As Lori exited the kitchen, she stumbled. She managed to catch herself but apparently didn’t notice that she’d splashed a little bit of water onto the tile floor.
Jenna rolled her eyes. “I’d better get that. Last thing we need is for one of the guests to slip and sue both of us.” She threw a folded paper towel onto the spill and wiped it up with her foot before bending down to retrieve the towel.
I took a piece of cheesecake from one of the trays and rearranged the rest so they were even. “So you talked to Craig that morning?” I asked, nonchalantly peeling back the paper liner.
“Yes. Not that there was any getting through to him. He was wearing that silly costume, and I think he really believed he was some kind of superhero. Anyway, he had much more important things to do than talk to me.”
“Did he seem himself? I mean, was he off balance or slurring his words or anything like that? Anything odd?”
“You mean like drunk?”
“Something like that.”
“I guess he could’ve been,” Jenna said. “It’d explain him falling off the catwalk, I suppose. I honestly didn’t know him well enough to say if he were acting out of the ordinary. It was hard to talk with him wearing that mask.”
“Was he angry when you confronted him?”
“He mostly just blew me off. It’s not like I had much of a legal ground to stand on. I was hoping to appeal to his compassionate side, but I’m not sure he had one. He actually boasted that he was going to put all that money to much better use, and if I stuck around, I’d see what it was.”
“And did you? Stick around?”
She nodded. “Mostly just hoping to drive away some of his paying customers. Just plant a few seeds that he was ripping people off. And yes, I heard that some comic books went missing. If you’re wondering if I stole them, not a chance. Craig would have liked nothing better than to see me pinched for shoplifting, but I think one Duncan in prison is enough, thank you very much.”
“Did you tell anyone else besides your husband that Craig had those comics?”
“You’re thinking someone I know tried to steal them for me? Honey, I wish I had friends that good.” She carried the two plates into the dining room. I tried to remember what Dad had told me about how to tell if someone was lying, but they were mostly facial cues, and I’m pretty sure that if Jenna had “liar” written all over her face, it was erased by enough Botox to kill a cow. The growing irritation in her voice, however, was coming across quite clearly.
“There you are,” Cathy said. “I just had a wonderful conversation with the library director. She’s offered to let us display some of our antique toys in the glass case in the lobby. We can’t put prices on them, of course, but we can put in a little sign saying they’re on loan from the shop. Isn’t that great?”
She picked up the crushed piece of cheesecake, examined it, shrugged, and popped it into her mouth. “What are you doing hiding in here?”
“Waiting for Jenna Duncan to come back. She’s playing hostess. Or more like scullery drudge.”
“Did you learn anything?”
“She admits to being at the show, but I think I just ticked her off, and I have one more question to ask.”
“What is it?”
“If she’d ever traveled to Colombia.”
“Why Colombia?” Cathy asked. “I thought you said they already found that drug when they searched the hotel room of those two mob guys.”
“They found what looks like a drug. It hasn’t been tested yet, and it’s also possible Jenna’s tied up in this somehow. Maybe she hired them. Maybe she supplied the drug.”
“No worries. I got this.”
When Jenna returned, Cathy piled on the charm. “Jenna! I just had to compliment you. Liz here said you’ve supplied the food. Everything is simply scrumptious!”
“I mostly just put it on the plates,” she said.
“Now, don’t be humble. I don’t know what Lori would do without you!”
Miracle of miracles, Jenna’s face actually moved. Into somewhat of a smile, no less.
“And my, you certainly don’t look like you’ve been slaving away. You look fantastic! What a great tan. Have you been traveling? Somewhere exciting?”
“Fat chance,” Jenna said. “I do have an amazing excursion planned. I’m blowing all my garage sale money and anything I earn tonight on a lavish trip to visit my mother in exotic Cleveland.” She rolled her eyes. “Josh and I had been talking about going back to the Dominican Republic. Such wonderful ocean breezes. But then . . . I haven’t been out of the country in so long, I’m not even sure my passport is valid.”
When we left the kitchen, Cathy was waylaid by someone else she knew. I meandered through the dining room, placed an order for a nontoxic cleaner I didn’t need, put my name in for a raffle, and helped myself to coffee in a cup so delicate, I was almost afraid to handle it.
Someone vacated a plush armchair next to the fireplace, and I grabbed it. This shindig was emptying out fast, and Lori had to interrupt her mopping to give out more air hugs to departing guests at the door. “Your orders should be in sometime next week,” she called out after them. “Wait! I was going to do the stove again. Who wants to see the stove?”
While a few women followed Lori into the kitchen, I waited in the chair until Cathy was finished. Left alone to review what I’d learned, I almost felt sorry for Jenna. Almost. She wasn’t exactly destitute and begging on the streets, but she deeply felt the loss of her former lifestyle. Was that enough motivation to exact revenge on Craig? He wasn’t the cause of her economic downturn, but he’d most certainly exacerbated it.
But if she blamed my father for her husband’s downfall, she could have been targeting him instead. Maybe she even hired Batman-man and Grandpa to do it. She could have paid off Janet to put the drug in the coffee before she handed it to me. Everyone has a price, right?
I did my best to shake off that thought. There was too much subsequent interest in Craig and those comic books for Craig to simply be collateral damage in some mob vendetta against my father.
I remembered what I’d read about the drug found in Craig’s system. It made victims subject to suggestion. Too much could lead to death. So which were they after? Was someone trying to control Craig to get him to surrender those pricy comics without making a scene? Or was someone trying to kill him?
Cathy took a seat next to me on a vacant ottoman. “You look like you’re ready to go,” she said. “I was hoping they’d have done the raffle by now. You have to be here to win. The prize is a whole case of Clean Queen, and you saw how fabulous it is.” She looked around to make sure nobody was listening before whispering, “I may have entered more than once.”
“We can wait,” I told her. “And if I win, you can have it. Not sure I like the smell of it.”
“It’s lemony,” she said.
“And something else. Can’t put my finger on it.”
Lori strode across the living room heading in our direction. Instead, she went straight for the fireplace. “Whose bright idea was it to start a fire? Way too hot for a fire.” She unbuttoned another couple of buttons of her blouse, now exposing a lace bra she probably sold at a very different home party. She took out the tongs, started to fling ashes on top of the burning wood, and ended up sending hot sparks onto her white carpet.
I got up to help stamp them out.
Lori stopped me, giggling. “I got it.” She whisked out her Clean Queen bottle and sprayed it on the ashes on the carpet. It burst into flames, sending a terrible stench into the room.
“Oh, dear,” Lori said. Well, maybe that’s my sanitized paraphrase of her words. Red-face and sweating profusely, she seemed to have trouble standing up. She grabbed my arm.
“Liz. Help me. I don’t feel well at all. I think . . . I’ve been drugged.”
And then she passed out.
Chapter 17
The EMTs wheeled Lori away to an ambulance.
Ken stood in the middle of the living room, ey
ing the scorched pink patch of carpet that Cathy had smartly doused with the entire contents of the punchbowl. He looked up to view the handful of ladies who remained. “So this was a party?”
Heads bobbed, but nobody answered. Maybe because parties are supposed to be fun.
“Did anyone see Lori eat or drink anything?”
“She wasn’t eating,” one portly woman said. “She said she was dieting. Maybe that’s what got to her.” A ripple of conversation erupted as guests mulled the dreaded plague of low blood sugar.
“So maybe just a combination of the heat and not eating?” Cathy said.
“But she said she’d been drugged,” another woman insisted.
I wondered at that too. Lori had been quick to suspect that drugs had led to Craig’s fall. I had no idea if that was a result of town gossip or if she’d overheard something. As the mayor’s wife, Lori was often privy to information on all aspects of the community, and since Ken reported to her husband, that often included police investigations. Perhaps she had heard about the line of investigation questioning whether Craig had been drugged, and maybe that influenced her perception on why she was feeling ill.
Or, even more chilling, might someone really have drugged her? I hazarded a glance toward Jenna Duncan, who was leaning in the doorway to the kitchen. She had access to all the food and beverages, but why would she target Lori? And would she be stupid enough to do it when she, as kitchen help, would likely be the first suspect?
“I don’t feel so good either,” another guest said. Power of suggestion? If we weren’t careful, half the women at the party would be in the ER suffering from the effects of mass hysteria.
“I’ve sampled most of the appetizers,” I admitted. “And I feel fine.”
“Wait!” Cathy said. “Clean Queen.”
“What about it?” Ken said.
“She’d been taking sips of it all evening,” Cathy said.
“More than sips,” another woman volunteered. “Toward the end she was chugging it.”
“Clean Queen?” Ken said, picking up a bottle from a nearby table. He unscrewed the spray cap and sniffed the contents. He thought for a moment, then sniffed it again.
“It’s supposed to be organic and nontoxic,” Cathy said.
Ken’s lips shut tight as he screwed the nozzle back on the bottle and set it on the mantel. His face looked grave, but when he wiped his mouth, I could see he was hiding a smile. When he’d composed himself, he said, “The good news is the patient will recover. Nobody was drugged, and you’re all safe. The bad news . . .”
Everyone in the room hung on his next words. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel all the orders. I can’t allow sales of Clean Queen to continue. And I’m going to have to confiscate all the bottles present.”
“But the raffle winner hasn’t been chosen yet!” Cathy was indignant.
“All the bottles,” he said. “I’m afraid it’s illegal to sell this cleaner in this state.” He couldn’t stop the smirk. “At least without a valid liquor license,” he added under his breath when he turned to me.
“Vodka!” I said, snapping my fingers. “I thought I recognized that smell.”
“More like white lightning, but on those same lines,” Ken said.
When the rest of the guests had dispersed, with Jenna promising full refunds as soon as Lori had sufficiently recovered, I apologized to Ken. “Sorry to drag you out here. But when Lori said ‘drugged,’ I was worried we had a serial killer on the loose.”
“I’m glad you called.” He looked briefly around the room. “Is there someplace you and I can talk privately?”
Jenna pointed the way down a short hallway, and Ken and I found ourselves in a dark, masculine office.
I gave him what I hoped was a flirty come-hither look. “In the mayor’s private office? How naughty.”
“Seriously, we need to talk. There’s been a development in the case. The preliminary autopsy results are in.”
“The scopolamine.”
“Was in Craig’s system. Yes, we know that. But that’s not what killed him.”
“But it weakened him, plus the injuries from the fall.”
Ken was shaking his head. “Craig may have been drugged, but the cause of death was heart failure.”
“So after all this, his death was from natural causes?”
Ken shook his head again. “The medical examiner isn’t done yet, but he said other findings are going to make this one a clear homicide. Something about the acid levels in his blood.”
“From the drug?”
“He said no, and he’ll explain further in his report. But he’s saying that the buildup of acid was caused by Craig not getting enough oxygen. And the lack of oxygen combined with the acid buildup led to cardiac arrest.”
“Were his lungs damaged in the fall?”
“No. His doctors were sure of it because they were amazed that it was one part of him that wasn’t affected. They have the X-rays to prove it.”
“Then why wasn’t he getting enough oxygen?”
Ken took a long breath. “The ME’s not 100 percent sure. He’s comparing some injuries around Craig’s nose and mouth with the X-rays taken after he arrived, but he’s thinking someone smothered him. It’s going to be a while before he releases the body for burial.”
“Someone smothered Craig in the hospital?” I sat down on the arm of an overstuffed burgundy leather chair. “We were on our way to visit him. A few minutes earlier and we might’ve walked in on the killer. We could have prevented it.”
“Or escalated it,” Ken said. “And gotten hurt in the process.”
I swept my hair from my face and considered the ramifications. “They didn’t just drug him to get something and accidentally give him too much,” I said. “Someone wanted him dead. At least we know it was actually Craig they were after.” Relief flooded me. My father’s list of enemies . . . at least that line of investigation had officially dead-ended, even if it had been mostly my own paranoia keeping it alive. But I felt a stab of guilt too. Craig had been targeted, and this time, the killer succeeded. And apparently right under my nose.
Ken nodded and pulled me into a comforting hug. A minute later, he began to kiss my neck.
I pushed him away. “What are you doing?”
“Just thinking you were right,” he said, winking at me. “It’d be a shame to waste being alone with you in the mayor’s office.”
# # #
Maxine showed up, bright and perky, at nine thirty the next morning, even though we didn’t open until ten.
“Did the garage do a good job with your car?” I asked. “I still feel bad about that.”
She waved off my concern. “Never looked better. I think they took out some of my old dings at the same time. Besides, I’m not going to complain about my new boss on the first day.”
“Have you heard anything more about your job at the comic book shop?”
“I told the kid’s mother that I could help them clean up and take inventory. I don’t think it’s good news, though. I’m thinking she’ll probably want to sell it lock, stock, and barrel before next month’s rent is due.”
“I forgot Craig was only renting that building.”
She nodded. “And there’s a waiting list of people looking for Main Street frontage at the right price.”
I thought about that for a second. Surely nobody would sneak into a hospital and suffocate Craig for his storefront. But it reminded me that the ties connecting the comic books to Craig’s murder seemed to have melted away, and no new motives had surfaced.
“So you’ve met the new owners?” I asked. Follow the money, Dad had always said.
“Just briefly,” Maxine said. “The kid, you could tell he kind of liked the comic books. Barely looked up from his reading the whole time I was there. His mom, though. I think she has other plans.”
“Did she say more about her relationship with Craig?” I asked. “I’m sorry. That sounds so nosy. But I never heard of a
Mrs. Craig. Or of a son, either.”
“They were never married. I gathered it was a rather brief encounter,” Maxine said. “For what it’s worth, I never knew he had a kid and I worked with him every day.”
“You never saw either of them before?”
“Nope,” she said, and then her eyes clouded. “I don’t know what I expected. The boy’s not particularly sad, but then again, why would he be? I’m not sure he even knew his father. I expect the mother’s trying to figure out whether Craig being dead is good or bad for her money-wise. I think he was paying child support of some kind.”
“And now that’s going to stop,” I said, “but there’s the shop, a house, and probably life insurance.”
“Right,” she said. “But the kid seems like a quiet boy. Well-mannered, at least, from what I saw. I hope you don’t have a problem with letting me flex my hours so I can help them with the shop. I feel I owe it to Craig, and I’d hate to leave matters up in the air.”
“No, not at all,” I said. “In fact, I don’t suppose you can introduce me to the new owners?”
“You mean, accidentally on purpose?” She smiled.
“Something like that.”
“I can do that. But I want to ask you a question first.”
“What’s that?”
“Why the interest? I mean, it’s not like I don’t appreciate all you’re doing, but . . .”
Dad interrupted. I hadn’t even realized he’d come downstairs. “You didn’t tell her why we’re so interested?”
He shook Maxine’s hand firmly. “Welcome aboard!” He leaned back on the stool. “I was telling Liz that I’d love to put in a comic book room. If Craig’s Comics is shutting down, I’m interested in buying him out.”
“Oh!” Maxine visibly relaxed. “We should be done with the inventory by the end of the week. Only I’m not so sure how early they can sell. Legally, that is. I know they want to be out of the building before the next rent check is due.”
“The legal niceties can take a while,” Dad said. “It’d be easier for them than trying to sell the stock to anyone else. We pretty much just have to walk them across the street. And we have an employee who already knows the inventory. Now, if only she were permanent . . .”
Murder on the Toy Town Express Page 15
