by Meg London
“But the police—” Arabella stopped and put a hand to her mouth. “It can’t be another murder. Things like this don’t happen in our little town. Why, it was only recently I even started locking my front door.”
“I wonder what happened.” Emma chewed her bottom lip. “As a new volunteer, maybe I should go over there and see if they need any help?”
“Great idea! Sylvia and I can handle the shop. You go get the scoop!”
* * *
THERE was only one police car in the lot at Sunny Days when Emma got there. She wondered if Sylvia had been exaggerating the scene earlier that morning. Emma had meant to head to Sunny Days right away, but Sweet Nothings had suddenly gotten busy, and she’d ended up staying until after lunch when things quieted down again.
She noticed a familiar station wagon in the far right corner of the lot and wasn’t surprised when she ran into Liz in the lobby.
“Emma.” Liz grabbed her by the arm. “The police have been here all morning. I came to check on Dad and make sure everything is okay.”
“Is he on the same floor—”
“No. He’s in assisted living, and I gather the police have been up on the skilled nursing floor. Still, I was worried.”
“Sylvia came in this morning positively bursting with the news.”
“I do suppose it’s more exciting than hearing about everyone’s grandkids, or worse, their hemorrhoids.”
Emma laughed. “Let’s see if Crystal is in her office. Perhaps she can tell us what’s going on.”
They approached the closed door with the sign Office on the front. Emma knocked briskly, and they waited for a response.
Nothing.
Liz put her ear to the door. “I don’t hear anything. Either Crystal isn’t in there, or she’s taking a break and is ignoring us.” She tried the door handle, but it was locked.
They started down the hallway toward the activity room. All apartment doors were shut, and it was very quiet. They peered through the glass into the activity room, but it was empty.
Liz looked at her watch. “They must all be napping after their lunch.”
They heard a noise coming from the end of the corridor and turned in that direction. Mrs. Decker came around the corner, her cane thumping the ground indignantly with every step. Light coming from the windows lining the hall shone through her halo of white hair, making it look even more transparent than usual.
She stomped toward Emma and Liz, her mouth moving before she even got there.
“They’re trying to murder us in our beds! You’ve got to get me out of here.” She plucked at Emma’s sleeve.
“I’m sure they’re doing nothing of the kind,” Emma said gently. “Why don’t you go back to your room and get some rest?”
“I know for a fact that someone has been murdered. The police are here, aren’t they?” Mrs. Decker punctuated her sentence with several thumps from her cane.
“Just because the police are here—”
“Someone on the nursing floor has been murdered,” Mrs. Decker insisted. “I saw it with my own two eyes. They wheeled her out a couple of hours ago, and then suddenly we have the police going over the place with a fine-tooth comb.” She glared at Emma and Liz as if daring them to disagree.
“Mrs. Decker!” someone called from down the hall.
Eloise Montgomery was floating down the hall in a purple silk caftan. She motioned toward Mrs. Decker. “Come on, Mrs. Decker. Let’s get you back to your room.”
“Thinks she runs the place,” Mrs. Decker muttered under her breath. She shook off Eloise’s arm and obligingly turned around and thumped her way back down the corridor toward her room.
“What nonsense has she been filling you with?” Eloise asked when she came abreast of Emma and Liz.
“She seems to think someone’s been murdered,” Emma said.
Eloise rolled her wide-set blue eyes. “If that useless Crystal Davis would come out of her office and handle things, absurd rumors like that wouldn’t be spreading around.” Eloise fiddled with the large pendant she wore from a silk cord around her neck. “I do hope they hire another administrator soon. I gather that Crystal’s thrown her hat into the ring, but if anything, this whole episode certainly proves she isn’t worthy of the position.”
“Well, we didn’t get anything new from her,” Liz said to Emma as Eloise continued on her journey down the corridor.
“I’m not so sure. What if Crystal has been after Jessica’s job for a while? Maybe she decided to take matters into her own hands and make it easier by getting rid of Jessica?”
“Could be.” Liz punched the up button on the elevator.
The fourth floor was quiet with several medication carts parked outside of the residents’ rooms. Emma didn’t immediately see any police but then caught a glimpse of Detective Walker at the end of the floor. He had his notebook out and appeared to be writing something down.
“There’s Detective Walker. I’m sure he can tell us something.”
Walker looked up as they approached, and there was no mistaking the admiring light in his eyes. Liz poked Emma surreptitiously, and Emma shot her a dirty look.
Emma started to introduce herself, but Walker interrupted her.
“I do remember you. From Sweet Nothings, right?”
Emma could feel Liz’s gaze on her, but she refused to acknowledge it. “Yes. You have a good memory.”
“You’re not easily forgotten, ma’am.” Walker tipped an imaginary hat in Emma’s direction.
“We were wondering if you could tell us what’s going on. I have a friend who lives here, and Liz’s father”—she indicated Liz with a nod of her head—“is downstairs in assisted living.”
“There’s no cause for alarm. Don’t worry.”
“But what’s happened?” Emma asked.
Walker ran his hands through his short, dark hair. “A resident took ill, and we’re making sure the correct protocol is followed,” Walker answered evasively.
Emma had to stop herself from snorting. Walker’s response was so obviously designed to put them off. But she could tell by the look on his face that they weren’t going to get any further.
“I do hope you ladies have a nice day. Mighty fine weather we’re having.” Walker seemed reluctant to leave.
Liz grabbed Emma by the arm and all but goose-stepped her toward the door. “Did you believe that?” she asked as they walked away.
Emma shook her head. “No, he’s quoting the party line. Which makes me more suspicious that something is going on.”
“Did you see the way he looked at you?” Liz glanced at Emma out of the corner of her eye.
Emma felt her face get hot.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” Liz warned.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw Brian on Sunday after his date with you, and he was walking on air.”
“What do you mean?” Emma stood stock-still in the middle of the hallway.
“I mean, he obviously had a fantastic time. I’m assuming you did, too?” She looked at Emma.
“Yes…yes, I did,” Emma stammered. She remembered Brian’s kiss and hoped the memory wasn’t visible on her face.
“I don’t want to see Brian getting his heart broken. He’s finally happy again.” Liz put her hands on Emma’s shoulders. “You do like him, don’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, I do.”
Liz ducked her head. “You probably think I’m being overprotective, but he was so hurt when he came back from Nashville, it almost broke my heart.”
Emma felt as if her heart had escaped from her chest and was soaring high in the air. So their kiss had obviously meant as much to Brian as it had to her.
“Wait.” Liz grabbed Emma’s arm again. “Is that Crystal?” She pointed down the hall.
“It looks like her.” Emma squinted as the figure retreated into the distance.
“Let’s see if we can catch up with her and pry some information out of her.”
; They were about to go after Crystal when they heard the sound of a cough coming from behind them and Sylvia’s friend Earl walked up to them.
“Good afternoon, ladies. You here for the circus?”
“Things appear to have calmed down,” Emma noted.
Earl smoothed a finger over his handlebar mustache. “They have. That they have. Place was swarming with cops earlier, but they seem to have finished their business here.”
“What happened? All we could find out was that a nursing resident had been taken to the hospital. I wouldn’t think that that would warrant having the police out.”
“You’re right.” Earl’s watery blue eyes bugged slightly. “But there’s more to it than that.”
“How do you know?”
“My great-nephew just joined the force. He was at the station when the call came in. Of course, I had to pry it out of him.” Earl laughed. “Applied the old thumb screws.” And he laughed even louder.
Liz sighed somewhat impatiently and glanced at her watch.
“What did happen?” Emma prompted.
Earl smoothed his mustache again. “A nursing resident did take ill, like they’ve been telling us. Ambulance came and took her to the hospital. Nothing very exciting in that. Happens all the time. But then a couple of hours later the police arrived. No one would tell us what was going on, so I got Gordon on the phone, and he filled me in.” He leaned closer to Emma and Liz. “I haven’t told this to anyone else, so it’s best if you keep it under your hats. Turns out they got the old gal to the hospital and began running their tests. She’s unconscious—in some kind of coma. And what does the doctor discover?”
By now, Emma and Liz were tense with anticipation.
“The doctor discovers that someone tried to smother the poor old dear!”
LIZ followed Emma back to Sweet Nothings, where they found the shop empty of customers and Arabella and Sylvia chatting with Bitsy over some banana cupcakes.
“Did you save some for us?” Emma said when she spied the white Sprinkles box.
“Of course.” Bitsy opened the top and took out two cupcakes.
“Mmm.” Emma licked a bit of frosting off her finger. “These are delicious. What kind of frosting is this?”
“Cream cheese.”
“What is the news at Sunny Days?” Arabella leaned her elbows on the counter eagerly.
“Yeah, shoot.” Sylvia eased onto the love seat, stuck out her legs and rotated her ankles.
Emma watched her with concern. Sometimes she worried that Sylvia was working too much—it was hard being on your feet all day. But she also knew that Sylvia would rather be working than sitting in her apartment.
“Did you talk to Crystal Davis?” Arabella popped the last bit of her cupcake in her mouth.
Emma shook her head.
“No, she was hiding in her office,” Liz said.
Arabella tilted her head quizzically.
“We knocked on the office door, but she didn’t answer. Later we saw her sneaking into the hall when she thought no one was looking. She practically ran the other way when she saw us coming,” Emma explained.
Arabella laughed.
“That girl is less than useless,” Sylvia complained.
“But we ran into your friend, Earl.” Emma looked at Sylvia. “He called his nephew who is in the police department and got a few details at least.”
“Well don’t keep us in suspense,” Sylvia grumbled.
Emma explained about the nursing resident being taken to the hospital and the doctor discovering that someone had attempted to smother her.
“This is too much.” Arabella slumped against the counter. “First Jessica Scott and now this poor woman.” She looked at Sylvia, then at Emma and Liz. “Do you think the two incidents are related?”
Emma shrugged. “I can’t imagine how. Jessica was killed at our trunk show, so the person responsible must have been at the party.” She shivered.
Liz finished the last bite of her cupcake. “Someone had to have substituted the poisonous flower for the one Bitsy originally put on the cupcake. I know I didn’t pick any poisonous flowers by mistake.”
“And I only used the ones Liz brought me,” Bitsy said. Her expression darkened. “I’ve heard from some friends that the police have been around asking questions about me and Jessica when we were in college.” Bitsy stifled a sob. “What if they find out what happened between us when we were rushing? They’re bound to think I had something to do with her death.”
“Oh, my dear, you needn’t worry,” Arabella said soothingly. “This new detective, what was his name?” She looked at Emma.
“Bradley Walker.”
“Detective Walker. He seems much more on the ball than poor old Chuck Reilly. He’s bound to discover the real culprit in due time.”
“I hope you’re right.” Liz’s face turned ashen. “I’m still the most logical suspect.”
“No!” Emma declared. “Someone at that party is responsible, and it’s not you, Liz, or you, Bitsy.”
“But how did that foxglove flower get on the cupcake that Jessica ate?” Sylvia said from her perch on the love seat.
“We know neither Liz nor Bitsy had anything to do with it,” Emma said firmly. “Therefore, someone else had to replace one of the harmless decorative flowers with the foxglove.” Emma began to pace back and forth. She stopped, closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
“I can’t exactly imagine anyone carrying foxglove flowers around in their purse,” Arabella said.
“No.” Emma scrunched up her face. “But Deirdre has a garden. What if she has foxglove growing and someone noticed it? It would be easy enough to slip outside when no one is looking, pick one of the flowers and put it in place of one of the edible ones Bitsy used to decorate her cupcakes.”
“Foxglove is a fairly showy plant, so it’s possible a landscaper might have used it in the Porters’ garden,” Liz said. “We need to ask Deirdre.”
Arabella cleared her throat. “That might sound as if we’re accusing her.” She frowned. “Deirdre’s been a good customer. I would hate to offend her.”
Emma and Liz looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. “We could sneak in,” they said almost in unison.
Sylvia gave a throaty chuckle. “What fun. I’m sorry I’d slow you down too much to come along.”
“Same here,” Arabella said wistfully. “Will you go along, Bitsy?”
“I’d love to. Hayley can mind the shop for me for a few hours. She’s finally mastered making change and replacing the tape in the cash register.” Bitsy rolled her eyes.
“When should we go?” Liz began to gather her things together.
“I wonder if Deirdre still takes riding lessons out at Skip Clark’s farm?” Arabella brushed some crumbs off the countertop.
“I can find out.” Emma peeked at the cupcakes remaining in Bitsy’s box but then decided she really didn’t need another one. “Mabel, the waitress at the Coffee Klatch, has a younger sister who works on Skip’s farm. She might know.”
* * *
EMMA was putting away the lovely camisoles and panties that had arrived from New York earlier, and which gave her such a pang of conscience, when she heard the front door of Sweet Nothings open. Even before she raised her head, a cloud of very expensive-smelling perfume wafted in her direction. Emma looked up to see Marjorie Porter standing in the middle of the shop. She was wearing a silk shirtwaist dress and had one of those handbags that cost thousands of dollars slung over her arm. As usual, her ash-blond French twist was perfect, without a hair out of place. It didn’t matter how hard the wind blew; it knew better than to mess up Marjorie’s hairdo.
Emma smiled. “Marjorie. So nice to see you.” She edged out from behind the counter and advanced with her hand out.
Marjorie smiled briefly and barely touched Emma’s hand. “Is Arabella around? I wanted to have a word.”
“Of course.” Emma moved back behind the counter and stuck her head into the
stockroom.
“Aunt Arabella?”
Arabella emerged with a quizzical look on her face that quickly changed to a practiced smile. “Marjorie. How lovely to see you. What can we do for you today?”
Emma watched, barely suppressing a bubble of amusement. She knew Arabella couldn’t stand Marjorie, but you would be hard-pressed to tell by the act she was putting on. Curious, Emma edged closer to the pair and kept her ears open.
“It’s a shame that your lovely trunk show at my daughter-in-law’s was ruined by that woman and her untimely death.”
Emma listened as Arabella made the appropriately soothing noises.
“I was hoping,” Marjorie said as she smiled coyly, swinging her imported bag from the crook of her elbow, “that you might consider putting on another trunk show. I know the members of my garden club would love it.”
Arabella gasped and put both hands against her chest. “Really? We’d be honored, Marjorie.”
Emma bit her lip and barely managed to stifle a chuckle. Arabella was really laying it on.
“But I’m thinking,” Marjorie continued. “Most of the women in our group are…” She dropped her voice. “…middle-aged. Could you possibly do something on the new shape wear? I must confess, we’re all curious about it,” she said conspiratorially, patting her own slightly rounded tummy.
“Of course,” Arabella said briskly. “That’s a wonderful idea. There are so many options these days. Not like in our day,” she said in a near whisper.
Marjorie stiffened. “I’m not so sure your day and mine are exactly the same.”
Arabella nodded diplomatically as if to say touché. She gestured toward Emma. “Emma, Mrs. Porter has had the most brilliant idea.”
Marjorie gave a tiny smile and preened like a peacock showing off its feathers.
“We’re going to do a trunk show for her garden club,” Arabella said in a lowered voice, as if the paparazzi were hovering on their doorstep.
Marjorie rolled her eyes heavenward. “I promise you”—she struck her chest with her open palm—“that there won’t be another…incident…like the one that occurred at my poor, dear daughter-in-law’s.” She shook her head, and the very tip of her twist oscillated slightly. “I really do think that someone had it in for that poor woman.”