Deadly Diet

by Kodi Heart

  What exactly did she want?

  There was no return email and the hotel listed on the front and the address in the upper corner that was typed in didn’t give me anything but where it was.

  I pulled out my phone and looked up maps. Port Orford. A small town on the beach of Oregon north of California. It was a twelve-hour drive from my place, so I couldn’t just zip over there and check things out. Was she still there?

  What was I supposed to do?

  I couldn’t call Nikki or text her. She’d never understand why Kiki had contacted me. I didn’t want Nikki to hurt any more than she already was. Her pain was my pain and I couldn’t handle much more. Telling her would only increase that pain.

  There really wasn’t a compelling reason to tell anyone. I resolved to keep my mouth shut. She didn’t need to know. Mom didn’t need to know. I folded the card in half and tucked it to the side of the microwave. Out of sight, out of mind. But I knew I was going to be distracted by the cards for a long while.

  12

  Aaron and the kids opted out of the funeral. Thankfully, I could leave them with him at home.

  I tugged on the edge of the black wrap I’d worn over my black skirt and black button-up shirt. Black was slimming and I could pretend it made me look like a svelte piece of licorice. Thankfully, I wasn’t invited to a wedding where I’d end up looking like a dumpling.

  “Where’s Aaron and the kids?” Mom stood beside me as we waited in line to get into the funeral home. Who would have thought Debra would pull in such a crowd?

  “Well, according to Aaron, funerals start with fun, but they’re often too tedious for young kids.” I rolled my eyes. “I think he just wanted to try out the new helicopter drone he brought home. The kids seemed pretty excited.”

  We moved forward a couple paces, smiling and nodding at various people we kind of recognized, but weren’t 100% sure from where we knew them from.

  Mom chuckled. “That’s funny.” She fell quiet and then whispered from the side of her mouth, “Do you think Grandpa will come?”

  I jerked my gaze to her, my eyes wide with horror. “No. Do you think Grandma would bring him after what he did at Great-Grandma’s funeral?”

  I was inappropriate at funerals and during jury duty. I came by it honestly, to be fair. My grandpa knew that my Great-grandma’s diabetes frustrated her. She wanted to be able to eat candy all the time, but she hadn’t been able to. She strictly followed her regimen of only two snack-sized pieces of candy a day.

  Rather than quietly resting a rose or a bouquet on Grandma Hoffman’s coffin, he brought in a wheelbarrow filled with full-size Three Musketeers, her favorites, and proceeded to shovel them into the casket with her. He could have given her one candy bar instead of close to five hundred.

  He laughed the whole rest of the funeral, singing inappropriate songs and dancing little jigs by her grave. The weirdest thing about it was how much he loved her. She’d been one of his favorite people and he’d proceeded to go crazy at her funeral. He must have had the same mentality about funerals as Aaron.

  I still had no idea exactly what his actions at the funeral were about, but I remember finding the entire incident hilarious and I kept thinking I wonder if Grandma would mind if I trade her the Snickers I had for a 3-Musketeer.

  “I hope she doesn’t. I’m not sure how prepared Debra’s family is for Fleming drama.” Mom rolled her eyes, then plastered her fake “you’re-lucky-I’m-talking-to-you-and-not-cutting-you” smile. “Holly. I didn’t think you were coming.”

  Ah, there was Aunt Holly in all of her bleached blonde crankiness. Her lips were pinched like she’d eaten a prune and couldn’t decide if she needed to spit or swallow. “I had to come. I heard Grandpa’s coming.” Her blue-green eyes twinkled with anticipation.

  I couldn’t smother my groan. Things were going to get interesting and Aaron was going to be upset that he hadn’t come. I loved Grandpa so much and now I would have to help him with his inappropriate humor at the funeral as well as my own. I wasn’t sure I was up to the task.

  We shuffled into a tighter queue and then suddenly we were at the front of the funeral home’s doors where a man and a woman stood with tight smiles as they shook mourners’ hands.

  Mom reached for the man’s hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  His sandy blond hair was parted just so above the arch of his left eyebrow and combed down in a glossy cascade to just behind his ear. The rest of his hair was kept short and trimmed closely to the hairline. Dark brown eyes hid behind tortoiseshell glasses. His skin was pale where he’d recently shaved off a mustache. A brown and cream suit with pinstriping hugged him in all the wrong places. His smile was tight and uncomfortable, like he wasn’t sure he should be there, but he was going to try anyway. He cleared his throat and nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing with painful pretention. “Thank you. I’m Norris Stockton.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was emotionally reacting to the event or not. It had been over a week since Debra’s death. Was that enough time to get ahold of one’s shock? I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t lost Aaron yet and as it was, I couldn’t imagine going through that.

  The woman beside him was a good twenty-five years his senior. She sniffed small and politely but frequently as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with her cloth light purple handkerchief. She wore a purple and white wool business suit with black Mary Janes. Her silver hair was twisted up into a tight chignon at her crown. Purple eyeshadow completed the look.

  “This is Connie and I’m Bonnie. We were friends with Debra in the Foodie Fools group.” I smiled consolingly as I took the man’s damp hand. Yuck. Every maternal instinct in my gut told me to admonish him to wipe his hands or wash them or something, but I bit my tongue. There was bold and then there was unnecessary.

  “It’s nice to meet you. My wife had great friends in that group. It was a highlight for her to attend. This my mother Lavender Stockton.” He didn’t miss a beat as he widened his smile and displayed teeth as white as snow.

  I reached for Lavender’s gloved hand and winced at her meager handshake. She barely pinched her grip around the tips of my fingers. Hopefully, Grandpa didn’t come. He’d make comments left and right about the woman’s handshake. I wanted to do a quick head swivel and search for him.

  Did I mention I was the one she’d spoken to on the phone on the day of Debra’s death or would that be rude to remind them of that day?

  Lavender sniffed and held onto my hand a second longer than was necessary. “My Norris is going to be a senator. He’s good enough, you know? He can do it. Maybe one day, president.” She nodded, her eyes wide and red-rimmed as she released my hand.

  “Um, that’s nice.” I caught my mom’s gaze and grimaced. She knew what I was asking as she rolled her eyes in response. We both could see the funeral as practice for a political rally in the not-too-distant future. Norris would probably jumpstart his political career with the death of his wife and compound his grief for the public’s sake.

  I had little respect for the tactic, but couldn’t begrudge them exploiting whatever they could to get ahead. Judging them wouldn’t be in my best interest. We moved to stay beside the doors, just inside the foyer, and then spun around at the loud commotion behind us.

  Grandpa’s attention-getting volume was distinct as he all but yelled at Norris and his mother. “Good grief, man, wash those hands and you, you know better. Either shake my hand like you know what you’re doing or tuck those weak things in your pockets. You’re shaking my hand like a pansy boy just out of finishing school.”

  I didn’t try to hide the smile spreading across my face. Grandpa was one of my most favorite people and I’d be hanged if I didn’t enjoy everything about him.

  Grandma appeared, huffing as she reached our sides. “Hurry up, we need to grab a pew before that woman kicks us out.” She motioned toward Grandpa who was locked in a staring contest with Lavender. “Jonathan, Johnathan Fleming, right now.” Grandma’s hiss was more like
a furious roar, but we all pretended like we didn’t hear her reprimanding her husband of sixty years.

  He snapped his gaze to her and nodded. “Of course, Mary, just a second.” He rushed to her side and tucked his hand into his pocket to jingle the small collection of coins he kept there. He looked around like a hawk watching for something entertaining. “Let’s take that pew in front. It looks big enough for all of us.”

  Grandma reached out a hand and patted his arm. “Good idea. Lead the way, we’ll follow.” She glanced surreptitiously toward Lavender and Norris who were busy receiving others in the line. Lavender shot a heated glare Grandpa’s way and Grandma pushed on his back to speed up his progress.

  I fell into line, not a stranger to the way things usually landed around my family.

  We entered a large arena-style room that could comfortably house five-hundred but was only lit up to accommodate approximately two-hundred or so.

  The sounds of our footsteps were swallowed by the thick piled carpet between the golden oak pews. Maroon velvet cushions promised a different experience from one in a Catholic church where you were there for admission of guilt rather than enjoying the proceedings.

  We filed in behind Grandpa who took his spot and then filtered the rest of us around him. Grandma took one side while I claimed the other. Mom was to my left and then Holly beside her.

  As more family trickled in, we were joined by Angie, Aunt Rikki and Uncle Tom, Penny, Jessie and her husband Manning, and Uncle Dwayne. Penny claimed the seat beside Grandma and I rolled my eyes.

  Penny barely tolerated Grandma. She wouldn’t stay in that spot for long.

  Right after I thought it, she stood and shuffled down a bit to make room for Aunt Rikki and Uncle Tom to sit by Grandma. Penny’s lips were tight and she narrowed her gaze as she folded her arms and stared straight again.

  More people filed in and just when I thought for sure it was never going to start, a shiny man who could have been on a restoration gospel live showing whisked into the room. On his ear was a wireless microphone and his thinning hair was combed just so. Even his suit shined!

  He claimed the pulpit like he lived there and had practiced that exact move over and over.

  I settled into my seat. We were in for at least an hour of something. I leaned over to Mom and whispered, “I didn’t bring any snacks.”

  She murmured back, “That’s good. I think I’m out of calories for the day.”

  I sighed. Those calories were going to be the death of me. I looked around. Probably too soon for a death joke, but I was desperately amused by the timing and I longed to tell Grandpa.

  There was no way he’d be able to hear me as I watched him reach up and turn down his hearing aids. Great. There went a whisper partner.

  The pastor introduced a singing group and a song praising Jesus started. I loved that they were keeping some religion in the ceremony.

  Penny’s not-quite-a-whisper reached me from clear down the pew. “Grandma, are you taking notes on what you want for your funeral?”

  I nudged Grandpa with my elbow and pointed at my ears. He turned them back up and looked questioningly in the direction I stared furiously. Everyone in our pew had fallen silent, glaring at the audacity of Penny’s brazen mouth. There was a way to pull off bold and she seemed not to inherit the gene for tact.

  Grandma arched a carefully drawn eyebrow over her brilliant blue eyes. The look she slowly turned toward Penny could have frozen everything in that room. She didn’t even bother whispering and the people around us had turned their attention from the stage to the goings on with us. “I’m never dying, Penny. Take notes for yours.”

  My jaw dropped and I couldn’t stop the guffaw from escaping my lips. All of my aunts gasped and then exhaled on an uncomfortable chuckle.

  I glanced at Mom and nodded with a wide grin. Penny was an idiot to think she would get away with something like that. You didn’t talk to Grandma that way without getting sliced by her famous Fleming wit.

  Grandpa looked around at all of us, making sure we each caught his eye and saw how stern he was. He reached up and turned down his hearing aids for the last time, raising his voice as he spoke. “You guys did that to yourselves.”

  We couldn’t contain our laughter and, as a group, we burst into chortles and laughs as people around us looked at us in dismay. Their reactions, of course, only made us laugh harder.

  I leaned over to Mom in between gasps for air and as the humor died down. I kept my whisper at a very soft level. “Norris didn’t really seem to care, did he. More like worry and not really guilt. Did you notice that?”

  With the hearing of an owl, Grandma leaned over Grandpa’s lap and tapped my forearm. “His hands were clammy and he shook like a three-year-old girl.” The look on her face said what I was thinking. That was enough to make anyone suspicious.

  13

  I shifted into second and Mom gripped the soft edge of her seat. “Um, do you need to go so fast? It’s a thirty-five.” She stared with trepidation out the windshield.

  Adjusting my sunglasses, I side-smiled at her. “I’m going thirty-eight. It’s not that fast. It only feels fast because I keep dodging around people.” Driving in Spokane was one huge stressor after another. I had to keep it interesting. Plus, there were a lot of out-of-state move-ins and they didn’t know what to do when the rain hit (let alone snow, oy). So, you maneuvered around them.

  “Are you sure you want to follow Norris all the way to his house? What if he’s the killer and he…” Mom stopped talking when I sped through a yellow light. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  I sighed. I had the same worry, but I didn’t want to voice them out loud. Plus, if I admitted that I’d felt the same way, Mom might tell Aaron I went into a dangerous situation fully knowing what I was doing. He wouldn’t be happy. I shook my head. “Norris is not going to kill us. We aren’t going to go into his house or anything. I just want to see what he’s doing.” I shifted again, glancing in the rearview mirror, not taking my eyes off Norris’s black Volvo for too long. He seemed to be a more erratic driver than I was which would worry me, if I had the kids in the car.

  When it was just me, I tended to feel like I was sixteen again and not obsessed with food, just boys and driving.

  “What has us convinced it’s Norris?” Mom had a serious streak of doubt. She wasn’t even sure Debra had been killed. As long as I didn’t push the fact that I’d gotten the information from Nikki, Mom might continue to consider the possibility. Over-mentioning Nikki would kill the entire operation (I watched Mission Impossible again the night before – I could pretend I was in the middle of a mission, if I wanted to) Mom wouldn’t want to help anymore, if she had any idea we were helping Kiki’s daughter.

  I hedged around the topic, focusing on not mentioning Nikki or her arsenic suspicions. “Well, Norris had the most opportunity and best access to poison his wife, I mean, assuming the arsenic suspicion is even close to possible… um, he would have short-term and long-term access, right?” I cleared my throat, avoiding her eyes as I watched his car driving in front of me. “He didn’t seem like he was grieving at the funeral. He seemed… guiltier than anything. He was too calm. He didn’t even cry.” I couldn’t explain it. Something was off about him and it wasn’t just his political aspirations or his weird hair style.

  “That’s it?” Mom turned toward me, her eyes wide.

  “That’s good enough for me. Aaron would be distraught. There was just something unnatural in the way he looked and the way he acted. I just…” I shook my head and kept my eyes on the road. “It doesn’t hurt to check him out.” Wasn’t that enough? We had less to go on with Don, but we’d still asked him.

  We sat in silence the last few blocks to the Stockton household. I slowed down to let Norris’s car get ahead. Then he parked in front of a Tudor-style home with periwinkle blue shutters and magenta trim to accent a white base. The grass was neatly maintained with rhododendrons and ferns lining the beds on the edges of th
e lawn. Rhododendrons were a huge no-no in the Fleming family. If you grew Rhodos, you were spitting in the face of tradition.

  A rock path led from the driveway to the front porch. A picturesque setting of a pair of Adirondack rocking chairs with a small table between them set in front of a large bay-style window.

  Mom and I parked on the side of the road up from the house about two-yard lengths and hunkered down in the car. I glanced at her and grinned, then started laughing.

  She furrowed her brow. “What’s so funny?” Hunched over with the seatbelt digging into her shoulder and across her chest, she looked less than comfortable.

  “Us. Like it isn’t suspicious that we’re out here. We’re not going to find anything sitting here.” I looked back out the windshield toward Norris’s car and squinted, leaning closer to the steering wheel. “Wait, he hasn’t gotten out of the car. Is he okay?” Was it possible he’d been poisoned, too, and was sitting in his car with throw-up down his shirt?

  Anxiety curled into a knot in my chest. I didn’t want to go up and discover him dead as well. His wife was bad enough. I’d have to tell the police why I was there. I’d be a suspect. And I should be! Why in the heckleberries was I following a dead woman’s husband? What was I trying to prove?

  The police ruled it an accident. That should be good enough. My breathing thinned out and I tucked my fingers under my thighs and clenched my nails into the backs of my legs. I didn’t want to be there all of a sudden. I wanted to leave, escape, run away.

  But I was stuck. I’d convinced my mom to come out there and do this. I didn’t even know what this was. I had no idea what I was doing and I desperately wished I could go back in time and change our minds. I swallowed, waiting and watching the black car.

  The man’s tall silhouette had been easy to follow and observe in the car the whole way from the funeral home. He hadn’t even stayed for Debra to be buried in the plot he’d bought for her. He’d seemed to leave the socializing to his mother who had seemed more bereft as time had passed.