Purrfect Poison

by Louise Lynn

  Chapter 18

  Violet popped up as Hazel was exiting the Lakeside Inn, and Hazel blinked. She hadn’t seen the girl in well over an hour, and Anthony Ray wasn’t with her. “Where’s Anthony Ray?”

  “My uncle needed his services. Or, I think he might’ve just been annoyed and wanted some company,” she said with a smile.

  Hazel figured either was a possibility, but as long as Colton had the cat, everything was fine.

  “Did you get lunch?”

  With a sigh, Hazel shook her head, and her stomach gave a loud rumble. “Heading there now, and I probably need your expertise with something,” she said and explained about the cloud drive.

  Violet’s eyes widened. “Did you tell my uncle?”

  “Not yet. Figured he could follow his own leads. The division of labor will help us catch this killer—at least, I hope,” Hazel said more to herself than anyone else.

  It didn’t take long to reach Esther’s bakery, Let Them Eat Cake. By the time Hazel slumped inside, she was ready to devour everything in the display case. To her surprise, there weren’t as many patrons as she would think for a Sunday afternoon, and her stomach sank. Had the town found out about the poisoning and thought Esther was responsible? News spread fast in Cedar Valley, but that fast?

  She hoped not.

  Ruth wasn’t there, so Hazel assumed their parents were babysitting again, which was usual on the weekends.

  Esther gave her sister a tired smile. “Are you here for lunch? I was just about to close for the day. I’m exhausted, and word must’ve gotten around that the cake I decorated killed Monica, because my numbers have been dwindling all day,” she said and pouted.

  Hazel tried to give her a reassuring grin. She thought it wasn’t word getting around; more like Carol Simmons spreading the word to absolve herself. “We’re close to the real killer. And don’t worry, once people find out your cake had absolutely nothing to do with it, your numbers will be booming, and everyone will apologize for thinking you could poison anyone. I hope, anyway.”

  Esther snorted. “Oh, such wonderful words of reassurance. Okay. I’m closing now, so what do you want?” She then filled two glasses with her famous sparkling lemonade.

  Hazel felt her parched mouth water just looking at it. “Whatever quiche you have left and whatever cupcakes you’re willing to give me a discount on,” she said. “And you can close while we’re here. But we do want to use your Wi-Fi for a bit,” Hazel said and motioned to the laptop clutched in Violet’s arms.

  Esther’s lips pursed, but she nodded. She usually didn’t like to close the bakery when people were inside, because it made potential patrons annoyed. Solving a murder was a little bit more important than a few people’s annoyance, Hazel thought.

  Once they’d settled down with their food, Esther sat with them, and Violet typed on the laptop while Hazel filled everyone in.

  “A cloud drive? Like Dropbox?” Esther said and dug into her lunch.

  Hazel nodded around an oversized bite of quiche. She finished half of one, and was sorely tempted to eat another. But she needed to bring Colton something, so she decided not to. “I’m hoping she stored some sensitive information on it, or else we’ll be back to square one.”

  “That other news anchor is dead too? Whoever did this really had a serious issue with those two, huh? And you think it’s the station manager?”

  Hazel shrugged. “I don’t know. If she has a degree in chemistry, it’s possible. And she didn’t seem to like either of them very much. But that doesn’t mean she’s the culprit. I’m not sure what she had to gain.”

  “Maybe she just wanted to revamp her station with some cheaper news anchors, and thought this was the easiest way to get rid of the other ones,” Esther said and took a bite of a cupcake.

  Which, in itself, was surprising. While Esther baked almost all the time, she wasn’t one to partake in her own goods. Not frequently. She let other people do that. It was probably how she stayed slimmer than Hazel, but Hazel would rather have had a cupcake than a tiny waist.

  Suddenly, Violet squeaked, and her blue eyes widened. “I think I found those missing files Ms. Stratford told you about. It says ‘tape 206’ here, so I’m guessing this is it.” She turned the computer around so they both could see the screen.

  It looked like some kind of video file, and with her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest, Hazel clicked play.

  The video started off showing a darkened room that looked like a warehouse. There was a door open somewhere, and natural light filtered in. However, it was fuzzy, and not fit for a news broadcast, Hazel thought.

  The camera slowly panned over a number of oversized crates, and off-camera someone whistled.

  “Are these really full of drugs? This is Scarface level crazy,” A male voice said.

  “This is the b-roll, so shut up,” a woman said, and it sounded suspiciously like Monica. “Let’s get a shot inside one of these. Otherwise, it just looks like a bunch of crates that could have anything in them.”

  The video stopped for a moment and then picked up with Monica in the frame, a crowbar in her hands as she broke open the top of one of the crates.

  The off-camera male voice whistled a second time. “Looking good, babe. Is that—what is that?”

  “Methamphetamine. There’s enough in here to kill half of Reno. It’s worth about two million,” Monica said to the camera, her eyes wide in the dim light.

  “That’s a whole lot of money,” the man said. His voice was achingly familiar, but Hazel couldn’t quite place it. With the number of cracks he kept making, and calling her ‘babe,’ it seemed like it could be Pablo, her soon to be husband.

  “Yeah, and this is one amazing story. With this, I’m not going to be stuck at KQTV anymore,” she said with an arrogant smile that fit her all too well.

  The cameraman went back to panning the warehouse, and he got a few better shots of the crates with the drugs inside before the video stopped.

  “Is that it?” Hazel asked and blinked.

  Esther scrunched her nose and took a long sip of her lemonade. “That doesn’t seem particularly incriminating. She had some files on a cloud drive, so?”

  Hazel shrugged. “Yeah, it doesn’t make sense.”

  Violet finished her cupcake and brushed the chocolate crumbs from her lips before she spoke. “Oh, there’s another file here. It’s called ‘tape 206-B’,” she said and brought up that file.

  Looking at the screen, Hazel realized it was the same sort of video file as the first.

  Another tape 206?

  Well, if they wanted to find out what was on it, they’d have to watch it.

  She pressed play, and the video seemed the same at first. It was a panning shot of the crates in the warehouse, going over the drugs that were there, but whoever was holding the camera this time wasn’t quite that steady or as tall. The rest of the warehouse was draped in heavy shadows, so it was impossible to see the back.

  But, as the camera panned, it glinted on something reflective—something small that shone briefly back at the camera and then was gone.

  A few minutes after the video started, it stopped.

  “That was even less incriminating than the first one, if that’s possible,” Esther said into her lemonade. “Not sure how you’re supposed to absolve me of a poisoning case with this kind of evidence. No offense.”

  Hazel frowned. “There has to be something here, otherwise, why hide it?”

  Violet took a quick sip of her lemonade and nearly choked on it. “Oh, I had an idea. What if this wasn’t about some big news story? What if Monica is the one who stole the drugs?”

  “What?” Hazel said and blinked. As soon as the idea was broached, it made way too much sense.

  Violet nodded and shoved her dark hair behind her ears. “Think about it. She knew where they were, and Uncle Colton said the police thought it was an inside job. So, what if it wasn’t inside the police department, but inside KQTV. And then, aft
er she stole them, she was going to come forward with where they were, like she found them, and collect that reward money. It makes sense… kind of… right?”

  Esther nodded slowly. “Actually, it does. Didn’t you say she was arguing with someone on the phone? Maybe that’s what it was about,” Esther pointed out.

  “Yeah, that could be it, but, we don’t know who she was arguing with because the phone is still missing. And the warrant for the phone records hasn’t come through since it’s the weekend. But, it’s a good deduction whoever Monica was arguing with killed her.”

  With those thoughts in mind, they needed to get back to the inn and share this information with Sheriff Cross.

  Chapter 19

  After the commotion at the inn over the last two days, Hazel expected it to be calm when she returned. That wasn’t the case. As she took in the chaos out front, she forlornly thought of the quiche, cupcake, and thermos of lemonade waiting for Sheriff Cross. It didn’t look like he’d get to enjoy them anytime soon.

  Several of the guests stood outside, including Monica’s family, and argued with deputies.

  “What’s going on?” Hazel asked as she climbed out of her truck with Violet.

  The girl shrugged, and Deputy Simmons threw them both a harassed look. “A riot is about to break out, it feels like,” he grumbled. Then he went back to trying to usher everyone back inside.

  “You can’t do this to us. We have to get to the airport, or we’ll miss our flight,” several people cried.

  Hazel looked at her phone, and her heart sank.

  It was after three PM. If they wanted to get to Reno for an evening flight, they had to leave now. That didn’t give her nearly enough time, and she hadn’t even shared this new information with Sheriff Cross.

  “Where is the sheriff?” she asked the deputy.

  He pointed toward the inn, which wasn’t helpful in the least, but she let it go and rushed past the crowd.

  She found Sheriff Cross easily enough, standing in the lobby with Candace Stratford. To Hazel’s surprise, he had the woman in cuffs, and he was reading Ms. Stratford her Miranda rights.

  “What’s this?” Hazel asked.

  “A massive oversight of justice, is what! You can bet my lawyer is going to fry you,” Candace said to the man behind her.

  Sheriff Cross ignored her comment. “She has a Master’s in chemistry, isn’t that right, Ms. Stratford? And we found the equipment used to make the poison in her room. Anthony Ray lead me right to it, in fact. Hidden under the bed.”

  The sheriff held Anthony Ray’s leash in his hand, and Hazel took it from him. The cat gave her that smug, satisfied look he got more often than not—especially when he’d just caught a mouse, or found a hidden bag of catnip and left the mess for Hazel to clean up.

  “It was planted there. I told you I haven’t been in my room since this morning. After Mace got killed, I’ve been on the phone by the beach all day trying to find two replacement anchors. Now this? You have got to be kidding me,” she spit.

  Hazel watched the sheriff lead Ms. Stratford away, and looked at Violet’s gaping face. She squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “Go with them and show them that new evidence we found. But leave the computer,” she said and took the laptop from the girl’s arms. “And check the rest of the guests who also worked at the station for any degree involving chemistry, or work that would use it.”

  “You don’t think it’s her?” Violet asked.

  Hazel didn’t want to second-guess Sheriff Cross, but he’d been wrong before.

  However, she didn’t understand how Ms. Stratford was tied to the drugs, especially if Monica was the one who stole them, as Violet hypothesized.

  “Tell your uncle what you thought, okay? I want to have another look at that file.”

  Hazel watched as the hubbub followed Sheriff Cross outside.

  He moved Candace toward his SUV, and the deputies started letting people leave.

  Hazel’s gut turned to stone.

  That might not be a good idea, she thought, especially if Candace Stratford didn’t do it.

  But she couldn’t force the sheriff to change his mind unless she had the evidence to back it up. Evidence that was stronger than finding chemistry equipment used to make cyanide in Ms. Stratford’s room.

  She shook her head. The woman didn’t seem like the type who would leave that sort of evidence lying around, even if she was the killer.

  Monica’s family shouted obscenities at Candace, and Pablo stared at her, blinking blankly.

  “Why?” he asked, but the woman didn’t answer.

  Stan Baker patted Pablo’s shoulder, and everyone watched the sheriff drive away.

  That stone in her gut grew, and Hazel turned inside.

  She’d downloaded the files from the cloud drive onto her laptop, so she didn’t need Wi-Fi to access them anymore. But it was hard to find an out of the way place at the inn. Especially with everyone rushing around mumbling about who killed Monica and Mace, while trying to check out at the same time.

  With a sigh, Hazel gave up and marched toward the beach with Anthony Ray trotting beside her. The cat only got distracted by a group of chatty Stellar jays once while on their way. Hazel let him have his fun. The birds, of course, got away unscathed.

  The tents were still set up, and Hazel headed toward them. She needed a place to sit with the computer alone, and the tables there would be as good as any.

  The yellow and black crime scene tape fluttered in the breeze, and she took in the majesty of the brilliant blue Lake Celeste glimmering in the late afternoon sun before her. The water sloshed against the shore—the breeze wasn’t strong enough to whip it into a frenzy—and the summer sunshine warmed her skin.

  All in all, it would be a perfect way for anyone to end a day in Cedar Valley.

  However, Monica Lopez didn’t get to experience it.

  That stone in her stomach felt about five hundred pounds. She’d suspected Candace Stratford before, so what had changed?

  Surely not because Sheriff Cross arrested her. The fact that Candace had a degree in chemistry was incriminating. So was finding the implements to make poison hidden under her bed. While they hadn’t always seen eye to eye on every case, she trusted Colton’s judgment. He wouldn’t have made detective at such a young age in San Francisco if he hadn’t been good at his job.

  But, he’d been wrong before; so had she.

  Something about Candace Stratford being the killer just didn’t add up—especially if this was about tape 206 and the missing drugs. Hazel needed more information and more time to figure it out, and she just ran out of time.

  What Violet had surmised made more sense. That Monica or the man she was with had taken the drugs. That meant she had to find out who accompanied Monica, and she had a sneaking suspicion of the man’s identity.

  For once, Hazel hoped she was wrong.

  Heart pounding, she ducked into the tents and blinked.

  Rosalie sat at one of the tables farthest from where the crime scene tape made a noticeable barrier. She had a pitcher of iced tea with her, and a few clean glasses sat beside them. “Hazel, I didn’t think I’d be getting any company, but I brought extras just in case,” she said and motioned for Hazel to join her.

  “What are you doing here?” Hazel asked as she sat down.

  Anthony Ray sniffed Rosalie’s shoes. They were shiny green patent leather with a sensible one-inch heel and a strap around the ankle. They were beautiful and probably custom-made, knowing Rosalie Park’s taste. The dress was no doubt custom-made as well. And she assumed Rosalie herself made it.

  The woman had been a seamstress in her youth, and now made all of her own clothes and most of Celia’s. Her taste was impeccable. Aside from the hat, Hazel thought.

  “Well, I thought it was a shame to let such a beautiful set up go to waste. Of course, they haven’t cleaned it. But it’s perfect to take in the lake,” Rosalie said.

  Hazel nodded. “So how did your lunch with Ma
rcus go?” she asked to be polite.

  The jumble of thoughts that entered her mind as she walked to the beach was just starting to fall into place, and now she had to contend with Celia’s mother. “Lovely, as usual; he’s such a gentleman. Which, and I mean no offense to people your age, is getting more and more uncommon.”

  Hazel snorted. “You don’t have to tell me twice. After I divorced Dylan, I was pretty sure I’d given up until I met Sheriff Cross and–”

  Rosalie smiled. “Everything just fell into place?”

  Hazel plucked a drooping red rose from the center of the table. Such a waste that each table had one, and now they were all going to be thrown away. “Not quite. More like we couldn’t stand each other. Especially because his stupid, handsome face annoyed me to no end. He was always condescending and…” Hazel shook her head. “But, he’s also passionate, and kind, and wants to solve the problems that come up in town. And Anthony Ray loves him, so that tells me something.”

  Rosalie laughed. “Oh, that reminds me of Walter. When I first met him, I wanted to either wallop him or kiss him. I went for the former, at first. It took him months to convince me to do the latter. But once I did, I have to admit it was perfect. I wish Celia could experience something like that.”

  Hazel glanced around the empty reception tent, and Rosalie let out a heavy sigh. She felt as if she were about to step on the frozen surface of Lake Celeste, and wait for the ice to crack and give way under her feet. “I don’t think Celia has to get married to be happy. I think she’s pretty happy as she is.”

  Rosalie poured Hazel a full glass of iced tea and tutted. “I never said she had to get married to be happy, but I would like to see my little girl have someone to fall back on. I know how difficult it is to run a business without any help. Even when things are going well, and this applies to you too, Miss Hazel. If you have a partner, not necessarily a husband, but someone who can help you out when things get rough or when business drops, you don’t have to work yourself ragged every minute of the day. That’s all I want for her. Though, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be thrilled if she did get engaged. And yes, I have several designs in mind for a gown. If it comes to that.”