Murder Loves a Fair

by Thea Cambert

  “Sorry,” Alice whispered, standing to go. “I’ll be back later.”

  She decided to swing by the Salad Stop Café since it was directly across the street from the workshop area, and grab one of Virginia’s salads to go. By the time she walked up to Owen and Franny, who, along with Michael, were talking to Marge and Koi and helping to hand out candle-making materials to the workshop participants, Alice had consumed an entire Chef’s Special salad.

  “Alice, why are you holding an empty salad container?” asked Owen.

  “I was, um, feeling a little bit peckish,” said Alice.

  “If you’re still hungry, I’ve got just the thing,” said Barb Blake, who had just walked up carrying a tray of chocolates. “Freshly-made truffles! I’m handing them out to all of the candle-making participants as a way of encouraging them to stay for our Chocolate-Dipped Fun class!” She held out the tray and Owen and Franny each took a truffle. Just as Alice reached for one, Barb pulled the tray back. “Wait, Alice. You should definitely try this one, over here—the one shaped like a tiny beehive. I only have one left.”

  “How beautiful!” said Alice, taking the candy.

  “I know how you love honey-flavored things,” said Barb.

  “Mmm,” said Alice, letting the confection melt in her mouth. “Oh, Barb, that’s amazing! And since your mascot at Sugar Buzz is a bee, this could be your signature truffle!”

  “You know, we don’t have an official signature truffle. Great idea!”

  The delicious honey flavor made Alice think of Virginia and her beehives. “By the way, where’s Virginia?” she asked, glancing over to the area where the Edible Flower workshop was to be held.

  “She just called,” said Marge, walking over. “She’s on the way back from the farm as we speak.”

  “Looks like you’ve got a full house for candle making,” said Alice, nodding at the tables full of would-be candle makers, working on their projects as Koi walked around among them.

  “Yes, we do!” said Marge. “What fun!”

  “We’re already running low on stock of the fair candles at the bookshop,” said Alice. “They’re selling like crazy—especially the chocolate-smelling ones.”

  “Music to my ears,” said Marge. “After this weekend, Koi and I will start creating our Independence Day collection.” She sighed happily. “I just love the Fourth of July, when the whole town goes out to the lake. Are you and Ben going to be in the big race again this year?”

  “Are you kidding? We can’t be stopped!” said Alice, laughing.

  She and her brother entered the Blue Lake Independence Day Pedal Boat Regatta every year—and very often won—in their souped-up pedal boat, the Maelstrom Vortex.

  Alice’s cell phone rang—her mother calling. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Alice, I’m concerned about your father. He should’ve been on the mend by now from the stomach bug, but he’s still not feeling quite right. I’m just letting you know that Doc is sending us over to the lab at the hospital to do some bloodwork. I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else and panic.”

  But Alice did feel a wave of panic washing over her. “Oh, no. Is he—is he still getting sick? How long has it been?” Alice thought back. “Let’s see . . . he got sick about twenty-four hours ago . . . Mom, I’m coming with you.”

  “Now, Alice, dear, don’t worry. Your dad is going to be just fine. We’re just going in for tests out of an abundance of caution. We’ll be back at the house this afternoon, I’m sure. I’ll call you soon with an update. Meanwhile, there’s no reason for you to go with us.”

  “Okay, Mom. But call me.” Alice said goodbye to her mother and clicked off the phone.

  “What’s wrong?” Franny asked.

  “Dad’s going to the hospital,” said Alice.

  “Are you serious? Let’s get over there,” said Owen.

  “No, Mom says not to go. He’s just going in for some bloodwork because he’s having a hard time kicking the stomach bug and Doc wants to be extra careful, considering all that’s going on.”

  “I sure hope he’s not in the same boat as Norman and Watson,” said Owen.

  “Surely not,” said Franny, who looked worried all the same.

  “Let’s think about this,” said Alice. “Let’s think about common denominators.”

  “Between the poisoning victims?” asked Franny.

  Alice nodded. “First, we know that Dad, Norman, and Watson all received love notes from a secret admirer.”

  “Right,” said Owen. “And since Watson apparently has a subscription to the fountain of youth, we also know that all three of them are in their late fifties.”

  “More than that, they all graduated in the same class,” said Marge. “Sorry—I was eavesdropping.”

  “That’s okay,” said Alice. “I didn’t realize that.”

  “But I thought Norman didn’t move here until later,” said Owen.

  “He moved back here later,” said Marge. “He’d moved off to Nashville after high school. Then he moved back, built a business, fell in love with Pearl Ann, and the rest is history.” She snickered and looked around, spotted Barb and waved her over. “Hey, Barb, remember what we used to call Martin, Norman, Watson, and their little group of friends?”

  Barb thought for a minute, then her face lit up and she pointed at Marge.

  “The Broken Hearts Club!” they both said at once.

  “The what?” Alice’s draw dropped. “My dad was part of a club that broke people’s hearts?”

  “Yep,” said Barb, nodding. “Well, not an official club or anything like that. We girls named them that. They were a group of guys that liked to, as they say, play the field.”

  “Those sly devils,” said Owen. “Who’d have thought?”

  “But don’t worry, Alice,” said Marge. “This was before your dad met and fell in love with Bea. She was a few years behind us in school. He was a goner from their very first date.”

  “I might need to sit down,” said Alice, feeling a little dizzy. Her cell phone rang again. This time, it was Luke. “Hi, Sweetie.”

  “Alice, I just saw your dad at the hospital. Ben and I were there consulting with the lab.”

  “Mom called. She said he’s just stopping in to get some bloodwork done. Did he look okay?”

  “A lot better than Norman, Watson, and Stanley,” said Luke.

  “Please tell me you have some news on the investigation,” said Alice, taking a seat on the bench that Owen and Michael had led her to.

  “Just between us—and because I know you’re worried sick about your dad—I’ll tell you what we know. Norman and Watson both ingested the same poison, but it’s been very complicated to find out what it is. It’s not one of the usual suspects, if you know what I mean. Of course, we don’t know about your dad yet. Hopefully he just has the stomach bug.”

  “So did they get cyanide, like Stanley?”

  “No, it was something different. And like I said, it’s clearly something they’d ingested, not inhaled.”

  “What about the envelope the person left with payment for Norman’s anonymous love note? Any fingerprints?”

  “None except for the ladies who were working the Cupid’s Post area. That tells us that the person likely wore gloves.”

  “What about the anonymous love notes to my dad and Watson? Were there cash envelopes for those too?”

  “Nope,” said Luke. “Those orders both came in via the internet, but the credit card used was untraceable. It was one of those pre-loaded cards, like the ones you give as a gift.”

  “So there was no poison in the love notes . . .”

  “Nope. They were clean.”

  Alice felt the panic returning, thinking about the whole situation—and worst of all, of the realization that her dad might be in serious danger.

  “How are Stanley, Watson, and Norman?”

  “All still in the hospital. Stanley hasn’t come around yet. Norman and Watson are both improving—Watson faster than Norm
an.”

  Alice and Luke wrapped up their conversation and Alice filled Franny, Owen, and Michael in, then stood to get back over to the workshop area. She felt a wave of dizziness and sat back down. “Wow. I don’t feel so good.”

  “Alice, you’re turned a hideous pasty white color,” said Owen, taking out his cell phone, putting it in selfie mode, and holding it in Alice’s face so she could see herself.

  “Oh, gosh! I look awful!” said Alice. “Shouldn’t have stayed up so late at the dance last night. And then I couldn’t sleep, worrying about the poisoned love notes and Dad and everything . . .” Alice suddenly felt tears stinging her eyes. “I’m not crying!” she said.

  “Then what is this wetness all over your cheeks?” asked Michael gently. “Owen, let’s take Alice home. She needs to snuggle up in bed for a while.”

  “I agree,” said Owen. Then his expression turned from concern to fear. “Wait. What if the same person who poisoned the Heartbreakers or whatever they’re called saw that Alice was poking around and decided to silence her? What if Alice has been poisoned too?” Now Owen’s voice had risen to a shrill new height, prompting Franny to rush over.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Alice has been poisoned!” said Owen, hands flying to his mouth.

  “She has not been poisoned,” said Michael, laying a calming hand on Owen’s arm. “At least we don’t think so. She might just be tired. Or she might have the stomach bug.” He turned to Owen. “And remember, Alice never received a love note from a secret admirer. And she’s not a middle-aged man. She doesn’t fit the perpetrator’s MO.”

  Owen nodded. “You’re probably right,” he said, still nervous.

  “I think I just need a little rest,” said Alice. “I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, and now I’m paying for it.” She carefully stood again, feeling less shaky this time. “I’d be willing to bet this is nothing a little nap can’t cure.”

  But as Alice walked with her friends toward home, she wished she felt more sure of that.

  Chapter 16

  Alice woke up to the sound of Poppy purring right in her ear. The little calico, while normally very persnickety about where she chose to nap, had lately taken to curling up right on Alice’s head—like some kind of odd, furry hat. Or, if Alice was sleeping on her side, Poppy would attempt to wedge herself right between Alice’s chin and her chest.

  “Poppy, you’re suffocating me again!” said Alice, gently coaxing the cat a few inches away. “How long have we been asleep?” She rubbed her eyes and blearily looked around the room.

  “A couple of hours,” said a kind voice from the doorway—a voice more dear to Alice than almost any other.

  “Granny! What are you doing here?” Alice sat up in bed, threw back the fluffy quilt, and started to stand.

  “Now you just sit right back down,” Granny ordered. “I came by to check on you.”

  Granny Maguire was Alice’s father’s mother. After Alice’s grandpa had passed away, Granny—instead of spending the rest of her days swallowed up by grief—had set her own adventurous spirit free. She’d traveled the world, learned new languages, tried exotic foods . . . and when she’d felt ready to settle down again, she’d moved back home to her cozy cottage on Azalea Street, right next door to her dear old friend Chester Lehman, who owned Blue Valley Hardware. As time went on, Chester admitted that he was nuts about Granny, and the two had married the previous summer. Then, when Chester moved into Granny’s cottage, he’d sold his house to Franny’s parents who were set on moving back to Blue Valley to be near their new grandbaby.

  “I slept like a rock,” said Alice. “I don’t normally take naps. It feels weird.”

  “Groggy?” asked Granny, bending to give Finn a pat.

  Luke had been home when Alice had fallen asleep—rushing over when Franny called him to tell him that Alice wasn’t feeling well.

  “Yes,” said Alice, rubbing her head. “And a little dizzy.” She paused and looked at her grandmother. “Granny, I’m afraid. What if I’ve been poisoned too?”

  “I don’t think you have,” said Granny, coming to sit on Luke’s side of the bed with Alice and pulling the quilt over both of them, with Poppy in between. “And we Maguire women are tough as nails. You’re going to be just fine.” She passed Alice a small bottle of ginger ale, and then cracked one open for herself. “Now. I know what will help you feel better. Let’s talk through what’s happened.”

  “You mean, with this crazy mystery of the anonymous love notes?”

  “Yep,” said Granny. “Tell me everything from beginning to end. We’ll solve it from the comfort of this room.”

  “Okay,” said Alice, taking a sip of the ginger ale and starting to feel a little better. “It all started Thursday morning, when Stanley was playing Cupid. He was delivering a bouquet of flowers, even though flowers weren’t one of the Cupid’s Post options.”

  “Suspicious right from the get-go,” said Granny.

  “He took a whiff of the flowers and fell to the ground, coughing. Poisoned by cyanide in the blooms.”

  “Poor Stanley,” said Granny. “Then what happened?”

  “Then Owen took over as Cupid. He delivered a note from a secret admirer to Norman. Later that night, Norman got sick. Also poisoned, but by something he ate or drank. We found out that Carlotta Taylor is furious with Norman.”

  “So, Carlotta might be the poisoner . . .”

  “Right. But then Watson was next. He also received a love note from a secret admirer, and he also got sick with the same poison as Norman. And we found out that Myrtle Bodkins was furious with him.”

  “Myrtle Bodkins from St. Helena’s?” asked Granny.

  “Yep,” said Alice. “She blames Watson for an accident that left her cat three-legged.”

  “Oh, my,” said Granny, covering Poppy’s ears.

  “Don’t worry. FooFoo is just fine.” Alice looked out the bedroom window, into the garden, now bathed in pink, early evening light.

  “What does your instinct tell you about these two suspects—these two angry women?” asked Granny.

  Alice sighed. “When I really think about it—when I really consider Carlotta Taylor and Myrtle Bodkins . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t imagine either of them poisoning anybody. Of course, I’ve been wrong about this kind of thing before.”

  “You can’t always tell about people,” said Granny. “But I say trust your gut.”

  “And then there’s Dad.” Alice sighed sadly.

  “Oh—good news about him,” said Granny. “He’s back home, feeling better.”

  “He is?” Alice perked up, feeling a heavy weight lift off of her heart.

  “Yep. Your mom has him settled at home, and Owen just left here to run by and drop off a whole stack of bird watching magazines.” She chuckled. “Turns out your dad was poisoned, just like Norman and Watson. Something he ate.”

  “He was?” Alice sat upright in alarm.

  “Now, settle down,” said Granny, reaching over to pat Alice. “Martin also had the stomach bug, so the good news is, he hardly ate anything and then threw up the little bit of poison he’d gotten. He’ll be as good as new in a few days. So you see, sometimes even the stomach flu can be a blessing in disguise.”

  “I just keep going back to the same thought,” said Alice. “What do all these victims have in common?”

  “And?”

  “They all received anonymous love notes—that is, except for Stanley, who was delivering flowers to someone, I’m guessing Norman. If only he were conscious, he could tell us where those darn flowers came from and who they were for.”

  “Get back on track,” said Granny. “What else do they have in common?”

  “They’re all the same age. They all went to high school together.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Granny. “What else?”

  Alice slumped back into her pillows. “I can’t think of anything else.” Then s
he paused as a lightbulb turned on in her mind. “Wait a second. They have something else in common.”

  “Yes?”

  “They all received love notes—”

  “You said that one already.”

  “No—but in each of those love notes were gift cards for the Waxy Wick, Sugar Buzz, and the Salad Stop Café!”

  “Which means, assuming they used the gift cards—”

  “They have another thing in common! They would’ve all gone to those three places before getting sick!”

  “Ah-ha!”

  “And isn’t it strange that those three businesses were owned by three women who also went to school with Dad, Norman, and Watson?”

  “Let’s see. I know Marge Hartfield owns the Waxy Wick. And Barb Blake owns Sugar Buzz with her husband, Doug . . .”

  “And Virginia Swanson owns the Salad Stop Café.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize Virginia owned that place,” said Granny. “Chester and I never eat there. He’s more of a Smiling Hound kind of guy.” She chuckled. “I know Virginia, though. It’s been many years since I’ve spoken to her, but she actually had a few dates with your father when they were kids.”

  “Seriously? Virginia and Dad?”

  “Well, this was back before he dated your mother,” said Granny.

  “Was this when Dad was part of that group of boys—what were they called?” Alice tried to clear the fog from her mind.

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Granny. “The Lonely Hearts Club? No, that wasn’t it . . . The Love ‘Em and Leave ‘Em Club?”

  “The Broken Hearts Club!” Alice finally remembered.

  “That’s it!” said Granny. “Although to be honest, I don’t think your father dated around as much as those other boys—especially Norman and Watson.”

  Alice frowned. “Granny, is there anyone you can think of—any girl who grew up in Blue Valley and is here now—who dated all three of them?”