“I can’t believe this,” Lydia said.
“You run the taffy shop that the victim was found by, correct?” Detective Grey asked. “Did you serve any candy to the man?”
“Yes. He took some of my pineapple salt water taffy samples.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “But you can’t think that I had anything to do with his death?”
“You are linked to the victim,” Detective Grey reminded her. “He was found by your shop, you were the one to call the police, and you fed him something before his death.”
“Leo, this is me we’re talking about,” she said appealing to her brother.
“We’re just doing our jobs,” he responded.
Lydia wanted to believe him, but she wasn’t quite sure that she did. There was something about his manner that made her think that part of him wanted her to be guilty.
“What motive could I possibly have for killing this man?” Lydia demanded.
“Well, he was working for you, wasn’t he?” Detective Grey asked. “He was selling your house?”
“That’s right.” Lydia crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. She was starting to feel defensive as the two detectives watched her across the table.
“And how would you describe your working relationship?” Detective Grey continued.
“It was fine. There was no reason why I would want to hurt him. I had no complaints.”
“Really?” asked Leo, leaning forward. “Because I thought that the realtor was taking rather a long time to sell such a large property with an ocean view so close to the summer.”
“Well, yes,” Lydia said. “I did think he was taking too long.”
“So, maybe you did have some complaints about him after all?” Leo suggested.
“He was probably just trying to get the best deal. And he promised that he would find a buyer soon. In fact, he said so during our last call. He agreed that he’d have a buyer sign a contract with his lucky pen soon. I gain nothing from his death. In fact, I think it will make selling the house more difficult for me.”
“Maybe,” Leo said. “I mean, we don’t have any proof of what was said during this call. And we don’t know why the realtor was having such trouble selling such a beautiful property. Maybe he was having some difficulty because most people have already purchased their summer homes. Or maybe the seller was the one being difficult because she doesn’t really want to leave that house.”
Lydia balked. “You think I’m not trying to sell the house? You think I’m just trying to have free rent or something like that?”
“It’s a possibility,” Leo said. “Maybe you had an argument with the realtor because he found a buyer and you would have had to move out before you wanted to.”
Lydia gritted her teeth. She couldn’t believe her own brother was accusing her of murder.
“I told you before that if you wanted to sell the house, you could be the one to do it,” she said, trying not to start yelling. “I was doing it to help you. Uncle Edgar had even requested that you be the one to handle the sale.”
“Don’t remind me,” Leo scoffed.
“Wait a minute. Is that what this is all about?” asked Lydia. “Are you treating me like a suspect because you’re mad about the house sale? If you wanted to keep the house, you could have just told me.”
“I don’t want the house,” Leo said, angrily. He was losing his detective demeanor altogether now. “I don’t want anything from Uncle Edgar. I’d rather have him here with us than anything else. And this isn’t about wanting his possessions. I just have to wonder why Aunt Edie was left enough to go jet setting around the world, and you were left enough to open a taffy shop, and I was only left instructions on how to sell a house.”
Lydia stared at her big brother. He had been keeping his distance from her after their uncle’s death, and now she knew why. He wasn’t just grieving the loss of someone he loved. He was also dealing with feelings of betrayal.
“Leo, I’m sorry you were hurt by all this. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much it bothered you before. Maybe Uncle Edgar knew that I needed a little help to change my life, and he thought that you were doing all right. You’d already become a detective like you always dreamed. I know that he loved you.”
“I’m not hurt,” Leo said, though the look in his eyes was saying something else. “I’m suspicious.”
Detective Grey cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should focus on the circumstances around this death?”
“Yes, exactly,” said Leo. He flipped his notebook open to a new page. “Miss Doherty, there were no witnesses on the boardwalk to confirm what you did when you saw the body, is that correct?”
Lydia rose to her feet. She hated hearing the anger slipped into the formality with which Leo was addressing her, and she couldn’t stand staying there and being accused of wrongdoing.
“I already told you that I didn’t see anyone else on the boardwalk. It was raining, and I was distracted by seeing a dead body, so I could have missed something. But I didn’t notice anyone. Now, I believe that I’ve answered all your questions. And I believe that someone needs to stop confusing his personal feelings about an inheritance with a motive for murder. Until that gets figured out, I’d like to leave. I’m soaking wet, I’m tired, and I’m upset. If I’m not under arrest, I’m going home.”
The detectives didn’t make a move to stop her, and she stormed over to the door. Her departure would have been more dramatic if she didn’t have to return to pick up her dog that had fallen asleep in the other chair during the interrogation.
6
Company and Commiserating
The feast of a celebratory dinner that Lydia had dreamed about with her dog earlier in the evening didn’t come to fruition. However, considering how the day had turned out, the meal wasn’t half bad. After Lydia had told her what happened, Trina had hurried over to her house with some Chinese take-out and a bottle of rosé.
The two friends were sitting on the couch with a tuckered-out pup in between them. Between the excitement of the day and gorging on some beef and broccoli, Sunny was exhausted. She snored lightly and would roll back and forth between the two humans she wanted to cuddle with.
Though her day had been objectively awful, Lydia was starting to feel a little better now. She had taken a hot shower, had something to eat, and now had a friend to commiserate with.
“This morning seems like the distant past,” Lydia said. “I thought having the owner of the ice cream shop be rude to me was upsetting, but that’s nothing compared to coming across a dead body.”
Trina poured some more wine into their glasses and said, “I can’t believe Randall Holmes is dead. He always seemed so full of life, telling people that he could solve any home needs. He sold so many houses in the area. This is going to be all anybody can talk about at the salon for weeks.”
“I can’t believe that he was murdered,” Lydia said, petting her sleeping dog’s back for comfort. “It’s hard to imagine that someone in town could poison a man like that.”
“I bet I’ll hear a ton of theories at work. Everyone loved guessing who it was that sabotaged the mini-golf windmill last summer, and this is much worse. Of course, no matter what the problem is Mrs. Miresome blames the seagulls. I don’t think there’s any chance that they could be behind it?”
An image of a seagull with a twisted mustache like in an old-time melodrama popped into Lydia’s head, and she let out a little laugh.
“No. I don’t think a seagull could give a man cyanide.”
“I wonder who most of the women will think it is,” Trina said, thinking hard. “Maybe they’ll think it’s that new lifeguard. A lot of people have been talking about him. From the stories I hear he’s the strong, silent type. He’s rugged and masculine. But no one seems to know his story.”
“Is there a reason why he could be related to the murder?” asked Lydia.
“No. I think people just like talking about his muscles, so his name will come up. Or it would if people w
ould agree on what his name is. I’ve heard David, Daniel, and D'Artagnan. I think that last one is definitely wrong. But the guy does like his privacy.”
“Well, if you hear any theories that have any merit that are based on something other than gossiping about a handsome stranger, let me know,” Lydia said with a sigh. “Because I have a feeling that my brother likes having me as the prime suspect.”
“No,” Trina assured her. “That can’t be true. Leo has always looked out for you.”
“But that was before we lost Uncle Edgar. And Leo is so upset about how our inheritance was doled out. And he thinks I’m plotting and conniving to keep this house. I don’t know if deep down he really believes that I’m a killer, but the way he’s acting isn’t reassuring me that he has my back.”
Lydia finished her drink and set the glass on the coffee table. Trina grabbed her hand to show support.
“Okay,” Trina said. “Even if we agree that brothers can be jerks and part of him thinks it would be funny to throw you in a jail cell temporarily – he’s a good detective, isn’t he?”
“I always thought so.”
“Then, you have nothing to worry about! You didn’t kill Randall Holmes, so there’s not going to be any evidence that you did something wrong. Leo and the cops will find the real killer, and you can go back to focusing on your new business.”
“I guess you’re right,” Lydia said, starting to feel a little more hopeful. “I know there was no cyanide in my salt water taffy, so there has to have been something else that he ate that poisoned him. Once they figure that out, they’ll be on their way to finding the real killer. Leo will have to put his personal grudge aside and catch the murderer.”
“Exactly,” said Trina.
Sunny let out a snore that sounded like it was also in agreement.
“It’s all right to be sad about Randall Holmes,” Trina said. “Because it seems like he was a nice guy and a helpful realtor. But everything else will work out. The police will catch the bad guy, and you’ll be completely cleared.”
“Thanks. You’ve made me feel better all day. You’re the best friend anyone could ask for.”
“That’s because I also bring wine,” Trina joked. “But seriously, it’s all right. Everything will seem better in the morning.”
Trina’s words stayed with Lydia even after she left. Lydia slept more peacefully through the night than she thought she would have with her “guard” dog by her side. When she woke up in the morning, she did have a feeling that everything would work out, that justice would be served soon, and that she couldn’t be blamed for something she didn’t do.
However, that was before she saw the text message that her brother had sent to her early that morning. It read: Poison confirmed. Only contents of stomach was taffy. Don’t leave town.
Lydia felt her spirits pummel. She wasn’t sure whether texts to suspects were reserved for angry sibling communication. However, she knew that this development wasn’t helpful in proving she had no involvement in the murder.
7
The News
Lydia tried not to let the text message bother her, but she wasn’t very successful. She hated thinking that her brother might have enjoyed sending it and that he liked unnerving her. The only thought that was worse was that he might actually believe that she could have killed someone.
She made sure that Sunny was set for the day with food and water. The dog seemed happy that the sun had returned after a day of rain and was lying on her doggie bed near the sliding glass door to catch some rays.
Lydia would have hoped that nice weather would have meant an increase in business. However, with part of the boardwalk outside of her shop considered a crime scene, she wasn’t sure that they would have any foot traffic that day.
She hurried to Doherty’s Taffy and Trinkets like her original plan had been. She hadn’t thought to contact her employees last night, and she wanted to meet them to explain what had happened.
She arrived earlier than their meeting time, but her three employees were already standing outside the door to the shop and staring at the crime scene tape as she walked up to them. Dianna had an arm around Kelsey who was shivering. Jeff was scratching his head.
“I guess you’ve already heard the news,” Lydia said.
“It was pretty hard to miss,” Dianna said. “It was on the front page of the local paper.”
“What?” Lydia said.
Jeff nodded. He reached into the large pockets on his cargo shorts and pulled out a paper. The headline read: The Mystery of Who Murdered Holmes.
However, it wasn’t the headline that made her groan. It was the accompanying picture to the article. There was a picture of the crime scene tape placed on the boardwalk where the body had been found earlier. Her new sign proclaiming the shop’s name was clearly seen in the photo. There was no way that people wouldn’t know that a dead body had been found outside of Doherty’s Taffy and Trinkets. She had a feeling that this might deter customers from wanting to eat her wares, especially if there was any mention of poison in the article.
Lydia suggested they go inside the shop, which wasn’t considered part of the crime scene and discuss what had happened. She unlocked the door and ushered her employees inside while she skimmed the news article. The reporter, Brie Rankin, didn’t mention the taffy as a murder weapon. However, the story did contain countless Holmes references and did report that Lydia Doherty, the new proprietor of the taffy shop, had found the body outside her door. They were unsure why he had been outside the shop at the time of his demise.
Lydia didn’t think this was good advertising, but she was glad that the article didn’t mention specifically she was a suspect in the crime.
She looked up at her employees who were all upset by the news and tried to figure out what to say.
Jeff stepped up with a joke. “I guess it won’t be too busy today. Huh, boss?”
“No. I don’t think it will be,” Lydia said. “Which is a real shame because you all did so well making the pineapple taffy yesterday. I think we’ll have to wait for this to blow over before we get real business. Hopefully, it will be solved before the summer crowds come.”
“Do they know what killed that poor man?” Dianna asked.
“They think Cyanide,” Lydia told them. “And this isn’t going to be a selling point for our taffy, but that seems to be the only thing that he ate that day.”
“No way,” Jeff said, sounding amazed.
“Are we suspects?” Kelsey asked nervously. “I gave him a taffy sample. Do they think I might have killed him? I didn’t.”
“I think the police only consider me a real suspect,” Lydia said, trying to reassure the teen. “They’re not looking at you.”
“But why would they think you did it?” asked Jeff. “And why would you use your own taffy? Doesn’t that make you look bad?”
“That’s an excellent point,” Lydia said. “Hopefully my brother will realize that this would have been a pretty stupid way for me to murder someone, and he’ll start looking for the real killer.”
“Your brother?” asked Dianna.
“My brother is Detective Doherty. This is his case.”
“I didn’t know your brother was on the force. Well, it must be reassuring to have someone who cares about you working the case,” Dianna said.
“I don’t know about that,” Lydia said with a sigh.
The shop fell silent. They all looked out the window where they could still see the crime scene tape, blocking off part of the boardwalk.
Lydia couldn’t take the sight. She started checking the floor of the shop for the missing pen that Randall Holmes had lost, but she didn’t see it. Maybe he hadn’t even dropped it in her shop.
“Are you looking for something?” Kelsey asked, still staring sadly at the boardwalk.
“Just a reason why this could have happened,” Lydia muttered.
She shook her head. It wasn’t fair. Her business was going to suffer because her shop’s
name was already associated with a murder in the press. The rumors would only get worse when they learned that the murder weapon was most likely a cyanide-infused taffy. With Leo being so angry with her, she saw no reason why he wouldn’t keep that a secret from the town for very long. He and Detective Grey also seemed convinced that she made a viable suspect. By the time the real killer was caught, her reputation could be completely ruined. Or worse, Leo could let his personal feelings of betrayal cloud his judgment, and he could let the circumstantial evidence convict her. Randall Holmes’s killer might get away with murder.
Pineapple and Poison Page 3
