Murder Loves a Fair

by Thea Cambert

  “No,” said Virginia with a laugh. “I buy honey by the gallon from Whitman’s grocery store for that. But his honey is local and unfiltered, so it fits the bill for my recipe perfectly.”

  “I get cravings for your salads,” said Owen. “And anyone who can make me want to eat a big bowl of raw vegetables is a miracle worker in my book.”

  “Listen,” said Alice, lowering her voice a little and stepping closer to the threesome of ladies. “When you all were working at the Community Center, at Cupid’s Post . . . Did you happen to see Carlotta Taylor there on Thursday morning?”

  There was a pause as Barb, Virginia, and Marge looked at each other thoughtfully. Then Marge’s face lit up. “Actually, I do remember seeing Carlotta there that day!” She looked at her friends. “Remember? There were several of the library volunteers there, working out the details of the conversation heart. Carlotta was wearing that strange outfit—the leopard print pants and red blouse?”

  “Oh, that’s right!” said Virginia. “We were shocked and wondered if she’s in the midst of a midlife crisis.”

  “Either that or she was trying to impress that Norman McKenzie,” said Barb with a snicker.

  “Norman?” asked Owen. “I thought Carlotta hates Norman.”

  “Fine line between love and hate,” said Barb, giving Owen a knowing wink.

  “I’ve really got to run,” said Virginia. “I’ll be back shortly with more flowers.”

  “Let me know if any of you need anything,” said Alice. “I’ll stop by again this afternoon.”

  “Oh, by the way, Virginia,” said Franny, a twinkle in her eye. “Do you know Abner Vordenbaum?”

  Virginia stopped and thought for a moment.

  “He’s a nice-looking gentleman who often comes into the Salad Stop?” Franny continued.

  “Oh, yes, of course!” said Virginia. “Abner is a very nice man.”

  “I think he has a little crush on you,” said Franny.

  Virginia’s cheeks turned pink. “On me? No, I’m sure you’re wrong, Franny. No one has a crush on me.”

  “You might be surprised,” said Owen, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Well,” said Virginia, trying not to smile. “I’d better be on my way. Thank you, Alice. See you this afternoon!”

  “Yes, Alice,” said Barb. “Thanks for your help.”

  As they walked back toward Main Street, Franny resolved to call Abner Vordenbaum to do some matchmaking between him and Virginia, and Alice took out her phone and called Luke. He answered after the first ring.

  “Hi, Sweetie,” he said.

  “Quick question,” said Alice. “Has Doc checked to see whether Norman might’ve been poisoned by asbestos?”

  “He’s in the process,” said Luke. “They’re still running tests. You’ll be glad to hear that Norman is doing a little better today.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

  “But there’s some bad news, too,” said Luke.

  Alice looked at Owen and Franny, who were listening to her side of the conversation. “What is it?”

  “Dr. Smith is headed to the hospital. He’s getting worse and Doc is worried.”

  “Watson? Oh, no.”

  “His symptoms are identical to Norman’s, but not as severe. Doc thinks poison may be involved, and he wants to run tests.”

  “So, maybe it’s not just the stomach bug, then.” Alice suddenly felt a little faint. She sat down on a nearby bench and said goodbye to Luke.

  “Alice, you’re white as a ghost,” said Franny as she and Owen took seats on either side of Alice. “What did Luke say?”

  “That Watson’s headed for the hospital now, too,” said Alice. “Doc’s not sure if it’s poison or the stomach bug.”

  “This is getting scary,” said Franny, taking Theo out of his stroller and holding him close.

  Alice reached out and let Theo wrap his pudgy hand around her finger. “What are the odds that Carlotta Taylor also has some sort of score to settle with Watson?”

  Chapter 13

  It only took a few minutes for Alice, Owen, and Franny—pushing a snoozing Theo in his stroller—to arrive at the Furry Friends Veterinary Clinic, which lay on Azalea Street, directly behind Trinkets, which fronted Main.

  “Now, remember,” said Franny. “As far as Andrea is concerned, we’re just here to check on her husband’s health status. We’re not interfering in police business.”

  Owen snorted. “No one in this town is going to believe that. They all know about our meddling ways.”

  Sure enough, as soon as they entered the clinic, Andrea Smith greeted them from behind the front counter. “Thank goodness you’re here,” she said. “I mean—you’re on the case, aren’t you? You heard about Watson?”

  “Well, yes,” said Alice. “That’s why we stopped by. We heard he’s at the hospital and wanted to check and see how he’s doing—and also how you’re doing, Andrea.”

  “I’m fine, and my poor Watson is going to be fine, too. We heard Norman was poisoned. And of course, poor Stanley. What if Watson was too? I mean, he’s in his late fifties, but in excellent health—”

  “Dr. Smith is in his late fifties?” asked Owen. “Get out of here!”

  “It’s true. We’re both in our late fifties,” said Andrea.

  “You are? I mean—not that that’s old or anything,” said Alice. “It’s just, you both look a lot younger than that.”

  “Sign me up for whatever face cream you use!” said Owen.

  “It’s not face cream that does the trick,” said Andrea, winking at Owen. “It’s exercise and a healthy diet. That, plus we have a strong marriage. We have fun together. Keeps us young.”

  “That’s a true blessing,” said Alice.

  “It is,” said Andrea. “In fact, we were supposed to renew our wedding vows tonight at midnight with everyone else. I guess you’d better scratch us off the list, Alice. Watson’s definitely doing better since being admitted to the hospital, but he’s got a long way to go. Doc’s running all the tests, getting him hydrated . . . I just came into the clinic to check on the animals and our vet tech, Wendy, and to work on cancelling all our appointments for the rest of the day.”

  “Andrea, is there anyone you can think of who might want to harm Watson?” asked Alice.

  Andrea swallowed and looked down at the appointment calendar. “I really am still hoping that Watson just has the stomach bug that’s going around,” she said. “But if he’s not—if someone’s got it in for him—it can only be one person.”

  Alice, Owen, and Franny all leaned forward an inch or so.

  “Myrtle Bodkins,” Andrea said.

  “Myrtle Bodkins?” asked Alice, shocked. “The organist at St. Helena’s?”

  “That’s right. Myrtle Bodkins,” said Andrea. “It’s all to do with an incident that happened a month ago when she brought in her cat, FooFoo, for his annual immunizations.”

  “Something happened to FooFoo?” asked Owen.

  “It was just bad luck,” said Andrea. “Wendy was bringing FooFoo out of the exam room just as Sam Watters—the fire chief—was bringing his dog, Rufus, in through the front door.” Andrea looked at them with a pained expression. “As you all know, Rufus is a German shepherd who does not particularly care for cats.” Andrea put a hand over her heart. “Rufus barked up a storm, FooFoo leaped out of Wendy’s arms and headed for the hills—through the open front door.”

  Just then, Wendy walked in from the back room. “Sorry. I overheard your conversation,” she said. “It was awful. FooFoo ran straight out onto Azalea Street and got hit by a car.”

  “Oh no!” said Alice. “Did he—I mean—”

  “Die?” asked Andrea. “No. Watson rushed him into surgery and saved his life.”

  “But he couldn’t save his right front leg,” said Wendy. “So now FooFoo only has three legs.”

  “But I swear to you, that cat is faster than he ever was!” said Andrea. “He’s doing fine and will probably outliv
e us all. But does Myrtle even acknowledge the fact that the accident wasn’t anyone’s fault? Or that Watson saved FooFoo’s life—and free of charge?” She scoffed. “You know, that woman has always had a big crush on Watson. If it weren’t for the incident with FooFoo, I would’ve thought she was the one who sent him that darn secret admirer love note!”

  “We need to go and see Myrtle,” said Owen. “Maybe she’s out at the fair.”

  “She’s one of our volunteers organizing things at the Community Center,” said Alice, checking her list.

  Andrea looked at the clock. “Nope. It’s noon on a Saturday. I can tell you exactly where to find her.”

  Chapter 14

  While Franny dropped Theo off to spend the afternoon at her parents’ house, Alice and Owen swung by their shops to check in with their assistants, then Alice rushed upstairs and scooped Poppy into her pet carrier.

  “Sorry about this, Poppy,” she said. “I owe you a whole bag of treats.”

  “Where’s Finn?” asked Owen, coming into the apartment behind Alice.

  “Luke comes and gets him midday,” said Alice. “He takes him for a walk and then usually takes him back to the station.”

  “Nice,” said Owen. He peered into the pet carrier at the perplexed Poppy. “Are you ready for your spa treatment?”

  “We’d better get over to Catologie. Andrea says Myrtle and FooFoo never miss their Saturday noon special—and it’s now a few minutes after noon.”

  “Franny’s meeting us there,” said Owen.

  “Good.” They hurried down the staircase and through the not-so-secret bookshelf door in The Paper Owl. Alice gave Lacie, who was busy ringing up a customer, a wave, and they headed back out onto Main Street and walked south, past Crumpets bakery, the Blue Beauty Spa, the Heritage Museum, and across Trillium, where they passed Blue Valley Fit and Shutter Bug’s Photography Studio, and finally came to Catologie—a spa for discerning felines.

  “This is amazing,” said Owen as they entered. “I may have to get a cat just so I can come here. Look at that chandelier!”

  Even Poppy, tucked away in her carrier, seemed to be cautiously intrigued.

  “Welcome to Catologie!” a pink-cheeked, jovial woman sang, coming around the front counter and meeting them near the door. “And who might you be?”

  “I’m Alice Maguire, and this is Owen James,” said Alice.

  “Well, hello, Owen James,” the woman said in a baby-talk voice, bending to peek into the pet carrier.

  “Oh. No—I’m sorry,” said Alice. “This is Owen James.” She pointed at Owen. “That is my cat, Poppy.”

  The woman smiled and nodded. “I am Miss Lizzy,” she announced. She seemed to be speaking mainly to Poppy. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of having you here before, Poppy, so let’s get you comfortable and see what you’d like to do in the way of feline spa treatments today, shall we?”

  She flitted over to a comfortable sitting area and invited them to take a seat on a couch. Alice looked around, mesmerized by the many huge and beautiful photographs of cats—one stalking through the brush, one caught mid-leap, another batting a large ball of yarn with a dainty paw.

  “Now, we offer a full range of delights for both you and your furry friend,” said Miss Lizzie. “You can look over our menu, and then I’ll take you back into the spa for your treatments.” She handed over a large bound menu with a shiny gold tassel bookmark. Alice and Owen looked at the pages, then at each other in amazement.

  There were aromatherapy baths for every imaginable mood, deluxe nail-clipping sessions, blow-dry and fluff with shine seal, massages for you and your human, facial hair trims, and more.

  “I—I don’t even know where to begin,” said Alice, who was just noticing that no prices were listed for the various spa services—which in her experience, couldn’t be a good sign.

  “Well,” said Miss Lizzie, who had reverently removed Poppy from her carrier and was now gently scratching her behind the ears, “since you’re new to Catologie, and, as luck would have it, you’ve come at the noon hour on a Saturday, I would suggest you consider our special Pretty Paws treatment. Poppy will be treated to our full nail package, a brush-out, and fifteen minute massage, while you two get manicures of your own.”

  “That sounds lovely!” said Owen. “We’ll take it!”

  Alice looked at Owen, raising her brows. “Good choice, Uncle Owen,” she said, then whispered, “How much is this going to cost?”

  “Very good!” sang Miss Lizzie, who hopped up from the couch and tucked the menu under her arm. “This way.”

  They followed her through double glass doors, and emerged in a large room that was even more luxurious than the first. There were various different areas where felines and their humans were enjoying fancy drinks and snacks along with their spa services. There was even a smoothie bar, where customers could order anything from a Blended Tuna Cream to a piña colada served in a pineapple shell with a tiny umbrella sticking out.

  “I never want to leave this place!” said Owen, sitting down and presenting his fingers to the manicurist. Then he leaned closer to Alice. “Look—there’s Myrtle.”

  Alice got up and walked over to the area where Myrtle sat next to an extremely fluffy three-legged cat who was getting his fur blow dried.

  “Hi, Myrtle!” said Alice. She looked at the cat. “Oh—what a beautiful cat!”

  Myrtle smiled warmly at Alice. “Hello, Alice.” She looked down at her cat. “FooFoo, this is Alice Maguire. Mummy knows her from church.”

  Alice might have been imagining it, but she could’ve sworn that FooFoo sent a subtle but regal nod of acknowledgement in her direction. “Very nice to meet you, FooFoo.” Alice shifted her attention from the cat to Myrtle. “I wanted to thank you for your help organizing the vendors for the fair.”

  “Glad to help,” said Myrtle. “I see you and Owen have brought a cat with you. What a pretty little calico!”

  “That’s Poppy,” said Alice. “It’s her first time at Catologie.” Alice looked at Poppy, who was now in the midst of her brush-out and looked to be in kitty heaven. “I think she’s already hooked.”

  “My FooFoo always knows when it’s Saturday,” said Myrtle. “He sits by the door waiting for me to bring him here!”

  “What an amazing cat! And from the looks of him, he gets around just fine.” Alice lowered her voice. “I, uh, heard about his unfortunate accident.”

  “Accident,” said Myrtle with a huff. She reached over and covered FooFoo’s ears and lowered her voice. “More like blatant negligence.”

  “Really? Is FooFoo in any . . . pain?”

  Myrtle pressed her lips into a thin line. “No, thank heaven. But I don’t think I can ever forgive Watson.”

  “Dr. Smith?”

  “He’s always had his head in the clouds. I should’ve known his staff would be the same.”

  “So you’ve known him a long time?”

  “We were classmates at Blue Valley High a million years ago,” said Myrtle. “We even had a few dates back in the day, if you can believe that.”

  Alice was struck by the fact that Myrtle and Watson were the same age—another testament to the value of health and fitness.

  “All finished, FooFoo,” the spa technician said, holding up a mirror so that FooFoo could admire himself.

  “We’ll see you next Saturday, Gwen,” said Myrtle, standing to go. “Nice to see you, Alice. I’d better drop FooFoo home and get back over to the Community Center. Lots to do!”

  “Good to see you, Myrtle,” said Alice.

  “Oh—and say hello to your dad,” said Myrtle. “He was also in our graduating class way back when.”

  “Was he? So you and Watson and Dad were all grew up together?”

  “Yes, we did,” said Myrtle with a smile. “And Blue Valley was even smaller back then, of course. We were a pretty tight knit group.” She turned to leave.

  “Hey, Myrtle,” Alice called before Myrtle and FooFoo made
it to the exit. “Was Norman McKenzie in your class too? I think you’re all about the same age, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Myrtle. “Norman was our class clown.” She chuckled and then waved goodbye.

  “See you at church!” Alice called after her. She took a seat next to Owen. “Did you get all that?” she whispered.

  “Yes, I did,” said Owen.

  Just then, Franny came into the spa room, wide-eyed as she took in the place. “Are you kidding me? This place is gorgeous! Talk about the lap of luxury!” she said, giving Poppy a pat. “Sorry I’m late. I had to feed Theo and get him settled in.” She looked around. “No Myrtle? And also, can humans come here?”

  “Myrtle just left,” said Alice, pulling Franny down onto the couch next to them.

  “And get this,” said Owen. “Myrtle went to school with each of the men who got anonymous love letters.”

  “Myrtle? Seriously?”

  “She even used to date Watson,” whispered Alice.

  “And she’s been at the Community Center every day, because she’s volunteering there,” said Owen. “She could’ve left the blank envelope.”

  “We need to call Ben and Luke,” said Alice. She glanced over at her cat, who was dozing while the technician filed her nails. “If I can ever get Poppy to leave this place.”

  Chapter 15

  While Owen and Franny headed out to the fair, Alice ran Poppy back over to her apartment. When she set the pet carrier onto the floor, a fluffy and decidedly superior kitty stepped out, looked around, and then hopped up onto Alice and Luke’s bed, where she wedged herself between their pillows and yawned.

  “Now don’t go thinking we’re going to Catologie for the noon special every Saturday,” Alice said, patting Poppy on the head. “But maybe on special occasions. Or I bet we could get Uncle Owen to take you now and then.”

  Alice made the mistake of sitting down on the bed, and suddenly felt the urge to take a nap. But a glance at the clock told her she didn’t have time. The afternoon Main Street workshops would be starting soon, and Owen and Franny would be waiting for Alice there. Her stomach growled, and she realized she’d never eaten lunch. Poppy opened an eye and looked at Alice.