Purrfect Poison

by Louise Lynn

Sheriff Cross nodded slowly. “I remember that. I have some friends in Reno, and they weren’t happy. They thought it was an inside job, right?”

  Candace Stratford graced them with an elegant shrug. “Probably. But no matter what kind of connections Monica had, the Reno PD wasn’t going to let a news anchor in on a live bust. They’d made the real bust the day before, so the footage caught was a reenactment for her sake. But the thing is, they’d shot some b-roll after the official bust. They had all the drugs on camera. That’s what tape 206 is. Only…” Candace looked at her feet.

  Hazel noticed she wore a pair of heels, and she didn’t understand how the woman could stand it. “Only what?”

  Candace Stratford swallowed. “Only the recording is gone. It’s not really a tape, but we still call the files that. It disappeared a few months ago. The Reno PD came looking for it, and no one can find it. We thought it was a filing error. All our news videos are kept on individual hard drives in a storage room, so they don’t clutter up our computers, but now…” She didn’t have to finish that sentence.

  Hazel looked at Sheriff Cross, and he nodded. “Maybe Mace Daily had the hard drive all along?”

  “And Monica Lopez found out,” Hazel finished. “But why take her phone?”

  “If he took her phone. There’s no proof he did. Yet,” Sheriff Cross said.

  Candace Stratford let out a hollow laugh. “Mace Daily? You really think Mace would be behind this? Listen, I already told you he can barely read from the teleprompter. He’s too stupid to do anything like this,” she said and crossed her arms.

  Regardless of that, the woman followed them to Mace’s door, and Sheriff Cross knocked.

  “Mr. Daily, it’s the sheriff. We need to have a word.”

  Nothing but silence greeted them.

  After several moments, Sheriff Cross frowned. He sent one of his deputies down to get the key, and Charlene returned to them with a spare glinting in her hand. “This is quite uncharacteristic of my inn. We value privacy here,” she said, but handed over the key.

  “You value a murderer’s privacy? Because that’s what you’re sticking up for,” Sheriff Cross reminded her.

  She scowled, and didn’t respond.

  Anthony Ray darted forward and scratched on the door.

  The key slid easily into the lock, and the door swung open without any resistance. Hazel wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it was more than that. Then Sheriff Cross stepped in with a few of his deputies, and nobody said anything for a long moment.

  “Well?” Hazel tried to peek over the men crowding doorframe. She hoped they didn’t catch Mace Daily emerging from the bath or something equally unpleasant.

  Anthony Ray yanked on his leash, his ears perked.

  The deputies stepped back, and Hazel squeezed past them.

  Sheriff Cross crouched over a body in one of the inn’s plush bathrobes. Mace Daily’s handsome face was twisted in pain and had an unhealthy blue tinge to it.

  His eyes met hers. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say Mace Daily isn’t our killer, because it looks like someone killed him.”

  Behind her, Candace let out a shocked gasp, and Hazel moved further into the room.

  Mace’s tongue was a deep purple, and peeked out of his pouty lips. Foam surrounded them. Next to him lay a plate of half-eaten breakfast. Anthony Ray sniffed it, but didn’t try to take a bite. An empty cup of coffee sat close by.

  “Do you smell bitter almonds?” Hazel asked and tentatively sniffed the food.

  Sheriff Cross gave her a withering look, but took a deep breath nonetheless. “The last thing I want to do is smell a dead body, but—yeah. Bitter almonds.”

  “Poison. Again.”

  Sheriff Cross let out a huff. “Looks like it.”

  Bile rose in Hazel’s throat, but she swallowed it and took a step back. “I’ll go get my Pentax.”

  She didn’t say the one thing bouncing around in her head now.

  If Mace Daily wasn’t the killer, who was?

  Chapter 17

  There was no shocked outcry at the news of Mace Daily’s death, Hazel noticed.

  She photographed the scene without incident, although she did wish she hadn’t eaten quite so much trifle and waffles that morning—or drank so many lattes.

  Once she was done, and the pictures had been submitted to Sheriff Cross, she glanced at the faces peeking out of their rooms and whispering amongst themselves.

  Another death. And so close to the first one. Hazel had little doubt it was the same killer, and Sheriff Cross agreed with that assessment. It also looked as if whoever had done it had come in after Mace perished and tossed through his things. Either that, or Mace was a slob.

  His suitcase was open and the clothes strewn about. They found his phone easily, though Monica’s was not with it. That meant, either he didn’t have Monica’s cell to begin with, or real the killer took it.

  Hazel feared it was the latter, and if that were the case, they might never see it again.

  The rest of the morning, Sheriff Cross and his deputies questioned everyone about Mace Daily’s death. Hazel was only there for the server who brought the deadly food to the news anchor’s room.

  It was a young man around the same age as Michael, in his early twenties, and his cheeks looked permanently pink. He shook his head wildly. “I didn’t poison the food. And I wasn’t even working yesterday when the bride died, so it has nothing to do with me. I picked it up from the kitchen and delivered it like I’m supposed to. That’s all.”

  Sheriff Cross pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did you set it down anywhere? Get distracted?”

  The server shook his head. “No. Though the dead guy said something about wanting another pot of coffee, and when I came to deliver it, he didn’t answer the door. He just said he didn’t need it anymore, so I left.”

  Sheriff Cross’s gaze met Hazel’s eyes. After the young server left, Hazel chewed on her bottom lip as she thought about what he’d said. “Why would he order more coffee, then not want it?”

  “I’m not sure everyone needs caffeine pumped straight into their bloodstream like you,” Sheriff Cross said with some of his old humor.

  She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “So what do you think?”

  “I think you should check the coffee to see if it was poisoned. Maybe the killer got Mace the extra coffee themselves. But that means it was someone Mace trusted. Someone he’s friendly with. Was friendly with,” Hazel amended the last bit quickly and felt her skin crawl.

  Mace Daily wasn’t great, but did he deserve to be poisoned by a person he trusted? She didn’t think so.

  Sheriff Cross nodded. “It makes sense. The kitchen isn’t locked, so anyone could’ve slipped in there and grabbed some coffee,” he said and let out a weary sigh.

  “Any word on the official poison?” Hazel said and leaned her shoulder against his.

  He nodded. “Your mom was right. Cyanide. And from what they can tell in the lab, it was a crude version. Not refined, so likely it was homemade. With all the missing apricot seeds, I think it’s safe to assume where the poison came from.”

  “Is that all?” she asked and glanced up at him. She could tell by the way his jaw tightened there was something else, and he just hadn’t said yet.

  “There is. They said whoever made it probably needed a degree in chemistry.”

  Hazel wrinkled her brow. “Chemistry? Shouldn’t that be easy to check?”

  “My deputies are looking into it, but nearly a hundred people were on the wedding guest list, so this might take a while. Though it does seem like it should be someone from the station.”

  Hazel nodded. It didn’t make sense for someone to kill Monica who didn’t have any connection to Mace Daily as well. “It sounds like Mace found out what Monica was on to, and it got him killed. Got them both killed,” she said and felt a shudder climb up her spine.

  “And if it’s about those missing video files, this co
uld be drug-related. That would account for the money Monica was flashing.”

  Hazel wrinkled her nose. “Maybe. Do you know if Candace Stratford has a degree in chemistry?”

  He gave an unamused chuckle. “Not yet. But I’ll find out soon enough. You think it’s her?”

  Hazel chewed on her bottom lip. Something wasn’t adding up, but she couldn’t tell what it was. At the moment, Candace did seem like the most likely candidate, now that Mace was dead. “I don’t know. But, both of her news anchors who hinted at big changes at her station got killed? That’s suspicious.”

  “Not to mention those apricot seeds, right?” His eyes got that familiar glint. “I do know this feels a little more complicated than it did originally. And a lot of people aren’t very sorry about Mace.”

  Hazel knew exactly what he meant. She also noted he didn’t mention that his time was quickly running out, but Hazel could see the burden on his shoulders from the way they slumped forward.

  “We’ll figure it out,” she said and grinned at him.

  He nodded. “Let’s hope so. If not, I contacted the Reno PD, and they’re ready to help in any way they can. But still–”

  She could tell what he didn’t say. But if the killer left, there was no saying they’d ever be caught. She pulled out her phone to check the time. “So, we have six and a half more hours.”

  Sheriff Cross let out a snort of unamused laughter and pushed his fingers through his hair. She could tell it was getting to him. His nearly black hair was usually perfectly brushed, but now it was mussed.

  “Yeah. We have eleven and a half hours to solve a double murder. Easy, right?”

  “For you, it should be,” Hazel said with more positivity than she felt. “Just think, once this is done, you can finish signing the papers on your new house and get Violet back. Isn’t the walkthrough this week?”

  He gave her a look that said he wasn’t quite sure if that was a good thing, and Hazel felt a laugh bubble up in her throat.

  “You’re right. And you can join me if you have time. I’m looking forward to getting out of the tiny apartment, and Violet will get her own room now. Although I think she’ll still want to stay with you.”

  Hazel shrugged. “She loves you, even if I’m the cool one. I get to be the cool one because I’m not actually related to her.”

  He nodded and leaned in to give her a quick kiss. “You should go get some lunch. I’ll catch a bite when I can.”

  “I’ll bring you something back. You have anything in mind?”

  He shook his head. “As long as it’s not laced with cyanide, I don’t care.”

  Hazel grinned. “Quiche it is. Oh, that reminds me, have you seen Marcus Banks today?”

  Sheriff Cross consulted his notepad. “No, but he’s in room 113, and one of my deputies talked to him this morning. He doesn’t know anything. Why? You think he’s a suspect?”

  Hazel shook her head. “I hope not. He was Celia’s date yesterday, and he helped Monica bring down a big company. I wonder if he knows anything about the way she works.”

  Sheriff Cross nodded. “Right, I remember you mentioning that. Well, get some lunch and talk to him,” he said and kissed her forehead.

  She nodded. “We’ll solve this case soon. Preferably before dinner.”

  “You’re just saying that so I can cook.”

  Hazel shook her head. “No thanks. You look ready to collapse. But I wouldn’t mind having you over—if you bring pizza.”

  He gave a chuckle of agreement and let Hazel go.

  Marcus Banks wasn’t as easy to track down as Hazel thought he’d be. For one, he wasn’t in his room. None of the other guests seemed to know who he was. In fact, it seemed like Monica and Pablo were the only ones familiar with him.

  Hazel tried to talk to Pablo, but family surrounded him, and his eyes looked red-rimmed and empty. She decided to leave him alone for the moment, and went back to looking for Marcus.

  She was about to call either Celia or Rosalie to get some information about where he could be when her stomach gave a dangerous rumble.

  Right.

  Lunch.

  Her body had to go and remind her it needed energy to function.

  Why couldn’t she live off of coffee?

  She was on her way out of the inn when she noticed an ornate hat perched on a familiar head.

  She turned out to the patio, where the figure wearing the hat sat, and lo and behold, there was Marcus Banks, sitting at one of the patio tables with none other than Rosalie Parks.

  Her hat looked like a floral arrangement had exploded on it, and she wore another perfectly lovely summer garden dress. Next to her, Hazel felt underdressed, but then, she was also trying to solve a murder and not trying to attend any fancy function either.

  “Rosalie? What are you doing here? I thought the inn was closed to anyone who’s not a guest of the wedding this weekend,” she said and stood next to the table.

  Hazel cast a glance at Marcus Banks, who was dressed in a pair of navy slacks and a pale blue shirt. He was so good-looking; he’d be perfect on Celia’s arm. Then she thought of what Stan said earlier. Looks weren’t everything, of course. But they didn’t hurt either.

  “Marcus invited me. And the woman at the front desk didn’t seem to have a problem with it. Hazel, what are you doing here? With the bride dead, I thought the only people around besides guests were the police,” she said and sipped from a cup of iced tea.

  Hazel smelled peppermint on the air, and would’ve enjoyed a nice tall glass of iced tea as well. “It’s a long story. But I was actually looking for Marcus. Do you mind if I borrow him for a moment?”

  Rosalie pierced her with a look that she’d given Hazel ever since Hazel was a child. “I do mind. He invited me out for lunch, and I think I should be able to enjoy it without interruption. However, I don’t mind if you join us,” she said with a warm smile.

  With a sigh, Hazel sat.

  Marcus Banks gave her a friendly nod. “I wish we had more time to talk yesterday. But then everything fell apart.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m terribly sorry about what happened to Monica.”

  Hazel nodded and tried to look sorry as well. It was hard when she had so many questions to ask, and she wasn’t sure if she should do it in front of Celia’s mom or not. But, it looked like Mrs. Parks wasn’t going to give her much of a choice. “I need to speak to you about that. Monica, I mean.”

  “You want to talk about another woman when he had a perfectly fine date with my daughter last night?” Rosalie said and shook her head.

  They hadn’t gotten their food yet, and the waiter came over and looked at them apprehensively.

  In fact, Hazel had noticed all the waitstaff were looking apprehensive lately—probably because they didn’t want to be accused of poisoning anyone. Why anyone wanted to eat in the kitchen when two people died, Hazel couldn’t figure out.

  “I’m good, thanks,” she said with a smile.

  Rosalie shook her head and ordered, then Marcus did the same.

  “It’s not that I want to talk about another woman,” Hazel said as the waiter departed. “But I’m trying to help solve this case. We now have less than four hours to do it.”

  Rosalie shrugged. “Fine. Ask your questions.”

  “I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you. I didn’t know Monica that well, besides our former working relationship.” Marcus smiled tightly.

  “Your working relationship is my only concern. I heard she was extremely secretive, and didn’t tell anyone about what she was working on while she was doing it. We think she may have been killed because of something pertaining to a drug bust in Reno. Did she have anyone in whom she confided? Maybe she told you about this?”

  A frown pulled at Marcus’s lips. “I’m sorry, no. In fact, I hadn’t heard from Monica in well over a year. I remember reading about that bust, but the drugs disappeared. Apparently, all the stuff in the warehouse was worth about two million, and the Reno PD offered a siz
able reward for anyone who could find it.”

  That was new information. “How much was the reward, out of curiosity?”

  “Close to a half a million, why? Planning to look for those missing drugs? They’ve probably been sold on the street by now.” He took a sip of his iced tea.

  “Did Monica keep information somewhere besides her phone?”

  Marcus’s eyes brightened. “We had a cloud drive where we shared information. It was on a remote server, and we could both access it. It seemed like the safest way. If she were smart, she wouldn’t store sensitive information on her phone. If her phone got lost or stolen, she’d be out of everything.”

  Hazel nodded slowly, and kept from looking at Rosalie. She could tell the woman was frowning at them both. Rosalie wanted them to be mooning over Celia, and Hazel made a mental point to do so later. “Do you still have access to the cloud drive?”

  Marcus furrowed his brow and pulled his cell phone out. After a few flicks of the screen, his brown eyes brightened. “It looks like I do. I thought she would change the password, but maybe she forgot.”

  Hazel’s heart thundered in her chest. “Can you give me the password? This may lead us to her killer.”

  Marcus nodded and jotted down both the password and the other information they needed to log into it.

  As Hazel stood to leave, Rosalie put a hand on her arm. “What’s the hurry, Hazel? You haven’t even had a thing to eat.”

  Hazel shook her head. “Another time. I promise. When this is over, we’ll have a nice long talk about how wonderful Celia is. Which reminds me,” she said and leaned across the table, fixing Marcus with her gaze. He blinked at her and raised his shapely brows. “Celia is wonderful and amazing, and my dearest friend in the entire world. If you don’t see that or treat her properly, you don’t deserve her.”

  Marcus smiled slowly. “Well, I only met her yesterday, but I think she’s pretty amazing already. You realize I’m going to ask her on another date, right?” he said it and looked between the two women.

  Rosalie nodded as if it was just a matter of course, and Hazel grinned at him before she turned and trotted away.