the stairs and to my couch.

  “How’s Candy doing?” he whispered as he grabbed one end.

  “She had a rough night.” I struggled with my side of the thing and apologized for it being so heavy, but Bryce was unfazed. He’s one of those tall, gangly young men whose strength can be surprising.

  “This is better,” I said once we had it in place and were sitting at opposite ends. Without the couch, my living room had looked rather forlorn. But now everything was back the way I liked it.

  “Your apartment is so much nicer than mine.” Bryce, too, was admiring the decor. “I guess it pays to buy actual furniture.”

  “My offer still stands, you know? I’ll help you decorate anytime you’re ready.”

  We both knew this would never happen, even though my preference for sleek furniture in soft grays and whites would probably suit a man’s taste. But Bryce had other priorities to spend his money on—like rent and tuition.

  I got up to start the tea kettle as Snowflake hopped up to inspect the couch. She paced along the back, sniffing daintily here and there, as if she had never seen the thing before.

  Once she decided the couch could stay, she settled down near Bryce’s head and started swatting at his pony tail. Bless his heart, he ignored his allergies, and offered her the requisite pat and three sneezes before moving to a barstool at the counter.

  “So what’s the deal with Candy?” he asked. “She’s gonna get off, isn’t she?”

  I said I certainly did hope so, but was quick to point out Captain Rye had closed the case. “He’s off on vacation, and meanwhile Carter O’Connell’s still stuck in jail.”

  “Rye’s on vacation? You’re kidding?”

  “I wish I was.” I pushed our tea cups across the counter and sat down. “But don’t worry. I’ll prove Candy’s innocence myself if need be.”

  “I’ve got something to confess, Jessie.”

  “Oh?”

  Bryce picked up a teaspoon and stirred it around the sugar bowl, creating a lovely whirlpool design. “Rye caught me with that picture you gave me last night. He was kind of mad about it.”

  He winced as if he expected a scolding, but I assured him Rye is always angry about something. “You did your best.”

  “Which wasn’t too good.” He scooped two teaspoons of sugar into his cup, completely ruining his artwork. “How about you? Have you learned anything useful?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve learned all kinds of things. Who knows what might be useful.”

  “Did Karen get anything out of Evan?”

  I perked up. “She did great, actually. She found out Stanley got a promotion right before he died. So I paid a visit to Boykin and Dent today.”

  “You went over there?” Bryce was clearly impressed. “What’d you find out?”

  “Stanley had some enemies at work. Believe it or not, he was actually blackmailing his boss.”

  “I can believe it. Did the boss kill him?”

  I said I doubted it, and gave a brief summary of the other employees, while Bryce used the teaspoon to tap out a tune on the edge of his cup.

  “Of all the Boykin and Dent people, Thomas Fell seems the most suspicious,” I concluded. “Do you know him, Bryce? Maybe he was with Stanley the other night?”

  He shook his head and insisted he had no recollection of any Thomas at The Stone Fountain.

  “Well then, I probably wasted my whole afternoon.” I sighed dramatically. “I’m getting nowhere.”

  Bryce put down the spoon. “Come on, now. What about all the people at the bar you’ve been talking to? You’ve had to learn something?”

  “Like from the Dibbles? Other than drinking me into bankruptcy, they’ve been completely useless. And don’t you dare tell Audrey I have my couch back.”

  We turned to observe my sinister couch, where Snowflake had settled down for a nap.

  “Let me guess,” Bryce said. “It’s got cooties?”

  “Who knows what it’s doing to my chakras, even as we speak.”

  “The only thing dangerous about that couch is the cat hair.”

  We turned back to our tea. “Umm, Bryce?” I said as he returned to his tapping the teacup. “What do you know about the Allens?”

  “What about them?”

  “They remind me of the Dibbles.” I shrugged and tried sounding nonchalant. “They seem kind of unhappy.”

  “Kind of? What’s up with the Allens?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. “But I’m getting so nosey. I’m wondering if they’ll stay together.”

  “I think so—they like fighting with each other.” Bryce tapped faster. “But then again, I thought Stan and Candy would stay together. Until this Carter guy came along.” He stopped tapping and the spoon froze in midair.

  “What?”

  “I have an idea, Jessie. But you’re not gonna like it.”

  I rolled my eyes and told him he was starting to sound like Rye. “Spit it out.”

  “Maybe it was Candy’s new boyfriend after all.”

  “What? How can you say such a thing, Bryce? We don’t even know Carter O’Connell.”

  “That’s what I’m getting at.” He held my gaze. “We don’t know him.”

  “But Candy knows him,” I argued. “She’s known him since high school.” I frowned at my own words—emphasizing Candy and Carter’s history together wasn’t exactly the greatest defense.

  “Maybe Carter’s not as nice as she thinks he is,” Bryce was saying. “Stanley sure wasn’t.”

  Okay, good point.

  The phone rang, and we jumped in unison. I hopped up to answer.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Captain Rye was his usual cordial self.

  “Well,” I said slowly. “I’m having a cup of tea with Bryce Dixon.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tea, Captain.” I winked at Bryce. “Bryce takes his with sugar.”

  Rye took a deep breath. “Get rid of him, Ms. Hewitt. We need to talk.”

  Chapter 22

  I would have refused to kick out my guest so rudely,
but Bryce was already leaving. I held my hand to the receiver. “Remember, Bryce. Mum’s the word on Candy being home?”

  He put an index finger to his lips and shut the door behind him.

  “Okay,” I said into the phone. “You’ve successfully scared away poor Bryce. Now what’s this about you being on vacation? Are you insane?”

  “Vacation?”

  “Don’t mess with me, Captain. I’ve had a very long day, and then came home to find Jimmy Beak camped out on my couch. He took great pleasure in informing me you’ve skipped town.”

  “My whereabouts aren’t the issue, Ms. Hewitt. It’s yours we’re talking about.”

  “Mine?”

  “Yes, yours. Tell me about this long day you’ve had. Starting with your visit to Boykin and Dent. I thought we agreed you would leave things to me.”

  “Nooo,” I argued. “We agreed I wouldn’t go around announcing you’re still working on the case.” Rye started to protest, but I continued, “I never said I would stop looking. I have uncovered a few interesting facts, by the way. That is, once you decide to return from vacation.”

  While Rye did some deep breathing exercises on the other end of the line, I joined Snowflake on the couch and took off my shoes.

  “Captain Rye?” I asked as I rubbed my feet. “Are you still there?”

  “I just got off the phone with Roslynn Mayweather. That name sound familiar?”

  “Roslynn the Receptionist? Oh, yes, sir. I spoke with her this afternoon and insisted she call you.”

  Rye may have whined.

  “Aren’t you even interested in what I learned?”

  “Do I tell you how to write your love scenes?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Do I tell you how to do your job? Did you really think Ms. Mayweather’s affair with Billy Joe Dent would be news to me?”

  I sat forward. “You knew about this?”

  “Densmore’s been questioning Dent for days. I will say Ms. Mayweather’s finally coming clean about it was,” he hesitated, “satisfying.”

  “That’s where the money came from, correct? Stanley was blackmailing Dent?”

  “It accounts for some of it, yes. What isn’t accounted for is Dent’s whereabouts Saturday night.”

  “He was with Roslynn,” I said.

  “Not such a great alibi. At least he’s stopped lying about the non-existent poker game, but his claim about being with his mistress has almost as many holes.”

  “But Roslynn can corroborate for him. She told me point blank Dent didn’t do it.”

  “And you believed her?”

  “Intuition tells me she wasn’t lying.”

  “You’re kidding, right? For someone who’s so eager to find a murderer, you’re way too willing to let people off the hook.” I tried to defend myself, but Rye was on a roll. “Listen to me, Jessie. If Candy Poppe isn’t the killer, someone you know and trust is. You need to be careful.

  “Speaking of which, what’s this about you rifling through Sweetzer’s office? You’re a little scary, you know that?”

  I had to admit it had been a little scary in Stanley’s office. I cringed at Snowflake. “Did Roslynn mention that, too?”

  “She says you found an address book?”

  I described Stanley’s little black book, expecting to get a stern lecture about stealing, snooping, and minding my own business. But Rye surprised me by showing some sincere, non-angry interest.

  “I can’t believe you found something my own officers overlooked, but I want it.”

  I told him he could pick it up anytime. “Believe it or not, I am trying to help.”

  “Yeah, right. And don’t you dare start calling any of those women and harassing them. You understand me?”

  “What about Camille Allen?”

  Rye skipped a beat. “What about her?”

  “She’s in the book,” I said. “I’m no expert, as you keep reminding me, but it appears she had an affair with Stanley.”

  “Do not, I repeat, do not go over to that damn bar and ask her about it. You got that?””

  “Are you through issuing orders?”

  He cleared his throat. “Please,” he said quietly. “Just let it go. I’ll have Densmore check into it.”

  I promised not to harass Camille. “Although it sounds like Lieutenant Densmore could use some assistance. What with you being on vacation.”

  “Will you stop it with the vacation? I may be out of town, but I am not on any vacation. Not that I couldn’t use one—after dealing with you all week. Which brings us to another point.”

  “Oh?”

  “What did you think you were doing with Boykin?”

  “Do you mean Arnold Boykin?” I do believe I was starting to enjoy myself.

  “Yes, Ms. Hewitt. The old letch you were cozying up to all afternoon. Roslynn Mayweather mentioned that, too.”

  I winked at Snowflake. “Are you jealous, Captain Rye?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  I swallowed my smile and reported the pertinent details of my conversation with the old letch. For the sake of the poor Captain’s sanity, I omitted the channeling of my heroines thing, and the groping hand on the thigh thing.

  “Let me get this straight,” he interrupted. “You and Arnold Boykin shared a bottle of champagne?”

  “French champagne,” I elaborated and Rye groaned. “And between Vikki Fitkin’s insinuations about Stanley’s unethical business practices, and how nervous Boykin got when I asked about Stanley’s promotion? Well, I knew something wasn’t right.”

  He groaned again. “So you just happened to ask Rosylnn Mayweather about it.”

  “Exactly! All this mischief at Boykin and Dent must have some significance. For instance, it seems likely Stanley had quite a few irate clients.”

  “Believe it or not, Ms. Hewitt, we’ve already checked that angle. Densmore’s a genius at this kind of thing. He’s spent hours tapping into Sweetzer’s computer files and questioning his clients.”

  “And?”

  “And if he comes up with anything, you can learn about it from Jimmy Beak and the Channel 15 news crew, how’s that?”

  I ignored the sarcasm and moved on. “What about Thomas Fell?” I asked. “He was jealous of Stanley’s promotion, and he was about to go snooping around Stanley’s office when I caught him this afternoon. He had no right to be in that office, you know?”

  “And you did? You’re not just a little scary—you’re a lot scary.”

  Again, I ignored Rye’s tone and politely asked if Thomas Fell had an alibi.

  Rye was back to the deep breathing exercises. “Believe it or not,” he said, “reporting to you is not in my job description.”

  “Well, it should be. It’s pretty annoying the way I keep giving you all these great ideas and you keep poo-pooing them.”

  “Pretty annoying about sums it up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m kind of busy.”

  “Oh?”

  I swear I actually heard Rye roll his eyes. “Yeah, you know?” he said. “Trying to clear Candy Poppe, trying to nail the murderer, trying to keep you safe and out of trouble. All, of course, while I’m on this magnificent vacation.”

  “Oh?”

  “Good-bye, Ms. Hewitt.”

  ***

  I once again resisted the urge to recline on my couch, put my shoes back on, and went downstairs to warn Candy.

  “Who’s there?” It was Karen’s voice behind Candy’s door, and she didn’t sound all that hospitable.

  “It’s just me, for Lord’s sake,” I said. The door swung open and Karen yanked me inside. “What are you doing here?” we asked each other.

  Karen looked me up and down. “Another funeral, Jess?”

  “No. I paid a visit to Boykin and Dent this afternoon.”

  She smiled approvingly. “Did you get anything?”

  “Apparently not.”

  Camille Allen popped into my head, but with one glance at Candy I decided to f
ollow Rye’s advice and let it be. Poor Candy was huddled in a corner of her pink—and I do mean pink—couch and absently munching on an Oreo. She was still in the bathrobe I had loaned her earlier, and she clearly did not look up to a discussion of her dead fiancé’s other women.

  “Nothing Rye didn’t already know,” I added and sat down on the couch.

  “Well, darn!” Karen stomped a work boot and did an about face toward Candy’s kitchen.

  “Did you meet Roslynn?” Candy asked, and I told her we had an interesting conversation about writing.

  “Publishing, actually,” I corrected myself.

  “She’s real ambitious, huh?”

  I nodded and then explained I hadn’t had time to change my clothes since I got home. “But I wanted to get up here to warn you about Jimmy Beak, Sweetie. He’s back.”

  “We know.” Karen had returned from the kitchen. She handed me a glass of milk and sat down opposite us. “I came up to see how Kiddo was doing after what he did to her in his five o’clock report.”

  “She brought cookies and milk and everything.” Candy waved an arm at the spread on her coffee table.

  “I figured Kiddo needed some comfort food.”

  Karen pushed the Oreos in my direction, and while I ate a cookie, they took turns describing Jimmy’s latest segment. Other than how quickly he had gotten the segment on the air, none of it was news to me. He had reported from my hallway, and on my couch, after all.

  I grimaced. “I was actually hoping he wouldn’t air it.”

  “No such luck,” Karen said. “But at least he didn’t bother Kiddo, personally. He must not know she’s home yet.”

  Candy sat forward. “That’s good. Huh, Jessie?”

  “Very good. The fewer people who know you’re here, the better.”

  “Even my parents must think I’m still in jail. My phone hasn’t rung all day.”

  “How exactly did you know she was home?” I asked Karen.

  “Hey, it’s a small building.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And?”

  “And I heard her up here. What are you getting at, girlfriend?”