Tainted Teacup

by Michelle Busby

  “I saw it. Very novel.”

  Tommie was silent, not knowing if he meant the display was novel or if he was being clever and trying to make a joke of it being about a book. When he didn’t say anything more, she continued talking about Linda.

  “I heard the back door open, and I tried to look, but I couldn’t see anyone over the bookcases. After I scooted out and turned my sign, I happened to notice Linda leaving out the back door. She said she had an emergency and had to use my bathroom, then she said she was in there hiding from a man.”

  “She told you all this on Monday?”

  “No. Last night at the Catholic Church, at Bingo.”

  “I didn’t know you played Bingo. Are you Catholic?”

  “I don’t. And no, I’m not Catholic. I took Mr. Holmes there to inves … uh … to invite him to play Bingo.”

  “Good save, Tommie, but not good enough. You took him there to investigate Linda Beadwell. Isn’t that what you meant to say?

  “No, no,” she said with a nervous chuckle. “I was only trying to find him something to do, and surprise, surprise. Linda was there, too. We got to talking and she might have let a few things slip.”

  “And you might have helped her along. Lord, Tommie. You are something else.”

  “I wanted to know why she was in my shop before I opened and why she was sneaking around. That’s all.”

  “OK, OK. Do you know if she could have come to the counter by the cups and you didn’t see her?”

  “Sure. I was facing the opposite direction (with my big butt up in the air, she didn’t say), and I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m a little bit height challenged, especially in that position on my hands and knees. If Linda was quiet, I would never have known she was there. I only saw her leave because I turned around from unlocking the door.”

  “Any other people around those cups at any time?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Beverly Cantrell bumped against them when she put her money beside the register at 12:05, and Charles Williams actually put his hands around Coral’s cup at 12:20. I told you that, already.”

  “What about Don Lareby and his sisters?” Earl asked.

  “No. They came in after I had already served Coral. They were nowhere near.”

  “How about Henry?”

  “He came in afterwards, too. Oh my gosh! I meant to check on Henry tonight. He mopped up the tea, and I’m sure he got poison on his hands. I saw him this morning, and he seemed really ill.”

  “He’s doing all right. They checked him out at Floribunda Urgent Care this afternoon. He was pretty sick.”

  “Cyanide poisoning?” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Yes. Transdermal poisoning. It was a good thing Henry went and got himself checked out. The poison had been in his system since Monday. Apparently, your Irish landlord Mr. Holmes called and suggested he go,” Earl confirmed.

  “My gosh. That’s a relief,” she said.

  “Sandy told me you were spared because you used that plastic bag from your pocket to touch the cup and wet napkins. Still, it scared the crap out of me. You’ve got to be more careful, Darlin’. Sometimes the nicest towns have the worst people living in them.”

  “I will, Earl. I promise. What happens now?”

  “We’ll continue our investigation. I have to insist that you work from home, if you can. If you need, I can bring over your unopened herbs from the storeroom for you. We didn’t bother them,” he offered.

  “I have plenty here in my office. Can I make up anything special for you?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yeah. How about fix me a ‘Keep-Tommie-Watson-out-of-Trouble’ potion?”

  “Sorry, that’s a recipe I don’t know how to follow.”

  “I don’t doubt that. Stay out of your shop, Tommie, until I tell you it’s all clear. Can you do that for me?”

  “For you, I absolutely will,” she said with a big smile.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Thursday, Valentine’s Day, would have been a lucrative day for Watson’s, but because her shop would not be open, Tommie decided to give her friend Sarah Beth a gift. After Earl’s phone call, she was no longer tired. The conversation and his sexy voice had inspired her to create some treats that would pair well with coffee. She called Sarah Beth and asked to meet her at Brewster’s in the morning at 5:45. Then, she began prepping.

  She first assembled the makings for Besame Bagel Bites. Besame was Spanish for “kiss me.” Taking the bite-sized premade bagels from the freezer, she laid them on the counter to thaw while she mixed up a sweet syrup of milk, sugar, butter, and poppyseeds. She warmed it over a low heat until it was liquified and set the syrup aside to cool in a lidded glass bowl. In the morning, she would toast the bagels before going to Brewster’s and heat the syrup in Sarah Beth’s microwave for drizzling over the crispy chewy pastries.

  Next, she made her Salty Sweetheart Mix by combining pumpkin seeds, quartered fig filled cookies, dried cranberries, pretzel bits, butter mints, and dark chocolate pieces. After tossing the mixture to distribute the sweet and salty ingredients, she portioned out ¼ cup servings in zipper lock snack bags. Sarah Beth could put them on the tables for the customers to sample while they drank their morning brews.

  Finally, she finished up the Double Sweet Kisses she had planned to serve at her own shop. She melted milk chocolate in a double boiler until it was creamy. Then, she took Hershey’s Kisses candies which had been covered in creamy peanut butter and frozen on baking sheets and set them flat side down on crisscrossed cooling racks. She carefully spooned melted chocolate over them, letting the excess chocolate pool on the baking sheets beneath the candies. She placed the racks and sheets into the refrigerator to harden and set her clock to get up early. She sent Finbar a text telling him she’d be gone in the morning, and then she showered and went to bed.

  When the cuckoo clock on her cell phone sounded the alarm at 5:00, Tommie stumbled around like a boozer with a hangover. She splashed her face with water and brushed her short hair. Putting on a clean pair of red scrubs for the occasion, she depressed the switch on her electric kettle to boil some water for tea. Then, she put the candies in a Rubbermaid canister and placed them in a soft sided cooler, along with the container of syrup and the bagged sweet and salty mix. She prepared herself a cup of Red Rooibos tea with honey and sipped it while she watched the bagels brown up in her countertop convection oven. She wrapped the toasted bagels in a dishtowel and put them in a cloth tote, told the dogs to be good, and headed outside to her car.

  Sarah Beth was waiting for her at 5:45 in the back of the store. They carried the treats inside and sorted them. Tommie heated the syrup in the microwave and carefully drizzled it over the bagel bites, while Sarah Beth stacked the sweet and salty mix bags on the back counter beside the trays of Besame Bagel Bites and Double Sweet Kisses.

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this for me, Tommie. These should’ve been for your customers,” she lamented.

  “Well, if I can’t use them, why shouldn’t you?” Tommie said. “Besides, it makes me feel like I’m working in my own shop, somehow. Are you going to sell them or give them away?”

  “I’m selling them, of course!” she exclaimed, and they both laughed heartily.

  “Look. There’s Charles Williams coming across the street. Oh! There’s Linda Beadwell’s car at the curb. Maybe I should slip into the restroom,” Tommie said.

  “Oh, no, you will not. You can help me behind the counter, if that’s OK,” Sarah Beth said as she turned her sign and unlocked her door. “Large drinks, $7.50; small drinks five bucks. Snacks are listed on the cards beside them. Here we go.”

  Tommie was glad to oblige and, judging from the steady influx of customers at just after 6:00 a.m., Sarah Beth could use the help. After a few minutes, she could see that Sarah Beth had things well under control. She let Tommie take the orders and collect the money while she made the coffees and put them on the pickup counter.

  Charles hung around until
6:30 talking with some of his cronies. Linda stood at the bar with her coffee, chatting with her lady friends. They studiously ignored one another. When Charles finally got to the counter to order, he scowled at Tommie. Linda hurried outside the shop and came back in with a sweater. She frequently narrowed her eyes and glared ominously in Tommie’s direction, who pretended not to notice. As soon as Charles was served, the two of them sat exactly as Sarah Beth had described, on opposite sides of the table, with eight tables between them, covertly making eye contact while having conversation with other patrons nearby.

  At 6:45, Henry Erving entered Brewster’s, escorting Beverly Cantrell. Both Tommie and Sarah Beth were surprised to see them together. Henry was still pale, but he seemed otherwise recovered from his exposure to poison. He put his arm around Beverly’s waist and pulled her up to the counter.

  “I’ll have my usual,” he said to Tommie.

  “And that would be?” she asked.

  He gave her a perplexed look. Realizing she was not Sarah Beth, he clarified his order. “I’ll have a large black coffee with two squirts of whipped cream.”

  “I got it,” Sarah Beth called.

  “I’ve never really had a taste for coffee,” Beverly said. “I don’t even know what to order. Maybe I’ll just have water.”

  “No, I want you to have coffee. You’ll like it. I promise. Pick something,” he urged.

  “I don’t know what they are,” she said with a whine.

  Henry appeared flustered. “It’s coffee, Bev. Do you like things sweet or more bitter?” he asked.

  “I sure don’t like bitter. Something sweet,” she said.

  “She’ll have a caramel latte with two whips,” he ordered, “and give us two of each of those treats back there.”

  Suddenly, the shop got extra busy.

  “Hurry up, Henry. Hey, I need a refill on my black and tan, Sarah Beth,” Charles said, pushing his way in line behind Beverly.

  “Hey, watch it. Other people have to order, you know,” a man behind him in line said. “I want four of those bagel bites to go.”

  “I want a large triple espresso with milk and six kisses,” a woman called. “Make it a takeout.”

  “Make mine a cappuccino, decaf, with three of those bagels,” another one said. “For here. No, better get it to go.”

  “Salty Sweetheart Mix, please. Make it two, with two espressos in disposable cups with lids.”

  Tommie tried valiantly to keep up, but Sarah Beth had to step in and rescue her. “Large black, two whips, in the house. Caramel latte, two whips, in the house. Black and Tan tall, in the house. Triple black and moo, with legs. Unleaded cappu, with legs. Two short blacks, with legs. Coming up,” she called, grabbing multiple mugs and filling them quickly. “Tommie, you take care of the food things and man the cash register while I do the drinks.”

  Tommie was happy to oblige, not knowing the names of the specialty coffees that were being shouted out. She was struck by the difference between coffee drinkers and tea drinkers. Her patrons were relaxed, polite, and courteous. These people were like shoppers at a blue light special trying to be the first ones to get the deals. They jostled each other in line, and Charles bumped Henry, who was holding both his and Beverly’s mugs, almost making him spill them.

  At 6:50, Finbar entered the shop. Tommie was glad to see him but surprised. When he got to the now empty counter, he ordered a small black coffee. “I took an Uber. Thought it would be interesting to see things firsthand.”

  “It’s crazy!” Tommie said. “Too stressful for me. That last bunch was the longest five minutes I’ve ever spent!”

  “Sure, sure. It’s what people get used to. Ah, look. There’s Mr. Erving. He looks to be in better health today.”

  “Thanks to you calling him,” Tommie said.

  “Didn’t want him to die on us,” Finbar said, making his way over to the table next to Henry and Beverly.

  “C’mon, Beverly. It should be cool enough now. Just take little sips,” Henry said, encouraging Beverly to drink.

  “It’s bitter tasting, Henry. I thought it would be sweeter,” she said, wrinkling up her nose.

  “Here, I’ve got an idea,” he said. He picked the chocolate pieces out of the sweet and salty mix and dropped them in her mug, stirring them with a disposable spoon. “Try it now with the chocolate melted in.”

  Beverly took a tentative sip and gave a wan smile. “That’s a little better. Maybe a bit more sugar?” she said.

  Henry hopped up and retrieved three sugar packets from the self-serve counter. She gratefully took them and added all three to her mug. She took another sip.

  “It’s much better, Henry. That is so gallant of you.”

  “Drink up, Bev. We can come here for coffee together every morning. It’ll be fun.”

  “All right, Henry. If you say so,” she agreed, sipping from her oversize mug. A fine sheen of sweat appeared on her upper lip, and her cheeks grew even rosier beneath her makeup.

  “Good morning, Miss Cantrell. Henry,” Finbar said.

  “Nice to see you, Finbar. Thanks for calling me yesterday. I guess I was sicker than I thought,” Henry said.

  “You were sick yesterday, Henry?” Beverly asked, taking a big swallow of her latte.

  “I was. Turns out there was poison in Coral’s tea, and I got it on my hands when I was cleaning it up. It made me pretty ill, but I’m all right now,” he said.

  “That’s good,” she shook her head slightly. “Henry, would you get me another one of those bagels? I haven’t eaten any breakfast, and I worked out hard at the gym this morning. I’m a little lightheaded. I could use some food in my stomach.”

  “Right away, Bev,” he said, going to the counter.

  “Miss Cantrell. You do seem a little woozy. Perhaps you’re not used to the amount of caffeine there is in coffee. It’s more than what’s in tea,” Finbar said, patting her hand.

  “I guess not. I do feel pretty amped up, like doing an aerobic workout.”

  “Here you go, Bev. Dip it in your coffee. It’s really good that way,” Henry suggested.

  Beverly complied. She broke the pastry in half and dunked it, then chewed it appreciatively. “It’s really good. You’re right.”

  Beverly took two more big swallows of her coffee and slid sideways out of the chair. Finbar grabbed for her arm and caught her just before she landed on the floor. Leaning his head on her chest, he could tell she was not breathing, so he began chest compressions.

  Tommie whipped out her phone and immediately called 9-1-1. She saw several things seemingly at once, like pictures from a slide projector: Sarah Beth was pressed up to the front counter, her eyes wide, her hand to her mouth; Finbar was pushing rhythmically on Beverly’s chest while her head lolled to the side; Henry Erving was crumpled across the table in distress; Linda Beadwell and Charles Williams were standing close together in the back by the restroom; and Beverly Cantrell was prostrate on the floor, her eyes staring sightless toward Tommie, her face a bright cherry red.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tommie and Finbar sat in two chairs in Brewster’s guarding the spot where Beverly Cantrell had lain and where her coffee spilled. The EMTs had already removed her body and transported it to the coroner’s office four blocks away. Once again, the lights were on, but the siren was not. It was no surprise; Finbar knew she was dead even as he performed CPR.

  Sarah Beth walked back and forth behind the counter shaking her head in distress, a notepad in her hand, trying to recall who had been in the shop for coffee and had left during the one hour in which she had been opened. Tommie could hear her using her own version of barista-speak. “Two blacks, tall, with legs—Sid and Jeanette Spock. Short latte, in the house—Sam Hamilton. Red Eye—Larry Brown. With legs or in the house? I can’t remember. Café au Lait, in the house—Linda Beadwell. Short, flat, with legs—that guy with the big mustache, don’t know his name. Black and Tan, tall, in the house—Charles Williams. Two Americanos, with legs—Elly Jam
es and Jo Clay. Large black, two whips, in the house—Henry Erving. Caramel latte, two whips, in the house—Beverly Cantrell. Black and Tan tall refill, in the house—Charles. Triple black and moo, with legs—Father Duncan. Unleaded cappu, with legs—Louanne Weller. Two short blacks, with legs—Nelson Stone. Short black, in the house—Mr. Holmes.”

  Henry Erving was still in his seat against the wall, and Charles and Linda had taken chairs across from one another with only two tables in between. When the Police arrived, Earl spotted Tommie and dropped his chin to his chest with a huge sigh, slowly shaking his silver head from side to side.

  “Trouble follows you like Ziggy with a cloud over his head,” he muttered.

  Tommie shrugged her shoulders and frowned.

  Earl surveyed the room. “Well, well. Hello again, Henry. And you, too, Charles. Who wants to go first?”

  Nobody offered, so he selected Finbar.

  “I don’t believe I’ve met you, sir. Would you, by any chance, be Ms. Watson’s new landlord, from Ireland?”

  “I am. My name is Finbar Holmes. How d’you do?”

  “I’ve been much, much better. OK, Mr. Holmes. How about you come with me into the storage room and we’ll have a little chat,” Earl said, walking toward the back. “All the rest of you stay right where you are. Dale, see to it nobody leaves, blah, blah, blah. You know the drill. Jenny, you come on into the storeroom with me as a witness like last time, so I’m not alone with anyone.”

  Tommie sat woodenly, carefully avoiding the coffee on the floor and the table. She flexed her toes, wishing she had something on which to prop her leg. After a few minutes, Finbar and Earl returned. Tommie raised her hand.

  “Ms. Watson. Come on in here. Let’s get you taken care of,” Earl said. His face reflected frustration at seeing her in the midst of yet another crime scene. Guess I’ll have to cross Earl off my list of dating prospects, Tommie thought as she entered the storeroom.

  While she was being questioned by the policeman and his partner, Finbar kept an eye on the suspects in the coffee shop. Henry seemed to be in shock. His face was pale, and he was breathing raggedly. Finbar was afraid he had been in contact with the poison again.