Bound To Be Dead: Cozy Mystery Bookshop Series Book 3

by Tamra Baumann

  “Yep.” Brittany nods as she sets the table. “Homework’s all done too.”

  “Great.” Trying my best to hide my regret we won’t have a potentially last dinner together, I turn to my father. “Can I see you outside for a second, Dad?” I grab his arm, giving him no choice but to accompany me to the backyard.

  After the door is closed behind us, he adjusts the sleeve I just tugged on. “Where’s the fire?”

  I stare into my father’s striking blue eyes, searching for an easy way to ask him if he killed Tina. It’s probably best to address Emily’s accusation first. “Did you at any time have anything to do with Tina’s iced tea the day she died?”

  Dad’s brows move slightly, but his forehead doesn’t crease. On account of the Botox, he gets to look good on stage. But he looks confused as he considers my question.

  Finally, he says, “No. Not her tea. Why?”

  Relief makes me slump against the back door. “Because Emily told Dylan she saw you adjusting the lid on Tina’s to-go cup. Which is now missing. And the current thinking is that Tina might have been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” The blood runs from dad’s face. “I think I know what Emily thought she saw.” My father looks away as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, looking pretty guilty of something.

  That swarm of bees is back in my gut. “What did she see?” I’m not sure I want to know the answer.

  He lifts his hands. “It’s hard to compete with all the electronics and special effects the younger performers have these days. And crowds can be harsh, Jellybean.”

  “Yeah.” I cross my arms. “Get to the point.”

  “Well…” he stammers. “Sometimes, I take a little hit of liquid courage before I go on stage these days. It helps loosen me up.”

  “Alcohol?” I ask.

  “Yes. But I didn’t want anyone to see me drinking out of a flask. That’d be tacky. So, I used Tina’s empty cup she’d left on a table in back. I tossed the cup away before I got into the ice-cream cannon outside the theater.”

  I throw my hands over my eyes. “The flask would have been ten times better. Now Dylan has an eyewitness who saw you mess with Tina’s drink that might have been poisoned. And who knows when that trash was last emptied so we can prove you didn’t do it?”

  “Dear Lord.” Dad sets a hand on the side of the house for support. “Where is Dylan, by the way? I thought he was going to join us.”

  “He was, but he decided it was better to break up with me instead.” I try for a neutral tone, but my upset is too great.

  My father’s jaw tightens. “That varmint. Did he give you a reason why?”

  “Yeah. Because he might have to arrest you for murder!”

  “Arrest me?” Dad’s face goes white again.

  My father starts sliding down the wall, so I grab him. “Stop. We’ll figure this out. I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “I don’t want to go to jail, Sawyer. Those men are vicious. I’m not one to fight.”

  No, faint at the first sign of trouble is more like it. “Calm down. You just have to tell Dylan’s deputy the truth when he asks you about the cup tomorrow. And it wouldn’t hurt to find someone who might have seen you pour from your flask.”

  “No one else saw me.” Dad slowly stands on his own. “Except Emily after the deed was done. It’ll just be my word against hers.”

  This is not helping my stress level. “The truth always wins. Try not to worry too much.”

  While I’m following my father back inside, a thought strikes me. Dylan told me about Emily’s accusation against my father before the deputy even interviewed Dad. That must’ve been Dylan’s way of letting me help my father prepare for the deputy’s questions. Heaven knows Dad will need all the help he can get with even more circumstantial evidence piling up.

  I have to find that cup.

  If I find it, though, I could be accused of evidence tampering to cover up for my father, so I pull out my phone. As unhappy as I am right now with Dylan’s decision to break things off between us, I’ll send him a last text telling him where Dad threw away the cup. Hopefully, it’ll still be there. And prove my father’s story is true.

  Before I hit Send, I add a heart emoji. It’s as close to telling Dylan I still love him as I’m willing to admit right now.

  After dinner, I walk down the hill for book club, vowing to try my best to stay focused and not worry about tomorrow’s meeting with Brittany’s mother. It won’t be easy.

  I draw in a deep breath of cool ocean air to clear my mind and turn the corner to Main Street. Madge, with her murder board, is standing outside my door. I lift a hand and say, “Hi. Am I late?”

  Madge sticks out a plate of cookies. “I’m early. Wanted to get the board set up before we start. Oh, and Julie called. Her kid is sick, so she can’t make it.”

  I unlock the door and punch in the security code. “Nick called too. He’s got a nasty cold, so he’s staying home.”

  “Bummer.” Madge hauls her board that’s as big as she is to the bistro area. “We could’ve used his computer skills. I saw some notes on Dylan’s desk about poisons that cause paralysis. Brittany can probably help us, though.”

  I shake my head. “She’s with Raphe tonight. Looks like it’s just the Admiral and us.”

  “Ah.” Madge busies herself setting up the board.

  While I could use a giant-sized glass of wine tonight, I want to keep my wits about me, so I grab three mugs for coffee and take the plastic wrap off the cookies. Then I find the book Nan handed me earlier. She left a bookmark in the pages she wanted me to read, so I grab a cookie and get started.

  I’m so absorbed in the odd methods authors have used to poison characters that when a hand lands on my shoulder, I jump. “Oh, hi, Admiral. You scared me.”

  He chuckles. “Captivating prose, I take it?” He fills a mug with vanilla bean coffee before sitting at the table.

  “You wouldn’t believe all the ways authors have found to kill off their characters. Like being buried alive in a septic tank, or being pushed into a giant blender, drowning in a vat of milk, or by Lingchi.”

  Madge joins us and grabs a cookie. “What’s Lingchi?”

  The Admiral says, “Death by a thousand cuts. It was used in Asia fairly often until the 1900s, when it was banned.”

  I blink at the Admiral. Here’s a man who sometimes can’t remember what he had for lunch, and yet trivia like that comes out of his mouth on a regular basis. “Okay. Here’s a stumper I bet you don’t even know. What’s the irony behind Mark Twain’s death?” I only know this because my mother named me after a character in one of his books. My mom knew all there was to know about Mr. Twain.

  He shakes his head. “No idea.”

  I set my book down. “Mark Twain was born on a day when Halley’s Comet appeared, something that only happens every seventy-five years or so. He told everyone he met that he’d die the next time the comet appeared. Twain died the day after the sighting in 1910. Weird, right?”

  Madge helps herself to another cookie. “Not as weird as dying by toothpick.”

  I chuckle. “Seriously?”

  “No, it’s true.” Madge stands to pour herself some coffee. “Sherwood Anderson, the author of Winesburg, Ohio, was on a cruise with his wife when he developed a terrible stomachache. After a few days, he died. When the ship’s doctor asked the wife if he’d swallowed anything unusual, she said he liked his martinis with olives and had accidentally swallowed a toothpick a few days before. Evidently, toothpicks are tough on internal organs.”

  The Admiral raises a finger. “Or, the wife poisoned him and blamed it on the toothpick.”

  “Fair assumption.” I set the book down. “That brings us right back to why we’re here tonight. How was Tina poisoned?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question.” Madge sighs. “The only scribble I found on Dylan’s desktop notepad—”

  I interrupt, “Don’t tell me you used a pencil on the top blan
k page and scribbled until you could see the note.”

  “What?” Madge asks, all indignant. “It works. So anyway, there was something about natural poison.”

  “So, let’s get started.” The three of us turn to the board and study the timeline and clues Madge has set up. She even has my father’s latest development on there. “How did you know about Emily seeing my dad with Tina’s cup?”

  Madge shrugs. “I took a picture of Dylan’s murder board with my phone and copied it. He keeps all the stuff he doesn’t want me to find in his computer files on his covered board. Whatever you do, don’t tell him I know that.”

  Not much chance of that. We’re broken up. But I’ll keep that tidbit to myself for now. “My lips are sealed.”

  “Wait.” The Admiral’s brow knits. “What’s this at the bottom of the board about Max and Tina’s cup?”

  I quickly fill him in. “I sent a text to Dylan. He’ll look for the cup.”

  The Admiral slowly nods. “But that would mean your father drank from the cup after Tina. If there was poison in there, wouldn’t your father have been at least a little sick too?”

  “That’s an excellent point.” I pick up the book again. “Maybe we should use this online tool that authors sometimes use. It’s called a cause-of-death generator. It helps the author figure out creative ways to kill off characters. It’s worth a shot.”

  Both Madge and the Admiral nod enthusiastically as I find the website on my phone. “We have to give it some basic information. Like age, sex, special character traits, fitness levels, and the location where the book is set.”

  I tap all the information in as it pertains to Tina and press the Go button. I flip the phone around so they can see too, and we all wait for the answer.

  After a few moments, there’s a beep. We all lean in, and Madge reads the screen. “Death by native blow dart gun? Seriously? In northern California?”

  I have to refrain from rolling my eyes. “That thing is worthless.” I pick up the book again just as the bell tinkles over the front door. It’s Brittany’s science teacher and the flower-switching judge, Emily.

  She sticks her head inside. “Is this the infamous murder mystery book club I’ve heard so much about?”

  “Yes. And we’re always looking for new members. Come in.” I wave her inside as I stand and cover the murder board. Wouldn’t want her to see her name on it.

  “I can’t stay.” Emily joins us but doesn’t sit. “I was walking by, and it reminded me that I wanted to tell Brittany to do the end-of-chapter quiz as well. And I hope I didn’t cause any trouble for your father, Sawyer. I thought it best Dylan has all the facts.”

  I nod. “My father explained what happened, so it’s all good.” I hope.

  “Great.” Emily’s eyes drift to the book. “Researching poisons tonight? For which book?”

  Madge says, “We’re actually discussing Tina’s death.”

  “Really?” Emily sinks into a chair. “I thought she fell and hit her head.” She turns to the Admiral for explanation. “You were with her, right?”

  The Admiral nods. “Something happened to her just before she fell.”

  A frown line creases Emily’s forehead. “What does Dylan think, Sawyer?”

  Probably that we should butt out of the investigation. “He hasn’t shared any of his theories with me.”

  “Well, it’s a tragic mystery, that’s for sure.” Emily stands and pushes her chair under the table. “If there’s a murderer on the loose, you might want to lock the door, Sawyer. He or she might kill again if they think you guys have cracked the case. Night, all.”

  That thought sends a shiver up my spine.

  After Emily is gone, I say, “Maybe she’s right. There is a murderer on the loose.” I hop up and lock the front door. “Okay, so let’s get back to it.” I pick up the book and thumb to the marked pages. “There’s a section in here about common poisons. Let’s see if anything causes the symptoms Tina had.”

  “Before we start…” Madge takes a deep drink from her mug. “Are we still on for our little girls’ trip to Monterey tomorrow?” Madge slips her eyes in the Admiral’s direction as if reminding me that our excursion is supposed to be a secret.

  “Absolutely.” I appreciate Madge keeping what I learned about Pattie to herself, but her exaggerated eye movements almost make me laugh. “Okay, here we go. This is interesting. Do you know what they used to call inheritance powder back in the day?”

  They both shake their heads.

  “Arsenic. It easily dissolves in warm liquid and was often slipped into teas and coffee to kill off old but wealthy men so their heirs could collect their fortune.”

  “Wow. That’s cold,” Madge says, and then quickly sets her mug down. “I don’t think I’ll ever look at the coffee my hubs makes for me every morning quite the same again.”

  The Admiral grabs Madge’s hand. “Let me see your nails. If you were being poisoned with arsenic, you’d have horizontal white lines.” He leans closer to inspect her bare nails. “Nope. You’re good.”

  “Well, I should hope so.” Madge picks up her mug, but quickly puts it down again. “I’m going to bust open some wine. Be right back.”

  The Admiral must have been quite the walking encyclopedia when he was young. He’s still exceptionally good at figuring out the “who dunnit” in the books they all read.

  “Wait.” I hold up a hand as I read the symptoms of the drug. “Arsenic causes an upset stomach, not paralysis like Tina had. So that’s out.”

  I dig further, amazed at how many plants and even fruits can be poisonous. Even ground cherry pits? Who knew?

  As I continue reading through the extensive list, a wineglass appears beside me. What the heck, one glass won’t hurt. I take a sip and then find what I’m after.

  “Here it is. Poisons that cause paralysis. Nightshade, hemlock, and strychnine. Another poison found in birds, amphibians, and beetles called batrachotoxin causes similar respiratory system paralysis. The victim can’t move but is aware of the surroundings because the mind is unaffected. It says here that Socrates was found guilty of heresy and forced to drink hemlock while his students watched and took notes.” Imagining that sends a shiver up my spine. “Now that’s really cold!”

  The Admiral says, “I recall a story a few years back about some horses eating beetle-infected hay and dying like that.”

  Madge says, “Remind me to avoid beetles from now on too.” She holds up her phone. “Found it. Hemlock grows wild around here. Let me see about the other plants.”

  I turn to the Admiral. “Does my mother have any of these plants growing in her greenhouse?”

  “No. She gave up growing all but her roses years ago. It became too much work.”

  Madge calls out, “Yep. All three grow in California. It also says hemlock roots can be mistaken for parsnips and the leaves for parsley. I wonder what Tina ate for lunch before the show?”

  “Good question,” I say. “We know she had a to-go cup from the diner. There’s a good chance she ate something there too. We’ll add checking that out at the top of our to-do list tomorrow.” I’m excited we might finally be making some progress. “But how long does hemlock take to kick in? Tina died so suddenly.”

  “Give me one sec.” Madge taps away on her phone. “Anywhere from thirty minutes to hours.”

  I blow out a breath. “Okay. Maybe we’re on to something here. Admiral, will you please be in charge of checking out strychnine and nightshade, or belladonna, as it’s commonly known? And about the animals that carry that toxin, but that seems less likely.”

  He nods. “I’ll get on it as soon as morning inspection of the troops is complete.”

  Whoops. And now he’s back to his old self. Maybe he’s just tired. Best to play along. “Sounds like a battle plan. Let me know when and if you find anything useful.”

  He salutes. “You got it, Sailor. See you tomorrow.”

  The Admiral stands and makes his way to the door. After he’s
gone, Madge says, “I’ll do a little digging into his assigned things too. Just in case. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Dylan will leave some better clues for us to find tomorrow as well. He’s been a mess all afternoon.”

  I’m not upset to hear that. “You know, don’t you?”

  Madge pours us both more wine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. Was it your idea for Dylan to break up with me? And to make me miss him?”

  Madge runs a thumb and forefinger across her lips like a zipper. “I’ve been sworn to secrecy by him when it comes to you.”

  She’s like a big sister to Dylan, and he tells her everything. “Okay. Then how about another question. Why hasn’t Dylan shown me the house he’s building?”

  “No can do. That still involves you. Hopefully. I better run before I drink too much wine and slip up.” She sets her almost-full glass down. “But he loves you, Sawyer. That much has always been true. Night.”

  “Good night.” I take another sip of wine as I let my mind wander over the information we dug up tonight. Then a horrible thought hits, so I pick up my phone.

  When Dad answers, I ask, “Did you have lunch with Tina on the day she died?”

  He replies, “Of course. It was the gentlemanly thing to do because she was going to help out in the show. Luckily, she’s a light eater, so it didn’t cost me too much.”

  That sick feeling is creeping back into my gut again. “What did she order?”

  My dad says, “A small chef salad.”

  I drop my head into my hands and moan. “And the stew continues to thicken. Or perhaps salad in this case.”

  Chapter 10

  Early Wednesday morning, I’m drinking coffee in the kitchen with a heavy heart. Our meeting with Brittany’s mother looms like a thick fog. I’m trying to form a game plan to keep Brittany here when my sister strolls in and, thankfully, puts an end to my musings. Meg’s wearing the same sweats she wore the day before, and her dark hair is a rat’s nest. I’ve never seen her so disheveled. Am I going to have to start worrying about her now too?