Poison Me

by Checketts, Cami

  He pushed his cart away before Jake could respond. Jake stood watching the tall man and wondering about the mystery with Grandma Ruby that Michael was obviously hiding. It might be time to talk to Ellie.

  Chapter Nine

  Everything hurt. Richard took slow, shallow breaths, but it didn’t help. Would anything ease this pain? He pressed a hand to the tenderness in his abdomen and bit back a cry. Would he survive the night? He exhaled and the ache increased. Did he want to survive?

  “Richard?” A high-pitched voice floated through the darkness, the result of eyesight gradually fading into a constant haze. How he longed for the penetration of light and clarity into his brain.

  “Who’s there?” he asked, reaching out to the voice with a gnarled hand. It wasn’t his cousin, Ruby, the only woman who ever visited him. Ruby always smelled like lavender and vanilla. This woman smelled like a variety of fresh-cut flowers, but he couldn’t tell if she’d actually brought him flowers or if it was just her perfume. “What do you want?”

  “It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m here to help.”

  He didn’t know who “me” was, but if someone had come to help, he’d praise her name. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

  “I don’t know if anyone can help me.” Richard’s hand dropped to the fleece blanket covering his lower body. He rubbed at the never-ending ache in his bony knuckles. “I’m past help.”

  “Oh, Richard,” the voice was sweet, almost too sweet to be real. He pictured her as a breathtaking blonde. A natural blonde. It had been years since he’d seen one of those. It’d been years since he’d seen any woman.

  “Nobody is past help,” she said. “I’m here to take away your pain and make you into a new man.”

  He grunted. “Right. How are you going to make this” —he gestured to himself, unable to straighten his fingers completely— “into a new man?”

  “Drink this quickly and I promise you’ll feel better.”

  A cool glass materialized next to his quivering lips. He sniffed. The potion reeked like some kind of nasty medicine. Nudging the glass away from his mouth, he said, “How is that crap going to help me?”

  The voice came soft and soothing this time. “This miracle drink is going to take away all your pain.” There was a pause and then a tinkling laugh. “I promise.”

  Richard yearned to see past the cloud that encircled him, but there was no hope for that—life had been cloudy for too many years. He bit back a curse, wishing he knew who belonged to the voice and the small hand holding the glass. “Who are you? I recognize your voice.”

  “I’m just a friend,” she said.

  The cup tipped and Richard forced his mouth to open. The woman promised it would help. Anything was worth a try. Lukewarm, foul-tasting liquid gushed down his throat. He choked. The potion kept coming. It tasted like regurgitated vomit. He tried to spit, but the stream of fluid choked him.

  He couldn’t get enough air. He tried to cry out, but no sound escaped. The woman pressed his head into the chair and squeezed his nostrils with an iron grip. He had to swallow the disgusting liquid or suffocate. She murmured comforting words with her sugary voice the entire time she attempted to drown him.

  Richard pushed his head forward to try to dislodge her hand. A large stone on her ring finger dug into his forehead. A few ounces of the drink spilled down his chin. Sticky and warm, it gnawed at the skin of his face, searing his flesh almost as deeply as his throat.

  The woman cursed and shoved him back into the chair with her forearm. She dumped the remaining contents of the cup into his mouth. He felt the acidic fluid burning his esophagus.

  Finally, the liquid stopped flowing. The woman tucked his fleece blanket around him. His vision darkened until the cloud was a thunderstorm. His throat was coated with the aftertaste of the bitter liquid. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath.

  “W–what?” he sputtered. “What was that crap?” He coughed and spit.

  The woman wiped his face with a cool cloth. “Don’t worry. I know it tastes bad, but it will help, I promise. Drink some water to clear your mouth.”

  He swallowed several gulps of water, but the pain didn’t lesson. He hacked and doubled over. He couldn’t catch a full breath, couldn’t stop coughing. “This is supposed to make me feel better?” He managed to say between gulps of air.

  “Try and rest,” the soothing voice said. “In the morning everything will be better.”

  “More water,” he sputtered.

  The woman lifted his water glass to his chin. He choked on the cool liquid and pushed her away. She set the glass on the table and disappeared like a wraith. Richard’s throat grew more parched. He reached for the glass again, but grasped a letter from today’s mail. Swallowing against the pain, he prayed for relief. The room grew blacker by the second. Now everything hurt. He called out. Nobody answered.

  He fumbled for the call button, but couldn’t locate it in the darkness. The glass of water knocked over onto his lap, soaking him. He cursed. Another coughing fit struck him. This time he tasted blood.

  Richard’s fingers skimmed the wall. He couldn’t reach the pull cord. His hand dropped. He closed his eyes against the pain. He wanted to fight the darkness, stop the pain, but he couldn’t. He was helpless. He couldn’t even cry for help again.

  ***

  In her left hand, Ruby carried an arrangement of fresh flowers she’d picked from one of Michael’s flowerbeds. Technically, they weren’t Michael’s flower beds, but she always thought of them that way, and he never turned her in when he was working the soil and caught her snitching. Earlier today, when she carefully chose her bouquet, she knew he was watching from a respectable distance. She’d bent forward as far as she could without toppling, displaying her positive attributes to their full advantage.

  She sighed at her immature longings. If only she could tell Michael how she really felt. But the secrets were buried too deep, and her love for Michael was one more sacrifice to the tangle of lies that made up her life.

  The fingertips of her right hand trailed along the smooth wall of the hallway, dipping every now and then to avoid the expensive artwork displayed at perfectly measured intervals. A few more steps and she’d reach her cousin Richard’s door. She smiled. He’d love these flowers. His vision was nearly gone, but his sense of smell was strong. This bouquet of roses, spearmint, and lilacs should perk him up.

  She raised her hand to knock, but the door swung open. She squinted into the dusky room and came face to face with the tall hero of her fantasies. “Michael?”

  He blinked at her, not answering. He turned to stare at something in Richard’s apartment, then pivoted back to face her, his eyes solemn.

  “Oh, Rubes. Not you. Not now.” Michael shut the door to Richard’s room, then grabbed Ruby’s shoulders and steered her away.

  “What are you doing? What do you mean ‘not you’?”

  Michael blew out a long breath. “You are not going in there.” He inclined his head towards Richard’s door.

  “What? Why not?” She planted her heels in the thick carpet, trying to stop Michael from dragging her farther down the hall. “I’ve brought Richard some flowers I picked earlier today. This is the first chance I’ve had to visit. Richard will love—”

  Michael spun to face her and grabbed both of her elbows. “Ruby, Richard is dead.”

  She froze, praying she’d heard wrong. “What did you just say?”

  Michael sighed. “It’s true, Rubes. He’s gone.”

  Ruby broke from his hold and rushed toward Richard’s door. The flowers slipped from her hand onto the dark pink carpet, and the vase bounced but didn’t break. Michael caught her from behind before she reached the door handle. He grabbed her by the waist and turned her to face him.

  “Let me go!” Ruby felt tears threatening.

  “No way. You aren’t going to see him like that.” The anguish in Michael’s gaze burned through her.

  “I am going to
see him. He’s my cousin.”

  “I know that. That’s why you’re staying here with me.” Michael wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

  “Let me go.” Ruby pounded against his grip. “I don’t want you around. I don’t need you.”

  He grunted. “Too bad, because you’re staying with me.”

  “Let me go this instant.” Her demand sounded weak even to her ears.

  Michael tightened his hold. “No.”

  Finally, Ruby gave in and leaned into him, drawing from his comfort and strength. She did need him.

  Her mind raced with questions. What had happened to Richard? Had he died a natural death, or had he been murdered too? Who would want to hurt such a kind, frail man? How could something like this happen? Who would be next?

  Michael rocked her like a small child. “I’m sorry, Rubes.”

  She sighed and burrowed deeper into his chest. He smelled of the warm earth and happier days. “I’m sorry too,” she said. “I know he was a good friend of yours.”

  Michael nodded against the top of her head. “Since grade school.” Long seconds ticked by. Then he cleared his throat and said, “I know he was miserable these past few days, but I didn’t think he was that sick.”

  Ruby’s head snapped up. “So you believe me? You believe someone is killing our friends too?”

  Michael sighed and held her at arm’s length. “No, Ruby. No one is killing our friends. I think Richard was old.”

  Her heart sank. Why wouldn’t anyone believe her? “You sound just like that cocky police officer, thinking old people deserve to die.”

  “You know me better than that.” Michael forced her to look at him. “It was Richard’s time. Think how much better he feels now.”

  Ruby sighed. “I guess you’re right. So you’ve called the police?”

  Michael nodded.

  She wrapped her fingers around his forearm. “Please let me see him. Before they come to examine him, let me see if he looks like Anne did.”

  Michael studied her for several seconds. She was tempted to look away, but held her ground. Finally, he exhaled and took her hand, then swung the door open and led her inside the apartment. When he flipped on the light, Ruby gasped. She walked to her cousin’s side. Richard’s head lolled, his eyes bulged, and blood vessels had burst under his parchment-thin skin. His body was slumped like he’d lost the struggle against a great force.

  She shuddered and looked away. Michael still held her hand in his grasp. His blue eyes were soft with compassion.

  “I wish you hadn’t seen him like this.”

  Ruby shook her head and turned her gaze back to Richard. Forcing herself to look for clues, she searched his face and body more carefully. Her eyes narrowed. His white undershirt was discolored like he’d spilled a drink on himself. She leaned closer and touched the shirt. It was still damp. “Why is his shirt wet?”

  Michael shrugged. “Maybe he had a drink of water and it ran down his neck.”

  “It’s not water. It isn’t clear.” She leaned closer, smelling the neck and shirt of her dead cousin. Richard was dead! She swallowed against the bile rising in her throat. No, if she wanted to figure out what was going on, she had to shut off her emotions and look at things objectively. Slowly, she inhaled the foul odor. It was familiar.

  “Ruby, stop it,” Michael said.

  She released Michael’s hand, licked her finger, and pressed it against the shirt and Richard’s neck. She licked the sticky substance from her fingertip, then spit. Her tongue burned. “Yuck. That’s not water.”

  Michael eyed her. “Maybe he spilled his medicine.”

  “That was the strangest taste. I wonder what kind of medicine he was taking.” She pointed to the end table, which was practically covered with pill bottles. “Do you see anything liquid?”

  Michael exhaled. “Stop it, Rubes. There isn’t some killer who is drugging our friends.”

  She glared at him. “How do you know? Anne clearly said, ‘She poisoned me.’ I wish I would’ve thought to check for the poison. I was so upset, and now I’ll never know if…”

  Tapping her chin, Ruby remembered that awful night. “Come to think of it, she did smell funny. I don’t think I could ever forget that smell.” She leaned closer to Richard again, trying to match the odors. Breathing deeply, she nodded, almost certain there were similarities between the smell of Richard’s neck and Anne’s foul breath.

  “Old people always smell funny,” Michael pointed out.

  “Shut up. You’re an old person.”

  He straightened his shoulders. “Am not.”

  She sighed. “Oh, my heavens, I don’t have the energy to argue with you.”

  The door burst open, and the same young policeman who had investigated Anne’s murder gently pushed Ruby out of the way. “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to write out a death report. We’ll take care of him now.”

  “Are you actually going to investigate the reason for death this time?” Ruby asked.

  Officer Steven Barnes turned to look at her. “Investigate?” He coughed, probably to cover a mocking laugh. “I think I can give you an accurate diagnosis—he was old.”

  Ruby gave Michael an “I told you so” look. He pressed his lips together and glanced away.

  Her eyes traveled over the withered body of her cousin. A wonderful life snuffed out, and this punk cop laughed about it. She stared at him with contempt. “This isn’t a nursing home. The residents here are healthy and not that old.”

  The officer’s eyebrows lifted. “This guy was healthy?”

  Ruby exhaled. “Well, Richard wasn’t healthy, but he wasn’t to the point of dying, either. Two deaths in less than a week at the same retirement community?” She sought for calm, when she ached to scream. “Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

  The young man nodded. “Uh-huh. Strange.” He looked at Michael and gestured with his head. “Can you take Mrs. Merrill back to her room, please? She seems upset.”

  Michael reached for her hand. Ruby jerked it away. “I am upset. I’ve lost a friend and a cousin in less than a week’s time, and you can’t even take a minute to see if there is anything suspicious about their deaths.”

  The policeman rolled his eyes. “Maybe you could inform me of the conclusions you’ve come to.”

  She ignored his sarcasm and plunged ahead. “Somebody poisoned them. Anne told me that somebody had poisoned her—a woman, she said. Her breath smelled awful, just like Richard’s neck. His neck and collar are sticky wet with some kind of substance. It’s not water. It smells and tastes horrible, and as you can see” —she pointed to the table next to Richard’s chair, carefully avoiding looking at her slain cousin— “he wasn’t taking any liquid medications.”

  The man stroked his chin. At least he appeared to be listening. “Maybe he keeps the liquid meds somewhere else.”

  “He hasn’t walked in months,” Ruby said. “If he took a liquid medication tonight, somebody else gave it to him. I would appreciate it if you would test what is on his neck and see if it matches any of the medications prescribed to him. I doubt it does.”

  The officer turned his back on her and leaned down to sniff Richard’s neck. “Thanks for your detective work, ma’am. I’ll look into it.”

  “Can you promise me that?”

  Officer Barnes glanced over his shoulder at her. “I promise you I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

  The mortician, Agatha Smelter, toddled into the room, clutching a bag of supplies. “Well, we’ve got another one.” She set the bag next to Richard’s chair, rubbed her plump hands together, and then pumped her eyebrows at Michael. “How are you, Michael?”

  “Not great.”

  She turned to Ruby. “I’m sorry you have to see another loved one like this.”

  Ruby folded her arms across her chest, not answering the sympathetic greeting. The mortician studied her, clearly waiting for a response, but eventually gave up.

  Officer Barnes glanced at Michael. “
Mr. Trapper, can you please take Mrs. Merrill back to her room? Mrs. Smelter and I have work to do.”

  Michael reached for her hand again. Ruby pulled it away. She looked at Richard one last time. She wanted to straighten his neck and beg him not to leave this earth, but there was nothing left for him here but more pain.

  “Do you want me to help you to your room?” Officer Barnes asked.

  Michael took a step closer to Ruby, his gaze full of safety, comfort, and something she needed even more.

  “I can find my own room.” Ruby stalked through the door and down the hallway, choking back a sob when she saw the overturned vase, scattered rose petals, and trampled lilacs littering the floor.

  Chapter Ten

  Jake opened the truck door for Ruby and helped her step down onto the sidewalk. She said nothing. Didn’t even smile. They hurried through the ninety-five-degree weather and into the solace of air-conditioning. The floral shop burst with roses, carnations, and baby’s breath. The smell knocked Jake back half a step. He steadied himself and sneezed.

  A thin redhead beamed behind the Flowers and Beyond counter. “Well, if it isn’t Ruby Merrill. Welcome, welcome. Two visits from you in one week? This is a marvelous day for me.”

  “Hello, Olivia,” Ruby said with a tired smile.

  “And you’ve brought your handsome grandson with you.” Olivia winked. “You’ve grown into yourself beautifully, Jake.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. It’s nice to see you, ma’am.”

  “Oh, none of this ma’am business.” She chuckled. “Good-looking boy calling me ma’am. The nerve.” She winked again before turning her attention back to Ruby. “I guess you’re here to pick out something nice for Richard’s funeral. Isn’t it a relief he’s gone? Poor man had to suffer and suffer.”

  Ruby’s grip on Jake’s forearm tightened. He grunted, but didn’t complain.

  Olivia motioned toward the ceiling. “He’s up there now enjoying his lovely wife.” She sighed. “What sweethearts those two were. The love just sparked out of ’em.” She extended her fingers quickly, making a popping noise with her tongue. “Sparked like electricity. Oh, what a happy ending—together again.”