Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  Most of the time at the diner, Edie sat up front behind the counter, a bouffant Buddha in a flowery dress, watching over her domain, and her cash register. Like a gatekeeper at a hip nightclub, no matter how long the line, Edie would wave in her favorites, like Suzanne and her friends, ahead of others. This practice made some customers irate and complain that they wouldn’t come back. But Edie didn’t care. She had more than enough customers for two restaurants, Maggie always said. Suzanne often thought Edie’s blasé attitude made the retro diner seem more exclusive than it actually was. And that made more people want to eat there, too.

  They all knew the menu by heart and ordered quickly. While waiting for their food to come, Suzanne told her friends about the call from Charles and being questioned by him and his partner, Detective Oliver.

  “Finally, I realized it was getting too crazy and I really needed a lawyer. So I called Dana, and Helen Forbes came right away. She was terrific. Wonder Woman and Perry Mason wrapped into one.”

  “Helen is terrific. She helped me a few years ago, when Amanda Gorman died and the police kept badgering me.” Maggie’s expression was grim and Suzanne could see the memory still stung. “It’s no joke when they have you in one of those little rooms and start hammering away. You’re likely to say anything.”

  “Tell me about it,” Suzanne agreed.

  The waitress arrived and served their dishes, setting a fluffy, golden waffle in front of Suzanne first.

  Dana, the healthiest eater in the group, had ordered avocado toast, a trendy addition to Edie’s traditional menu.

  Lucy always ordered the same thing, scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese and whole wheat toast. Unexciting, but it did look tasty. “Were they really accusing you of causing her death? But how? She died of an allergic reaction.”

  “Yes, they were. Or about to, before Helen put the brakes on. Liza was highly allergic to Botox and they think someone put the solution in a diet shake and planted it in the office fridge with her initials on it.”

  “Charles told me, but I didn’t really believe it. It’s too bizarre for words.” Maggie shook her head and took a bite of a toasted bagel.

  “When they first asked me, I couldn’t remember about the allergy. Then the police reminded me of that silly Botox party I went to. Janine, our receptionist, was trying to earn a little extra money, so she hosted this party. She did demonstrations and sold do-it-yourself kits of Botox. She held it right in the office, so it was pretty hard to avoid attending. Just about everyone was there. Even Harry and Lyle. Their wives were curious. Except for Liza. She said she’d tried it once and had a bad reaction.”

  “And that’s how you were supposed to know that she was allergic?” Dana asked.

  “That’s right. But as Helen pointed out, everyone in the office knew, too. And they all went to the party and bought the stupid stuff. Which didn’t work that great anyway.”

  Lucy caught her eye as she sipped her mug of coffee. “I remember now. The eyebrow incident?”

  Her friends laughed quietly. Maggie rose to her defense. “This is not a good time for teasing. Suzanne is upset.”

  Suzanne sighed, but she also had to smile and even laugh at the joke, too. “All right, I can take it. You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” she asked Lucy.

  Lucy quirked one eyebrow up and even tilted her head a bit, for emphasis. “I’m sorry.... I didn’t mean to make you feel bad . . . Sherlock.”

  Suzanne had looked like Sherlock Holmes. She couldn’t deny that. All she’d needed was a curvy pipe and one of those peeked hats with the earflaps. “At least it wore off quickly, once I sought medical help. I did learn my lesson. Who knows? Maybe I’m allergic to it too and that’s why it made me look so funny.”

  “I think you stuck the needle in the wrong spot,” Dana said quietly. “Luckily, it didn’t do any lasting damage.”

  “Except to my credit card. I didn’t dare tell Kevin I bought it. I didn’t even take it home.”

  “What did you do with it?”

  Suzanne shrugged and took a bite of her breakfast. “I couldn’t return the kit so I just threw it out.”

  Dana squeezed a bit of lemon and a pinch of salt on top of her avocado toast. “What did Helen say when the police were trying to connect all these crazy, random dots?”

  “She was awesome. She tore their theories to shreds.” Suzanne sat back and did her best to mimic the commanding voice and manner of her attorney. “ ‘What is that supposed to prove? Suzanne was not the only person at the party who bought this product. Everyone in her office was there. Except the victim. And anyone can buy this stuff online, twenty-four/seven.’ And then she said some other things that more or less forced them to let me go.”

  Suzanne felt a chill recalling those moments. She was honestly scared. “Thank goodness I had Helen with me. She is one cool customer. Nothing they said rattled her. When I was alone with them, they twisted around every answer.”

  Suzanne looked across the table at Maggie. “Not Charles. He didn’t say that much. The other guy, Detective Oliver, did most of the talking.”

  Maggie nodded. Suzanne could tell she felt self-conscious talking about her boyfriend’s role in Suzanne’s trouble. Suzanne wondered if Maggie and Charles had spoken much about her—whether he thought she was innocent or really capable of such an act. But of course, Maggie would never say.

  “So Helen got you out of there, finally?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes, she did. Poor Kevin. He waited for hours. Again. Sitting on a hard plastic chair.” Suzanne sighed and ate another bite of the waffle, which was still warm and cooked just the way she liked it, crunchy on the outside and fluffy within.

  “What else did they say? How did they leave it with you?”

  Lucy leaned closer, eager to hear her answer.

  “Helen backed them down. But it’s not like I’m off the hook. Detective Oliver told me not to leave town.”

  Lucy sighed and shook her head. “What is that supposed to mean? Like you’re going to run off to Tahiti or something?”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad right now. I might check my frequent flyer miles.” Suzanne tried for a light tone, but she knew her friends could tell that she was worried.

  “Whatever twisted, far-fetched scenarios they come up with, you didn’t do it. They’ll finally have to move on and find the person who did,” Maggie insisted.

  “Sounds as if there are plenty of possibilities at Prestige Properties. So many people in your office had access to the Botox and knew about her allergy. And you told us Thursday night that other people you work with had grievances with her, too,” Lucy pointed out.

  “Yes, but Suzanne had the worst relationship with Liza. I think that’s why she was singled out,” Dana said. “It was very convenient that you both used the same diet drink. Anyone who wanted to implicate you could have taken the bottle out of your package, knowing it was covered with your fingerprints, and used it to kill her.”

  Dana’s summary made perfect sense, but also took Suzanne’s breath away. Then Lucy said, “Sounds like the police haven’t even finished investigating. There might be more.”

  Suzanne wanted to reply but a bite of her breakfast stuck in her throat. She sipped some water, then said, “Gee, guys . . . you make it sound as if someone is trying to make me look guilty. As if they’ve purposely framed me.”

  “I think you are being framed, Suzanne,” Dana replied quietly.

  Lucy nodded and touched her hand. “Sorry, but . . . I don’t think there’s much question about it.”

  Chapter 5

  “Really?” Suzanne asked the question, but knew in her heart it was true. “Who’d want to do that? Why pick on me?”

  “Your contentious relationship with Liza is well known. That must have put you at the top of the list,” Maggie said in an even tone. “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but that imbroglio at the meeting Thursday set the stage perfectly.”

  “The . . . what did you call it?” Co
nfident of her own vocabulary, Suzanne knew Maggie had her beat.

  “The brawl. The shouting match. The battle royal,” Lucy filled in.

  “How I regret that wretched day! If I could only go back and do it over again.” Suzanne sighed. “And isn’t it just like Liza to get back at me? Even from the other side? Maybe this is it. She’s finally won.”

  “Come on now, Suzanne.” Lucy slung an arm around her shoulder, her voice comforting and commanding at the same time. “You can’t think that way. It doesn’t do any good at all. If the police can’t see that all these clues are a complete hoax, we have to find out who did this.”

  “And we will,” Dana promised.

  Maggie sat silent, Suzanne noticed. Ever since her relationship with Charles had begun, she’d been torn about sticking her nose into police business and had even promised him a few times that she wouldn’t—always breaking those promises later.

  Lately, they’d been talking about moving in together, though no plans had been set. With Charles on this case, Suzanne could hardly blame her for hanging back. This one was close to home. Suzanne would never want to cause friction between Maggie and Charles. Not even over this.

  “You don’t have to say anything, Maggie. I’m giving you a pass,” Suzanne said quickly. “I’d hate to be the cause of any problems between you and Charles.”

  Maggie poured a drop of milk in her coffee and slowly stirred. “It’s the same old thing with us. I keep promising to mind my own business, but it never sticks for long. This time is different. If someone is really trying to stick you with the blame for Liza’s death, how can I sit idly by? I’ll help, if I can, Suzanne. You know I will. I’ll work it out with Charles when the time comes. Don’t you worry.”

  Suzanne hoped if the time came, it was as easy as Maggie made it sound.

  “Honestly, since he does know you socially, I think he should recuse himself from this case,” Maggie added. “I’ve been meaning to speak to him about that. We just haven’t gotten the chance.”

  Because he’s been busy every night, investigating the murder he thinks I committed . . . and interrogating me at the police station. Suzanne wanted to say that, but held her tongue.

  Lucy had pulled a copy of the Plum Harbor Times from her knapsack. It was opened to a back page and she set it on the table. “Liza’s obituary is in the paper today. There’s going to be a memorial service tomorrow.”

  “I knew it had to happen. But I’ve been dreading it,” Suzanne said honestly. “Even more, after my night at the police station. Word gets around so quickly,” she said, lowering her voice a notch.

  She glanced over her shoulder, wondering if people in town already knew the police had singled her out, and were those people talking about her?

  “Her obit says she died of heart failure, brought on by anaphylactic shock. Which is certainly true. But there’s nothing in the news section that embellishes on that. I guess the media will find out soon that the police are investigating,” Lucy said. “If they don’t know already.”

  “I wouldn’t worry about anyone knowing you were questioned. Other people will be called in, too,” Dana assured her.

  “You need to go to that service tomorrow with your head held high. You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Suzanne. You’re totally and completely innocent.” Maggie’s tone was firm and bolstering. “Remember what you told us about Annie Oakley? How you used to pretend when you were a little girl? I think it’s time to saddle up and channel your inner Annie O. You’ve faced worse than this. You’ll get through it.”

  Suzanne had to smile at the reminder. One night while stitching merrily away, they had started talking about their childhood imaginary friends and heroes. At the age of five or so, Annie Oakley had been Suzanne’s secret playmate and even her alter ego.

  “You’re right. I have to keep reminding myself, I’ve done nothing wrong. It will be hard, but I have to stick with my routine. Go into the office today and go to that service tomorrow with the rest of the staff. Even if they are all gossiping their heads off about me.”

  “If it’s any help, I’ll be there, too,” Maggie promised. “I want to pay my respects to Ruth. And to Liza and her sister.”

  “I only knew Liza by reputation, but I’ll go for your sake, Suzanne,” Lucy said.

  “Me too,” Dana leaned forward and caught her eye. “We’ll be there for you. We can all sit together. It will give us a chance to scope out the players, don’t you think?” she asked the others.

  “That’s what I was thinking, too.” Lucy spread out the newspaper and looked down at the page with Liza’s obituary. “Should I read this out loud? It’s not that long, but interesting.”

  “I’d like to hear it,” Maggie said.

  Suzanne glanced down at the page and read the headline. LIZA ANN DEVEREAUX, PROMINENT BUSINESSWOMAN AND PHILANTHROPIST. Philanthropist? Was that really true?

  Liza’s head shot, the one she used for business cards and advertising listings, was enlarged to a prominent size on the page. She was wearing a big, friendly smile, along with a satin blouse with a shawl collar and her pearls, of course. Below that, a long article was printed.

  “Let’s see . . . I won’t read it word for word,” Lucy began. “Sounds like she had a privileged upbringing. She was raised outside Boston, in Cambridge. Her father was a college professor and taught at MIT. The family also had houses in Kennebunkport and Florida. Prep school education, too. The Ackerly School in western Mass.”

  “I’ve heard of that place,” Dana said. “Difficult to get accepted there. Students are very bright and motivated.”

  “She was all that and more,” Suzanne murmured.

  “She also had an MBA in finance and worked for a big investment firm in Boston right out of college. Did you know that, Suzanne?” Lucy sounded surprised at Liza’s many pedigrees.

  “With all that high-powered experience, I wonder why she ended up out here? No offense, Suzanne,” Dana added quickly. “But sounds like she was more qualified for a job in a bank, or as a financial advisor somewhere. Why real estate in Plum Harbor?”

  “She gave up her job in the city when her husband bought a restaurant out here. I think they wanted to start a family, but that didn’t work out. Maybe for the best, all things considered now. That’s the story I heard,” Suzanne recalled. “Now that you mention it, she was a big fish in a small pond. The way she acted at work makes more sense now.”

  “It is interesting to hear about a person’s background and the experiences that shaped their personality.” Maggie leaned over, curiously peering at the article. “I think I know a bit about the philanthropy side. But what does it say there?”

  “Let’s see . . . She volunteered at the high school, in the Business Club and mentoring students, especially young women, who were interested in careers in finance and sales.”

  “I should do that,” Suzanne broke in. “When I have some spare time.”

  “Let’s put that one on your to-do list. You have some other priorities now,” Maggie suggested in an appeasing tone.

  “She was also on the board of an organization that helps homeless families and moves them out of the shelter system. She was a big fund-raiser for that cause.”

  Suzanne felt suddenly deflated and embarrassed. “For goodness sakes, the woman was practically a saint. You would have never known it, being around her day to day.” She glanced around, wondering if even her own friends would believe her. “I didn’t know half of this stuff. I mean, she acted like a snob, to the manor born, and all that. So of course I could tell she came from money. But all this charity and community service?” Suzanne shook her head. “She sure kept a low profile on that. Maybe she didn’t want anyone at the office to think she was a pushover.”

  “Maybe,” Maggie agreed. “Or maybe she was just . . . modest?”

  Suzanne had not considered that possibility, immediately assuming Liza had some defensive motivation for her secrecy about these matters.

  “Either way,
she did some good in the world, that’s clear.” Lucy looked up from the paper. “That’s saying a lot for a person. I think so, anyway.”

  “I agree,” Maggie replied.

  “The paper says she’s survived by her sister, Kira, her mother, Ruth, and husband, Nicolas Sutton.” Lucy looked up. “I wonder why it doesn’t say former or ex-husband? Maybe that’s a typo. Didn’t you say she was divorced?”

  “I thought she was,” Suzanne said. “I did hear it’s been going on a long time and he really dragged it out. Trying to get alimony. She was the big bread winner.”

  “That shows how far women have come. We were barely able to join the workforce not too long ago,” Maggie pointed out. “Still, I hate to see anyone take advantage in a divorce. Dissolving a marriage is hard enough.”

  “Sounds as if they were never officially divorced,” Dana said. “Which means he could inherit all of her estate. Never mind fighting for a slice in court.”

  “Good point, Dana.” Suzanne could tell the wheels in Lucy’s blond little head were turning. “A solid motivation to do away with your stubborn, almost ex-spouse. I’m going to look into that guy on the Internet.”

  “It is interesting to know more about Liza. It seems there was a lot to her life that she kept hidden. At least from the people she worked with,” Dana pointed out. “Maybe, down the road a bit, something in her past will help us figure out who’s trying to frame Suzanne.”

  “That could be. I’ll hold on to this.” Lucy closed the newspaper and slipped it back in her knapsack.

  Suzanne noticed Edie squeezing and wriggling her way to their table. She stood beside Maggie, nearly breathless. “Did you girls see the TV? That Liza Devereaux was murdered. It just came over the news.” She glanced toward the counter where an overflow of customers sat on stools. A large, flat screen TV hung over the cake stands and a pyramid of mini cereal boxes.

  Suzanne met Edie’s surprised expression and then glanced at her friends.