Previous Confections

by Ruth Hartzler

  I stepped outside into the rain. “I didn’t know it was raining,” I said. “Where did that come from?”

  “The sky, of course,” Eleanor said with a chuckle. “Don’t just stand there, or you’ll get wet. Come on, there’s no time to lose. Rebecca will be cross if you don’t open the store in time.”

  Soon we were on our way to Wanda Hershberger’s house. Despite Matilda’s protest, this time I was driving. “We’ll get there much faster if I drive,” Matilda said.

  “Yes, I’m sure we would,” I said with a shudder. “Still, my nerves will remain intact if I drive.”

  I hoped Wanda wouldn’t mind us turning up on her doorstep unannounced, but then again, it was the Amish way to visit with neighbors unannounced. People often called by unexpectedly at dinnertime for a meal. That’s just the way it was in the community.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hershberger,” I said when she opened the door.

  “Come inside for some scrapple and kaffi soup,” she said. “And don’t forget to call me Wanda.”

  I followed the delicious scent of good Amish coffee.

  “You got my message then?” Wanda said, before indicating we should sit in the kitchen.

  “Yes, we did,” I said. Despite my lack of interest in helping my ex-husband, I had to admit curiosity had gotten the better of me. I was intrigued to hear the information.

  Wanda hurried around serving everyone. I loved the pork trimmings and the flavors of thyme and sage. Maybe I should change my habits and make scrapple at home instead of having coffee for breakfast every morning.

  “How is your schweschder?” Wanda asked me.

  “Gut, denki,” I said. “Rebecca said the break was clean, and she’s not in any pain.”

  She nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

  “Surely they haven’t got the results on the poison back yet?” Matilda asked Wanda.

  Wanda wrapped both her hands around her coffee mug. “Nee, they haven’t, but I have an interesting piece of information for you.”

  We all looked at her expectantly, and she pushed on. “A vial of poison was found in the waiter’s pocket.”

  A collective gasp went up around the table. “You’re kidding!” I said. “Have the police arrested him?”

  Wanda shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe they have, and maybe they haven’t. All I know is, the police told the medical examiner’s office to test for the poison in the vial found in one of the suspect’s pockets. The medical examiner told my daughter it was the waiter.”

  “And what poison was it?” I asked her.

  “Oh dear, I’ve forgotten.” Wanda scratched ahead. “Waneta did write it out for you. I’ll just go and fetch the piece of paper now. I left it under my Bible. It was something to do with botulism.”

  “Aha!” Matilda said. She exchanged glances with Eleanor.

  Wanda presently returned with a piece of paper which she handed to me. I looked at it, and handed it to Matilda. “Do you know what this is?”

  Matilda nodded and in turn handed the piece of paper to Eleanor who gasped.

  “Clostridium botulinum. I was telling Jane about it earlier,” Matilda told Wanda. “Botulinum neurotoxin is one of the most deadly poisons known,” she continued. “Less than a teaspoon would kill the entire population of the world.”

  “So it must be a fast acting poison them,” I said.

  “Not necessarily,” Matilda said, “it would depend on the dose. If a large amount was injected into the vic or tipped into his champagne, then of course it would kill him quickly. That’s why no symptoms were apparent—they didn’t have time to appear.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it,” I said.

  “But you have heard of botulism?”

  I nodded, and Wanda said, “Botulism? Like in canned food that has gone bad?”

  It was Eleanor who spoke. “Exactly. Botulism is deadly and boiling won’t kill it. It takes a much higher temperature than boiling water to kill botulism. As you know, Wanda, if preserving fruit is not done correctly, it can cause botulism.”

  Wanda nodded slowly. “Yes, I do know that. I think everyone who preserves is aware of the danger of botulism.”

  “And there’s wound botulism too,” Matilda said. “And you all probably know that infants under one year old are not supposed to have honey because honey can contain a small amount of botulism, just enough to harm a young child.”

  “I didn’t know that,” I said. “But if it’s so deadly, how would someone procure it?”

  “Oh, it’s available everywhere,” Matilda said with a wave of her hand. Once more, I was shocked. “Have you ever heard of Botox?” she asked me.

  “Of course I have,” I said. “Don’t tell me Botox and botulism are related?”

  “Yes, but Botox does not contain the bacteria. When someone injects someone with Botox, they’re actually injecting a tiny amount of the deadly neurotoxin made from clostridium botulinum. Botox is freely available.”

  I thought that over. “Let me see. Who would have access to Botox — perhaps plastic surgeons, and beauticians?”

  “Botox has medical applications as well,” Matilda told me. “So, doctors or nurses would have access to it as well. In fact, when we get home I’ll have Eleanor check the laptop and see if it’s available without a prescription.”

  “Surely not,” I said. To Wanda, I said, “Did Waneta say anything else?”

  She shook her head. “Only that they did test for whatever was in that vial. She also said they’re doing the usual tox screenings in case the botulism was a red herring to try to throw them off the track.”

  “Does, the medical examiner think that’s likely?” I asked her.

  She shook her head. “Nee, my daughter said they think the stuff in the vial poisoned him. Would you like some kaffi soup?” Without waiting for me to answer, she broke some pieces of bread into a bowl then poured milk and coffee in it, followed by a slathering of sugar.

  “Not for me thanks,” I said, “but if you don’t mind I’ll help myself to some coffee.”

  When I sat back down with my coffee, Matilda said, “I find it hard to believe that the waiter did it. Surely he would offload the vial of Botox or whatever form of clostridium botulinum it was before the police searched him. Did the police search you, Jane?”

  I shook my head. “No, but they did look in my purse. They searched Ted and the vic’s wife.” I sighed. Now I was taking to calling victims ‘the vic,’ following Matilda’s example. “And they searched the purses of everyone at the table,” I added.

  Wanda looked up from her kaffi soup. “Yes, surely the murderer would have gotten rid of the evidence first.”

  “Then that means someone was trying to frame the waiter. So why is someone trying to frame Ted too?” I tapped my head. “Aha! You know, just before Mr. Matheson died, there was a big commotion that distracted us all. Someone knocked into the waiter and ran away. I thought at the time it was very strange because he didn’t apologize or even look back. He just took off.”

  “Could he possibly have slipped the vial into the waiter’s coat pocket that time?” Matilda asked me.

  “Yes, quite possibly,” I said. “You know, when Detective McCloud questioned me yesterday, he asked me if I saw anyone close to the waiter after Mr. Matheson died.”

  “And did you see anyone?” Eleanor asked me.

  “You know it sounds bad, but I really can’t remember. The waiter did comfort both the women at the time, Mr. Matheson’s wife and their business partner, Candace. I noticed both of them were close to the waiter at different times.

  “Who are the other suspects again?” Matilda asked me.

  “Ted, Cherri, the waiter, the chef, Mrs. Matheson, Candace and her husband were all present.”

  “Were they ever close to the waiter?” Matilda asked me.

  “I saw the chef patting his back, and I notice Candace’s husband, Rick, bumping into him later and apologizing.”

  “Did you tell Detective
McCloud that?” Eleanor asked me.

  My hand flew to my throat. “No, because I was only thinking of the time that Mr. Matheson died. I wasn’t thinking of anything that happened after the police came.”

  Matilda waved her finger at me. “Well, I suggest you call Detective McCloud and tell him that.” She sighed. “So to recap, the suspects are the people who were present, your ex-husband and his wife, the vic’s wife, the vic’s two business partners, the chef, and the waiter, although of all those people I suspect the waiter the least.”

  “Did you see Ted or Cherri close to the waiter?” Eleanor asked me.

  “As a matter of fact, yes,” I said. “It’s all coming back to me now. Cherri felt faint. The waiter was fussing over her, and then Ted walked over to thank the waiter for his help. They were close enough that Ted could have slipped something into his pocket.”

  “Could Cherri have slipped something into the waiter’s pocket?” Matilda asked me.

  “Sure she could have,” I said, “but if Cherri is the murderer, then why would she come and ask for my help?”

  “Why indeed?” Matilda said, exchanging glances with her sister.

  Chapter 8

  Thankfully, we made it back in time to open the store. I even had time to change into the clothes I wore for work. Eleanor decided to spend some time with Mr. Crumbles, while Matilda accompanied me downstairs into the shop.

  As we set out the cupcakes in the display cabinet, I said to Matilda, “Please don’t tell me one more symptom of botulinum poisoning. I think I’ll faint if I hear any more.”

  She chuckled. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  I grimaced. “Yes, I’m sure. You know, I feel quite muddleheaded about this. I know we found out what the poison is and everything, but I just don’t feel I am thinking straight about this murder, not like the last one.”

  “Last time you were a suspect,” Matilda said, “and this time it’s your ex-husband who is a suspect. I’m sure you don’t have the best of feelings toward him, so it would be clouding your judgement.”

  I imagined Ted in prison for years. I imagined him in a small exercise yard and then locked up in solitary confinement. I gave a half-hearted smile as I arranged some popping candy cupcakes on a tray. As I set out the plate of sample cupcakes, I said, “This reminds me of when Colin Greaves was murdered after he ate one of these cupcakes.”

  “But the poison had nothing to do with the cupcakes,” Matilda reminded me. “It happened well before that.”

  I waved one hand in the air. “Sure, I know that. It’s just that it reminded me, that’s all. I suppose we should make a methodical plan and go through the suspects one by one.”

  “Let’s do that after work today,” Matilda said. “We can do it while we’re baking the cakes.”

  “I was hoping to bake plenty of cupcakes in the downtime today,” I told her, “but either way, it will be good to make a list of suspects tonight.”

  Matilda readily agreed. “And we can go through them one by one. You know, it would be a good idea if maybe we could first focus our efforts on how someone could possibly obtain Botox. Would you happen to know if Cherri is a nursing student? Or rather if she was before she married Ted?”

  I shrugged. “She was a college student. I have no idea what classes she took.”

  “What about the vic’s wife or his business partners? Maybe the waiter or the chef are former nurses? Maybe one of them has a relative who works in a hospital.” Matilda had a faraway look in her eyes. Suddenly, she exclaimed, “I know! Be right back.” Before I could do a double take, she had disappeared out the door.

  I had only just finished setting out all the cupcakes and flipped the sign on the door to Open when Matilda hurried through the door. “Honestly, my sister can be so irritating at times.” Her expression was grumpy.

  “Why, what did she do now?” I asked her.

  “It seems her little cat enjoys swinging on that pole,” she said. “Rather, I’m sure he doesn’t enjoy it, but she gives him so many treats when he lands that all he wants to do is go up on the pole.”

  I scratched my head. “You know, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen for myself.”

  Matilda shook her finger at me. “And that’s not all! Did you know he flew off again and narrowly missed my head? He missed me by this much.” She held her thumb and forefinger apart about an inch. “He went flying past my head. I’m sure he did it deliberately. And when I told that sister of mine that she can’t keep picking him up and putting him on the pole, she said the most ridiculous thing. Would you like to guess what she said?”

  I shook my head. “Not really.”

  Undaunted, Matilda pressed on. “She said she would put his cat activity tree next to it so he could reach the top of the pole by himself. Have you ever heard such a silly thing?”

  I tried to picture it. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea,” I said.

  Matilda shook her head in disgust. “I agree. Anyway, back to our murder investigation.”

  The door opened at that point and a deep male voice said, “Did you just say your murder investigation?”

  Matilda flushed beet red, as did I looking at Detective McCloud, although I knew we had different reasons. “Oh, did I say that?” she sputtered. “I met your investigation of course.”

  Detective McCloud crossed his arms over his chest. “I hope you’re not thinking of investigating.”

  “That would be silly, wouldn’t it,” Matilda said. “After all, we’re not suspects this time. It’s only Jane’s ex-husband and I’m sure Jane doesn’t want to help him.”

  McCloud raised his eyebrows and looked at me. “You don’t want to help your ex-husband?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. “Not particularly, to be honest. I do feel sorry for Cherri though.”

  “You feel sorry for your husband’s wife who was his mistress when you were married to him?” Detective Stirling said. I hadn’t even noticed him come in. Either I was completely entranced by Detective McCloud, or Detective Stirling was sneaky.

  “Yes, I really don’t care who he marries these days,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand. “I do feel sorry for Cherri because she’s young and who knows—he could abandon her one day.”

  “Yes, it’s always awfully difficult after a marriage breakup,” Matilda said. “Are you married, Detective McCloud?”

  Detective McCloud looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Not anymore.”

  “Are you divorced too?” Matilda asked him.

  He shook his head. “No, my wife passed away some years ago.”

  “Let us ask the questions,” Detective Stirling said in a brusque tone. “I don’t think our personal lives are of any concern to you.”

  “So what can we do for you?” I asked them.

  Stirling flipped open his notepad. “Mrs. Delight,” he began, but I interrupted him. “It’s Miss, obviously. As you are well aware, my ex-husband has remarried.”

  “Yes, I should know it’s Miss by now,” Stirling countered, “since you have been involved in two murder investigations in a short space of time.”

  I bristled. “I hardly think involved is the right word, Detective,” I said. “It was proven I had nothing to do with the last murder, and this time I was simply a witness.”

  Stirling made to speak again, but Detective McCloud forestalled him. “That’s right. Now Miss Delight, we would like to ask you some questions about your ex-husband, Ted Delight. Was he always a lawyer? By that I mean, was he a lawyer straight out of college or did he perhaps train in medicine, or anything else?”

  I shot Matilda a look. “No, he’s always been a lawyer,” I said.

  “And what about his wife, Cherri Delight?” Stirling asked me. “What do you know about her?”

  “I met her for the first time the other night,” I told him. “I hadn’t even spoken to her on the phone before that. The first I knew of her was on my fiftieth birthday when my husband told me he was leaving me and marrying
Cherri. All I knew was that she was a college student. I have no idea if she was studying brain surgery or what she was studying.”

  Stirling looked disappointed. “And did your husband have close friends?”

  “I suppose so,” I said, “but he never brought them home and he never took me out to dinner with any of them.”

  “Did he have more than one mistress?” Stirling asked me.

  I shrugged. “I don’t have a clue. Cherri is the first one he told me about, but he could have had more for all I know.”

  “Thanks for your help, Miss Delight. I’m sure we’ll speak again,” Stirling said.

  He and Detective McCloud made to leave when Cherri burst through the door. She let out a screech when she saw the detectives. “What are you two doing here?” she said in a high-pitched tone.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” Stirling said. “Are you friends with Miss Delight?”

  “We’re not exactly friends, but she seems like a nice person,” Cherri said. She was wide-eyed, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

  I thought I had better explain before the detectives thought Cherri and I were in it together and added me to the list of suspects. “That night after Mr. Matheson died, Cherri came to the apartment and said she was very upset that her husband had been questioned over the murder.”

  Stirling narrowed his eyes. “That seems a strange thing to do considering she never met you before.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Matilda beat me to it. “Cherri said she didn’t know anyone else in town and she was awfully distraught,” Matilda told him. “My sister Eleanor and I were with Jane when Cherri came in. We were all surprised to see her, considering Jane had met her for the first time that night, but Cherri said she had nowhere else to go. She was upset that you suspected her husband.”

  “And why would you be concerned that we would suspect your husband was involved in the murder?” Stirling said to clearly frightened Cherri.

  “Because you questioned him a lot,” she said. “He didn’t do it, I tell you!”

  “And what are you doing here now?” Stirling asked her.