by Leslie Caine
Burke's property. That's all."
"Explosion?" he asked, his tawny checks coloring a
reddish brown. "Did your septic tank explode?"
"A grenade went off," Burke explained. "It does seem
real odd that you didn't hear the blast."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 279
"Yeah. Huh. I must have been inside my shooting
range. Once those doors are shut, you can't hear much of
anything." He looked past my shoulder, then said good
evening to someone behind me--Sullivan, I realized
with a lump in my throat.
"Good evening, everyone," Sullivan said. My pulse
was instantly racing. I inched away from him. I was still
determined not to look around for Hands-on. "You're discussing the grenade, I gather," he continued. "It had
been jerry-rigged inside a desk, which had been recently
delivered to Burke's front porch. The police were theorizing that it could have come from your private cache,
Darren."
"You have hand grenades in your house?" Burke asked
Darren in alarm.
"Not any more. The police confiscated them after the
shooting. Walter Emory's, I mean. So I guess maybe
someone took one of my grenades at the same time they
stole my guns."
"Guns?" I repeated in alarm. "More than one was
stolen?"
"Aw, jeez," Burke moaned. "I moved out to the suburbs of Crestview for the quiet, peaceful lifestyle. Not for
the easy access to firearms and grenades!"
"Hey! It wasn't me who blew up your pond, buddy!"
"So you did know about the explosion," I said.
Darren winced, realizing his gaffe.
"Why did you lie about hearing the blast?" Sullivan
asked.
"I didn't want to get involved. It wasn't my fault someone broke into my home and took my personal property.
I'm not going to be made responsible. And . . . I didn't
want to ruin my chances with Ms. Munroe." He glared at
280 L e s l i e C a i n e
me. "I knew you'd tell her about it being my grenade if I'd
charged over there while you were still at Burke's house."
"You even knew we were there when it exploded?"
Steve asked, balling his fists.
"Yeah. I came outside when Burke and Asia were
shouting back and forth."
"You figured nobody got killed, so you just went back
inside your house," Burke said with disgust.
"Which is no less than what you'd have done if our situations were reversed."
"Not true. I'd have run to the scene to see if you or
anyone else needed medical assistance," Burke retorted.
He returned his attention to Sullivan and me. "Thank
you for all the hard work you've put into my home. I appreciate it. I'm sorry that it's proven to be . . . gilding an
ice castle, but I appreciate it. I'm going home." He glared
at Darren. "Before it turns into a rotting toadstool."
"I'm sorry about how things turned out for you,
Burke," I said.
He mustered a smile, and Sullivan thanked him and
even shook his hand.
Unable to resist a moment longer, I glanced behind
me, but couldn't see Hands-on anywhere. Sullivan said,
"Jennifer Fairfax was in the area and dropped by. She said
to say hello."
"Oh? Did she leave already?" I tried to hide my glee.
"Yeah. She just wanted to wish us luck and took off
when Audrey made her announcement."
Darren, too, mumbled something about leaving and
started to shuffle off. He stopped and gazed into my eyes.
"Erin? There's really no reason for you to mention to
Audrey about it being my grenade that exploded near
you, is there?"
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 281
"A reason? No, but we talk about almost everything, so
I wouldn't count on the subject not coming up."
"This is why I'm a confirmed bachelor." He stormed
away.
Steve grinned at me, and I said to him, "And speaking
for Audrey and all of womankind . . . what an excellent
decision on Mr. Campesio's part."
He chuckled and our gazes locked. I hesitated for just
an instant, but reasoned that we'd both narrowly missed
being injured or killed by a grenade today, and in comparison, how bad could a conversational bomb be? "As
long as we're on the topic of confirmed bachelors, are
you one?"
"A confirmed bachelor, you mean?" he asked, a playful sparkle in his eyes.
"That's right." I wasn't going to turn this into a joke
and let him get away with a nonanswer.
"No, Erin, I'm not." He brushed his fingertips down the
length of my arm and then took my hand in his. "In fact,
back before Richard was killed and everything went to--"
"Erin!" a woman behind me said.
Annoyed that we were being interrupted at such a
time, I whirled around. It was Margot. She looked ecstatic, crossing the floor toward me with her usual grand
composure and grace. Standing a short distance behind
her, Jeremy, on the other hand, looked decidedly
gloomy. I could see why--this was an enormous setback
for him, and might result in his having to shut the doors
of Greene Home Architecture.
"Hello, Steve."
"Congratulations, Margot," he said, and gave her a
peck on the cheek.
I took my cue from him and congratulated her, as
282 L e s l i e C a i n e
well. She thanked us both, then said, "You were obviously deep in conversation. I'm so sorry to interrupt."
"That's all right, Margot," Steve said graciously. "Erin
and I can talk anytime."
Except that we never seem to actually do so.
"Erin, I just wanted to say how very grateful I am for
your contributions to my kitchen design. For all we
know, that's what made the difference in your own client
not winning."
"That and the crumbling foundation," I remarked.
"Oh, yes. Poor Jeremy." She glanced back at him, and
Jeremy quickly mustered a smile. He grabbed his cell phone
and began to talk into it, or at least, to pretend that he was.
He made what looked like a hasty apology to Margot, and
then left the room, still speaking into his phone.
"I'm giving him the proceeds from the contest to help
him stay afloat," Margot told me in conspiratorial tones,
"but there's only so much I can do. He's had nothing to do
with the design of my house." She sighed and searched my
features. "How's your investigation coming along, Erin?"
"You mean the police investigation into the murders?"
"Of course. Everyone knows you have a skill for solving these things. And now that I've won the contest and
the money, it's extra important to me that you succeed.
I'm surely next on the hit list."
"Hit list?"
"After Richard and Walter. Granted, they were judges,
not contestants, but maybe the link was their roles as
public figureheads for ecology. Now that my green home
has gotten such prestigious recognition, someone might
try to take me out of the limelight."
"I don't know what to say, Margot. I wish you could
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 283
just be hap
py that you got this tremendous honor, which
you deserved."
"Life can be so unfair," she replied. "All you have to
do is think about poor Richard and Walter, if you have
any doubts about that."
"That's true," Steve said sadly.
She nodded. Her mood had darkened considerably,
and there were no vestiges of the confidence she'd exhibited as she crossed the floor just moments ago. "If I get
killed tomorrow, it'll be too late to worry. Or to ask you to
keep an eye out for me."
"That much I can do," I replied. "For whatever it's
worth."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome. And congratulations again."
She grimaced a little and said again, "Thanks."
An Earth Love representative called for her to come
join him for some more interviews, and she plastered her
smile back into place as she joined a group of people
across the room.
At last, I was able to return my attention to Steve. He
appeared to be lost in thought. "You were saying?" I
asked gently.
"Hmm?" He looked at a spot behind me. I turned. My
heart sank. Jennifer Fairfax was still here, after all, apparently waiting for us to finish our conversation. She was
gazing at Steve with unabashed desire. No self-respecting
woman would be that publicly brazen with her emotions
if her affections were completely unrequited. I whirled
around and glared at him.
He averted his gaze. "I lost my train of thought completely. Sorry, Gilbert."
"No problem, Sullivan." I turned a little. Audrey was
284 L e s l i e C a i n e
watching us, but she quickly looked away. "I need to go
thank Audrey. See you Monday."
I walked away without giving him much of a chance to
respond.
Audrey greeted me with a hug. "You look a little upset.
It isn't because of my decision, is it?"
"No, of course not. I'd have chosen Margot's house,
too. I just wanted to thank you for stepping in and saving
the day. I'm relieved this contest is over."
"I'm sure that's true for all of us. Well, not counting
Mr. Campesio and Dr. Stratton."
I glanced back at Margot, thinking that she, at least,
was not feeling especially relieved at the moment. I stiffened as I saw Sullivan heading toward me. I whirled
around to face Audrey once again. She caught my expression, looked behind him to where Hands-on was standing, and said, "Oh, now I get the picture."
"Good evening, Audrey," Sullivan said, exuding charm.
"Hello, Mr. Sullivan," she replied coldly.
"Steve," he corrected, sounding both hurt and surprised. "I wanted to thank you before I left."
"There's no need, Mr. Sullivan. And I'm leaving, too.
Time, as they say, flies. Next thing you know, it's later than
you think." She grabbed my arm. "Let's go home, Erin."
She narrowed her eyes at Sullivan. "Nobody appreciates
stragglers."
At nine o'clock Monday morning, Margot was waiting
by our office door. Surprised, I greeted her and asked if
everything was all right.
"Can I come in?"
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 285
"Of course," I said, unlocking the door and holding it
for her. "Can I take your coat?"
She ignored the question and began to pace while I
flipped on our lights and hung up my own coat. "They're
trying to ruin me," Margot said. "I should have known
this would happen."
"Who is?"
"The press. The public. It's all your client's fault."
"Do you mean Burke?"
"Who else? He's the only one with enough of a grudge
to tell the media. They must have interviewed him. This
morning's paper said they got the information from 'unnamed sources.' I won that contest fair and square. My
choice of modes for transportation has nothing to do with
my house."
"True. Although all I've ever seen you drive is that
SUV-style hybrid. Doesn't everyone know it gets excellent gas mileage? For an SUV?"
"My car isn't the problem. It's my plane. I have my
own private jet for when I travel. And Burke's the only
person I can think of who knows I have a private jet and
who would have been all too happy to blab about it.
Haven't you read this morning's newspaper?"
I sat down at my desk. Margot continued to pace.
There was no point in suggesting Margot have a seat;
she'd sit if she wanted to. "Not yet. I take it they disclosed
that you had a private jet in the article?"
"Worse. In a sidebar. Sidebars are the only part of a
newspaper story that actually get read." She sank into the
Sheraton chair in front of me. "The headline of the side
story was: 'How Green Is Hypocrisy?' "
"Ouch. How often do you use your plane?"
"Why?"
286 L e s l i e C a i n e
"Just curious."
"Every couple of weeks. I enjoy the occasional foray to
my condo in Telluride."
"I didn't know you had a second home."
"I do. I keep thinking of hiring you and Mr. Sullivan
to redecorate the place. The original owner had it covered in monkeys."
"Monkeys?"
"Everywhere you look. The wallpaper, the artwork,
the bric-a-brac. It's tasteful enough, I suppose. If you like
monkeys."
"Would our transportation be provided?" I couldn't
help but ask.
"In my jet, you mean, obviously. I don't suppose you
meant my paying for your gas for you to drive the eight
hours each way. Even though a car ride causes less than a
tenth of the carbon emissions of a flight. See how easy it
is to compromise one's ideals?" She sighed. "I give huge
amounts of money to environmental causes. I don't even
get to declare that as a tax deduction, because saving the
earth is considered political, or some such nonsense. You
don't see the Crestview Sentinel doing a sidebar on my
donations, though, do you?"
"No."
"Well, of course you don't. Since you didn't see the
original story either."
"I'd be happy to discuss getting rid of your monkeys
with Steve, if you'd like." Now there was a sentence I
never could have imagined myself saying.
"Yes, I would. Thank you." She rose. "Although I am
just not making that drive twice a month. So we may
need to wait to see if I get so much flack about my jet that
I'll want to sell my monkey depository."
P o i s o n e d b y G i l t 287
"Cheer up, Margot. You won a contest that you deserved to win, and you worked hard for the honor."
"And I lost my boyfriend."
"You and Jeremy broke up?"
She nodded. "He came over to my house yesterday.
He said our lives were heading in such opposite directions, he just couldn't take it anymore. That he wanted to
be the one I could look up to for a change. So he had a
lot of rebuilding to do."
"Maybe he means that."
"And maybe my monkeys will fly me to and from
Telluride," she grumbled as she let herself out my door.
"On the bright side," I called after her, "you're no
&nb
sp; longer going to be the queen of ecology. So that will keep
you off the hit list you were worried about last night."
"Hooray for me," she said over her shoulder as the
door swung shut behind her.
Not five minutes had passed before someone threw
the door open so hard it banged against its stop. Matthew
stepped inside. His cheeks were red, his eyes blazing, and
he seemed to be staring directly at my neck as he came
toward me, breathing heavily with his hands balled into
fists.
I sat up and braced myself. I had no place to run. I
could flip my chair over and use it to shield me. Should I
try to call 911? Would it be too late when they arrived?
He shook a piece of paper, clenched in his fist, at me.
"I now have a police record, thanks to you, bitch!"
"What do you mean?"
"They arrested me in connection with stolen merchandise!"
"When?"
"Saturday!"
288 L e s l i e C a i n e
"Morning? How did you deliver the desk to Burke?"
"I had Mike do it. My employee. And thanks so much
for your concern!"
"Your being under arrest at the time might have been
the best thing that's happened to you, Matthew. The desk
was booby-trapped with a grenade. This way you might
have an alibi."
"I know! The police grilled me about that Saturday
night! I had nothing to do with the damned grenade, and
no idea how the damn thing got there!"
He was leaning into my face close enough for me to
smell his sour breath.
"If that's--"
"It was put there after Mike delivered it. So I don't give
a rat's ass about the grenade! I just care about trying to
keep myself out of jail and my business afloat despite
these lame-ass charges!"
I mustered some courage and said, "This is my office,
Matthew. Get out of my face before I call the police on
you again!"
He snarled at me, but took a step back. "I'll get you for
this, Erin! You'll be sorry for reporting me!"
To my immense relief, he turned and left, slamming
the door again behind him.
c h a p t e r 2 3
sullivan arrived at the office half an hour later. By
then, all was quiet, no shrieking former clients
or furniture makers barging through the door to vent at
me. I had calmed down enough to decide that Matthew
was just voicing empty threats in my direction--if he'd
been the killer, his words would have served no purpose.
I'd vowed not to say a word to Steve about Jennifer
