Val would have contacted Chief Yardley immediately, but her phone was in her tote bag in the living room, and she had a problem to solve right here. She stared at the six remaining bonbons, wondering what to do with them. She didn’t want to touch the box or the candy in case they had fingerprints or DNA on them. But leaving them where they were now ran the risk that someone might eat them . . . with fatal consequences.
She went with the lesser of two evils. Last night she’d seen a box of disposable gloves under the sink. She put gloves on both hands and packed the gift bag and the box of chocolates in a paper grocery sack. Then she loaded the leftovers from the refrigerator into another sack and went back to the living room. The skin around Elaine’s eyes was splotchy.
Val sat down in the armchair again, putting the grocery sacks on the floor next to it. She felt sorry for Elaine, dealing with a parent’s death without support. “Will your sister be coming here to help you?”
Elaine tucked a wadded tissue into her jacket pocket. “Not ’til later in the week. Cyndi’s in Chicago until Wednesday for business meetings. She just started a new job and couldn’t cut short her trip. I told her I didn’t mind her not rushing back. There’s nothing she can do here anyway.”
She could have rushed home to comfort her sister. “What about your brother-in-law?”
“He teaches and doesn’t have spare time during the week.” Elaine reached into the leather purse next to her on the sofa and pulled out a checkbook. “What do I owe you?”
Val told her and then said, “Besides the leftovers, I packed the chocolates that were on the table. They’re homemade. Unless you know who made them, you wouldn’t want to take the chance of eating one.”
Elaine stared round-eyed at her. “My father ate those chocolates and then he died.” Her jaw clenched. “The police should test them instead of taking the doctor’s word for it that a heart ailment caused his death.”
“I agree. I can take the chocolates to the police chief, who’s a family friend. I can’t guarantee they’ll be tested, but I’ll do my best to convince him they should be.”
“Thank you.”
The chief would be more likely to order a test if Val could find a connection between Oliver’s death and Jake’s. If Jake had visited or lived in Bayport years ago, the two men might have met. Maybe Elaine had seen him with her father. “Franetta told me this house has been in your family for decades. Did you spend much time in Bayport?”
Elaine shook her head. “Cyndi and I came to see our grandparents here, but we were grown up by the time our parents inherited this house and moved in. We only ever made short visits.”
Val took her phone from her tote bag and brought up the photo of the younger Jake that she intended to show Holly Atherson. “My grandfather recently found a scrap of old newspaper with a photo, a man who looked familiar, but Granddad didn’t remember his name. It’s driving him crazy. He’s been showing the photo to people who’ve been in Bayport for a while. Do you recognize this man?”
Elaine glanced at the photo. “He doesn’t look familiar to me, but I’m not really good with faces.”
Disappointed, Val put away her phone. Was there anything else that might connect Jake’s death to Oliver’s besides a sweet gift delivered by someone unknown? Yes! It hit Val like an espresso jolt. One person with expertise in making sweets had been in the vicinity when both victims died—Franetta. But why would she poison either man?
A snippet of talk Val had heard last night echoed in her mind, a conversation Franetta had nipped in the bud by changing the topic. Maybe Elaine knew why. “Your father seemed like a good man, someone who helped his neighbors. While I was serving the appetizers, he said something about helping the Frosts’ son when he had a problem. Do you know how your father helped?”
Elaine frowned in concentration and then shook her head. “I don’t remember Dad or anyone else ever mentioning it. The Frosts’ son is easily fifteen years younger than me. By the time he was old enough to get in trouble, I was on my own, didn’t live with my parents, and came to Bayport only occasionally.” Elaine tore off a check, stood up, and handed it to Val. “Thank you for catering. My father enjoyed his birthday dinner, his last meal.”
Except for a breakfast of coffee, chocolates, and maybe poison.
Chapter 10
As Val left the Naiman house, she noticed a large, brown dog tugging a small woman. They were half a block away, coming in her direction. By the time Val had stowed the leftovers in her car, the chocolate Labrador retriever was trotting toward her at the end of a long leash.
She recognized the Lab, but the leash-holder wasn’t the same woman Val had last seen with that dog. The woman’s face was hidden inside the fur-trimmed hood of her white parka.
Val bent down to pet the Lab. “Hi, Gretel.” The dog’s tail wagged furiously.
“You two are old friends?” the woman said.
Val looked up to see Holly Atherson peering at her from under the parka’s hood. “Yes. I got to know Gretel through the house sitter who was taking care of her and the house. Are you Gretel’s owner?”
“No, Gretel’s my owner.” Holly gave the dog a pat. As Gretel sniffed the bushes along the sidewalk, Holly glanced at the Naiman house. “I heard that Oliver passed away and that you’d catered a dinner at his house last night.”
Val gnashed her teeth. Putting the two facts in the same sentence suggested they were related. If Franetta had linked the dinner and the death when telling her neighbors the news, Val had better set the record straight. “He died after breakfast today.”
“I walk Gretel around seven in the morning. We’d often see Oliver go out on his porch to check the weather and pick up the newspaper.”
Val was familiar with that routine. “My grandfather does the same thing every morning.”
“I didn’t see Oliver today.”
“It was frigid this morning. Was anyone beside you outside that early?” Val was proud of how she’d slipped this key question into the conversation.
“Not a creature was stirring, aside from us. I stopped by an hour ago to tell Elaine how sorry I was about her father. She didn’t want to talk about how he died.” Holly fixed Val with an intent stare. “Please tell me it was a natural death.”
Val wished she could. “I heard that was the doctor’s opinion.”
“But maybe not Elaine’s or yours. Franetta told me you’ve looked into some deaths that weren’t what they first seemed. She also said you’re tight with the local police.” The dog strained against her leash, ready to move on. “Gretel wants to go home, and I’m freezing out here. We’d be a lot warmer talking inside my house. I have some questions for you.”
“And I have some for you.”
Holly gave in to the dog’s tugging. “Which of my house sitters introduced you to Gretel?”
Val walked fast to keep up with her and the dog. “The young man who was there in April.”
“He didn’t keep the place as clean as other sitters I’ve had, but Gretel liked him right away. She usually takes more time to warm up to house sitters.”
“You employ a lot of sitters?”
“We moved here four years ago after my husband retired from a medical practice in West Virginia. He didn’t stay retired for long. He took a job as a cruise ship doctor.”
“Wow. An ideal job for someone who likes travel.”
“We both do. He’s on a ship for four months and comes home for two months. I can travel with him for free. I don’t stay away longer than a month at a stretch before coming home to Gretel. My husband’s four-month stint will be over next week, when the ship docks in Australia. He plans it so he’s always home for the winter holidays and the grandkids’ summer vacation.”
Gretel led the way up the path to the house where she lived. When Holly opened the door, the dog shot inside.
Holly hung her parka on a hook in the front hall, blew on her hands, and rubbed them together. “I’m ready for a cup of hot chocolate. Would you
like one?”
“Yes, please.”
“I made some from scratch this morning. I’ll heat it up. Hang up your jacket and sit down in the living room or, if you prefer, join me in the kitchen.” Holly pointed toward the back of the house.
As Val walked through the living room toward the kitchen, she lingered for a moment by the built-in shelves with photos and books. A large studio portrait showed Holly in the center, flanked by what must be her family—husband, children, and grandchildren.
Val surveyed the titles shelved with the photos. If Holly had any paperbacks, they weren’t on display in the living room. Oversize books with photographs of exotic places and thick biographies of historical figures took up most of the space. One shelf held science, medical, and pharmacy textbooks and two reference books on poisons. Considering that Holly had worked at a poison control center, it made sense that she’d own such books, but Val was surprised they were so near at hand.
She went into the spacious kitchen. Shiny pots and pans hung over the granite cooking island. All the appliances gleamed. “Did you add on to the house to make this room?”
“The previous owner did.” Holly stirred a saucepan containing a rich brown liquid. “The fancy equipment in this kitchen is overkill for my cooking needs. The microwave is my appliance of choice, especially when I’m just cooking for one, and except when I make hot chocolate. Have a seat.” She cocked her head toward the table.
Gretel had already settled down in the corner.
Val sat down and looked out the bay window at the river behind the house. “Nice view.” Not as nice as it would be if the sun were shining. The river usually meandered calmly along, but today the wind made the water choppy and the clouds turned it a dull gray. The view matched Val’s mood after the last few days.
Holly poured the hot chocolate into two mugs, brought them to the table, and sat down across from Val. “What have you found out about Jake’s death?”
Val had expected small talk before the interrogation, but Holly hadn’t wasted any time. The chief would soon announce Jake’s death by poison, but telling her now might make her more willing to answer Val’s questions. “Jake was poisoned. I assume you can make an educated guess what the poison was, based on his symptoms and your professional knowledge.” Val fingered the handle of her mug. She wouldn’t drink the chocolate until Holly did.
“You’ve looked into my background. I won’t pretend to be ignorant. Jake’s symptoms were consistent with cyanide poisoning. Only an autopsy will tell you that for sure.”
“What did you mean yesterday when you said you smelled death?”
“I meant I knew he would die, and soon.” Holly wrapped her hands around her mug. “Hospitals have cyanide antidote kits. They generally sit there unused until their expiration date because so few cyanide victims make it to the hospital in time. After Jake’s breathing slowed and became more shallow, I doubted he would make it, though I hoped he would.”
Was that hope for a man she’d just met or one she’d known longer than that? “I’d like to show you a picture.” Val took her phone from her bag and pulled up the photo of a younger Jake Smith. “Do you recognize this man as someone you used to know?”
Holly studied the picture, her face betraying nothing. “Where did you get this?”
“From a newspaper clipping.” Like Holly, Val saw no reason to pretend ignorance. “The caption identified the man as J. J. Smith. John Jacob Smith. I think you knew him as Jack Smith.”
“How did you figure that out?” Holly’s tone indicated curiosity, not concern.
“You called him Jack when you were trying to shake him awake. And you rushed to help him before anyone else did.” No comment from Holly, so Val continued. “You must have known him well at one time. How long ago was that?”
“Thirty years.” Holly hadn’t paused to calculate the number of years, suggesting it was in the forefront of her mind. “I expected him to cross my path again someday, but not at a tea party where everyone was in costume.”
Hard to believe they hadn’t previously encountered each other in a small town like Bayport. Val tried not to show her skepticism. “He moved here six months ago. I’m surprised you didn’t run into him sooner.” Even with a heavy cruising schedule.
“If I’d bumped into him on the street, I wouldn’t have known him. Even when I sat next to him Saturday night, I didn’t recognize him at first because of the beard. His name made me look more closely at him. His face was fuller, but he had the same ice-blue eyes and high cheekbones I remembered. And the Santa suit brought back memories.”
Val tried to make sense of Holly’s last comment. “He played Santa when he was younger?”
“Exactly. The first time I laid eyes on him. I was in college, volunteering at a homeless shelter. He was visiting the shelter dressed as Santa, wearing a fake beard, a wig, and a lot of padding. He’d bought small gifts for the children at a discount store, wrapped them, and handed them out. He made their day, and I think they made his.”
That didn’t fit with the image Val had formed of the man. He must have had a soft spot for children. “Did he grow up in a large family?”
Holly shook her head. “He was an only child. His father belittled everyone around him, including his wife and son. The father was like Scrooge—ruthless in business, never happy unless he was getting the better of people. He expected his son to act the same way. Jake had a better role model in his uncle, who played Santa when the extended family got together for the holidays. The uncle died in an accident the year before I met Jake. He told me he’d vowed to play Santa one day each year in memory of his uncle.”
Fast forward to this year, when Jake had elbowed out Granddad as Santa, channeling both his father and his uncle. “From what I heard about Jake’s business dealings, he became more like his father.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. When I knew him, he was driven to make money, but not at the expense of others. He had a quirky sense of humor, coming up with puns that made everyone groan.”
“Do you think Jake recognized you at the tea?”
“Unlikely. My hair used to be long and dark.” Holly fingered her frosted, pixie-cut hair. “My name was different too. He knew me as Holiday Brooks.”
Her first name was even more unusual than Val’s. “My parents called me Valentine because I was born on February 14. Like you, I went with a nickname. Which holiday were you born on?”
“My birthday had nothing to do with it. Holiday was my grandmother’s maiden name. I thought it was cool. It set me apart from all the Jennifers and Amys I went to school with. But it was too breezy a name for a professional woman.”
“Most people enjoy catching up with someone they knew decades ago. Why didn’t you tell Jake who you were?”
“I intended to, but not with an audience. Jake’s sneezing gave me an excuse to move my chair away from him and turn my face in the other direction. Dressed the way I was, if I’d identified myself to him, he’d have drawn the wrong conclusion.”
The wrong conclusion because she’d worn a bridal outfit? Maybe she’d wanted to get married three decades ago and Jake hadn’t. “You two were seeing each other years ago?”
“We were engaged.” Holly took a few sips of hot chocolate slowly and then thumped down her mug on the table as if finalizing a decision. “You have a reputation for unearthing facts, so I’ll save you the trouble of digging for them. Jake didn’t show up for our wedding.”
Val gasped. “Like Miss Havisham’s fiancé.” Had Holly responded the same way as her literary counterpart, dwelling for years on her aborted wedding and her fiancé’s villainy?
“Jake wasn’t as ruthless as Miss Havisham’s fiancé. He just got cold feet. It was all for the best, though I didn’t think so at the time. It took me a while to trust any man after that.”
“Understandable.” Val’s ex-fiancé had merely cheated on her, not left her at the altar, and after two years she still had scars that made her leery of commitment
s. Holly had made a commitment, marrying another man. Yet she’d dressed as Miss Havisham. Did she still think of herself as a scorned woman? “Why did you choose to be Miss Havisham for the Dickens festival?”
“I was late to the festival volunteer meeting, and Miss Havisham was one of the few remaining roles. I had a white gown from a charity ball we’d attended a few years back. It was easy to add a few touches and make it look like a wedding gown.”
“So it was a practical decision, saving you the time and expense of a costume.” Val wasn’t surprised that Holly had a white gown in her closet. She also had a white parka hanging in the hall. She was in a white dress in the family portrait. No, she wasn’t exactly like the Dickens character, who’d worn bridal attire for the rest of her life, but Holly certainly gravitated toward white.
She leaned across the table toward Val. “Miss Havisham was warped by being jilted. I’m not. Jake did me a favor, and I waited years for the chance to tell him that. I was going to thank him for standing me up. I was going to show him pictures of my wonderful husband, my three beautiful children, and my darling grandchildren.” Holly looked annoyed. “Whoever killed him robbed me of that pleasure.”
Val realized now why Holly had talked so freely about her relationship with Jake. With his life under scrutiny after his suspicious death, her past with him was bound to come out. So she’d put her own slant on it, stressing that she bore him no ill will and even wanted him alive. While Val had been digging for information here, Holly had been planting it.
As they finished their hot chocolates, Val asked about Holly’s children and grandchildren, a subject on which Holly had a lot to say.
When she collected the empty mugs, Val took the hint and stood up. “Thank you for inviting me in for the chocolate and the chat.”
Holly walked her to the door. “You wondered if I’d seen anyone near Oliver’s house this morning.”
Val perked up. Was she about to get new information, a takeaway gift from Holly? “You did see someone there?”
“Not someone, but something in front of Oliver’s door—a gift bag.”
Gingerdead Man Page 9
