Tainted Teacup

by Michelle Busby

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The Lunch Pad was little more than a hole in the wall with a themed décor. As soon as they entered, Tommie was able to see Finbar in full Irish food inspector mode. He swept his eyes all around the diner and took in the floors, the walls, the table settings, and the service staff. They were led to a round table that sat six, and napkin-wrapped cutlery was deposited at each place setting, along with laminated menus.

  Finbar smiled at the waitress who brought them glasses of ice water and attempted to look pleasant.

  “Lass, could you bring us several more napkins and an additional glass of water with no ice, please?” he asked.

  When the waitress returned, he thanked her, then he immediately took two napkins and dipped them into the extra water glass. After carefully, but vigorously wiping the table at both his and Tommie’s place, he dried the areas with more napkins and pushed them to the side. Then, he repeated the process with the silverware and the menus before depositing all the used napkins into the glass of water. He signaled the girl, and when she came over, he handed her the glass.

  “I’m very sorry. We had a spill,” he managed.

  “No problem. Ready to order yet?”

  “No, we are waiting for some others. Oh, here they are. Please give us a few moments.” He waved at Don and the sisters, and they joined them at the table.

  “I’m so glad you called, Tommie,” Don said.

  “Yes, we are. How are you, Mr. Holmes, I mean Finbar,” Susan said with a giggle.

  “Quite well, lass. And the two of ye’re lookin’ lovely as ever. Tell me what’s tasty in this place.” The exaggerated accent was back strong as before as the space suited waitress waited to take their orders.

  “I like the Rocket Rueben with Meteor Mustard. It’s especially tangy, and the pickles are nice and crisp,” Elaine said.

  “It’s the Full Moon Swiss Cheese Melt for me,” Susan said, “with the Venus Vegetables of the day.”

  “I always get the same thing, the French Big Dipper with a side of Sputnik Spuds. They’re really French fries,” he confided to Finbar.

  “How about you, missus Thomasina. What catches yer fancy?” Finbar asked with raised eyebrows.

  “I believe I will have the Satellite Salad with Crater Croutons,” she said, trying valiantly not to laugh. And I thought my food names were funny.

  “So many choices. I shall try the Orbit Omelet with Hubble Ham. Sounds lovely. Great place you’ve picked out.”

  “We like it—especially the novel names Sid and Jeanette Spock give to all the dishes. It’s so clever,” Elaine said.

  “So, tell me Finbar, I hear there was some excitement at Brewster’s Coffee Shoppe yesterday. Another murder,” Don said, “and on the heels of the other one right next door.”

  “Yes, it seems Miss Beverly Cantrell got hold of poisoned coffee. What d’you make of that?” Finbar replied.

  “Something fishy about it. You know she’s a tea drinker, don’t you Tommie. She’s been in your shop lots of times. Why on earth would she get coffee?” Susan remarked.

  “Because of our Henry Erving, Sister. And him just coming off of his obsession with Coral Beadwell,” Elaine said.

  “Do you think he did it?” Tommie asked.

  “Not me. I think Charles Williams and Linda Beadwell had a hand in that one,” Susan said.

  “Why?” Tommie asked.

  “To keep from splitting that commission, of course.”

  “But Sister, how did they know she would be there?” Elaine asked. “Henry’s the only one who knew. He brought her and ordered her coffee.”

  “But why?” Tommie asked.

  “To get back at her for killing Coral. I think Beverly got rid of Coral so she could make hoo-hoo with Henry.”

  “But to murder her?” Tommie prompted.

  “No, no, no. You’re both wrong,” Don said. “It was Charles and Linda for sure. They needed to shut Beverly up.”

  “About what?” Finbar asked.

  “About the affair, for one thing. Coral and Beverly both knew about it. And to cover up his little side business. They both knew about that, too.”

  “Side business?” Finbar questioned.

  Don and his sisters looked at one another, and then the three of them leaned in closer to the table and lowered their voices dramatically.

  “Charles had a side business going. Pharmaceuticals. He got weekly deliveries at the UPS Store. Coral—we know she was a snoopy woman—she ‘damaged’ packages when she wanted to see what was in them. Charles caught her doing it. She knew what he was getting every week,” Don said.

  “She threatened to tell if he didn’t throw some extra cash her way,” Susan said.

  “No!” Tommie exclaimed.

  “Yes! Beverly, too. I heard she had a bag of something that was in one of Charles’ packages hidden in her locked desk drawer. Henry gave it to her. Drugs,” Elaine said.

  “Why would Charlie be getting drugs?” Finbar asked.

  “I heard from a guy in my poker group that he supplied a cousin or a nephew in another city who sold them.”

  “What kind? Heroin? Cocaine?” Finbar asked.

  “No, prescription meds, like Ritalin, Celexa, Prozac, and Adderall. The kids buy them up like crazy,” Don said.

  “I’m in shock,” Tommie said.

  “And did you know that Linda Beadwell’s husband is a pharmacist? That’s right. He runs the Floribunda Rx-All. I would not be surprised if he got some of those ‘discount’ designer drugs, too,” Susan said.

  “I did not know that,” Tommie admitted. “A pharmacist, huh? What are those drugs used for?”

  “College kids take them to get high or to help them study. Ritalin and Adderall keep them awake. They’re legal amphetamines for children with ADHD to slow them down. Works differently in people with attention deficit,” Don said.

  “And Celexa is for depression. So is Prozac. It’s also an adult medication for OCD,” Elaine said.

  “I know what Tylenol is, and that’s about it. They gave me something from the hospital for the broken ankle pain that was really strong, but it caused me to have respiratory distress,” Tommie said.

  “Oohh. That sounds like Ultracet. You don’t want to take that. Powerful stuff,” Elaine confirmed.

  “Yeah, I remember. But how do you know all that?”

  “My first husband was a psychiatrist, so he prescribed them,” Elaine admitted.

  “And my second husband was a pharmacist, so he dispensed them,” Susan said.

  “And my daughter told me a lot of the high school and college kids take meds for various mental and emotional disorders, and so do a lot of adults around here,” Don said. “My poker buddies told me about some of them. Thomas Beadwell’s daughter in college from his first marriage has OCD—obsessive compulsive disorder. She takes Prozac. Gary Brewster takes Haldol for bipolar disorder, and his son takes Citalopram for his depression. I can’t begin to tell you all the people on Opioids! Beverly Cantrell took some kind of amphetamine for weight loss.”

  “That’s phentermine,” Susan said. “Sister and I took it long years ago with fenfluramine. They called it fen-phen. We didn’t know at the time it could damage your heart. Live and learn, huh?”

  “Yes, I’d rather be a living pudgy woman than a dead skinny one,” Elaine said, and both sisters erupted in laughter.

  The food arrived, and the five of them ate quickly with sporadic conversation. Afterwards, Finbar picked up the check and left a generous tip, which delighted Don and impressed the sisters even more with him. They parted, promising to do it another time, and the two amateur sleuths went back to Tommie’s shop, where she fixed them both a tonic for dyspepsia.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Henry Erving was glad to see Finbar arrive at the UPS Store. Even though his new girlfriend had just died, he was less upset than when Coral died, but perhaps he was still in shock. In light of the conversation with Don and his sisters, Finbar had a
clear line of questioning he wished to pursue with Henry.

  “Where’s your sidekick?” Henry asked.

  “You mean Ms. Watson? She is at her shop cleaning away. They released it as a crime scene. How are you holding up, lad?” Holmes asked.

  “All right. At least I didn’t touch the poisoned coffee this time, but I hate that I made her drink it. I had no way of knowing it had been poisoned.”

  “D’you feel you forced her to drink it?”

  “Forced is a mighty strong term. I encouraged her. I thought, somehow, we could create a kind of bond … have a place we could enjoy each other’s company. I was trying to find some common ground to build a relationship on. I’m 61 years old, and my prospects are dwindling. Bev was younger and so pretty, and for some reason, she wanted to be with me. Go figure. I thought maybe I could build a life with her.” He sighed sadly.

  “No, I don’t believe you forced her, lad. Yer instincts were honorable. Unfortunately, there is a devious killer about. Why would someone wish to harm a lovely lady like Miss Cantrell, d’you think?”

  “I have no idea. She really was a wonderful woman. Kind, attentive, attractive. In truth, everything Coral was not.”

  “Ah, sure. Who’s to say who and how we love, eh?”

  “That’s a good way to put it.”

  “Henry, d’you like Ms. Watson?”

  “Um, you mean as a person or as someone to date?”

  “No, no. As a person.”

  “I do like her. She’s always been kind to me; she’s not judgmental. Coral told me many times how glad she was to have a friend like Ms. Watson. She was especially nice to her.”

  “What about Mrs. Brewster?”

  “Oh, she’s the best. And so competent. There could be 20 people in there calling out orders, and she’d never miss a single one. I like both those ladies.”

  His glowing compliments struck Finbar as sincere. He could not imagine Henry Erving as a killer or a conspirator, and it made him feel like the man could become a good friend.

  “What brings you over here today, Finbar? Do you have something to ship?”

  “No, lad. I come to check on you. And I brought you some Guinness in the can. Comes from Ireland, you know.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. It’s a favorite drink of mine, but not many people around here like it. How did you know?”

  “How could it not be yer favorite? Yer name comes from the Gaelic O hEireamhóin, does it not? The very root of the name of Ireland. How could you not love Guinness?”

  “Does it? How exciting to know that! Thank you, Finbar. I appreciate your consideration.”

  “Think nothing of it, Henry. I was going to give a pint to Charlie-boy next door, but I’ve changed my mind. He’s a foul-tempered git, isn’t he, and I don’t like what I hear of how he treated both of yer lady friends.”

  “He was awful to Coral, that’s for sure,” Henry agreed, “and to Beverly, too.”

  “What was his problem, d’you think? Was it because his packages turned up damaged sometimes? That happens with all parcel couriers.”

  “That’s true, especially when they come from someplace like Mexico.”

  “Mexico, you say? What d’you suppose Mr. Charlie Williams was getting from Mexico?”

  Henry looked around to be sure they were alone and then leaned in conspiratorially. “He was getting drugs from there, every week. I’m sure of it.”

  “You don’t say. How can you be sure?”

  “Once, when one of his packages came in, Coral was trying to explain to him that it was damaged in transit. He shouted at her and accused her of opening it. She had patched it up the best she could, but he kept hammering at her. She followed him all the way back to his office cussing back at him. That Coral was a feisty one,” he laughed.

  “Did she see what was in the package?”

  “She told me it was full of pills in quart-sized plastic bags. All different kinds of pills. One bag fell out when he snatched the box away from her. We found it on the floor after he left, and Coral kept it stashed in her locker. After she died, I gave it to Beverly to hide for leverage in case Charles tried to push her around and because I had to empty Coral’s locker.”

  “Henry, did Charlie know Beverly had the bag of pills? Did Beverly tell him?”

  “I don’t think so, Finbar. As far as I know, it’s still locked in the bottom drawer of her desk. Do you think it’s important? Should I tell Earl Petry?”

  “I think you should, lad. It may well be what caused her death if Charles found out about it. D’you have Officer Petry’s number? I think you should go ahead and ring him right now. I’m going back over to Ms. Watson’s shop. You enjoy the Guinness, lad. I’ll come ‘round and pick up the tote some other time. Sláinte! That means “health” in Gaelic.”

  “Sláinte,” Henry said, “and good health to you, too.”

  Finbar slowly crossed Bottlebrush Boulevard and entered Watson’s. Tommie was sitting on her stool measuring herbs on her spotlessly clean counter and filling her dark amber tea canisters with brand new herbal tea blends.

  “Haloo, missus. You’ve done wonders in here,” he said. “It looks nearly ready for business.”

  “Not just yet. I have to replenish a lot of my stock and make several more potions to replace the ones that were ruined, but it’s coming along, thanks to you doing the floors and the bathroom. How were your conversations with Henry and Charles?” Tommie was acting more like her usual self.

  “I didn’t go to see Charlie-boy. Why spoil such a lovely day. I did have a nice chat with Henry. The lad’s right broken up about Beverly. I believe he genuinely cared for her, once he got the notion of Coral Beadwell out of his head.”

  “Do you think he still should be a suspect?” she asked.

  Finbar took a seat at one of the tables with his back to the door. “I am inclined to remove him, Thomasina. Even though he had ties with both women, his motives don’t add up. I would say they are circumstantial at best.”

  “Why’d he force the coffee on Bev?”

  “He was trying to forge a common interest, in his own bumbling way. I truly believe he’s harmless, like Don said.”

  “But the sisters made those faces,” she pointed out.

  “We must take what they say in tiny spoonfuls, Thomasina. Gossips have a tendency to embellish. I believe it could be they fancy him themselves. But what they said about the drugs, Henry confirmed. Charlie was receiving packages regularly from Mexico. In fact, Coral had a bag of pills from one of Charlie’s damaged packages in her locker, and then Henry gave it to Beverly Cantrell earlier this week to lock in her desk drawer.”

  Tommie almost dropped her knife. “Are you kidding me? Beverly had a bag of bootleg pills? Did Charles know?”

  “That’s unsure. I told Henry to call the police just before I left his store. He should be doing that now.”

  She looked up through the window and froze. “He’s not calling the police, Finbar. He’s going inside the real estate office right this minute. Oh my gosh. Charles will kill him!”

  Tommie grabbed her cell phone and dialed Earl’s number. Earl answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, Tommie,” he said smoothly.

  “Earl, you need to get to Floral Real Estate right now. Henry Erving’s going in there to confront Charles Williams. Hurry, Earl,” she begged. “Don’t let Charles kill him.”

  “Where are you, Tommie?”

  “In my shop, looking out the window. I’m safe. You better go quick.” She hung up the phone just as Finbar disappeared out the front door. She tried to call him back, but it was too late; he was already crossing the street. All she could do was shamble to the door and watch.

  In less than two minutes, a police car appeared on Lantana Lane, and Earl Petry emerged from the driver’s seat. Tommy watched helplessly as he entered the building. The wait was agonizing, not knowing what was happening or to whom. Suddenly, she saw Earl come through the door holding Henry under the arms, walking h
im out. She could tell Henry had been beaten; his nose was bleeding. Where are you, Finbar? she wondered. Come out of there, Finbar!

  Earl sat Henry on the sidewalk, and then he grabbed his walkie talkie and spoke animatedly into it. He was gesturing at the Silver Linings building. Tommie pressed against the door and craned her neck, trying to see around the gazebo and the oak tree that blocked her line of sight. Earl settled Henry into the passenger seat of his car and then drove off, making a right turn onto Oleander. Finbar had yet to emerge.

  Tommie was so focused on looking out the window she failed to hear the person enter the back door. By the time the prickled hairs on her neck alerted her to someone’s presence, it was too late. There was a loud thud and an intense pain in her head, and she collapsed to the floor.

  The next thing Tommie knew, she was lying on her back, a cold cloth on the base of her skull, and one across her forehead. She heard the faraway sound of someone calling her name, and then she blacked out again.

  She awoke in a bed at the Floribunda Urgent Care facility. A white bandage was around her throbbing head and partially obscured her vision. Her mouth was dry as paper.

  “Water,” she whispered.

  A plastic bendy straw was put to her lips, and she sucked it, getting just a little water before it was pulled away.

  “That’s enough, Thomasina. Just a sip is all.”

  It was Finbar. Nobody else called her Thomasina.

  “What? Who?” she managed.

  “Shhh. No talking. You’ve been bashed on the head rather badly. I found you on yer floor by the front door. Somebody meant to do you harm but must’ve seen me sprinting across the street. I didn’t see who it was. D’you know who hit you?”

  She started to shake her head, but the movement caused pain and made tiny flashes of light appear behind her eyes. “No,” she croaked.

  “I was worried about you, missus.”

  “Henry?”

  “Banged up but recovering. Yer man got there just in time to keep Charlie from beating him to death.”