Too Sweet to Die

by T. Doyle

  “I sincerely hope not. How crazy is your mom?” Kristi asked.

  “Well, she’s not hearing-voices crazy—she’s more leave-the-stove-on crazy.” Ray played with the rim of his glass.

  Kristi chuffed. “On a scale of one to shaving Mr. Graham’s Sheepdog for pooping on your lawn; where’s your mom?”

  I blinked and looked to Joe for confirmation that Mr. Graham’s shaved sheepdog was part of the infamous history of Forest Forks. His yeah-what-are-you-going-to-do eye roll confirmed it.

  “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds it may incriminate me.” Ray took a swig.

  “I knew it was her.” Kristi punched his shoulder. “Just do me a favor and find out if your mother has any plans to murder my aunt.”

  “I’ll do that.” Ray crossed his heart.

  Kristi studied him closely, and then relaxed. “Okay. Thanks.”

  Ray eyed me like I was the last crescent roll in the basket. “Charlie, you’re gonna have to go with me for that conversation.”

  “Why me?” I asked.

  “Because my mom likes you, and she’s less likely to smack me in front of you.”

  “Are you afraid of your mother, Ray?” My lips twitched, but I contained the grin and sipped my beer.

  “Lady, Attila the Hun would cross the street to avoid her.” He finished his drink.

  The hostess approached. “Y’all want a booth together?”

  “That’d be great,” Kristi said.

  “This way.” The hostess motioned with the menus.

  Wondering if we’d unintentionally cock-blocked Ray, I decided I didn’t care. I slid off the stool, grabbed my beer and followed Joe, sliding into the booth beside him. My hand automatically found his under the table.

  Ray followed Kristi, and crowded her in the booth.

  “Afraid to be alone with me, Kristi?” Ray murmured.

  “Nah. You do realize I can surgically remove all your interesting bits in minutes, right?” Kristi tilted her head and batted her eyes.

  Joe choked on his beer.

  I patted Joe’s back. “Jeez, I was worried about cock-blocking and you’re ready to go Lorena Bobbit or Lizzie Borden.” I saluted Kristi.

  Ray eased away from her. “That’s a bit vicious.”

  Kristi’s self-deprecating half-shrug was at odds with her mischievous smile. “I get that a lot. Well, that and ‘how can you be around dead people all day’?”

  “They don’t ask stupid questions.” Ray dead-panned.

  “Exactly.” She nudged his shoulder. “What are you doing, now that you’re retired?”

  He stroked his chin. “Growing a beard.”

  Kristi pet his cheek. Was she intentionally flirting with him?

  Ray pulled his head back, his expression curious.

  Kristi caressed his chin hairs some more. “It’s nice. Not too long, soft. It works for you.”

  Ray relaxed. “Mom hates it.” He stretched his arms out, dropping them on the back cushion, a whimsical smile in his eyes.

  “Did you two date in high school,” I asked.

  “God, no.” Kristi’s quick answer didn’t seem to bother Ray.

  Ray pointed to Joe. “How’d you meet Charlie?”

  “I was a lowly chief-resident working in the ER when she came in for her externship. And that was that.” Joe wrapped his arm around me.

  “He literally came up to me, shook my hand, licked the back of it and said, ‘I licked it, this one’s mine,’ in front of several strangers.” I snuggled in closer, loving Joe’s warmth and sense of humor.

  He kissed my cheek. “And she played hard to get.”

  “True.” I kissed his chin. “I refused to marry him the first time he asked. However, we’d only been dating for two months at the time.”

  “When you know, you know.” His certainty lit a fire that heated me from my head to my toes.

  Ray sat back, his gaze sliding from Joe to me and back to Joe. “So, if you were in residency, then she was in college. The age difference is what, eight years?”

  “Six. I saved time and married my trophy wife first.” Joe squeezed my shoulder.

  Ray laughed, and then he pointed at me. “And you keep giving me crap.”

  “Trust me, he was totally immature when we met.” I leaned into Joe. “And twenty-six years later, I’m still in love with him.”

  “Crazy about you, too, babe.” Joe kissed the top of my head.

  The waitress appeared, gave us the usual spiel, and we ordered our usual pizza. The Popeye with shrimp. It had spinach, garlic, white cheese sauce, and shrimp, and required an hour on the elliptical every day for the following week—but so worth it.

  “I’ll have the Meatza and water.” Ray handed her the menu.

  “You sharing that pizza?” Kristi asked.

  “If I have to.” Ray cast a sideways glance at Kristi. “Come on, you know you want cold pizza for breakfast.”

  “Fine.” Kristi handed the waitress her menu. “I’ll have a small Greek.”

  Ray waited until the waitress left before he leaned over to Kristi. “I’m a big Scot, want me for dessert?”

  Kristi groaned. “So much cheese, you’re making me lactose intolerant.”

  Ray laughed, the sound hearty and pure. “But I made you smile.”

  Kristi peered at him over her beer. “So do cat memes.”

  Ray cringed. “That hurts.”

  “You’ll survive.” She shot me a look, amused and teasing.

  Yep, they were definitely flirting.

  “Anyway…” I cleared my throat. “How common is it for an insulin pump to malfunction?”

  “I tried to look it up,” Joe said. “The data isn’t reported publicly.”

  “It was probably user error,” Kristi said.

  I played with the condensation on my glass. “I don’t believe that. Oscar was too careful.”

  Joe patted my thigh. “Hilda Collins died a few days ago. Any more news on that?”

  Kristi gave a quick shake of her head. “She’s not my case, but I overheard her death looks like complications from her diabetes, like she missed her dose and slipped into a coma. Did you know her, Joe?”

  “I replaced her hip a while back.” He raised an eyebrow. “And that makes the second diabetes related death.”

  “Ray’s mom thinks Parker Collins murdered Hilda for the inheritance.” I said.

  Joe tapped the table. “That’s kind of weak. It’s not like they had a ton of money. They were comfortable but they didn’t buy expensive cars or have a second home.”

  Kristi leaned forward. “I saw Parker driving a brand-new Audi A7. That’s a seventy-thousand-dollar car.”

  “Jeez. I wonder what happened to the Camry?” Marabel was looking for a good used car for her oldest kid.

  The waitress dropped off breadsticks and water.

  Ray took a breadstick, bit into it, the crumbs falling into his beard. “Jackie’s not driving the Camry. She was in a Lexus when I pulled up next to her at the Dollar General yesterday. And it’s very coincidental that two people died from insulin dosage errors. Can’t you check the bodies, somehow, see if Oscar got Hilda’s prescription or something?”

  Kristi shook her head. “No, it’s impossible to tell. And Hilda’s body is scheduled to be cremated.”

  Joe dipped a breadstick in marinara sauce. “We think Oscar was murdered. But Oscar and Hilda aren’t related. I can’t imagine how they’re connected.”

  “Why would anyone want them dead?” Kristi asked.

  “Maybe someone took Hilda’s insulin and overdosed Oscar with it,” Ray said. “Or maybe someone switched Hilda’s insulin with water, and she thought she was taking her insulin, but instead she ended up in a coma. Parker’s a pharmacist, he could have switched out the doses.”

  My heart beat faster. Ray’s suggestion made sense. “What if this was about Hilda all along?”

  Ray sat back, and tapped his fingers on the table. “It’s plausible, but why
cover Hilda’s murder with Oscar’s?” Ray scanned the room, and then shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Parker could make more money selling fentanyl or medical marijuana. He could make a fortune selling ephedrine to the right buyer,” Ray whispered.

  “True.” Joe wiped his fingers on a napkin. “And Parker could take a second mortgage on Hilda’s house if he was devious. Hilda was alert and aware, but I guarantee you if he asked her to sign a paper, she would have.”

  “Oscar had no enemies,” I argued. “Everyone he worked with loved him. He was organized, professional, and I refuse to believe he accidentally overdosed himself.”

  “I know, love.” Joe’s soft words did little to ease my frustration. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “It doesn’t make sense, yet.” Ray pointed at me. “If you give me the cabin keys, I’ll dust for fingerprints around the TV and doors. Guy probably wore gloves, but it’s worth a shot.”

  “That’d be great.” I fumbled through my purse for my keys and then took the key off the key ring.

  Ray took the key and turned to Kristi. “You sure you can’t slow down Mrs. Collins’s shake and bake date? Take some tissue samples for later?”

  Kristi’s eyebrows rocketed up. “What tissue samples would you like me to take?”

  “I don’t know. How do you prove death by insulin or not enough insulin?” Ray asked.

  “That’s the problem, you really can’t.” Kristi unwrapped her silverware and put her napkin on her lap. She straightened the knife and fork. “Besides, samples were taken and stored in the freezer, but they all point to the cause of death, which is related to the lack or overdose of insulin. The thing is, no one can rule out human error.”

  “Twice? In one town?” I sounded like a skeptic at a psychic convention.

  “Twice.” Kristi picked up a breadstick and broke off the end. “But I agree, it’s strangely coincidental.”

  Ray grunted, his mouth opened to say something, but he slammed it shut.

  The waitress plopped down our pizzas. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “No, thank you.” I smoothed a napkin over my lap.

  In between slices, Ray slid side glances at Kristi. And he kept the pizza sauce off his beard and shirt. “Kristi, are you glad you returned to Forest Forks?”

  “Yeah. The town’s changed, it's barely perceptible, but it’s there. I thought it was so stifling as a kid, but now we have two movie theaters and three coffee shops.”

  Ray’s eyes crinkled in the corners with his smile. “Yeah, life with just a bowling alley is the dark ages in comparison.”

  “What about you, Ray? Are you glad you’re back?” Kristi slid another slice onto her plate.

  “I’m not sure yet.” He stroked his beard. “If Dad hadn’t needed the hip replacement and Mom could take care of herself, I’d probably still be in Florida.”

  “Really?” I pushed our pizza toward Joe. “It’s so humid.”

  “I got used to the weather. It’s economical. Low taxes.” Ray smirked. “And there’s Spring Break.”

  “And there it is,” Kristi teased. “Just when you seem like an adult.” She sighed and wiped her hands on her napkin.

  “I’m an adult.” Ray’s shoulders rolled back, but his no-nonsense voice made me wonder if she’d hurt his feelings.

  “You’re living in your parents’ cabin.” Kristi reminded him.

  “I bought the cabin from Dad three years ago and we put the money in a trust for Mom when she was first diagnosed with Alzheimer’s.”

  “Oh, that was sweet, Ray.” I reached across the table and patted his hand.

  Kristi said nothing, but she edged a little bit closer to Ray.

  “It’s no big deal. I always liked it out there. It’s quiet. I figured I’d retire there someday.” His eyes rounded, unfocused. “Just not quite yet.”

  “You could start your own business,” Joe said. “Private investigator or security.”

  “Walmart greeter.” Kristi suggested with a too-bright smile.

  “I can’t rock the blue vest.” Ray sat back, his eyes lasered on Joe. “Do you think there’s a need for private investigators here?”

  The waitress flew by our table, hovering to drop off the check and carry-out boxes. People crowded the bar, several eyeing our table like Frodo and the ring.

  I put my napkin on my plate. “Tyler hired some guy out of Lexington a while back.”

  “Really? How do you know that?” Ray boxed up his pizza.

  “Marabel’s niece literally bumped into him at The Fuel Station.” I raised an eyebrow. “That girl is amazing at finding the new single men in town. She said he’s cute, but his schedule is awful.” I passed the other carryout box to Kristi.

  “How does that even come up in your daily conversations? ‘Hey Marabel, any new single guys in town?’ Who are you?” Ray said to me and then turned to Joe. “I bet the kids never got away with anything.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to me. “Why would Tyler need a private investigator from out of town?” Ray asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe you could ask him.” I wrinkled my nose. “Like, you know, investigate?”

  Joe grabbed the check. “We’re calling it a night. You two can play Columbo later.” He slipped bills into the check folder. “We’ll get it this time; you get the next one.”

  “I’d like that.” Ray raised an eyebrow to Kristi. “This was nice. We should do it again.”

  “Sure.” She patted Ray’s shoulder. “Joe will probably pick some place really expensive next time, so budget accordingly.”

  Ray glanced down at her hand. “You know, the evening doesn’t have to end. You could come to my place…”

  Kristi pushed him, sliding across the seat to get out of the booth. “That’s a hard no, big guy. I’m not some college girl, Ray.”

  Ray stood.

  Kristi inched past him. “See you around, guys.” She waved.

  “Good night, Kristi.” I scooted out of the booth.

  Ray watched her leave, and then caught the hostess’s attention and grinned like an adolescent at his first mixer.

  “Dumb ass.” I shot Ray my mom glare.

  Ray shook Joe’s hand. “I’m amazed you’re still tall after all the hammering you must get.”

  Joe hugged me close. “They’re fun when their feisty.”

  “Hey.” I stepped back. “I’m not feisty.”

  “My love.” Joe kissed my forehead. “You are perfect.”

  “I wouldn’t encourage her.” Ray gave me a chin nod. “You’re working Monday morning, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, slowly, unsure why he wanted to know.

  A quick smile lit his face. “Good. You can explain to Mom the consequences of committing murder. Bring your scary eyes.”

  Seriously?

  “Yeah, that look right there.” Ray clapped Joe on the shoulder. “Thanks for dinner.” He headed over to the hostess, and she handed him a piece of paper.

  Gross.

  Chapter Nine

  Joe nuzzled my shoulder, nibbled my neck, and then reached over to turn off my alarm. “Good morning, love. I’ll start the coffee.” I was sure Joe had a freaky superhero trait and could control his circadian rhythm.

  I rolled over and reminded myself that I needed to get up now or I’d be late to work, and I wouldn’t have time to tame my hair from its 80s big ‘do tendencies. My feet hit the ground and I stood.

  Joe rewarded me with a hug and slapped my butt. “Hit the showers, champ.”

  I may have muttered something about perkiness not being an endearing quality. But, after my shower and the scent of fresh brewed coffee hit me, I appreciated Joe’s cheerfulness. I kissed his cleanly shaven face. “Thanks, sweetie.”

  He stepped into the shower and I reciprocated the butt slap.

  “After work I’m going with Ray to a couple of the casinos. We’re going to see if any of the managers remember Oscar.” I dressed in my scrubs and towel dried my hair.

&nb
sp; “Okay. What’s the plan for dinner? Or will you be back by then?” He poked his head out of the shower. “I’m asking for a friend.”

  “You and your friend, Mr. Stomach, will be happy to know I’m making dinner at the usual hour.”

  “I can pick something up.”

  “I love that you’ve offered, but after the pizza, I need to eat at home or live at the gym.”

  “Salad it is then.” He saluted and returned under the water, singing jingles from old commercials, mostly on key.

  I moussed, goosed, and spritzed my hair. Makeup was a cinch, mascara, eyeliner, and lipstick.

  I pulled meat out to defrost, poured my second cup of coffee into my to-go cup, and made Joe some toast. He grabbed the toast, kissed me, hugged me, have-a-good-day’d me, and was out the door.

  Driving to work, I reminded myself of my goals: talk to Ray’s mom about the consequences of committing murder, find out which one of Johnny’s kids was the medical marijuana entrepreneur, and schedule a hearing test for Nora.

  I drove past the visitor’s parking lot. The building sign read “naively Slung Views” and I pondered the possible metaphorical meanings. At least the anagrams were G-rated. I parked next to Marabel’s Honda, in my favorite spot, with a pothole on the passenger’s side that was still filled with water from the weekend rain. Potholes riddled the employee’s parking lot, giving it a lunar landscape atmosphere. Repaving was supposedly on the corporation’s list of future improvements, hopefully before they replaced the sign. I picked my way past the puddles to the employee entrance.

  The locker room had an excited hum of conversation, and the occasional slam of a bright blue locker door. It was my first day back, and I was greeted with several sorry-about-Oscar sentiments from my co-workers.

  “Thank you so much for the card. I really appreciated it.” I offered a quick smile, and shuffled past Diane and Megan to my locker.

  Marabel stood in front of her locker, and put her lunch bag on the shelf. “How are you doing, really?”

  “Better, thanks. And thank you for removing me from the schedule last week.” I tucked my phone in my back pocket and locked up my purse.

  Marabel pouted in the mirror on her locker door and reapplied her lipstick, a bright red smile against her warm brown skin. “Of course.” She smacked her lips together and dropped the lipstick in her pocket. She closed her locker and spun the combo.