Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case (10 page)

Vonnie sounded as tired as her daughter must be, but I was tuned in more to the mention of a contract. Did Sherry own the property?

Sherry waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. I’m just sorry Lilyvale is losing you and S.T.”

“Thank you. We’re sorry to leave such a nice place.”

“What about all your stock?” Sherry asked. “Will you be opening a store in Texas?”

Vonnie’s hair brushed her collar as she shook her head. “No, no. S.T.— that’s my husband, Nixy—is in the workroom now making going-out-of-business signs. I’m contacting designers and dealers we know, so that will help. If anything’s left”—she shrugged—“it’s yours.”

“Fred would be in hog heaven,” Sherry said with a smile. “How soon will you be leaving? I’d like to take you both to dinner before you go.”

“You are so kind.” Vonnie patted Sherry’s hand. “We plan to be out by June first, but anytime you want to show the building, we’ll accommodate you. I keep the living quarters tidy, and I can spruce up a bit more if I have a heads-up. Or will you list with an agent?”

Bingo! Sherry did own the building. That would be another source of income for her. I glanced around the huge space packed with true antiques and collectibles, and with plain old stuff. The place surely generated income if it was easy to lease and the rent fee wasn’t eaten up in taxes.

“I’ve shown it myself in the past,” Sherry was saying, “but I may list it with Angela.”

“She’d be a good choice,” Vonnie agreed just as the bell at the door announced a customer.

Vonnie called out a greeting, then grasped Sherry’s hand. “Thank you again, Sherry, for everything. I promise we’ll get together before I leave.”

She rose to take care of her customer, and Sherry asked if I’d like to look around. I declined. This stop had given me the perfect opening to ask Sherry about her finances.

“I don’t mean to pry, Aunt Sherry,” I began, my voice low as we stepped onto the sidewalk, “but did I understand right? You own this building? The same one that used to be Stanton’s General Store?”

“Yes, and a couple of properties off the square. I charge a modest rent to keep the buildings occupied.”

“So you have some alternate sources of income?”

“Have you been worried about my finances, child?”

“I did wonder how much you and your housemates might need to live together to conserve funds. I mean as opposed to wanting to share the house for the company.”

“Well, I won’t speak of anyone else’s business, but we do just fine. All of us,” she stressed, and then linked arms with me. “As for my affairs, Granddaddy didn’t sell off
all
the land he owned, and Daddy bought more. Most of that is forest land. I’ll show you on our tour.”

I remembered the many trucks I saw on the drive to Lilyvale that were hauling long logs. “This forest land. Do you harvest the trees?”

Her lips quirked. “I don’t, but the logging company does. They rotate cutting among eight properties, but they don’t clear-cut. I insisted on an ecological approach.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Naturally, Daddy left the properties to both Sue Anne and me. Your mama asked me to buy her out when your daddy was so sick, so we arranged a payment plan.”

My dad had died of colon cancer the summer I graduated from high school, and I realized with a deep pang that that’s where the money had come from to treat Dad and pay for my college education. I worked during college, too, but I suddenly felt humbled and sad that my mother had given up her inheritance to fund my studies.

Sherry patted my arm. “It’s what Sue Anne wanted, child, and anyway it will all be yours someday.”

I smiled through misty eyes. “Not for a very long time, I hope. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

And I didn’t. Like a punch in the gut, it hit me that the aunt I’d liked but didn’t really know had become very important in these last few days.

We strolled on, arms companionably linked, passing a dry cleaner that advertised laundry service and a tailor. Then came Nifty Nails, Helen’s Hair Salon, and a beauty supply store, which Sherry said were all owned by two sisters. Men’s Unlimited occupied the corner space by the other end of the main drag, and it looked to carry every kind of men’s and boys’ clothes from suits to overalls. I wondered if Fred bought his overalls there. We window-shopped at the furniture store and another women’s clothing store, nearly coming full circle on the square.

By now, cars packed almost every diagonal and parallel parking space. The sidewalks weren’t crowded by Houston standards, but we passed shoppers hurrying in and out of stores and citizens heading to and from the courthouse and county annex building.

“Small as Hendrix County is,” Sherry said as she pointed to the building, “there isn’t nearly enough room in the courthouse for all the offices. The city offices are in the building behind this one, on the other side of the alley. Did you want to stop somewhere, or are you ready to do our driving tour?”

“Let’s roll.”

•   •   •

I DIDN’T NEED A GREAT SENSE OF DIRECTION IN
Lilyvale because the layout was simple. Especially compared to Houston. I had a mental map going as Sherry directed me past the small but modern-looking hospital, the small county library in a cute 1940s building, and the school complex where the elementary, junior high, and high school buildings shared the same sprawling campus.

As a dozen more landmarks flew by, I absorbed the spring smells, the intense greens of the grass and trees, the vivid colors in the gardens and in the roadside wildflowers. Sherry pointed out her yellow pine forest lands—not all of them connected to each other—and we passed several industrial buildings set back off the road closer to town. One firm manufactured lamp shades, Sherry told me. Another made bar soap for boutique hotels. We also passed what Sherry said were branch offices and special labs of a timber and chemical company.

“Did Dab work for that firm?”

“Yes, but not at this location. Take the next turn and we’ll have lunch. It’s a hole-in-the-wall, but it’s the best barbeque this side of Magnolia.”

I wasn’t all that hungry until the aroma wafted through the open windows. Then my stomach growled so loudly that Sherry laughed.

We toured awhile longer after lunch, but Sherry began messing with her bangs again.

“Do you need a haircut, Aunt Sherry?” She blinked at me as if I’d spoken Greek. “I noticed you fuss with your bangs on and off. If they’ve gotten too long, we can stop at your salon.”

I thought her gaze looked suddenly guarded, but then she smiled. “I’ll make an appointment for next week. I’d rather go home and get back to the family relics. We never did find that paperwork to apply for historical designation.”

That certainty that something was off about Sherry surged again, but really, what could I do?

Go along with the program, I decided. And I did.

At least I now knew that Sherry had an income stream. Several of them. Huge relief there. And since Sherry said the rest of the Six did “just fine,” I had to accept that. Really, their finances weren’t my business. I mentally checked that inquiry off my list.

Two concerns down, one to go—get Hellspawn off Sherry’s back.

Back home and fortified with tall glasses of sweet tea, Sherry and I began digging through the history-packed trunks again shortly before Eleanor came home. She informed Sherry she’d made copies of the agenda for Tuesday’s meeting and that she was going to work on an improved still design for Dab in her room. Minutes later, a horn tooted. The mailman, Sherry said. I offered to run out to the box, but she wanted to check on her crepe myrtle.

When she came back to the parlor, though, she held a clear plastic box of chocolates.

“Someone mailed you candy?”

Sherry grinned. “No, this was on the porch swing. We always get one or two boxes after the festival, but we still don’t know who sends them.”

“There’s a Be Sweet sticker on the box. Why not just ask at the store?”

“Pooh, that’s no fun. This way I feel like we have secret admirers. Want one? I believe these are nougats and caramels and creams.”

She held the container of six yummy-looking milk and dark chocolates, but my waistband felt tight enough. “Thanks, but I’ve eaten too much during this visit.”

“In that case I’ll eat mine and Fred’s. He doesn’t care for chocolate.”

She popped a piece of candy, wiped her fingers, and reached for the folder labeled
FAMILY TREE
. With the barrette out of her hair, her bangs hanging over one eye, she picked up the magnifying glass and we began cross-checking birth and death dates.

Nearly half an hour later, we’d finished the dates check when Fred, Aster, Maise, and Dab come in the back door.

“We’re in here,” Sherry called out.

Aster strolled in, smiling. “Did you two have a good day?”

“Aunt Sherry gave me the grand tour,” I answered. “How was yours?”

“Excellent.” Her gaze landed on the candy box. “Oooh, is that chocolate from Mr. or Ms. Anonymous?”

“You know it,” Sherry said, and lifted the box. “Want your piece now?”

“I’ll save mine for dessert. I’m going to garden awhile, and Maise’s gone up to finish her book before we start dinner.”

“We’ll be ready to help.” Sherry eyed the candy, shrugged, and selected another piece. “What are Fred and Dab up to?”

Aster waved a hand toward the back. “Fred’s going to help Dab set up the one still in the barn. Or, I should say Dab is letting Fred do it because Fred is driving him nuts.”

“Eleanor’s been upstairs working on a redesign.”

Aster chuckled. “I’ll let her know what the guys are up to. She’ll need to run interference on the project. See you later.”

Sherry chewed her candy, then chugged some tea. “What’s next, Nixy? Find the historic designation paperwork?”

“Actually, there are probably new forms online by now.” I nodded toward the desktop computer sitting on the library desk near the front windows. “Can you run a search for the procedure and forms while I put some of these papers in order?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Sherry drained her tea glass, fired up the computer, and was soon clacking away on the keyboard. The magnifying glass helped me examine documents, but I still had to squint at faded ink on birth certificates, letters, and bills of sale.

We worked in silence until the chair Sherry sat in squeaked, and I realized she wasn’t typing. “Did you find the information, Aunt Sherry?”

“What?” she said faintly.

Alarm bells went off in my head. I dropped the letter in my hand and rushed to kneel beside her. “Sherry, what’s wrong?”

“Sick. Help me. Fred’s bathroom. Door over there.”

She pointed toward the far corner of the room, her hand trembling even more than her body. I got her in the bathroom, but we only made it as far as the walk-in shower before she sank to her knees and retched. I held her hair back, and when the first spasms passed and she didn’t keel over, I grabbed two white washcloths and wet them. One I laid across the back of her neck; the other I used to wipe her face. Her clammy face. Her breath smelled funny, but like what? I shook my head. It would come to me.

“Aunt Sherry, do you have these spells often?”

“Never.”

“Do you have diabetes or any other condition?”

“The candy, child. Don’t think it . . . was quite—”

I tended to Sherry while she emptied her stomach again, praying that I’d hear Maise come downstairs. Or that someone—anyone—would come in.

Meanwhile, my own gut churned in a mass of gnarled fear, disbelief, and fury because I’d finally recognized the funny odor.

Garlic.

The chocolates hadn’t just been off. They’d been poisoned.

THE SECOND I COULD SAFELY LEAVE SHERRY
curled up on the tile floor, I dashed for my phone and yelled for Maise.

My hands shook so hard, I fumbled the phone before I could hit the phone icon and dial 911. I didn’t stop there. I ran out to the back deck and screamed for help. Thank God Aster didn’t have acid rock blaring today.

The emergency operator answered after what seemed an eternity but was probably seconds.

“I need an ambulance at . . . Shoot, I can’t remember the address. But hurry. I think my aunt has been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Maise’s voice boomed behind me. I turned as she rattled off the house address, and I repeated it. Aster stood with her.

“Where?” Maise barked.

“Downstairs bathroom.”

“Move out, Aster.” They rushed inside and I felt a rush of gratitude that Maise had nursing experience.

I spotted the other housemates hurrying from the barn. Fred’s walker clanked ninety to nothing as he strove to keep pace.

“Stay on the line,” the operator instructed. “The EMTs are en route.”

“You’re going to hear me talk to other people, but I’m here.”

I broke the news to Eleanor, Dab, and Fred, even as we heard sirens blaring in the distance.

Eleanor took charge. “Fred, go to the porch and direct the EMTs to the back deck. It’ll be easier to handle the stretcher from there. Dab, see if you need to shift furniture to clear a path in the parlor. I’ll find Sherry’s insurance cards. I do believe I know where she keeps them.” She briefly squeezed my arm. “You go back to her.”

I did, but Aster barred the bathroom door. “We found her crawling to the toilet, muttering about Bill. She’s indisposed right now.”

“The ambulance is coming.”

“I hear them, honey. The police will be here, too, so better move that candy box somewhere safe.”

Could a person feel herself pale? If so, I did.

I whirled, my gaze darting, seeking the Be Sweet box, and finding it under the papers I’d dropped when I’d leapt up to help Sherry. Should I put the box in a bag? Would the police want to lift fingerprints? Sherry had handled the box, and who knew how many others? What the heck.

I grabbed a flat paper bag that held enlarged photographs, dumped the photos and gathered them in a neat pile, and then eased the box inside, touching it only with a pen. Dab gave me an odd look but went back to wrestling with one end of the sofa. I placed the bag on the computer table, then helped Dab scooch the couch out of the way.

EMTs stormed the room a minute later with a stretcher and big black cases of equipment. With Maise and Aster supporting her, Sherry emerged from the bathroom, deathly pale and shaking. The paramedics got her seated and began taking vitals, asking questions, starting an IV line. I answered questions about the onset of symptoms, Maise answered those about Sherry’s medical history and her primary physician’s name. Rattled as I was, I felt nothing but grateful that Sherry’s housemates had her medical information. My roommate, Vicki, couldn’t have provided any fact but my age.

The EMTs were moving Sherry to the stretcher when a large, warm hand landed on my shoulder. I whirled to find Eric Shoar there, his expression grave.

“Nixy, I know you want to go to the hospital, but I need a minute first.”

I nodded, and, after I stopped to snag the bagged candy box, we threaded our way through the rescue team and housemates to the back deck. There the young black Lilyvale officer I’d met at the station stood at attention as if guarding the house.

“Here,” I said, handing him the paper bag. “It’s the candy Sherry ate before she got sick.”

“You told the dispatcher you suspected poison. Why?”

“Because she was fine before she had the two pieces of chocolate. We’ve been together all day.”

“You ate the same things?”

“Not for breakfast at Lilies Café, but we split a barbeque sandwich plate at lunch. Besides, I smelled garlic on her breath after she was sick in the shower. That’s a sign of some kind of poison, but I don’t remember which one.”

“How do you know that?”

“I dated a guy doing a residency in ER medicine. He talked about cases.”

He didn’t make the smart remark I could see hovering on his tongue. Good thing, or I’d have punched him. The seniors were taking this more calmly than I’d hoped, while I felt like a blubbering mess.

“Do the paramedics know about the odor?”

“One of them checked Sherry’s breath.”

“Good. Now, did the ladies clean up the emesis? Do you know?”

“You’ll have to ask them. Eric, I can’t lose Aunt Sherry.”

His brown eyes went soft with sympathy, and he enfolded me in a loose, supremely comforting hug. That nearly undid me.

Probably would have, but an EMT pushed the kitchen screen door open and carefully lifted the wheels at his end of the stretcher over the threshold. Sherry looked so frail, eyes closed, and hooked up to an IV and oxygen. I choked back a sob, my chest aching with the effort. But I had to keep it together.

“Come on.” Eric cupped my elbow and steered me back inside, where Maise was issuing orders.

“I’ll ride with Nixy. Dab, you feel up to driving everyone else?”

“I’ll start the car.”

“Maise, a moment,” Eric said as Aster and Eleanor trotted off to get their purses. “Nixy says Miz Sherry Mae was ill in the shower. Did you clean it?”

“No time, and we figured you’d want to run tests.”

“I’m calling in a county CSI tech so I can come to the hospital. You okay with leaving the house unlocked if I leave the officer out back here?”

“Yes, yes,” she said dismissively. Eleanor and Aster were back, and Aster handed Maise her purse. “Nixy, where is your bag?”

“Parlor.” I spun away, found my purse in the chair. Keys? Clipped to my purse. Phone? In my capris pocket. Focus? No. Determination? Hell yes.

We arrived at the hospital right behind Dab and crew, and all headed straight for the check-in desk, Maise taking the lead.

“Sherry Mae Cutler came in by ambulance,” she told the thirtysomething ER receptionist. “We have her insurance cards.”

“You’re family?”

I stepped closer. “We’re all her family.”

The woman gave us a skeptical look, then typed on her keyboard. “Mrs. Cutler is being processed in. If you’ll take seats in the waiting area, someone from Admitting will be out to get her insurance information.”

“Can one of us be with her now?” Aster asked.

“I’m sorry, no.”

None of us liked her answer, but we trooped to the open waiting area meant to hold waiting patients and family alike. Except we were the only people waiting. Eleanor handed Maise something as they and the men sat in thinly upholstered institutional chairs along the wall. Aster pulled a small spray bottle from her purse and discreetly spritzed over her head.

“Water-diluted lavender oil,” she said and sprayed each of us.

Fred scowled but kept silent, his gray eyes angry slits. Dab didn’t look as dapper as usual, but he sat without fidgeting. Eleanor and Maise looked worried. When she finally sat, Aster rested her cupped hands in her lap and closed her eyes. Meditating, I guessed.

I couldn’t sit still. I picked up a hospital pamphlet that told me Lilyvale Hospital boasted four ER treatment rooms, twenty beds, a variety of surgical services, and affiliation with the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences South. Residents in the rural training track specialized in family medicine, delivering patient care in the ER, surgery, even obstetrics. Fine, well, and good, but I wanted the best for Sherry. If we had to transfer her to Magnolia or elsewhere, so be it.

When a middle-aged woman in a poly-blend pantsuit entered the waiting area carrying a clipboard, Maise rose to give her the insurance cards. The woman would’ve photocopied and returned them, but Maise insisted on tagging along. Something useful to do, no doubt, because Dab was suddenly bent on taking vending machine orders. Eleanor went with him, and they returned with bottled water, colas, crackers, and a coffee for me. The strong, acidic brew wouldn’t do my fear-cramped stomach any favors, but sipping it kept my hands busy while my thoughts raced.

Not one of us said a word about who could have poisoned the chocolates. We didn’t have to speculate. We had a suspect in mind, the only suspect that made any sense. Hellspawn had gone way too far this time.

•   •   •

TIME WARPS IN A WAITING ROOM. IT HAD WHEN I’D
been stuck in one after my mother’s stroke, and it did today. Every minute lasted hours. The outside ER doors opened now and then. A deliveryman came and went. A couple with a small boy who sounded like he was coughing up a lung rushed in. The child and parents were whisked through the double doors leading to the ER inner sanctum, but no one came out to speak to us.

The town grapevine must have been at work, too, because neighbors and friends of Sherry’s came by. Aster, Maise, and Eleanor spoke with them, then kindly sent them away. Desperate to distract myself, I leafed through old sports and entertainment magazines. That didn’t help much. I could only think of Sherry. I couldn’t go home until I was sure she’d be well and safe.

When the ER whooshed opened again and Shoar strode inside, I catapulted from my seat to hustle over to him, then hesitated when a woman dressed in a uniform similar to the Lilyvale PD’s followed him. Was she a county deputy? He veered toward our group, but the woman stopped in the automatic door, and then Hellspawn herself stormed in. Gripping Trudy’s arm, she marched to the desk with the female cop on her heels.

“I need help right now,” Hellspawn demanded. “My assistant is sick.”

The witch tossed her cap of black hair in that odd asymmetrical cut, glared at Eric, and abandoned Trudy at the desk.

“Detective, I’m telling you, someone tried to poison me.”

Eric nodded. “So you told me and Deputy Paulson outside, but it’s your assistant who’s ill.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The candy was meant for me, I’m sure. If Trudy hadn’t taken it, I’d be at death’s door.”

Trudy’s ashen face lifted and for a moment her eyes blazed. “That’s a lie, Jill. You told me to . . . Uh-oh. Bathroom,” she choked out as she doubled over.

The ER receptionist pointed down the hall, and the law enforcement lady supported Trudy as she lurched from the counter.

“You need an evidence bag, Paulson?” Eric called after them.

Paulson flicked a hand. “Got it covered.”

Hellspawn? She didn’t so much as bat an eye at Trudy’s distress. Instead she pointed at our group. “These people must be the culprits. If you don’t do something about them this time, I’ll have your badge.”

I think I actually growled as I shot forward. “Knock it off, you bald-faced-lying b—”

Eric threw himself in my path so I couldn’t wring her neck.

“Ms. Elsman,” he said sternly, “Mrs. Cutler was also poisoned this afternoon, and both the Lilyvale Police Department and the Hendrix County Sheriff’s Office are investigating.” He took a deep breath. “Do you still have those chocolates?”

She shrugged. “How would I know? Trudy had them in her room, the little thief.”

My mouth gaped open so far, the whole state would’ve fit inside. Before I could gather my wits and give Hellspawn her own good reason to be in the ER, the detective took her arm.

“I need to collect that candy box, Ms. Elsman, and I need you to come with me immediately. Nixy, I’ll be back later to check on Miz Sherry Mae.”

Hellspawn gave me a departing sneer that bounced right off of me. Because before they got out the door, a young man wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck walked through the ER doors.

“Cutler?”

“Here.”

We swarmed the poor man.

“How is she?” Maise barked.

The guy backed up a step and held up a hand. The hospital ID card on his lanyard read
R. HAWTHORNE, RESIDENT
. “The ER doctor asked me to come tell you Mrs. Cutler is in serious condition.”

“Is she conscious?” I whispered.

“On and off, but she’s disoriented.”

My breath seized and my vision blurred with tears. I almost missed his next statement.

“We’ve contacted her primary care physician, and he’ll be by. Either the doctor or I will be out to update you in a while, but it could be a few hours yet. Due to her age, she’ll probably be admitted for further observation.”

A dozen questions swirled, but the doc-in-training escaped.

And just then Paulson returned from down the hall with a sack that looked like an airsickness bag. Discreet.

Bless Aster’s heart, she immediately asked after Trudy.

“A nurse took her back to the ER directly from the bathroom.” Paulson shook her head. “That’s a strapping gal, but she’s one sick puppy.”

With that she left. By unspoken consent, I trooped back to the back-breaking chairs with Sherry’s friends.

“Well,” Eleanor said firmly, “I do believe we’ll want to rotate staying with Sherry tonight.”

“No,” I jumped in. “I’ll do it.”

“You think we’re too old, missy?” Fred sapped.

I blinked at his scowl. “No, but I should be the one who stays.”

“Why?” Dab asked.

“Because I didn’t notice she was sick sooner. I didn’t stop her from eating the candy in the first place.”