“Not from Addie.” She looked up at the dark-haired, lanky man towering over her. “No secrets from my bestie, ever.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“I’m thrilled for the two of you, but where will you live? Neither of your apartments are really big enough for two people.”
“We haven’t gotten that far yet,” Serena said.
Zach placed his arm around Serena’s shoulders, “No, but we’ll figure it out. We’ll start looking after the holidays.”
“I’m thrilled for you.” Addie kissed Serena’s cheek.
“Are you really?”
“Of course, I am.” She gave her friend a hug. “Congratulations.”
Serena squealed. “Come on, Zach. Let’s get a hot chocolate to celebrate. I’m freezing.” She grabbed his hand.
Addie tittered, watching the two of them disappear into the crowd.
“I missed another joke, didn’t I?” Simon placed a hand on the small of her back.
“I hope it’s not. Serena and Zach are moving in together, but shhh”—her finger covered his lip—“it’s a secret for now.”
His fingers tucked a strand of windblown hair behind her ear. “So, besides the cold, there’s romance in the air tonight, is there?” His finger lingered on her cheek, his thumb stroking the outline of her jaw. Was this it? Was this finally the moment? His fingertip lifted her chin. She smiled, but her gaze went not to his eyes, but to his lips so close to hers.
“There you are.” A husky voice filled the closing space between them.
Addie groaned. Not again. “Marc?”
“Addie, Simon.” He nodded, a mischievous look dancing in his eyes. “I hate to tear you away from . . . the festivities . . . but I want to talk to you for a minute, Simon.”
“Okay.” Simon placed his hand on the small of her back again. Addie leaned into it.
“Alone, if you don’t mind. It’s official business.”
A growl rumbled from the back of her throat. She glared at them as they conversed over by the gazebo stairs, just out of earshot. She spun on her heel and headed for the bake table. Gingerbread. She needed gingerbread to calm her down or else . . . well. She wasn’t sure, but she needed to stuff something in her mouth to stifle the words she wanted to scream at Marc. What an incorrigible . . . insufferable man. She slapped a dollar on the table, picked up a gingerbread man, and bit its head off.
Martha looked at her from behind the table. Her pencil-sketched eyebrow cocked. “Having a bad day, are we?”
“Men,” was all Addie could get out of her stuffed mouth.
“Here”—Martha held up another gingerbread man—“I’ve killed a few of these myself over the years.” She gave Addie a conspiratorial wink.
Addie sputtered, a few bits of gingerbread shrapnel escaping her lips. Martha grinned and handed her a napkin. “Thanks.” Addie wiped the remnants of gingerbread off her lips.
Martha moved away to assist another customer, leaving Addie flabbergasted. She glanced back at the baker. But if Ebenezer Scrooge could change his surly ways, why couldn’t Martha? A Christmas miracle? Spotting Catherine and her group over by the hot chocolate table, Addie headed toward them. An arm slipped through hers, the comforting familiarity of it causing her heart to expand even further. “So, Simon, what did our friend want to talk about that was so hush-hush?”
“Nothing, actually, at least nothing you couldn’t have overheard.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, he just told me he’s getting a lot of pressure from the DA and asked me if I had heard anything back from the major crimes lab yet.”
“Have you?”
“No”—Simon’s eyes narrowed—“and he knows full well that I would have given him the report as soon as I received it.” He bit the words out.
“So, what’s the delay? Have they said?”
“Just that they’re still working on it. It’s an organic compound they haven’t been able to identify conclusively yet.”
“At least you know you weren’t the only one puzzled by the findings.”
“Whatever it is that’s causing the anomalies, it must be rare if they have to go to an international database for a match. But I think Marc’s interruption had more to do with breaking up what he thought was about to occur between us.”
“And”—she swallowed—“what was going to occur?” Her eyes locked with his.
“Something I want more than anything in the world right now.” His fingers trailed down her cheek.
“You do?” She rose onto her tippy toes, her lips parted. His head dipped. She drew in a slow, unsteady breath. She paused and looked at the group by the hot chocolate table. Her eyes met Jonathan’s. She shivered when the reflection of David looked back at her. She glanced beside him and saw the pained expression on Marc’s face as he looked at her and Simon. She rested back on the soles of her feet.
Simon’s eyes followed the direction of her gaze and then locked on Addie. “Funny thing about ghosts from the past, isn’t it?” Her lip quivered. “They disappear and reappear at the darnedest times.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward the street.
“Simon, no.” She chased after him. “Let me explain.”
He stopped. “You know what? What I’m feeling, and started to believe you were, too, doesn’t require any explanation. It just happens.” He clasped her shoulders. “The way you make me feel doesn’t come along every day. It happens once, maybe twice in a lifetime if you’re lucky, at least for me, but apparently, that’s not true for you, and you’ve just made that very clear.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m just saying that what I’m feeling, it hits you when you’re not looking or when you think you’re not ready. You can’t fight it, you can only go with it, no matter what’s happening around you.”
“But, it was just—”
He shook his head and pulled away. “I do understand loss and grieving, and I was willing to wait to give you all the time in the world after David to be ready. Now, I don’t think that’s what you really want, and I’m not sure I can wait anymore.”
She struggled to find words, tears threatening to overtake her.
“I guess that tells me everything I need to know.” He turned on his boot heel.
She grabbed his sleeve. “Can we at least talk, so I can explain what just happened?”
“Maybe another time.” He waved his hand in the air over his head. “I’m not in the mood now.” He marched toward the truck and pulled away.
Chapter 21
Addie scrunched her clothes in a ball, flung them at the laundry basket, and missed. “Men,” she roared, stomping on them and kicking them aside, scattering her undies, jeans, and blouse across the bedroom. She yanked open her middle dresser drawer, looked at her spaghetti-strapped sleeping top and cropped leggings, shivered, slammed it shut, and flung open the bottom drawer. She plucked out a pair of flannel pajamas, shoved her arms and legs into the appropriate holes, snatched her pink plush robe from the hook on the back of the closet door, thrust her toes into matching fuzzy slippers, and padded down the stairs into the kitchen. She picked up the tea canister, slammed it on the counter, withdrew a bag, dropped it in her cup, plugged in the kettle, and waited for it to boil.
The steam coming from the kettle mirrored her rage. Her brewed tea in hand, she nestled onto her couch and took a sip. “Well, Nighty-Night tea, I sure hope you do what Serena said you would.” She took another sip. “Ah, yes, much better now.” She rested her head against the deep throw pillow propped up behind her and stared at the makeshift crime board. “Okay, talk to me. No one else wants to tonight. First, Marc excludes me, and then Simon stomps off.”
Her gaze trailed across the clues she’d written down. What was she missing? Was it in plain sight and she just didn’t see it? She set her cup on the table, picked up the pen, and stood in front of the brown paper. But it was no use. Nothing fit together, except . . . she drew a curved line fr
om Jonathan’s name to Crystal’s and stabbed the pen for exclamation when she wrote the word peach. She stepped back and looked at her number two suspect. “Marvin, Marvin, Marvin.” She tried to remember everything she knew about him, but nothing more came to light. Her focus went to Patrick, but she still had nothing new to add and her hand dropped to her side. She wrote victim, her hand unsteady, or was he really? “What’s missing?” Well, aside from a full autopsy report and not knowing if a murder had actually been committed and the fact that her book was still MIA, she had nothing. Maybe that’s what all the clues were telling her. Nothing unusual had happened. A woman fell down the stairs, and her book was just lost because Teresa couldn’t tell anyone now where she had moved it.
She grabbed a corner of the paper, ripped it off the wall, folded it, and stuffed it into her tote bag on the table. Addie took a gulp of her cold tea, wishing it was something stronger, flipped off the lights, and made her way up to bed, hoping the so-called calming effects of the tea hadn’t started to wear off yet. All this other stuff would have to wait until tomorrow. She grinned, cocooning herself in the blankets, and snuggled into bed. She had become a very good Scarlett O’Hara lately. Margaret Mitchell would have been proud of her.
The bees swarmed at her again. She batted at the air with her parasol screaming for Rhett Butler to shoo them away. One landed on her cheek. She slapped at it and bolted up in bed. The incessant buzzing didn’t stop. Where’s Rhett? She ran her fingers over her face, finding no stings. With a groan, she slammed her hand on the buzzing alarm clock. It was only a dream. She wasn’t Scarlett and sadly would have to face the music today. Rhett had waited for her, too, but in the end he’d had enough and walked away. She couldn’t. No, wouldn’t let Simon do the same.
She fumbled for her robe at the foot of the bed and, one eye open, stumbled down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, a bang on the front door jerked her fully awake. She tightened her robe belt and peered out the peephole and moaned. “It’s too early to do perky.”
Serena swept past her and went directly into the living room, making herself at home on the sofa.
“And to what do I owe this early morning visit?”
“I’ve been thinking.” Serena took her coat off and drew her legs up under her. “You know that two-bedroom apartment over your garage?”
“Yes.” Addie flopped down on the arm of the sofa. “And you had to come here at seven a.m. to remind me of it?”
“I guess it could have waited until later, but—”
“Do you think?”
“It’s just that I haven’t been able to sleep all night thinking about it.”
“Why on earth would that keep you up all night?”
“It’s just that I remembered at one time you had offered to rent it out to Paige and her little girl, but since Paige is enjoying”—she coughed—“living with her mother now. I was wondering if it’s still available.”
“Why, what are you thinking?”
“That it would be perfect for me and Zach.” She jumped to her feet. “Wouldn’t it, and we’d be next-door neighbors so to speak.”
Addie’s hand ran through her tangled, bed-head hair. “Well, that would also make me your landlord. Can you live with that?”
“I swear”—Serena crossed her heart—“that we’d be the best tenants ever. You wouldn’t even know we were there.”
“Knowing you, I don’t see that happening.” Addie grinned. “But seriously, I hadn’t thought about renting it out since I offered it to Paige last year.”
“But it’s just sitting there, so, could we take a look at it?”
“It does need clearing out. I have no idea what’s all up there. It hasn’t been used as anything but storage for years by my understanding.”
“Zach has some time off now from the clinic for term break. He could clear it out, and then it would be ready for us to move into after the holidays.”
“I’m sure it needs repairs and painting, though, and—”
“Can we please, please, please take a look? Maybe some of it we could do after we move in, like the painting.”
“Really, all this before I even have my morning coffee?” She shook her head. “Okay, what the heck, if you really want to.”
“I want,” giggled Serena. “How much?”
“I have no idea.” She looked around her comfortably decorated living room. “I don’t need the money. Let me think on it, after coffee.” Addie gave up counting how many times Serena’s head bobbed up and down. “If”—Addie’s gaze narrowed—“you and Zach promise to do the work to fix it up. I still haven’t gotten to half of what needs doing in this house yet.”
“You’re the best.” Serena flung her arms around her.
Addie grinned and pried her off. “I was just going to make breakfast. Want some eggs and toast?”
“Have you ever known me to refuse food?” Serena followed her into the kitchen.
Addie glanced back at her. “Somehow, I get the feeling that in the future this might become a regular occurrence.”
“What?” Serena patted her chest, feigning innocence. “I’d never impose myself on you.”
“Yes, you would.”
Serena retrieved a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. “So, what happened to Simon last night? Did he get called into the hospital early?”
“I don’t want to talk about him, or Marc, ever again. So, you can stop worrying about me being a flirt. Juggling more than one man at a time is a skill I don’t seem to possess.” She banged the frying pan on the counter.
“Okay, if you say so.” Serena set a mixing bowl on the counter. “But—”
Addie’s hand flew up in front of Serena’s face. “Shhh!” She smacked an egg on the side of the bowl rim, sending innards and shell debris flying across the counter.
“Is that someone knocking on the front door?”
“I didn’t hear anything except this.” Addie cracked another one against the rim.
The pounding continued.
“Are you expecting anyone? Maybe one of those names I’m not allowed to mention.” Serena glanced out of the kitchen entrance and down to hall.
“No, definitely not, but would you mind seeing who else besides you dares to disturb me before my morning coffee.”
Serena ruffled her hair on her way by. “But you look so cute first thing in the morning. You should really go. Especially if you are serious about having nothing more to do with either of them. It might scare them off.” She ducked the dishtowel Addie threw at her and escaped into the hallway, giggling.
Serena’s voice drifted down the hall. “What are you doing here at this time of the morning?”
“I could ask you the same.”
Addie flinched and dropped an eggshell into the bowl at the sound of Marc’s voice.
“I assure you it’s police business. Can I come in?”
“Now what have I done?” Addie muttered, rinsing her hands.
“Morning, Addie, sorry to interrupt your breakfast, but I need to ask you something.”
She dried her hands on a kitchen towel and flung it on the counter. “Okay, what have I done now?”
“Nothing. I want to pick your researcher’s brain is all.”
“I see.” She placed her hands on the edge of the island countertop. “Last night, everything is all secret, don’t let Addie hear, but today you need my help?”
He ignored her, his gaze darkening for only a moment. “What do you know about tetrodotoxin?”
“That sounds like a medical term. You’re probably better off asking Dr. Emerson, not me.”
“Dr. Emerson now, is it?” He didn’t flinch at her glare. “I would expect he’s in surgery right now. There was a bad traffic accident up on the highway last night.”
She dropped her glare and studied the broken eggs in the bowl.
“I was just wondering if you’d come across it in any of those books you read?”
“Tetrodotoxin,” she repeated. “It kind
of sounds like something I’ve heard of before, but it’s not something my kind of research generally comes across except. . . maybe in fiction reading.” She snapped her fingers. “That’s it. I have read the word before. There was something mentioned about it in a book I read a few years ago.”
“Marc, my dear Stone Age brother”—Serena rolled her eyes and sighed—“have you thought of checking on the Internet like the rest of the world would?”
“I was just hoping . . .”
Serena glanced sideways at him. “Yeah, I can imagine what you were hoping for by this poor dumb me, I don’t know how to do an Internet search routine.” She gave him an exaggerated wink.
Addie willed herself not to laugh, but it was hard given the expression on Serena’s face. “Come on, let’s go. I’ll teach you how it’s done.” She stalked from the kitchen, Serena’s bubbling laughter following them down the hall into the living room. Addie sank onto the sofa, adjusted her gaping robe closed, and flipped her laptop open.
Marc motioned to the crime board. “Looks like you’ve been doing some of your own research lately?”
“Yeah, so? It hasn’t gotten me anywhere.” She typed in “tetrodotoxin” and a full page of results rolled down her screen. “Okay, here’s one by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.”
Marc sat down, leaned into her, and read aloud. “Appearance: Colorless. Description: Tetrodotoxin is an extremely potent poison (toxin) found mainly in the liver and sex organs (gonads) of some fish, such as puffer fish, globefish, and toadfish and in some amphibian, octopus, and shellfish species. Human poisonings occur when the flesh and/or organs of the fish are improperly prepared and eaten.”
“Found in some fish, hmm.” Serena leaned her chin in her hand on the sofa back and poked her head between them. “Zach loves fish, I should tell him about this.”
“I’m sure as a naturopath he knows already.” Addie cleared her throat. “Just like a trained police officer would know how to conduct his own research,” she mumbled under her breath, and looked over her shoulder at Serena. “So don’t worry”—she noted Marc’s ears had turned a fire-engine red—“it’s none of the fish we commonly eat even at our little House of Sushi. Maybe in some fancy restaurant, and even then, the chef would have to be a highly trained and licensed professional to prepare it.” She tapped her finger on the edge of her laptop. “So, how did Teresa manage to eat some if all she had was sushi?”
Murder in the First Edition Page 16
