by Lynn Bohart
“That’s right,” I agreed with a burst of enthusiasm.
Detective Franks gave me a curious look, apologized for the inconvenience, and then he and the other officers fanned out to look for arsenic.
“Oh, my God!” Blair exclaimed, leaning forward to peer after them. “This is like right out of CSI.”
“Don’t be absurd! There’s got to be a perfectly simple explanation,” Rudy said. Then she looked at me. “And tell Chloe that now is not the time to play games.” She returned the dish to the center of the table and let it go.
Doe appeared at the doorway dressed in a black pantsuit and carrying her black leather bag big enough to hold a microwave. For some reason, Doe always looked like she was an attorney on her way to court, carrying enough business folders and paper to sink a battle ship.
“A perfectly simple explanation for what?” she asked, looking behind her at the officer going through the reception desk. “What’s going on? And why are the police here again?”
We explained about the arsenic, and Doe collapsed onto the piano bench, dropping the bag to the floor with a loud thud. I sensed by her reaction that even the union bosses didn’t have that effect on her.
“Where the heck would Martha get arsenic?”
“Not only that,” Blair said, “but did you know that Julia was attacked last night?”
Doe turned to me, her dark eyebrows arched high.
“What?”
I explained again about being attacked at Martha’s the night before. Then I finished with, “Martha also told Emily last weekend that if something were to happen to her within the next couple of weeks, to order an autopsy.”
“Oh, my God,” Doe exhaled softly.
“And now they’ve found poison in Martha’s system,” Rudy said.
“Oh my God,” Doe said again. “What’s going on?”
A banging cupboard rendered us silent as we listened to the officers searching through the kitchen. I couldn’t help but contemplate what the guests might think if one of them were to come back suddenly and find a police car in the driveway. I contemplated going to get Libby or April, but it wasn’t long before I heard one of officers say, “Detective, take a look at this.”
We all stood up and moved like a chain gang into the breakfast room. Rudy put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Detective Franks reappeared through the swinging kitchen door, surprised to find us all standing there. He was holding something that made my heart stop.
“Mrs. Applegate, we found this. You don’t suppose this could be where Mrs. Denton got the chocolate, do you?”
In one hand, he held the gift box I had wrapped for Senator Pesante the weekend before. The wrapping and bow had been torn part way off, and the top of the box was gone.
“Go ahead, make my day,” Ahab squawked from the corner.
Detective Franks turned his very sexy brown eyes in Ahab’s direction and then turned back to me. I glanced inside the box and felt sick to my stomach. Three chunks of fudge were missing, and half of the fourth piece.
“That shouldn’t be open,” I said, gesturing to the box. “It was a gift for Senator Pesante. There was a reception scheduled here in his honor on Wednesday evening. I was going to give it to him then, but he cancelled and I never had the chance.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “And you didn’t open it later?”
“No. I was going to give it to him at the Governor’s New Year’s Eve party instead.”
“What about the fudge?” he asked.
“I have probably ten more boxes behind the desk. We sell it.” I pointed to the reception desk.
“But someone had to have opened it.” He looked around the room.
“It wasn’t any of us,” Rudy said.
Blair and Doe shook their heads and murmured their denials.
“So, you don’t know who opened the box?”
He had a deep, melodic voice, which for some reason made me blush. Stop it! I thought. Focus on the issue at hand.
“No. I swear,” I said, turning away to avoid his gaze.
“I swear on my mother’s life,” Ahab said in the background.
We all ignored him.
“What about Libby?” Rudy asked.
“No,” I shook my head. “She knew it was for the Senator. I can’t imagine who opened it, other than…” I turned back to the detective. “When I went in to get the peach cobbler that day, I almost bumped into Martha coming out of the kitchen licking her fingers. I thought she’d just stuck her finger into Doe’s curry or my cobbler.”
Detective Franks was watching me closely, his very kind eyes squinted in thought.
“This was in the pantry. Why would she have been in there?”
“I don’t know.” I felt the blush deepen as I realized that I could have somehow been responsible for Martha’s death.
“We told you,” Rudy said, stepping forward. “Martha couldn’t seem to sit still. She kept moving around, opening drawers and looking through the baker’s rack.”
“That’s right, Detective,” Doe said. “She wouldn’t even sit with us as we discussed our book list. And I saw her come out of the kitchen, just like Julia said.”
“Was she eating fudge?”
We all looked at each other, but frankly, we were stumped.
“I don’t know,” I said. “She was late that day and said she’d missed lunch and wanted something sweet. So, I gave her some mints. Later, I thought she’d poked her finger into something in the kitchen. I didn’t really pay that much attention, and the girls… well, the girls weren’t really paying any attention to her by that time.”
“Why is that?” he said.
Rudy and Doe shifted uncomfortably, clearly not willing to admit to how José had held their attention. Blair, on the other hand, stepped forward.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, we were preoccupied watching Julia’s maintenance man put up Christmas lights.” She flung her hair back as if she dared anyone to comment. “We may be over fifty, but we’re not dead.”
“Frankly, my dear, I don’t’ give a damn!” Ahab murmured in the background.
All three officers smiled, whether at Ahab or Blair I wasn’t sure, but then quickly tried to hide their amusement. Detective Franks turned to me with a lingering glint of humor in his eyes. As the humor faded, he said, “If this fudge was poisoned and was meant for Senator Pesante, it changes things. I think you’ll need to come down to the police station to answer some questions.”
A ringing in my ears made me lean into him as if I hadn’t heard what he’d said. “Excuse me?”
“It’ll be okay, Julia.” Rudy took my arm again. “Let’s get your purse.”
Rudy started to steer me out of the room, but Detective Franks stopped her.
“Actually, you’ll all need to come to the station. I take it you were all here at the time your friend died?”
Everyone nodded, although reluctantly.
“Well, you may be able to provide important information.” He turned to the other officers. “Officers Barnes and Stimson can take two of you,” he said. “Mrs. Applegate and one other can come with me. I’ll send a couple of officers out to speak to your staff as well,” he said. “We should also take the rest of the fudge with us…just in case.”
My throat tightened at the thought that we were under suspicion.
“Okay,” I squeaked. “If you think that’s necessary. I’ll let everyone know to stick around.”
I pulled out my cell phone to call April at the care center, and then called Crystal over from the front desk where she was huddled in the corner watching us like a scared rabbit. She helped the officers gather up the rest of the fudge and helped them put everything into a box. I didn’t help. I couldn’t. I just stood there in stunned silence, like a toy whose battery had died. Libby clumped down the stairs a few minutes later. She hadn’t fixed her hair and looked paler than normal, but I told her to stick around, and to let José know to stay available for the police later that afterno
on.
Doe and Blair went with the two uniformed officers, while Rudy and I went with the detective. I’m not sure how to describe my feelings about being driven away from my home in a police car. I suppose I should have been humiliated. I knew that not only were the closest neighbors already on their phones reporting the gossip, but Mrs. Devonshire had returned and was standing on the front porch as we departed, leaning on her cane, her eyes narrowed in consternation.
I was more concerned with the fact that Martha might have been poisoned by something found in my pantry. Since I knew I hadn’t supplied the poison myself, it meant that someone else had tampered with it. And that thought made my blood run cold.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The room they took me to at the Mercer Island Police Department was nothing more than an empty conference room with a blackboard, a couple of dented file cabinets, and a water cooler that dripped constantly. Rudy, Doe and Blair were taken…I don’t know…somewhere else. I sat alone for a good twenty minutes listening to that annoying drip, drip, drip before the door finally opened and Detective Franks entered carrying a file folder. He was followed by my daughter, whom I’d called before leaving the inn. Detective Franks looked at me uncomfortably, as if apologizing for the inconvenience.
“Don’t say a word, Mom,” Angela said with a raised hand.
Angela was dressed in a severe-looking black suit, with a white, crew-necked blouse. She called it her uniform. Her long coal-black hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and she had on the pearl stud earrings I’d given her for her birthday. All-in-all, not a bad look if you needed to sign a contract or plan a funeral.
She took the chair next to me and threw a legal pad on the table as she sat down. Detective Franks sat across from me with a manila folder held loosely in his hands. He snuck a glance or two at me and then shifted his eyes back to the table. My muscles tightened and I turned to Angela for comfort. But those dark eyes of hers seemed to peer out from a face cast in stone. She’d told me more than once that the women who worked in the criminal justice system had to prove they could compete with the men. However, I thought a little smile would go a long way in breaking the ice with Detective Franks.
“Thanks for coming, Sweetheart,” I murmured. “I didn’t know if I’d need an attorney.”
“I’m not here as your attorney, Mom,” she stated flatly. “I’m a prosecutor. I’m just sitting in to make sure you don’t hang yourself.”
That smarted. But I suppose I’d earned it over the years. I’d once gone to court to argue a parking ticket only to openly admit that I had, in fact, parked illegally—but just for a moment. The judge wasn’t sympathetic. And when Angela was in the third grade, I inadvertently told her entire class that Santa Claus had been created merely as an advertising ploy back in the 1930s. Children left the room in tears, and the teacher asked me to leave. Angela had a long memory.
As the three of us sat fidgeting, waiting for what I didn’t know, the door opened and a tall drink of water walked in.
The newcomer was probably in his early thirties and over six feet of chiseled masculinity that moved with the kind of fluid grace saved for athletes. His eyes were blue and he wore his brown hair short and a little spikey at the top. And damn if he didn’t have a squared-off, dimpled chin, covered in the five o’clock shadow so popular nowadays. The moment he entered the room the energy noticeably changed, and I felt my temperature rise. I swallowed, more anxious now than ever. Who was this guy?
“Mrs. Applegate,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Detective Sergeant Abrams.”
I shook his hand, and then he pulled out the chair to sit down, resting his forearms on the table. The rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt revealed a tattoo on the underside of his right arm of a five-pointed star with the word RANGER stenciled across it.
“Nice to meet you.” I exhaled slowly to control my breathing.
“This is Angela Applegate,” Detective Franks said, nodding toward my daughter. “She’s with the prosecuting attorney’s office. She’s also Mrs. Applegate’s daughter.”
Detective Abrams shifted his gaze to Angela. “I know the counselor,” he said, his blue eyes dancing.
I turned abruptly to Angela who had dropped her gaze to her notepad. My mouth fell open a notch, as I became acutely aware of the heat rising off her body.
“Nice to see you again, Detective,” she said to the table. “I didn’t realize you had left the Seattle PD.”
I glanced back over at the two detectives. Detective Franks was really quite nice-looking. But sitting next to Detective Abrams, who exuded a kind of celebrity sex appeal, he could have been an accountant with a bunch of pens stuck in his pocket protector. I studied my daughter a moment, and then glanced back to Detective Abrams, who was now smiling to himself.
“I’ve been here about five months,” he said. “Better clientele.” He shifted his gaze to me. “Well, let’s begin.”
I swallowed a hard ball of spit.
“Mrs. Applegate,” he began, “We understand Senator Pesante was scheduled to attend a reception at the inn this week.”
“That’s right.”
“How well do you know the senator?”
My mind really does have a tendency to wander, so I had to force myself to leave the intrigue with my daughter behind and focus my attention on the situation at hand.
“Um…not well at all, really,” I said, sneaking a glance at Detective Franks. “He’s one of the newer state senators. I’ve only met him once or twice. I was asked to host the reception by the chairman of the state democratic party.”
“The senator was in town to promote raising the minimum wage,” he said.
“That was my understanding.”
“It isn’t too popular with the business community, I take it.” He studied me closely.
“That’s probably why he’s on the road promoting it,” I said with a shrug.
My answer was accented with a little more sarcasm than I intended, and Detective Abrams narrowed those blue eyes in response.
“Mrs. Applegate,” Detective Franks cut in. “Are you aware that Senator Pesante is planning to challenge your husband for the governor’s seat in the next primary election?”
I switched my attention to the nice-looking Detective Franks.
“Ex-husband. Yes, I’d heard that through some of my Democratic friends. If you’re implying that I would try to poison someone just because they planned to run against my ex-husband, then there would be any number of people dead already.”
“Correction,” Angela said. “It’s only a rumor at this point that Senator Pesante will run for governor. And, Mom, cool it with the sarcasm,” she whispered to me.
Detective Abrams’ blue eyes shifted to Angela. “We’re not in court, counselor.” He affirmed this quietly, his gaze resting on her a moment longer than necessary.
“I recognize that, Detective,” she said, stiffening. “But I don’t want my mother to admit to actually knowing something that isn’t a fact.”
He nodded towards Detective Franks. “Let’s allow Detective Franks to continue.”
His patronizing tone made Angela clench her jaw.
Detective Franks picked up again. “So, Mrs. Applegate, you would have no reason to harm the senator?”
“Of course not.”
“But you said that if you wanted to kill someone who might challenge your husband in a political race…”
“Ex-husband,” I said again.
“Ex-husband… then several people would be dead already. I see here that you had a run-in with the former state attorney general three years ago, just after he won the Republican primary to run against your husband.”
“I didn’t have a ‘run-in’ with Attorney General Williams,” I countered. “I ran into him—literally—with my car.”
I stopped, realizing how incriminating that sounded.
“My mother was cleared of any charges in that case,” Angela said. “It was an accident and all part of t
he public record.”
“Your mother drove her car into the attorney general,” Detective Abrams snapped.
“There’s a simple explanation,” I said, gaining the floor again in my defense. “I had just gotten my Miata and had only driven it a few times. He was standing right in front of my car down at the Capitol building, talking to Representative Olsen. I thought I’d put the car in reverse, when actually it was still in drive. And, yes, I may have driven into him, but he survived with only a few scrapes and bruises.”
I said this as if not putting him in a wheel chair was a solid defense.
“So, you weren’t taking your anger out on him?” Detective Franks said, prodding me.
“For heaven’s sake, no.” I dismissed his question with a wave of my hand. “I like John. He’s a good man, but he didn’t have a chance in hell of winning against my husband. Everyone knew that.”
“Are you saying you’d only go after someone who might have a chance of beating your husband? Like Senator Pesante?”
Detective Frank’s gaze bored into me, as if he was hoping to break my will. Suddenly, those beautiful brown eyes didn’t look so nice anymore.
“Of course not.” I turned to Angela for help. “Isn’t that leading the witness, or something?”
Angela shook her head in exasperation. “No, Mom, you’re not in court.” She turned to Detective Franks. “Detective,” she said to him in her most belittling tone. “You know you’re only fishing. Let’s get on with trying to find out some real information.”
I glanced at Detective Abrams who couldn’t hide a quick smile as he got up to get a glass of water. He was enjoying this. I was beginning to question my initial thoughts about him, too. He returned to his seat with a paper cup filled with water.
“I believe there was another incident at a dinner party with the mayor of Mercer Island. Something having to do with a burrito?” he said, unable to hide a smile as he raised the cup to take a drink.
Again with the smile. This guy should never play poker. I leaned forward this time.
“I was trying to make a point,” I said. “And threw the burrito…”
