Laced with Poison (14 page)

*   *   *

EMMA finished out the afternoon, said good night to Arabella and walked around the
corner of the building to the stairs to her apartment. Tonight she would be more than
happy to have a quiet evening with a microwavable dinner and some time spent on her
laptop exploring shape wear for their upcoming trunk show at Marjorie Porter’s. She
trudged up the stairs and opened the door to the space Arabella had
given her above Sweet Nothings. Emma always felt a sense of peace as soon as she walked
through the door, and tonight was no different.

She kicked off her shoes, poured herself a glass of sweet tea and plopped down on
the sofa with her laptop. Emma clicked on the web site for a company known for its
lingerie and scrolled through the pages. She wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the
garments women used to remake their figures—she’d used a few of those tricks herself.
But the number of possibilities available was mind-boggling—from capris to full slips
to camis to bicycle shorts. It was possible to compress any part of the body—or the
entire body itself—into a size considerably smaller than normal. Emma was convinced
that Marjorie’s garden club would be keen to buy when they saw what these undergarments
could do.

She jotted down a list of the things she wanted to order and the company’s phone number.
She took a sip of her tea, nibbled the end of her pencil and looked at her list again.
Did she dare order so many things? Would they sell? She scratched a few items off
her list and crossed her fingers.

Emma closed her laptop and went out to the kitchen. She opened the freezer and stared
at the contents. She had a couple of frozen meals she kept for nights when she didn’t
feel like cooking. She sorted through them and decided on a Thai chicken dish that
was usually fairly decent.

While it was in the microwave, she thought about the events of the afternoon. It appeared
obvious now that someone went out to Deirdre’s garden, picked a foxglove flower and
slipped it onto one of Bitsy’s cupcakes. She would go to Detective Walker tomorrow
and let him know what she’d discovered. Perhaps the police had some way of recovering
any footprints that might have been left in the garden. She rather doubted it, but
at least Walker would know what to do.

She thought about Arabella’s and her conversation with Marjorie Porter. Apparently
this Lotte Fanning woman had it in for Jessica, too, for some reason. Unfortunately
neither Emma nor Arabella was acquainted with her. The microwave pinged, and Emma
removed her cardboard dinner and took it to the small table in the dining area of
the living room.

As she passed the small mirror on the wall by the bookcase, she noticed that her hair
was getting a little on the raggedy side. She’d cut it short just before returning
home to Paris, and during the summer heat, she was very glad to have it off her neck.
She’d thought about growing it back, but she liked it the way it was. Although at
the moment, it was in desperate need of some shaping. She’d call Angel Cuts in the
morning and make an appointment.

Emma started to sit down when a thought struck her. Almost everyone in Paris went
to Angel Cuts. Angel Roy offered the shopkeepers a discount, and her prices were very
reasonable. Most people preferred to go to someone local rather than one of the chains
out at the mall. All of which meant it was quite possible that Lotte Fanning was a
client. And if she was, then perhaps Angel would know why Marjorie Porter thought
that Lotte might have wanted Jessica Scott dead.

Emma grabbed her cell phone, entered a note to remind herself to make an appointment
at Angel Cuts in the morning, then went back to eating her microwaved chicken dish
with more gusto than before.

*   *   *

EMMA called Angel Cuts first thing and managed to get an appointment for noon that
same day. She crossed her fingers that she would come away with more than just a
haircut. Then she called Arabella to see if she could open Sweet Nothings. Emma was
bound and determined to have a chat with Detective Walker before the sun got any higher
in the sky.

Arabella was already up and dressed and more than happy to head to the shop immediately.
Emma dabbed on some lipstick and pulled a comb through her hair. Too bad she couldn’t
have gotten her haircut before going to see Walker. The thought brought her to a standstill.
She had no interest in Walker, so what difference did it make? She managed to convince
herself, as she walked toward the Bug, that it was just that she prided herself on
always trying to look her best. Walker had nothing to do with it.

Emma put the Bug in gear and headed toward Caldwell Street and the police department.
For a moment she wondered if she ought to have called first, and she crossed her fingers
that Walker would be in.

She kept them crossed as she approached the reception desk in the lobby of the brick
building that housed the Paris Police Department.

“I’d like to see Detective Walker, please.”

The harassed-looking older woman who greeted her jerked a thumb toward the front door.

“Walker’s gone into town to get a bite to eat.”

Darn! “Do you happen to know where?”

“The Coffee Klatch, where else?” she said as if that settled that. “Being a bachelor
he don’t like to cook for himself. Probably don’t know how anyways, so he starts every
day with a big old farmer’s breakfast.”

Emma thought about what that would do to her waistline, although it obviously hadn’t
hurt Walker’s. He was as trim as an athlete.

“Course he always works straight through lunch, nibbling
on one of them granola bars.” She shook her finger at Emma. “I told him more than
once he needs to get himself a wife. Then he’d be going home to a hot meal and not
one of them microwavable dinners.”

The woman began to eye Emma appraisingly. Was she considering her as a possible candidate
for the unmarried Detective Walker? Emma decided not to find out, but quickly said
good-bye and headed back to her car.

She hated barging in on Detective Walker’s morning meal, but she didn’t want to wait
until later in the day when the store would get busy and she might not be able to
get away.

She left the Bug in the parking lot behind Sweet Nothings and walked down to the Coffee
Klatch. It wasn’t crowded, and Emma quickly picked out Walker sitting by himself at
a table near the kitchen.

As soon as the hostess saw Emma, she grabbed a menu and headed her way.

“Thanks.” Emma waved her away. “I’m meeting someone.” She pointed in Walker’s direction.

The hostess brandished the menu at Emma, but Emma shook her head and strode resolutely
toward Walker’s table.

He looked up, startled, when she came abreast of him. He put down his fork and immediately
jumped to his feet.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt you.” Emma gripped the edge of the vacant chair tightly.

“I can’t sit while a pretty lady stands. I’m too much of a Southerner for that.”

Emma smiled. “Well then I guess I’ll have to sit.”

“I guess you will.” Walker sank into his seat as Emma pulled out the empty chair.

“Please don’t let me interrupt your breakfast.” Emma
indicated Walker’s half-full plate of scrambled eggs, ham and buttered grits.

Walker gave a slow smile that deepened the dimple in his right cheek. “Now you know
that no true-blue Southern gentleman is going to lift his fork while a pretty lady
is sitting opposite him still waiting for her food.”

His smile was contagious, and Emma found herself grinning back. “Well, this Southern
lady has already had breakfast, so how do we handle that?” She leaned over the table
slightly toward Walker.

Walker furrowed his brow in mock seriousness. “Now that is something of a puzzle.”

“How about if I order a cup of tea? Will that do?”

“Brilliant idea, ma’am.” Walker grinned and gestured toward the waitress.

Mabel headed toward their table with the purposefulness of an ocean liner heading
out to sea. She gave Emma a strange look when she saw her. Of course Mabel was used
to seeing Emma coming in with Brian. Suddenly Emma wondered what everyone else might
be thinking? She gave a quick look around, but there was no one she knew. She relaxed
slightly and ordered a cup of green tea.

“Green tea?” Walker said as soon as Mabel headed toward the kitchen.

“It’s not unlike regular tea,” Emma explained. “But green tea undergoes minimal processing
and isn’t fermented like black tea. It’s supposed to be full of antioxidants.”

“I take it that’s a good thing.”

“A very good thing,” Emma agreed.

Mabel slid a cup in front of Emma, and the liquid sloshed over the side onto the saucer.
Emma lifted it to her lips and was relieved to see Walker pick up his fork.

“While I wish you’d come here just to see me, I’m going to guess that’s not the case.”
Walker looked at Emma inquiringly.

She put her cup down a bit too abruptly, and it clanked against the saucer.

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“I’d even venture to guess that it’s about the case I’m working on. The death of that
young lady, Jessica Scott.” Walker swiped his napkin across his lips.

“Yes.” Emma began shredding the paper napkin in her lap. “I thought you ought to know
that my friends and I discovered foxglove growing in Deirdre Porter’s garden. And
the cleaning lady said that after the party, she found muddy footprints leading from
the garden right to the kitchen table. I mean, we did hear it was foxglove that was
the cause of death.” Emma fiddled with the remnants of her napkin.

“Did she now. That’s very interesting.” Walker forked up the last of his hash browns.
“We’ll definitely look into that.”

Emma was relieved that he hadn’t blown her off. Of course it might be that he was
just being polite, and he would forget about it the minute she turned around.

“Now that we have that out of the way…” Walker grinned at Emma across the table.

The conversation was taking a turn that suddenly made Emma nervous. “I’ve…I’ve got
to be going.” She reached for her purse.

Walker shot out of his seat as soon as Emma began to stand up.

“Will you…will you let me know what you find?”

Walker sketched a salute. “I certainly will. Anything that gives me another chance
to talk to you.”

Emma all but bolted from her seat. She turned around to
see Liz staring at her with a strange expression on her face. Before Emma could reach
her friend, Liz had blasted through the front door of the Coffee Klatch and was on
her way down the street.

*   *   *

THE look Emma had seen on Liz’s face worried her all afternoon. Several times she
tried calling her friend, but there was no answer either at the Bannings’ house or
on Liz’s cell. Emma couldn’t imagine what had come over Liz. Had she jumped to the
wrong conclusion when she saw Emma sitting with Walker?

Emma tried her one last time, but then it was time to leave Sweet Nothings for her
hair appointment. She was getting her purse when a symphony of blaring horns came
from outside on the street. Emma ran to the window in time to see Sylvia’s ancient
Cadillac turn left onto Washington Street from the right lane. The horns reached a
crescendo and then tapered off as Sylvia sailed down the street, seemingly oblivious
to the red faces of the wildly gesturing drivers around her.

“Sylvia’s here,” Emma announced.

“I suspected that,” Arabella said dryly. “You might as well run along to Angel’s then.
I’ll keep my fingers crossed that you have some luck.”

“Thanks.” Emma paused in front of one of the mirrors and finger combed her hair, succeeding
only in making it look even messier. No matter. Angel would soon set it right.

The breeze had a hint of coolness to it that was barely noticeable, the warmth of
the sun easily counteracting it. Emma strolled down Washington Street, stopping to
wave to Willie behind the window of the Meat Mart. She glanced toward the Toggery,
Paris’s oldest remaining store, and
thought she saw Les in the window. She raised a hand in salute.

Emma was passing Let Us Cater to You, when the door opened and Lucy popped her teased,
white head out.

“Emma!” She gave Emma a big hug. “How are things down at Sweet Nothings?” The sun
glinted off the enormous cubic zirconia solitaire she wore on her left hand. She’d
bought it for herself to fool everyone into thinking that her latest husband, Harry,
was a wealthy man. She hoped it would forestall any questions about the prudence of
her making a fifth match.

“Fine. Just fine.” Emma returned the embrace.

“I saw the story in the
Post
this morning about that poor woman, Jessica Scott.” Lucy waved a hand and her ring
flashed in the sunlight.

A sense of dread settled over Emma like a cloud. Would this article have mentioned
Liz? She hoped not.

“What did it say?”

The phone rang inside Lucy’s shop, but she ignored it. “It said something about how
she died on account of eating some kind of poisonous flower on one of the cupcakes
that were served. Said they came from Sprinkles.” She shuddered. “Not sure I want
to eat any more of those. Although the devil’s food ones are to die for.”

“It won’t happen again,” Emma reassured her. What would happen to Bitsy’s business
if everyone felt that way? “It’s beginning to look as if someone swapped out the edible
flower for the poisonous one.”

“Oh my heavens.” Lucy put a hand over her mouth. “As in…”

Emma nodded. “Yes. Murder.”

“What are things coming to?” Lucy asked, looking skyward.

Emma gave Lucy another quick hug and hurried down the street toward Angel Cuts. She
wondered how the newspaper had gotten hold of the story about Jessica. She was surprised
they hadn’t run something earlier but suspected that the Porters had managed to squash
any reports. Marjorie probably didn’t want the world knowing that someone had been
murdered at her daughter-in-law’s party.