I nodded, but then shook my head. “But wouldn’t the M.E. have seen signs of that? I mean, wouldn’t her lips and throat be all swollen?”
“One would think so,” he admitted. “But not all allergic reactions result in anaphylaxis.”
I moved over to the refrigerator and peeked inside it. There was some of the leftover fruit juice and the Sprite we’d used for the punch. I got them out and set them on the counter. “Gil?”
“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.
“Do you remember the exact ingredients for the punch?”
“Roughly. It called for iced tea, orange juice, Sprite, sliced oranges, sugar, lemon juice, cinnamon sticks, and some cloves.”
“Do me a favor,” I said, getting all of those ingredients out from the fridge and the cupboards. “Look up allergic reactions to all of the individual ingredients and see what you get.”
Gilley began to type into his tablet as I rummaged through the cupboards for the cinnamon and cloves. “Huh,” he said.
“What?” I said with a small groan as I stretched to reach the upper shelf.
“This recipe that Heather sent you? I think she took it from a Pinterest board called Let’s Do Punch.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said, setting the cinnamon on the counter. “Pinterest would be where I’d go for punch recipes.”
“Yeah, the only difference is that Heather used Sprite instead of tonic,” Gilley said.
I froze, midway to reaching for the cloves. Turning slowly, I said, “Wait, what did you say?”
Gilley blinked at me. “She substituted Sprite for tonic water. I’d probably make the same swap.”
“Quinine,” I said breathlessly.
“What?” he asked. He hadn’t heard me.
“Quinine!” I yelled excitedly. “It’s the active ingredient in tonic water!”
Gilley’s jaw dropped. “Ohmigod!” He knew exactly what I meant. “My great-aunt Mable was allergic to quinine! She said she’d had one drink in her whole life. A gin and tonic, and it sent her to the hospital!”
“Quick!” I told him, forgetting all about the cloves. “Google reactions to quinine!”
Gilley plugged that into the search box, and I waited impatiently while his eyes darted back and forth across the screen. “Eureka,” he whispered. “Cat, you’re a freaking genius. Listen to this, ‘In acute cases, patients with severe allergic reactions to quinine can suffer from flu-like symptoms such as chills, fever, headache, nausea, and muscle aches all the way to a sudden onset of acute abdominal pain, loss of consciousness, renal failure, internal bleeding, and system-wide organ failure. And these can all happen within a matter of minutes.’”
I rushed over to my phone and lifted it, ready to call Shepherd and tell him my theory, but Gilley stopped me. “What’re you doing?”
“Calling Shepherd.”
“Why?”
“To tell him about the quinine.”
“But we’re supposed to be butting out,” he said. “Won’t he get mad? Especially if we’re wrong.”
“We’re not wrong,” I said, setting down the phone. “At least I don’t think we’re wrong.”
“If Heather were allergic to tonic, wouldn’t her friends know?”
“What friends?” I deadpanned.
“Ha,” Gil said flatly. “You know who I mean.”
I tapped my lip and thought for a moment. “Sunny would know.”
“Should we call her? She’s Shepherd’s sister. She’d probably tattle on us.”
“I’ll ask her not to,” I said, reaching for my keys. “She seems the type to keep some things secret from her brother.”
“Wait, you’re driving over there?”
“No. We’re driving over there.”
“Why can’t we just call?”
“Do you have her number?” I asked.
“No, but I’m sure I could get it.”
I sighed. “Come on, Gilley. Let’s just drive over there and talk to her like real people.”
With a little more persuading, I managed to get Gilley into the car, and we drove over to Sunny’s. After knocking on her door, I realized that it was close to nine o’clock. Not super late, but late enough where she might be annoyed at the interruption.
I needn’t have worried. Sunny came to the door and smiled when she saw me through the glass insert. “Hello, Catherine!” she said brightly. “What brings you by?”
“Good evening, Sunny. So sorry to disturb you,” I began.
“Oh, pish,” she said with a wave of her hand. “This baby is giving me such bad heartburn I need to keep busy to keep my mind off it. You showed up at the perfect time.” Turning to Gilley, she stuck out her hand for a handshake and added, “Hello. I’m Sunny.”
“And I’m charmed,” Gilley said, taking her hand and tipping it slightly to kiss the back of it. “But most people call me Gilley. Gilley Gillespie.”
Sunny giggled. “Well, Gilley, aren’t you adorable?”
“Yes,” he said quickly. “From head to toe, or so I’ve been told. Repeatedly.”
I rolled my eyes. “Gilley is staying in my guest house,” I said as Sunny laughed. “He’s my dearest friend, and he and I were chatting a bit about Heather.”
“Ah, the mystery that everyone keeps speculating about,” she said. “My brother’s had his hands full since this all happened.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
Her brow furrowed. “Is he still bugging you, Catherine? You just say the word and I’ll tell him to back the heck off. He and I may be twins, but I’m still the oldest.”
I pressed my lips with a finger to hide a smile. Sunny was such a thin, willowy woman. The only large thing about her was the baby bump under her long sweater. It was hard to imagine her brother ever being even remotely intimidated by her. “He’s not bothering me,” I assured her. “In fact, it might be the other way around.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said. “About time somebody gave Steve a good run for his money. But I’m off track. You wanted to ask me about Heather?”
“Yes,” I said. “Do you know if she had any food allergies?”
“Food allergies?” Sunny said.
“Yes,” Gilley said. “Did she ever become violently ill due to something she ate or drank?”
Sunny scratched the side of her head. “No. Not that I know of. But she did have a bad reaction to some medicine once. But that was when we were little kids . . . ages ago.”
“She had a bad reaction to medicine?” I asked eagerly. “Do you know what the medicine was?”
Sunny shook her head. “We were at a sleepover. I think we were, like, twelve, and Heather was having terrible leg cramps. They were keeping her up and uncomfortable. The girl who was hosting the sleepover gave Heather a pill from her mom’s stash in the medicine cabinet, telling her that her mom took it for leg cramps. Heather popped the pill, and literally within just a few minutes, she’s throwing up and doubled over in pain. She had to be rushed to the hospital. It was super scary at the time, and our poor friend got into a heap of trouble over it. I’m sorry I don’t remember any more than that.”
I looked at Gilley, disappointed. I’d been hoping Sunny would’ve remembered an incident involving tonic water, but Gilley began to dance on the balls of his feet with excitement. “Actually, Sunny, that’s very helpful. Thank you.”
“That’s it? That’s all you needed to know?”
“It is,” Gilley said. “But do us a favor and don’t tell your brother just yet that we were asking about Heather, okay?”
Sunny grinned. “Sure,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Gilley offered her his most beaming smile. “Have yourself a lovely night, sugar.”
Taking me by the hand, Gilley turned and walked us back toward the car. “Want to explain?” I asked him as we got in.
He waited until we were in the car to say, “Quinine pills are used to treat leg cramps!”
“Oh my God!�
�� I exclaimed high fiving him. “We figured it out!”
“We did!”
“Okay, let’s go back and tell Shepherd,” Gilley said.
I put the car into drive, and we wound our way out of the cul-de-sac where Sunny lived and over three streets to the one leading to Chez Cat. Before I pulled into the driveway, however, I stopped the car and turned to Gil. “What if they accuse us of the crime?” I asked him.
“What now?” Gil said.
“Gilley, we prepared the punch. If someone did put some tonic water into it, and that killed Heather, it’s our butts that’ll be on the hook for it.”
“Oh, no,” Gilley said. “Cat, you’re right! So what do we do?”
In answer, I turned to look at Heather’s house, which was dark and suddenly foreboding. “I think we need to find the smoking gun.”
“Come again?”
“If we can find a discarded bottle of tonic water, it might have the killer’s fingerprints on it.”
“You think the assassin left a bottle of tonic with their fingerprints behind?”
“No, I don’t. And I don’t think the assassin killed Heather.”
“Well, if I were Carmen and I knew that Heather had that severe of an allergy to quinine, I sure as heck wouldn’t leave behind a bottle of tonic. It’d be the first thing I took as I headed out the door.”
“I don’t think Carmen killed Heather either,” I said. “I think we’re looking for someone we haven’t currently suspected.”
“Like who?”
“Like anyone who hated Heather.”
“That’s the whole town,” Gilley said. “Anyone who rules with an iron fist the way Heather did isn’t exactly beloved.”
“Which is why we need to see if there’s a used bottle of tonic water at the estate.”
“Wouldn’t that have been tossed in the trash by now?”
“Yes, which is my whole point. Shepherd’s had that place locked up since the day Heather died. Trash is being collected tomorrow, so it’s probably still inside the house, in a garbage bag.”
“But why would the killer leave it behind? Wouldn’t they want to take it with them?”
“Maybe,” I said, putting the car into drive again and pulling away from the curb. “But maybe not. I mean, if the killer was at the party and mingling with the other guests, wouldn’t it have looked suspicious if they were to walk out with an empty bottle of tonic in their hands? Especially given Heather’s allergy?”
“They could’ve easily concealed a small bottle of it in their purse, Cat.”
I sighed. “True. Still, Gilley, I think we should have a look around. Peeking in the windows shouldn’t get us into trouble, right? I mean, it’s not like we can actually get inside.”
Gilley looked at me with a small measure of guilt on his face. “Actually, we can.”
My brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”
“While I was reviewing footage off Heather’s security camera, I discovered that she had a hidden camera set up in the kitchen—probably to spy on poor Carmen. Anyway, it points to the back of the kitchen with a clear shot of the back door. No one enters or exits the back door suspiciously, except for one tiny occurrence about three days before Heather was murdered. On that day, Carmen forgot her key. You can see her through the kitchen door’s window, searching her purse, coming up empty, then trying the door, which of course was locked. She then appeared to spend some time bent over and looking around on the ground, searching for something. Finally, she came up with the key and unlocked the door before putting it back somewhere on the ground again. My guess is that there’s one of those fake rocks near the back door.”
I beamed at him, then put the car into gear and hit the gas. “You’re good,” I told him.
“Duh.”
I punched the brakes again, rocking us forward. “Is there an alarm, though?”
Gil put a hand to his chest where the seat belt had pinched him. “Girl, please. The keypad is right by the door. I watched Carmen punch in the code, which Heather programmed—with no imagination as it’s just nine-three-four-nine-three-four.”
“Our area code twice over,” I said.
“Yeppers.”
“Okay,” I told him. “Let’s do this!”
At Gilley’s suggestion, I drove past Heather’s place and parked the car off the shoulder and right next to the woods. As that area was curbed and traffic this time of night was spotty, I hoped no one reported it as suspicious. “Maybe we should’ve walked,” I said, reconsidering leaving the car in plain view.
Gilley opened his car door. “We’re here now. We might as well have a quick look around and get this over with as soon as possible.”
Gil and I kept close to the woods as we trotted toward the mansion. The place was dark and definitely creepy at this time of night. “This feels like old times,” Gil said softly.
“You mean when you were M.J.’s partner?”
“Yes,” Gil said, adding a shudder.
“I’m sure it’s not haunted,” I told him, without actually feeling very sure. I mean, the place was fairly old, and it was also super-foreboding in the dark.
We were silent the rest of the way and at last made it to the kitchen door. Gilley and I used our phones’ flashlight feature to hunt for the fake rock hiding the key.
Gilley found it in under ten seconds. “Ah ha!” he said triumphantly.
“Let’s hope the key is still inside,” I said, taking his phone so that he could use both hands to open the rock.
“Ah ha!” Gilley said again, lifting up the key.
I smiled in spite of my racing heart and nervousness. “Okay, let’s get inside and look around.”
Gilley inserted the key, and we easily entered the kitchen. The smell hit us immediately.
“Oh, gah!” I said, coughing and nearly gagging above the sound of the beeping alarm panel. “What is that smell?”
“Week-old garbage,” Gil said, coughing as well. “Plug your nose while I put in the code on the alarm panel.”
Gil punched in the alarm, and with a satisfying beep, the keypad stopped dinging. “Should we turn on a light?” he asked me.
“No!” I said, my voice sounding odd because I’d pinched my nostrils closed. “We can use our phones for light. Keep low and away from the windows, though, so we aren’t seen from the road.”
Gilley looked about the kitchen. “Cat, the only windows in here face the ocean. I think it’s okay to turn on a light.”
“Good point,” I said, flipping on a switch.
The kitchen came into view, and it looked spotlessly clean, but several of the cabinet doors were either fully or partially open. Parked next to the kitchen door were four garbage bags, the obvious source of the smell. They appeared to have been rummaged through as there were pieces of trash all about the bags on the floor, but the bags themselves were still fairly full.
I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end when I saw them like that. “Do you think the police left the bags like that?” I asked Gilley, who was staring at them with a bit of alarm.
“God, I hope so,” he replied.
“Should we look through them?”
“I almost think we have to, but I really, really don’t want to.”
I moved over to the kitchen sink, covered my hand with my sweater, and pulled open the bottom cabinet. Rummaging around, I found two pairs of latex gloves and brought them back to Gilley. “One pair for each of us,” I said.
“Smart,” he said, taking the offering and donning the gloves. “Let’s get this over with.”
Gilley and I each chose a bag and sorted through the waste. It was an awful job. The garbage smelled rancid from all the wasted fare from the luncheon. “This is so gross,” Gilley muttered.
I couldn’t have agreed more.
Still, we kept to the task until we’d gone through all four bags. “No smoking gun,” I said, coming up for air and pulling off the gloves.
Gilley stood up from h
is crouched position next to the last bag. Wiping his brow with his forearm, he said, “I’m gonna need a shower after this.”
“Should we continue to look?” I asked.
Gilley pulled off his gloves too. “For a bottle of tonic? I think we have to, just so we can put this ridiculousness to bed.”
I made a face at him. “It’s not ridiculousness if we find something.”
Gilley rolled his eyes and moved away from the garbage. Walking over to the pantry, he glanced back at me as he pulled on the door and said, “What’re we gonna find, Cat? A big empty bottle of tonic water that says ‘poison’?”
I gasped as I had a peek inside the pantry. Gilley was still looking at me, and I could see his brow furrow. “No,” I told him softly. “But we might find Carmen.”
Gilley’s head swiveled ever so slowly toward the pantry, and he jumped back when he spotted the elusive housekeeper standing there, her back against the wall of shelves and a terrified look on her face. “Don’t kill me!” she squeaked.
Gil and I didn’t say anything at first. I think we were both too stunned. Finally, I found my voice. “What’re you doing here, Carmen?”
She didn’t reply. She simply stared at me with an almost feral look in her eye.
Gil shuffled slowly back to me, and out of the side of his mouth, he asked, “What should we do?”
“Well . . . ,” I began. But for a moment I was at a loss. “Maybe we should call the police?”
It was Carmen’s turn to gasp, and then something kind of extraordinary happened. Her eyes misted with moisture; then actual tears began to fall.
“I don’t think she wants us to do that,” Gilley whispered.
I bit my lip. “Carmen,” I said gently, “They’re looking for you.”
“I know they’re looking for me!” she yelled. “They want to blame me for Miss Heather’s murder!”
“She has a point,” Gilley said.
Ignoring Gilley, I took a step toward Carmen. “Maybe,” I agreed. It wouldn’t do any good to pretend that she wouldn’t be a suspect in the case. “But mostly they can protect you. We know about the woman who’s trying to kill you.”
Carmen gasped again and threw her arm across her eyes dramatically. “She wants to murder me too!”
“Yes,” I said.
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