Tempest in the Tea Leaves (10 page)

“Well, then, you’d also know I eat dinner at the same time every night at Papas Restaurant. They can verify my alibi. And you’re right. I did have a thing for Amanda. I would never hurt her, but she made it clear she only wanted to be friends and that would never change. All I wanted to do was be there for her.”

“Is that what you said to her when you told her about the tumors?” I asked softly. “So that you’d be there for her and she wouldn’t have to go through that alone?”

“Kip didn’t release that information to the public in his coroner’s report.” Mitch stared hard at me. “How did you know about her medical condition?”

“Tea leaves, remember? Or maybe the cuckoo bird told me.” I fluttered my lashes at him, and he grunted, rolling his eyes. I turned to the doctor. “That must have been rough when she rejected your attempt to comfort her in her time of need. Especially when she had no one else.”

He clenched his jaw and ground out, “Look, I’m not the one you should be talking to. Amanda was a sweet, quiet woman, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have enemies. Callista Papas hated her for some reason. I never realized how much until the morning of Amanda’s death.”

The doc stood and began to pace. “Amanda came into the office all concerned about her health once again. She’s allergic to nuts and would never eat them knowingly. Yet when she walked through this very door, her face was swelled up like a blowfish. When I asked her about it, she swore she hadn’t had nuts that morning, just a banana muffin from Papas. I’d bet my practice if you had a sample of that muffin, you’d find ground walnuts as part of the ingredients.”

“Oh my gosh, Mitch, do—”

“Detective.”

“Whatever. Do you think Mrs. Papas could be the woman Miss Hanes said Ms. Robbins argued with on the morning of her death?”

His look said,
Shut up now, Tink, you’re revealing too much again
, but his words came out polite and respectful and directed toward the doctor. “Thank you for your time, Dr. Wilcox. Here’s my card. If you can think of anything else, please give me a call day or night.” Mitch stood, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the office to the parking lot.

“Easy there, Conan.” I dug in my heels and stopped short before his car. “This is the new millennium. Being a barbarian went out centuries ago.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Yet being a blabbermouth is apparently still in fashion.”

I looked sheepish. “Sorry, this whole partner thing is still new to me.”

“Assistant.”

“That really bugs you, doesn’t it? Look, I want to solve this case more than anyone. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m going to screw you over like your ex.”

A blast of icy snow swirled around us, and Mitch’s face hardened. “Don’t go there, Tink.”

“I’m sorry, okay? It’s just you have a really big chip on your shoulder that has nothing to do with me. I only want—”

“Drop it and get in.” He climbed in his car and slammed the door shut.

“Fine, but—” My phone started playing the theme song to the
Addams Family
. “Morty,” I whispered with concern. I’d had a funny feeling when I’d dropped Morty off at the vet this morning, so I’d set that song as my ringtone for their office just in case they called.

“Your cat can dial the phone?” He gaped at me. “What the hell’s next?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scoffed.

“Hey, I wouldn’t put anything past that thing. And how come he gets a cool ringtone?”

I rolled my eyes and answered the call from the vet. “Hello, Dr. Parker, is something wrong? I thought I wasn’t supposed to pick up Morty until the end of the day. Is he sick?”

“Hi, Sunny, please call me Sherry. I don’t want to alarm you, but I really don’t know how Morty is. He looked healthy to me, but I never got the chance to examine him. There’s no way he could have escaped, but when I went in to the exam room, he was gone as though he’d simply vanished.”

A calm settled over me, and I knew in my gut that Morty was fine. He was home, I was sure of it. He didn’t want to have a physical, and that was that. End of discussion, and end of vet appointment, apparently. “Thanks, Sherry. I think I know where he is.”

“Do you want to reschedule his appointment, then? I could make an exception and come to your house if you think it would be easier on him.”

“Morty’s not afraid, he’s stubborn. Can I get back to you on the whole house call thing?”

“Sure. No problem, just give me a call.”

I disconnected and climbed into the detective’s car.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“Everything is fine. Where to, boss?”

“
Now
you call me boss?” He shook his head. “How about lunch?”

“Good, I’m starving.”

“I know the perfect place.” He fired up the car and pulled away from the curb. “Care for a little Greek?”

I rubbed my hands together. “You read my mind exactly.”

 

 

Papas was pretty busy when we entered at noon, not a free table in sight. Detective Stone asked to speak to the owner, and we were treated to her own personal table in the back.

Once we’d all ordered, Mrs. Papas said, “Nice to see you again, Miss Meadows. Did you and your parents enjoy your dinner with Dr. Wilcox last night?”

Mitch choked on his hamburger, took a swig of water, and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You didn’t tell me you had dinner with the doc.” He stared at me accusingly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know we were sharing information. I thought I was just an assistant.” I looked up at him all innocent-like and sipped my iced tea.

He studied me for a full minute. “What else are you hiding?”

I tossed up my hands and sat back. “Nothing, okay? It was just dinner, and my dad wanted to meet a fellow doctor, that’s all.”

“Riiight.”

“As much as I enjoy the entertainment, you two, I know this isn’t a social call,” Mrs. Papas said. “What do you want to know?”

The detective set down his fork and took another drink of water, then he wiped his mouth. “For starters, where were you on the night of Ms. Robbins’s murder?”

Mrs. Papas threw back her head and laughed. “Running my restaurant, of course.”

“Your husband never takes a turn?” I asked.

The smile left her face. “My husband takes a lot of things, but taking a turn at work is not one of them. I run the restaurant while he keeps the books. I work my fingers to the bone while he goes to the gym . . . or so he says. Do you know what my name stands for?”

I shook my head no.

“Callista means ‘most beautiful.’ My husband’s name, Damon, means ‘constant and loyal.’ It didn’t seem quite so ironic when I married him. Why doesn’t he see he has the most beautiful woman already? I never should have married the lying cheater.”

“Did you visit Ms. Robbins the morning of her death?” Mitch asked.

“I cater the library’s author readings and book talks. I needed to speak to Amanda about the menu.”

“Her neighbor heard you two argue,” I added.

“Was poisoning her on the menu as well?” the detective added.

“Oh, please.” Mrs. Papas thumped her fist down on the table. “That little tramp was having an affair with my husband. I knew her allergy wouldn’t kill her. She deserved far more than a slight reaction to some nuts. I was simply warning her to stay away.”

“Maybe your husband was about to leave you for the librarian, so you killed her,” the detective said point-blank.

Her face hardened. “Nonsense. We have been trying to start a family for years. If my husband leaves me for another woman, he knows I will castrate him myself. He knows I want children, but he has been unable to give them to me, so now I make his life a living hell in return. Maybe I should seek elsewhere for that as well, no?” She leaned forward, looked Mitch over, and licked her lips. “Having children is my passion.”

He loosened his collar, eyeing her uncomfortably.

“Why not divorce?” I asked, saving his butt from her unwanted advances. Why, I had no clue. If I were smart, I’d let him squirm.

“We don’t believe in it.” She blew out a heap of air. “No, we made our choice, and now we have to live with it.” She stabbed a finger in our direction. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to make it easy on him.”

“What size shoe does your husband wear?” I asked as a thought occurred to me.

“My husband has very small feet. Why?”

“Just wondering.” I struggled not to be a blabbermouth, but my eyes spoke volumes as I stared at Mitch and winked several times.

“Honey, you should have that twitch looked at,” Mrs. Papas said to me.

“I know, it’s really irritating, but no matter what I do, I can’t seem to make it go away.” I refused to look at Mitch, but I felt his gaze sizzle in my direction.

“Speaking of the doctor. You should talk to him. The whole town knows he had it bad for Ms. Robbins.”

“We already did. He says they were only friends,” I said.

“Yeah, but a lot of people heard him argue with her that day when she came in to see him about the nut reaction. He treated her and then asked her to marry him, saying he would take care of her in her time of need—whatever that meant. She turned him down flat, and he threatened her. Said one day she’d be sorry and regret turning him down.”

“Can’t be the doctor. He has an airtight alibi,” Mitch said.

“He might . . . but does his nurse?”

“His nurse? Why her?” I asked, realizing she had access to digoxin as well.

“Word around town is she was jealous over all the attention he gave to Amanda. You look a little hot under the collar, Detective. Maybe it’s time you had your temperature checked.” Mrs. Papas winked at Mitch.

Mitch kept his emotionless cop face firmly in place and then stood. “Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Papas, here’s—”

“My card,” I finished, and handed her the business cards I’d had made for Sunny’s Sanctuary. It was all I had, but at least it had my contact information on it. “If you hear anything at all, please don’t hesitate to call. . . . Oh yeah, day or night.” I beamed at Mitch, starting to feel like I was getting the hang of this.

He handed over his card as well. “Ma’am.” He saluted the Greek woman and then turned to me. “Let’s go, Tink, we’re still on the clock, and I’ve got a whopper of a headache.”

“I know just who to go to for some aspirin.”

“What are you doing?” I asked Mitch as he dropped me off at home after lunch.

“Taking care of my headache.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. I thought we were going to talk to Nurse Doolittle?”

“
We
aren’t doing anything.
You
are staying here while I talk to the nurse.”

“But I thought Captain Walker said we were to work together.”

“Just because we work together doesn’t mean we have to be together 24/7, Tink.” He brushed a hand over his face and then stabbed a finger at me. “You give me a hell of a lot more than a pain in my head.”

I plopped my hands on my hips. “Ditto, buster. But what exactly am I supposed to do?” My mouth fell open as I glared at him.

“Close your mouth, for one. I can see your tonsils, Tink.”

I snapped my jaw shut and ground my molars so hard my ears tingled. But I couldn’t stay quiet. “No, seriously, what should I do?”

His lips twitched once, and then he grew stern. “Hell, I don’t know. Take up knitting? I really don’t care so long as it doesn’t involve you screwing up my case. Play around on the Internet, make notes, whatever. . . . Just quit interfering with my leads. You’re messing up my system, and I don’t like it.”

“Well, I don’t like you.” I poked him in the chest.

“Good. Then we’re even.” He poked me back, and I gasped. He had some nerve. I wriggled my nose as if conjuring a spell, but he just smirked and then turned around to march out to his car.

Morty dropped from a tree and landed right in front of him on all four paws with hackles raised.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Mitch bellowed, and stumbled back, reaching for his gun. “I thought that, that . . . thing was at the vet’s.” He gave Morty a wide berth, weapon drawn and held tight in his hands but pointed down at the snow-covered ground.

Morty blinked at him, stretched, and then flicked his tail, which had Mitch flinching. Then the cat walked inside Vicky’s open door with what sounded suspiciously like hissing laughter.

I had never loved him more.

Mitch cursed softly under his breath, sheathed his gun, and then stabbed a finger in my direction. “Stay out of trouble, Tink. That’s an order.”