Murder on the First Day of Christmas (Chloe Carstairs Mysteries) (22 page)

    
Mom and I traded exasperated looks.

    
“I think that’ll just about get it.” Mom gave the room another once over. “A little cleanup, and we can go watch some TV.”

    
A short time later, I was watching Bunny Beaumont make her big entrance at Saul’s.

    
“We can start this party now!” Bunny crowed to the camera, throwing her fur to Gavin.

    
After finishing at Monica’s, we had returned to my loft, and I’d gone downstairs to the health food store to get us fruit, cheese and crackers to snack on for the big screening. Jimmy James, the storeowner, was a friend of mine - a cute twenty-three-year old who had opened Sprouts N Stuff with the settlement he’d received from a skiing accident a couple of years before. The accident had cost him a kidney and, to hear him tell it, any hope of finishing college.

    
Young as he was, I’d briefly considered dating him (you know me and those granola boys). But, alas, I had matured past the age where you date those who live with three other guys and stock their bathroom with fast food napkins instead of toilet paper. Somewhere along the line, brokerage accounts had become sexy.

    
So far the DVD hadn’t revealed much. I was keeping a list of everything Saul had eaten or drunk.

    
Mom was admiring her design work. “Those precious little calling birds. Just the right touch.”

    
In the foreground, Saul and Robin were chatting with the Browleys, Nancy’s eyes resting everywhere except on her host. Saul had a wine glass, and I made a note of it.

    
“Those darling Waterford maids,” Mom cooed. “So elegant.”

    
Using the remote, I skipped over parts that didn’t have at least one of our suspects on the screen. We watched as Angela circled the party, not really talking to anyone, and noted how Oscar’s angry scowl found Tony Trianos again and again.

    
“The geese really do look lovely, don’t they? Silk was a good choice.”

    
“Could you focus?” I chided. “This isn’t about you. We need to… Oooh, there I am in my Nanette Lepore. Check out that rack.”

    
Mom cleared her throat and pointed out that Saul was at the buffet. I noted the hors d’oeuvres he had heaped on his dish. Since he had served himself, though, there was little chance the food was tainted.

    
“Maybe Marco froze digitalis in the swan punch bowl, and it slowly dissolved during the party,” I ventured.

    
Mom shook her head. “The police tested the food and drinks. Besides, the killer couldn’t afford for everyone to ingest the digitalis. Someone else might have been killed.”

    
Still, somehow an overdose of the drug was in Saul’s system, and if it hadn’t been in something he ate or drank, how had it gotten there?

    
On screen, Oscar brought Saul another drink, the second time he had made that gesture. It was an opportunity, but what was the motive?

    
“Interesting.” I paused the disc. “I didn’t see that, did you?”

    
“I don’t think so, or it didn’t seem remarkable if I did.”

    
On screen, Robin spoke to Jack Lassiter, their heads bent together in a moment of shared intimacy. I hit play again, and we watched as Robin bent even closer, her lips almost grazing Jack’s ear. He looked enchanted, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

    
Robin seemed to put him off, but lightly. His disappointment, while obvious, was manageable.

    “Now, here’s where I would’ve done it,” Mom said as Saul went to make his phone call. “Go back a few frames.”

    
I held down a button on the remote until we could see Robin and Tony Trianos, their backs to the camera, talking with head’s close together. Over Robin’s bare brown shoulder, Angela was unlocking the door of the study to fix Saul’s nightly Scotch.

    
“Love a man in uniform,” Mom said happily, as the camera caught sight of the ten pipers piping.

    
Angela stepped out of the frame for a brief moment to get a glass and the decanter from the sideboard, before taking both to the desk and pouring a generous serving. She left the glass and decanter within easy reach of the phone and in plain sight of the camera.

    
“At the beginning of the party, the study door was unlocked for just under an hour,” Mom recalled. “Saul was in the foyer the whole time greeting guests as they arrived. When he joined the party, he locked up.”

    
I nodded. “So the discs had to be in the study, or there would have been no reason to lock up.” But even as I spoke, I realized something else. “At least, Saul thought they were in the study.”

    
“Right. Now, see there. Angela poured his drink, and the study is unlocked for a few minutes between the time she leaves and the time Saul goes in to make his call.” Mom narrated what we both could see, at least part of the door in every shot the videographer was getting.

    
“There.” I said. “Saul goes in and makes his call. Meagan’s obviously not there. He tosses back the Scotch and comes out, relocking the door.”

    
“We know that’s not when he was poisoned, because the glass and decanter where right where Saul had left them and there was no trace of digitalis in either. I was thinking that was a window of opportunity for someone to steal the discs.” She picked up a cracker. “And yet, no one went into the study, and the outer doors and windows were locked.”

    
“Looks bad for Angela. She had permission to go in there, and if she knew Saul wasn’t going to survive the night, he would never have missed the discs.”

    
“Angela’s the one person without a motive to steal the discs,” Mom argued. “They contained her research, and she could’ve copied them. Plus, she’s the one who called attention to their absence in the first place.”

    
“Which McGowan would say was done to throw us off track.” Something else occurred to me. “Now, I know Meagan said the police had cleared her…”

    
“Not that we’re taking her word,” Mom interrupted.

    
“I know, but isn’t it interesting that her father didn’t know she was in town?”

    
“Good point. He wouldn’t have called her if he had known she was having dinner right here in Birmingham.”

    
“There.” I paused the disc as Saul popped something in his mouth. “I’d forgotten that Saul snagged a lobster puff from Gavin Beaumont’s plate. Maybe Gavin was the intended victim, and that puff was poisoned.”

    
Mom shook her head. “I don’t think Gavin’s on digitalis.”

    
“Then maybe Gavin poisoned one puff to give to Saul.”

    
“Maybe, but did you see Gavin’s face?” Mom added a bite of cheese to the cracker. “He looked crestfallen that Saul took his last puff, and he couldn’t have known Saul would snatch it.”

    
Not wanting to let go of my theory, I hit the remote, and we watched the rest of the party play out in silence. Saul gave Mom the CD of Christmas music and playfully patted her behind, Robin offered Saul his medicine, and he painfully died. The videographer hadn’t even flinched in the face of Saul’s collapse as the camera had rolled.

    
“I can’t believe Meagan watched that,” Mom murmured.

    
“And she didn’t seem overly upset. Remember what she said? That it looked like a fun party.”

Some fun
.

CHAPTER 25

    
After we finished watching the DVD, I walked Mom to her car, assuring her the whole way that, yes, I would call McGowan. No, I wouldn’t let it sound like we were worried about Angela, thereby making her disappearance look like a flight from justice. Yes, I would call Mom the minute I learned anything, and, no, I wouldn’t antagonize the man. It was a lot to ask of one phone call, so I put it off as long as I could.

    
First, the mail. No checks. Then back to Sprouts N Stuff for dinner fixins. Roasted asparagus and blue cheese quesadillas, maybe. One look at Jimmy’s new skate boarder haircut and my fantasies came to a halt. Ah, well.

    
“Somebody left this for you.” Jimmy brushed his bangs from his eyes.

    
“Oooh.” I recognized the distinctive gold box - Godiva chocolates. Someone loved me. “Who? Where?” Chocolate has this effect on me.

    
Jimmy shrugged. “They were in with our mail, but your name’s on the card.”

    
Loft mailboxes are in our secured lobby. Commercial tenant boxes are out front. Friends had left stuff with Jimmy when they couldn’t get to my box before.

    
Showing remarkable restraint, I opened the card first.

    
Something special for someone special. J.

    
Ha. Not jealous, huh? Forgot that seeing other people could work both ways, didn’t you, my little Jacob? Unless…

    
Unless he had done something he shouldn’t have, and this was a half-pound of dark chocolate guilty conscience. No, no, mustn’t jump to conclusions. This was a sweet gesture, and I should take it as such.

    
I mean, Jacob only has a handful of emotions in his repertoire, and guilt isn’t one of them. But then, jealousy isn’t either. So what did that leave? Hunger? Arousal? Fear of commitment? Affection? That one worked. Affection. Yes, that was it. Sweet.

    
“That was exhausting,” Jimmy said.

    
“What was?” I was surprised to find him still there.

    
“Whatever was going on in your head. Sometimes chocolate is just chocolate.” He was looking at me strangely, so I paid for my asparagus and blue cheese wedge and headed upstairs.

    
Before I called Jacob, I decided to call McGowan and get that chore out of the way. Suddenly, talking to McGowan didn’t seem like such a pain. Nothing did.

    
Life was good. Jacob and I were good. Chocolate was good.

    
I decided to have a piece - just one. Then another one tomorrow. One a day. My kind of vitamin.

    
I picked out a gooey clustery looking thing. Don’t be coconut, I thought, as I fished McGowan’s card from my wallet.

    
Coconut.

    
I chewed the half I had bitten into, threw the other half away and tried again as I dialed.

    
Orange crème.

    
Disgust.

    
I would be dropping subtle hints about my love of truffles when Jacob and I were back on solid ground.

    
McGowan answered just as I found a caramelly nutty thing that smelled like almonds. I took a bite.

    
Jackpot.

    
“Are you at home?” McGowan asked after we exchanged greetings.

    
Savoring a decadent piece of ganache, I said I was.

    
“I’m in your neighborhood. Mind if I come up?”

    
I made a face. I had asparagus to roast. A phone call to Jacob to script. And I wasn’t about to share my chocolate. But Mom was expecting information, so I agreed.

    
“How’d you know this was my neighborhood?” I asked when I opened the door.

    
“Hello, to you, too. Are you going to invite me in?”

    
“How do I know you’re not a vampire?”

    
McGowan smiled. “Vampires can’t enter without being invited, right? Here.” He slipped past me without an invitation. Cheeky.

    
“I’ve always wanted to see inside these places.” He wandered around my loft, also without an invitation.

    
He touched things, picked up things and generally made himself a nuisance. I felt the beginnings of a headache.

    
“You didn’t answer my question.” I flopped on the settee, not because the light from the tall windows was most flattering there, but because I felt a little worn out by the day.

    
“I saw your address on the police reports.” He had known without prompting the question I meant. That was nice.

    
Come to think of it, the light flattered him, too, although blond hair on guys really doesn’t do it for me. Even when it’s paired with navy blue eyes, a nice tan and really cool Cole Haan slip-ons.

    
“So, you called me.” He took a seat on the green couch.

    
“I wondered what you thought of Saul’s will, and the fact that Robin was in it?”

    
“News travels fast.” He shrugged. “It was interesting, but I don’t think I found it nearly as interesting as Angela did. Sounds like she was furious.”

    
My stomach was tying itself into knots. “You sure have a one track mind.”

    
“Just going where the leads take me. I’d love to talk to Angela and clear up a few things.”

    
“You should. I bet she’ll be happy to sit down with someone who’s already convinced she’s a killer.”

    
McGowan ignored the sarcasm. “Trouble is, Angela’s disappeared.”

    
I managed a shaky laugh. “Disappeared? Hardly. Just because she’s not taking your calls, doesn’t mean she’s on the lam.”

    
“Is she taking your calls?”

    
“I haven’t called her.”

    
“Has your mother?”

    
“You would have to ask her, but I doubt Mom’s taking your calls either.” All this back-and-forth was making my head spin.

    
McGowan looked me over. “You don’t look so hot.”

    
The nerve! “You’re not hot either.”

    
“No, really, you’re sweating.”

    
“I ate too much chocolate.” I felt nauseated just thinking about candy. Nauseous and self-conscious. I sweat more than your average girl.

    
McGowan moved onto the settee and felt my forehead. “How much did you have?”

    
“One piece. Maybe two. Six. My boyfriend sent me Godivas.”

    
“Where’s the box?” He was in scary cop mode. Both of him.

    
“Kitchen.” My stomach rolled when he got off the settee.

    
It seemed like an hour before McGowan returned.

    
“There were only nineteen pieces in the box. There’s supposed to be thirty.”

    
“No math,” I moaned.

    
“You ate eleven pieces.”

    
What a pig. A big sweaty, nauseous pig. “I threw some away. The fruit. Coconut.”

    
“I called an ambulance.”

    
I was shocked. And scared. And sooooo dizzy. “I’m just sick to my stomach.” I tried to get up, but it wasn’t happening.

    
“The card was typed.”

    
“You read my card?”

    
“How did you get the chocolates?”

    
“Jacob left them in the mailbox of the store downstairs for me.”

    
McGowan made phone calls, and I watched the room spin.

    
I dimly remembered eating a PBJ for breakfast and wondered if I’d developed a peanut allergy. Then I wondered if I would blow up like a life raft after eating eleven Godiva chocolates in one sitting?

    
I heard sirens downstairs.

    
McGowan remained seated beside me on the couch. “I don’t think the box was from Jacob. I think you did what your mother always told you not to do. You accepted candy from strangers.”

    
I did something else my mother had told me not to. I antagonized the man by throwing up on his nice shoes.

CHAPTER 26

    
When I opened my eyes, McGowan had been replaced by Jacob, and we had jump cut from my loft to a hospital room. I had dim recollections of an ambulance ride and people yelling questions in my face.

    
“What are you doing here?” I croaked. My throat burned, and I had a terrible taste in my mouth.

    
“Just keeping you company till your parents get back.”

    
“My parents are here?”

    
“They’ve been here the whole time.”

    
“And you’ve been here?”

    
“The whole time.”

    
Tears welled up, but I blinked them away.

    
“How do you feel?” he asked.

    
“Death would have been easier.”

    
“I didn’t send you chocolate.”

    
“You should have.”

    
Jacob smiled at that. “I thought we decided against the Goth look for you.”

    
I tried to rub under my eyes, but gave up. Everything hurt. “Did I miss Christmas?”

    
“What? No. It’s Saturday. You were sick all last night, and now it’s morning.”

    
Crazy. It felt like weeks had passed.

    
“What happened to me?”

    
“They thought it was cyanide at first. Which would’ve been worse.”

    
I didn’t see how, but ok.

    
“But it turned out to be something called nitrobenzene that’s used in different kinds of polishes, insecticide. There was some in the stuff you and your mom use to clean ornaments.”

    
“And I had it on my hands?” Pigging out on chocolates and licking the fingers of my unwashed hands. Charming.

    
He shook his head. “Somebody tampered with the chocolate.”

    
Again with the tears, only this time it was harder to hold them back.

    
The realization that evil had found its way to my doorstep, had disguised itself as affection and played so cleverly on my emotions both stunned and frightened me. I wasn’t ready to face the idea that someone knew just how to get to me and had done so without hesitation.

    
Jacob took my hand and squeezed it hard, bringing me back from a dark place. I gladly turned my attention to him.

    
“Where are my parents?”

    
“They went downstairs for coffee.”

    
“You didn’t want coffee?”

    
“I’ll go when they return.”

    
I studied Jacob, looking for some hint that my near-death experience was making him re-evaluate his recent decisions.

    
Nothing.

    
He stared back just as intently, like he had the same question about me. We didn’t say anything.

    
Over his shoulder, I saw the door open, and my parents came in.

    
“She’s awake.” Jacob leaned over, gave me a brotherly kiss on the cheek and said the three words every girl longs to hear. “Feel better soon.”

    
Then my mom was beside me. This time the tears fell.

    
Just as Mom had pronounced my face to be mascara free, the doctor arrived and said I could go home. As poisonings go, mine had been rather mild. The way my muscles ached as I clutched my hospital gown together in the back and hobbled to the bathroom contradicted that diagnosis.

    
“Shit, Mom!” I called out, catching sight of myself in the mirror.

    
Mom rushed to help. “What?”

    
“What the hell happened to my mouth?”

    
Mom was in no mood for cosmetic emergencies after a night of medical ones. “It’s the charcoal they gave you for the poison. It made your lips a little black.”

    
“A little? You couldn’t have run a wet washcloth over them? Jacob was here.” I grabbed a towel and started scrubbing.

    
“We all had more important things on our minds.” Her tone was stern. And something else.

    
“Why do I keep crying?” I said into the towel.

    
“Let’s go home.”

    
Home was my parents’ house where they took me to convalesce. I had made a couple of perfunctory protests, but had given in pretty easily. Their couch and I are old friends.

    
McGowan dropped in bearing gifts.

    
“Saltines. My favorite.” I said, taking off the bow.

    
“When I saw them, I thought of you.”

    
“Sorry about your shoes.”

    
“Me, too. They were my favorites.”

    
“I’ll pay for them.” Embarrassing.

    
“What happened to his shoes?” My mother came in with a glass of tea for McGowan and water for me. I still tasted charcoal.

    
“Collateral damage.” McGowan’s face sobered. “And no, you don’t have to pay for them. That’s how they would’ve wanted to go - in the line of duty.”

    
My mother sat next to him on the love seat. “Detective McGowan. Max. I can’t thank you enough for your quick thinking. We’re so grateful to you.”

    
“I’m just glad I was there, Mrs. Carstairs. It was luck more than anything.”

   
 
My stomach was too delicate for such touching scenes. “Any leads?” I nibbled a saltine.

    
They looked at me blankly.

    
“You know. Fingerprints. Bank statements. Any of our suspects bought Godiva chocolates lately?”

    
They exchanged grave looks before McGowan spoke. “Look, Chloe. I know you and your mother wanted to help Angela, but now, it’s too dangerous.”

    
Amanda agreed.

    
“This was all your idea,” I protested. “I didn’t want to do it, but you insisted.”

    
Mom’s look was patient. “And now, I’m insisting we stop.”

    
“But someone tried to kill me.” I would’ve yelled, but my ab muscles were too sore.

    
“Exactly why you should leave police work to the police,” McGowan stated, a new firmness in his tone. “It’s too dangerous for amateurs.”

    
A flicker of irritation passed across Mom’s face, but she nodded. “It’s too risky.”

    
“Tell me something I don’t know. I’m the one they came after. I thought this whole thing was a lark, but now it’s self-defense.”

    
“No. It’s what’s it’s always been,” McGowan said. “A police investigation. Speaking of which, I’d like to ask you two a favor.”

    
I wasn’t in the mood to play nice, but Mom assumed her how-may-I-help face.

    
“I’d like to keep the poisoning quiet. Let us continue our investigation and see if anyone tips their hand.”

    
“You don’t think they’ll try again, do you, thinking she didn’t eat the chocolates?” Mom asked.

    
“The mere fact that she’s still alive could prompt them to try again, whether they know she ate the chocolates or not. That’s why it’s important for you both to be careful and stay out of this.”

    
I was tired of being talked about like I wasn’t in the room. “What about Angela?” I faced Mom. “A.K.A. suspect number one?”