by Mary Maxwell
“What for?” she demanded. “That’s not going to bring Lacy back! And it sure won’t—”
“Pinky!”
She sniffled. Then she said, “Sorry, Katie. I think I’m losing it.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetie. This is a very difficult situation for all of us. Our friend is gone. And her death wasn’t an accident. Someone deliberately poisoned those strawberries to—”
“It was all of them!” she blurted. “Every last dessert and snack on that table had been turned into a murder weapon.”
“Okay, if that’s what your friend told you. I haven’t heard that yet.”
“He’s not my friend, Katie. He’s a customer and—” She muttered something that Nana Reed would describe as “no-no language” before continuing. “You tricked me into telling you that, didn’t you?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I just figured that it must be someone you’re friendly with.”
She heaved another sigh. “If I tell you,” she whispered, “do you promise not to say a word?”
“Cross my heart,” I said. “Who told you about the desserts and snacks being poisoned?”
“Nathaniel Craig.”
“Suzanne’s husband?”
“Well, did I stutter, Katie? Yes, Suzanne’s husband. Someone told him and he told me.”
“I didn’t realize you and he were such good friends.”
She groaned scornfully. “We’re not friends! Nathaniel Craig calls the shop once each week to buy a dozen roses. If things weren’t so tight, I wouldn’t even do business with the man. But it’s a standing order; same flowers, same day of the week, same delivery address.” She paused to snicker. “It’s not their address, but running a flower shop can be a lot like being an attorney or a doctor.”
“How so?”
“You know,” she said. “Client-patient privacy or whatever it’s called. It’s none of my business who people send flowers to.”
“Okay, Pinky. I’ll take the bait. Who was Nathaniel Craig sending flowers to?”
She gasped. “Client-patient privacy, Katie! I can’t tell you that.”
“What if I try and guess?” I said. “Will you tell me if I’m right?”
“I suppose so…”
I was getting ready to say one name, but another suddenly flew from my mouth.
“Lacy Orvane,” I blurted. “Is that it?”
Pinky gasped again. “How did you know?”
“I was just speculating. Is that really who he sends roses to every week?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Pinky?”
“I feel sick to my stomach, Katie. Like I just violated an oath or something.”
I laughed and told her she’d done nothing of the sort. Then I said, “Okay, let’s get back to the desserts being poisoned. Nathaniel Craig called and told you that—”
“Actually,” she cut in, “I usually talk to him, but didn’t today. I was in the powder room when he phoned. My sister’s helping me out a few hours a week while I look for a new employee. She took his call and they got to talking about Lacy. At first, Barb said he didn’t seem all that interested in having a conversation about what happened. But then he suddenly announced that all of the desserts and snacks had been poisoned with—”
“Cicutoxin?”
“Yeah, whatever. I’ll stick with calling it poison.”
“And that’s what Nathaniel Craig told your sister?”
“Well, for Pete’s sake! Are your ears clogged or something? I just told you that he was the one. Do you think he killed Lacy?”
“I’m just trying to get the facts straight, Pinky. I didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers.”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then she giggled softly. And then she apologized again for being brusque.
“Pinky?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Didn’t we already cover that?” I said. “There’s no need for you to say that you’re sorry. We’re all upset about what happened to Lacy. And we want the person responsible to be arrested and put behind bars as soon as possible.”
“Amen to that, Katie!” she said. “Amen to that!”
CHAPTER 15
Dina Kincaid stirred her coffee with a ballpoint pen, dried the impromptu utensil with a napkin and plunked it back into her desk drawer. Then she asked me to repeat the news that I’d just delivered.
“His nickname is Danny Downer,” I said. “But his real name is Thomas Green. He’s vice president at Crescent Creek Bank.”
We were in her office about an hour after I finished the conversation with Pinky Newton. I’d been waiting for Portia to send me the picture of Lacy Orvane and Thomas Green. When it arrived a few minutes after I talked to Portia, I decided to make a quick stop at Dina’s office while I was in town taking care of some Sky High business.
“Really? I thought the VP was a guy called…” She took a drink of the coffee, let it warm her throat and then put down the cup. “Oh, what is his name? I think maybe I met him once at the awful community service banquet that the mayor does every year.”
“The Golden Crescent Awards?”
She made a face. “Yes! The food is exactly like the frozen TV dinners my mother made us eat whenever she and my dad were going out.”
I smiled at the memory. “And Tabby Bishop was always your babysitter, right?”
“More like my tormentor! She was so mean. And she always smelled like eucalyptus.”
“Cough drops,” I said. “I suspect she was addicted.”
“She was addicted alright—to being cruel!”
We laughed for a few moments about the childhood memories and then I pulled up the picture of Thomas Green and Lacy on my phone.
“This is the guy,” I said, holding it toward Dina. “The picture was taken when they were at Horsetooth Reservoir for a bank picnic.”
She studied the image for a moment. “Are you sure he works at the bank? I’ve never seen that guy before in my life.”
I smiled. “I’m not making this up, detective. Just reporting the facts.”
“Where’d you get the picture?”
“Portia Pearson had it. Lacy wanted her to crop Danny…” I smirked at Dina. “…to crop Thomas Green out of the picture and use it to accompany her bio in the festival’s promotional materials.”
She studied the image again, nodding and smiling. “So, what’s the deal? He’s white as a sheet. Does he have some…I don’t know, aversion to the sun?”
“No clue. But you’re right; he’s one pale bank VP alright.”
“Maybe we should bring him in for questioning.” She took another sip of coffee and cringed. “Do you know what this tastes like?”
“I’m afraid to guess.”
“Don’t be,” she said. “Whatever you think would probably taste a whole lot better than this sludge.” She frowned and leaned back in her chair. “Katie, Katie, Katie! I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in forever! My feet are like two bruised nubs from racing around! And my stomach feels like a high-speed washing machine on the spin cycle!”
“Well…” I didn’t know what to say or which malady to address first. “I’m sorry to hear about all of that.”
“Thanks. I’m just—” She shook away the complaint. “What was the guy’s name again?”
“Danny Downer?”
She groaned and shook her head. “The real one, please.”
“Thomas Green.”
“We should talk to him,” she said, reaching for a pencil and notepad. “I’ll have Tyler do it tomorrow.”
“Probably a good idea,” I agreed. “That’ll save you from scurrying around on your little stubs.”
“Nubs!” she squawked. “They’re nubs and they’re throbbing like crazy!”
When she stopped, I didn’t say a word.
“Sorry about that,” she said eventually. “I’ll try to keep the outbursts to a minimum.”
“It’s okay. I get it.”
“Anyway, so…N
athaniel Craig?” She furrowed her brow. “Your text earlier said that he told someone that all of the food at Portia’s had been dosed with the cicutoxin. Is that correct?”
“That’s what he told Pinky’s sister,” I answered. “Is it true?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, it is. The final report won’t be ready for a few days, but it seems that someone injected cicutoxin into all of the competition entries at Portia’s yesterday.”
“So?” I said, leaning toward her desk to take one of the caramels from a half-filled candy dish. “Why do you think Nathaniel Craig would have that information?”
Dina sipped her coffee. I unwrapped my caramel, popped it into my mouth and slipped the wrapper into my coat pocket.
“I have no idea,” she said finally. “Loose lips?”
“Meaning?”
“Somebody here may have shared the information,” she said, sounding weary and defeated. “At this point, it seems like anything really is possible, Katie. I’ve got a burglary case that’s making my brain swell. Mamie Trugate’s sons are both accusing the other of breaking in and stealing her jewelry while their mother was asleep.”
“Don’t they both have keys?”
She shook her head. “Mamie changed the locks. I guess there are a few trust issues dangling from the Trugate family tree.”
“Focus, detective,” I said gently. “Lacy Orvane. Poison in the desserts and snacks. Nathaniel Craig.”
She took a deep breath and sat up in her chair. “Right, yes. Lacy Orvane.” She pushed a few papers around on her desk. “I’ve got notes here somewhere, but I suppose…” She looked up, fixing her eyes on mine. “It’s possible, Katie. Somebody here might have accidentally let slip that cicutoxin was found in all of the things you and the other judges were getting ready to sample.”
“But that doesn’t sound like anybody on the force,” I said. “Trent’s always telling me that everyone is loyal and dedicated. He seems pretty convinced that nobody would divulge evidence about an ongoing investigation to someone who wasn’t a member of the inner circle.”
She smiled. “That’s just it, though. Maybe someone thinks Nathaniel Craig is trustworthy. After all, he’s a pillar of the community, right? A bank president, one of the most successful civic leaders, the kind of guy you could trust with a secret.”
I nodded. “And there’s also the fact that Lacy worked for him. Maybe he ran into Tyler Armstrong at the gun range and that’s how Craig found out.”
Her mouth squirmed into a frown. “I doubt that. Tyler isn’t much for the local range. He prefers the one up in Grand Lake.”
She went back to rummaging through the papers and folders on her desk. As she busied herself with the flotsam and jetsam, I suddenly realized that Pinky Newton might be right; there was one other way Nathaniel Craig would know all of the desserts and snacks had been spiked with cicutoxin.
“Dina?”
She continued searching through the things on her desk. “Yes?”
“If it wasn’t someone with the department,” I said, waiting for her to look up, “or someone from the lab, I don’t see how Nathaniel Craig would be privy to information about Lacy’s death. Unless…”
When she finally glanced up, our eyes met and I could tell she knew what I meant.
“Unless he did it,” I said.
CHAPTER 16
“After all,” I said as Dina considered the possibility, “word on the street is that Lacy was having an affair with Nathaniel Craig.”
“Did you really just say ‘word on the street,’ Katie?”
“What? You’d prefer ‘the rumor mill’ or ‘according to popular belief’ or—”
“Katie?”
“Detective?”
She laughed again; a bit lighter and much more brisk. “It always makes me smile when you call me that.”
“Anyway, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate,” I said. “I just wanted to share that with you.”
“Consider it shared.”
“And there’s one more thing.”
“Consider me listening.”
“Nathaniel Craig has been ordering a dozen roses from Pinky Newton’s flower shop every week,” I said. “And guess who they’re for?”
“Lacy Orvane?”
“Bingo!”
“Isn’t that pretty risky behavior?”
“I suppose,” I agreed. “But the guy’s pretty full of himself. And you know how some people can be when they achieve a certain level of success. They think they’re above the law, cut from a different cloth, impervious to rules.”
She laughed again. “Impervious?”
“What can I say? I heard it on a cooking show I was watching last night. They were making barbecue chicken and discussing crossword puzzles.”
“Oh, doesn’t that sound good right about now?”
“Barbecue?”
“To be honest,” she said, “anything sounds good. I’m so tired of eating the junk in the vending machine.”
“I could run over to Smoky Joe’s and get you some ribs or a pulled pork sandwich,” I offered.
“That’s okay, Katie. But thank you. I’ll probably rummage around in the refrigerator in the break room. Maybe I can pilfer somebody’s leftovers.”
“I’m shocked! An officer of the law committing a crime inside the police station?”
She didn’t say anything. So I apologized for the joke and waited.
“Dina?” I said after another few moments of silence. “Are you still with me?”
“I’m, uh…”
I waited, watching her shuffle papers on her desk.
“Sorry, Katie,” she said finally. “I’m trying to find the summary report that I received earlier from Ted Caldwell.”
I’d never heard the name, so I asked about the guy.
“Oh, Ted? He’s great; just joined us as a forensics tech.”
“And what do his notes say?”
“It’s a recap of all the evidence we’ve collected so far,” Dina answered. “From inside Portia’s furniture store, the alley out back and the security cameras in the vicinity.”
“Anything you can share?”
She cleared her throat. “Well, you know this is all confidential, right?”
“As always,” I said. “And you know I’ll be judicious.”
“I know that, Katie. I just feel like we need to have that little exchange whenever we’re working a case together.”
I smiled at the remark; Dina respected my experience as a private investigator and I valued her expertise as one of the best detectives that I’d ever met. After returning to Crescent Creek from Chicago, I’d been involved on the periphery of a handful of local investigations. Since the Lacy Orvane case was new and we hadn’t discussed it all that much, I was flattered that Dina had used the reference—working a case together—even though I hadn’t had much involvement.
“Okay, I agree. And now that we’ve had that little chat, what does Ted Caldwell’s report say?”
“Well, there are a couple of very interesting things,” she said. “The search of the alley found a paper bag stashed behind a steel barrel near the back entrance to Sherman’s Sporting Goods. And, here’s the most intriguing part of Ted’s report—the paper bag contained three used syringes, a glass vial partially filled with clear liquid, a deposit slip from Crescent Creek Bank and a plastic carryout container from Drake’s Deli.”
From the sly sound of her voice, I could tell she was withholding one more spicy detail. “Okay, detective,” I said. “There’s a card up your sleeve.”
She chuckled. “Me?”
“Yep. What gives?”
“The plastic deli container,” she said. “It’s got yesterday’s date on it along with a set of fingerprints, the initials NC and the remnants of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“NC?”
Dina nodded. “With the bank slip included, I was thinking it might be Nathaniel Craig,” she said. “Tyler Armstrong checked with Colin Drak
e at the deli. Craig’s a real creature of habit. He goes there almost every day to buy the same thing for lunch—a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“Do you think it’s a smoking gun?” I asked. “All tied up with a pretty bow.”
She shrugged. “Either than or a diversion. We ran the prints, but they’re not in the system.”
“Seems pretty tidy, doesn’t it?” I said. “Craig’s initials, yesterday’s date, the carryout container from a place across the street from the bank.”
“Like I said, a diversion,” Dina repeated. “Or a really clumsy murderer.”
We locked eyes for a moment; we’d both seen our share of inept criminals who think they’ve covered their tracks while leaving a trail of breadcrumbs right back to their doorstep.
“What about the deposit slip?” I said. “Was it blank or had it been used?”
“The front was blank,” Dina said. “But Daphne Wright’s phone number was written on the back along with a note that said: ‘Call her at noon; deliver the message.’”
“That’s interesting. Did you ask her about it?”
Dina nodded. “She told me that her desk phone rang yesterday morning just as the delivery van left. She hurried back to answer it, but the caller hung up just as she said hello.”
“And that’s why she forgot to lock the backdoor to the furniture store?”
“Possibly,” Dina said with a shrug. “I didn’t get very far with her. She feels guilty that the person who poisoned Lacy probably came in through the unlocked door. I had a few more questions, but the poor thing started sobbing so hysterically that I told her we’d try again tomorrow.”
“Sounds reasonable. Daphne’s not Einstein or anything, but she’s a real sweetheart. I can’t see her being involved in this.”
“I’d have to agree,” Dina said. “But we need to cover all the angles.”
“Sure, of course. What about the security cameras in the alley? Anything helpful?”
“There’s a good chance we have footage of a possible suspect,” she answered. “He’s carrying a paper bag when he slips into the store through the delivery door a couple of hours before Lacy was poisoned. It coincides with the period of time that the entrance was left unlocked.”
