Laced with Poison (23 page)

“Alfred? He’s the mayor now.”

“That’s what someone told me. And why not? The position doesn’t pay, and he sure doesn’t
need the money.” John shook his head. “For a long time it looked as if there wasn’t
ever going to be a Porter heir. I think Constance was in her forties when Alfred came
along. And then surprise, another boy, Wyatt. Of course he gets a pittance compared
to what Alfred inherits.” He gave a loud guffaw. “I started with nothing, and I’m
proud to say that everything we have”—he squeezed his wife’s shoulders—“I earned myself.
Nothing wrong with hard work.”

Emma and Brian murmured agreement. Conversation ebbed and flowed, and finally Emma
was finishing the last bite of her chicken.

“Did you know Brian used to date my baby sister at UT?” John leaned back in his chair
and surveyed his dinner companions.

Emma had no idea what to say, but she managed to plaster an interested look on her
face as she waited for John to continue.

“It didn’t last long. They weren’t cut out for each other.” He smiled smugly. “She’s
happily married now with a baby
on the way.” He threw a benign look in Brian’s direction. “Then there was that other
girl. What was her name?”

“Amy,” Brian mumbled.

John gave a deep sigh, leaned back in his seat and stretched his legs out under the
table. “When we first met Brian, we were really worried about him. This girl, Amy”—he
looked to Brian for confirmation—“threw him over, and he was in quite a funk.”

John glanced across the table at Lara, and they smiled at each other. “But then you
came along!” John turned toward Emma so suddenly that she jumped. “We’re so grateful
to you for putting the smile back on Brian’s face.”

Emma glanced at Brian out of the corner of her eye. She thought his face was slightly
red, and she looked down at her plate to hide the small smile that tugged at her lips.

“Okay, how about some dessert?” John said, as the waiter removed their plates. He
clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly.

Brian caught Emma’s eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Emma returned
the gesture.

Brian made a big show of looking at his watch. “I’m so sorry, John, but we have to
bolt. We’re…”

“Catching a movie,” Emma said smoothly.

“Oh, what are you going to see?” John looked disappointed.

“The…the…” Brian stumbled.

“That new foreign flick. I’m afraid I can’t pronounce the title.”

“Well, you two have a good time.”

Brian began to signal for the waiter, but John stopped him.

“This is on me.” He stood up. “It’s been a real pleasure meeting you, Emma.” He shook
her hand.

Lara got up as well, but instead of shaking Emma’s and Brian’s
hands, she kissed them both on the cheek, European style.

“Thanks so much,” Brian called over his shoulder as they made their way through the
tables toward the front door.

Brian grabbed Emma’s hand as they headed toward Liz’s station wagon.

“Sorry about that.” He stopped and turned Emma to face him. “I was looking forward
to an evening alone with you, but I didn’t want to turn John down.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Emma linked her arm through his. “I understand.”

“Since we didn’t get dessert, how about some ice cream?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Brian opened the passenger door for Emma.

He was getting behind the wheel when his cell phone rang.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, digging in his jacket pocket. “I was sure I’d turned this
beastly thing off.” He pulled out the phone and glanced at the number. His features
froze.

Emma couldn’t miss the look on his face. “You’d better answer it.”

Brian hesitated, and she insisted. “Please, go ahead.”

Brian pushed the button and placed the phone against his ear. “Hello?”

As is so often the case with cell phones, Emma was able to hear every word.

“Brian? It’s Amy,” the voice echoing from the cell said.

“Amy?”

Emma tried to analyze the tone of Brian’s voice. Hopeful? Happy? Excited? Or just
plain curious?

“I wanted to tell you,” Amy continued, “that Tony and I have called off the wedding.
We’ve broken up.” There was a pause. “I need to see you.”

An entire rainbow of emotions passed over Brian’s face as Emma watched. “I can’t talk
now. I’ll call you later.” He flicked the phone off and turned toward Emma.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know.”

BRIAN was quiet as they drove to get their ice cream. He pulled into the parking lot
of the Dairy Queen and maneuvered into a space. There were a number of other cars
in the lot with music blaring from their partially open windows.

“What will you have?” Brian asked as they approached the counter.

“A small vanilla cone.” Emma really wanted sprinkles, but that seemed too unsophisticated
after their meal at L’Etoile.

“I think we’re a little overdressed,” Brian said as he tugged at his tie to loosen
it.

“That’s for sure.”

They took their cones back to the car and ate by the glow of the sodium lights.

“What do you think I should do about Amy?” Brian finally said.

“Amy?” Emma wasn’t sure what to tell him.

“I don’t really want to see her ever again. People talk about closure, but I’m not
sure what that means.”

“Well…” Emma was thinking fast. “Sometimes it’s helpful to talk to the person and
sort of…square things up.” She thought about her ex-boyfriend Guy. There’d been no
chance for closure with him—he’d been murdered before there was any opportunity for
that.

“That makes sense.” Brian sat still, his cone momentarily forgotten. “But I’m still
not sure I want to see her again.” He jerked as a dribble of cold ice cream slid down
his hand.

“You don’t have to decide right away.”

“That’s true. It isn’t as if I don’t already have a lot on my mind. I’m still awfully
worried about Liz. Not only the money issue, but this whole business of that woman
dying from the poisonous flower. She had a call from her old advisor at UT saying
the police had been around asking questions about her and this Jessica Scott. Liz
hardly knew her.”

“Liz and I have uncovered another suspect.” Emma told Brian about Lotte Fanning and
the dent in her front bumper. “If Lotte can’t come up with a plausible reason for
it, I’m going to the police.”

Brian was already shaking his head. “No. I don’t want you talking to her. What if
she is the murderer? What’s going to stop her from killing you, too? Leave it up to
the police. Please.”

Detective Walker crossed Emma’s mind, but she pushed the thought away.

“Promise me you’ll stay far away from Lotte Fanning.”

“Okay.” Emma crossed her fingers behind her back.

“Promise?” Brian said again.

“Yes,” Emma said with slightly more conviction.

“You’ve got some ice cream right by the side of your mouth.” Brian’s
voice grew husky. He wiped gently at the spot with his index finger.

Emma closed her eyes as Brian’s face got nearer and his lips found hers.

*   *   *

EMMA woke up early on Sunday morning. She pulled back the curtains and peered out.
Rain created rivulets down Washington Street, puddling in the gutters and lashing
the shop windows. Emma let the curtain fall back into place. A good day to stay in
bed.

But she was concerned about Arabella. She reached for her phone but then decided that
instead she would pick up some croissants or whatever she could find at Kroger’s,
and go over to Arabella’s for breakfast. Maybe it would be good to invite Sylvia,
too. She and Arabella had become quite good friends, and Sylvia somehow always managed
to bring everyone back down to earth. Emma grabbed her cell.

Sylvia answered almost immediately, and they arranged to meet at Arabella’s in half
an hour.

Emma pulled on a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt and a zip-up sweatshirt. Once again
she was glad she’d cut her hair short and needed to do little more than pull a comb
through it. A dash of lipstick, and she was ready to go out the door.

The parking lot at Kroger’s was fairly full, and there were quite a few people gathered
around the bakery section. Emma snared some chocolate croissants and headed toward
the cashiers.

Five minutes later she was knocking on Arabella’s front door. The paperboy had thrown
the
Post
onto the porch, but not quite far enough. When Emma picked it up, she noticed the
edges were damp and curling.

Arabella opened the door moments later, and it was obvious she hadn’t slept well…if
at all. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, and her usually well coiffed long,
gray hair was pulled back willy-nilly into a slapdash ponytail.

“Oh, it is good to see you,” she said as she hugged Emma. “I’ve spent a terrible night,
imaging all sorts of horrors.”

“Is there any news?” Emma asked as she followed Arabella into the kitchen. A pot of
coffee was already sitting on the warmer. She tossed the newspaper onto the kitchen
table.

“Tea?” Arabella opened a cupboard and pulled out a box of green tea bags.

“Thanks.” Emma got a plate from the cupboard and arranged the croissants on it.

Arabella brought a mug of tea to the table and handed it to Emma. She was about to
sit down when the front bell rang.

“Sylvia,” Emma said in answer to Arabella’s quizzical look. “I’ll get it.”

Sylvia was wearing a tightly belted black trench coat with the collar turned up and
a broad-brimmed black fedora. Emma thought she looked a little like Boris from
Bullwinkle
.

“It’s raining cats and dogs out there.” Sylvia closed her umbrella and shook it vigorously.
“Should I leave this out here?”

“No need. Arabella has an umbrella stand inside.”

Sylvia stowed her umbrella and raincoat, and they headed back to the kitchen, where
Emma got down another mug and poured Sylvia some coffee.

“Black.” Sylvia held up a hand as Emma stood poised with sugar and milk.

“So.” Sylvia took a big slurp of coffee. “Any news?”

“I talked to someone at the TBI last night.” Arabella broke a tiny piece off her croissant
and rolled it back and forth between her thumb and index finger. “They’ve heard from
Francis. At least he’s still alive.” She swiped a tear from her cheek.

“Is the bank negotiating?” Sylvia broke her croissant in half and took a big bite.

“Yes. They said they’ve got a whole team on it.” Arabella dropped the tiny bit of
croissant back onto her plate. “I don’t see why he can’t retire. At his age—going
undercover. Imagine!”

“Men.” Sylvia dunked a bit of croissant into her coffee. “They’re stubborn.”

“You can say that again.”

Arabella gave a tiny smile, which made Emma feel slightly better.

“Did I tell you?” Sylvia paused and wiped a smidge of chocolate from her lip. “That
poor old dear who was taken to the hospital—”

“The one the police think someone tried to smother?”

“Yeah. That’s the one. She’s back at Sunny Days. I saw the ambulance pull in last
night. And the state surveyors have been crawling all over the place. Poor Missy is
being run off her feet. Somehow I think she imagined she’d be spending her time filing
her nails like Jessica did.”

“It’s beginning to look as if Lotte Fanning might have killed to get her daughter
that job.”

“What?” Sylvia choked on her coffee.

Emma brought her up to date about the dent in Lotte’s car and the fact that she’d
been having an affair with Jim Calhoun before Jessica snagged him.

“Sounds like she’s our woman.”

Emma caught a glimpse of the front page of the
Post
she’d brought
in earlier. She spun the paper around to face her.

“Look at this.” She pointed at one of the headlines. “It looks like the police are
continuing their investigation.” She read the first few lines of the article. “It
says that they haven’t found any garages locally that did bodywork on any cars that
might have been involved in the hit-and-run that killed Gladys, so they’ve expanded
their search outside the area to Memphis and Nashville.”

“You’ve got to tell Detective Walker about finding that dent in Lotte Fanning’s car,”
Arabella said.

“I know,” Emma admitted with a sinking heart.

*   *   *

BY Monday morning the rain had stopped and pale sun peeked from between the clouds.
Emma opened the door to Sweet Nothings. It wasn’t time to open yet, and she needed
to do a little accounting first. Arabella was a whiz at finding exquisite vintage
pieces, but she was hopeless with numbers.

Emma was staring at some figures—at least they were getting better—when she heard
Arabella enter. She joined her aunt in the stockroom for a cup of tea. Pierre headed
straight for his dog bed. Obviously the car ride over had exhausted him and he was
ready for his first nap of the day.

Pierre was snoring softly when they heard someone banging on the front door. Pierre
levitated from the bed and was on all four paws, barking, before Emma could even blink.