Purrfect Poison

by Louise Lynn

  It was the easiest thing she could come up with on the fly, and it was even true.

  Pablo let out a bark of miserable laughter. “Your sister? Yeah, Papa Lopez would think something like that. They always jump to conclusions. Why would your sister hurt Monica? Because Monica was a brat sometimes? If everyone that Monica was a brat to is a suspect, everyone’s a suspect—including Papa Lopez,” he said and blew his nose.

  “So you don’t think my sister did it?”

  “I don’t know your sister, but I don’t see why she would hurt my wife.”

  Hazel nodded. “Okay, then do you know anyone who would want to hurt your wife?”

  Pablo sat still, and Hazel wondered if he’d heard the question or not. Finally, his fingers twitched. “Well, if you haven’t heard, Candace Stratford had been complaining about Monica’s contract lately.”

  Hazel raised an eyebrow. Candace pointed Hazel in Pablo’s direction, and here he was pointing her back toward Candace.

  What did that mean?

  “Oh really? Why?”

  “Monica didn’t want to sign a new contract. She thought five years was too long for her to be in Reno. So…” His voice trailed off.

  “Even though you signed the new contract for five years? Had you told Monica that yet?”

  Pablo stiffened, and his eyes darted to Hazel. “No. I hadn’t told her yet. But, I didn’t see what else to do. I mean, I was worried she was going to throw away her entire career over it. And, I had this wedding to pay off so, I had to keep my job. But I didn’t mind if she wasn’t going to sign. I just thought, okay, she’ll figure something out.”

  That sounded a whole lot different than what Candace had said. “Wait, so you thought Monica wasn’t going to sign and then what? Become a housewife?” Hazel said and wrinkled her nose.

  Pablo let out another bark of laughter, although this one wasn’t quite as miserable as the first. “Monica as a housewife? No. She was too ambitious for that. But I thought it might give her some time to weigh her options, and it’s not like we would’ve been broke. If she didn’t sign the contract, we had enough money to last for a bit. And she could work on furthering her journalism career however she wanted. I was completely supportive of any decision she made,” he said empathetically, and Hazel believed him.

  “What if Monica’s decision was to move from Reno? Down to L.A. or even New York? Would you have supported that?”

  Pablo shook his head and walked on slightly unsteady legs to the mini fridge. He pulled out a third bottle of champagne, but didn’t bother to pop the top on that one. Just held it in his hand and squeezed until his knuckles whitened. “So, you’ve been talking to Ms. Stratford. Well, what did she tell you?”

  Hazel glanced at the door, which was open a few inches, and put herself between it and Pablo. That way, if he tried to attack, hopefully she could get away first. “She said Monica hadn’t signed and had bigger ambitions than Reno; that she was bragging about moving someplace else. She also said Monica seemed to be spending a lot of money on the wedding. Money she didn’t have. Ms. Stratford didn’t know anything about it, but she thought you might.”

  Pablo’s shoulders slumped, and he went about opening the new bottle of champagne. Once he did, he offered some to Hazel, but she regretfully shook her head. She loved champagne, but now was not the time to be drinking it, unfortunately.

  Pablo took a long swig from the bottle and swallowed before he answered. “Honestly, I don’t know what she was planning, but she said not to worry about money—that we’d have plenty soon enough. I knew she hadn’t signed and was complaining about the contract. She’d mentioned something about making it big in San Diego or L.A, but she didn’t tell me what she was on to. You have to understand something about Monica; she was really secretive. Even to me. When she was working on that thing with the lawyer, the environmental one she invited to the wedding—Mr. Banks—she didn’t tell me anything about it until this story aired. She’s really–”

  “Untrusting?” Hazel put in.

  The shadow of a smile crept over Pablo’s lips, but he shook his head. “No. I want to say greedy, but that’s not the right word either. She just wanted to do it on her own. And, with that one, I think she didn’t tell anyone because she thought we’d tell her it was too dangerous. She was taking on a huge company, and she got them shut down. If she was onto something that big again, she wouldn’t share the information with anyone.”

  “I hate to ask this, but–”

  Pablo’s eyes met hers, much sharper than she assumed they’d be after all that champagne. “Did I kill my wife?”

  A shiver went down Hazel’s spine, and she slowly nodded. “The poison looked like it was injected into the cake with a needle, and Monica had some for her insulin, right?”

  Pablo’s eyes shot to the nightstand at the side of the bed. “Yeah, but they’re all here. Look,” he said and pulled out a little black bag.

  Sure enough, it was filled with needles full of insulin. At least twelve, from Hazel’s count. “This was enough to get her through your honeymoon?”

  Pablo nodded. “Yeah. She needed to bring enough since she wasn’t sure she could get more in Central America. But—oh, she used one this morning. That’ll be in the box,” he said and pointed at the red one on the dresser.

  Hazel peeked inside, but it was empty. “There’s nothing here.”

  “What?” Pablo said and stumbled toward her. His eyes didn’t seem to focus for a moment. “I—I saw her inject herself this morning. She always takes it in the morning, and …”

  “Did you hurt her?” Hazel asked carefully and took a slow step back.

  “No! But, I can see why it looks suspicious. I didn’t have a reason to want her dead. And I don’t know what happened to that needle. Even if we’re talking about money, we kept it in separate accounts. She didn’t want to do joint, and I agreed. Monica could get pretty spendy, and I didn’t want my paycheck to go to her designer clothes. And I don’t think she wanted her paycheck to go to my jet skis. I didn’t have a reason to kill her. I was marrying her because I loved her. I didn’t want her dead.” His voice cracked on the last word. He slumped back on the bed; the champagne slipped between his hands.

  “Just because you had different accounts doesn’t mean you didn’t have access to her money, does it?” Hazel asked carefully.

  Pablo let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, if you think this has something to do with money, I can’t stop you. But it didn’t. At least not for me. Plus, I made more money than she did. I know, she read two hours of news a day, and I did the weather for about ten minutes per newscast. But, I have a Masters in meteorology, and she has a B.A. in journalism. I got paid more, and you can double check that with Ms. Stratford.”

  Hazel blinked. Candace hadn’t mentioned that, and it was an important detail. “You got paid more for doing twenty minutes of work than she did two hours?” Hazel said and wrinkled her nose.

  Pablo nodded. “I didn’t ask for more; it’s just the way the pay structure worked. And, that could’ve been part of the reason Monica was always pushing herself. She thought she deserved better, I guess. Maybe she thought she deserved better than me,” he said into the bottle of champagne.

  “Was she ever unfaithful?” Hazel asked with a wince.

  Pablo snorted and shook his head. “If she was, I didn’t know about it. And I don’t think so. No—I don’t want her legacy to be tarnished by something like that. She was a lot of things, not all of them good, but I still loved her. I still wanted to spend my life with her. And—” Pablo sat up straight all of a sudden, his eyes blurry but bright. “Have you talked to Mace Daily?” he said, and the bitterness was sharper in his voice.

  Hazel nodded. “Yeah. And he’s a nasty piece of work.”

  “If you think Monica was ambitious, Mace Daily is that times twenty. He was always jealous of her. You know why? She got paid more than him. He might have been in the game for a while, but she was a better reporter, and Candace s
aw it. So, the last time Monica got a raise and Mace didn’t, he was seething. Not to mention she would go out and find stories to report on, and he just wanted to sit in his makeup chair and be comfortable.”

  That was a better motive than she’d considered before. “Okay, did anyone else at the station have a reason to want her dead?” Hazel asked.

  Pablo shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, if it’s everyone who Monica was rude to, that’s a long list. But if I had to guess, I’d say it’s the person who had the most against her, and that’s definitely Mace.”

  Hazel was about to leave, her mind swirling with new information, when something occurred to her. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Mr. Santos, but I heard Monica on the phone last night before the rehearsal. She sounded like she was threatening someone. Do you have any idea who that could’ve been?”

  Pablo’s eyes shifted from side to side, and his face went ashen. “Probably the florist. I think he messed up the number of roses she wanted. Oh, there was something I was meaning to ask the sheriff. Did they find Monica’s phone?” He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell. “I haven’t seen it since yesterday. Which is weird since she had that phone glued to her ear most of the time.”

  Hazel didn’t remember a phone turning up at the crime scene. Nor did she think Monica was having it out with the florist, since Ronan Kelly was at the inn when she answered the call. It sounded like Pablo was hiding something. “Have you tried calling it? Maybe she left it in the room.”

  He fiddled with his for a moment, and his hand hovered over the screen before he pressed it. Hazel could imagine how difficult that would be. Calling his murdered wife’s phone and knowing she wouldn’t pick up.

  There was no ring or buzz from anywhere in the honeymoon suite, and his dark brows furrowed over his eyes.

  “Not in the room? You think she misplaced it?”

  Pablo shook his head. “Monica would never do that. Like I said, that phone was her life. If it’s missing…”

  Hazel had a sinking pit in her stomach.

  If it was missing, the killer probably took it.

  Chapter 13

  Hazel hurried down the stairs, her heart pounding and her brain racing with that new information. She had to find Sheriff Cross right away and let him know.

  The stairway seemed to be the original, and curved down to meet the third-floor hallway. As Hazel spun around the corner, she slammed right into someone.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she cried as she caught herself on the wall.

  The person she ran into wasn’t quite so lucky. He stumbled and fell on the plush carpet, knocking his glasses askew. “Oh, funny running into you again, Miss Photographer,” Stan said with a goofy smile.

  Hazel smiled back and leaned down to give him a hand.

  Stan took it, and righted himself, dusting off his slacks and Hawaiian shirt. She wondered if he wore that getup to the wedding as well. “How’s Pablo?” His brows furrowed, and he seemed genuinely concerned for his friend.

  Hazel shrugged. “Upset. He’s probably going to finish off another bottle of champagne, so I hope he can handle his alcohol.”

  Stan nodded. “Yeah, he can. I might go up and join him again, to make sure he’s not alone, you know?”

  “That’s kind of you,” Hazel said and smoothed her hands over her dress. “Is that why you’re up this late?”

  Stan shrugged and ran his fingers through his already mussed hair. “No, actually I was planning on passing out in my room and trying to forget everything that happened today, but I realized I lost my phone,” he said and patted himself down as if he might magically find it in one of his pockets.

  Hazel raised a brow. Another person who lost their phone? Well, it could be a coincidence. Then again, it may not be.

  “What model? Just in case I run across it.”

  Stan grinned. “An iPhone 6. Not the latest, I know. I noticed yours, and it’s nice. But it’s not in my budget to upgrade every year. So I basically wait until my cell company gives me one of the iPhones for free. Then I upgrade.”

  Hazel nodded, understanding all too well. “Hey, I hadn’t upgraded in ages, and I’m not quite used to this new one yet,” she admitted as she pulled her cell from her pocket. Though, she did wonder when Stan had seen it. She didn’t remember using her phone during the wedding reception at any point, but she could’ve pulled it out to check the time and he’d seen it then.

  “Doesn’t it have a pretty good camera? I mean, not as good as you’re used to but good enough.”

  Hazel nodded. “Yeah, it’s one of the reasons I upgraded.” She didn’t say the other reason was so she could take discrete pictures without anyone noticing. It was much easier to do that with a cell phone than it was with a three thousand dollar Nikon.

  “So you’ve got an iPhone 6. What color?”

  “Silver. They were all out of rose pink, much to my chagrin,” he said. That same smile lingered on his lips and sparkled around his eyes. It reminded her of Sheriff Cross. Though, Stan’s smile wasn’t anywhere close to a smirk.

  She giggled, assuming he meant it as a joke. “Well, I’ll keep a lookout for a rose pink one; maybe you can trade.”

  Stan laughed, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “So, you know why I’m up. What are you doing wandering around, Miss Photographer? I assume your work here’s done?”

  That was a good point. She decided to use the same excuse she had with Pablo. “Well, I had to talk to the groom about what he wanted to do with my services now that the festivities have screeched to a halt. And, honestly, I want to find out who did this. The bride’s family has their ire set on my sister as the culprit, but I know she wouldn’t do that.”

  Stan’s eyebrows rose. “Your sister made the cake. That gorgeous redhead? I mean you’re both gorgeous redheads but–”

  Hazel felt her cheeks burning. Gorgeous? Really? That was a stretch, but she decided not to mention it. Esther was gorgeous, but Hazel didn’t think of herself that way. It was far too uncomfortable. “Yes. My little sister— who has a boyfriend,” she put in the last part quickly.

  Stan’s cheeks flushed. “I wasn’t going to ask her out. I mean, never mind. Let me guess; you have a boyfriend too? The good ones are always taken,” he said ruefully and rocked back on his heels.

  Hazel wasn’t sure what to say to that. It was something Celia had lamented about on several occasions—though Hazel didn’t know if she was still lamenting considering the date today.

  Which reminded her; she needed to talk to Celia. She hadn’t seen her best friend since the bride fell face first into her cake, and Hazel didn’t imagine that such a thing was good for a first date.

  Stan’s expression changed suddenly. “Wait a minute—they think someone murdered Monica?”

  Hazel blinked at him. She thought all the wedding guests knew about the murder, but maybe not. “Yeah. She was poisoned.”

  “What? I thought she had a diabetic episode. But not murder.”

  Hazel nodded. For someone who was good friends with the groom, it seemed strange that he didn’t know the bride was killed, but maybe Pablo hadn’t mentioned it in his mourning. “Do you know anyone who would do such a thing to Monica?”

  Stan let out a halfhearted laugh, but his expression quickly sobered when Hazel didn’t join him. “Wait. You’re serious. You actually want a list? She wasn’t the nicest person in the world. In fact, I don’t know why Pablo was even going out with her. Besides being pretty, I’m not sure what all she had going on personality-wise. And, I think that’s the most important part of a person. Looks fade, but personality sticks.”

  Hazel nodded slowly. He was right about that. “I realize she wasn’t the most popular person at the station, but if anyone stood out to you that had extreme malice toward her, it’d be helpful.”

  Stan’s eyes shifted back and forth. He glanced around the deserted hallways as if someone might be listening. Then he took a few steps closer. The dim light o
f the sconce above his head sent shadows scurrying across his face. “I don’t know if I have a list, in particular. But I can tell you that she did not get along with either Mace or Candace. I could see where she was coming from with Mace. He’s kind of a jerk. But Candace is great once you get past her prickliness. Though… ” He rubbed his chin.

  Hazel raised a brow. “Though what?”

  “Well, I’m not saying this proves anything, but women usually use poison. Statistically speaking, poison is a woman’s weapon. Men are more likely to kill someone with force.”

  Hazel hadn’t thought about it like that before. But, in her time working for the LAPD, she also hadn’t come across any case where someone had been poisoned. Though there were plenty of other nasty crimes she’d had to photograph. Not to mention the fact that Candace Stratford had the apricot pits in her trashcan without the seeds.

  “You’re right, that doesn’t prove anything, but it’s worth considering.”

  Stan smiled, and his glasses caught the light and glinted. “So are you a PI on the side?”

  Hazel’s felt her cheeks flush and shook her head quickly. “Nothing like that. I’m just trying to clear my sister’s name. I’ll keep an eye out for your phone. Oh, and if you find Monica’s phone, give it to the sheriff, please. It’s missing too.”

  Stan’s expression froze. “Monica’s phone is gone? I swear I saw her tuck it into the front of her dress right before the ceremony.”

  Hazel raised a brow. She could only imagine if the phone went off, what the bride would’ve done with a ringing bosom. Well, it hadn’t happened, but Hazel was sure Monica would’ve been furious if it had.

  “You’re sure? You saw her tuck it into the front of her bodice?”

  Stan nodded quickly. “Yeah. I don’t think the dress had pockets, and she just put it right in the front. Not that I was staring. I’m just saying… “

  Right. He was just saying. Well, at least it was a new piece of information.

  If Monica had her phone right before the ceremony, when had she lost it? Or, when had it been taken?