A Geek Girl's Guide to Arsenic (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

I hustled through the crowd at the Craft Faire. After inching along the highway from Agatha’s house in five o’clock traffic and waiting behind a line of tour busses to find a parking space, I had to hike across the entire field and wait in another line at the gate where employees were bottlenecked by newly hired badge checkers. I tried waving and making eye contact with the maidens at the gate, but no one recognized me. Friday night meant bigger crowds and added staff, half of whom came from the local high schools and theater troops. None who knew me from Merlin.

By the time I got through the castle gates, my feet were sore and my disposition was shot. Offloaded bus riders wore matching shirts and some pulled wheeled trollies, like the lady who slept outside my old apartment. I wiggled around the slower ones and drafted behind the speedy ones. I was a big step closer to clearing our products’ reputation, saving Grandma’s company. It wasn’t even too late in the season to save Christmas sales. I chugged along, pumping my arms like a mall walker and chanting the
Little Engine That Could
theme.
I
think I can.
I
think I can
.
Get out of my way!

When Guinevere’s Golden Beauty wagons came into sight, I dipped an arm into the crowd and nabbed a sample basket from the counter. I could pass out promotional materials while asking tough questions. I’d keep smiling. Keep representing. Keep selling. And seeking truth.

“There you are!” Bree clamped icy fingers around my wrist before I could get the basket back to my side. “I need to get to the brothel, and Tom has to relieve Linus. He’s got some kind of stomach flu, and I don’t want Gwen to catch it.”

“Be right there.” I yanked loose and kept moving, smiling and waving all the way to Surly Wench.

Where I got in another line. “Free sample?” I delivered product to every patron leaving the counter.

Ten minutes later, I reached the register with a nearly empty basket. Sure, a fair share of the people tossed the samples in the nearest trash bin, but they saw me out smiling as if nothing was wrong because nothing was wrong. Our products were amazing and we were going to be fine.
I
think I can.
I
think I can
. “Hi. Remember me? Nate’s friend? I came here the other day asking about John Francis.”

Kenna smiled. “Sure. Are you here to talk to Lisa, too?”

“No. I really just wanted to take a look around the kitchen and maybe talk to you on your break. Wait. Did you mean, too, like in addition to speaking with you? Would I also like to talk with Lisa?” I rehashed the word jumble. Yeah, that was right.

“What?” Kenna’s pirate costume was marked with condiments and sweat. Her brow wrinkled in confusion.

Hungry people complained behind me. “Hurry up, lady. Move your arse. Pick something already.”

I craned my neck for a look behind her. No Lisa. “Did you mean to ask if I’m here to talk with Lisa, too, as in someone else is already here to talk with her?”

“Yes. That one.”

“Excuse me.” I dragged my basket through the swinging gate for employees only. Panic squeezed my chest. What if Lisa was in danger? What if the killer had her cornered out back? I couldn’t handle two corpses in one afternoon. “Where are they?”

“Out back.”

I made the sign of the cross and liberated my phone. I tapped 9-1-1 into the screen and hovered a thumb over the Send button as I opened the back door with a flourish.

The door banged against the side of the building.

Lisa squeaked and pressed a hand to her forehead.

Jake wrapped long fingers over his holstered gun. His smarmy stare sent fire through my veins.

I waved at Lisa before turning on Jake. “How’d you get here before me? You should be at Agatha’s with the ME.” Or waiting in any one of the hundred lines I was stuck in.

He extended a hand to Lisa, fully unaffected by my presence. “Thank you for your time. If I need anything else, I’ll be in touch.”

She zombied away, lighting a cigarette in a daze.

“How are you here?” I repeated.

He tapped the badge on his belt.

I let my head fall back. “Of course. You don’t have to obey speed limits or wait in pesky lines like the rest of the world. You have a little badge and you just park in the no-parking zone and blow past everyone who obeys the rules. Is that it?”

“Pretty much. I used the maintenance entrance too. No line.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Well, what’d Lisa say?”

He raised his brows and ran a thumb over his bottom lip. “I’d tell you, but it’s none of your business. Why’d you come barging out here like an animal?”

“Kenna said someone was questioning Lisa and it worried me. It reminded me of the vendors complaining earlier about two guys asking the same questions as me.”

“What two guys?”

“I don’t know. No one knew them.”

“What’d they look like?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this right away?”

I crossed my arms. “Why didn’t you tell me who you thought was following us on our way to Horseshoe Falls? I saw you looking in your rearview fifty-seven times. Don’t even try to lie.”

“I called it in. My guys traced the plate to a rental car, paid for with cash by someone with a bogus ID.”

“You think it was one of Bennie’s goons?”

He stared. Apparently, I’d gotten as much from him as he was volunteering.

I went back inside and cornered the cook, a beady-eyed kid covered in grease and freckles. The grill in front of him was neatly lined with meat and veggies. “Were you here the day John Francis died?”

The kid dropped his spatula on the floor. “Yes, ma’am.” He was my height and roughly three feet wide.

Ma’am?
Did I look old enough for that title? “I’m twenty-nine.” The words were more for my benefit than his.

“Mrs.?” His hopeful expression made it worse. Although not as bad as his red bandana and black leggings.

“No!”

Jake’s chuckle curled fingers at my sides. Of course, he’d followed me in to gloat.

Kenna arrived in the kitchen with a notepad and arranged cups under the smoothie machine. “I’ll help with drink orders, okay?”

Freckles nodded and grabbed a new spatula.

I watched Kenna. “Who usually makes the smoothies?”

“Anyone can. I’m pretty fast and I’ve memorized the recipes for everything on the menu, so I come back when I can and play catch-up.”

“Are there recipes you don’t list on the menu?”

“Sure. People make all sorts of requests, but not usually.” She scooped berries into a cup with vanilla yogurt and pressed a button on the machine.

I turned to Jake. “We know John was poisoned. I heard someone tell you it was belladonna. Was the poison in the smoothie?”

“Seems that way.”

I bit back a curse and grabbed Kenna’s hand before she pressed the button on smoothie number two.

“Are you kidding me?” I growled at Jake. “Would it have killed you to say so without me asking?” I made a show of looking at my watch. “
Oh
,
by the way
,
the belladonna wasn’t found in your wassail or hand cream.
Three seconds of dialogue. Three seconds. Was that too much to ask?” I turned my twitching eye on Kenna. “You were here Wednesday night. Who else made smoothies that night?”

“Me, Lisa and Moose.”

“Who’s Moose?”

Freckles looked over his shoulder. “Me.”

Kenna snapped lids on the smoothies. “Moose is training. Wednesdays are a little slower, so we practiced smoothies during the lulls.”

She zipped back to the front with her drinks.

I slid into the space beside the trainee for a better look.

Moose slid a load of meat into a pita pocket and blanched. “Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe. Did you kill anyone?”

His mouth flopped open.

I swung my basket onto the counter beside him. “Were you paid or asked to do anything hinky on Wednesday night?”

“Kinky?” His voice squeaked.

“Hinky. Weird. Unusual.”

“I have to wear this pirate costume and call ladies wenches. Does that count?”

“No.”

Jake tapped my elbow. “I think you’re done here. Let’s get out of this nice boy’s way.”

I scanned the area, desperate for another line of questions before I was physically removed, but my mental well had dried up, and frustration was replacing my other emotions fast.

Moose loaded the grill with fresh chicken and kicked his forgotten spatula in the process. “Shoot.” He looked around in a panic.

I ducked down and scooped it up. “I’ve got it.” I tossed it into the sink. Excitement bit my spine and I dropped back onto the floor. “Jake, I have an idea.”

He groaned. “Don’t make me arrest you again.”

“Kenna?” I projected my voice over the drone of impatient customers. “Who cleaned Wednesday night?”

“Me and Moose.”

“Excellent. Did you do the floors?”

“Sure.”

I turned to Jake. “Can we move the grill and cabinets, maybe the refrigerators?”

He eyeballed the appliances. “These are industrial-size appliances. I’d need half my team and a forklift to budge these.”

I jumped to my feet and dusted my palms. “How about me and one Moose?”

Jake huffed. “I know what you’re thinking, but Lisa said they clean the place top to bottom twice a day, open and close. There’s no way evidence has withstood two days and four cleanings here.”

I unlocked the wheels on the mobile cabinets where smoothie supplies were stored. “Maybe, but this isn’t the Ritz Carlton. It’s a temporary sandwich shop at an outdoor Craft Faire and the workers probably don’t even clean their bedrooms. No offense.”

Moose scraped the grill and shrugged. “I do sometimes, if Mom reminds me.”

“Help.” I motioned to Jake. “We can start with this, it’s the smallest. We only need to move the refrigerators as a last resort.”

Jake stepped forward. “What do you think we’re going to find under there?”

“Everything. Be prepared.” When I’d changed apartments, I was horrified and embarrassed by the amount of crap under my stove and fridge. I mentally gagged, recalling the shriveled food scraps and possible tooth I’d found under there. No one I knew had lost a tooth, so there was a previous tenant story I never wanted to hear.

Jake leaned his palms against the counter, and I put my weight into it. The piece rolled forward with an ominous creak and groan.

Moose swore. “That’s hella gross.”

“Like I said.” I pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and fingered through the dirt and leaves, probably blown in through the back door. Dried food adhered to the floor on months of old grease. Dried crumbs and blackened fries circled one misshapen berry. I lifted it overhead. “Bingo.”

“Well, look at that.” Jake said.

Moose tipped forward at the waist, bracing dimpled hands on bent knees for a closer look. “Blueberry?”

Jake whipped his phone to his ear. “For the business’s sake, let’s hope it’s not belladonna.”

I did a mental fist pump. “For
my
business’s sake, let’s hope it is.”

Chapter Sixteen

Thirty minutes later, Surly Wench swarmed with activity and I’d made calls to Grandma’s attorneys, Petal at Earth Hugger and Nate with my good news. Dan arrived along with others in navy jackets and undeniable authority. I slipped past Dan questioning Lisa at the front door. He gave me a formal nod, and I curtsied.

Fairgrounds security corralled a growing crowd of onlookers snapping photographs with their phones. Ugh. I pulled my cape up to my eyes. I didn’t need my face included in their crime scene collection. Grandma would kill me with her bare hands.

I picked up the pace and skirted along the storefronts toward Guinevere’s Golden Beauty. I was officially late but with excellent reason.

“Mia.” Jake’s voice echoed in the crisp fall air behind me. He caught up before I had time to turn and seek him. “Hey. Good work back there.”

“Thanks.” I pinched my lips to keep from babbling. Compliments weren’t Jake’s thing and they were certainly never sent in my direction. “This is my stop.”

“Right.” He nodded absently at my family’s booth, scanning the area and avoiding eye contact.

Bree leaned her elbows on the counter and dropped her chin into waiting palms.

I spun my back to her and straightened to my full height of five-four. “Hey, I was wondering...”

“No more investigating. You did a good job finding that berry. Your family’s company is off the hook, now it’s time to let me handle this.”

We were off the hook for murder, but I still had a PR firestorm going, six weeks before Christmas. “Fine, but that’s not what I was going to...Listen...” Nerves coiled in my tummy. Why was I sixteen in zit cream and braces with him? I shook it up.
Woman
,
up
,
Connors
. “Tonight’s the big finale of Pioneer Days at Horseshoe Falls. Everyone will be out enjoying the weather and the games and there are usually fireworks.”

He tilted his head slightly, as if he was trying to pick up a signal. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. The fireworks are pretty good, if you can take the cold. It’ll be chilly by then. So, I wondered, maybe, if you aren’t busy...” I motioned in the direction we’d come. “I mean, obviously you’re busy, but if you have some time or get hungry later, I could buy you a lemonade and a kabob. You know, as an apology for making you so crazy all the time.”

He narrowed his eyes and turned his lips down.

My heart sputtered frantically. It was stupid. I was stupid. The creeping sensation in my hair was probably the IQ points leaking from my brain. “Never mind.”

“I could eat later.” The expression on his face was fatal. He’d told me once it was his thinking face, but from where I stood, it looked like he wanted to smash something.

I probably didn’t want to know what he was thinking. “Okay. Good.”

“When?”

“I’ll be home at seven. Bree’s staying here until nine for me so I can be at Horseshoe Falls for the finale.”
Stop talking!
He didn’t ask why.
He asked when
. “I’ll have to change. I’m out of clean pioneer costumes, so I’ll have to wear jeans.”
Shut up!
He doesn’t care
. “You probably don’t mind that. Costumes aren’t your thing anyway.” I pressed cold fingers to my lips.

“I’ll be there at seven. I’m wearing jeans. I don’t mind costumes. On you.”

“You hated the Mary Poppins.”

“That wasn’t Mary Poppins.”

It had most definitely been a Mary Poppins and, honestly, one of my better impromptu ensembles. I’d worn it to Comic Con not long after we’d met. The stilettos and fishnets probably didn’t fit the traditional Poppins image, but short skirt and corset aside, it had been a kickass Poppins. Kind of brilliant, actually. “There was a steampunk twist.”

“You were barely dressed.”

My mouth fell open.

Bree bounded between us. “Time for work.” She gripped my shoulders and steered me away. “She’ll see you at seven.”

Jake turned on his heels and waved. “See you later.”

We made it to the gypsy wagons and leaned against the backside together. Tom smiled when he saw us.

Bree’s wide brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “That was fantastic.” She scribbled something on a little notepad and worried her bottom lip. “He’s not what he seems at all. Is he?”

“I’m not sure.”

Tom rocked on his heels. “I saw the whole thing. Nice work. You got yourself a date.”

“It’s not a date. It’s meat on a stick and some lemonade.”

Bree sighed. “Finally, my baby sister has a date.”

I trailed Jake’s silhouette in the distance. Did he think I’d asked him on a date? Surely not. I never said
date
.

If he did think that, what did it mean that he’d said yes?

* * *

I dressed in my softest jeans and long sleeve shirt, then pulled a fandom T-shirt over top. My hair was down, and I had mascara on. Date or no date? The struggle was real.

Never mind. I didn’t want to know.

I slid a lip gloss wand around my lips, just in case.

The doorbell rang, and I made a dive for the foyer. Finally, time to get on with it. Whatever would happen was better than the number of insane things I’d concocted in my mind. Nip it in the bud. Jump in. Get going. All great philosophies.

I hustled to the door and swept it open. “Hi.”

Jake looked like I’d slapped him. “You’re ready? I thought you’d need more time to change.”

“Bree covered me so I could leave a little early. There wasn’t much business, so they didn’t need me.”

“It was nice of your sister to cover for you anyway.”

“You’d think so, but it means I owe her, and that’s never good.”

He stuffed his fingers into the pockets of low-slung dark jeans. His brown leather coat hung open, revealing a navy T-shirt beneath. Maybe I was projecting, but Mr. Cocky Pants looked a little nervous.

My tummy twisted stupidly. “Let me grab my boots. It’s cold, right? I’ll get a coat, too.” I stuffed my feet into brown riding boots and headed for the coat closet. Taking a cue from Jake, I grabbed my cropped leather jacket, threaded both arms into the sleeves and freed my hair from the collar.

Jake read my shirt and smiled. “‘Winter is coming.’ Hey, I get that reference.”

I controlled the shock on my face as much as possible. “And I get
that
reference. You read
Game of Thrones
? Wait. You’re a Marvel fan?”

“I’m a Captain America fan. Who isn’t? He’s Captain America.”

“Solid argument.” I zipped the coat and stuffed everything I needed into my pockets—cell phone, keys, money, ID. “I should’ve guessed as much, coming from a military family where everyone serves in law enforcement afterward. Love for the Cap is probably in your genetic makeup. He’s the personification of your hero complex.”

“I don’t have a hero complex.”

“Of course.” I locked my door and pushed the elevator button, then pretended to collapse.

“Mia!” His arms were around me before my knees fully bent. He straightened me and looked me over.

I smiled. “Like I said.”
Point
,
Mia.

He frowned. “That was ridiculous on your part and common courtesy on mine. What would anyone else have done? Let you fall on the ground?”

“I’m just saying.”

The doors parted, and he motioned me on board first.

Thanks to the over-polished interior walls, Jake was everywhere. “Did you find anything more on the car that followed you here?”

“Security footage at the car rental company caught the men who used the fake ID. Dan’s looking into them. We think they came down from Jersey.”

“If they’re associates of Bennie and came here to kill John, they wouldn’t still be in town, right? Maybe they got wind of his death and whereabouts and came to confirm for themselves?”

“We don’t know, and we haven’t found them. They returned the car before we got there.”

I chewed a nail until we reached the ground floor.

“How about your PR thing. Did you get anything straightened out when you got home today?”

“Not really. I sent the good news out to consumers in a press release. Our products don’t kill. Only time and sales will tell if consumers are over the accusations they heard. I really wish Petal would call me back. It’s been days and she’s completely AWOL. Not a good sign.”

“Petal?”

“Never mind. I’m sure it’s fine.” I hoped.

Outside, the night was alive with community spirit. Horseshoe Falls residents filled the streets dressed in period costumes. They laughed and chatted, enjoying the night. Horseshoes and cornhole games were played on lawns lit by lanterns hanging on shepherds’ hooks. A line of men waged a tug-of-war battle over blue tarps doused in mud.

Joy percolated in my chest. “I love these events.”

“You don’t mind all the people?”

“No. I love the people, especially from afar. People-watching is one of my favorites. The interacting is where I muck up.”

“You do better than you think.”

We moseyed past a line of street vendors hired for the weekend. I could get vinegar fries and kettle corn at the county fair, but only one weekend a year could I get goodies made over an open fire by local residents. The thick tang of barbecue sauce and campfires filled the air. “We have to get Bernie’s kabobs off the fire. I don’t know where the recipe came from, but it’s heaven on a stick.”

“Bernie’s cooking tonight?”

“Every year. She wins the Campfire Award for her excellent food. She makes chicken, shrimp and steak kabobs that melt in your mouth.” My tummy growled on cue.

“Deal.” Jake sauntered beside me, matching his pace to mine and looking like the hero of a rodeo movie. Everything about his stride and disposition screamed
cowboy
. The marshal badge didn’t hurt.

“Do you ever take off the star?”

“Nope. The job never ends.”

“I’m not sure if that’s sad or just really cool.” I led him to Bernie’s campfire. “We’d like to try all three, please.”

“Mia!” She hopped to her feet and pressed me against her chest. “No costume?” Her bottom lip rolled out. Her bonnet and apron were adorable.

“Not tonight. I wasn’t feeling the Hester Prynne and butter’s rough on satin.”

“Don’t I know it. I nearly broke my bonnet in that slip-and-slide fiasco.” She loaded kabobs onto a paper boat and squirted her secret sauce into the corner. “Nice to see you again, Jake. Hope you’re planning to make this a habit.”

We traded food for cash, and I handed Jake a basket.

He pushed a money clip back into his pocket and frowned. “I was going to pay.”

“I invited you. It’s my treat.”

He turned his phone over in one palm and balanced the kabobs in the other. “Looks like the medical examiner confirmed that berry as belladonna.”

I nibbled on a piece of charred chicken and headed away from Bernie before we ended up on her blog again. “Excellent. Now there’s no way anyone can point a finger at Guinevere’s Golden Beauty for this. Even if Mindy Kinley tried placing doubt on whether or not the belladonna could’ve actually been in the wassail before, now we have the poison at the place he bought his smoothie. I’ll send another round of letters and draft a new press release in the morning, if that’s okay. It’s not a marshal secret about the berry’s whereabouts. Right?”

“No. Go ahead. It’s thanks to you I’m a step closer to finding John’s killer.”

I didn’t bother hiding the smile parting my lips. I bumped gently against his arm.

The night was beautiful. Storefronts were lined in white twinkle lights, and a full moon hung brightly overhead, surrounded by stars and a nice view of Venus. Somewhere in the distance a harmonica lamented and a banjo agreed. Horseshoe Falls loved Pioneer Days like I loved Comic Con.

Jake turned for the Sweet Retreat where Steve Kubicka manned a lemonade stand on the sidewalk. “Drinks are on me.” He paid Steve and handed me a tall white cup. Pretty pink paper with images of ice cream treats covered the window where his butter sculpture had been.

I tapped a nail against the window. “I’m sorry about the butter horse. It was really good.”

Steve rubbed his hands into a cloth and sighed. “Thanks. I’m just sorry for the way it ended. There were a lot of injuries that day. Butter’s dangerous. Not just to your cholesterol.”

Jake chewed on a kabob. “Amen.”

Tennille King, my new friend, zipped across the street in our direction, towing a man the size of Jake’s truck. “There you are.” Her smile widened until a dimple caved in. “Mia, this is my husband, Ty. Ty, Mia and her...Jake.”

Ty extended a hand to Jake and then me. “Nice to meet you.”

Tennille dug a manila envelope from her bag. “These are yours. I’d planned to email them, but my laptop didn’t do them justice. You want print copies. Trust me.”

Someone called her name.

“Oh. Okay. Hey. We’re going to go. Call me, Mia.”

A smile spread over my face. I hadn’t gone through with contacting her for a casual get-together yet, but the idea of having a girlfriend sounded amazing. There were some things Nate just never needed to hear.

Ty waved overhead as he followed her into the crowd. “Enjoy your date.”

Jake went rigid at my side. “Should we sit somewhere?”

Before I fell over dead from nerves? “Yes, please.”

We settled onto a bench near the waterfall and watched a group of men and women in brightly colored outfits clap and spin. They’d turned the empty clubhouse parking lot into the perfect place for a square dance.

I slid a shrimp off my stick. “Fireworks will start soon.” A bonus of fall fireworks, no need to wait until ten for nightfall.

Jake inched closer. “What’s in the envelope?”

“Pictures from the other day.” I opened the flap and slid them into my hand. My face heated. I stuffed them back into the envelope and grabbed my drink.

“Wait a minute.” He rocked me sideways and snagged the envelope from where I’d hidden it under my thigh. A long whistle crept from his lips. “Damn.”

“I didn’t know she was making dirty pictures until the last one.” I peeked at the photos as he flipped through them. Slowly.

The shot where she’d asked me to feign shock looked like Jake was pinching my bottom. The pose where she’d asked me to pray looked like I was giving him a reason to. When I’d propped my leg onto the bench and peeled back my skirt, I looked like a pinup girl. Bree would have loved it. My hoisted leg didn’t look bad in the black-and-white filter Tennille had added. She’d colorized the blue waterfall behind us and Jake’s eyes, which were hooded and intently focused on my thigh. The lilt of his mouth and jut of his chin made him look sexier than anything I’d ever seen and, based on that photo, my thigh had caused all that.