A Choice Cocktail of Death (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2)

by Christine Zane Thomas

  We thought for a minute but were clearly stumped.

  “I think that’s a good list,” Marcus finally said. “George’s son, Johnny, Mara, and Suzi.”

  I snapped a picture of the sheet of paper. Maybe tonight I’d bring my bulletin board out of retirement. If anything, I wanted to clear Suzi’s name from that list, if only for my own benefit.

  7

  “Mind if I ask you all some questions?” Javier was a sight for sore eyes—I was afraid we were going to be questioned by Detective Burley.

  Javier was as unlike his partner as was possible. The blue-eyed detective was average height and build, maybe six-foot tall, maybe a little less. His skin was less tanned in the winter, more olive. Detective Hank Burley was burly. He was heavy set with curly brown hair that didn’t so much as frame his face but instead mushroomed away from it.

  Kate folded our suspects list and stuffed it inside her purse. The quick wink she shot me had two meanings, I knew, because Kate was fully aware of my schoolgirl crush on the detective.

  “I need names, please, before we get started,” Javier said, all business. “Marcus Knight, I already have your statement. I know you two—Kate McAllister, and Allie Treadwell. And you two are?”

  “Patrick Howard.”

  “Greg Robbins.”

  “And what can you tell me about what happened to Mr. Wilson?”

  “I didn’t really see what happened,” said Greg. “He was alive, and then he wasn’t.”

  “Well, I saw a bit more than that,” Patrick interjected. “See, George did this toast. I thought maybe he was nervous. He was sweating and a bit out of breath. Then he sat back down, and it looked like he had a seizure. He just fell over, convulsing. That was it. I’ve never seen something like it in real life. Oh, and then this fella—” Patrick put his hand on Marcus’s shoulder, “—he did CPR for a bit. I guess you know what went down after that.”

  Javier cleared his throat and focused on his notebook as he jotted down notes.

  “Thanks for your time, Patrick, Greg. The uniformed cops will get a look at your driver’s licenses and let you out.” Javier pressed his lips together, giving Kate and I a trepidatious look. “Now, you two. I know y’all are going to give me something good.”

  “I saw the whole thing happen,” I blurted out. “Well, not everything—but a lot. Let’s see, George seemed fine when Luke and I talked to him earlier. In here, actually.”

  “Luke?” Javier asked.

  “The guy at the hospital,” Marcus told him. “The one who helped do CPR.”

  “Ah.” Javier nodded.

  “My date,” I admitted.

  Javier’s pen faltered on the notepad. “All right, go on,” he encouraged.

  “George was getting a drink. He was nervous about the party.”

  “Suzi got the drinks for them,” Marcus interrupted.

  “Right, Suzi got their drinks.” Like my first interview with the handsome detective, I began to get clammy. I’d already put the one person in a bad light that I didn’t want to put there. “Anyway,” I said, trying to change the topic, “George got flushed after he had a drink or two. Something was off. When he was at the table before his toast, he was lethargic. It seemed like he was having trouble even breathing.”

  “So, that was before the toast?” Javier asked.

  “Allie, how did you pick up on this?” Kate asked.

  “I was worried about him, about tonight. I wanted this to go well just as much as he did. You know how I get.” Just thinking about this all over again made tears stream down my face. I wasn’t sobbing, per se, but leaking from my eyes and nose.

  Kate patted my arm. “I know.”

  When I finally looked up, Javier shifted on his feet uncomfortably, almost like he’d wanted to console me—or at least that’s what I wanted him to be thinking. “Now, Miss McCallister, is there anything you’d like to add?”

  “I think Miss People Watcher, here, covered it.” Kate squeezed my hand. “But would you like our suspect list?”

  “You have a suspect list?” Javier shook his head with a smile. “Of course you do. Hand it over.”

  Kate found the piece of paper and offered it to the detective. She managed to look like she was presenting him with the prize in a game show.

  “Right now,” Kate said, “we are looking at Mara Murdock, the bartender, Suzi, and George’s son, what was his name again?”

  “Blake,” I said, remembering Mara saying it as she shooed him away.

  “Blake?” Javier questioned.

  “Mara kicked Blake out as we arrived at the party.”

  “Got it.” Javier scribbled feverishly in his handy-dandy little notebook. “Well, thank you for the information. Y’all are also cleared to go home. If you think of anything else, I know at least one of you has my number.”

  The way he said it, it was almost like he insinuated I should have called or text him in the last few months. If only he knew how many times I’d deleted a novel’s worth of text before not hitting send.

  The chandelier was lit brightly, making the night sky look pitch black with no stars. The air was crisp and cool. Gooseflesh prickled on my shoulders as we stepped outside. Down from the porch a few officers were huddled in their jackets, one blew foggy breath, the others were smoking cigarettes.

  From here, and with this bitter cold, Marcus’s truck looked so far away. But ever the gentlemen, he whipped off his coat and slipped it over Kate’s shoulders. The two began down the porch steps when something, or rather, someone caught the periphery of my eyes’ attention.

  “Hey! Do you two mind if we stick around a bit longer?” I asked. “I need to talk to Suzi.”

  “Fine with me.” Kate sighed, her fists clenched in frustration. “We missed the Ten O’clock. I called off the dogs. Terrell’s going to meet me here in the morning for a live broadcast.”

  “Dang,” Marcus said, “that guy owes me ten bucks. I was hoping we could square up.”

  “Keep dreaming,” Kate said flatly. “Here, let’s wait in the truck.” She shrugged off Marcus’s coat, and before I could protest, wrapped it around my shoulders. Then the two of them were off down the hill toward the gravel lot, which was now almost empty.

  Suzi was wrapped in a shawl, rocking alone in one of the handmade rocking chairs on the porch. She stared off toward the crescent moon on the horizon but wasn’t paying it or anything any attention. Her eyes were red, and tears still marked her cheeks. George’s death had really begun to sink in, and Suzi was drowning.

  “Suzi,” I said softly. “Are you okay?” I found the next rocking chair and scooted it closer to hers.

  “No. But thanks for asking. He was murdered, Allie. Poisoned.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “The lumpy detective asked me where George got his drinks. So, I told him. I got them. Allie, you should’ve seen the look he gave me.”

  “They don’t know you,” I said. “Trust me. Detective Portillo will get this sorted out.” I gave Suzi another look. She was in a right bad state. “Do you need a ride home or anything? Are you going to be all right to drive?”

  “I’m fine.” She sniffled. “Thanks for offering. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here tonight.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. The cold seeped into the coat, and I was shivering—at least until a commotion before the front porch steps cured them momentarily.

  “George Wilson is my father. This is my house. You need to let me up there.” I peered into the darkness where the three officers had barred Blake Wilson from entering.

  One of the officers spoke into the radio on his shoulder, and a minute later Javier stepped outside. Blake was allowed up to the porch. He hardly resembled the angry man I saw escorted out of the building earlier tonight. His color was drained. His eyes were red, and his hair was a wreck. I could see why as he combed through it with two hands as if to rip some of it out.

  “Where is he? What happened? I need an
swers.” Blake directed his questions to Javier but his emotions were meant for the world around him.

  “Sir, I need you to calm down,” Javier said firmly.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” Suzi said under her breath. She turned and whispered to me, “I almost forgot. He and George had a quarrel before the evening started.”

  It was then Javier caught sight of the two of us.

  “One minute,” he told Blake. “You mind waiting inside the hallway?” He directed the boy through the door, then walked over toward us. “What are you still doing here?” he asked us. “Go home. It’s been a long night. It’s only going to get longer. Leave us, and let us do our jobs. Oh, and Suzi, we’ll be in touch.”

  My heart sank with those words.

  8

  In all of the turmoil and the time since dinner started, Marcus had sobered up. And he insisted on driving, despite my generous offer to cover the duties.

  It didn’t help that Kate wasn’t exactly on my side either. “Allie, have you ever even driven a truck this big? Your right tire hugs the curbside in your little compact. In this truck, well, it’d be on the curb.”

  “I can’t help that I like to steer clear of oncoming traffic.”

  “No, no.” Kate waggled a finger at me. “You can help it. You just won’t. Marcus is fine to drive. Trust me.”

  “Okay,” I huffed, getting in the backseat—alone this time.

  I wasn’t paying much attention to all the unnecessary turns the truck made. Instead, my mind focused, processing through the clues. I’d come into the night prepared for a mystery—I might as well try to solve it, right?

  Because Johnny mixed the drinks, he had the easiest chance of poisoning a drink. I guess it could’ve been the food, the soup maybe, but the chances of that seemed slim. The drinks seemed an obvious choice. And George said he never drank. I remembered, again, the way he struggled to swallow that first drink—the one Suzi had served him. Then Mara delivered drinks before the toast. She, too, would have had the chance to poison his drink. But wasn’t he already looking off?

  Lastly, there was Blake. Did he really leave the estate? Did he somehow manage to poison the drink without anyone seeing? That was a long shot, but it couldn’t be ruled out.

  I sighed and leaned against the window, only to realize that the outside was far too lit with the white floodlights of a parking lot.

  “Where are we?” I asked but immediately found my answer. “The hospital?”

  “Yeah,” Marcus said. “We’re just goanna stop in for a minute. Is that okay?”

  “Would it matter if I said no?”

  “Probably not,” Kate admitted. She hopped out of the door, already using her hands to warm up her shoulders. I realized I was still in Marcus’s coat.

  “Hey, jerk! Oh, and ladies.” Luke smiled as we entered his room. There was a hockey game on the TV. He seemed in as good a spirit as ever, wearing a hospital gown and what looked like a pair of pajama pants. He wasn’t even bedridden, but instead got up and gave Marcus one of those thumb interlocking handshake greetings, dragging along an IV attached to his wrist.

  “Jerk, is it?” Marcus scoffed. “Well, if that’s how it is—we can just leave.”

  “Don’t do that,” Luke pleaded playfully. “It was just a joke. Kate, did you know how sensitive my man, right here, is?”

  “I’m beginning to see.” Kate smiled.

  “Allie, hi,” Luke acknowledged me. “And I thought the date was over…”

  “Not yet.” I played along but being here felt forced. Inner me wanted to be home right now with my bulletin board, piecing together what happened to George.

  “So, what’s happening?” asked Marcus.

  “Overnight observation. They can’t be too careful. But I’m fine. The doc says it’s definitely poison, but they won’t know what just yet. They sent about a gallon of my blood to be tested. Ya know, after missing the mark eight or nine times.”

  Marcus shook his head. “Considering you make your money from doctors, you better hush up.”

  Luke playfully pressed his pointer finger to his lips. “Mum’s the word.”

  “Well, we’ve had a long night. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t on a ventilator or some crap like that. We’ll get out of your hair and let you watch this, uh, hockey.”

  “It’s the only thing on,” alleged Luke.

  “Nah, I can name two NBA games this minute,” Marcus told him. “Maybe not on this cable.” Marcus tugged at Kate’s fingertips, and they eased toward the door. I was there with them.

  “Allie, can you hang back a second?” Luke asked.

  “Sure.” I hoped that didn’t come out as strained as it felt.

  “I had a good time tonight,” Luke said sweetly. “Really, I did. Well, minus the whole guy dying thing.”

  “Minus that, I did too,” I admitted. He had this boyish look now, tender. I got caught up staring into his brown eyes.

  “I’d like to kiss you, but given the circumstances, it’s probably best I don’t.”

  “Yeah… I don’t really kiss on the first date anyway.” He looked hurt at those words. “I’m sorry. I like you. I had fun with you. I’m just not the kind of girl who kisses on the first date. It’s not you. It’s me. I hope that’s okay?”

  “Definitely.” He bounced back and was smiling again. “Just as long as you agree to meet me for dinner on Tuesday.”

  “I think I can agree to that,” I said, smiling.

  “Great. I’ll see you Tuesday.” He gave me a hug.

  There were two quick raps at the door. Knock. Knock.

  “Marcus…” Luke glowered at the door.

  “Not Marcus,” said a familiar voice. Then Detective Javier Portillo’s head poked into the cracked open doorway. He was startled to see me, momentarily taken aback.

  “Miss Treadwell,” he said. I couldn’t help but notice I was no longer Allie. I was relegated to Miss Treadwell. “I need to speak to the patient alone, if you don’t mind.”

  “That’s fine. I was just leaving.”

  The door opened wide. “Oh, were you?” Javier looked down the hallway. I guessed at Marcus and Kate. “I can drive you home after this. If that’s good with you?”

  I nodded. “Sure.”

  This time, the word came out with little hesitance. And Luke seemed to notice.

  “Hi, uh, who are you?”

  “I’m Detective Portillo.” He flashed his badge. “I’ve got few questions I need to ask you. Allie, can you wait in the hallway?”

  I nodded compliantly and stepped out into the hall.

  “So, Tuesday night?” Javier said, easing his cruiser out of the hospital parking lot.

  “What about it?”

  “Your date with Luke. I guess he seemed nice enough.” Javier had a fatherly tone—one I didn’t really care for.

  “He is nice,” I stated. But I dialed it back and said, “Kind of like you.”

  Javier smiled at this. Though it was dark, I heard the click his cheek made as his dimple locked into place. “I guess I just didn’t know it was that easy,” Javier admitted.

  “What was that easy? To ask someone out? It’s pretty much that easy.”

  “Forget it,” Javier said. He turned down Mocking Bird Street, then found my house without a problem. I eased open the door and the compartment light in the center of the car popped on, revealing Javi in full glory. He had the good looks of a soap opera star. “I suppose you’re off to investigate now, aren’t you?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I just picture you with like a bulletin board and a cup of coffee stringing together the clues. That’s what you did last time, right?”

  “I never told you I have a bulletin board…”

  “You didn’t have to.” He smirked. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from the estate and all the people on your suspects list. If you find anything, you call me. All right?”

  “I’ll call you,” I said, nodding. He had this easy way of
flustering me to the point I wasn’t even sure I wanted to dig the bulletin board from the recesses of my office—the place I’d buried it after using it to help solve Jessica’s murder.

  Despite Javier, or maybe because of him, I found it, tore the old sticky notes off, and began crafting it anew.

  A new murder. A new investigation. The same ol’ Allie Treadwell.

  9

  Buzz. Buzz. My phone trembled on the night stand. Even on silent, it still managed to wake me, the lightest sleeper on planet Earth. I managed to peek open one eye. My lashes were stuck together, and I clawed at them with my nails until I was able to get both eyes open. Then I checked the time. I knew I was bound to miss church when I’d turned off the alarm last night, but even my groggy eyes widened when I saw it was already past noon.

  I left the phone on the nightstand as I rushed to the bathroom. The floors were like ice to my bare feet. There were some things about winter I would never get used to and a cold floor was one of them.

  I grabbed a bath cloth from underneath the sink and let the water run for a good while before even checking it. The pipes would be as frozen as the floor, I was certain. Once the water temperature met my approval, I placed the worn cloth under the stream. Then I gently scrubbed my face clean. But my eyes didn’t wash up as easily as the rest of my face. Little black rings wouldn’t budge from below my lower lashes. The beauty of Kate’s makeup. I didn’t let my eyes linger on my reflection too long. I looked like a flapper girl warmed-over.

  I tiptoed to the dresser and found a pair of cozy woolen socks before picking up the phone with clear eyes. There were fifteen unread texts. Nine were from my mother alone, two from Kate, and four more were from the editor at the Lanai Gazette, Kinsey.

  Work came first, even on Sunday. Kinsey was upset I didn’t relay any news to her before the night’s printing. And now she expected my review on the murder mystery dinner to be much more than originally anticipated.