“But doesn’t it make him look bad?” I said. “To have his lobster roll poison those people?”
Bliss swayed toward me. “Oh, come on. It’s brilliant. Who’d believe he’d poison his own lobster roll? He could reopen under another name. You’re his alibi, right?” She smirked. “You played right into his hands.”
She took another drink. “Genius. Nobody was watching him every minute. Nobody.” Bliss sneered. “He could’ve paid somebody. Some volunteer, right? There were plenty of them all over the place in their little black T-shirts. Security was a joke. And Ernie has plenty of money to pay somebody off. That tacky Kahuna’s Kove’s one of the most expensive houses on Fox Point.”
Paying someone to poison the lobster rolls? “But—”
Bliss cut me off. She waved her glass at the bartender. “Genius.”
* * *
Bliss slinked toward the bathroom. The bartender offered to refill my wine glass but I waved him off.
Did Ernie pay someone to poison the rolls? Could someone else have done the same? Chick? Paul Pond? The lobster libbers?
Paul seemed so decent. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where he’d hurt someone to further his own business. Chick, on the other hand. I scanned the room, but didn’t see him. Maybe he went back to Chatham.
Could it have been as easy as paying one of the volunteers to poison the rolls?
Maybe someone who got a bad review from Rick and Rio?
A disgruntled actor who had a beef with Contessa?
I kept coming back to that night at Edwards Point. The sound of Megan weeping. The way Chick held her wrists, her body dangling limp, like a puppet. Could he have forced her to poison the rolls? Chick had something on Megan. But what? I had to find out.
Verity materialized at my side and handed me a plate of hors d’oeuvres.
“If Juliet used the money I paid to fund this shindig, I say it’s money well spent. Look at these mini spring rolls.”
“Verity, we have to go to the hospital.”
“What! Do you feel okay?”
I shook my head. “I have to talk to Megan Moss.”
Chapter 32
“The Mayor confirmed my suspicions. Ernie was the guy they found in the lobster shed,” I said as Verity and I cut through the crowd. “I’m sure Megan will be by his side at the hospital.”
“Did you find out anything to help Aunt Gully?” Verity asked.
I remembered what the mayor had said. “All I have is questions. Let’s find a ride.” We hurried out the front door.
“We could call Lorel,” Verity said.
“She’d just drive me directly to the police station. I need to ask more questions first.”
A Mystic Bay cruiser pulled into the parking lot. “Oh, great. Duck.”
We scurried around the building as the cruiser pulled up to the front doors. Bliss Packer slinked out, talking on her cell. The officer called to her and she went over to the car.
“I was just talking to Bliss.” I groaned.
Bliss waved the officer off with a shrug. He parked and headed toward the doors.
“Now what?” Verity asked.
“Let’s cut through the administration building. There’s an exit through the dance studio to Gruber Farm Lane.”
We scurried across the parking lot. Nobody was at the reception desk of the administration building. The underpaid staff would be taking advantage of the free buffet and open bar at the reception.
Since the administration building also housed the dance studio, I’d been here many times. We cut through the dance studio to a parking lot that flowed into a narrow lane shaded by dogwood trees and bordered on one side by a picture-perfect stone wall.
“Now what?” Verity said.
“Let’s just get as far away as we can.”
We hurried down the lane. Hurrying was no problem for me, although I cursed my boot as it slowed me down. Verity huffed next to me, sweat beading her forehead. She stopped to kick off her pumps. Though she’d earned a black belt in karate as a teen, now Verity’s idea of exercise was shopping.
“Just call Lorel.” Verity fanned herself with her clutch purse.
“You know what a rule follower she is. She’ll take me right to the police herself.”
“Maybe not this time.” Verity dialed. I grabbed her hand.
“No! I’ll call Hilda.” Hilda was a perfectly law-abiding woman, but she would understand that I was avoiding the police so I could help Aunt Gully.
“Look!” The police car slid through the parking lot behind us. “Quick!” I tugged Verity’s hand and jumped up on the wall. Well, I jumped up. Verity climbed to her knees, then clambered up and knocked us both over.
* * *
“Ugh!” I pushed myself up to a sitting position, brushing dirt from my dress. I took stock. Nothing broken or twisted. Luckily I’d avoided landing on my injured ankle.
“Ouch.” Verity sprawled facedown in patchy grass.
We scooted to our knees by the wall and watched the police car cruise past.
“That was close,” I said.
“I’ll say.” Verity jutted her chin at a mushy brown pile. “That’s a cow pie.”
We squealed as we checked ourselves for contact with it.
“I cannot believe this.” Verity brushed at her skirt and straightened her hat. “I wish we were back in that nice, clean, cow-free building eating that nice food.”
“And drinking nice wine.” I fanned myself with my hat. “Come on, Verity. Courage.”
“Courage, my Aunt Fanny. Let’s get Hilda over here pronto.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Hilda’s green VW Bug pulled into the lane and we hopped in.
“Hilda, you’re a lifesaver.” I tucked my full skirt around my legs and closed the door.
“Bless you,” Verity said. She pulled a leaf from the netting of her half-veil.
“Now, I don’t know where you girls want to go”—Hilda glanced in the rearview mirror—“but there’s a police car at the Mermaid.”
“And probably one at Gull’s Nest,” I said.
Hilda’s VW sputtered as it took the curves of a hill past a vista of fields and stone walls.
“Hey look, we’re going by the Happy Farmer,” Verity said. “Hilda, would you please pull in? I’m parched.”
“Yes, please, turn right here, Hilda. We need to regroup.” I figured nobody at the Happy Farmer would know or care that the police were looking for me.
In addition to fruits and vegetables, the Happy Farmer sold honey and candles from their bees, butter and milk from their cows, and organic treats from their bakery. They also bottled their own spring water. Verity hurried in.
The Happy Farmers worked their image pretty hard. All the men wore long beards and man buns. The women wore their hair in braids, often looped on their heads. This patch of land had long been an outpost of the counterculture. Over the years, whatever the culture was, the Happy Farmers were counter to it.
I turned to Hilda. “So what’s happening?”
Hilda brushed a smudge of dirt from my cheek then threw up her hands. “What isn’t happening? First your aunt’s taken by the police. And now they want you!”
Hilda’s big brown eyes filled with tears. I squeezed her hand.
“And it’s just awful to think someone was injured in our building like that,” Hilda said.
“Officially, it’s Ernie Moss,” I said. “I talked to the mayor.”
“What was he doing in our lobster shed?” Hilda exclaimed. “Do the police think you had something to do with that?”
I shook my head. “No, I think it’s about the mess at the food festival.”
Hilda eyed my dress. “So I’m guessing you went to the funeral.”
“I thought maybe I could find out something that would help Aunt Gully.”
“She’s innocent.” Hilda’s round face beamed with certainty. “It’ll come out. We must have faith.”
“Sometimes faith needs a
little help, Hilda. Could you drive us to the hospital? I want to talk to Megan Moss. I’m sure she’s at Ernie’s bedside. She might be able to explain what’s going on. And prove that Aunt Gully’s innocent.”
“Anything to help Aunt Gully.” Hilda smiled. “Besides, playing detective with you girls is more fun than waiting at the police station.”
Verity opened the back door. “Geez, you’d think these happy farmers would actually be happy.” She handed Hilda and me glass bottles of artisanal spring water. “They’re all crabbing about the spa. Going to take away their grazing land, they said.”
“We almost landed in some of their cow pies.” I took a sip. “But that isn’t their land. It’s the Jake’s.”
Hilda turned back toward town. “They let their cows roam everywhere.”
Minutes later, Hilda’s VW passed construction equipment parked by the side of the road. A chain-link fence closed off a rutted dirt lane. “That’s the old Gruber place, right?” Hilda slowed. “Rick and Rio want to build a spa out here.”
NO TRESPASSING signs were posted on the gates.
Hilda pulled back onto the road. “Nobody’s lived there in years.” Several tumbledown buildings hulked just past walls topped by rusty barbed wire.
“Rich people at a fancy spa aren’t going to want cows wandering all over,” I said.
Hilda shook her head. “Too bad for those Happy Farmer cows.”
“And those Happy Farmers,” Verity said. “Oh! I’ve got it. Maybe the Happy Farmers poisoned the lobster rolls. They wanted to stop Rio’s spa. If the spa goes in, they won’t be able to let their cows roam on her property.”
“I don’t know, Verity,” Hilda said.
“Wait a minute. The Happy Farmer had a booth at the food festival! And—” I shifted in my seat. “Look at all those fields. I bet monkshood grows there!”
“Wait a sec. Don’t you think they’ll benefit from having the spa next door?” Hilda said. “They sell organic food. The spa will serve organic food. Seems like win-win to me, and they’d like to be on Rio’s good side.”
Verity folded her arms. “Stop making sense, Hilda. I liked my theory.”
I laughed. “I like your theory better than the cops’ theory. That Aunt Gully poisoned all those people to ruin Kahuna’s and have all the lobster business in Mystic Bay to herself.”
“That kind of makes sense,” Verity said, busily looking in her handbag.
I stared out the window. “I know. It does.”
“Don’t talk like that! It’s ridiculous!” Hilda patted my knee and swerved.
“Thank you, Hilda.”
Hilda steered her VW into the hospital parking lot.
“If only we could convince the police of that,” I said.
Chapter 33
Once again a TV news truck hunkered in front of Mystic Bay Hospital. A police cruiser was parked next to it.
I slid down in the front seat and directed Hilda to the back parking lot. I didn’t want to go through the front door, right in front of reporters who’d just been at Contessa’s burial service. In our vintage black dresses, Verity and I couldn’t be any more conspicuous.
Hilda parked.
“What’s the plan?” Verity lay across the back seat.
“Well, if Aunt Gully were here, she’d call Mrs. Yardley, who would probably let us in. But I don’t have her number.”
Hilda fished in her purse. “I have a friend who works in Maternity. I’ll see if she’ll meet us at a back door and bring us up to Ernie and Megan.”
“Thanks, Hilda.”
While Hilda called, I scanned the parking lot for police cars. I couldn’t wait to talk to Megan.
“She’s so invisible,” Verity said.
“Are you reading my mind again?” I said.
“If you’re thinking of Megan Moss.”
I sighed. “I cleared Ernie and now the police have glommed onto Aunt Gully.”
“Well, I hate to say it, but she has a better motive than Ernie or Megan ruining their own lobster business. I mean—” Verity covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re right.” I took off my hat. “But after what I heard Megan and Chick talking about—”
Hilda hung up. “What did you hear Megan and Chick talking about?”
I told Hilda what I’d heard at Edwards Inlet.
“That’s terrible.” Hilda tsked. “My friend said she’ll take us to see Megan. We have to meet her at the loading dock.”
* * *
We climbed cracked cement steps to a loading dock. Two women in scrubs surreptitiously smoked cigarettes at a picnic table on a sparse patch of grass. A dented metal door opened at the top of the steps and a woman with curly blond hair leaned out.
“Hilda!”
“Katie!”
Katie wore cheerful scrubs, pink pants and a top with teddy bears.
Hilda hugged her. “Do you know Allie and Verity?”
We all said hello as Katie led us through fluorescent-lit hallways. Katie walked with a cheerful bounce and everything she said seemed to have an exclamation point at the end. “There’s a lull upstairs in babies coming, so I’m happy to see you!”
We headed toward the same elevator bank we’d used to visit the mayor.
“Things had quieted down when Rick and Rio and the mayor left! Well, the mayor, eh.” Katie waggled her hand back and forth. “With Rick and Rio—whoa! We had people trying to sneak into their room! A staffer tried to take pictures of them in their beds, can you believe it?”
Hilda shook her head.
“We were just getting back to normal, and then Ernie Moss came in, and the news trucks are back! It’s nice that you’re here! Poor Ernie was unconscious. Now he’s sleeping, but Megan’s all by herself.” Katie’s voice modulated. “All alone. My friends in ICU say she needs someone to sit with her.”
“We’re happy to do that,” Hilda said.
“What’re you going to say to Megan?” Verity whispered.
“No idea.” My stomach churned. I had no right to stick my nose into what was very personal and painful business. But I had to. I had to help Aunt Gully.
My heart rate kicked up. Asking Megan about Chick would mean admitting I’d witnessed that terrible scene on the beach.
“Has Megan eaten, do you think?” Hilda turned to Verity and me. “Let’s bring her a sandwich from the cafeteria.”
“Great idea!” Katie said.
I froze. Walking into the cafeteria where lots of people could see me didn’t seem like a great idea. What if there were police officers there?
“I’ll go. You guys wait,” Verity said.
“Can we step in here a moment?” Hilda nodded toward an empty lounge.
“Be right back.” Verity hurried down the hall and a few minutes later she returned with fruit salad, a turkey sandwich, water, and some cookies.
As we rode up in the elevator, Hilda and Katie chattered about kids, pets, and knitting club while my stomach lurched.
“I’ll tell Megan she has friends waiting to see her.” Katie went down the row of ICU cubicles and ducked into one. I felt like a fraud. “Friend” was stretching it.
“Oh, I do want to see how Megan is,” Hilda said. Hilda had no qualms about being there. After hearing that Megan was alone and needed sustenance, she kicked into the same helper gear that Aunt Gully did.
A television, computer, chairs, and couch were set up in a quiet corner for visitors. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as we took seats.
Verity unwrapped the cookies and nibbled one. “Oops, sorry! I eat when I’m nervous. I’ll go get some more. Be right back.”
Down the hall, Katie and Megan Moss emerged from one of the ICU cubicles.
Hilda hurried toward Megan. I followed slowly.
Megan turned her head. Her eyes were wide, searching, tired. She looked lost.
“Oh, hi.” She raised a hand. “Allie, right? And, and, Hilda.”
“Hi.�
��
Katie waved good-bye and walked to the elevators.
Hilda went to Megan and put an arm around her, murmuring, “How are you?”
Megan sagged in Hilda’s arms. “Tired.”
“How’s Ernie?” I whispered.
Megan’s arms wrapped around her stomach. “Still barely conscious, but the doctors said they’re optimistic. They’ve upgraded him.”
“Good.” Hilda led Megan to the couch. “Come sit for a moment.”
Megan didn’t protest. I offered the sandwich and fruit.
Megan took them gratefully. “I’ve been too stressed to eat and then all of a sudden I realized I was starving. I was getting dizzy.”
“When did you eat last?” I asked.
“I don’t remember.” Megan started to open the fruit cup, but her hands shook so badly I unwrapped it for her. Tears spattered Megan’s cheeks and she wiped them with the back of her hand.
“You guys are so kind.” She made a little hiccup sound, then started weeping.
Good grief. Hilda pulled Megan to her shoulder and let her sob. She patted Megan’s back and rocked her, and made soothing, clucking noises. “There, there.”
What on earth could I do? I unwrapped the sandwich and put it on the table next to the fruit cup. What would Aunt Gully do? I texted Verity.
GET SOME TEA. WITH SUGAR.
A few minutes later, the storm of Megan’s sobbing passed. Hilda pulled tissues from her purse and handed them to Megan. Megan wiped her face. “I’m a mess.”
Verity’s pumps clacked as she arrived with the tea and cookies. I took the tea from her and handed it to Megan. “Try this.”
Megan sipped. After a few moments, palest pink bloomed in her cheeks. With a shock I realized that even in the harsh fluorescent light, under the lank hair and with no makeup, Megan Moss was beautiful. It was the nonflashy beauty of a statue of a Madonna, with a smooth curved face and thin but shapely lips. Her large, almond-shaped eyes were spring ocean blue, her skin pale and smooth as milk. Her ears were pretty, small, and shell pink.
But Megan’s nails were bitten to the quick, and her shoulders slumped forward, as if she didn’t have the energy to stand up straight. To stand up for herself.
Curses, Boiled Again! Page 17
