Purls and Poison

by Anne Canadeo

  She didn’t want to think of that now, first thing. But she couldn’t help it. She lifted the phone and checked the time.

  Yikes . . . nine o’clock? That was like sleeping until noon for her.

  About ten text messages from friends and clients flashed on the phone’s home screen, and one at the bottom from her boss, which she thought best to read first.

  I’ve already reached most of you by phone. I want to confirm that we’re closed for business today while police investigate Liza’s tragic death.

  In case you haven’t heard yet, she was found unresponsive in her office late last night.

  The police will be contacting everyone on our staff to take statements. I’m sure you will all cooperate.

  Suzanne was relieved to see that Harry hadn’t told the entire office she’d found Liza’s body. They would know soon enough and she didn’t feel like fielding a lot of texts and phone calls from curious coworkers.

  I’m sure this news comes as a shock. Liza was a beloved, respected, and valued member of our team and her passing is a great loss.

  The office will be open tomorrow, and my door will be open as well, if anyone has questions about the situation. More importantly, I hope we can lend support and care to one another in this sad time. Like a family.

  Harry’s words struck a chord. She did feel shocked and saddened, no matter what she’d said about Liza. And she had some questions. Lots of questions.

  Why had Liza been at the office so late? Did she really work that hard to keep her edge? Suzanne knew that most of the work in real estate sales could be done from home. There was no need to be in a depressing little cubicle to wheel and deal.

  As far as Harry’s hope that the staff acted like one big “family,” Suzanne had her doubts. If she and her coworkers were a family, it was definitely one teeming with dysfunction.

  No one there had truly fond feelings for Liza. Except for Harry. And maybe Beth Birney, their office manager, who rarely had a bad word to say, brimming with an indiscriminate fondness for everyone on the staff. Like a cuddly Labrador retriever.

  I should definitely be more like Beth. Starting today, Suzanne vowed.

  She shuffled into the kitchen in her fuzzy slippers and robe and in a sweeping glance read a history of the morning’s activities. A trail of toast crumbs, cereal boxes, open jars of peanut butter and jelly, and sticky knives covered the counters and kitchen island. Random slices of bread had escaped their wrapper, while apples and oranges wandered blindly around the fruit bowl, with no idea how to jump back in.

  Kevin had managed to get the boys and Alexis off to school, but hadn’t made it out of the house yet himself. He stood at the kitchen island, wearing a sweatshirt topped by a quilted vest, and carefully built an egg sandwich on a square of tinfoil. His thermal coffee cup stood nearby, ready to go.

  “Hey, hon. How are you doing? Harry called. He said the office is closed, so I didn’t wake you.”

  “I heard. He just sent a text.” Suzanne poured herself a mug of coffee and sat on a stool across from him.

  “Lucky you. Some of us zombies need to march on.”

  She felt bad for him. He’d missed a lot of sleep last night, too. “Sorry, honey, but I just remembered. We left my car in the village. Can you give me a lift? I’ll jump in the shower and be ready in two minutes.”

  She knew it would take a bit longer than that. She was sure he did, too. But he nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait. Not a problem.”

  He sighed and picked up the newspaper, then bit into the sandwich he’d been packing to take along.

  Suzanne dashed back to the bedroom, quickly made the bed, and grabbed a towel for her shower. She was aching to tell her friends what had happened, but decided to text from the truck, on the way into town.

  She hoped that Dana and Lucy could meet up this morning. Suzanne had a feeling that once everyone learned that she had discovered Liza Devereaux’s dead body last night, they’d find a few minutes in their busy schedules to hear the gritty details.

  A short time later, Suzanne sat center stage on the front porch of Maggie’s shop, answering questions about her horrid adventure. Last night’s cold snap had passed and the day was sunny and mild for the first week in October. It seemed a shame to waste the fair weather by sitting inside.

  Maggie had spoken to Charles, and already knew about Suzanne’s gruesome discovery. But not much more. Suzanne didn’t doubt it. Charles was notoriously discreet about his investigations.

  Lucy had come to town for her usual morning jaunt with her dogs, Tink, her golden retriever, and Wally, her chocolate Lab. The dogs sat at her feet, working on their chew toys while she worked on her knitting. Lucy’s dogs were usually so calm and well behaved, you’d hardly know they were around. Except when Phoebe’s cat, Van Gogh, escaped from the apartment above the shop. Suzanne hadn’t seen the cat lately, but he did have a way of appearing at the most unexpected moments. Dana had a convenient break between clients and had quickly run up from her office. Though not so quick that she’d forgotten her knitting bag either.

  “She was just lying there,” Suzanne explained, “with this incredibly surprised expression on her face. Her eyes wide open. Just staring up at me.” Suzanne felt a lump in her throat but pushed on. “I felt for her pulse and listened for her heartbeat. But I knew she was gone.”

  “How awful.” Maggie pressed her hand to her mouth.

  “I kept talking to her, hoping she’d wake up and answer. I’ve been present when someone’s passed away. Like my dear Grandma Bella. But that was expected. This was just out of the blue. I finally got a grip and called nine-one-one.”

  Suzanne sipped a cup of coffee Maggie had fixed for her. Relating the events left her shaken. But it was comforting to be surrounded by her friends and look out at Maggie’s garden and feel surrounded by the flowers, too. Had this all been here last night? Why hadn’t she noticed?

  Phoebe was unpacking skeins of yarn from a paper carton balanced on her lap. She looked up and met Suzanne’s gaze. “There are some things you can never un-see, know what I mean?”

  Suzanne definitely did. “I felt as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t get the words out.”

  “Do the police know how she died?” Lucy asked.

  “They didn’t know for sure yet. It must have been a heart attack, or maybe a stroke. Or something burst in her brain? I felt so bad. What if the argument we had did that to her? What if it caused her to just burst a blood vessel or have a cardiac arrest? Maybe she had some awful condition and had never told anyone.”

  “Oh, Suzanne. Don’t even say that. You can’t blame yourself. Believe me.” Maggie gazed at her with sympathy.

  “Kevin and Charles said the same thing. It’s just how I feel. I can’t help it.”

  No matter what people said—her husband and friends, even Charles Mossbacher—Suzanne couldn’t get past the dark, self-blaming thoughts.

  “Charles was there?” Lucy looked surprised. She glanced at Maggie. “Is he investigating Liza’s death?”

  “Seems so.” Maggie shrugged. “We spoke this morning and he told me that he’s on this case. Though I doubt there’s much to investigate.”

  “It’s just that I left things on such an ugly note with her,” Suzanne said. “If I’d only known yesterday what I know now, I would have acted a lot differently, believe me.”

  Maggie shook her head and sighed. She was checking the labels on the skeins and recording the new items on her laptop. “I’m sure you would have. But we can’t see around the corners in this life. For better or worse.”

  Dana hadn’t said much so far. She glanced at Suzanne over the edge of her glasses. “So you told Charles that you felt guilty about making her upset?”

  “Yes, I did. I was sort of rambling. In shock a bit, I guess. But he told me that he’d never heard of anyone accused of murder simply because they’d argued with the person who died.”

  “Didn’t that make you feel better?” she asked.
r />   Suzanne shrugged. “A little.”

  “Oh bother . . . I wasn’t going to say anything and Charles will strangle me if he finds out.” Maggie sighed and shook her head. “But I can’t hear you going on about this heart attack thing. Please don’t fret, Suzanne. You didn’t have a thing to do with Liza’s death.”

  “Did he tell you the cause?” Lucy leaned toward her, and her golden retriever, Tink, sat up with one ear cocked to the side, as if she was interested in the answer, too.

  “He did tell me. They’re not certain yet. But it wasn’t what you think. That’s all I can say.” Maggie looked back at her record keeping with an intent expression. Suzanne could tell she was bracing herself for everyone’s reaction.

  “Come on, Mag. You can’t leave us hanging.” Phoebe whined as if she’d been stuck with a knitting needle.

  Maggie sighed but didn’t look up. “Yes, I can. I’ve already said too much.”

  “If the police are almost certain, it will be in the news soon. Probably by tonight,” Lucy predicted. “Surely we can all avoid Charles until then?”

  “You know we can keep a secret, Maggie. Think of poor Suzanne. You’d really take a load off her mind by telling us the whole story,” Phoebe coaxed.

  “All right. I give up. But you never heard it from me. The medical examiner said last night it was pretty clear that she’d died of anaphylactic shock—an extreme allergic reaction.”

  Phoebe looked surprised. “My boyfriend is allergic to tree nuts. He always carries an EpiPen, just in case. His lungs can close down in less than a minute. It’s really scary.”

  Dana nodded. “My stepson, Tyler, has that problem, too. If you don’t get help, your breathing passages swell up and close. With no air going into your lungs, the person can die from lack of oxygen. Or maybe a heart attack,” Dana explained. “But either way, it still had nothing to do with you, Suzanne.”

  Suzanne felt so relieved at the news, she thought she might cry again. “Thank you for telling me that, Maggie. It really is a load off my mind. You have no idea.”

  Maggie smiled, looking as if her good deed had been worth breaking her word. “I couldn’t watch you beat yourself up about it anymore, honestly. The police won’t know the details until the autopsy is completed. But as Dana said, you may have regrets about leaving things on a sour note. But your argument, however passionate, had nothing to do with Liza’s death. You can rest easy about that at least.”

  “I was tying myself up in knots, thinking I’d caused it. Even remotely.” Suzanne couldn’t help recalling Liza’s shocked expression, her staring, surprised eyes. “It must have been a frightening way to go. I wouldn’t have wished that on anybody.”

  “You don’t need to explain to us. We get it,” Lucy replied in a comforting tone.

  “We know you’d never harm a fly,” Phoebe added. “Except for shouting ‘Get away from me, you fly!’ really loud. And waving your arms around like a wind turbine.”

  Suzanne gave Phoebe a look as her young friend acted out the insect-chasing technique. “Don’t argue with success. That works, doesn’t it?”

  Phoebe kept her eyes on her task. “Only because the fly laughs itself to death.”

  “Good one, Phoebe,” Lucy said.

  “I have my moments.” Phoebe shrugged, patting the skeins into a neat pile.

  “You’re sharpening your game, girl. I’ll give you that,” Suzanne said.

  Dana had a copy of the Plum Harbor Times open on the table, and had been thumbing through the pages while they chatted. “Nothing in here about Liza. I guess the news hit too late to be included in today’s edition.”

  “Channel five was there,” Suzanne said, mentioning a local TV station. “I saw the van as we were leaving. We slipped past just in time. I would have hated to be on TV about this.”

  Maggie looked up from the computer. “A reporter asked Charles a few questions. Since she seemed to have died of natural causes I doubt there’s much of a news story there.”

  “Let’s look online. I bet Plum Harbor Patch has something.” Lucy picked up Maggie’s laptop, which sat on a wicker end table. She quickly struck the keyboard to bring up the local news site that covered events faster than the newspaper or sometimes even the TV news.

  “Here we are. ‘Liza Devereaux, found dead last night on the premises of Prestige Properties, Main Street, Plum Harbor, where she worked in real estate sales. Police were called to the building when the body was discovered and are investigating the cause of death. Devereaux family is planning a memorial service and will make information about the arrangements known soon.’ ”

  Lucy looked up from the computer screen. “I guess the family is waiting for the police to release her body. Whenever there’s an autopsy it takes time.”

  “Nothing we didn’t know. But enough for me,” Suzanne murmured.

  She felt relieved to hear it would be a day or two before the memorial gathering. A bit more time to process the event. She had a feeling Harry would be among the first to hear the details from Liza’s family and had no doubt he’d send the information to his staff.

  “I feel awful for her mother,” Maggie said quietly. “It’s positively unnatural to outlive a child. Such an unthinkable loss.”

  “There aren’t any words to describe it,” Dana said.

  “I only met Ruth Devereaux once,” Maggie said. “Liza brought her here to talk about the knitting demonstration. She’s a lovely woman. I feel I should pay my respects. I’ll attend the service. Send flowers, or something.”

  “Liza knew everyone in town. I have a feeling the service will be standing room only,” Suzanne said.

  Dana took off her reading glasses and slipped them in a case. She looked as if she was getting ready to go. “At least Liza’s sister lives in town and her mother has someone close, to take care of her right now.”

  Maggie rose from her chair and helped Phoebe place the new yarn skeins back in the box. “That should be some comfort. They have each other.”

  Suzanne and her friends sat quietly, at an unusual loss for words. She heard her phone buzz with a text and checked the screen.

  “Thanks for listening again, gang, but I have to run. An SOS from Alexis. She forgot her lacrosse jersey and she has a game today. And I just realized, I can even go and cheer her on, since I have the afternoon off.”

  Suzanne loved to watch her kids play sports, or perform in concerts or plays, but she was always sandwiching in the events between business appointments and was rarely there from start to finish. Today, she’d even be able to get a good seat and not stumble over all the other parents in the grandstands.

  “It’s a perfect day to watch a lacrosse game. It will be great to be outside in the fresh air.” Lucy had packed up her knitting and looked ready to leave, too.

  “Definitely beats my first plan—hang around in my pj’s and watch the shopping channel all day. Maybe have some frozen waffles for lunch?” Suzanne’s confession made her friends laugh.

  Maggie stepped forward and gave her a hug. “Try to put that dreadful episode out of your head. If you want to talk some more, just call me. Any time.”

  Everyone else repeated the offer and Suzanne left with a warm, comforted feeling. She cruised down Main Street, planning a quick stop at home to pick up the jersey and a healthy snack that would give her girl an energy boost for the game. But she couldn’t help slowing down as she passed her office. The yellow police tape was still in place, and a blue and white cruiser was parked in front.

  Why were the police still poking around in there? According to Maggie, they knew how Liza had died. The only question was what had brought on the allergic attack, and how did she accidentally eat it? Or breathe it in, or whatever.

  It might not have been food, Suzanne realized. She’d heard of people being insanely allergic to all sorts of things—bee stings, latex gloves, even some hand creams and face lotions with nut-based ingredients could set off sensitivities.

  All she knew was that
their argument had nothing to do with Liza’s death. Suzanne would never have guessed, but the mere thought that she was somehow—even distantly—to blame for Liza’s demise was her very worst nightmare.

  * * *

  The Plum Harbor Sea Hawks were victorious, pushing their record to six straight wins for the season. Watching the game had been the perfect distraction, just as her friends had promised. Suzanne had been riveted by the action on the field, jumping up and down in her seat so many times, she felt as if she’d made it through a double Zumba class.

  She’d definitely burned enough calories to enjoy the taco dinner her daughter had requested. Suzanne often skipped the shell and some of the trimmings to save calories. But tonight she piled her taco high—practically a work of art, she decided as she prepared to take a bite.

  The rest of the family was already a taco or two ahead of her. Fresh from a shower, Alexis sat in her comfy clothes—a cotton hoody and sweatpants, her long hair still wet and tied in a sloppy bun. Suzanne’s twelve-year-old boys, Ryan and Jamie, sat side by side, as intent on the meal as if they were competing in an eating contest.

  Kevin was at the opposite end of the table, adding some shredded cheese to his dish.

  “I have to go to games more often. I got a workout just from watching. Alexis was awesome,” she told the family. “I wish I had a video of you scoring, honey. She spun around and jumped in the air before she made the shot. I think those ballet lessons finally paid off.”

  “Thanks, Mom. It was just a goal. No big deal.” Alexis was acting her cool teenage self, but Suzanne could tell she was proud.

  Before Suzanne could reply, her phone rang. She sat very still, though her first impulse was to reach into her pocket and answer it.

  She and Kevin had a family rule—no electronic devices at the dinner table. Which included keeping the TV off during mealtimes. She had read that kids were less likely to get involved with drugs and other risky behavior if the family had dinner together most nights, and talked and shared. Without screen distractions.