A Geek Girl's Guide to Arsenic (3 page)

Jake’s expression softened. “So you are human. You’ve made me wonder a few times.”

“Shut up.”

He parted his lips in the lazy half-smile I loved. “Can you tell me anything else about the moments before John Francis collapsed?”

“I don’t think so. He was fine. Then he wasn’t.”

Jake lifted the plastic bag with John’s cell phone. “His phone has a reminder set for three. An appointment with Surly Wench. Does that mean anything to you?”

I pointed across the dusty path to a line of eateries. “Surly Wench is a pub. Oh! Huzzah!”

“Huzzah!” A chorus rang up in echo.

Jake startled. “What the hell?”

Nate laughed. “It’s a rennie thing. A custom.”

“Rennie?”

I hiked my heavy skirts up and dashed the short distance to the trash bin. “Rennies are people who regularly attend the Faires or work here. Look.” I hovered a finger over the trash. The setting sun threw shadows across the bin’s contents. “John threw a cup away after he got to my booth. I wonder if he got it at Surly Wench?” The cup inside the receptacle seemed larger. Nondescript.

Jake poked the cup-in-question with his pen and snapped on a pair of plastic gloves. “I need those bags.” His voice shot through the hoopla.

The ME dashed to meet us, professing apologies. “Sorry. Dan had some questions.” He shivered. “This place is my living nightmare. Like being stuck in a circus after hours.”

Jake bagged the cup and handed it to the ME.

Twinkle lights snapped on across the out-of-season fairgrounds turned temporary Renaissance village, illuminating booths and pathways around the field.

The ME looked at me. “Sorry about what I said.” He motioned to my Queen Guinevere costume.

I nodded in full acceptance. “Whatever. It’s my circus. They’re my monkeys.”

Dan moseyed back across the lawn to meet us, with a mischievous smile. “You two crazy kids get caught up?”

Jake dragged his gaze from my face to Dan’s. “The vic was poisoned. He drank from this cup before talking with Mia.”

Dan scratched in his notebook.

Jake nodded toward my booth. “Then Mia gave him something else to drink and he sampled her family’s hand cream.”

“Yeesh.” Dan made another note. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a reminder in his phone for three o’clock. Doesn’t say with who, but looks like they met at one of the pubs over there. Surly Wench.”

Dan cocked an eyebrow. “I know who he met.”

“You do?” I jumped to his side. “Who?’

He smiled. “Funny seeing you again like this. You don’t believe in coincidence, but here you are. So what do you call this?”

“Unfortunate.”

He winked. “Maybe.”

We followed Dan to the coroner’s van parked inside the replica castle gates. Nate kept one hand on the small of my back, reminding me he was still there. Jake kept his distance. Energy zipped and whirled through the air around us like The Flash trying to counteract a tornado. I couldn’t pinpoint the cause, but then again, I’d never claimed to understand people. Especially not any in possession of a Y-chromosome.

The crowd near the gates had thinned to a handful of curious Faire workers and a couple dozen stragglers. A pair of uniformed officers restrained a screaming woman near the coroner van. Her mix of love professions and Victorian swears stopped me short.

The officers handed the woman off to Dan and hurried away.

Dan addressed the woman. “We have a few more questions.”

She smoothed her skirts and wiped her mascara-stained eyes before folding freckled arms across her middle. Her wool cape blew behind her in the nipping wind. “No.”

“No?” Jake barked.

Her lip trembled. “No.”

I stepped forward on instinct, a layer of padding between her and the Archer brothers. “Here.” I handed her my handkerchief and tugged the cape around her shoulders.

She clutched the material to her chest and buried her head in the crook of my neck.

I startled.

She bawled.

Dan cleared his throat. “Your name is Melanie Warner. Correct?”

She took a step away from me and rubbed her face. “Sorry. Yes. I’m Melanie.” Natural strawberry-blond curls adhered to her cheeks and neck, wet with tears and anguish.

“You knew the deceased?” he continued.

Her brows furrowed, and swears from every era burst from her mouth.

Dan squirmed. “Hey. It’s okay.” He lifted a steady hand in her direction.

She nearly broke it off. “Don’t touch me!”

He snatched his hand away. “I wasn’t.”

Jake raised his palms. “Ma’am, we need you to answer these questions. It’s not an option. You can talk to us here or we can take you downtown, let you catch your breath and you can answer when you’re ready. The choice is yours.”

She turned to face the coroner’s van and started swearing again.

Dan reached for his handcuffs. He wasn’t a time waster, and he was all business, like his brother. Handsome, too, but that was standard in Archer DNA.

Jake glared at me and pointed at Melanie. “A little help.”

“Fine.” I leaned into her line of sight. “Hi. Hey. You’re clearly angry with John. It’s obvious you knew him. Did something happen between you?”

Melanie gripped the red cape tightly to her middle. Her freckled cheeks puffed with rage. “Yeah, something happened. The no-good scoundrel knocked me up and dumped me! I hate him!” She flung herself at the loaded gurney and hugged the bag’s end. Swears turned to sobs. “I need you, Johnny! You no-good, cheating jerk!”

Well, that explained a lot.

Chapter Three

Jake and Dan spoke privately with Melanie as the fairgrounds emptied, leaving Nate and me to stew.

I motioned to the officers stationed at the gates. “What did you find out from them?”

Nate dipped his head and lowered his voice. “They wanted to know who I was. If I’d ever been here before. Which shops I’d visited. If I noticed anything unusual while I was here. They took my name and contact information and said the Craft Faire would send me replacement tickets for another day.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Basically, everyone is a suspect and they want to know how to reach us.”

I fingered the soft velvet material of my sleeve. Unfortunately,
everyone
wasn’t the last person seen with him, or the one who offered him a drink and hand cream right before he died. That was me.

The officers released the final handful of shoppers and pulled the gates shut. Only workers remained.

I scanned the area for answers. For an indication I was dreaming.

Nate lowered his voice. “I climbed the fence twice today unnoticed. If I can, anyone can. I’m not exactly hard to spot.”

In other words, the cops wouldn’t find the killer by collecting names at the front gate. “I don’t know. The killer might’ve hidden in plain sight.”

“What do you think happened? Did you know anyone who didn’t like John? Did someone here have a beef with him? Competition? Girlfriend?”

“No. Of course not.”

“Poison requires a plan, Mia. Someone plotted this.”

I gnawed the tender skin along the side of one fingernail and winced.

“Can you think of anyone?”

I dropped my hand to my side to avoid permanent damage. “Jake said John met someone at Surly Wench. The appointment was saved in his phone’s reminders.”

“Well, then. What are we waiting for?”

I stole a look at the Archers, fully engrossed in their interrogation. “Okay. Let’s go.” My voice cracked with uncertainty as memories of our last investigation clawed at my chest.

We slipped along storefronts into shadows cast by swinging signage and flapping striped overhangs. A storm was coming. Warning winds whipped abandoned leaves into tiny hurricanes at my ankles. Suddenly, the place I loved seemed too much like the Night Circus.

Nate slowed several yards from my family booth. “Should we check in?”

I changed trajectory, caught in the sights of my too-vigilant father. “Okay. Yeah.”

Dad crossed the grass and met us halfway. “We’re packing up. Meet us at home. We’ve got some PR work to do after those news reports.”

“Sure. Nate will drive me to my car and I’ll come right over.”

Nate bobbed his head in silent agreement.

“Good.” Dad narrowed his eyes on us. “Where were you headed just now?”

“What?” I put my giant owl eyes to use in one of their most natural expressions:
Who
,
me?

Dad worked his jaw side to side. “Nate?”

“We’re going to Surly Wench.”

I puffed my cheeks.

“Mia!” Dad scolded. “You’ve got to stay as far away from this as possible. Your grandmother’s having a stroke over the bad publicity. She’s got three lawyers on the line and your mother’s calling the Action News station to threaten them with a libel suit. Bree and Tom are on damage control. You can’t be caught meddling.”

“I’m not.”

The Connors Clan approached with long faces, bundled to their foreheads in coats and scarves. Mom wrestled a jumble of bags in one hand. “Everyone ready?”

Dad moved to her side, unloading her burden. “I was just inviting Nate to join us at home.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Mom motioned us to fall in line. “You’re welcome anytime, Nate.”

Nate and I trudged back to the front gates under the power of my family’s influence. It was the way I did most things I’d rather not do. An ex-boyfriend had once suggested I be ashamed of the control my family had over me. He didn’t understand our unconventional team mentality. He saw the dynamic as a flaw. I saw him to the door.

Sure, we were different, opinionated and a little nutty, but we were family and we stuck together.

Dad kissed my cheek. “I’m going to bring the car around. I’ll see you at the house?”

“Yep.”

He glanced at Nate for confirmation, clearly not trusting me to stay out of this.

Nate smiled.

I waited until his silhouette disappeared into the muddy parking lot and grabbed Mom’s arm. “I’m going to say goodbye to Dan and let him know we’re available if he has any other questions.”

She shot me a distracted smile. “Good idea.”

Nate set his hand on her shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Connors. If you need anything...”

She patted his hand. “Thank you, Nathan. Stop by later if you can.”

I headed toward the Archers for appearance’s sake, careful to stay out of their line of sight, and made a hard left at Bard’s Bakery.

Nate matched my pace easily, falling into step at my side. “I think Jake saw us.”

I hitched up my skirts and changed my walk into a jog. “Then we’d better hurry.”

Twinkle lights and stars led the way with a little help from knights carrying torches outside various shopfronts.

I peeked at Nate as we closed in on our destination.

He buzzed at my side. “What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know.” I stuttered to a stop. “Don’t they say killers hang around their crime scenes? Maybe we should make note of anyone who hasn’t left yet.”

“We haven’t left yet.”

I shook my well-chewed fingernail at him. “Excellent point. We should make this quick.”

Nate held the door for me.

The yeasty scent of fried everything slapped my face. Surly Wench deep-fried veggies, candy bars, even butter. Normally I craved the junk, but a new thought occurred to me. What if John had eaten here too? Maybe the poison hadn’t been in the cup Jake collected.

I hustled to the counter and dinged the service bell. “Hello?”

Pots and pans clattered in the back. “We’re closed.”

I leaned across the wooden counter. “It’s Mia Connors. Who’s there?”

Silence.

I straightened and tiptoed around the counter toward the kitchen. “Hello?”

Nate followed close on my heels.

Another earsplitting round of calamity shot from the kitchen with a peppering of curses.

I pushed the swinging doors wide and poked my head inside. “Everything okay back here?”

A young woman crouched on the floor, collecting fallen trays and pans. “We’re closed.”

I joined her. “Let me help.” I heaved fallen items off the floor and loaded them onto the counter. “I’m Mia Connors. I work at Guinevere’s Golden Beauty booth. This is my friend, Nate.”

Her gaze traveled the length of Nate’s body from feet to face. Her mouth fell open.

“Hi.” Nate dropped into a squat beside us. He extended a hand.

She quickly accepted. “Kenna.” A blush rose across her perfect olive skin.

Jeez. I hoisted the last tin and lid onto her counter. “Were you here when John Francis came in this afternoon?”

She turned dark brown eyes on me. “He’s the one who...died?”

Nate tilted his head like a six-foot puppy. “Yes. Do you remember if he was with anyone?”

She wrung the material of her apron around her fingers. “Melanie. They sat at a corner table, and she was pretty upset. They drew a lot of attention. I already told the police all this.” She worked her bottom lip with her teeth. Her fingers turned white under the pressure of her twisted apron.

I didn’t like the implication. “I’m sorry to ask you to repeat yourself. I know how frustrating that is. It’s just that John was a friend of mine, and I was with him when he got sick. The police suspect poison, and I can’t understand why someone would do this to him.”

Her gaze darted to the back door multiple times before stopping on Nate.

“Kenna?” His voice was so smooth I nearly didn’t recognize it. “What did John Francis order?”

She wet her lips. “Same thing every time. Kale, berry and hemp smoothie. Greens salad with balsamic.”

I curled my lip. Yuck. “He ordered that here?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I think Lisa only keeps that stuff on hand for him. No one comes for smoothies since Fruit Jester joined the Faire.”

The back door swung open and clattered shut.

Kenna jumped.

A willowy woman in her fifties dropped empty trash bins at her feet. “Kenna?”

“Uh. This is Mina and Nate.” She swallowed. “This is my boss, Lisa.”

I waved. “I’m Mia.” Not Mina.

Lisa glared at Kenna. “Employees only in the kitchen, Kenna. Remember?”

Nate smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Lisa. We were—”

“Leaving.” She pointed to the door.

“Leaving,” he repeated. He extended his hand to Kenna again. “If you want to get a cup of coffee sometime, let me know.”

Her head bobbed.

I led the way out. Safely back on the footpath, I swatted Nate. “Did you wink at her? And invite her to coffee?”

“So?”

“So?” I smiled. “That poor girl.”

“That poor girl has my card now. I slipped it into her hand when we shook goodbye. Smart, huh?”

“Oh, yes. Very smooth.”

“Thanks. I think Kenna has more to say, and Lisa wasn’t going to let her.”

I bumped into him playfully as we walked. “You think she’s pretty. Be careful, big boy. I bet she’s still in college. Or high school. If you guys go out, you should card her. Just in case.”

“Please. She’s over eighteen. Obviously. Besides, what do you think I’m going to do with her? I invited her for coffee, not a bank heist.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Lisa seemed angry.”

I laughed. “You’re like a subject-change Jedi. No transition necessary.”

“The Force is strong in me.”

“It is, and I agree about Lisa, but I can’t blame her. Grandma’s angry, too. Surly Wench and Guinevere’s Golden Beauty took major hits today.”

Nate followed me around a set of wooden stocks and through an employee exit in the fence behind the ticket booth. “I hate to say it, but your grandma’s right to panic. A tragedy this big could ruin a business. My mom still won’t buy aspirin.”

“I know.”

We walked in silence across the field, where my car was a tiny pink spec in the distance.

With media coverage, something like this could snowball in days and ruin the company Grandma spent decades creating.

Nate opened his passenger door for me. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“We need to find out what really happened to John.”

* * *

I parked on the street outside my parents’ three-bedroom ranch in the suburbs. Lights burned in every window. Voices rattled the glass.

I let myself in on an intake of breath, compiling a mental list of people to talk to at the Faire tomorrow.

“Finally!” Bree marched into the foyer, where I hung my cloak. “Where have you been? I thought you were following us? Where’s Nate?” She pushed past me to check the driveway.

“He went home.”

Her lips twisted in distaste. “He’s the only man on your horizon. You should keep him close.”

I forced a tight smile and headed for the kitchen. “I’m not doing this with you again tonight.”

The heavenly aroma of percolating coffee met me in the hallway and invited me back in time. Bright white cabinetry adorned the same country blue walls I’d helped paint in junior high. Matching gingham curtains dressed the windows, and knitted cozies shaped like farm animals covered Mom’s small appliances. My senior picture stuck to the refrigerator in a magnetic frame beside Bree’s wedding photo and a snapshot from Gwen’s first birthday.

Dad set a bottle of wine on the counter and cracked the top off a beer. “You hungry?”

Always. “Not really.”

Mom had unloaded the refrigerator and spread a buffet of leftovers and sandwich components and condiments on the island. “Make a plate.” She motioned to her spread. “Eat.”

I scooped pasta salad into a bowl. My tummy growled in excitement. “How’s Grandma?”

Dad swigged his beer. “Great. She’s in the living room.”

Her muffled voice ricocheted off the walls.

“Ah. What’s she doing?”

“Cursing.”

I smiled. “At who?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Either at her lawyer or the television. Hard to say. The eight o’clock news just started.”

I followed Grandma’s voice to the living room.

She pressed a phone to her ear. “They’re insinuating our product killed that man! What am I keeping you on retainer for?”

I turned back for a cup of coffee. “Lawyer.”

Mom made the sign of the cross and poured a glass of wine. “I’m going to check on Gwen. She was fussing when we got home, and Bree put her down in the den.”

Tom rounded the corner, palms up. “No need. She’s fast asleep. What can I say? I’m Houdini Dad. Some might call me The Baby Whisperer.” He wound long arms around Bree and kissed her head.

Bree turned to kiss his lips. “Thank you for getting her to sleep. We make perfect babies.”

Gag.

Dad nudged me into the dining room, shooing me like an unwanted cat on the front porch.

I hustled ahead of his flapping hands. “What?”

“So?” He pulled the etched glass doors closed behind us.

I used my big eyes again. “What? I don’t know what you mean.”

His expression turned droll. “What did Dan and Jake have to say? Your mother said you stayed behind to talk to them.”

“Well, they said they’re looking into it.”

Dad raised his thick graying eyebrows like antenna.

The air between us charged with his retired-cop senses.

The doorbell rang, and I squeaked.

A stampede of footfalls headed toward the front door. Dad shot me a look. “I’ll talk to you in a minute. I have to make sure that’s not a reporter. Who knows what your grandmother would do to them.”

I gave Dad a thumbs-up and went back to the kitchen.

I grabbed a coffee mug and surveyed the empty bottle of wine. Mom’s glass was also empty.

I pulled a fresh bottle from the rack and jammed the corkscrew in the spongy top. If I didn’t have to drive home, I might have skipped the coffee, too. Regardless, Mom would need another glass tonight.