“I wonder what secrets our Senator is taking with him.” Lou shook his head.
“I can tell you a couple he’s sharing,” said Faraday. “His body is riddled with syphilitic lesions. He must have contracted the disease at a very early age.”
“He and his wife never had kids,” said Lou. “I wonder if that’s the reason.”
“Doubtful,” said Faraday. “It’s rare for syphilis to be the cause of male infertility. Of course, it is possible that his wife chose to abstain from sex because of the disease.”
“Or he contracted it because they had an unfulfilled sex life,” said Lou.
“Or his interests ran in another direction,” said Showalter. “Wouldn’t be the first time that a man got married rather than come out of the closet."
"I can also tell you that if he hadn’t died of poisoning, he was soon to expire from cirrhosis of the liver," and Faraday paused. "Which oddly enough also prolonged his life."
"What do you mean?" asked Lou. “Back up a step. Was he or was he not poisoned?”
“I think he was poisoned." Faraday stared down at the open cavity with its wetly purple shapes.
“But you’re not sure?” Lou asked.
“No, and I won’t have a definitive answer until the toxicology screen comes back. That said, look at all these crystals in his kidneys.” To illustrate, Faraday offered his extended hand. In the cradle of his palm rested a drooping overlarge kidney bean sliced in half. The inside was decorated with yellowish pearls. With a gloved finger, Faraday removed one and held it up for inspection.
"See these?" Faraday pointed to a cluster of shards. The thin, sharp edges reminded Lou of the crystals he'd grown as a kid from a kit. "Must have caused him a whole lot of pain."
“Any ideas what sort of poison it was?” Lou asked.
“Not yet. I'll send the samples to the lab for tests.”
“No guesses?” Lou was getting a second wind.
“I’d put my money on ethylene glycol. Commonly known as antifreeze.”
“Why?” asked Lou.
“All the signs are here.” said Faraday, pointing to a container with ugly brown slush inside it. “It would have been easy enough. The Senator liked his tea Southern-style with lots of sugar—and I know that from reading about him over the years—it would have been easy enough to introduce the poison to his drinks. But that being said, the fact that the Senator liked to imbibe liberally saved his life. It's complicated chemistry, but the metabolites from the ethylene glycol bound together with the alcohol and mitigated the damage done by the poison."
"In layman's terms?" asked Lou.
"Someone was poisoning the Senator, but it probably took that person a whole lot longer than he expected to get the job done. The alcohol in the Senator’s bloodstream offset the poison. Checking his urine for crystals should tell me what we need to know.”
“Quickly?”
“Not in this case,” said Faraday. “He was dosed with small amounts over time and—”
“I meant, can you tell us quickly whether it was ethylene glycol or not?”
“I’ll call you as soon as I have an answer,” said Faraday.
“Poison,” said Lou, shaking his head.
“Your second homicide this week,” said Faraday. “Busy. Especially for a small department like yours. Of course, there’s always the possibility that the two deaths are the work of one killer.”
“Right,” said Lou.
Only point of connection, one name, linked Josiah Wentworth and Kathy Simmons.
Cara Mia Delgatto.
60
~Cara~
9 a.m. on Sunday
Cara Mia’s apartment
The Treasure Chest didn't open on Sundays until noon. I slept late, waking drowsily to look at the clock and close my eyes. But staying in bed all morning wasn’t an option. I had too many things to do.
Still…I’d been dreaming about a man. He’d taken me into his arms and kissed me and…
What happened next?
I couldn’t remember.
Through my half-opened eyes, I watched Luna’s whiskers twitch in her sleep. She’d fallen totally in love with Nathan Davidson. When he walked me back inside the store, the gray cat had come flying off the top of the refrigerator and landed in his arms. Wrapping her front legs around his neck, she’d rubbed her face against his over and over.
“You didn’t even bother to play hard to get,” I said to Luna, as she yawned in my face. “Meet the man once and you’re smitten. Girlfriend, are you always so forward with men you hardly know?”
Her answer was to switch her tail at me.
Jack pushed her aside so he could lick my face.
“Okay, I get it. You’re hungry, right?”
It had become a habit for everyone to arrive at the store around ten for breakfast. MJ and Skye alternated weekends, but they still liked to stop in on the Sundays they weren’t scheduled. That gave us plenty of time to plan out the upcoming week. The ritual had become the highlight of my life. Not only did MJ and Skye enjoy talking shop, they also shared fashion advice, diet tips, and on occasion, glimpses into their private lives. Slowly, surely, the three of us were becoming best friends.
I wondered what they’d say about my evening with Nathan Davidson. I’d almost expected him to kiss me goodbye. In fact, I would have welcomed it. After we talked about Poppy and the Wentworth situation, the rest of the evening was enjoyable. He proved to be a well-read, well-traveled man, who loved the outdoors. I liked hearing about some of the cases he’d encountered in his career. In return, he wanted to know about St. Louis, my family, and how my son was doing.
All in all, the best time I’d had in ages.
The memory put a spring in my step as I whipped up a frittata, adding lots of leeks and asparagus to the eggs and potatoes. Once that was in the oven, I toasted slices of bread. After they popped up, I put them in a toast rack, an English convention we should use here. By holding the slices vertically, side by side, the rack keeps them from getting soggy. I wrapped the whole shebang in foil and put it in the oven so the bread would stay warm. After mixing the frozen orange juice, I set a big pot of coffee brewing. While the wonderful fragrance of food filled the air, I rummaged through my desk. Finding a pen, a pencil, and a piece of paper, I sat down to work on a Zentangle design. I began by drawing a string, which might best be compared to a scaffolding or skeleton. Next, I filled the spaces between the strings with different repetitive patterns, called tangles. As I worked, it occurred to me that I should probably go take teacher training, like Kiki had done. If I became a CZT, a Certified Zentangle Teacher, we could offer classes here at the store. We’d learned that having special events brought people through the door. Once they visited us, they tended to make a purchase.
Becoming a CZT would also give me a reason to work on my tangles regularly.
While Jack ate in his crate, Luna crunched kibble under the folding card table. I quickly moved into a zen-like state. My pets seemed to have agreed to a wary détente. They weren’t friends, not yet at least, but they weren’t fighting with each other either.
The coffee was filling the carafe when Skye came downstairs, dressed for her job at Pumpernickel’s. Her server's uniform surprised me. Even though MJ was scheduled to work the sales floor, I'd been hoping that Skye and I could spend the day working on new craft ideas for the store. She looked at my tangle and said, “That’s gorgeous! Where’d you learn to do that?”
I smiled. “My friend Kiki taught me.”
“I could never do that,” she said, with awe in her voice.
“Of course you can. I can show you,” I offered.
“Some other time. I told them I could work a full shift at Pumpernickel’s today. Marcia’s kids are sick with the measles. Nora’s kids have it too. I guess it’s going around.”
Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. "Are you okay?" I asked.
"Allergies. By the way, don't worry about resupplying our handmade items. I'v
e got a few new ideas buzzing around," she said, and her face lit up the way it always does when she's being a craft diva. "Wait until you see."
"I know I'll love them," and I gave her a hug before she ran out the front door.
I switched on the small transistor radio that we on an upper shelf, a lifesaver in hurricane season. Senator Josiah Wentworth's death topped all the news stories. Condolences for his wife were coming in from all over the world. One reporter touted an exclusive with Jenny Beth. She’d answered a few questions about the Senator’s career. The piece ended with Jenny Beth proudly proclaiming, “The Senator’s legacy must go on, and I intend to see that it does.”
What legacy? I asked myself.
I really needed to bone up on Florida politics.
The back door flew open. EveLynn marched in, carrying a big cardboard box. Carrying a smaller box and a shopping bag, Honora came in behind her daughter. After EveLynn left (without a word to me!), my newest hire started hot water for tea and began unloading tools for her new workspace.
“The frittata has five minutes to go,” I told her.
Honora pulled the hatpin out of her hair and took off her straw boater. A ping told us that she’d dropped her hatpin. She bent at the waist and scanned the floor.
But after crawling around on my hands and knees, I didn’t locate the pin.
“Not to worry,” she said. “It will turn up.”
MJ and Sid arrived at the same time.
“I’ve got something totally awesome to show you,” said Sid. “Check this out! Remember, I got the shopping basket up last night?”
“Yes,” I said, although I didn’t remember. I knew he’d been busy, but I hadn’t questioned what he was doing.
“Look at this! Can you believe it?” He leaned over my computer and punched in a half-dozen keystrokes. “See? Honora? MJ? You, too!”
He turned the monitor toward us. At first, I thought I was reading the report wrong. The numbers were that staggering. Overnight we’d sold several hundred dollars’ worth of Honora's miniatures.
Rubbing her hands together with glee, she said, “I better get back to work.”
“More good news,” said Sid. “Look at this, MJ. Three leads for Highwayman paintings. Can you believe it?”
“You’re kidding,” she said, coming closer to scrutinize the information.
"Way to go, Sid!" I said. I gave him a one-armed hug. “That’s absolutely terrific!”
I would have said more, but our land line rang.
“Thanks again for having dinner with me last night,” said Nathan. “I enjoyed myself. I hate to ask this, but you remember what I told you about the department being shorthanded? I was wondering if I could come over and talk to Sid. We need help with a computer problem. You know Ollie Anderson? Lou’s partner? Ollie’s sick with the measles. So is our ace computer guru. Frankly, I’m out of options. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to sign Sid on as a consultant.”
"Of course you can come by. But whether Sid chooses to work for you is up to him. If you hustle, you can join us for breakfast.”
"On my way!”
61
~ Cara~
“What was that all about?” asked MJ. “You’re blushing.”
“Nothing,” I waved her away.
“Oh, right. Nothing? You’ll have to do better than that.” She crossed her arms and tapped her toe.
“Leave her be,” said Honora. “She’ll tell us when she’s good and ready.”
I explained why Nathan was going to join us for breakfast. I finished by saying, “Sid? Whether you want to work with him is entirely up to you. I’ll back you up, whatever you decide.”
“I…uh…it sounds totally sick!”
“You might want to wait and see what he’s asking of you, child,” said Honora, putting a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Yeah, good point,” Sid agreed. “But it sounds like CSI for computers. Totally awesome. Except that I’m supposed to be working for you, Cara.”
“I’ll consider donating your time as doing my civic duty. If Davidson needs too many hours, we’ll revisit the situation.”
“Got it.”
We’d barely finished our conversation whenthe police captain walked in, carrying a Dell notebook computer under one arm. Luna came out of nowhere and once again threw herself into his arms. Nathan managed to juggle the computer and the animal admirably. I took her from him, although she struggled to be free of me.
“Lucky for you that you’re so coordinated,” I said. “If you hadn’t caught her, she would have dug her claws in and climbed you like you were a tree.”
Davidson laughed. “I used to play catcher on a baseball team. Of course, a mitt would have been helpful in this situation.”
“That cat has no shame,” said MJ.
“None,” I agreed.
“One could argue that she’s highly intelligent,” said Honora. “She knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to make a commitment.”
I turned my back on the group, so they couldn’t see how furiously I was blushing. “Okay, the frittata is ready. So is the toast. Help yourselves. Can I pour you coffee, Nathan?”
“I never say no to coffee. Especially if it doesn’t come out of a machine.” He pulled up a chair next to Honora. Sid gulped down his food and wiggled restlessly in his chair.
Luna wound her way through Nathan’s legs, purring loudly.
“Where did you get this cat?” asked Nathan. “She’s certainly a sweetheart.
“She inherited Luna from Kathy Simmons,” chuckled Honora, as she stirred her tea. “Her roommate dropped it off. Skye says that we’re nine parts retail shop and one part no-kill shelter.”
“Ah,” said Nathan. "That reminds me. Cara, do you have any way of tracing the photo that Kathy Simmons bought from you? Could you even describe it?"
"I can do better than that," I said. "A copy of it is hanging right next to you on the bulletin board. Darcy Lahti dropped off the original when she brought me Kathy's cat.”
“Could I have the original?” he asked.
“Hang on a sec."
I went to my desk and fished around.
"Here," I said, taking the empty seat next to him and handing over the photo. "You’re now have the original. Skye scanned it into my computer and made several copies. I put one copy on the bulletin board as a reminder that I’m carrying one in my purse to give to Kathy’s mother at the funeral. Since Kathy bought the framed photo for her mother, it seems like the right thing to do. I've been meaning to tell Lou I have the photo, but I got busy and I wasn't sure that it mattered."
"I'm not sure it does either," Nathan admitted.
62
~Cara~
Ethan and Sid made themselves comfortable in my office. They didn’t close the door, but their voices were low enough that they could converse in private.
“Cara? I am totally down with this,” Sid said, stepping out to speak to me. “The only problem is that we’ll need to use your desktop computer, too. Is that okay?”
“Why?” I asked.
“I can’t do anything until I copy the hard drive on the Kathy’s notebook. Otherwise, I run the risk of losing stuff.”
This was really an inconvenience, because I’d planned to spend more time on Pinterest. I could do that on my iPhone. Although for seeing craft ideas and décor trends the tiny phone screen just didn’t cut it. I hesitated and considered telling them they’d have to take their computer sleuthing elsewhere.
But the two men were staring at me with eager eyes, and I knew their mission was important. So I gave in.
But not without a small protest. I asked, “Could you take that little computer to the police station? Work on it there?”
Nathan turned to Sid. ““Have you had the measles? Or been vaccinated against them?”
“I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because I have three people out with the measles, and two who think they are coming down with it.”
Oh well. I mentally threw up my hands.
“Sid? Old buddy, old pal,” I said. “We need to get you a measles shot. In the meantime, you need to stay out of places where a lot of people congregate. Especially if you ever want to be a father.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.
“Uh,” I turned red. “Your turn, Nathan. I’ll leave you to explain the facts of life to our young friend here.”
“Aye, aye, captain,” said Nathan with a mock wave.
I went out onto the sales floor, feather duster in hand. It wasn’t the most productive use of my time, but at least it would keep my hands busy and free my mind up to think about promotions.
We really did need a second computer or two. Buying them zoomed to the top of my “to do” list. The cash register in my head went "ca-ching," as money flew out of the drawer.
Money. When you don’t have it, every problem is exacerbated by the lack of it. When you do have it, problems are merely inconveniences.
Still, the newfound success of our website’s shopping cart sent a shiver of excitement up my spine. Was it remotely possible that we could double our business? If this early success was any indication, things were looking up.
“Could you help me load a couple of these into my car?” MJ asked. She had one Highwayman painting in each hand. “I have a client up in Port St. Lucie who wants to see them.”
“Great,” I said.
We stood outside, debating over whether to spread thick pads in the trunk of the Cadillac or on the passenger’s seat in the back, when EveLynn rolled up. She took the parking space right next to MJ’s car, giving us no space to maneuver on the passenger side.
“That settles that,” said MJ, rolling her eyes.
Without greeting or preamble, EveLynn climbed out of the car and walked over to me. Standing inches from my face, she said, "I want to go over the descriptions of my merchandise with you, Cara. I checked the website last night and you don't have accurate descriptions of the fabric content."
Kiki Lowenstein Books 1-3 & Cara Mia Delgatto Books 1-3: The Perfect Series for Crafters, Pet Lovers, and Readers Who Like Upbeat Books! Page 112
