by Sarah Kelly
Lillian sat at an armchair, sipping from a delicate looking cup of tea. She just wore a comfortable looking sweater and pants combo, her thick gray hair brushed away from her face. She looked up as they came in, her face solemn. “We took all the Christmas decorations down.” She slumped a little in her chair. “Hello.”
Rose hurried over. “This is India.”
“Your daughter, yes. How do you do, India.” Lillian stared into a teacup, and India realized in horror that Lillian must have been thinking of her own daughter.
It might even look like Rose was highly insensitive, bringing India there for the first time when Mariette had just been killed. India wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible, but she guessed the damage had already been done, and it would be terribly rude to dash out of there as soon as she’d arrived. “Hello, Mrs…”
“Lillian,” Lillian said.
“Hello, Lillian. We’re so sorry about what happened.”
“Sit down, dear,” Lillian said with a smile up at her. “Both of you. It’s not your fault, in the least. Please don’t tiptoe around me. My grief is my own, not to spread around. I’m a firm believer in that.” She pushed her chin up. “That’s what Harold always said. I’m so glad he isn’t here to see this. I had to send Horatio up to bed, he was being so unpleasant.”
“He’s here?” Rose asked.
Lillian nodded, and clinked the teacup back on its saucer. “He did not want to stay in their apartment any longer. He cannot function without my Mari…” She could not finish the word, and swallowed. “Besides, Denise, caring soul that she is, wants to have him close by where she can keep an eye on him. We all know his tendency toward self destruction, don’t we?”
“Perhaps Yasmin will keep him on the straight and narrow,” India offered.
Lillian tutted loudly. “That girl. I expect she is having a party right at this moment. She despised my daughter and often took it upon herself to argue with her on Horatio’s behalf. The boy had nothing to gripe about with such a talented, driven mother, but you know how we humans are, always have to find something to complain about. The boy probably just let one or two grumbles slip, and Yasmin marches down from the Snape house to raise hell. The Snapes live just behind the flower shop.” She shook her head. “It’s like they want to spy on my girl.”
India remembered what the mayor had said about the parking lot being a courtyard. “I thought the Snapes had been there a long time.”
Both Lillian and Rose shot India a deathstare, and she decided that would be the last time she would open her mouth.
“Anyone with any decency would have moved home,” Lillian said. “Not hung around so they could peek into someone else’s business at any time.”
India supposed the grief was making Lillian unreasonable, because there was no way a family should uproot themselves because a business owner moved in next door.
Luckily Amy and Denise came in at that very moment, each holding a tray.
“Why, that’s a veritable feast!” Lillian exclaimed. “My appetite seems to have returned in full force. My stomach feels like a cavern.”
“That’s good,” Rose said. “You weren’t feeling up to eating much before, were you?”
Denise set her tray, loaded with cupcakes, cookies, a teapot and further teacups, down on a side table. Her hands made a mark in the dust. “Oh help,” she said, looking up around them, embarrassed. “You’ll have to excuse us. The house… well, cleaning has taken a back seat.”
“As it should,” Rose said. “You don’t have to apologize to us.” Denise still looked awkward and ashamed, so she added, “You’re obviously doing a splendid job looking after Lillian.”
Denise managed a smile for the first time since India had seen her. “Actually, Lillian is doing better in a number of areas. She could barely hold a teacup for herself before, her hands were so weak.”
“I would scald myself,” Lillian said. “I felt rather undignified.” She looked over Amy’s tray as she placed it on another side table. “What are those, dear?”
“Jamaican dumplings,” Amy said.
India smiled. “My fiancé and father made them together. They’re very nice.”
“Jamaican, hmm? Why not. Put one on my saucer,” Lillian said, holding it out to Amy. “Thank you, dear.”
Rose took the plate of cupcakes and offered one to India, who readily accepted. “You do seem much better, Lillian.”
“I am, certainly.” Lillian tore off a piece of dumpling and placed it daintily in her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “Oh, yes, lovely. Lovely, dear. My compliments to Eric and young Xavier.”
India smiled. “They’ll be glad you liked it, I’m sure.”
Lillian looked like she was thoroughly enjoying herself, taking alternate bites of cupcakes and scones and dumpling as she asked after their Christmas plans. But after a couple of minutes her hands flopped into her lap and her face fell. Denise rushed over to her and patted her on the hand. “What’s wrong, Lillian?”
“Mariette won’t get to have another Christmas, ever, will she?” Lillian stared off into space, the corners of her mouth turned. “My vivacious girl. Ever so take-charge and responsible. She did not have to do the things she did, but out of the goodness of her heart she did, and never once complained.”
India wondered just how different Mariette’s public and private personas must have been. Or if she had put on a spectacular act for her mother. Because, on surface value, there seemed to be very little ‘goodness of her heart’.
“Don’t upset yourself now,” Denise said softly. “You’ll make yourself sick again.”
Lillian looked at her, her blue eyes quite piercing. “No, I shan’t. I am getting much stronger now.” She sank back in her chair. “Still, perhaps you are right. I want to talk about her, though.”
Denise patted her again, very gently. “Maybe after our guests have gone.”
“No, now,” Lillian said firmly.
“We came to offer our condolences,” Rose said. “If you would like to talk about her, of course we will listen.”
Amy and India nodded.
Lillian broke out into a smile. “What good people you are. Now, Denise, stop fussing over me and pour everyone some hot tea, please. It’s not too long before they’ll be back out in the cold. We must warm them up.”
Denise did as she was asked. “Cream? Sugar?” She handed around the teacups and saucers, and they passed the cream and sugar between them as Lillian talked.
“The word is, it was…” Lillian gulped and fear flashed through her eyes. But she pushed her chin forward and said, “…murder. But I am not sure that’s true. Perhaps it is, perhaps not. Sheriff Rhodes says we have to wait for the post mortem. She hit her head and fell. It could have been an accident, or something more sinister. He told me some wedding planner was arrested as a formality but will be out within a day or so.”
“That’s India’s wedding planner,” Amy said. “Elise.”
Lillian looked genuinely shocked. “Goodness.”
“I don’t think she did it,” India said. “Definitely not.”
Lillian regarded her for a moment, her blue eyes in deep thought. “I quite agree. However, Denise and I have no idea who could have done it,” Lillian said. “We were both up here having afternoon tea, unfortunately. I had toyed with the idea of taking a walk down to see Mariette that afternoon. She had called me to say I should.” A cloud passed over her face. “If only I had… Perhaps…”
“None of this, now,” Denise said, looking pale and concerned. “You’ll worry yourself to death with this. Perhaps you might have prevented her death, yes. But perhaps we’d have been killed, too. If the murderer had come along to kill her and found us there, they might have decided they needed us out the way as well.”
Lillian looked mournful. “Maybe that would have been best. Not for you, Denise, but for me. You could go and find another family to work for, and my miserable existence—”
&nbs
p; “Nonsense!” Denise said sharply. “You’re getting much better every day and you will have a long life yet.”
“Yes, I shall.” Lillian gave a small smile as she poured some cream in her tea, like she was trying to cheer herself up. “I shall. But what do you think, Rose? Do you think she was really murdered? I can’t see a killer hiding in Abingdon Fork, can you?”
Rose stirred her tea, the teaspoon clinking against the delicate teacup. “I am not entirely sure, to be truthful. India is probably the one you should ask, given…” She trailed off, obviously unsure of how to word it.
“She found the body,” Amy said tactlessly, then sipped her tea.
“Goodness.” Lillian’s hand shot to her chest. “Is that…? Oh. I see. Well, Sheriff Rhodes did tell me a local young woman found the body but I’d assumed it was that horrible creature Yasmin.”
“No, me, I’m afraid.” India gave a sympathetic half-smile. “And I’d be glad to tell you what I think of it all, only I’ve got to go to the bathroom first, if I can.”
Denise hurried to her feet. “Come on, sweetie. I’ll show you.”
“Thank you.”
India was directed down the corridor and through a white door into quite a spacious bathroom. “That’s the visitor’s bathroom,” Denise said, ushering her forward. When India got inside, she reveled in its upscale beauty. The taps were gold, the wallpaper was thick and luxurious, and the whole place smelled deliciously of lavender. There was even an antique chair in the corner, upholstered in gold and red striped fabric and stacked with books about gardening, and the history of Wisconsin, and English castles. A small open bin stood next to the sink, and India happened to look down at it while she washed her hands.
Toxico, she read on a scrap of paper that had obviously been ripped. India knew she shouldn’t snoop, but her curiosity got the better of her. She bent down to see if it was the only scrap there, but there were more. Plenty more. Her intrigue was chugging ahead full steam, and she picked the pieces out of the bin and knelt on the cream-carpeted floor to put them together.
Before long she read, Toxicology Report across the top. The next part of the puzzle she completed revealed Alpha Laboratories, Fond du Lac, along the bottom. The pieces in the middle were harder to assemble, as a great many of them were blank. But using the edge pieces to guide her, she finally made it all work. Some kind of reference number was in the top left corner.
In the center of the paper read:
Result of strip-based arsenic testing on provided sample: Above trace amounts detected
India actually gasped out loud. Arsenic? Her mind raced. She knew that was a poison, of course. But who commissioned the test? She turned all the little scraps of paper over, desperately searching for a name, but there was none. Surely this was related to Mariette’s murder somehow, but in what way? She certainly hadn’t been poisoned. Or perhaps the murderer was about to strike again, and poison would be their weapon of choice. But she quickly realized that didn’t make sense either, as why would they go to a lab to test for it? Unless they were unsure they had truly bought arsenic, wherever they’d sourced it from? But that would draw suspicion to them. She rocked back on her heels and tucked her hands under her armpits, thinking. Maybe someone believed they were going to be poisoned, then went to the lab with some kind of sample to check. And they were indeed right, if these results were anything to go by. Another murder had been averted, perhaps. India felt her heart race as urgency gripped her – the murderer had been planning to strike again. But now their victim was aware, at least. Would they confront the killer? That could be dangerous. India slid the scrap of paper with the reference number on into her pocket, but returned the rest to the bin.
Her mind positively buzzed with questions as she stood up and walked back to the drawing room. She ended up dragging her feet, and then even paused to lean against the wood paneled wall. It could have been anyone who brought that report, given there had been so many visitors to the house. But why had they torn it up and put it in that particular bin? She just couldn’t make head or tail of it.
Eventually Amy came out of the room, and looked startled when she saw India. “What are you doing out here?” she said, screwing her nose up. “I was coming to look for you.”
“Come,” India whispered, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her into the hallway. She then explained what she’d found.
Amy’s eyes widened. “That is so weird.” Then after a couple moments, she laughed softly. “Unless…”
“What?”
“I watched this documentary once.”
India raised her eyebrows. “You, a documentary?”
“Hey! Just because I like my reality stars doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain, thank you very much.” She looked genuinely offended.
“All right, sorry,” India said quickly. “Tell me.”
“It was about arsenic in water. People in this town were getting real mad because there was too much arsenic in their drinking supply. You know, apparently it’s in a lot of drinking water. I think they said it was especially from water from underground, like water they drill for or something? I don’t exactly remember. But my point is it might just be that. Like someone was concerned about it and they did a test.”
India didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. If anything, she was just more confused. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s that.” But she didn’t feel convinced.
“Could be,” Amy said. “But then, with a murder just happened and the best they could arrest was your wedding planner, you know there’s something weird going on.”
“That’s exactly what I feel!” India whispered, passionate. “There is something weird going on, I’m sure of it. I just have no idea what.”
Amy shook her head. “You and Xavier are just the same, man. My gosh. I know you two are mystery solvers extraordinaire, but it’s your wedding in two days. You need to chill the heck out and let the sexy Sheriff do his job.”
“Amy! He’s like sixty years old!”
Amy winked. “So? I didn’t say I was going to marry him, did I? Just a little appreciation for God’s good work in making such a handsome specimen.”
India burst out laughing. “Amy, you are the absolute limit.”
Amy made a little bow. “Why thank you. Thank you very much.”
CHAPTER 7
When India woke up the next morning, she was still full from the Jamaican feast Xavier and her father had cooked up while she and Rose and Amy had been at the Thomas household. It had been a truly glorious spread, and the kitchen windows had been steamed up with the deeply seasoned heat as they’d taken their seats at the table.
“It’s so hot in here we could actually be in Jamaica right now,” Amy had said, fanning her face.
Then Xavier had started doing his Jamaican impression, which had improved but was still so terrible India had to bury her head in her hands. Then her dad had tried it out, which had left her screeching with embarrassment and Amy laughing so hard she nearly fell out of her chair.
As she lay in the covers, toastily warm and staring at the cozy honey-colored wooden ceiling, she couldn’t believe her wedding was the next day. This was the last day she would be a Miss. The last day she would be India Kirby. By the end of the tomorrow she’d be a married woman, which was both a joyous and intimidating thought. She wondered if Xavier was next door staring at the same ceiling and thinking the same thing.
That day there was so much to do. First they were to pick up the bouquet, fascinator flowers and lapel pins from Julian Sawyer. Then they were to visit Elise – who had rung the previous night to let them know she was to be released around lunchtime – and get to Amy’s in Melville to finish off the final catering details. It was going to be a truly packed day, India knew, but she supposed it was better that way. She could work off the wedding jitters.
***
Xavier’s boots were startlingly black against the white snow, which dazzled in the early morning sun, the top layer melti
ng and pooling into little puddles. His brow was creased with thought. “I don’t know what that could mean.”
“Me either,” said India.
It was quite a long way to Julian Sawyer’s florist, so they had ample time to mull over the toxicology report. The street was so clear and thick with snow they walked right down the middle of it. The backstreets didn’t get salted as regularly, and a heavy drift had fluttered its way down the previous night.
Xavier then guessed something India hadn’t thought of. “What if it’s part of the post mortem on Mariette’s body?”
India paused. “You think that could be possible? Like maybe someone had poisoned her but hadn’t used quite a high enough dosage, then got fed up with waiting and stormed in there and gave her a head injury?”
Xavier shook his head, already looking dubious. “Maybe. But then... maybe it wasn’t on Mariette’s body. Maybe she got the report done when she was alive. And knew there was someone out there ready to kill her. Perhaps even knew who it was.”
“I guess that would explain why she was so unpleasant when we met her,” India said, nodding slowly. “She was terrified she was going to die. I feel sorry for her now.”
Xavier took her gloved hand in his and squeezed it. “We’re going to solve this, I just know it.”
“I hope so,” India said, looking at his eager brown eyes and curling black lashes. “And I know it’s such a long shot but I wish we could wrap it all up today, so it wouldn’t be hanging over our wedding.”