01 - Playing with Poison (18 page)

I shook my head and swallowed a sigh. “So, where exactly do you live?” I changed the subject. “Not downtown?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You plan on paying me a visit, Ms. Hewitt?”

I told him not to flatter himself and waited until he informed me he has a place out on Lake Lookadoo. “Below Belvidere Mountain,” he said. “You know the area?”

I tilted my head toward the mountains in the distance, outlined under that spectacular moon. “You live in the boondocks.”

“Yep.” Rye stood up. “And I think I’m done answering questions.”

“One more.” I pulled him back down. “Where did you learn to shoot pool. You’re very good, you know?”

“Gee thanks.”

“Just answer the question.”

“My commanding officer in the Air Force taught me.”

Again he got up to leave, and we walked downstairs.

“You still haven’t told me about your mother,” Rye said as we made it to my door. “What did she do?”

“She was a bank teller.” Snowflake and I walked inside. “Daddy used to joke that they both liked the feel of cold hard cash between their fingertips.”

“And you ended up a writer?”

“Mother read a lot. Daddy was away most nights, so she read romances to while away the time. She still does.”

“She’s still alive then?”

“Yes, Captain. And her name is Mother.”

I picked up my sack of rocks and shut the door.

***

I erased a message from Louise Urko without bothering to listen and called Karen.

“Good Lord, Jess. Did he finally leave?”

“Finally. And if I’m expected to stay awake any longer, I must have chocolate.”

“Anything specific?”

“Surprise me.”

Five minutes later, Karen was at my door armed with a package of Hershey’s Kisses, and the tea kettle was whistling on my stove.

“Should I even ask what you and Rye were doing all that time?” She gave me a Candy-like look and took a seat at the counter.

I turned away to find the tea cups. “We were talking about the murder.”

“Yeah, right.”

“The three of us were up in the garden. Ask Snowflake if you don’t believe me.”

“And?”

“And I wish that she would stay away from the edge. She especially loves to torment me by sitting on your railing.”

“It’ll hold her.” Karen bent down to acknowledge Snowflake. “But what about the murder, Jess? What did Rye say about Kiddo?”

Nothing I’m allowed to share, I thought to myself. I avoided the question and worked on pouring the tea.

“I’m more interested in what you learned from Evan,” I said. I walked our cups over to the coffee table. “It looked like you guys were having a real heart to heart.”

“He’s looking to put a gazebo in his backyard.” Karen followed me to the easy chairs, candy in hand. “When Bryce told him I build stuff, he got interested.”

“Oh?”

“So I lied. I quoted him a ridiculously low price and promised I’d be able to get it done within the month. Then I got down to business and asked about Stanley.”

“But that’s fantastic, Karen. What did he say?”

“We talked about the company they work for—Something Or Other Dent. And then I asked how business was, and Evan got kind of nervous. So I kidded him a little about whether he could afford this gazebo he has planned.”

“Believe it or not, I really don’t care about that gazebo.”

“Hey, it kept the guy talking.”

“Good point,” I agreed and unwrapped a Kiss.

Karen continued, “It sounds like the office politics at Something Dent are from hell.” She shook her head. “Man, I don’t miss that.”

“Don’t tell me you ever worked in an office?”

“For ten years. I was a bookkeeper at Mountain Top Real Estate.”

I scowled. “I can’t quite picture you at a job that doesn’t require a tool belt.”

“Try picturing me at a job that required pantyhose.”

I glanced at her work boots.

“Like, every day,” she said. “I hated it.”

“And Stanley’s office?”

“Get this.” She sat up and Snowflake jumped from her lap to mine. “Stanley got a promotion to senior something or other right before he died. According to Evan, there were lots of people in the company who weren’t too happy about it.”

“Jealousy,” I said, remembering Audrey and Ezekiel.

“I guess maybe. Stanley was a lot younger and hadn’t been there as long as some of the others. Evan says there was a lot of back stabbing going on.”

“Any names? Anyone I should pay particular attention to?”

“Huh?”

“I met a few of Stanley’s colleagues at the funeral,” I explained. “Lord help me, I even told a woman, Vikki, that I need some advice on my investments. You know, now that Stanley’s gone?”

Karen’s eyes got wide. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going down there?”

Yes, I suppose I actually was. Snowflake gave me a disapproving look, and I remembered my promise to Rye to stop sleuthing. But that was only at The Stone Fountain, correct?

“I’ll just poke around and see what I can learn.” I tried sounding confident.

“Man, I wouldn’t have a clue how to snoop around like that.”

Neither did I. But surely I would think of something.

“Any insight from Audrey’s astrologer?” Karen asked as she went for another Kiss.

“Jealousy,” I said. “Ezekiel the Astrologer says someone was jealous of Stanley. But, alas, he didn’t have Stanley’s time of birth, so he couldn’t be more specific.”

“Jealousy,” Karen repeated after swallowing. “At least we’ve got ourselves a theme.”

Chapter 18

“Are you awake?”

“Barely.”

I rolled over to check the clock on my night stand and wasn’t surprised to see it was after eight o’clock. I seldom sleep past five, but the past few days had wreaked havoc with my normal routine.

Normal routines. I groaned quietly, rolled out of bed, and made a bee line for the coffee pot.

“Why the hell are you calling me at this hour?” I asked Rye.

“Are you always this pleasant in the morning?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” I pressed the on-switch and opened some blinds to another beautiful day. “And no, actually. I’m usually up and writing way before this.”

“Candy Poppe’s bond hearing is first thing on Judge Singh’s docket this morning,” Rye informed me. “She should be released by ten o’clock.”

“Thank you,” I stopped mid-blind. “Really, Captain. Thank you.”

“I thought you might be interested.”

“There’s still no chance of Carter O’Connell getting out?”

“We been over this already, Ms. Hewitt.”

“Well,” I whined. “If you’re willing to admit Candy might be innocent, then maybe Carter is, too.”

“Have you ever even met the guy?”

I blinked at Snowflake. “Umm, no.”

“But you still insist he’s innocent? Based on what?”

I gave up. Arguing with Wilson Rye before my morning coffee was far too challenging. I thanked him again for his help with Candy and promised to be there at ten to pick her up.

“I thought that might be the case.” He stayed on the line while I chose a coffee mug.

“Is there anything else, Captain?”

“We’re still in agreement, right? You’re going to keep quiet about the continuing investigation?”

I rolled my eyes and promised not to mention it to anyone, but he still didn’t hang up.

“Anything else?” I held the coffee pot aloft, waiting for who knows what.

“Well,” he sang. “I’m just a little curious is all.”

“Oh?”

“Last night when you were asking about my family—my parents and kids and cats?”

“What about them?”

“I’m wondering why didn’t you ask about my wife?”

“What!?” I spilled the coffee and burned my hand.

I did some quick thinking as I sucked on my index finger. Hadn’t Candy assured me ages ago that Rye was single?

“Ms. Hewitt? Are you still there?”

I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. “Okay.” My voice was exceedingly calm. “What about your wife?”

“I don’t have one of those,” he said and hung up.

***

Why me?

But I had too many other things on my mind to worry about whatever it was Rye wanted me to worry about. I showered and dressed, promised Alexis and Rolfe I would get them out of their current fix as soon as I got Candy out of hers, and drove to the police station.

I was trying to figure out where to go when a uniformed officer took pity on me. She directed me to a narrow hallway lined with straight backed chairs reminiscent of the one Alexis Wynsome had rested her curvaceous bottom on in Maynard Snipe’s turret.

I sat my own skinny butt down and waited, staring at the closed door, through which I imagined Candy would emerge. Lord knows, there was nothing else to stare at. The drab beige hallway had no windows, no pictures, no outdated magazines piled up on an ugly end table. I almost felt like I was the one imprisoned.

I checked my watch occasionally, and by 10:15 had begun to worry something had gone wrong at the hearing. When Lieutenant Densmore came out to join me, I was sure of it.

“The captain told me you would be here,” he said. “How are you, ma’am?”

“I’ve been better, Lieutenant.” I invited him to sit. “Is Candy okay?”

“The paperwork’s taking a little longer than usual,” he said as he took the chair next to me. “It’s not every day we let a suspect in a first-degree murder out on bail.”

Now, how exactly was I supposed to handle that statement? Especially since I had no idea how much Rye confided in this guy? I mumbled something about getting a headache and resumed careful watch of the door.

Densmore watched with me. “You know,” he said after a few minutes. “I just can’t figure it out.”

I looked up. “What’s that?”

“Who murdered Stanley Sweetzer. Can you?”

“All I know is Candy’s innocent.” I caught myself. “No matter what your boss says.”

“And you’re innocent?”

I blinked twice. “You don’t happen to have an Advil on you?”

“I think we should keep looking.”

I blinked again. “For the murderer? But Captain Rye has closed the case, correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. Once we get your sofa returned, we’ll be finished with this one until the trial.”

My couch. Here was a problem that might actually have a solution. I asked the lieutenant when I might expect to get it back.

“We can probably deliver it this afternoon. Would that be convenient?”

“Fine with me. Just don’t tell Audrey Dibble.”

“Let me guess, she has some weird problem with your sofa?”

“Apparently it’s hazardous to my chakras.”

Densmore chuckled. “Interviewing the Dibbles all week has been pretty entertaining.”

“Audrey thinks it was jealousy, you know? She thinks someone was jealous of Stanley—either of his love life, or his job, or his money.” I studied the lieutenant for a reaction, but he stared at the door and refused to catch my eye.

I leaned forward and tilted my head, blocking his view of the stupid door. “Is that what you think, sir?”

Densmore looked at me. “I think it’s about the money we found. The Captain’s told you about that, right?”

“He has. And if Stanley didn’t win it from my ex, I would love to hear your theory.”

“That money got him killed,” Densmore said firmly. “Think about it, ma’am. Stanley Sweetzer was a fairly average guy. He had a good job and a pretty girlfriend. A nice apartment, some friends. Nothing out of the usual, except the load of cash in his apartment—”

“Jessie!” Candy teetered in the doorway.

I jumped up and ran to greet her.

***

“Can we have tea?” Candy asked for the third time in a row.

I stopped at a red light and once again assured her tea was on the way. “But let’s get you home first, okay?”

No answer. She stared out the passenger window and chewed her knuckle. The light turned green and I hit the gas.

We repeated the same, not so compelling conversation several more times before we made it into our building, where I steered her toward the elevator. But the thing never works, and while I was busy throwing a few bad words at it, Mr. Harrison popped his head out of his door. I could have sworn the man was actually smiling, but I had too much on my mind to worry about the peculiar mood swings of Peter Harrison. I waved politely, guided Candy into the stairwell, and up to my place.

Bless her heart, Snowflake made a to-do the moment we entered. She purred and purred, and wrapped herself around Candy’s ankles, making it almost impossible for her to walk.

Despite the cat, Candy followed me into the bathroom where I handed her my coziest, plushiest terrycloth robe.

“Take a shower,” I told her. “It’ll make you feel better, and then we can talk.” I held up a hand before she could ask again. “With tea.” I closed the door and waited to hear the water running before moving to the kitchen.

As I puttered around the stove, I noticed another message from Louise Urko blinking on my answering machine. This time I pushed the button and listened.

“Jessica!” Geez Louise’s scream startled poor Snowflake. She jumped up and hissed at the phone jack as Louise informed us she had news. “Call me!”

I braced myself and dialed.

“Jessica!” She answered on the first ring. “I have fantastical news! I mean, beyond fantastical!” I held the receiver about a foot away from my ear as Louise continued, “Adelé’s made
The Times
paperback list!
Windswept Whispers
will be number four by the weekend! And don’t even get me started on your e-book numbers. Off the freaking chart! Blockbuster, Babe! This is it!” she shrieked. “It!!”

Oh, my Lord. Making
The New York Times
Bestseller List really is ‘It!!’ I did a little dance of joy around the kitchen counter, twirling a teaspoon over my head, and singing ‘Blockbuster, Babe,’ while Louise chanted a few thousand ‘Fantasticals.’

Who knows how long we would have gone on like that if Louise hadn’t gotten a grip.

“Gotta go,” she chirped as we both came up for breath. “I’m off to Three P to do the lunch thing.” Three P is our affectionate nickname for Perpetual Passions Press, my publisher.

“They’re looking to re-negotiate your contract,” Louise continued. “They want to release
Temptation at Twilight
in hardcover! Can you even believe it, Jessica? Hardcover!”