Purrfect Poison

by Louise Lynn

“You know what kind of phone she had?”

  Stan nodded. “The latest iPhone. Nothing but the best for Monica Lopez. The way she’d been spending money, you would have thought she won the lottery. A lot of good it did her in the end,” he said and shook his head.

  “Thanks. That’s a big help. Have a nice night,” she said and moved past him.

  “Night Miss Photographer. If you need anything else, you know where I am.”

  Hazel tossed him a parting smile and hurried on her way.

  Three people so far had mentioned Monica’s outrageous spending. That had to mean something—as did the bride’s missing phone.

  She needed to speak to the sheriff right away.

  Chapter 14

  Hazel expected to find the sheriff downstairs around the kitchen, but she didn’t expect the commotion that she stumbled into.

  The inn’s owner, she thought the woman’s name was Charlene, stood with wide eyes staring at a bushel of apricot pits—minus the poisonous centers. “I swear. If my son says he left all the pits intact, I believe him. This is one of the biggest weddings of the year. Do you have any idea how much money it cost to rent the entire inn for the weekend? Why would we kill a cash cow?” The woman said.

  Sheriff Cross rubbed his chin and didn’t respond.

  Hazel tiptoed behind him and peeked over his shoulder, which wasn’t easy since he was a good five inches taller than she was. However, she needn’t have done so because Violet was on the other side, and she noticed Hazel first.

  “The seeds are gone. All of them,” the girl said.

  Hazel blinked. Yes, from what she could see of the exposed pits, there were no apricot seeds, only mushy orange bits.

  “And no one can account for when they were taken?” Hazel asked.

  Charlene looked back and forth between all of them. “You know how hectic it’s been these past few days? The tarts were made Friday morning. The apricots have been sitting here waiting for the compost heap since then. And they were supposed to have been thrown out Friday night after the guests retired, but they weren’t. That was an oversight on my staff’s part, but none of my people stole the seeds.”

  Hazel nodded. “Whose idea was it to have the apricot tarts at the high tea?”

  Charlene’s eyes widened. The woman was close to Hazel’s mother’s age, but she looked a whole lot more put together in her knee-length floral dress and coiffed hairdo, even though it frazzled a bit at the ends. She also looked ready for a good night’s sleep. “That’s up to the bride and groom. They’re the ones who decided the menu. They looked online at the options and chose which desserts they wanted. Every high tea has an option of six different ones, but they get to choose three of those. If they want all three. They chose two. The chocolate covered strawberries and the apricot tarts—which are an early summer specialty. So, the bride and the groom did, I guess.”

  “And there aren’t any cameras anywhere around the facility?” Sheriff Cross asked with a heavy sigh. He sounded as if he already knew the answer, and Hazel figured he had. She didn’t notice any security cameras placed anywhere—unless they were uncommonly discrete.

  “No. I’m not paranoid like a certain Mr. Tyson Bridger of the Rockwell Manor,” she said and frowned.

  Hazel felt the chill go up her spine at the mention of that man, and couldn’t help but agree.

  Sheriff Cross rubbed his chin. Over the course of the day, his smooth-shaven cheeks had given way to a five o’clock shadow. “I still need to question all of your kitchen staff, but that can wait until tomorrow since you sent them home.”

  Charlene nodded. “Your deputies spoke to them already. I thought the cake was poisoned. What do apricot seeds have to do with any of this?”

  Sheriff Cross gave her a weary smile. “That’s part of an ongoing investigation, ma’am. But thank you for your help. You can get to sleep now.”

  Charlene gave him a quick decisive nod, and spun on her heel. She walked out of the room muttering about her inn’s reputation being ruined by this, and Hazel understood how that felt. Though, she had a notion the Lakeside Inn would recover.

  Violet yawned and picked up Anthony Ray, who’d wound himself around her feet. “But if Monica was diabetic, why would she have cared what other people were eating for dessert?”

  That was a good point.

  “It may mean the husband chose. What did you learn from him?” Sheriff Cross said and glanced at Hazel. He slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a hug.

  She could’ve melted against his chest right then and there. She tilted her chin up to him. “He doesn’t seem like he killed his wife. I mean, he’s genuinely upset about it and seemed to really love her.”

  “Unless it’s all an act,” Violet said into Anthony Ray’s fluffy black fur.

  Hazel couldn’t blame the girl for thinking that, but she wasn’t so sure herself. Though, she had to admit she’d been fooled before. “Actually, I came to tell you something else. One of Monica’s used insulin needles is missing from the honeymoon suite, and it could have been used to inject the poison into the cake.”

  Sheriff Cross’s eyes narrowed. “Oh? I guess I’ll have to have a private talk with the groom.”

  Something Stan Baker said nudged at the edge of Hazel’s mind. “You know, poison is usually used by female killers. Just FYI.”

  Sheriff Cross’s brows rose. “Are you trying to lead me away from the groom now?”

  She shrugged. “No, just a nice little tidbit of information. Also, according to Pablo, Monica’s phone is missing. But, the station’s cameraman swore he saw Monica put it in her bodice right before the ceremony.”

  Sheriff Cross’s eyes locked on hers. “So do you think she put her phone somewhere afterward, or someone took it?”

  Hazel’s blood chilled. “That’s the question, isn’t it? If someone did take it, the only person who seems likely to gain anything from it is the person who killed her.”

  Violet looked back and forth between them, and Anthony Ray yowled.

  “If that’s the case, we’ll try to find it. But why would the killer take her phone?” Sheriff Cross said and sighed.

  Hazel filled him in on Monica’s spending and that she’d been bragging about a new big story.

  “I have a warrant for her financials and phone records, but it might take until Monday to go through. A reporter getting killed over a story is possible. But nobody has any idea what she was working on?”

  Hazel’s eyes fixed on the remains of the apricot pits. “One of the people who worked with Monica before was at the wedding. I’ll talk to him tomorrow. See if he has any insight into the way she worked, or if he knew what she was working on this time. According to Pablo, Monica was very secretive when it came to a story lead.”

  Violet snorted. “Secretive or just plain selfish?”

  From what Hazel had learned about Monica, that could be true as well.

  “I don’t think there’s much more we can do tonight. You should head home and get some sleep,” Sheriff Cross said and pressed his warm lips into Hazel’s forehead.

  She smiled. “I hope you’re planning on doing the same thing.”

  Sheriff Cross snorted and her hair rustled with it. “I have to finish up a few more things here, but I’m getting some sleep too. I won’t be any good without it. And neither will my honorary deputy.” He scratched under Anthony Ray’s chin.

  The black cat purred and rubbed his face against Sheriff Cross’s blunt fingers.

  Hazel dug into her purse for her truck’s keys and handed them to Violet. “You can get settled outside. I need to grab one of my tripods. Michael texted that he forgot one,” she said with a weary smile.

  The girl nodded and slumped out of the room.

  Sheriff Cross gave her one last kiss. “I mean it. Get some sleep. One of us has to be functioning at their best tomorrow morning.”

  Hazel squeezed him. “I should have gone to bed hours ago if that’s what you wanted. Oh, one last thin
g! What do you think of the Maldives as a honeymoon destination?”

  Sheriff Cross chuckled. “Are you proposing to me or trying to get away to an exotic, non-extradition country?”

  Hazel swatted him playfully. “Neither. But a vacation sounds good. It’s where Monica and Pablo were supposed to go, but I’ve never heard much about it.”

  Sheriff Cross shrugged. “All I know is it’s a tropical island.”

  “And they don’t send criminals back to the U.S?”

  He shook his head, and his expression sobered. “That’s an interesting choice, don’t you think?”

  “It could be a coincidence,” Hazel said, though, from the glint in Sheriff Cross’s eyes, she wasn’t sure if he believed that.

  Hazel made a beeline for the tents on the beach. The lanterns that were supposed to have lit the way had been extinguished, and she had to dig into her purse for the penlight she kept. Thankfully, she found it, or she would’ve been tripping over everything to get there.

  As she was passing the garden, she heard the murmur of voices from within and slowed. Though she couldn’t hear individual words, the conversation felt intimate, as did the setting, and she was about to hurry away when she recognized one of the voices.

  “I’ve had a wonderful time, but–”

  “I understand. I need to get some sleep too. Sure you don’t want me to walk you out?”

  “I need to talk to Hazel. But I’ll see you,” Celia said, and Hazel felt the desire to duck behind a bush and hide.

  The person Celia was talking to must be Marcus Banks; the person Hazel needed to interview. However, she didn’t get a chance to mention that as they stepped out of the garden together.

  Celia’s eyes widened.

  Marcus Banks let out a little chuckle. “Well, looks like your friend needs to talk to you too. Ladies, it was lovely meeting both of you.” He gave Hazel a nod and walked toward the inn.

  Hazel wrinkled her face into an apologetic look and waited until Mr. Banks was out of earshot before she said anything. “I swear I wasn’t spying on you guys. I was just headed out there to get a tripod and–”

  Celia shook her head and giggled. “I didn’t think it was spying. Don’t worry. You know you’re getting more and more paranoid every day.”

  Hazel wasn’t sure whether or not Celia thought it was a bad thing. “It’s hard not to be paranoid when you’re ex-boyfriend gave me the nickname Ms. Nose,” Hazel reminded her.

  Celia giggled harder. “I shouldn’t be laughing today of all days. I shouldn’t be happy after what happened. I didn’t know the bride but still … How awful am I?”

  Hazel offered Celia her arm, and they began walking carefully toward the tents. “Not awful at all. But I take it the date was that good, huh? It’s one thirty in the morning, and you’re still on it.”

  Celia pushed her perfect curls behind her ear. “Well, it did get sidetracked in the middle. So it’s not like we’ve been on it all day.”

  Hazel gave her best friend a playful nudge. “Okay, not all day, but pretty much since eleven. Which is, well, my brain is too tired to count right now, but a long first date. Way longer than mine and Colton’s first date.”

  Celia shook her head. “You guys don’t count because you beat around the bush for months. Your first date was every single morning when you would make googly eyes at each other in my café. Your actual official first date was just an offshoot of that.”

  Hazel didn’t feel like arguing with her best friend, so she shrugged. “If you say so. But this is the longest first date I think anyone in the history of the world has ever had. So it must’ve been good. Is he perfect, like your mom suggested?”

  Celia snorted. An indelicate and unladylike sound, which Hazel enjoyed immensely coming from one as lovely as Celia. “Hardly perfect. First of all, he’s not even from the West Coast. He’s from New York. Queens! And he can’t pronounce Nevada properly, which grates on my ears even though he’s lived there for something like eight years. And he just moved up here because he wants to help keep Lake Celeste pristine. After he did that thing with the Truckee River and Monica Lopez, he fell in love with the place. Which means, he’s just like all the other people who move in and fall in love, and you know, ruin it,” she said and chewed on her bottom lip.

  They’d reached the beach by then, and Hazel heard the lapping waves on the shore of Lake Celeste. The half-full moon hung in the sky, and a few white fluffy clouds were illuminated around it. The Milky Way and all of the surrounding stars twinkled and reflected in the surface of Lake Celeste, and everything was sparkling and silver and blessedly cool.

  Their shoes crunched through the rough sand. And Hazel was happy to be talking about something that wasn’t related to death in some way. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  A new beginning.

  She’d never seen Celia like this before. Usually, she mooned over her first dates. Complaining was something different, and Hazel had a notion that it was actually a good thing. “So he’s not perfect because he can’t pronounce Nevada properly, and he has the audacity to want to live here? Next to the amazing Lake Celeste in the charming mountain town of Cedar Valley? Shocker!”

  Celia shook her head. “And he’s a lawyer. Even if he says he wants to protect the environment and everything. Still. He works all the time.”

  “You work all the time,” Hazel reminded her.

  Celia snorted again. “Exactly why it wouldn’t work. My mom setting me up with someone busy, and I’m busy and–”

  “Colton and I are both busy, but we see each other plenty,” Hazel said.

  “And you also work together a lot, which is great. But I’m not sure a lawyer wants to get up at dawn to make bagels with me.” It was such a practical thing to say; it sounded more like Esther than Celia.

  “Well, you don’t have to work together to make time for each other. If you want to, that is,” Hazel said.

  As they reached the reception tent, Celia tore her arm away from Hazel’s and marched to one of the tables.

  Nothing had changed since Hazel had last been there, and the crime scene tape was in place around the wedding party’s table.

  Celia plucked a flower from one of the centerpieces, a red rose, and took a long sniff of it. “You’re right. I’m nitpicking because it was too perfect. It felt like—like I’d known him my whole life and we were simply catching up with each other. Which is ridiculous. I just met him, and he has to have flaws. He probably snores or picks his teeth,” she said and wrinkled her nose.

  Hazel laughed and searched for her tripod. There—in the corner. Without the flashlight, she wouldn’t have found it. She was glad Michael had texted her that he’d accidentally left one behind. The tripods weren’t cheap.

  “Now I know why you got so annoyed with me about Sheriff Cross. Everyone has flaws—it’s whether you see them as a flaw or an asset, and if you can learn to live with it.”

  Celia smiled. “Exactly. But, no offense, Colton does have actual personality flaws. That smirk for one. It’s cute, up until it’s grating.”

  Hazel shrugged. “It’s whether you see them as a flaw or an asset, or if you can learn to live with it. Do you want me to find Marcus’s personality flaws and point them out to you? Because I think you’re doing it pretty well on your own.” She was sure Celia rolled her eyes, even if she didn’t see her best friend do it. “So, are you going to see him again?”

  Celia shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t set up anything, but my mom probably will, which is so embarrassing. You know he went out to dinner with my mom in Reno? He treated her on the way up here. He even picked her up from the airport. She didn’t ask me to pick her up; she asked her friend’s lawyer’s son to do it. Can you believe her?”

  Hazel scanned the room, a sudden thought popping into her head. “Well, she probably thought you’d be busy with the café, so she’d have someone else do it. It’s actually pretty considerate. And she knows what it’s like to be a single woman running a bus
iness. Can you blame her?”

  Celia pinched her lips together. “You’re sticking up for her too? Next time your mom comes up with some silly idea about ghosts, I’m going to back her a hundred percent; just so you know what it feels like.”

  Hazel laughed. “Okay. She should’ve asked you because you’re her daughter, and you should’ve taken time off work to run to Reno and pick her up from the airport. Better?”

  Celia gave a single nod. “Yes. Did you find what you were looking for? You have a tripod in your hands.”

  It was Hazel’s turn to wrinkle her nose. “Yeah, I found the tripod, but I got an idea. You mind helping me look for something real quick? If we don’t find it in ten minutes, we can both go home and collapse. I promise.”

  Celia gave a weary sigh, but nodded nonetheless. “Of course. It’s not like I have to be up to provide breakfast for the wedding guests now. So what are we looking for?”

  “A cell phone. The newest iPhone. The bride’s is missing.”

  Celia’s eyes widened. “So you want to find it? Do you think it has something to do with her killer?”

  Hazel shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s just suspicious. According to everyone else, her phone was glued to her at all times. And someone saw her tuck it into her bodice right before the ceremony.”

  They both checked under tables and through the plates and glasses that littered the tops of them as well.

  Hazel stumbled across a few items that she would’ve classified as lost. A toy car, someone’s cufflinks, even a pair of shoes. She wondered who those belonged to, but she didn’t find the phone.

  With a heavy sigh, she turned to head back to the inn.

  As they were stepping out of the tent, a dim light near the shore caught her attention. It wasn’t the bright gleam of an LED penlight, like hers, but the dull glow of a screen.

  A phone.

  “Who’s that?” Celia said in a hushed whisper.

  Hazel shrugged. She wasn’t sure if they should approach or eavesdrop, though with the flashlight shining in front of them, it’s not like they were well hidden.

  The figure was some distance off, perhaps a hundred feet or more, and the person turned from the lake and walked back toward the inn.