A Dose of Deadly Intentions

by Lucia N Davis

  “Yeah. I was… dreaming. It was so sad.”

  “Poor thing. Let me fix you some coffee. You go take a hot shower—that should help.” Phoebe got her up, fussing over her like a mother hen.

  In the shower, Sara let the water run over her body, trying to forget the emotions from her dream. The hotel’s body wash, a combination of mint and rosemary, slowly replaced the stench of the burning city lingering in her olfactory memory. When she left the steaming bathroom, a towel wrapped around her damp hair, she almost felt like her old self again. Phoebe had a cup of coffee waiting for her.

  Drinking her coffee, Sara could see that it was taking Phoebe all of her restraint not to bombard her with questions. Across from her, Phoebe’s leg was bouncing up and down so hard it was a miracle she didn’t bounce right off her chair.

  “You want to know what I dreamt?”

  “Yes! But take your time. Whenever you’re ready. And then I’ll call Jean, so she can listen in.”

  “I need to write it down anyway. Otherwise I may forget the details.”

  Phoebe called Jean while Sara took out her laptop. She began typing away, telling the story aloud as she made her notes.

  “What’s in an old fashioned again?” Jean asked.

  “Looking it up,” Sara said. “Bourbon, bitters, sugar, and orange.”

  “Who cares about the cocktail? You know what this means, right?” Phoebe’s eyes were bright. “This means that it was Julia you saw in the burning house. And William was the last person to see her. This raises all sorts of questions. Why did she die? She was just getting some last things—she was planning to leave! Yet she didn’t. That’s a bit strange, don’t you think?”

  Jean seemed more interested in Alice’s medication bottle. She kept pressing for more details, but Sara had precious little to offer.

  She tried to visualize the bottle again without much success. “Sorry, Jean, I only saw the word ‘cure.’ I presume the label said something like Take these miracle pills, the cure for any headache. They probably got away with that kind of thing in the 1900s.”

  “Yes, unfortunately,” the older woman said, “which is not helpful at all.”

  “I don’t understand why Julia and Alice were both buried in Washington, D.C.,” Sara said. “If it was Julia in the burning house, wouldn’t she have been buried in San Francisco?”

  “Well, they were sisters—” Phoebe said. Without finishing her sentence, she jumped up as if the chair had bit her. “Oh, geez, speaking of sisters, I forgot! The sister of the bride—maid of honor, mind you—called while you were in the shower. She left a message. I need to call back, and we should get dressed.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Yes, that too!”

  An hour and a half later, they were ready and on their way to the location. The wedding wouldn’t start until later, but Phoebe had to make sure the setup was going well. While Phoebe was taking care of things, Sara had little to do. So she called David. It went to voicemail, but she left him a sweet message and sent him a picture of her and Phoebe in their fancy attire. His reply didn’t take long.

  I like that dress on you.

  Thanks, she texted back.

  Sexy shoes.

  Yes, very sexy. They had a few delicate straps, showing off her slender feet. But she hadn’t worn such high heels in a while and felt a little wobbly. Which was not very sexy. Before Sara had formulated a witty reply, Phoebe waved her over.

  Sorry, got to go. Need to do some wedding stuff. Xxx

  She got busy placing the flower arrangements. Soon the first guests started to arrive. Letting Phoebe do her work, Sara politely blended into the background. Her only job for the evening itself was to take care of any wedding gifts. For now she could sit back.

  The ceremony went well, without any interruptions—not that she paid too much attention. During the reception, Sara installed herself near the gift table, grateful she didn’t have to walk around. She kept an eye on Phoebe, who seemed to be everywhere at once. On and off somebody would bring a gift over, keeping Sara sort of occupied. During a lull in the activities, she stared at the newlywed couple in the center of the room. They looked so happy. Maybe one day…

  “Sara?”

  The familiar voice startled her and she whirled around, almost losing her balance.

  “Sid?” Sara blinked a few times. “Oh, hey—I didn’t recognize you there!”

  Based on his outfit, Sid was one of the groomsmen. It was hardly his usual attire. Not only that, but he looked entirely different—his man-bun was gone, replaced by a short-trimmed cut. He sported a thin goatee that sharply accentuated his jawline. He looked like a new man, but still a very handsome one.

  “I didn’t recognize you either. You look nice. Your dress, it’s very beautiful. And those shoes…” He whistled.

  Sara’s face heated up. “Umm, thanks, I guess. You know the groom?”

  “You could say that. I’m his best man. He’s a co-founder of my company. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m helping out my… cousin. She’s the wedding planner.”

  “Ah, the busy bee over there.”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought you went back to the drab village life with that caveman of yours.”

  “That’s kind of offensive,” Sara said, crossing her arms. “Are you trying to insult me?”

  “Sorry, bad joke.” Sid shrugged and gave her one of his easy smiles. “He is a little hairy.”

  “So are you these days. What’s up with the facial hair?”

  He laughed out loud. “Oh, yes, the goatee. You don’t approve? The maid of honor suggested it.”

  “I see. Well, that’s good. It’s important to get along on a day like today.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Not really.”

  “Nice. Tell me, though, are you back? Did you get tired of playing Heidi?”

  “No, I’m just here for a quick visit. Helping out my cousin, like I said.” She turned to greet some guests who were leaving a gift at the table. “Sorry, Sid, gotta work.”

  “I understand. Have fun.” He leisurely walked off to the bar.

  While she was taking care of the gift, she tried to get a hold of herself. Even though she was not attracted to him, the shock of his being here had rattled her. And the conversation itself—something about his tone of voice was less than pleasant. Maybe he was ticked off about how David had shown him the door.

  Ugh, David. How was she supposed to explain this to him? The pesky little voice inside her head asked her if she even had to. She pushed it away, resenting herself for even thinking such a thing.

  The reception proceeded with dinner. To Sara’s relief, Sid did not return to bother her. He delivered a charming speech that got the crowd laughing and was not too embarrassing for the newlyweds.

  After dinner, as the music got louder, Sara spotted Sid dancing with the maid of honor, who was all over him. Maybe that would keep him busy. The night was wrapping up—soon the party would be over and she could return to the hotel. Her feet were screaming, vehemently disagreeing with her choice of footwear. She hobbled over to Phoebe. “I think it went well?”

  “So far, so good. How are you?”

  “Good. And a little anxious to get going. Sid’s here.”

  “Who? Oh, the yoga man you told me about? Where?”

  “The best man.”

  “That Sid? I thought your Sid had long hair.”

  “He found a hairdresser apparently.”

  Phoebe observed him for a while. “I don’t think you need to worry about him. He seems taken by the maid of honor. Besides, he’s pretty drunk. He may just pass out.”

  “How long do we have left?”

  “An hour or so. Almost done.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Actually, yes. Would you mind calling the hotel to make sure the bridal suite’s all ready?”

  “No problem.” Sara stepped outside to find a quieter spot. It was almost
a relief to be away from the noise, even though the music was vibrating through the walls, each song coming through quite clearly. After the hotel call was taken care of, she lingered for a bit, having no desire to return to the party. Her feet were killing her, every step torture. The shoes might be sexy, but they should have been advertised as crazy uncomfortable.

  The night was beautiful, with a soft breeze and a full moon. She stepped on to the grass and almost lost her balance. Her heels had sunk about a mile into the soil. She cursed herself again for her vanity. With some difficulty, she took off the shoes and examined them. The heels were covered in muck. She pulled a face. On bare feet, she walked to the pond that was on the premises nearby. The soil was squishy and cool and felt refreshing.

  “Feeding the ducks?”

  He had almost given her a heart attack. “Geez, Sid, seriously! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Sorry.” He was swaying a little.

  “I had to make a phone call and just wanted some fresh air. That’s all.” Not that he deserved an explanation, she thought.

  “You know, if you’d take more yoga classes, you might not have such problems taking off your shoes.” He sniggered.

  She shivered as she realized he had been watching her. She eyed him critically. “If you’d drink less, you might not have so many problems standing.”

  “Ouch!” he said, laughing. “Yes, I may’ve had one too many. It’s a party, remember?”

  “I guess. Why don’t we go back inside? To the party. You are the best man after all.” She tried to go around him, but he blocked her.

  “My job is done. I gave an excellent toast. All that’s left on my itinerary for tonight is to entertain the maid of honor in my bedroom.”

  “Did you really just say that?” Sara said, appalled.

  “You’re right. A bit blunt. I will show her a good time, promise. But it doesn’t have to be her. It could be you. If you wanted something, I don’t know, less furry?”

  Sara took a deep breath. “No, thank you.”

  “You say that, but you did kiss me once.”

  “As I recall it was the other way around.”

  “Details.” He reached out and pulled her close. Despite his intoxicated state, his strength had not waned in the least. “Let’s dance. It’s so much nicer out here.”

  “I don’t want to dance, Sid. Let me go.”

  He held her close, swaying side to side, completely off rhythm. “Why do you keep rejecting me? We had fun, didn’t we? I’m a nice guy, I have money, an education. I like you. Why can’t you see that we’d be so good together?”

  “Because I’m already good with someone else.”

  “Pfft, he’s nothing.” As if to prove his point, he came in for a kiss. She tried to squirm away, but it was no use. She attempted to kick him.

  “Stop fighting!” He was getting angry now. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He gripped her harder and tried to kiss her again.

  This time she brought her knee up with full force, hitting the sweet spot. He let go and doubled over, gurgling. She swirled around him and gave him a big shove. The loud splash told her he had landed exactly where she wanted him to.

  She ran back to the building and entered out of breath, slightly disheveled, with muddy feet. She quickly looked back over her shoulders, into the darkness, to make sure he wasn’t following her.

  The maid of honor stood at the entrance, frowning at her appearance, until she saw the look in Sara’s eyes. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Sara said, still panting.

  “You’re Phoebe’s helper, right? You haven’t seen the best man out there, have you?”

  Sara stared at her for a second, holding on to the doorframe. “Yes, actually. I have. He’s taking a swim in the pond.”

  Alarmed, the maid of honor started for the exit. Taking in her short frame, Sara placed a hand on her arm before she went out. “If I were you, I’d get some help. He’s quite drunk.”

  The woman nodded and went back to find some groomsmen.

  Sara dove into the restroom and cleaned off her feet and shoes, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the other women. Then she went to find Phoebe.

  Phoebe was outraged. “The pig! Do you want me to go talk to the groom?”

  “No, it’s his wedding. He shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

  “The maid of honor then? Someone should warn her.”

  “Maybe. Although I doubt he’s able to do much of anything tonight. My knee hit the bull’s-eye.”

  Phoebe’s smile was filled with vindication. “Good. He deserved it. Let me go find her, though.” She took off.

  Sara smiled gratefully. The wedding couple was getting ready to leave. That meant that all the guests would pack up and leave soon as well. She couldn’t wait. All she wanted was to get the hell out of here.

  Chapter 22

  The little girl is bouncing down the stairs, singing. Her red curls bob up and down. Her arms are full of stuff—a doll and a small box of some sort—it looks like a miniature treasure chest made out of polished wood. When she is almost at the bottom of the steps she trips, barely keeping her balance, and the box flies out of her hands. It lands with a crash on the floor. The lid opens, but the box appears to be empty.

  “Oh no!” the girl cries.

  She hurries to the box. “Oh no, it’s cracked,” she says while examining the outside of the chest. “How will I tell Mother?” The girl pouts her lips and frowns. “Eleonore,” she says in a whining voice, “you are too wild. Look what you did! I told you not to play with my belongings!”

  Sara has to suppress a laugh. The little girl is mimicking Alice perfectly.

  The girl sighs and looks at her doll. “I guess I’m in for another scolding, Violet.”

  She examines the box more thoroughly, her small hands touching the lid. The girl’s quick fingers are fluttering over the box. When she seems satisfied, she closes the box and picks it up again.

  “Eleonore? What was that noise?” Julia appears in a doorway down the hall.

  “Nothing, Aunt Julia. I just dropped something,” the girl says. Softly she whispers to her doll, “Let’s talk to Aunt Julia, Violet. Maybe she can help us deal with Mother.” Then she sets off again, skipping along the hall toward Julia, and disappears through the doorway.

  Chapter 23

  The plane, swaying dangerously, came down with a loud bump. Seattle looked grey—ominous-looking clouds hung low over the city, ready to drown it in their gloom. By the time Sara had located her car, the rain was pouring down, the force of it hushing the sound of traffic.

  The driving was tiresome. Her windshield was blurry—a continuous curtain of rain distorted her view even with the wipers on full speed. Strong gusts of wind kept pulling on her steering wheel, trying to force her out of her lane. Finally, when she received an anticipated phone call, she gave up fighting the elements and stopped for a coffee at a rest area.

  As she sipped the mediocre lukewarm coffee, her thoughts went back to this morning. She and Phoebe had had a quick breakfast, after which they had rushed off to the airport. They had talked about last night’s dream, but frankly, it made little sense to Sara. A broken box. What was the point of that?

  She wondered whether her return to Dunnhill would mark another period absent of dreams. A relief, in a way, but perhaps she was merely putting off the inevitable. She wanted it all over with, and she was curious to find out what really happened to her great-great-grandmother. Thinking of Dunnhill brought her back to the present; school would start next week. She still had a little money left from her lucrative job as a private tutor last winter, but it wouldn’t last forever. She sighed deeply—adulthood was not always easy. A steady job would be a relief. David and Phoebe sure seemed to have things figured out better. She recalled the phone conversation she had had just minutes ago. It was agonizing, having to make decisions like this.

  David. Her heart skipped a beat. What was she going to tell hi
m? And how furious would he be about last night? He was likely to be angry at Sid, if anyone, but still. What if he thought Sara had somehow given the wrong signals—given Sid the idea she was attracted to him? Remembering the wedding reception made her skin crawl. Somehow Phoebe had managed to get Sid in a taxi. He was still obnoxiously drunk but had been surprisingly docile. The hardest part had been convincing the taxi driver to accept a soaking-wet customer. The maid of honor had wisely rejected Sid’s offer to come along.

  Sara just wanted to forget about the whole event, and her obvious poor judgment of character. Had she not been able to fight him off, would he have pursued his pathetic attempt at conquest any further that night, given his drunken state? She doubted it. She could see him charming his way in—manipulating, even—but physical force did not seem like his style.

  She resolutely pushed her empty coffee cup away, deciding not to consider the possibility that she was wrong on that account too. Instead she sent a silent thank-you up to her mother, who had insisted she take two years of martial arts classes in her early teens. Sara had hated it, reliably being the most awkward, uncoordinated student in class. She had sucked at it and remembered it as one of her most embarrassing undertakings, evidenced by the soft, mocking giggles from her fellow classmates. Despite that, as it turned out, a few useful skills had stuck in her muscle memory.

  When the rain slowed to a drizzle, she returned to her car and drove to Dunnhill without further delays. By the time she arrived, it was already late afternoon. She headed directly to David’s apartment. He was home and greeted her with a long embrace.

  “How was the wedding?”

  “Oh, it was okay. You know, like any wedding,” she said in a light voice. She pulled away and deposited her bag in the bedroom. “I’m really hungry,” she called back to him. “Is there anything to eat?”

  “No. Sorry. I haven’t gotten around to that yet.” He had followed her and now stood in the doorway. “Would you like to go out?”

  Sara was tired from the drive and would have preferred to have the much-needed conversation over delivery pizza, but she did not want to disappoint him. “Sure. Let me change.”