The Case of the Lovable Labs

by B R Snow

  “Well, I’m sure she’s around somewhere. She’s gorgeous. And I just love that cute little button nose she has.”

  “More like a clown nose at the moment,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “We had a really nice time on the River the other night, but it was pretty cold out there. I thought the reception might be a good way to take things to the next level. If you know what I mean.”

  “Got it,” I said. “But I don’t like your chances, Freddie.”

  “Why not? Did she say something?”

  “Not really,” I said, shrugging. “But I doubt she’s going to be in a romantic mood tonight.”

  “Like she’s going to have a choice after I start working a little Freddie-magic on her,” he said, tugging the lapels of his suit jacket and striking a pose.

  “Freddie-magic?” I said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

  “Too much?”

  “Yeah, you might want to dial it down a bit,” I said, laughing.

  “And go for something more traditional, right?”

  “You lost me, Freddie.”

  “You know, a little slow dancing. A couple glasses of champagne. Ask her to take a romantic stroll later on. Maybe I’ll even pick some flowers for her from your mom’s garden.”

  “Flowers?”

  “Yeah. You guys love getting flowers, right?”

  “Sure, sure. But a word of advice, if I were you, I’d stick with roses.”

  Chapter 8

  Jill’s aunts were pretty, friendly, and, given the fact they’d been pounding Kamikaze’s since they’d arrived, extremely loud and chatty. They were constructing a pyramid of empty glasses on the table that was already three-levels high, and they weren’t showing any sign of slowing down. A server arrived carrying six fresh cocktails, and he placed them down on the table in front of the two women. Jill’s aunt, the sister of her mother, noticed me standing next to them at the table, beamed up at me, and pointed at an empty chair.

  “Please, join us,” she said. “Want a Kamikaze?”

  “Uh, no, thanks,” I said, holding up my wine glass. “But I will sit down. Hey, Missy.”

  “Hi, Suzy,” Missy said, smiling at me as she noticed my caution about getting too close to the Kamikaze Kids. “Just stay on your side of the table, and you’ll be fine.”

  “You’re a real hoot, Missy.” The woman turned to the other aunt, the sister of Jill’s father. “Isn’t she a hoot, Trudy?”

  “I’ve always liked that about her,” Trudy said with a glassy stare. “Are you sure you don’t want one of these, Missy? They’re delicious.”

  “Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with the champagne,” Missy said.

  “Suzy?” Trudy said, squinting up at me. “I know you. You run the dog hotel Jill works at, right?”

  “That’s me,” I said, smiling.

  “Well, what do you know? Charlotte, this is Jill’s boss.” She grabbed two of the fresh drinks and handed one to her drinking companion. “You ready?”

  “I’m ready,” Charlotte said, raising her glass. “To Suzy.”

  “To Suzy.”

  They clinked glasses, tossed back their drinks, then carefully stacked the glasses on the pyramid.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Suzy,” Trudy said, managing to avoid slurring by speaking very slowly. “I was going to introduce myself at dinner the other night, then Roger put a crimp in my plans.”

  “He sure did. But that’s what he always did, right? Put a crimp in other people’s plans,” Charlotte said, then glanced at Missy. “No offense.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Missy said, shrugging. “I’m just sorry I missed it.”

  Both of the aunts found her comment funny, and they roared with laughter. Then they each grabbed another drink and raised their glasses.

  “To Roger,” Charlotte said.

  “To Roger,” Trudy said. “May he rot in hell.”

  They tossed their drinks back, leaned forward and gently placed the glasses on the pyramid, then sat back in their chairs.

  “Whew,” Trudy said, exhaling. “We might want to slow down.” Then she noticed my stare and blinked at me. “What?”

  “I’m just trying to follow the thread,” I said. “The Roger thread.”

  “If we’re going to go down that road,” Charlotte said, laughing. “I hope you brought something to write with.”

  “Oh, let’s not spoil the party,” Trudy said, waving it away. “Don’t waste your time trying to figure all that out. He’s not worth it. Uh, sorry, Missy.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Missy said, casually taking a sip of champagne. “You two were sleeping with him long after I stopped.”

  “Yeah, I guess we were,” Trudy said, then glanced over at Charlotte. “When did you stop?”

  “Two years ago,” she said, stifling a burp. “That was when he was getting all hot and heavy with the trollop.”

  “Faith?” I said.

  “Well, I’m sure not talking about hope and charity,” Charlotte said, then laughed loudly. “She gets her considerable trollop skills from her mother. My beloved sister.”

  “Should we drink to her?” Trudy said.

  “My sister? Not a chance.”

  Trudy cracked up and reached for the two remaining Kamikazes. She handed one to Charlotte, and they clinked glasses.

  “To the trollop,” Trudy said, downing her drink.

  “To the trollop.”

  “And the bees,” Trudy said, cackling.

  “So, Faith started sleeping with Roger right after your affair ended?” I said to Charlotte.

  “No, I’m sure he started way before that,” Charlotte said. “It ended right after I caught them together.”

  “Got it,” I said, glancing at Trudy. “And you were sleeping with him before that?”

  “Oh, way before. It must have been about three years after Missy kicked his sorry butt out.” She glanced over at Missy. “Does that sound about right to you?”

  “I wouldn’t have a clue, Trudy,” Missy said, seemingly unshaken by the conversation. “I was long gone by then.”

  “Well, you were smart,” Charlotte said, then frowned. “Where did you go again?”

  “I didn’t go anywhere. I stayed in New Hampshire,” Missy said, draining the last of her champagne.

  “That’s right,” Charlotte said. “So, how’s it going up there?”

  “It’s great.”

  “You still seem confused,” Trudy said, staring at me.

  “I’m just wondering how three women who had relationships with the same man could be having such a civil conversation,” I said, frowning as I glanced back and forth at them.

  “Misery loves company?” Missy said with a shrug.

  That cracked Trudy and Charlotte up. Trudy scanned the table.

  “I’d toast you for that one,” she said to Missy. “But we’re out of Kamikazes.”

  “Roger must have had something you all found appealing,” I said.

  “Yeah, he had his talents,” Trudy said, grinning. “Unfortunately, they weren’t enough by themselves.”

  “Exactly,” Charlotte said. “Eventually, you had to talk to him.”

  “That was the problem,” Trudy said, nodding.

  I glanced at Missy who seemed to confirm what they were saying with a small shrug.

  “But Jill’s mom, your sister, seemed to be able to get past that,” I said.

  “Have you ever tried talking to my sister?” Charlotte said.

  “Not really.”

  “Don’t bother trying. She’s about as interesting as this table. But I was curious when I heard she and Roger had started up again after all those years,” Charlotte said, then looked at Missy. “I’m sorry, Missy. I know it’s ancient history, but it’s probably still painful.”

  “Like I said,” Missy said, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. Roger’s affair with Jennifer is the least of my concerns.
”

  “So, that is what ruined your marriage?” I said to Missy. “The fact that he slept with one of your friends?”

  “Her best friend,” Charlotte said.

  “Yes, at the time I thought she was,” Missy said, finally showing a bit of anger. “As it turned out, I suppose I should have thanked her. But, like you, I was curious about why the two of them reconnected. I thought they were done. Jill was always telling me how they couldn’t even stand being in the same room together. I’m very surprised they were an item again.”

  “It’s gotta be some weird competition with Faith,” Charlotte said. “Those two have one seriously screwed up relationship.”

  “Yeah, I agree,” Trudy said. “The mother discovers her daughter, a younger version of her, is trying to take her place with an ex-lover. I imagine that sent Jennifer into a tailspin.”

  “Oh, it did a lot more than that,” Charlotte said. “She was furious. But Faith, being the determined little trollop she is, hung tough.”

  “And Roger reaped the benefits of having both women vying for his affections?” I said, casually.

  “Yeah, I’m sure he did,” Charlotte said. “They played right into his hands.”

  “This conversation is a complete waste of oxygen,” Missy said, glancing up as a server carrying glasses of champagne approached. She grabbed one of the glasses, took a sip, then set the glass down.

  The server held out the tray and Charlotte and Trudy both grabbed two glasses each. I waved the tray away.

  “Oh, could you please bring us another round of Kamikazes?” Trudy said. “Six more oughta do it.”

  “Of course. Right away,” the server said, bowing slightly.

  I grinned when I saw him walk away shaking his head. Then my neurons flared and urged me to push the conversation along.

  “It was just so horrible,” I said, frowning. “I mean, what happened at the restaurant.”

  “Yeah, it kinda put a damper on the evening,” Trudy said.

  “I just can’t imagine who could do something like that,” I said. “If, of course, he was actually murdered. I suppose he could have had a heart attack.”

  Both Trudy and Charlotte snorted. They grinned at each other then glanced over at me.

  “Don’t you worry,” Trudy said. “He was definitely murdered.”

  “You really think so?” I said.

  “There’s no doubt about it,” Charlotte said. “And I don’t think the cops are going to have to look too hard to figure out who did it.”

  “No, Charlotte, you’re wrong,” Trudy said. “I just don’t think Jennifer could have done it.”

  “She was sitting right next to him at dinner,” Charlotte said.

  “And every time Faith left the dining room, he’d slip out of his chair and follow her,” Trudy said. “One time he came back into the dining room, and I saw a look on Faith’s face that sent chills through me. It had to be the trollop.”

  “Maybe they worked together on it,” Missy said, then took a small sip of her champagne.

  “Ooooh, a tag team murder,” Charlotte said, raising her glass in Missy’s direction. “I like it.”

  “Who do you think killed him?” Trudy said to Missy.

  Missy thought about it for a moment, then shrugged as she stared at both women.

  “Knowing what I know about Roger’s scorecard, I’m sure there’s a ton of possible suspects.”

  Both Trudy and Charlotte flinched, then quickly recovered and drained their champagne. They set their glasses down, picked up a fresh one, and made eye contact with each other before they clinked glasses and took another sip.

  Their reaction was enough to get them on my list.

  I looked down the table at Missy who seemed melancholy and drained by the conversation.

  I imagine losing your ex-husband, despite whatever problems you had shared, was a traumatic experience, her protests to the contrary notwithstanding. But the fact that Jill’s mother had once been her best friend, then had betrayed her in the most despicable manner possible, nagged at me.

  And the idea that Josie or I would be capable of doing something like that to each other was unimaginable.

  I glanced over at the table where Chief Abrams was still chatting with the estranged couple and decided it was time to drop in.

  “Are you okay?” I said to Missy.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s just that a lot of bad memories have resurfaced.”

  “I can only imagine,” I said, giving her a sad smile. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Actually,” she said, nodding at Trudy and Charlotte. “I was thinking about having a Kamikaze.”

  Chapter 9

  Jill’s parents were in better shape than her two aunts, but not by much, and I was glad I stopped by when I did. They were making short work of the two magnums of champagne that sat in a large ice bucket on the table, and her father’s eyes were on the prowl for signs of a server. I smiled at them, and they gestured for me to sit down. I took a seat next to Chief Abrams.

  “Did Freddie find you?” I said to him.

  “He did,” the Chief said, nodding.

  “I guess it confirms one piece of the puzzle,” I whispered to him before glancing around the table with a big smile. “What are we talking about?”

  “Bill here and I were just talking about ancient Rome. He’s a history professor.”

  “Interesting,” I said.

  “Yes, I find it fascinating,” Bill said, still on the lookout for a server.

  Jennifer, his ex-wife, snorted, then refilled her champagne glass.

  “That’s our Bill, all right,” she said. “Only interested in the old and decrepit.”

  “I don’t know, Jennifer,” Bill said, eyeing his ex-wife over the top of his champagne. “If that were the case, then you and I should have been soulmates forever.”

  Jennifer flinched and stared off into the distance through narrowed eyes but said nothing.

  “Wow,” I whispered. “Good shot.”

  “Just wait,” the Chief whispered back. “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He focused on Bill who was grinning, obviously pleased with his most recent rejoinder. “You were saying something about how dinner the other night reminded you of ancient Rome.”

  “Yes, in Roman times, poison was one of the more popular methods used to eliminate rivals. And it was quite common for the poisoning to be carried out at the dinner table,” Bill said, effortlessly sliding into his professor role. “I’m sure the substance used to kill Roger was quite different from the poisons back then, but the historical reference was impossible to miss.” He took a big sip of champagne and glanced at his ex-wife. “Which leads me to my next question. What did you use to kill him, Jennifer?” He sat back and grinned at her.

  “You’re such a loser,” she whispered.

  “Now that I think about it,” Bill said, cocking his head. “Maybe the poison was similar. According to legend, Nero’s favorite poison was cyanide.”

  It was our turn to flinch, and I snuck a glance at the Chief.

  “Did you mention cyanide to him?” I whispered.

  “Of course not,” he said, not taking his eyes off the professor.

  “You think it’s just a coincidence? Maybe a lucky guess?”

  The Chief shrugged and continued to stare at the estranged couple.

  “I can’t even begin to count the ways I hate you,” Jennifer said.

  “I’m sure you recognize that strategy, Chief Abrams,” Bill said.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not following you,” the Chief said, frowning.

  “Her use of a simple statement of fact to redirect the conversation away and thereby avoid having to answer my question,” Bill said, staring at her. “Well played, Snuggy.” He glanced over at us. “That was Roger’s nickname for her. Wasn’t it, Snuggy?”

  “You’re such a disgusting pig,” Jennifer said. “And let’s not forget, you had a lot more reasons to kill him than I did.”


  “Yes, I suppose I did,” Bill said, giving it some thought. Then he grinned at his ex-wife. “So, don’t keep us in suspense, Snuggy, what did you use?”

  Jennifer fired what was left of her champagne into her ex-husband’s face, then casually refilled her glass. Bill slowly wiped his face with his napkin then tossed it on the table.

  “Don’t murderers often exhibit that same characteristic, Chief?” Bill said. “That sudden burst of unprovoked rage that leads them to do things they normally wouldn’t.”

  “We must have a different definition of unprovoked,” Chief Abrams said. “I’m sorry, Bill, but you sort of had that one coming.”

  “Oh, we’re just getting warmed up, Chief Abrams,” Bill said, chuckling. “Stick around for a while. I’m sure that soon Jennifer will be coming after me with a knife.” He paused to savor a sip of champagne. “Either that, or she’ll be dancing on the table naked.”

  “I’ve had enough of this,” Jennifer said, getting to her feet. “I’m going to talk with the bride and groom.”

  We watched her storm off, then I focused on Bill who was toying with his glass deep in thought.

  “Was that really necessary?” I said.

  “Probably not,” he said without looking up. “But since we haven’t seen each other in a very long time, I figured one more walk down memory lane couldn’t hurt. You know, for old-time sake.”

  “But it’s your daughter’s wedding day,” I said, baffled.

  “Yes, it is,” he said, smiling. “And the ceremony was delightful. As is this reception.” He raised his glass to me. “Thanks to you and your mother I’m told. She has a lovely home. To your health.” He drained his glass and exhaled loudly.

  I glanced at Chief Abrams, and he gave me a slight nod. I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the table.

  “I’m so sorry about what happened between you and your ex-wife,” I said. “But you don’t really think she was capable of killing Roger, do you?”

  “She was sitting next to him all during dinner.”

  “But that doesn’t mean she put poison in his drink.”

  “No, it doesn’t. But she had motive and opportunity,” he said, giving me a crocodile smile that made me nervous. “All you need to do is identify the means. But I imagine you’re hoping that the toxicology report gives you that, right, Chief Abrams?”