In a swift movement, Donna grabbed me, pulled me close, and hugged me. "I'm sorry. I should never have said that. I shouldn't have said any of those things. I was mad at myself. And mad at you for not believing in me. But I didn't mean it."
"I'm sorry too." I took a deep breath and wiped my tears away with my hands. "I don't know how I could have ever for a moment let it cross my mind you killed Katrina. But I'm just so frustrated. I don't know who did kill her."
Donna shook her head. "I know. But let's make a promise. No more secrets, okay?"
"Okay. Yes. Should we do a pinky swear?"
She smiled. "I don't think that's necessary. But let's go get some coffee, okay?"
"There's nothing I'd like better right now." We walked on to the Jack Sprat, where we shared a quiet few moments drinking our coffee and not speaking. I didn't know about Donna, but I was even more exhausted than before.
Eventually I said good-bye to Donna and returned to the office, glad that at least she and I were back on track. No one would ever have to know about the sleeping pill. In fact, I vowed to tell Bradley it had been an aspirin for Donna's coffee. As for the real killer, it was back to the drawing board.
In between wondering who the cripes killed Katrina and how exactly I was going to find out who did, I thought about what Donna had said about Jamie. It was true. The year before his death had been incredibly difficult. I'd felt like I was dealing with a completely different person—someone who had a short fuse, who didn't consider my feelings, and who seemed to be mired in his own unhappiness and wasn't doing anything to get himself out. He ate unhealthily, didn't exercise, drank too much, and stopped taking his medication. He even refused to see a psychiatrist. Should I have been harder on him? Treated him with "tough love"? I'd always done my best to be patient with him, to be understanding. And, yes, to forgive him. But did I avoid a confrontation with him in typical Ashling fashion? If I had confronted him and threatened to leave him if he didn't take better care of himself, would he be alive today?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, the day turned out to be a particularly busy one, and I had to give up on all my questions. I still had a ton to do when my staff left that evening. I hadn't even had a chance to see Donna again, so I'd have to wait until I got home to her house.
After a while, I realized I didn't know where Dinah was. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been batting around the orange yarn ball Donna made for her. Since I'd been too busy to play with her, she'd been amusing herself by picking up the ball with a claw, throwing it across the office, and chasing after it.
I stood in the office doorway and called for her, but she didn't come. Her yarn ball sat in the courtyard, and I stepped outside to pick it up. "Dinah, where are you? Here kitty, kitty, kitty!"
A feeling of unease settled over me when she didn't appear. I jogged around the park looking for her, paying especially close attention to the Henny Penny set and the restaurant—the places she liked to hang around hoping a chicken or one of Donna's leftovers would fall into her mouth. I called for her over and over, my heart rate increasing with each utterance of her name.
Still she didn't appear, and my anxiety ratcheted up. This wasn't like Dinah. She never was gone for long and usually came back to the office quickly for treats and cuddles. She always preferred napping in the office, far away from the noise and chaos in the park. Even after we closed, she liked to stay in the office.
Unable to find her, I slogged back to the office and left the door open, hoping she'd show up at any moment. Just when I'd put the last touches on a birthday party contract, she came running. She tore into the office, jumped up on the visitor's chair, used it as a springboard to leap onto my desk, skidded across the surface on one of my files, and hopped down, all within seconds. Stunned, I watched her run back outside.
"Dinah! What are you doing?" I followed her out to the courtyard, where she flung herself down on the ground. Just as quickly, she got up again and opened her mouth. Out came an alarming amount of foamy vomit.
I sprinted inside the office to my computer. After several misspellings because of my distress, I typed in the symptoms of vomiting and excitability in cats and read the first entry that came up.
As I rifled through the closet desperately trying to find something to carry Dinah in, I called Donna. When she answered, I immediately launched in without saying hello. "Someone poisoned Dinah. It's the murderer trying to scare me, I just know it. But Dinah. Poor Dinah. She's a defenseless animal. Who could do this to her?"
"What should I do? Do you want me to drive you to the vet? Charlie and I were on our way out for dinner, but it's all right. I can be there in ten minutes."
"No. I want to get her there as soon as possible. I'll see you later."
I finally found a StoryWorld sweatshirt and went back outside to Dinah. She now lay on her side, her breathing labored. I gently wrapped her in the sweatshirt, carried her to the car, and placed her delicately on the front seat.
"You're going to be okay, sweetie. I promise. We're getting you help. Right away."
My hands shaking on the wheel, I glanced furtively in the rearview mirror. When had this happened? Was the murderer still in the park? Maybe he—or she, I reminded myself—was even following us right now. I looked over at Dinah, who raised her head weakly, and I felt a stab to my heart.
What would I do if I lost her? She'd been StoryWorld's resident cat for almost as long as I'd been the manager and owner, and she'd been there for every misstep I'd taken and every triumph I'd achieved. She'd been there when I met Jamie, and she'd been there when I needed her after he died.
I remembered the day when she'd just appeared at the office door, a pretty calico kitten who didn't seem to have a home. She didn't wear a collar, and when I took her to the vet, I found out she didn't have a microchip either. Although I posted notices throughout Springdale and in the paper, no one claimed her. It only made sense to keep her. I named her Dinah after Alice's cat in Alice in Wonderland. She immediately took to her new home, loving the open space, the possibilities for food, the birds and butterflies to chase, and all the animals that proved a source of endless fascination. I loved her dearly and relied on her more than I even realized. Just watching her sleep, curled up and peaceful, was enough to make me feel better when I was low.
Driving several miles over the speed limit to the vet I'd counted on for years to treat our sick animals, I felt like I was never going to get there. What was a five-minute drive seemed to take forever. Finally, we arrived. I parked in front, picked up Dinah gingerly from the front seat, and ran to the door. I pushed and pulled and yanked at the handle but had to accept that the door was locked. Frantically, I checked the hours to find the clinic had closed fifteen minutes earlier. Praying that someone was still inside, I knocked as hard as I could.
"My cat's been poisoned," I said tearfully to the staffer who answered the door a few seconds later. "I know you're closed, but please help her."
"Bring her in, honey. Dr. Leong is still here. She'll look at her." The staffer left for the back of the office.
Dr. Leong came into the room a moment later, took Dinah from my arms, and told me to wait.
Easier said than done. Although the waiting room was well-stocked with magazines, I couldn't sit still long enough to read one. I walked up and down the room, my heart racing, my mind filled with self-recriminations. How could I have let this happen? After the vandalism and the fire, I shouldn't have let anyone I loved out of my sight. Including Dinah.
Finally, the vet came into the waiting room, and I braced myself for the bad news. Another loss. I didn't know if I'd be able to handle it.
"She's going to be okay," Dr. Leong said, and I let out a long breath. "She ingested quite a bit of chocolate. It's a good thing you brought her in when you did. I want to keep her overnight, but you can pick her up tomorrow morning."
I nodded, unable to speak, and bit back tears. I left the clinic, trudged to my ca
r, and drove home to Donna's house, feeling guiltier than I ever had in my life. It was my chocolate that had poisoned Dinah. That morning I'd eaten a number of miniature candy bars, but I remembered now I hadn't finished one and had left the remainder on my desk. Dinah must have eaten it at some point while I was out on the grounds. I should have remembered that she ate anything and everything.
My eating problem had almost killed Dinah. That was it. No more out-of-control eating. If this didn't get me to stop, nothing would.
Donna had left several messages on my cell phone while I was at the vet. I called her at the restaurant and filled her in. She offered to come home right away, but I told her to enjoy her date, and I'd see her in the morning.
When I sank into bed later, I fell asleep within minutes, only to wake in the early hours of the morning to fret over Dinah, Scott, and the murder case I couldn't seem to solve.
* * *
Before work the next day, I picked Dinah up from the clinic. She seemed fine, if a little tired. The receptionist helped me settle her into a cardboard box for our trip to the park. I thanked the receptionist profusely for her help the day before and asked her to pass along my gratitude to Dr. Leong.
In the car, I talked to Dinah the whole way, apologizing, telling her she was a good girl, and proclaiming how much I loved her. Every so often she meowed back softly, hopefully accepting my apologies.
At work, I let her out into the office, and she went directly to her bed and curled up. She really was so exhausted. I tucked her blanket around her and went up to visit Donna. Thank God she and I were friends again. I needed all the friends I could get these days. Which made me think of Scott, but I wasn't gonna go there.
"How is she, hon?" Donna asked as she stepped out of the back of the restaurant with two donuts and two coffees. I gestured to a table, and we sat.
"She's tired, but she's going to be okay. I feel horrible that I caused this. Me, the one who's supposed to take care of her and love her. I can't seem to take care of anyone I love." I hung my head and brushed back tears. "Jamie, Dinah, you."
"Oh, Ash. You're too hard on yourself. This was an accident. Nothing more. Here, eat." Donna pushed a chocolate donut across the table.
"No. I've gotta stop eating so much. It's over."
"You have to eat something. Just eat in moderation, okay?"
"I guess. But no chocolate today. May I have some oatmeal instead?"
"Sure. I'll get it." She left, taking the donuts with her. I was touched she was forfeiting her own donut on my behalf.
I was as exhausted as Dinah. I wished I could just curl up in my chair and fall asleep. That reminded me of Katrina, who pretended to fall asleep and was never going to wake up again.
* * *
The next day, Dinah was much better and in a frisky mood. I put new catnip in her mouse and threw the toy across the office. She ran after the mouse and pummeled it. Then she took it in her paws, turned over onto her back, and licked it, her eyes glazing over.
Leaving Dinah in her catnip coma, I headed to the stage to take care of some unfinished business. The actors were rehearsing for their next performance of Snow White, and I wanted to talk to Bradley. Rehearsals were still going on when I arrived, so I sat in the first row of the theater to watch.
Laura lay in an open glass coffin (the authenticity of the prop was beyond chilling), her long brown hair loose and covering her chest. Bradley strode across the stage, leaned down, and touched her cheek. Laura opened her eyes and sat up, a stark contrast to Katrina in Sleeping Beauty.
Julie came over to them and said, "Okay. That's good. Everyone can go. I'll see you again tomorrow morning."
I climbed up the steps, ignored Julie's hateful look, and approached Bradley. "Bradley? Can I talk to you for a sec?"
He nodded, and I led him down the steps and onto the grass.
"I just wanted to let you know that what you saw was Donna putting an aspirin into her own coffee. It wasn't the same coffee you saw her bring to Katrina." The lie rolled easily off my tongue.
Bradley nodded several times. "Okay. That's good. I'm glad."
"Yeah, me too." I saw Laura walking away out of the corner of my eye, debated with myself, and told Bradley, "I'm gonna talk to Laura. See you later."
I hurried after Laura and touched her sleeve.
She turned around. "What do you want?"
Deciding to butter her up before I got into the interrogating, I said, "You've been doing really good work. You're a great Snow White."
She ran her hand down her hair, clearly pleased. "Thank you."
"I was wondering what you'll be doing after the summer. Are you gonna try to get some bigger roles? Maybe go to Hollywood?"
She looked surprised. "Oh, you didn't hear?"
"Hear what?"
"I'm getting married. To Marcus… You know, the stagehand? No more acting for me after the summer. I'm happy to be a wife and then a mother someday." She gave me a huge smile and twirled the diamond ring on her left hand. I hadn't noticed it until now.
"Oh, congratulations! That's terrific!"
"Thanks. I've gotta go now. Bye."
Okay, so she wasn't the ruthless fame chaser I'd thought she might be. Time to send her to the bottom of the list—again.
* * *
In the office, Dinah jumped into my lap and purred at me.
"Feeling better, sweetie? Do you forgive me? That will never happen again. I promise."
She looked back at me, taking in what I was saying, and purred some more. She nudged my hand so I'd scratch her chin and ears. Unable to do much else at the same time, I glanced at the mail, which seemed to consist of nothing but junk. My eyes landed on an ad for Dr. Frank Rythersen, a certified classical homeopath.
Rythersen? It couldn't be, could it? Ryan had said his family was from the area, and it wasn't an especially common name. If he and Frank were related, another possibility opened up. I was pretty sure homeopaths used medicines which at higher dosages were considered poisons. Maybe Dr. Rythersen had been able to get curare, which Ryan then swiped on the spindle.
The more I pondered it, the more I believed it possible Ryan was the murderer. Wasn't the killer usually the victim's significant other anyway? And I could see how he might have had a motive. Wouldn't it be natural for him to eventually resent the fact that Katrina wouldn't acknowledge him as her boyfriend? Add that to Katrina's obnoxious nature, and he easily could have had enough.
Katrina, no doubt, told him over the phone about the play, and he'd learned about the spinning wheel and the spindle. His father procured the curare and got it ready for him. Then, the afternoon before the premiere, he picked up the curare mixture from his father's office, brought it back to StoryWorld, and poisoned the spindle when no one was paying attention.
I would have to find a way to talk to him again. And I vowed to figure out how to interview his father. Maybe one or both of them would give themselves away.
* * *
I walked into Donna and Charlie's kitchen the next morning, hair wet from my shower, clad in my work uniform of T-shirt and jeans. Donna handed me a hot latte in a flower mug.
"This is a nice treat," I said as I took a sip. "Service at home?"
"Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream in five. But only one waffle for each of us." She winked at me. "Moderation in action."
"Sounds perfect."
"We have syrup too."
"Can I live with you forever?" I asked, and she grinned. I'd talked to my landlady before my shower. I'd be able to move back home the next day, but with this kind of service, I might consider staying with Donna.
"Go out to the porch swing and drink your coffee," Donna said, pushing me toward the door. "It's beautiful outside. Not gonna be nearly as hot today. You'll love it."
She didn't have to ask twice.
Rocking back and forth in the porch swing, I looked over to the house next to Donna's. Her elderly neighbors sat side by side in rocking chairs. They waved to me,
and I waved back. The husband reached over for his wife's hand, and she kissed his cheek. Yikes! How long had they been together? Was it really possible they were still in love?
I drank my coffee and stared out into Donna's front yard, averting my eyes from the lovefest next door. Had her neighbors had rough times? Surely they had. Maybe one or both had had affairs. No doubt there had been jealousy, arguments, and misunderstandings. But clearly they'd made it through. The cynical part of me piped up to suggest they were on second or third marriages and hadn't been together long. Maybe all that was ahead of them.
Donna called me in a few minutes later, and she, Charlie, and I shared a leisurely breakfast. It was nice not to rush in to work for once, but Donna and I would have to leave soon.
"I saw your neighbors outside," I said, pouring myself a glass of orange juice.
"The Christensens?" Donna said. "Aren't they great?"
"Married sixty-five years," Charlie said.
Ah. So they had been together forever.
"They were holding hands," I said in a monotone. How did they do it? I couldn't even date Scott.
"Yep. Still in love," Donna said. She glanced sideways at Charlie. "Only forty more years and we'll be in the same position."
Charlie smiled at her and took her hand. Was I the only girl in the world who had no one to hold my hand? But, really, whose fault was that?
* * *
The next day, I moved back to my cottage. I walked around my home, picking up familiar objects and putting them down again. It was strange to be back but nice too, the absence of Donna's cooking notwithstanding.
The fire had officially been ruled arson, but that didn't mean the detectives or the fire investigators knew who did it. It didn't matter. I knew the killer had done it, and I knew it was up to me to figure out who that was and set our world right again.
The Princess and the Poison Page 17