After about two hours, my shrubs were trimmed and my grass was mowed. My phone rang. Brent was waiting for me at Deputy Donut. “You’re clear,” he added. “Not a speck of poison of any sort. The hazmat guys were a little disappointed.” I heard a smile in his voice.
Dep was reluctant to leave her patch of sunshine, but I managed to lock her inside so I could walk back to Deputy Donut.
Brent was sitting on the stoop outside the office. He stood and thrust his phone into a pocket of his blazer.
I asked him, “Did the guys make a mess in there?”
“No. They’re careful not to spill things like flour and powdered sugar that might contain poisons, and we weren’t taking fingerprints, so you won’t need additional cleaning.”
I went into the office, called the Jolly Cops, and left a voice message that they could skip cleaning Deputy Donut that night. Then I reset the alarm and joined Brent, now standing on the porch. He watched me lock the door.
I ran down the porch stairs. “Did investigators find any other arsenic in the lodge last night?”
Brent followed me. “The air in the lodge was fine, and guests were allowed to return to their rooms before the sun was up. There were a few grains of arsenic on your table around the saucer, and quite a bit more on one of those fancy three-layered plates in front of your donut wall, as if contaminated crullers had been on the plate. It’s a good thing you noticed that saucer underneath your hat. There was enough in it to kill a few more people.”
We started down the driveway. I asked, “Have investigators checked our Deputy Donut car yet?”
“No, and not your and Scott’s clothes. I wanted to get your shop ready so you could open tomorrow. I’ll let you know how your car and clothes test.”
“Thank you. I made lasagna. Are we still on for dinner?”
He stared toward the end of the driveway where cars were driving up and down Wisconsin Street. “That’s really tempting, and I wish I could, but I’ll need to work most of the night. The chief’s away for the weekend. I’d like to have all of my leads organized before morning when he gets back.” He frowned down at me as if I might not remember what a detective’s life could be like—the sudden need to work even longer hours than usual, the determination to solve a crime and bring a criminal to justice, the devotion to the citizens he was sworn to serve and protect.
“And calls in the DCI,” I commented in a dry voice.
“Which would give me some time off.”
“I made lots of lasagna. How about tomorrow night? You do have to eat once in a while.”
“Okay, if you’ll understand if I have to cancel at the last minute.”
“I will. And then we can aim for Tuesday or Wednesday, or . . .”
With a tired smile, he placed one arm around my shoulders and briefly squeezed me to his side. “Thanks, Em. You’re the best.” I responded with a quick and awkward one-armed hug around his waist before we let each other go and continued walking down the driveway. At the street, he said, “Let me know if you think of anything else, no matter how insignificant it might seem.” He turned left, toward the police department and a night of piecing clues together.
I turned right, toward my sweet Victorian neighborhood, my house, a lonely dinner, and the cat who made a house a home.
“Meow!” she said the minute I walked inside.
“Sorry, Dep, I couldn’t bring your friend back for lasagna tonight. He has to work. Maybe tomorrow.”
Dep stood up on her hind legs. With her claws withdrawn, she boxed the shin of my jeans. “Meow!” She sat down again and stared up at my face.
“I gave you food and water before I left.” I went into the kitchen. Both bowls were full.
From the living room, Dep meowed again. She was sitting facing the front door. Her tail swished back and forth across the pine plank floor.
“I know you missed out on your trip to the office today,” I told her. “We’ll go tomorrow.”
I returned to the kitchen and put the lasagna into one of the ovens. When I closed the door, Dep was right behind me. She looked pointedly at the oven door. “Yeow!”
“Lasagna?” I asked. “It’s not good for you. And you probably wouldn’t like it, anyway.”
She trotted to the front door and meowed at it again. I followed her and peered out through the peephole. No one was there. Had someone left something on the porch? I picked Dep up and opened the door.
Nothing.
Dep purred loudly. I closed the door. “Is this what you wanted, a cuddle?” I carried her to the comfy carved mahogany and red velvet couch I’d inherited from my grandmother. With Dep in my arms, I plunked down and set my phone on the coffee table. Keeping her back legs on my lap, Dep stretched until her front legs were on the table. She nosed the phone.
“You want me to invite someone over so you’ll get more attention than you get from only one person? Okay, I do have more than one friend who’s willing to cater to your royal wishes.”
I tried Samantha first. “I just put lasagna in the oven. Want to come over to dinner?”
“Love to! I wondered what I was going to eat.”
I wasn’t as lucky with Misty. She didn’t answer. I left a message.
Dep jumped down onto the Oriental-patterned red, cobalt, navy, and ivory rug and strode toward the kitchen. “Are you happy now?” I called after her.
“Mmp.” She sounded a lot like Brent when he didn’t quite want to answer a question.
“Would you stop it with the mmps, Dep?” I followed her into the kitchen and started washing romaine lettuce. Dep swaggered into the sunroom and curled up on a radiator cover. “Mission accomplished, huh?” I asked.
But she only opened one eye and closed it again. Naptime.
I arranged frozen homemade croutons on a cookie sheet and slid the cookie sheet into the second oven. Then I made Caesar salad dressing and used a grater to turn a chunk of Romano cheese into thick, yummy slivers. Knowing that Samantha didn’t like anchovies, I didn’t open any.
Although I had four stools at the island counter in the kitchen, I decided to be more formal for Samantha’s visit. I set the table in the dining room. As in the rest of the house except the kitchen and bathroom, the floors were stripped-down pine and the walls were white. The dining room windows were high and made of jewel-toned stained glass, which meant that natural light had to filter in from the living room and kitchen. To brighten the dining room, Alec and I had bought a simple white table and white chairs.
Cindy had made our plates, bowls, cups, and serving dishes. They were the same chocolatey brown as Dep’s, but ours were plain, without cute white kitty paw prints. Cindy hadn’t written our names on ours, either. I used handwoven place mats in deep red and added stainless cutlery.
The top of the lasagna was bubbling in the oven when the doorbell rang. Dep jumped off the radiator cover. Her feet pounding the floors, she beat me to the door.
After working the late shift the night before, Samantha must have gotten some sleep during the day. Her dark eyes gleamed with humor and intelligence. She thrust a bottle of Chianti at me and picked up Dep, who purred her approval. “That lasagna must be delicious,” Samantha said. “I can smell the oregano and cheese from here.”
In the kitchen, I opened the Chianti. “How are you doing after last night?” I asked Samantha.
“It’s always hard to lose a patient. We knew when we wheeled him out of the lodge that there wasn’t much hope, so when we heard he didn’t make it we weren’t surprised. It must have been hard for you, though, finding that powder and guessing that it might be poison.” Dep squirmed. Samantha set her down. “And then hearing that the powder was arsenic.”
I poured wine into goblets made of clear bubbled glass with dark red rims. “Seeing that powder was shocking and a little frightening, but before I saw it, I guessed that he’d passed out because of drinking too much. He’d been rude to me and belligerent to at least one of his guests. From what I saw of him, he wasn’
t a very nice person. Before the reception, presumably before he started on the alcohol, he was mean to his new bride.”
Samantha clinked her glass against mine. “Really? His bride seemed very upset. She was like a zombie by the time we got her out of the ambulance and into a wheelchair at Emerge. She was sobbing and crying, and it was hard to tell what she was saying, but I’m almost certain she said, ‘I shouldn’t have done it.’ ”
Chapter 11
Without taking a sip, I set my glass down on the granite countertop. “Jenn said what? She ‘shouldn’t have done it’? Done what? Poisoned her new husband?”
Samantha also set her glass down. “I’m not positive she said she shouldn’t have done ‘it’ whatever ‘it’ might have meant, but she quickly added, ‘I should never have agreed to marry him, should never have had a reception, certainly not there.’ And I’m sure about that last phrase, because my partner heard the same thing.”
“Jenn seems too sweet to harm anyone.” Biting my lip because people didn’t always act the way I expected them to, based on first or even hundredth impressions, I turned away and peered through the oven door. The lasagna was browning and bubbling. I put on oven mitts, removed the heavy casserole from the oven, and set it on the counter. I took the croutons out of the other oven and then flung the oven mitts down and asked Samantha, “Did you tell Brent what Jenn said?”
“No. I was almost certain she didn’t mean that she’d harmed her new groom. I thought she was just talking about regretting marrying him, or maybe she was sorry she held the reception in a place that, it turned out, killed him.”
“It wasn’t the place. But it might have been the crullers Tom and I made.” I mimed a Very Sad Face.
“If so, someone else poisoned them, not you.”
“Thanks.” I took a larger gulp of the Chianti than I meant to. “Do you know how Jenn is today?”
“She’s fine, last I knew. There were no signs that she’d been poisoned. She was released from the hospital this morning.”
“Still in her wedding gown?” I drizzled homemade Caesar dressing over the salad.
“You almost made me spew my wine! In Emerge they made her change into a hospital gown.”
“Not by herself, I hope. Her wedding dress had about a million tiny and unreachable buttons in back.”
Samantha peered at me over her glass. “Her sister was there.”
“Suzanne.” I sprinkled the croutons and slivers of Romano over the salad.
“Yeah, Suzanne. She didn’t say a lot on the way to the hospital, other than urging me to drive faster, but she did mention that she’d have to bring Jenn something to wear home besides that wedding gown.”
I carried the salad to the dining room. “How did Suzanne seem, besides planning what her sister might wear next?”
Carrying our goblets of wine, Samantha followed me. “She was clenching her teeth most of the way into town, probably to keep them from chattering. I turned up the heat to the passenger seat as high as it would go, and she had a blanket, but her dress was more suited to a summer day, and shock gets to people that way sometimes. They can’t seem to warm up.”
I set the salad on the table and gestured for Samantha to take a seat. “So, as far as we know, Roger was the only person who ingested a killing dose of arsenic. If Jenn came in contact with the poison, it didn’t affect her too badly.”
Samantha pulled out her chair and sat down. “She passed out.”
I sat, too. “That was understandable. We’d just told her that the ambulance had come for Roger. Did anyone else complain of symptoms last night? You’d think that if someone dipped crullers in arsenic, he or she might have gotten at least a little sick.”
“We didn’t respond to any other calls last night that could have been due to poisoning, but when we were driving from Fallingbrook to the lodge, we saw a small red car stopped beside the road. The car was fogged up inside, but I slowed and turned a spotlight on it, and my partner and I could make out someone in the driver’s seat. He was hunched over with his face in his hands.”
“A man.”
“I could tell that much. I’m good at things like that.”
I gave her an affronted side-eye.
“He was wearing a suit. We were about to radio for someone to check on him, but he drove away, and we never saw him again.”
“What color was his hair?”
“I couldn’t tell, but it was neither very light nor very dark.”
“Which direction did he go?”
“East, but the next right turn would have taken him to Fallingbrook.”
“Did you get his license number?”
“My partner might have.”
“If he did, he should give it to Brent. Maybe the man was feeling guilty for poisoning Roger.”
Samantha nodded. “I’ll tell him. We didn’t think of that, even though Brent had warned us to suit up for possible airborne poisons. We’re programmed to look for illness and injuries, not killers. As far as I know, no one else from the lodge reported being sick last night or today.”
“Was your ambulance thoroughly cleaned after Roger rode in it?”
It was her turn to look insulted. “Of course. The lodge, too, apparently, except maybe the banquet hall. Last I knew, it was still closed, but maybe that’s only because of the decorations. Do you think they keep that room decorated like that all the time? It was a little over the top.”
“The gold and periwinkle touches must have been Jenn’s, but I don’t know about all those white curtains.”
She frowned. “Not the best setup for getting rid of airborne contaminants.” Then a grin lit her mischievous face. “Sorry for sounding like a textbook.” She became serious again. “As far as I know, no one has come down with symptoms of arsenic poisoning from being near all that drapery.”
By the time we finished our salad, the lasagna was firm enough to cut.
Samantha tasted it. Her eyes closed. “This is even better than last time.”
After we ate seconds, I apologized, “I’m afraid I have no donuts for dessert.”
“Uh-oh. Did last night put you off donuts?”
“Deputy Donut was closed today, and I never seem to make them at home anymore.”
“Why was your shop closed?”
“Brent had it searched for arsenic. They didn’t find any, but the Jolly Cops Cleaning Crew had already cleaned, so today’s search by the hazmat guys probably won’t be considered conclusive. However, Brent impounded our Deputy Donut car and will have it checked also.”
“Brent suspects you?”
“Standard protocol. Clearing Tom and me, if he can, allows him to investigate more likely suspects.”
Samantha steepled her hands near her heart and made a swoony cross-eyed face. “Brent would do anything for you.”
“He’s all yours.”
“Don’t think so.”
I held both hands up, palms toward Samantha. “He’s certainly not mine, no matter what you and Misty like to pretend. Besides, you know what he’s like—he always has a girlfriend.”
“A new one every few weeks.” She had to know she was exaggerating. “He never stays with any of them very long.” She swirled the wine in her glass and looked down into it. “But come to think of it, I haven’t seen him with anyone since . . . I’m not sure when. Probably over a year.”
Brent and I had regained our friendship over a year ago, but I wasn’t about to dwell on that coincidence or think about the fact that he and I—and Dep—occasionally got together for quick dinners before Brent had to go back to work. “Go for him, Samantha.” They’d be cute together.
“He belongs to you.”
“Does not!” Sometimes Samantha, Misty, and I sounded exactly like we had when we first met, back in junior high. Too bad Misty wasn’t here to join the conversation. Where was Misty? She hadn’t returned my call. “Besides . . .” I drained my glass. “He’s not Alec, and I’m never falling for another man who works in a dangerous
profession. And in addition to all of that, Brent prefers tall women.”
Samantha looked down at Dep, sitting patiently on the floor beside Samantha’s chair. “Too many excuses for any of them to be believable.”
I stood. “Ha. Would you like some ice cream? I got it from that new shop where they make it themselves.”
“Yum! Yes!”
“Vanilla, cappuccino, or some of each?”
She didn’t hesitate. “All of them.”
I gave us each two scoops, and a shot of coffee liqueur, which we both poured over the ice cream and ate with a spoon. It was scrumptious.
I told Samantha, “Misty came to the lodge last night after you left. Brent asked her to take Scott’s statement.”
Between the spot of ice cream on Samantha’s cheek and the pink streaks in her hair, she resembled a happy elf, possibly one with a secret.
“Samantha! Do you know where Misty is tonight? Is she with Scott? I invited her to join us and she never answered my call.”
“I don’t know where she is or who she’s with.”
My phone rang. It wasn’t Misty. It was Brent, calling from his personal cell phone, not the police department’s number. “I have your car,” he growled in a dramatically dangerous voice, “and your clothes. I’ll bring them back for a ransom in donuts.”
I growled back in an equally dangerous voice, “I wasn’t able to make donuts today.”
“Slacker. I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?”
“Sure.” Not really, if Samantha’s going to pretend it means that Brent and I are in some sort of pre-romance. I disconnected.
Samantha stared wide-eyed at me. “What’s with the sexy voice?”
“It wasn’t sexy. It was threatening.”
“Right. Who were you”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“threatening?”
“Only Brent,” I said in a totally businesslike voice. “He was growling.”
“What? Brent? Growling at you?”
“Pretend growling. He was telling me that the Deputy Donut car and my clothes tested negative for arsenic. He’s bringing them over.”
Goodbye Cruller World Page 8