The Princess and the Poison

by Carol E. Ayer

  She was much, much taller than me, so I put my arms around her neck, and we began to sway. It was an odd, but not unpleasant, sensation. I briefly wondered if I'd be as freaked out dating her as I was freaked out dating Scott. Then I shook myself out of the thought. I didn't play for her team.

  "So why do you look familiar?" Sondra asked.

  "I'm Ashling Cleary. From StoryWorld. You probably saw me there."

  "Oh, okay. I knew I recognized you. You look really beautiful, by the way." She gestured to my outfit, to be known forthwith as The Magical Miracle Dress. I considered revising my entire stance on the shopping thing.

  "Sondra, can I ask you about Katrina?"

  A tear ran down her cheek, and she looked away. "I'd rather you didn't."

  "Can you just tell me one thing? Do you know why she'd have a picture of makeup on her phone? Was it makeup you used?"

  She let out a long sigh. "I don't know if I can talk about this. It's incredibly painful."

  "Please? It's important."

  "Katrina threatened to tell my other clients that the makeup I claim is cruelty-free isn't."

  "What do you mean? What's cruelty-free?"

  "It means the makeup isn't tested on animals. But there are different kinds, okay? Some makeup companies don't use animal testing. Period. Both the ingredients and the end product are never tested on animals. That's the kind Katrina and a lot of my other clients prefer. Those companies are hard to find, and the makeup can be expensive. So sometimes I substituted. I still chose makeup that was labeled as not tested on animals, but that was only the end product. Some of the ingredients were tested on animals."

  "And Katrina found out?"

  "Yeah. She showed me the picture on her phone, along with a website that proved the ingredients were tested on animals."

  "So she blackmailed you?"

  "Not really. She said she would tell my other clients, but she didn't say what she wanted in exchange. It never got that far."

  Same deal as Hayley.

  "It really hurt, though. That she would do that to me." More tears. "I…I loved her. I know she was straight, but sometimes I got a vibe from her. You know, that maybe she was attracted."

  I didn't point out that her gaydar might be off. She apparently thought Donna and I were gay.

  I said sincerely, "I'm sorry."

  Sondra stopped swaying and withdrew her arms from around my waist. So far, her voice had been small and soft. But now it turned loud and hard. "You aren't thinking that I…hurt her? You think I—"

  "Did you?"

  She pushed me. Not very hard but enough that I had to work to keep my balance. People turned to stare at us.

  In between heaving sobs, Sondra said, "I wouldn't do that. Didn't you hear me? I loved her." She doubled over as if in physical pain. "Get away from me!"

  That worked okay with me. That was about all the confrontation I could handle for one day. I beat a hasty retreat.

  I found Donna sampling from a waiter's tray and pulled her away. "Time to go."

  "We haven't been here very long," she mumbled through a mouthful of crab cake. "I thought we had more time. You really should taste this. It's superb. I wanna see if I can find one of the caterers to get the recipe."

  I turned to look at Sondra, who stared back at me with equal parts anger and sadness. I felt a tug at my heart. She and Ryan had both been devastated by Katrina's death. I knew better than anyone what it was like to lose someone who meant everything to you.

  I told Donna, "I think we'd better leave right now."

  "Oh, all right." She wrapped a few more crab cakes in a napkin, ignoring the waiter's surprised expression, and I hustled her out to our limo.

  Jeremy had put up the partition, so Donna and I were able to talk freely. I told her what Hayley and Sondra had said.

  "I don't think it's either of them. Katrina didn't actually go through with blackmailing them. She just threatened to tell their clients but didn't and never asked for anything in return. Besides, Hayley said it was a good-paying job that she wishes hadn't ended, and Sondra was in love with her!"

  "At least Sondra has found a new love. You and she make quite a cute couple," Donna said.

  "Yeah, yeah. Okay. Funny. So, what do you think?"

  "If Katrina didn't go through with the blackmailing, I'd say no to them both."

  "This is just impossible! Oh, shoot, I meant to ask Sondra her aunt's name. In case we need to talk to any of the entourage again."

  "No worries. I asked Susan if she knew. She said they've decided to stay with Sondra's aunt, Janet Washington, through the end of July. So we can always talk to them again if you want."

  "Good work, Donna."

  * * *

  After giving the driver the biggest tip I could muster (one which got me a look similar to Dinah's when I fed her weight-control cat food), I bid Donna good-bye, went inside my cottage, threw off my uncomfortable heels, and slumped into the sofa.

  I stared at the ceiling and reviewed my latest suspects. Like I told Donna, I didn't think it was Sondra or Hayley. I believed Sondra when she said she loved Katrina. I didn't think Sondra would hurt her. And Hayley had liked the paycheck, so why shoot herself in the foot and stop it from coming? According to both of them, Katrina hadn't followed through with the blackmail, though it was possible one of them killed her before it ever reached that point. But from the little I knew about blackmail, the conditions were set at the beginning. It seemed like Katrina would have said, "If you don't do X or give me Y, I'll tell your clients and destroy you." She'd left out the first part entirely.

  However, Mariana and Ryan were still in play. Mariana wanted Ryan back, so maybe she got rid of Katrina to facilitate their reunion. And what if Ryan wasn't telling the truth, and Katrina had been just as awful to him as she was to everyone else? To the point he couldn't take it anymore. He'd admitted he'd been at StoryWorld the afternoon before Katrina was killed. He could have tampered with the spindle.

  Mulling over the latest developments, I wrestled myself out of The Magical Miracle Dress and my body-shaping underwear, changed into my familiar T-shirt and jeans, washed most of the makeup from my face, let loose my hair, and drove to the park to finish out the day.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I thought I'd seen everything that summer: A star who was a mass of contradictions, the murder of said star by way of a poison-covered spindle, and a chocolate-eating Guinness World Record (set by me). But I hadn't seen nothin' yet. The next day on my early-morning rounds, I found a war zone where my sweet storybook park used to be.

  Okay, so not a war zone. Nothing was damaged beyond repair. But, among other things, a vandal had drawn mustaches on Dorothy, the White Rabbit, and the dormouse, completely drained the Little Mermaid pond so the fiberglass fish inside had nothing to swim in, and TP'd every single plant, shrub, and tree from the Magic Forest to the Wishing Well. My heart beating madly, I immediately called the police station, reporting the crime in a tremulous voice. The policewoman who answered, perhaps my friend Rumpelstiltskin, promised to send someone out as soon as possible.

  Truesdale and Ochoa arrived about ten minutes later, and I walked them through the park. They remained silent until we ended up at the last bit, the most ominous in my opinion. Paul Bunyan's plastic ax had been twisted around so the blade was now flush against his neck. Looking at the sinister scene once again, a shudder ran through the length of my body.

  "No one was hurt? Other than Dorothy, the White Rabbit, and Paul here, that is?" From anyone else, I might have considered this sarcasm, but Ochoa maintained a straight face. Of course, those darn dimples were there even without a smile. I envisioned hanging a warning sign around his neck: Dimples are not meant to imply I will be nice or even helpful.

  "No," I said, my voice still shaky. "It happened overnight. No one was here. And the animals are fine." Thank God for that. I regarded the animals—hens, goats, bunnies, pigs—as my pets. Dinah was also fine, having slept in the office all nig
ht.

  "Your security isn't the greatest," Truesdale commented. "You've got at least a couple of areas of sagging fence. The vandal could have breached them."

  "Or the vandal just stayed behind after you closed last night," Ochoa added, and I jerked my head toward him.

  What an alarming idea. I'd never felt the need to scour the park for visitors who had stayed behind. Should I be doing that? Although Mom had installed a chain link fence around the office's courtyard that we kept locked at night, we'd made virtually no other security upgrades since the park opened. We hadn't needed to.

  "We haven't had any significant problems in over sixty years," I murmured. "StoryWorld is a beloved part of the community. No thefts, no vandalism…" I stopped talking. We'd recently had a murder, which by anyone's yardstick trumped theft and vandalism.

  Ochoa looked to Truesdale and held her gaze.

  "What? What was that?" I asked, waving my pointer finger between the two of them. "That look?"

  "We did warn you," Truesdale said.

  "Wait! You mean you think it was Laura or Julie who did this?"

  Ochoa shrugged. "Or anyone else you've been 'interrogating.'" He didn't make the finger quotes, but I recognized them from his tone. Harrumph. He didn't even know about my interviews with the entourage.

  I said, "Well, someone has to be talking to them. Have you even been looking into other suspects besides Donna and Charlie? What about Hayley, Katrina's hairdresser? She has alopecia and wears a wig. Katrina threatened to tell her other clients. And Sondra, the makeup artist? She was using makeup with ingredients that were tested on animals. Against her clients' wishes. Katrina threatened to bust her too."

  Truesdale just shook her head at me.

  "What about Mariana? Did you know Katrina's boyfriend used to date her? And she wants him back! What about the boyfriend himself? Did you know she had a boyfriend?" I finally stopped so I could catch my breath.

  "Ms. Cleary," Ochoa said, his teeth gritted. "You need to stop this. Now. We don't want to have to tell you again." His expression lightened a little, and he added, "Here's my cell phone number. If anything else happens, call me directly. Instead of doing something yourself, all right?"

  "Thank you," I mumbled, taking his card after he’d scribbled a number on the back.

  Donna jogged over from the restaurant once the detectives left. I was still standing next to Paul Bunyan, wondering what in the world had happened to my life.

  "Ashling! What happened here?"

  I gave her a brief rundown.

  "So the detectives think it was payback for your investigations?"

  "Yeah. But I don't think so. I mean, take a look at this." I gestured to Paul Bunyan. "I think the murderer is trying to warn me away."

  Donna took in Paul Bunyan's appearance, and she too shuddered. "I'm so sorry. I feel responsible. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be investigating the murder. And if you weren't investigating, this wouldn't have happened."

  "Donna, it's not your fault. I'm just glad no one was hurt, including our animals. And the damage isn't that bad."

  "I guess this is the end though. I just hope the detectives don't find something from our computers they can twist around to make a cause for arrest." She chewed on her thumb.

  "You're not going to be arrested. I'm not giving up."

  "But what if you'd been here late or early this morning or whenever this happened? What if he'd hurt you? I can't lose you, Ashling." She bit her lip and looked to be holding back tears.

  "Oh, Donna. It's going to be okay." I hugged her gently, and her shoulders relaxed. I couldn't believe we were in this predicament. Just a few months earlier, the biggest problem we had was deciding if we should offer healthier options at the Jack Sprat. How had we gotten here?

  In the meantime, there was no way we could be up and running in an hour. For one thing, we had no toilet paper because the vandal had used all of it. So, I posted a notice at The Castle saying we'd open again the next day. When my staff arrived, I told them we were going to try something different. We'd be fixing up the park. The employees assigned to the rides thought this a fair trade, while those assigned to the more popular positions—the entrance and the customer service center—weren't quite as pleased.

  Donna and I tackled the Magic Forest, reaching up into the branches of the oak trees to remove what seemed like a thousand pieces of toilet paper. The vandal had left alone the giant fiberglass mushrooms that complemented the oak trees, so I thanked heaven for small favors.

  "What a waste," Donna said, pulling down another bunch of toilet paper and pushing it into her giant garbage bag. "Although, if you need to pee later, you don't have to use a leaf."

  "Ha-ha," I said. "Not funny."

  But we actually did have fun. Donna and I laughed and joked for the next few hours. We stayed away from all talk of the murder and of Scott and stuck to fun subjects like TV shows, books, and movies.

  At one point, Donna stuffed toilet paper in her bra and strutted around, much to my amusement.

  "I've always wondered what it would be like to be a D-cup." She thrust her chest forward and danced around a mushroom. "I bet I could have been a big Hollywood star if I'd been this well-endowed."

  "You look ridiculous," I said. "Your natural look is much better. Meanwhile, my stomach and butt look like they're already stuffed with TP."

  She started to make a remark about Scott maybe liking something to hold onto, but I cut her off. I didn't want to talk about him.

  At twelve thirty, Donna and Vince whipped up a batch of burgers and fries, and the entire staff ate lunch in the Poppy Field. For a short time at least, Katrina's murder, the vandalism, and Donna's status as primary suspect faded into the background. It was a welcome relief.

  * * *

  That evening, Donna and I went out to Freddy's to share a medium olive and mushroom pizza and to debrief about the day. Even though I'd downed a hamburger and dozens of fries at lunch, I was hungry. Again.

  "I've just got to figure out what to do next with this whole investigating thing," I told her as we waited for the pizza. "I've talked to Bradley, Laura, Julie, and the entourage. I wonder who I should pick next."

  "Ashling, no. Look at what happened. Look at Paul Bunyan. You could be next with an ax against your neck. You've got to stop."

  "There's no argument here. I've gotta keep going. Obviously, I'm getting close. Why else the vandalism? I don't believe for a second it's retaliation for asking questions. It's clear I'm zeroing in. Pretty soon this will be all over, and we can go back to normal."

  "But this is not only dangerous, it's affecting your relationship with Scott. Have you talked to him? Have you told him about the vandalism? Did you call him today?"

  I shifted in my seat and looked to the ceiling over the kitchen. Was that a flour stain? Had an overzealous chef flipped his dough too high? I pulled my focus back to Donna's question, realizing I'd never even returned Scott's phone call from the other day. Truthfully, I'd been trying to ignore the whole "Scott thing," hoping it would all just go away. The problem was I wasn't entirely sure I wanted him to go away.

  "No. I haven't talked to him."

  "Oh, hon, why not? Don't tell me you don't like him. I know you do. And I think you want to be in a relationship. No, don't look away." She reached across the table and gently turned my head back to her. "What is it, Ashling? What's wrong? Are you still mad he told you not to investigate?"

  "Yeah, I guess. But it's more than that. I just have some kind of resistance to it. Maybe because I'm not over Jamie yet."

  Our pizza arrived before Donna could comment, and I doled out a slice to each of us.

  Donna said, before taking a bite, "I don't think you'll ever be over Jamie. Not completely. But that doesn't mean you can't go out with someone else and have feelings for him. Do you feel like you're cheating on Jamie or something like that?"

  "I don't know. Maybe. But I can't concentrate on Scott and relationships right now. We need to fi
gure out who killed Katrina. Then, once we do, and the real murderer is behind bars, I can figure out what to do about him."

  "Well, all right. But please be careful. Okay?"

  "I will."

  At that moment, Charlie walked into the restaurant and looked around. Donna waved him over.

  "I hope you don't mind," Donna said to me. "I told him we'd be here and he should join us if he could."

  "Of course."

  "Hey, you lovely ladies." He leaned down to kiss Donna and then patted my back.

  "Hi, Charlie," I said. "Good timing. The pizza just got here. Sit down and have some."

  He turned a chair around and straddled it. Charlie was a good-looking guy, tall and trim, with a neat mustache and beard that covered old acne scars. "No, thanks. I ate already. But I wanted to come and say thank you for trying to help us out."

  "I was just telling her she better stop, though," Donna said. "It's getting too dangerous."

  He nodded. "Donna told me about the vandalism. I agree. This is our problem, Ashling, not yours."

  "Your problem is my problem," I said. "You're my friends!"

  Charlie and Donna exchanged glances, communicating with each other in the way they had without words.

  "Well, we really do appreciate it," Charlie said. "I'm getting a lot of weird looks at work. I had to tell the dean why I've been gone so much, and I think he told my colleagues."

  Donna looked at him, obviously surprised. "You didn't tell me that!"

  "I didn't want to worry you."

  "Oh, honey." She reached over and kissed his cheek. "You know you can tell me anything."

  He smiled back at her. "I know."

  A pang of longing knocked against my chest. I remembered Jamie saying something similar to me. Oh, how I had dumped my troubles on him. Every little incident at work, each ache and pain, all the slights I'd suffered to my self-esteem—Jamie heard them all. I had the feeling Scott would be equally understanding. Maybe I should call him when I got home. Then I remembered he hadn't been understanding about my interrogations and decided against it.