Lethal Lasagna

by Rhonda Gibson

  TITLE

  Lethal Lasagna

  Chapter 25

  So that was her plan, to defy my family and allow me to do what I wanted. I laughed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be able to walk him in the morning.” I tossed off the blanket. “But, right now I want to see my bedroom again. There might be something there the police missed.”

  “Are you supposed to go in there?” Gloria asked as she followed me down the hall.

  “If the yellow tape is any indication, probably not.” I slipped under it.

  Gloria stood in the doorway and shook her head. “Not that a little thing like that is going to stop you.”

  “Nope.” I stood on the wrong side of the yellow line and looked around.

  Someone banged on the back door.

  I groaned. “Oh, that’s probably Megan.”

  “Stay here and I’ll stall her.” Gloria disappeared down the hall.

  If I hurried, I could look about the room and pretend I’d been in the bathroom before Megan thought to come looking for me. The stench of the room wasn’t as bad as the night before but it still left a bad odor in my nostrils.

  Black powder covered the doorknob and several other places in the room. It was bad enough I had had to clean the finger printing film off my kitchen a few days ago, now I’d have to do so again. I noticed that the powder was smeared in some places. It was nice to know that the police had already dusted for prints.

  I moved to the wall to look up at the message that had been written just for me. Mind your own business. The writing slashed across my creamy white paint in angry red streaks. I didn’t even want to think about the fowl or rodent that had given up its lifeblood for me.

  Pushing the thought away, I pretended to write the words myself. I stretched my arm up and realized that whoever had left the message stood taller than I did. If I had written the note, it would have been a couple of inches lower.

  My hand accidentally grazed a splatter of semi-dried blood. It wasn’t sticky. Wasn’t blood supposed to be real sticky? I lowered my head and took a whiff. The light scent of tomatoes tickled my nose. “It’s ketchup.” I whispered.

  “Yes it is and you are messing around where you don’t belong.” The hard words came from behind me. I recognized Detective Howard’s gruff voice.

  Caught, I glanced down at my ketchup-coated fingers. Red handed no less. “Guilty as charged.”

  He held the tape up. “Get out of there.”

  My movements were slow and stiff, but I did as he asked. “I was just trying to help,” I offered in my stop bossing-me-around tone.

  He turned me to face the wall. His hands rough on my forearms. “See the message?”

  I nodded. I wished he’d release me, and I tried to wiggle free.

  His hands held me in place. “Read it aloud please.”

  “Mind your own business.”

  He leaned down close to my ear and said, “Sounds like good advice to me.”

  “But this is my business.” The protest sounded weak as I looked up at the words that appeared to have been written in anger.

  Releasing me, he sighed. “Claire, please leave this to the police. We’ll catch him.”

  I returned to the living room and sat back down on the couch. Detective Howard followed. I heard banging in the kitchen and wondered what Gloria was trying to find. I sighed. “Look, I’m not trying to make it difficult for you. I just think that people will talk to me easier than they do you.” I picked at the loose threads on the blanket.

  He sat down across from me. “The killer knows you are snooping into this case. Right now you’re getting warnings, but if you find out who killed Mitzi, he won’t hesitate to kill you, too.”

  “I know that.” Saying the words didn’t make them any less scary. “But, I don’t want to give up. Finding Mitzi’s murderer is important to me.”

  Gloria stuck her head in from the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of sweet tea, Detective?”

  So that ’ s what she ’ d been doing.

  He stood. “No thanks. I just came by to let you ladies know that I have a patrol car cruising by every hour to check on the house.” His steely eyes focused on me. “Lay low for a few days, Claire. Finding Mitzi’s murderer is important to the police, too.”

  I nodded and then pressed. “Does this mean I can keep asking questions?”

  The detective closed his eyes. His lips moved as if he was counting. Then he opened them. “Promise me you will rest for a couple of days. I know I can’t trust you not to be meddlesome, but I can ask you to keep me posted on what you learn.” Before I could respond, he added, “This isn’t a game, Ms. Parker.”

  Aware of Gloria standing in the room, I gave the detective the respect he deserved. “You have my word; I will take a rest from this for a few days. And, when I start asking questions again, you’ll be the first to know.”

  He nodded. I felt as if he were admitting defeat. “I’m sending a cleaning crew to take care of your bedroom. Do not allow them in if one of my officers isn’t with them. Understand?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated and then looked at me again. “Claire, be careful.”

  A chill filled me at the real concern in his voice. I pulled the blanket over my legs. “I will, I promise.” That was one promise I intended to keep.

  As soon as the door closed behind him, Gloria handed me a frosty glass of tea. “Now that he’s gone tell me, what’s going on between you and Brandon Harvest?”

  What should I tell her? How much? “Shhhh, not too loud. He is on the front porch, you know.” At her nod, I continued in a soft voice, “I’m not sure there’s much to tell. He’s showing a romantic interest,” I took a sip of the sweet tea.

  “But?” Gloria prompted sitting down and crossing her legs.

  I sighed. “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

  She smiled. “Do you get all breathless when he’s around?”

  “What is this? High school?”

  Gloria leaned forward and answered dramatically. “Nope. Claire Parker, this is your life.”

  For a brief moment I expected some old school teacher’s voice to come out over a loud speaker. I remember Claire. She was a quiet girl with lots of potential. I shook my head to get rid of the illusion of being on an old TV show.

  “Well?”

  I pulled my feet onto the couch and positioned the pillow to ease the pain in my aching back. “Sometimes. But most of the time, I just feel happy and content to spend time with him.”

  A twinkle entered her eye. “Has he kissed you?”

  Heat filled my cheeks.

  A soft laugh filled the air. “How was it?”

  I found that stray thread and began pulling at it again. “Nice.”

  “Hum, just nice?”

  What was this, twenty questions? “It was nice.”

  She arched an eyebrow.

  “Okay, I liked it.”

  The other brow moved up with the first.

  I sighed. “He makes me feel special. Is that what you want to hear?”

  “It’s a start. Now why don’t you tell him how you feel?” She scooted back and picked up her tea from the coffee table.

  “I don’t know. Right now I just want to focus on finding Mitzi’s murderer. Is that so wrong?” Defiance filled my voice. I didn’t want to think too hard on my relationship with Brandon. Before I could stop it, a yawn escaped my lips.

  “Okay, I can take a hint.” Gloria unfolded her legs and ordered. “To bed with you.”

  “I thought I was sleeping here.”

  She shook her head. “Nope. That’s my bed. You are going to the guestroom.” Gloria pulled the blanket off me.

  “I don’t think that’s right. You should have the bed.” I looked up at her.

  Gloria gave me a stern look. “Do I need to call Megan? She’ll come over here, and then I’ll have to go home and poor Sprocket will miss out on his walk in the morning.” The threat was laced w
ith a smile and a teasing tone.

  “Heaven forbid.” I swung my legs off the couch and headed for the bedroom at a snails pace. Her voice stopped me at the door.

  “Do you need anything before you go? I can get you a couple more aspirin.” She offered.

  I smiled. “No thanks. I appreciate you staying with me tonight.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” She walked into the kitchen, and I went to bed.

  ****

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Brandon asked.

  I hadn’t told him I was coming to class for just this reason. He’d refused to let me go with him on Monday so I knew he’d still protest today. “I’m fine.”

  He nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back in a moment.”

  A sigh escaped me as he walked out of the classroom. I was early and the first to arrive, so I pulled out the young adult book I’d picked up at the flea market and began to read.

  “Well, well. Look who’s here, Karen.”

  I looked up to see that Jack and Karen had slipped into the classroom. From the looks on their faces, something wasn’t right in their world. “Hello.” I smiled and then went back to my book.

  A hand came over the top of it and pushed it down. Karen knelt in front of my seat. “Tell me, Mrs. Parker. What did we ever do to you?”

  I smiled and pulled my book out from under her hand. From the corner of my eye, I saw Jack sit down on the desk beside me. “Nothing that I’m aware of.”

  His voice growled. “Then what’s the big idea of siccing the police on us?”

  I folded my arms over my chest careful of the bandaged wrist. “I didn’t sic the police on you.”

  “No?” Karen slapped the top of my desk. “You are the one with all the questions about your dead friend.”

  “So? What’s that got to do with the police questioning you?” I prayed I could play dumb long enough for other students or Brandon to get there.

  Her gaze burned into mine. “You are the only person that I know of that would say we had a fight with her.”

  Jack stood and shoved the desk off to the side. “And we don’t like being questioned by the fuzz.” He added.

  Fuzz? I shook my head at the use of such a sixties word. “Look, I didn’t tell the police to question you. Maybe they are questioning everyone in the class. Did you stop to think about that?” I asked, aware that Jack now stood between escape and me.

  He rubbed his chin as if in deep thought. “As a matter of fact, we were smart enough to ask a few people about it, and no one here but us was questioned. So, we got to thinking about it. You’ve been absent, and the police are asking us very personal questions.” He dropped his hand and growled. “It had to be you.”

  Karen laid a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  Now how did she know I had a bruise the size of a basketball on that shoulder? I flinched but refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing my fear and pain. “It wasn’t me.”

  “What’s going on here?” Brandon demanded. He was followed by several of his women students.

  Jack backed up and Karen dropped her hand. “We were just talking.”

  “About what?” Brandon’s chocolate-eyed gaze met mine.

  What did I have to lose? “It seems Karen and Jack were questioned by the police regarding Mitzi Douglas.”

  “Aw, they stopped by my place and asked me some questions, too.” He walked to the front of the class and opened a notebook.

  Karen sat down in the chair beside Mitzi’s. “Really? I thought we were the only ones.”

  Dora Lee, one of the romance writers, took her seat. “No, they visited me, too. They asked questions like, did you like her? Did she have any enemies? Did you ever argue with her?” She waved her hand in the air. That sort of thing. “I was under the impression they were just checking to see if she had any enemies that I knew of.” She flipped her blond streaked grey hair and then pulled a notebook from her bag. The strong scent of her perfume filled the air.

  “Oh.” Karen looked down at the desk. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Parker.”

  I reached across and patted her hand. “No harm done.”

  Inside I was screaming, murderer!

  TITLE

  Lethal Lasagna

  Chapter 26

  I was glad when class ended. Brandon took up the short story assignment he’d given in my absence. After class, I headed home.

  My encounter with Karen and Jack had drained me. Once I was safely inside the house, I picked up the phone and called Detective Howard. It didn’t take me long to fill him in on what had happened. After hanging up, I decided I needed a large bowl of chocolate ice cream.

  The sound of a truck pulling into the driveway caught my attention. I looked out the window. Brandon got out. I pulled another bowl from the cabinet.

  He knocked at the door.

  “Come in.”

  Within a few moments he’d traveled through the short hallway and smiled as he entered the kitchen. As he pocketed the key I’d given him earlier he asked, “Whatcha making?”

  I pulled the ice cream from the freezer and held it up. “Want some?”

  He moved to the table. “Sure, count me in.”

  A smile tickled my lips. If he thought I’d just serve him, he had another think coming. I carried the ice cream and scoop to the table. “What are those?” I indicated the short stacks of papers he’d laid out on the table before returning to the counter.

  “The class’s short stories.”

  I scooped up the bowls and spoons and returned. “For their finals?” After placing them on the table, I opened the ice cream, handed him the scoop, and sat down.

  “No, that’s not for two more weeks. These are practice stories. I told them I’d grade them and give them pointers so that their finals aren’t a surprise.” He filled my bowl with the cold treat and slid it across the table to me.

  “Thanks.” I picked up one of the manuscripts. “Mind if I glance at this?” I’d already picked it up and read the title. Maggie’s Monsters by Martha Lewis. Hey, this is the story by the lady who used to sit behind me in class. Right?”

  He carried the ice cream back to the freezer, and then returned. “Right. I’m glad you want to read them. I plan on evaluating a couple while I enjoy this.” Brandon dipped his spoon into the cold dessert.

  I’d always heard a person shouldn’t read anything while eating. Something about, you don’t realize how much you eat. Or was it you don’t enjoy what you eat? On the dieting roller coaster of life, you hear all sorts of things. In this case, I decided to ignore the advice and read.

  Mrs. Lewis’s story was cute. Maggie’s fear of monsters left her hiding all the time. Once she realized the monsters weren’t real, she could go outside and play again. I laid it to the side and watched Brandon as he ate and read.

  He’d read a few lines of each story and then push them aside and take up a new one. It dawned on me that he was looking for something. But what?

  With him so deep into the reading, I could study him unobserved. His brown hair looked windblown. I wondered how it would feel if I combed it with my fingers. Would it be as silky and soft as it looked?

  Laugh lines crinkled at the corner of his eyes. His lips were slightly parted as he read. The man was just handsome. I sighed.

  He looked up.

  I panicked. Had he seen me staring? And heard my sigh? “This is it!” He held up the first page of the story he’d been reading.

  “What is it?” My voice shook. I looked down into my empty bowl. Man, the diet sayings were true. I hadn’t even realized I’d finished off my chocolate treat.

  “This is the story we found in Mitzi’s apartment. Fred Wilson wrote it.” He frowned.

  “Are you sure?”

  Fred didn’t seem like a murderer. He was about forty years old with thick black hair and eyes the color of night. And, he walked with a cane.

  “Be right back.” Brandon scooped the last of the melted ice cream from his bowl. He got
up and carried it to the sink and then hurried down the hallway and out the back door.

  I watched him open his truck and pull something out before he headed back into the house. Pushing my bowl back, I picked up Fred’s papers and began reading. Chills ran up my spine as I read. I flipped through the pages absorbed in the story and all it had to offer.

  It didn’t take long to read. When I finished I looked up at Brandon. “Wow.”