“Sorry, Mom,” she said, her face flushing.
“Hazel, I’ve told you a million times not to put your feet up on the table! It’s a horrible habit.”
“They weren’t on the table, they were dangling off the table,” Hazel said.
“And the way you lean on that chair, you’re going to break your neck one day!”
Hazel rolled her eyes. “Whatever, mom. Chill.”
Nora’s temper flared, as it always seemed to around her younger daughter. “If you’re living here, you’re going to obey my rules. No feet on the table!”
Hazel shoved back her chair and dumped the rest of her cereal in the sink, leaving the bowl on the edge of the counter.
“And, tell me, who’s going to clean this mess you made?” Nora asked. “Don’t just walk off.”
“I was about to clean it!” Hazel’s voice took on the pitch it always did before she was about to break down. “Can you stop treating me like I’m five for ten minutes?”
“I—” Nora took a deep breath, struggling with herself. “Fine. Just clean it.”
“What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you’d gone to work,” Hazel said.
“So, if I go to work that means you can put your feet up on the table?” Nora asked.
“Moooooom,” Hazel groaned. “What’s up with you today? I thought you’d be cheerful after the party.”
With a start, Nora realized that Hazel knew nothing about Zoey yet. Her heart sank a little. Of course. She’d meant to break the news gently but, instead, ended up fighting with her. Hazel was on her knees now, blotting up the milk with a paper towel.
“Er—” Nora hesitated. “Hazel, forget about that for a minute. Come sit down on the sofa with me.”
“The sofa?” Hazel stared at her blankly.
“Yeah…we…I need to talk to you,” Nora said.
Hazel sighed and chucked the paper towel into the garbage. “I knew it. I know what this is about. It’s about yesterday, isn’t it?”
“What?” Nora led Hazel into the living room by hand and plopped down on the comfortable Chesterfield sofa whose dark red leather cover had slowly begun to split in some places. Nora had a sudden memory of the when they’d first bought this sofa. It was around ten years ago. The four of them had gone together to the furniture store and, while Nora had picked a more practical three-seater, Hazel had absolutely insisted that she wanted this one.
“It’s so soft, Mom! You gotta sit on it!” She’d given Nora a gap-toothed grin. “You’ll see!”
Nora had told her no, but Hazel kept insisting they sit on it just once and, one by one, Harvey and Grace had given in, sinking down next to Hazel. Finally, reluctantly, Nora had squeezed in between the three and Hazel had climbed up on one of the arms, her legs sprawling onto Nora’s lap. She’d been sold.
They’d spent so many hours on the sofa like that, watching games, movies, sometimes even just talking. Till slowly, Grace had gotten too big and preferred to sit solo on the slider in the corner. Then Harvey’s progressive back problems led to the purchase of a firm, form-fitting armchair of his own.
With a start, Nora realized that this sofa was really one of the last things she and Hazel had in common. Even now, Hazel was propped up on one arm with her legs sprawled out, nearly touching Nora’s. With a gulp, Nora realized she really, really didn’t want to tell Hazel about Zoey.
Hazel seized her silence and began speaking instead. “Yeah, I get it. Grace bought it up last night, but it’s been on your mind for a year now. What am I doing with my life, what plans do I have, why am I not acting like an adult. Right? Well, I have good news. I have a job and I’ve made arrangements to move out, too. One more month and I’m out of your hair. Happy?”
“What?” Nora looked at Hazel, startled. “What job? What about college?”
Hazel’s chin raised up in the air. “I’m quitting.”
Nora stared at Hazel, her heart simultaneously sinking and somehow beating thrice as fast. “You’re quitting?”
“It’s just not for me.” Hazel shrugged.
“You’re. Quitting. College?” Nora’s eyes widened and all other thoughts seemed to have been wiped out of her mind.
“Yes. I’m. Quitting. College.” Hazel hugged her knees to her chest. “Actually, I’ve already quit college. I’ve handled the paperwork with the registrar. It’s done.”
“How…” Nora felt rage build within her. “How could you do this? You didn’t talk to me or your dad? You just—”
“I don’t know, Mom.” Hazel hung her head. “I knew what you’d say. I knew how you’d react. I just didn’t want any of that.”
“Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe if you talk to them again, they’ll understand and let you back in...” Nora’s mind was working at light speed.
“Mom.” Hazel’s voice was quiet, but firm. “Let it go. It’s not for me. I’m not Grace.”
Nora looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Of course Hazel wasn’t Grace. Who knew better than Nora? Grace had graduated high school as valedictorian, then gotten a full ride at the University of Wyoming where she’d earned a 4.0 GPA and her BS before beginning her career as an I.T. manager in nearby Cody.
Hazel, on the other hand, had never once cared about her studies. It had always frustrated Nora. Hazel was bright — smarter than most of her friends — but all she seemed to care about was goofing off or playing video games. When she’d flunked out of the University of Wyoming two years in, Harvey and Nora had patiently sat with her and had long talks about her future. They’d corralled her into applying to the community college, hoping that she’d manage a bachelor’s degree of some sort. What hadn’t they given her? No rent, no bills, all the freedom in the world… and yet, now she’d dropped out.
Nora looked at Hazel and saw that there were tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Hazel said in a choked voice. “I know you really wanted this, but it just wasn’t working out. I’m not smart enough—”
“Of course you are!” Nora exclaimed. “You’re a very smart young lady.”
“Then I’m not interested enough,” Hazel said. “College just isn’t for me. Not right now. Maybe never.”
“Well, what are you going to do?” Nora asked. “How are you going to pay the bills? Because let me tell you, if you aren’t in college, we aren’t going to let you live here rent free. Certainly not if you’re planning to play video games all day!”
“I told you already, I’m moving out!” Hazel’s tears vanished and her eyes turned cold. “One more month.”
“Where? And what is this job?”
“I talked to Zoey,” Hazel said. “She’s getting older, she’s got more work here than ever before and she needs a partner. She was willing to take me on. I worked for her in high school, right? She always thought I did a great job. As for moving out, she said that she has an extra room in her house and she’d give me a discount on rent. So it’s all set, you see?”
“Zoey?” Nora gave her a blank look. “I don’t understand.”
“Of course, you don’t. She’s only a housekeeper to you. You’re such a snob sometimes.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “She’s always been supportive of me. Like an aunt or a…second mom. This is actually a great opportunity, Mom, and—”
“Hang on. Wait. Zoey? Zoey Williams hired you? When?”
“I’d talked to her about it off and on and we finalized things last week,” Hazel explained. “I asked her not to tell you yet because I knew you’d—”
Nora gave a weak laugh, feeling a rising hysteria. “Zoey Williams gave you a job. You’re planning to move in with her.”
“Yeah, and it’s all signed and sealed, Mom. There’s nothing more for you to do so I—”
“Hazel, sweetheart, Zoey’s dead,” Nora said, the full implications of Hazel’s words suddenly sinking in. “She died early this morning.”
Hazel stood up, her body shaking. “That’s disgusting, Mom. I knew you’d be unhappy, but to ma
ke up such a horrible lie—”
“Hazel…” Nora stood up, too. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Stop it!” Hazel put out her hands as if to bat Nora away. “Take it back. Say you’re lying.”
“Is this what she wanted to talk to me about last night?” Nora wondered out loud. “No, it can’t be.”
“Say you’re lying!” Hazel stamped her foot on the ground.
Seeing her distress, Nora’s anger vanished and love took over. All she wanted was to sweep Hazel up in a hug and smooth her hair down as though she were five. But, as she put her arms around Hazel, she was pushed away. Hazel ran out of the house, slamming the front door behind her.
*****
Chapter 4
The Poisoned Smoothie
As a parent, you’re only as happy as your unhappiest child. So with Hazel upset, Nora felt rather miserable all day, too. She tried calling her but was met with silence. Worried, Nora decided to head out and figure out where Hazel had vanished to. The one logical place she could think of was Zoey’s house.
But all she found at Zoey’s house was a squad car and tons of yellow tape. Uncertainly, she stood on the sidewalk wondering what to do next, when a movement from one of the houses caught her eye.
A face was staring at her through the window. When she turned to look, a curtain was immediately pulled shut. Suddenly determined, Nora walked up to the house and rang the doorbell. She rang twice more and, just when she was about to give up, the door sprang open. On its other side was same man she’d seen earlier in the day, now out of the janitor’s uniform he’d been wearing and dressed in sweatpants and an old, yellow t-shirt. He was a heavyset man, with a buzz cut, a bulbous nose and a scar on his cheek.
“If you’re a reporter, buzz off!” he exclaimed.
“I’m not a reporter. I’m a friend of Zoey’s,” Nora said. “Well, I was her employer, one of them. My name’s Nora. I just wanted to talk about what you found earlier today.”
“Never heard of you.” The man looked suspicious still. “Zoey told me everything, so how come I never heard of you?”
“Nora Nathaniel? My daughter, Hazel, was planning—”
“Oh!” The man’s face lightened instantly. “You’re Hazel’s mother?” He opened the door wider and cocked his head. “Yeah, I see it. She’s got your eyes, doesn’t she?” He stood aside. “Alright, come on in.”
“You know Hazel?” Nora’s glance flew over his unshaven face and the beer stain on his shirt.
“Yeah, of course. She’s a sweet girl. It’s thanks to her that Zoey ever agreed to date me.” He held out his hand. “My name’s Matt. Matthew Whitman. I’ve been living next to Zoey for the last fifteen years.” His face crumpled a little. “I couldn’t believe it when I found her today. I’m still in shock.”
“How…” Nora was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she managed. “How long have…had…you been dating her?”
Matt nodded. “Just six months. I was crazy about Zoey. I was ready to marry her, to be honest. But Zoey was always so careful. She wanted to take things slow. But, yeah, we were together. Every morning I’d head over to her place for breakfast. I even had a key to her house and everything. That’s how I found her today.” Matt sank down on an overstuffed plaid sofa and put a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just need a minute,” he said gruffly.
Nora sat across from him, taking in the house. It was messy and not very well cared for. The living room was a mish-mash of used furniture, from two plastic chairs to the plaid sofa to the patched leather recliner on which she was seated. The coffee table held a spiky cactus sitting atop some coffee-stained papers. Nora suddenly held her breath. From under the plaid sofa she could see a single white finger of a discarded glove. What was Matt Whitman doing with a glove under his sofa?
Itching to find out, Nora cleared her throat. “Could I get some water, if it’s not a bother?”
“Sure.” Matt stood up and she saw that he was covering tears under his hand as he half-ran out of the room. Strange, strange man. Nora made a mental note to grill Hazel about him. Why did Hazel even know him? How had she played matchmaker?
More and more, Nora felt as though her daughter were a mystery she would never be able to solve. She’d given birth to her, raised her, loved her. And now she seemed to know nothing about her.
But, for now, these thoughts were like static in the back of her brain. As soon as Matt left the room, Nora was on her knees, looking under his sofa. She wrinkled her nose in disgust — the underside of the sofa had apparently not been vacuumed in decades. In addition to the dirt & dust-bunnies, there was also an empty bottle of cola and a crumpled pack of chips, along with a single glove. Nora quickly got out a plastic baggie from her handbag. Expertly, she managed to pry out the single glove and dump it into her bag and, in a flash, she was back on the recliner just as Matt entered the room again.
He gave her a funny look and Nora’s senses began to overload. Was she breathing too heavily? Was her face red? Once upon a time, back when she was in her twenties, leaning down to look under a sofa would have been easy. Now, it felt a little like a workout — especially since she’d been in a hurry. Nora promised herself she’d start working out more regularly. Who knew how many sofas were out there with gloves under them?
“Y—you’ve got a streak of dirt on your face,” Matt said, touching his left cheek. “Uh...”
“Oh, hmm.” Nora thought quickly. “My eyeliner must have run. Mind if I use your bathroom just a second?”
“Sure.” Matt frowned. He held out a glass of water. “Didn’t you want this?”
Nora grabbed it and gulped it down then, with her cheeks still bulging with water, handed it back to him. She walked to the bathroom and, as soon as the door was shut, poked around in Matt’s medicine cabinet. She wasn’t sure what she’d hoped to find but, between the floss and the aspirin, her eyes found a small, white bottle marked Digoxin.
Nora took a photo with her camera then, wiping her face, walked out. Matt was standing right outside, his hands folded and his face steely.
“What do you want?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Why did you come here?”
“I…well…I wanted to talk to you about Zoey,” Nora said.
Sighing, Matt shook his head. “I’m not so sure I want to talk about it. She was so young. Just 60. I was picturing a life with her, you know. When I walked into the kitchen and saw her on the floor, my heart about stopped. I screamed, but it was too late. I knew it the minute I laid eyes on her that it was too late. She was on the floor,” he splayed his hands out grotesquely, “and her hair was matted with smoothie. She was laying in a puddle of it.”
“Smoothie?” Nora’s eyes narrowed.
“Yeah. That was her breakfast every morning. Banana smoothie with chopped mixed berries. She was on a diet again, not that she needed it. She’s in better shape than women half her age, I always said.” Matt’s eyes began to well up again. “Well, that’s all over now.”
“She had the same breakfast every day?” Nora asked, confused.
“Sure,” Matt said. “She was big into this thing she called meal prep. So every Sunday and Wednesday she’d prepare a menu for the week. She’d chop up all her fruits and vegetables, roast some chicken or meat, and then neatly store them in the fridge. Mostly, she had a smoothie for breakfast, a salad on the go for lunch and then she’d splurge on a really hearty casserole or pasta or something good for dinner.” Matt sighed. “Last few weeks, I’d come over to her house with my breakfast and we’d sit together, chat a bit. I could never have just a smoothie, though. I need a proper breakfast sandwich.”
Nora tapped her chin. “Now that you mention it, I remember her talking about this. She said it made it much easier for her to eat healthy if she pre-chopped her fruits and vegetables.”
“She was a fanatic about her health,” Matt said. “She told me that when she was only thirty, she had a heart attack scare. The doctor told her she wouldn’t last ten years
if she didn’t change her lifestyle and, ever since, she’s been eating healthy.” Matt’s lip began to tremble. “There I go, talking in the present tense again.”
“I’m sorry,” Nora said. “It takes some time getting used to the absence of a loved one.”
“It’s just… unbelievable. I suppose all that lifestyle change was for nothing. It’s so unfair, too. She couldn’t have known that one day, standing at her kitchen counter, her heart would just give out.” Matt shook his head. “I mean, what was the point? If she had to go early, she might as well have gone with fries in one hand and an ice cream in the other.” He sniffed, “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“You think it’s a heart attack, then?” Nora asked.
Matt looked up sharply. His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? What else could it be?”
Nora shrugged. “The sheriff didn’t seem entirely sure whether it was natural causes or not. He said forensics would have to find out.”
Matt’s eyes widened and his face went white. “What?” He gasped.
“Oh, didn’t he tell you? I mean…” Nora was observing his face carefully. Sure, it was possible that Matt was just shocked to hear his girlfriend had been poisoned. It was also possible that he was scared — scared of getting caught. Which one was it?
“This is a lot to process.” Matt put one hand out against the wall. “You think someone killed Zoey? But how? There weren’t any wounds. So what? Someone poisoned her?”
Nora shrugged. “It’s entirely possible it was just a heart attack, like you said.”
“But who...” Matt’s voice trailed off. “Unless…last evening. She looked so scared…”
Eagerly, Nora asked, “Did she say anything to you?”
“No. Well, she was supposed to come over at 6:30 for a dinner date. I called her at seven and she sounded downright panicky.”
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