Laced with Poison

by Meg London

  Sylvia smiled in return. “Yeah, Earl and I get along. We make a great card-playing team, that’s for sure.” Sylvia fingered the large topaz ring she wore on her right hand. “Have you made any progress in our latest case?”

  Emma shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. Crystal has a dent in her car that is consistent with the hit-and-run that killed Gladys. And I found out that Gladys reported Crystal to Jessica for stealing, although nothing ever came of it.”

  “Sounds like a good motive to me.”

  “I thought so. Of course Crystal claims that she loaned the car to Jessica at lunch one day, and when she went out to the parking lot that evening, voilà, there was a dent in the car.”

  “Of course, she would say that.” Sylvia took a puff of oxygen from the tank that was never far away.

  “She claimed to have had a big argument about it with Jessica. I wonder if anyone at Sunny Days heard her.”

  “I didn’t, but I can easily ask around. Maybe someone else did.”

  The bell over the front door jangled as someone pushed it open. “I’ll go see who that is.”

  Emma got up from her chair. She sniffed. She could have sworn she noticed the scent of vanilla. Someone’s perfume, perhaps?

  “Hello?” A voice came from the outer room.

  “Hello,” Emma answered as she walked into the showroom. “Liz!” She stopped short. Liz was nearly hidden behind a tower of white bakery boxes.

  Liz peered around the edge of the stack in her arms. “I stopped by Bitsy’s, and she asked if I could deliver these.” Liz eased the boxes onto the counter. “She said the promotion is going great, and business has really picked up.”

  “I hear you have some good news, too.”

  Liz grinned. “Yes. Did Brian tell you? Matt got that contract. And someone else contacted him yesterday about a proposal for another project.”

  “That’s great.” Emma untied the string on the top box and peeked inside. Gorgeous, miniature carrot cupcakes were nestled inside. “These look delicious.” She stuck out her lower lip. “But they’re not as pretty without your flowers.”

  A shadow crossed over Liz’s face. “I know, but she wouldn’t dare risk it.” Liz looked down at her hands. They were gardener’s hands with short, serviceable nails. “The police have been around again asking more questions. They think I blamed Jessica for the things that went missing from my father’s room.”

  Emma was about to sample one of Bitsy’s cupcakes, but her appetite suddenly deserted her. “That’s ridiculous! Besides, whoever killed Jessica must have killed Gladys Smit as well.”

  “The police are treating that as a hit-and-run—a random act. Criminal, certainly, but not related to Jessica Scott’s death.”

  Emma felt like stamping her foot in frustration. “I can’t believe they don’t see the connection.” She was quiet for a moment. “I guess we’ll have to make them see it.”

  * * *

  EMMA didn’t want to wait for Sylvia or Earl to pick up news around Sunny Days. The look on Liz’s face had Emma worried. She had to do something now. She’d phoned the volunteer coordinator at Sunny Days, and luckily, they needed someone to help with games that very evening.

  As soon as she and Sylvia closed the door to Sweet Nothings, Emma headed toward the retirement community. She had the strangest feeling that she was going to uncover something important—something that would put them on the right track. She hoped her intuition would be proved correct.

  Emma glanced at her watch as she pulled into the parking lot at the retirement home. She had to hurry; she was running a little late.

  Residents were already assembled in the activity room when Emma got there. The scent of popcorn permeated the air, and the crowd of women and a handful of men sat around munching from small paper bags.

  Missy Fanning looked considerably less cool and collected than Emma suspected she would have liked. The collar of her white blouse was wilted, and sweat stains created dark arcs under her arms. She rushed over when she saw Emma.

  “Thank goodness you’re here. The residents at that table over there”—she pointed toward a group of three people seated together—“want to play euchre and need a fourth. Do you know the game?” She batted her heavily mascara-laden eyelashes at Emma, as if that would be the deciding factor.

  “I’ve played a few times.”

  “Great!” Missy ran a hand across her chin where sweat beaded in the crease.

  Emma moved toward the table Missy had indicated. She recognized Eloise Montgomery, who was dressed in an embroidered jacket and black pants, and had an elaborate pin studded with aqua terra jasper stones on her lapel. The other two people were unknown to Emma—a woman with striking white hair who was dressed as meticulously as Eloise, and a gentleman with a gentle mien and a droopy, mottled brown and gray mustache.

  Emma slid into the empty seat and introduced herself. A deck of cards was on the table, separated into two piles. Emma remembered that in euchre, you only used the cards from nine through the face cards.

  The gentleman, who had introduced himself as Robert, asked if he should deal. Everyone was in agreement, and he reached a shaky hand toward one of the piles.

  “So,” Eloise said with obvious relish, “is there any news about Jessica’s death?” She raked in the cards Robert had dealt in front of her. “Or that poor girl who was run over on her bicycle? She was an aide here. I didn’t have much contact with her, but she was nice enough. A terrible end that was not deserved.”

  Emma studied her hand quickly. She shook her head. “Nothing much, really. The police still don’t think the two deaths are connected.”

  Eloise snorted as she threw down a card. “That’s ridiculous. Two people who both worked at Sunny Days suddenly snuffed out? I can’t believe there isn’t a connection.”

  Emma shrugged and tentatively proffered up a card. She wasn’t going to win this game, that was for sure. But she didn’t care. She was here for something very different. Robert put down a card, his face creased in concentration. His eyes darted between Eloise and Emma as if judging their reaction.

  Deborah, the woman with the white hair, slid a card forward casually. She glanced around the room as if she were more interested in what other people were doing than in their card game.

  “You do know that Crystal had a huge dent in the right front fender of her car,” Emma said casually as she threw down the jack of spades. Clubs were trump, and this was the second-highest card in the deck.

  Eloise made a sucking noise under her breath, and Emma knew it wasn’t because she had thrown down the jack.

  “Of course she says she loaned her car to Jessica at lunch and when she came out to the parking lot after work, the damage had been done,” Emma said.

  Eloise tossed out a card that had Robert, her partner, staring at her mutely.

  “I heard the two of them arguing about it,” Eloise said breathlessly as Deborah raked in the winning trick. “Crystal was furious.” She leaned across the table toward Emma, and her gold inlaid pendant swung forward, nearly disturbing the cards. “Jessica kept saying she’d returned the car in perfect working order, but Crystal was having none of it.”

  “Really?” Emma glanced at her new hand of cards, but she was paying far more attention to Eloise’s conversation.

  “Frankly, I think Crystal had had her fill. Jessica treated her like a slave, then Jessica borrows her car and doesn’t even have the decency to own up to the damage.”

  “That might be because Jessica was telling the truth,” Deborah said as she carefully placed a king of diamonds in the center of the table. Her voice was quiet but deep and smoky.

  Emma had to force herself to play it cool. “What makes you think that?” she said as she considered the cards in her hand.

  “I happened to be looking out my window. I have a view of the parking lot.” Deborah made a face. “I told my son I wanted an apartment in the back, but he never could do anything right. Anyway, as Jessica was pulli
ng into the lot and getting out of Crystal’s car, Lotte Fanning was leaving. She stood under the canopy—you know where the big Sunny Days sign is—and watched as Jessica let herself in that side door that’s by her office.”

  Robert cleared his throat tentatively and glanced at Emma. “It’s your turn.”

  “Oh.” Emma threw down the first card she touched, and Robert, who was now her partner, gave her a startled look. She didn’t care.

  “Lotte stood there waiting and watching until Jessica was inside, then she got into her own car and drove around toward where Jessica had parked.”

  By now Emma was holding her breath.

  “Yes?”

  “And then she ran right into Crystal’s front fender. It left a huge dent in both cars, at least as far as I could tell.”

  Emma sat, stunned.

  That explained the dent in Lotte’s car and also the one in Crystal’s. What it didn’t help explain was who had murdered Jessica and who had run Gladys Smit off her bicycle.

  EMMA was about to leave Sunny Days when Sylvia and Earl came up behind her.

  “What’s the matter, kid? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

  Emma gave a bitter laugh. “That’s what it feels like. No, my best friend is fine.” She thought of Liz and mentally crossed her fingers. Liz certainly did seem to be doing better these days. “But two of my murder theories got shot down.”

  “Now that’s bad. Why don’t you come back to my place and tell Auntie Sylvia all about it?”

  Emma followed Sylvia and Earl down the corridor. All the residents were going back to their rooms after the game evening, and it was slow going maneuvering around the walkers and people in wheelchairs. Eloise Montgomery breezed past them, a cloud of French perfume trailing behind her.

  “Make yourself at home.” Sylvia opened the door to her apartment. “How about a cold drink?”

  “Sure. But not vodka. I’m driving.”

  “Too bad. I’ve got some nice Stoli on ice.”

  Sylvia bustled out to the kitchen, and Earl made himself comfortable in the wing chair. Emma got the impression that it was his accustomed spot. Sylvia reappeared with a tray, a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. She set it down on an end table and began to pour. She handed a glass to Emma.

  Emma took a sip of lemonade and turned to Sylvia. “You know, it seems as if your cough is getting better.” She gestured toward the tank parked in a corner of the apartment. “You’re not using your oxygen as much.”

  Sylvia made a face that was halfway between a smile and a grimace. “I can’t smoke in here, you know.”

  Earl jerked his head in Sylvia’s direction. “She’s got to sneak outside for a puff.”

  Sylvia nodded. “Yeah, and sometimes it’s not worth the bother. By the time I get downstairs and out the door, the urge has passed.”

  “So you’ve given it up?”

  “Not exactly, but I’ve sure cut down. Guess the doctor was right, and it wasn’t doing my lungs any good.” Sylvia was quiet for a moment. “But tell us what happened to your theories. I really thought you were onto something.”

  Emma explained about the dents in Lotte’s and Crystal’s cars and how she now knew they had nothing to do with Gladys Smit’s murder.

  “But why would Lotte ram Crystal’s car? They don’t have anything against each other, do they?”

  “No, but Lotte obviously thought it was Jessica’s car, since she was the one driving it. And she certainly had something against Jessica.”

  Sylvia nodded sagely, her long, dangling earrings swinging to and fro. “Never mess with another woman’s man,” Sylvia declared. “You’re asking for trouble.”

  “Especially a Southern woman’s.” Earl stroked his mustache thoughtfully.

  “So you’re back at square one, huh?”

  Emma made a face. “Looks like it.”

  “I’ve got to think that story Jessica told about the old nurse had something to do with it. What do you think?” Sylvia tipped her glass toward Emma.

  “I agree. I wish I could talk to her, but the doctor has ordered no visitors for the near future.”

  Sylvia slapped her knee. “I’ve got it. You can take my book cart and go around for me. They won’t even look at you twice. I go in and out of all the rooms, and no one says a thing.”

  For a wild moment, Emma wondered if she would have to dress up as Sylvia, and she stifled a laugh. “Do you really think it would work?”

  “Sure. We get new volunteers all the time. Besides, the staff have already seen quite a bit of you here volunteering.”

  “But I’ve already been up there, and they might remember that. I told them I was a…relative.”

  “Go at a different time. A new shift will be on.” Sylvia turned toward the small wood cabinet next to her. “Let’s see what the cards say.” She opened the top drawer and pulled out a deck of tarot cards.

  Earl leaned forward expectantly in his chair as Sylvia laid the cards out on the coffee table.

  “I’m doing a simple five-card spread. That ought to give us some answers.”

  Emma found herself holding her breath as Sylvia’s hand hovered over the cards.

  “This is the Future card,” she said, picking up the card on the far right of the middle row. Sylvia turned the card over and collapsed back in her chair as if she’d been shocked.

  “What is it?” Emma felt her stomach churn, which was ridiculous since she didn’t believe in Sylvia’s tarot readings.

  Sylvia showed the card to Earl. His bushy eyebrows shot up like rockets.

  “The Tower,” he said in a soft voice.

  “What does it mean?” Emma asked.

  Sylvia frowned. “There are many ways to interpret this card. Basically, though, it’s about lies and the revelation of the truth.”

  “So maybe…”

  Sylvia nodded. “Yes, I think the old nurse is going to be able to tell us the truth about this whole affair at last.”

  * * *

  SYLVIA arrived at Sweet Nothings the next day shortly after lunch. She didn’t have any bra fittings scheduled, but she was going to help Arabella in the shop while Emma took her turn at Sunny Days with the book cart.

  “It’s parked in the activity room,” Sylvia said, as she settled in behind the counter. “Romances are on the top shelf, mysteries the second and nonfiction and everything else on the bottom.”

  “Do people have to sign for the books?”

  “Nah. They’re donated so it doesn’t matter. Besides, people bring us more all the time.”

  Emma felt a combination of nervousness and excitement as she got into her car and began driving toward Sunny Days. There was a delicious cool breeze, and she rolled down all the windows and let it blow through her hair. She wished she were off on some adventure—preferably with Brian—instead of playing detective. Perhaps when this was all over, they’d be able to do something together again.

  Emma hoped no one would say anything about her taking the book cart around. She was pretty sure Sylvia was right and no one would even notice.

  She found it easily enough—tucked into the back corner of the activity room. It was a little unwieldy—like a grocery cart with a bum wheel—and she wondered how Sylvia managed to push it. Unfortunately, she had to follow Sylvia’s route, which meant starting with the first floor. The nurse, Rosalind Newell, was on the fourth floor, and it would be quite a while before Emma was able to get there. She hoped no one would stop her before she did.

  No one noticed that it wasn’t Sylvia doing the rounds with the book cart. Staff nodded at Emma as she passed, and the residents were far more interested in what volume they were going to pick than who was dragging the cart around. Emma felt like groaning as they carefully examined each title before making a decision. In the end, it took her two hours to get to the fourth floor and the nursing unit.

  Emma forced herself to take the rooms in order. Rosalind, or Rose, as Jessica called her, was in the middle of the hall
way. Fortunately, most of the rooms’ occupants were sleeping, and Emma was able to back the cart out without having to wait for someone to take an endless amount of time to make a decision.

  Rose’s room was across from the nurse’s station, and Emma was relieved to see that a different woman sat behind the computer. She looked up long enough to nod at Emma before going back to the spreadsheet open on her monitor.

  Emma eased the book cart into Rose’s room. The recalcitrant wheels refused to cooperate, and it banged against the door frame. She held her breath, but the woman at the computer didn’t even look up. The rest of the corridor was empty and quiet except for hissing and sighing noises from various machines.

  Rose was propped up in bed, her brilliant white hair spread out across the pillow. Her blue eyes were open and sharp. Emma smiled as she approached the bed.

  “Would you like something to read?”

  Rose smiled sadly. “I’d love to, but the books are too heavy for me to hold. Can you believe that? I have to watch the idiot box if I want to do anything.” She gestured with a thin hand crisscrossed with blue veins at the television mounted in the corner.

  Emma was relieved to note that Rose’s voice was quite strong. She’d been thinking and thinking about how to broach the story Jessica had told but had finally decided that she would simply have to rely on inspiration when the moment presented itself. Inspiration, alas, had deserted her.

  “Is there anything I can get you? Some water?” A tray with the remains of lunch and a plastic glass with a straw sticking out was pushed to one side.

  “Some water, please.”

  Emma held the straw to Rose’s lips, and the woman took several small sips. She smiled. “Thank you.”

  Emma returned the glass to the tray. “Do you get many visitors?”

  Rose smiled sadly. “Hardly any. I’ve outlived most of my friends, and I never did marry or have children, although I saw a lot of babies come into this world.”

  It was the opening Emma had been praying for. She perched on the edge of the plastic chair that was drawn up near the bed.