A Crime of Poison

by Nancy Haddock

  When Maise announced the festival days’ totals to the Silver Six, all but Eleanor actually whooped with joy.

  “I knew we’d been busy on Saturday, but I never dreamed we sold that much,” Aunt Sherry gushed.

  I grinned, tickled they were so happy. “I don’t know why not. Your shelves were almost bare at the end of the day.”

  Aster nodded. “I remember we restocked what we could, but we had slim pickings on Sunday. We’re going to be working overtime to make more products.”

  I didn’t dampen their enthusiasm by reminding them the expenses came out of those profits. It was enough to see them excited.

  Dab hitched up his slacks, only to have them sink to his hips again. “You know what we should do? We should celebrate. How about going out to eat?”

  Maise looked dismayed. “But I have all that leftover roast. We were going to have hot and cold sandwiches with my macaroni salad.”

  “Which sounds delicious, Maise,” Dab said quickly, “but you deserve a night off, too. What do you say?”

  Into the short silence, Eleanor ventured, “I do believe I could eat pizza.”

  “I heard good things at the hair salon about that new Papa Razzi’s place. The one near the Walmart out toward Magnolia.” Sherry tilted her head at me. “Didn’t you and Eric eat there?”

  “Twice. Goofy name, but they serve some of the best pies I’ve ever had.”

  “I’m in if it’s good old-fashioned American pizza. None of them fancy ingredients for me,” Fred barked.

  “What do you say, Maise?” Aster asked her sister. “Can you handle a cook-and-KP-free night?”

  Maise turned a stern gaze on me. “Does this place make Hawaiian pizza?”

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” I said smartly.

  “With ham or Canadian bacon?”

  “Ham, pineapple, and whatever else you want.”

  She grinned. “Let’s go!”

  • • •

  I felt secure that Amber and T.C. wouldn’t chew, rip, or otherwise damage anything in the apartment for the short time I’d be gone, so I fed them, left on some lights and Animal Planet, and loaded Sherry, Maise, and Eleanor into my Camry. Dab drove Fred and Eleanor in his Caddy. There was more room in the trunk for Fred’s walker (sans the tool belt), and more room for Eleanor to stretch her long legs.

  We arrived at Papa Razzi’s before the big dinner rush, which meant Fred didn’t have to wait too long for his sausage, pepperoni, and black olive pie, and Maise soon drooled over her ham, pineapple, cheese, and yellow peppers.

  I glimpsed a side of the Silver Six I’d not only never seen, but never imagined. Not only did they chow down on the three pizzas we’d ordered, they bopped to the oldies music, tunes from the 1950s to the 1970s. Okay, the women got into the music more because they chair-danced and sang along. The menfolk snapped their fingers, tapped their toes, and kept eating. After Aster belted out Steppenwolf’s “Born to Be Wild,” all the ladies joined in on every song they knew from “Rock around the Clock” to “The Little Old Lady from Pasadena.” They even got me to sing “We Are Family,” though they switched up the lyrics to “I got brothers, sisters with me.”

  I didn’t know if I’d ever get to see Sherry and the gang cut loose like that again, but I’d never hear music from those eras without having an extra wide smile on my face.

  We were walking to our cars when my cell played the whistling of Eric’s ringtone. I was almost in too good a mood to answer, but I did anyway.

  “Nixy, where are you?” he demanded. “Fred’s car is in the parking lot, and so is Sherry’s Corolla, but they aren’t at home and neither are you.”

  The urgency in his voice made my stomach clench. I beeped open the car locks but stepped away to talk.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the farmhouse? The store? Oh, please tell me T.C. and Amber are okay.”

  “It’s nothing like that, but where are you?”

  “We’re just leaving Papa Razzi’s Pizza.”

  “You weren’t supposed to leave town,” he snapped.

  “Eric, we’re twenty minutes away, not on a plane to R—Oh, wait. What’s happened?”

  I listened as he huffed a breath. “Detective Vogelman wants to see the Silver Six. Right now. Come to the station.”

  “Not until you tell me why.”

  “We found Dexter Hamlin. Dead.”

  “Don’t tell me he had a peanut allergy, too.”

  “No. A bullet allergy. Get over here as soon as you can.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Aunt Sherry might have had macular degeneration, but she read my flare of anger like a book. So did the rest of the gang, so I broke Eric’s news as gently as I could. Fred and Dab didn’t curse around women, and the ladies reciprocated, but I was certain we all bit back strings of phrases more colorful than “Tarnation,” “Consarn,” and the ever-popular “Dadgummit.”

  Fortunately, it was only eight o’clock, not too late to phone Dinah Souse. She promised to meet us at the station and warned us to keep mum if we arrived before she did.

  I don’t know how things went in Dab’s car, but a grim atmosphere descended in mine. I’d worked myself into a fine fury by the time I wheeled into the station’s small parking lot and spotted Eric waiting out front.

  He stood away from the station door under the night security lights, and seeing him didn’t improve my disposition. It didn’t even make my pulse leap. I slammed the car door and stomped toward him ahead of the Six.

  “Thank you for coming,” he said formally as I stepped into circle of light.

  “Like we had a choice?” I snarled.

  Aunt Sherry had caught up with me and grasped my arm. “Now, Nixy. The detectives are only doing their jobs.”

  “Not very dang well if they’re pulling us in for questioning,” I shot back. I gave Eric my version of the evil eye and had the satisfaction of seeing him gulp. “On Monday night when we were together, did you know Vogelman had search warrants for the farmhouse and emporium?”

  He cleared his throat. “I knew she was applying for them, but you know good and well I couldn’t tell you. I’m a law officer. You don’t warn the subjects of a search that you’re coming.”

  I knew he was right, but I was too angry to care. “You’re a detective. You should be working with your new sidekick to find the truth. Instead she’s taking the easy road and harassing my family.”

  Eric pursed his lips and turned toward the station door, where Aster and Maise stood with Sherry. Fanned out just behind them were Dab, Eleanor, and Fred, sans his walker and steadying himself on Dab’s arm. And behind them stood Charlene Vogelman.

  “I am doing my best to find the truth,” she said evenly. “As for your charge of harassment, file a complaint.”

  “Believe me, I will,” I growled.

  She ignored me and turned to Aster. “Ladies and gentlemen, will you please come with me?”

  “All of us?” I asked.

  “Everyone except you.”

  “Why do I get a pass?”

  “You don’t, but there isn’t enough room to separate all of you. I’ll see you in forty-five minutes.”

  “I can’t sit long in a hard chair, you know,” Fred grumped. “And I need my walker.”

  Dab nodded and returned to his car while I ground my teeth to keep from saying something I’d regret. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But eventually.

  “When Fred is ready,” Aster drawled with perfect calm and courtesy, “we’ll be happy to join you just as soon as our lawyer arrives.”

  “Did you call Dinah Souse?” Eric put in.

  I could tell by his tone of voice he was attempting to smooth the waters, but I wasn’t having it.

  “Bet your b—”

  “Nixy!” Sherry scolded.

  “—badge we di
d.”

  Did the corners of his lips twitch? He’d better not be amused.

  “Good to hear, but there’s no point in standing outside while you wait for her.”

  Headlights hit our little group, and I breathed a relieved sigh as a compact car slid into the parking space next to Dab’s Caddy. As he closed the trunk of his car, Dinah emerged from hers with her briefcase, perfectly coifed and professionally dressed. How did she and Eleanor always manage to look immaculate?

  “Detectives Shoar and Vogelman,” Dinah said, extending her hand to each of them in turn. “Care to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Ms. Souse,” Vogelman said, “I’ll give you a few minutes to consult with your clients before we question them.”

  “Thank you,” Dinah said, as if the detective was doing her a favor instead of obeying the law.

  Vogelman held the door as everyone traipsed in, first through the reception area, then disappearing through the door to the inner sanctum.

  Everyone but me, because Eric blocked the front door.

  “You can’t go in now. You know that.”

  “What is that horse hockey about separating them?”

  “It’s procedure, and don’t worry. I’ll take care of your family.”

  “Is she dragging us in here just because Dex Hamlin is dead?”

  Regret etched his features. “Nixy, go check on T.C. and Amber. This door locks at nine, so just be back before then.”

  • • •

  I walked back to my place instead of driving to blow off some steam and to kill a little time. My darling critters greeted me with the kind of enthusiasm pets are famous for giving their errant owners. Amber pranced around me while T.C. wove in and out of my legs. I swore my blood pressure dropped just seeing them. I patted and praised them for being good and got licks and purrs in return. If I’d had time, I would’ve curled up on the couch for some serious snuggle therapy, but I was on a mission.

  “Want to walk, girls?”

  As Amber dashed for her leash, I dropped my purse on the counter and extracted my license and a little cash to tuck in my pocket. Next, I got T.C. into her harness and Amber on her leash, then clipped my set of keys to the leash handle with a D-ring. Good thing I was wearing cargo pants. I grabbed a handful of cat and dog treats and dropped them in one leg pocket, then added a handful of peppermints for my sour stomach in the other.

  Less than ten minutes later, my buddies had done their business, and I’d dropped the bagged remains in the small Dumpster behind the police station. Yes, it was a childish bit of “Take that, Vogelman” defiance, and not as calming as Aster’s lavender water, but I smiled as I walked back around the building.

  That made me wonder if Aster had lavender water spray in her purse. As far as I knew, she didn’t leave home without it, but she hadn’t spritzed it on the way to the station, and we could’ve used it. That alone spoke to how shocked we’d been.

  Hopefully, she’d made liberal use of it before Vogelman began the rounds of questioning. Even Fred might not have objected to being doused.

  Staring at the door to the station’s inner sanctum, I willed all six members of my family to walk through it. Or even for Dinah to come give me an update. Nothing happened. Mind control was obviously not in my skill set.

  I pictured the area behind the door as I’d last seen it. The décor wasn’t special in the short hallway or in the open space beyond it. Wall plaques and cheaply framed group photos of Lilyvale’s finest hung in the hall. In the main room, seven desks and four times as many mismatched filing cabinets lined the perimeter. There were rolling desk chairs for the officers and stationary chairs for visitors. Eric better have corralled the nicest chairs for the Six. The restrooms were in the back near a battered counter accessorized with a coffeemaker and a single sink. There was a private office for the chief of police, another office for special use, and doors to two interview rooms.

  Eric had allowed me to observe an interview in June. Was he now standing in the tiny space where I’d watched him question a suspect back then? I shuddered. The Six could hold their own with Vogelman, especially with Dinah by their sides, but just picturing the scene made me reach in my pocket for a peppermint.

  I tried to settle in the torture-chamber chair with T.C. in my lap and Amber stretched across my shoes. Petting the cat soothed me some but didn’t distract me enough. I played two games on my phone but couldn’t focus. I kept checking the time. Eight forty-five was in the rearview mirror. Nine o’clock came and went. The six had been in there for over an hour. How long could it possibly take Vogelman to understand that none of them had a thing to do with either death?

  At nine twenty, footsteps approached. I held my breath as the door opened and let it whoosh out when Aster, Maise, Dab, Eleanor, and Fred tromped in.

  I rushed to hug each of them, words spilling out as I did. “Are y’all okay? What happened? Has she been questioning you all this time?”

  “We’re fine, just tired,” Aster said on a sigh.

  “I ain’t fine,” Fred humphed, and rubbed a hand over his girth. “Best pizza I’ve ever ate is soured in my stomach.”

  I handed him a peppermint as Eleanor explained. “We were waiting for each other, but the detective called Sherry last. She insisted we go on home.”

  “We all fit in my Caddy,” Dab said.

  “No problem. I’ll bring Sherry back, if she’s willing to wait until I have my turn with Vogelman.”

  “That woman is a danged lunatic,” Fred charged. “Might as well be buildin’ her case on air.”

  “As for what happened, we’ll tell you later. Right now, we need to rest and regroup,” Maise said.

  “And get me some antacids.”

  • • •

  Alone again, I bit the end of my fingernail and paced. I’d about worn a rut in the linoleum when Sherry shuffled into the reception room. Followed by Vogelman.

  I heard a growl. Was that Amber or me?

  “Sherry!” I threw my arms around her while Amber happily panted unh-unh noises and T.C. repeatedly meowed.

  Over Aster’s shoulder, I caught the detective scowling at my pets.

  “Only service animals are allowed in the station,” she said.

  I bared my teeth. “These are emotional support animals. Can’t you see how they’re comforting Sherry?”

  “Looks like they’re more likely to trip her,” she said. “They’ll have to stay out here while you and I have a talk.”

  I turned to my aunt. “Sherry, can you wait a few more minutes for me?”

  “Did everyone else go home as I asked?”

  “Yes, and I’ll take you back. Here, have a seat, and take my phone to call the house.”

  “I have Eleanor’s phone,” Sherry said, waving mine away.

  “Great. Tell the gang we’ll be on our way in fifteen minutes.”

  “I’d make that thirty,” Vogelman said.

  I turned to face her, slowly and deliberately. “Make it ten, Detective.”

  As I moved to follow her, I saw Amber cock her head at Sherry, then put a paw on her knee.

  “Yes, Amber,” Sherry said, giving the dog a scratch under her chin. “Thank you for your sympathy.”

  I managed not to gape, but that was the first time I’d seen Sherry pay much attention to Amber. Bernice Gilroy had told me that Sherry’s dog had died shortly after her husband had, and she probably lacked the heart to get another pet. She’d never shunned the critters, but she’d never played with them the way Fred and Dab had from the start.

  Knowing my furry friends would be good company, I strode into the heart of the station.

  Dinah waited at the table in the interrogation room and gave me an encouraging smile. I took my place beside her and gave Vogelman my stinkiest stink-eye. She gave me the cop stare back, but it didn’t faze me.
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  “Aren’t I getting the chance to consult privately with Ms. Souse?”

  “Do you need to?”

  My gaze cut to Dinah’s. “If she asks a question I don’t think it’s in your best interests to answer, I’ll nudge you.”

  “Okay, your ten minutes starts now, Detective. Get to it.”

  “You’ve lived in Lilyvale since May?”

  “I have.”

  “And did you know that Fred Fishner owns a pistol?”

  “I understand he owns an antique gun, but I’ve never seen it.”

  “Where does he keep the pistol?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Would you have reason to believe he keeps it handy?”

  I snorted. “If Fred wanted to keep it handy, he’d pack it in the tool belt he straps to his walker.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “He didn’t have anything attached to the walker tonight.”

  “That’s because he takes his tool belt off when it will be in the way or create too much noise. We went out to eat, so he dispensed with it tonight.”

  “What does he keep in the tool belt?”

  “Besides tools? A small paintbrush and a sample-size jar of paint for touch-ups. A little bottle of lubricant, white lithium spray, and a rag to un-squeak hinges. Work gloves.” I shrugged. “What he carries varies with the jobs he’s doing.”

  “Did you know Cornell Lewis and Dexter Hamlin?”

  “In passing, yes.”

  “Did you kill either of them?”

  “I briefly fantasized about offing Dex Hamlin, but I felt sorry for Cornell. And before you ask why, you already know. He said he’d changed and I believed him.”

  “When did you last see Mr. Hamlin?”

  “Sunday morning when Officer Bryant marched him away in handcuffs. I saw his truck—or rather Eric told me it was his truck—on Sunday evening. He blew through a stop sign when we were walking T.C. and Amber.”

  She looked down at the open file before her, and I glanced at the time display on my phone. Seven minutes to go.