Deadly Devotion

by Sandra Orchard

  Hank met Tom’s words with a frown. He snapped shut his cell phone and in a low growl said, “Both ambulances are tied up on other calls.”

  “We have to get her to the hospital now,” Julie said with an urgency that had Hank scooping Kate into his arms before Tom could object.

  “We’ll take her in my Jeep. You can ride with her in the back.”

  The crowd parted, making a path to the door. Tom reached for Kate, but his dad laid hold of his arm. “Let Hank and Julie take her. You need to figure out if this was deliberate.”

  Tom jerked back, but Dad tightened his grip.

  “What if Hank’s behind this?” Tom hissed through clenched teeth. “What if he—?” The thought of Kate at Hank’s mercy snatched Tom’s breath.

  Julie grabbed Kate’s purse and told Ryan to follow in his van.

  “I’ll go with Ryan and keep an eye on Hank. You do your job.” Dad’s stern tone slammed the brakes on Tom’s racing heart. If this wasn’t an accident, someone had to stay behind and analyze the crime scene. And with Kate’s life in the balance, he couldn’t think of anyone he’d trust to do the job.

  His gaze shot to the front window. Outside, Hank set Kate into the back of his Jeep. Julie climbed in on the other side. Hank wouldn’t do anything to Kate with Julie in the car and Ryan on his tail.

  Tom dragged in a breath. “Okay, go.”

  Dad squeezed his shoulder. “She’ll be okay. You focus on figuring out who wants to shut her up.” He strode out the door and the crowd burst into chatter.

  Tom raised his hand. “May I have your attention, please? Before anyone leaves, I’d like to talk with each one of you and find out what you saw.” Hopeful no one would balk at the request that he had no legal authority to enforce, he turned toward Kate’s table to first secure the evidence.

  Darryl righted the chair Kate had toppled when she collapsed. Molly had collected the abandoned mugs onto a tray and was wiping off the flowered tablecloth.

  “Leave those.” Tom tempered the harsh command with a quieter, “Thank you.”

  Molly’s hand stopped midwipe. She shot a questioning look to Darryl, who motioned toward the counter.

  “That’s okay, Molly. You can go back to the till.” Darryl turned to Tom with a mixture of chagrin and alarm. “Sorry. I suggested she clear the table. Do you think this was deliberate?”

  “That’s what I plan to find out.”

  “I sent my wife upstairs.” Darryl’s thumbnail carved a groove into the top of the wooden chair. “She’s pregnant, and it’s high-risk. She shouldn’t have been down here in the first place. I’d been trying to convince her to go upstairs and lie down when Kate cried out. This upset could jeopardize the baby.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  His thumb abruptly stopped its fidgeting. “Because you told everyone to wait here.”

  “Okay, that’s fine.” Tom didn’t like the idea of letting Beth out of his sight, especially when Darryl’s cooperative attitude tasted a little too syrupy, but he could hardly justify having the woman dragged back to the shop. “Any idea what Kate might have ingested that had hazelnuts in it?”

  “No, our beverages don’t have nuts in them. I don’t think any of the baked items do either.” Darryl swiped at the already spotless counter, clearly anxious to avoid making eye contact. “I can ask Beth to pull out the ingredient lists if you want.”

  Molly walked to a rack that displayed an assortment of bagged teas. “We have a vanilla hazelnut dessert tea.” She picked up a box and showed it to Tom.

  “Kate wouldn’t have used that tea,” Edward cut in. “She always makes her own blend from the loose stuff.”

  “I’m just saying we have something here with hazelnut in it. Residue could have been left on a spoon or cup or something. I had a guy in my college class who was so allergic to peanuts that if another student had peanut butter for breakfast and breathed in his face, he’d have a reaction.”

  Darryl took the box and put it back on the rack. “All our mugs and cutlery go through an industrial dishwasher. A residue wouldn’t get left behind.” His look—defensive, defiant, adamant—suggested that visions of lawsuits and public health inquiries paraded through his mind.

  “Who else knew about Kate’s allergy?” Tom asked the group in general.

  Molly slid a tray of dirty mugs through the kitchen’s pass-through window. “Kate wears a medic alert bracelet. Everyone who knows her has probably asked what it’s for.”

  “Really?” Edward poured himself another cup of coffee. “I never noticed she wore a bracelet.”

  Edward’s apparent lack of concern for Kate’s recovery coupled with this denial reinforced Tom’s suspicions. “But you knew she had the allergy?”

  “Sure, Daisy probably told me. I don’t remember.”

  “We don’t even know if her reaction was to hazelnut,” Darryl countered. “For all we know, she may have reacted to something that’s never bothered her before.”

  Tom pulled out his notepad and pencil. “Molly, do you know what herbs she had in her tea today?”

  “Not a clue, sorry. She makes a different blend almost every time she comes in here. But she’ll tell you exactly what she put in. She’s very careful and insists that everyone should know what they’re drinking.”

  “Apparently not careful enough,” Al Brewster muttered from where he’d tucked into his box of donuts at a nearby table.

  Tom ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. How could the man be so callous? Hearing Kate fight for air had shaken him, and he wouldn’t relax until he knew she was out of danger. The only way to make that happen was to figure out who wanted her dead.

  He never should have allowed her to investigate Daisy’s death. The moment he’d realized she was onto something, he should have . . . His pencil snapped under the pressure of his grip.

  He yanked the phone from his belt and thumbed in his dad’s number. Voice mail picked up on the first ring. He punched in the number for the hospital next, and reception connected him to the ER nurse.

  “Hello, this is Detective Parker of the Port Aster police detachment. I need a status report on the condition of Kate Adams.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Privacy regulations forbid us from giving out that information over the phone.”

  “I’m a police officer.”

  “I’m sorry. I still can’t help you.”

  “Is Chief Brewster there?”

  “Yes, if you’ll hold a moment, I’ll get him for you.”

  Tom interrogated Hank’s dad as he waited for the chief to pick up.

  “Brewster here.”

  “How’s Kate? Does she know what triggered the reaction? Who does she think did this?”

  “As far as the doctor is concerned, she shows no lingering symptoms of an allergic reaction. But she hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  “What? Why?” The steady beep of a heart rate monitor sounded in the background.

  “They’ve run blood tests, but the results will take some time. If she doesn’t come around, they’ll admit her for observation.”

  “I want her under around-the-clock protection.”

  “Protection? She reacted to something she ate.”

  Everyone in the café had their eyes fixed on Tom, searching his face for some indication of what had happened. He turned his back to them and pitched his voice low and urgent. “Someone tried to kill her. Do you want a second homicide in this town in as many weeks?”

  “Is that what people are saying?”

  “Saying? We all saw it!”

  “Tom, you’re too emotionally involved here. I don’t want you speaking with anyone else. I’ll be right over.”

  “I want Kate under guard.”

  “Your dad is here. That’ll have to be enough.”

  Tom snapped shut his phone. Drew in a breath.

  The room fell silent. All eyes on him. Their anxiety, a thick blanket of smoke, stinging his eyes and choking off his air.

&n
bsp; “She’s stable,” he announced and everyone burst into applause.

  Having heard what they’d been waiting for, people soon grew restless.

  Tom visualized where his suspects had been in the moments leading up to Kate’s attack. She’d already been at her table when Hank’s dad arrived. Edward and Molly had been busy mooning over each other, but Kate would have gone between them to pay for her drink just as Hank had when he’d ordered donuts. Edward easily could have slipped a pinch of crushed hazelnut into Kate’s tea while Molly kept her distracted.

  Tom raised a hand to gain everyone’s attention. “We still don’t know what triggered Miss Adams’s attack. So I’d like to get everyone’s name in case we have questions later. And if you noticed or heard anything that you think is significant, please stay behind.”

  Three blue-haired ladies bustled toward him, all talking at once.

  Darryl brushed by him and said, “I’ll take down the names of those who want to leave.”

  As Tom recorded the ladies’ accounts, his attention strayed to Darryl, who was assuring people that the shop had stellar health and safety standards. From the expressions on the patrons’ faces, more than a few weren’t convinced.

  Tom might have felt sorry for him if his very presence weren’t suspect. By his own admission, Darryl routinely tinkered in his second lab until well past six o’clock.

  Hank stepped into the shop and scanned the dwindling crowd. His eyes narrowed when they zeroed in on Tom taking down Mrs. McGuire’s statement.

  Too bad. Tom wasn’t going to sacrifice Kate’s safety to pander to Hank’s PR concerns. Mrs. McGuire might have seen something significant.

  Or perhaps that was exactly what Hank was afraid of.

  Hank’s dad, seemingly uninterested in the hoopla, sat alone at a back table. Powdered sugar from a jelly-filled donut dusted his beard. He popped a last morsel into his mouth and dug into his box for another.

  If he’d slipped something into Kate’s tea, he didn’t appear worried about being found out.

  Hank strode Tom’s way, and Tom quickly thanked Mrs. McGuire for speaking with him.

  “What are all these people still doing here?”

  “Waiting to be interviewed.”

  “This was not a deliberate attack against Kate.” Hank raised his hands. “Folks, you may all go home. Miss Adams is fine. She had an allergic reaction to something she ate.”

  The scrape of a chair broke the responding silence. Mrs. C pressed her fingers into the table as she stood and drilled her gaze into Hank. “Who killed Daisy Leacock?”

  Red splotches crept up Hank’s neck. “Miss Leacock’s death was self-inflicted. At best, an unfortunate accident. Her friend is simply having a hard time accepting that fact.”

  “Seems to me we’re having too many unfortunate accidents in this town. Seems to me someone wanted to shut Kate up because she’d gotten too close to the truth. Seems to me—”

  Hank lifted his hand traffic cop style. “Miss Adams collapsed mere seconds after claiming she knew who killed Daisy. Hardly enough time for a supposed murderer to act, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I want to know who she thinks killed Daisy.”

  “Yes. Who?” The question buzzed through the crowd.

  “Rest assured we will investigate Miss Adams’s allegations, but we won’t slander anyone’s good name by repeating unsubstantiated rumors.”

  Tom surreptitiously watched Edward’s and Darryl’s reactions to Hank’s announcement, but their expressions betrayed no signs of guilt, only concern. Tom’s attention snapped to the table where he’d last seen Al Brewster.

  The man was gone.

  Tom panned the windows, his pulse racing. Al’s rusty pickup was nowhere to be seen. He dialed his cell phone to alert his dad to Al’s disappearance. Come on, Dad, pick up.

  “As for what happened here today,” Hank continued, “as I said before, Miss Adams simply had an allergic reaction to something she ate.”

  “A little too coincidental, don’t you think, Chief?” Mrs. C challenged.

  Hank’s mustache twitched. “If you think you saw something suspicious,” Hank said to the crowd in general, “you are welcome to give Detective Parker your statement. Otherwise, you are all free to go.” He must’ve heard Tom’s quick inhalation and sensed his intention to intervene, because Hank cut him off with a pointed glare.

  For a moment or two, no one moved, as though no one wanted to be the first to leave. Then, to Tom’s surprise, Mrs. C let out a loud harrumph and stomped toward the door. He’d thought she’d stick around so as not to miss anything. The others, whispering feverishly, took their cue from Mrs. C and followed her out.

  Al Brewster, fishing hat askew and still zipping his pants, ambled out of the bathroom. “Where’d everybody go?”

  “Home.” The tightness in Tom’s neck and shoulders eased fractionally. With his prime suspects all still here, he could delay his visit to the hospital a few moments longer.

  “Our fishing trip’s off.” Hank shoved a chair under one of the tables. “Thanks to Adams’s theatrics, I’ll be spending the rest of the afternoon doing damage control before the entire town starts ranting that we have a killer on the loose.”

  Darryl handed Molly an empty tray and motioned to the tables littered with mugs and napkins. “Do you think there’s anything to Kate’s allegations, Chief?”

  “No.”

  Tom’s anger flared, and apparently Hank’s brusque response raised more than just Tom’s ire.

  Edward slammed his mug onto the counter. “How can you say that when you stood there and promised those people you’d investigate? My aunt did not kill herself, and she wasn’t careless enough to make tea from toxic plants. If you’d stop worrying about public opinion for half a minute, you might actually get some real police work done and solve a case.”

  Whoa. Tom hadn’t expected a spurt of righteous indignation from a man whose character was weaker than herbal tea.

  Molly rushed to Edward’s side. “It’s okay, Edward. You need to let this go. The police know what they’re doing.” The pleading note in her voice suggested that she feared Edward would be fingered if the police reopened the case—a possibility that seemed to have slipped Edward’s mind.

  Edward brushed off Molly’s attempts to calm him. “Who does Kate think killed my aunt?”

  “She hasn’t regained consciousness long enough to share her suspicions. But I have no reason to suspect foul play in the death of Miss Leacock, or in Miss Adams’s health crisis.” Hank twisted the tip of his mustache between his fingers. “The doctor suspects she is simply overwrought from the death of her friend.”

  “That’s crazy. Her roommate had to give her an epi injection.”

  When Hank just shrugged, Tom pulled him aside. “What if we were wrong? What if Leacock was murdered?”

  “The case is closed,” Hank said with finality.

  “After Kate’s pronouncement, do you really think the town will accept that answer?”

  “The town has no choice. The case is closed. Find out who Miss Adams suspects and put her theory to rest. The mayor wants these wild rumors snuffed out before the weekly paper goes to print.”

  Tom slammed shut his car door and trudged to the front of the hospital. A frosty north wind bit at his skin, much like the worry gnawing at his insides over how to keep Kate safe.

  Whether or not her allergic reaction was from a deliberate attempt on her life made little difference. If Leacock’s killer believed Kate knew who he was, chances were he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her.

  Bile scorched Tom’s throat. Had his lapse of support, however short-lived, pushed her to the edge of reason? If she’d been thinking at all, she would have known that declaring she knew who killed Daisy was tantamount to saying, “Come and get me.”

  He yanked open the door of the building. A kind of constrained chaos reigned. Impatient-looking visitors crowded around the elevator doors, their gazes fixed on the numbers abo
ve—none of which were changing. Tom bypassed the bank of elevators and pushed through the door to the east stairwell. A bare bulb lit the windowless cavern. Paint peeled from the ceiling. His shoes squeaked on the worn marble stairs, the sound echoing off the cement walls.

  This old hospital had too many entrances and too many blind corners where someone could lurk unnoticed, waiting for an opportune moment to act.

  He needed more than his dad standing guard if he wanted Kate protected.

  As Tom reached the third floor, he spotted Julie and Ryan arguing outside Kate’s room.

  When Julie saw Tom, her tense stance relaxed. “Detective, I’m so glad you’re here. I didn’t know what to do.”

  He rushed toward her. “What’s happened? Is Kate—?”

  Julie laid a hand on his arm. “She’s still unconscious and I don’t want to leave her, but Ryan and I are supposed to be at our last premarital counseling session with the pastor, and we’ve already rescheduled it three times.”

  Tom expelled a relieved sigh that Kate’s condition hadn’t taken a turn for the worse. “You go. My dad and I will make sure she’s safe.”

  “Do you think she’s in danger?” Ryan interjected. “That this wasn’t an accident?”

  “I think it’s a possibility.”

  “Then Julie shouldn’t be here at all.”

  Julie clutched her fiancé’s arm. “She’s my friend. I can’t abandon her.”

  Tom scanned the empty hallway and lowered his voice. “Has Kate shared any of her suspicions with you?”

  “There was Darryl, of course. At first she thought the police chief was involved, then Edward.” Julie twisted a tissue in her hands. “But if she still thought it was him, why didn’t she let you arrest him? It makes no sense.”

  “She never mentioned anyone else?”

  Julie shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes.

  Ryan pulled her into his arms. “Kate will be okay. Parker won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Ryan’s right. You two go on. My dad and I will stay with her.”

  Tom stepped inside the darkened room. Fingers of light pried past the edge of the drawn curtains, sketching eerie shadows on the wall behind Kate’s bed.