Lethal Lasagna (10 page)

I squealed and ran after my dog. We dashed to the front door. To my surprise, he stopped and jumped on the screen door, his tail wagging a greeting to Sara, my next-door neighbor.

Out of breath and with my heart pounding in my chest and ears, I felt like a fool. He hadn’t been running from danger, but had heard her on the front porch. My hand shook as I opened the door. “Hello, Sara.” I sounded as breathless as I felt.

“Hi Claire, may I come in?” she asked, shifting from one combat boot to the other. If she noticed my breathlessness, it didn’t show in her serious expression.

An offensive odor radiated from her body. Had the girl just stepped out of an outhouse? I resisted the urge to crinkle my nose as I remembered she worked in sewers.

“Sure.” I stepped back to let her in and noticed her large lunch box. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I was just about to make a pot of tea.”

“Thanks. If you don’t mind, I’ll leave my boots here by the door.” She was already unlacing the mud-splattered footwear. At least I hoped it were mud.

“Not at all, I’ll go start the tea.” I prayed silently as I went. Lord, thank You for keeping me safe, and Lord, please help me to overcome this fear. In You I have nothing to fear. Right? “Right.” I answered myself, knowing it to be true.

I put on the teakettle and glanced at the clock on the stove. At two in the afternoon, Sara was getting a late lunch. I pulled a bagel from the pantry and grabbed the strawberry cream cheese from the fridge. My salad from lunch had all but vanished.

Sara entered the kitchen and placed her lunchbox on the table. “Mind if I go ahead and eat?”

She’d taken off the cover-alls that had concealed her jeans and red tee shirt. I noted that most of the odor must have stayed behind with the clothes and boots. For that I was grateful.

“Not at all, I’m going to have a snack, too.” I indicated the bagels and cream cheese I’d just set on the table.

I got down two cups and the sugar bowl for the tea and then set a small pot of water on the stove before sprinkling a generous amount of cinnamon and sugar into it. Soon, the sweet fragrance filled the kitchen and covered the last of the offensive smell.

“What are you doing home for lunch today?” I placed the teapot and cups on the table.

She pulled two thick sandwiches, bag of chips, a cup of applesauce, and two bananas from the pail. “I wanted to talk about that man spending the night with you last night. Some of the neighbors and I are concerned.” Sara bit into the sandwich and chewed.

I almost told her Brandon was none of their business. But something in her eyes stopped me. Instead I asked. “Go ahead.” I split a bagel in half.

“It’s not right. He shouldn’t have stayed the night.” She gulped her tea.

I calmly spread cream cheese on the bread. “No? Why not?”

She picked up a paper napkin and wiped her mouth. “People are talking, and we agree that this is a respectable neighborhood. Men shouldn’t be sleeping on single ladies’ porches; you know that.” Her voice had risen in anger with each word and she tossed the napkin down and grabbed up the sandwich once more.

I counted to twenty. Honey draws flies better than vinegar. The old quote from my mother echoed in my ears. I never listened as well to her as I should. “You’re right. But, he wouldn’t sleep in the guestroom like I wanted.” It gave me some satisfaction to see the blood rush into her face.

“You asked him to stay in the house? Are you out of your mind?”

I swallowed. Sara meant well. She didn’t want our neighbors to think ill of me but that didn’t excuse her behavior or the manner in which she was speaking to me. I am old enough to be her mother. Brown eyes the size of doughnuts stared back at me.

“Look, Sara. I wouldn’t say I am out of my mind, but I also don’t think you should be concerned about Brandon sleeping on my porch either.”

The young woman started to protest. I held up my hand to stop her. “I know you mean well, but Brandon will be staying here until Mitzi’s murderer is captured and there’s nothing you can do about it. Except, assure the neighbors it is all innocent and that Mr. Harvest and I are just friends.” I refilled her teacup.

Were we really just friends? The kiss and the way he’d spoken earlier in the day had indicated he felt more for me than just friendship. I knew I felt more strongly about him too, but there was nothing either of us could do about that right now. At least, I didn’t feel like we could. Finding Mitzi’s murderer was what I planned to focus on. Not romance.

Her now calm voice pulled me from those thoughts. “If you’re just friends, then why is he staying here?” She used a plastic spoon and scooped out her applesauce.

“After yesterday’s attempt on my life, Brandon feels like I need someone to stay with me. He’s being friendly, that’s all.” I laid down the bagel and wiped my hands on a napkin.

Sara munched on her chips. Her gaze remained focused on my face. “Maybe, the brownies were just a warning to stay out of Mitzi’s case.”

I had to admit she had a good point. “You might be right.”

She repacked her lunch box. “Sure I’m right. The killer probably knew your mom died a long time ago and couldn’t have possibly baked those brownies or left that note here. See? A warning.”

I nodded and then watched as Sara pushed up from the table. She smiled and picked up the pail. “Thanks for the tea. I’ll try to soothe the neighbors, but please be careful with Mr. Harvest. I don’t trust him.”

Later, Sprocket and I walked around our block. I wondered if Sara could be right. Had the brownies been a warning? I’d been looking at the brownie incident as if someone who didn’t know me had left them but what if the person did know me.

And why didn’t she trust Brandon? Did she think he might have something to do with Mitzi’s death? Was that the reason he was staying close to me? Had I told him about my mother before the brownies arrival?

I couldn’t think clearly. The sun beat down on my head giving me a headache. I took the shortest path back to the house and let Sprocket loose in the front yard. After making sure he had plenty of water, I headed to the house for a cool shower and a nap.

As the water washed over my heated body, I couldn’t shake Sara’s warning. Brandon hadn’t done anything for me to suspect him of murdering Mitzi. But, what was it they say about murderers? They are usually someone you know?

Unable to sleep, I picked up the phone and called Gloria. Maybe she could help me work through these new doubts. Gloria didn’t answer. Before her answering machine could come on, I hung up. I pushed myself up from the bed, slipped off the gown and slid into a pair of sweats and a bright pink tee shirt. Then I headed for the kitchen.

I searched the fridge for something easy to make for dinner. Now that Brandon would be staying on my porch every night, would I need to include him in my dinner plans? I closed the door and moved to the table. It was time to make a decision about Brandon Harvest. Was he a suspect or a friend? And if he was a suspect, should I allow him to stay on my front porch?

Brandon chose that moment to pull into the driveway. He tugged two bags from the front seat and then hurried to the back door. I met him there. The smell of Chinese food drifted from the bags.

“I hope you haven’t started dinner.” He smiled.

The dimple in his left cheek winked at me as he passed. Well, it didn’t exactly wink but it sure was cute. Stop! He might be a suspect. Remember? “That smells wonderful.” I followed him into the room.

He set down the bags and began pulling out containers. “I thought this would be easier since we have class tonight.”

I moved to the cabinets and brought out two plates, two sets of silverware, and then got the soy sauce from the fridge. “It’s funny you should mention dinner. I was just wondering what our arrangement would be.” I put the utensils and condiments on the table and then handed him several serving spoons for the various dishes.

He grinned at me. “Well, since we are sort of living together, I thought I’d supply dinner one night and you could the next. How does that grab you?”

The aroma of sweet-and-sour sauce pulled me toward the table. “Tonight it grabs me just fine. I’ll let you know how I feel about it tomorrow night when it’s my turn to fix dinner.”

His laughter filled the kitchen. “Come get it before it gets cold.”

“I will as soon as you tell me what you’d like to drink. Soda? Tea? Or water?” I filled two glasses with ice.

Brandon dished rice onto his plate. “Tea, please.”

I poured tea for both of us and headed back to the table. He waited until I was seated and then said grace over the food. A murderer wouldn’t say grace at every meal, would he? I told myself to stop being silly, but my head had resumed its dull ache. It seemed lately I’d become headache prone, could it have anything to do with my thyroid? Maybe, I made a mental note to tell the doctor about it at my next appointment.

After several long moments of silence, Brandon frowned across at me and asked. “Is something wrong?”

I attempted a smile. “I have a headache.”

Concern laced his eyes. “When did it start?”

“When I took Sprocket for his afternoon walk.” I picked at the rice on my plate. The desire to tell Brandon about Sara’s visit pulled at me, but I refused to share the information with him.

He chewed, and then swallowed. “What did you eat today?”

I knew where he was going with this line of questioning and felt like a two year old. “Just a salad at Jerome’s Salad Bar and a bagel with cream cheese here this afternoon.”

“Do you feel sick otherwise?” He reached across the table and patted my hand.

I jerked my hand away. “I’ve not been poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I pushed back on my chair and stood. “Look Brandon, I don’t feel good. I’m going to go lay down for awhile.”

The hurt look on his features tugged at my heart. “Okay, do you want me to wake you a few minutes before we have to leave for class?”

“No. I think I’ll skip class tonight. Thanks anyway.” I stomped down the hallway angry that I’d allowed Sara’s suggestion to upset me. These suspicions and doubts where Brandon was concerned made my head feel as if a vice was wrapped around my forehead. I decided now was the time to do some serious praying. I knelt beside my bed and poured out all my doubts and fears to the Lord. Peace sluiced over me as I prayed and listened for His voice.

An hour later, I heard Brandon’s pickup back out of the driveway. My knees creaked as I pushed myself up from the bed. Sometimes I wish the Lord would speak to us in a voice like we speak to each other, maybe He does to other people, but for me I have to rely on His peace to guide me. As I rubbed my sore knees I also wished He would talk faster.

I made my way to the bathroom and washed my face with a cool rag. I’d overreacted to Sara’s suggestion that Brandon couldn’t be trusted. Just because she didn’t know him, she didn’t trust him.

I should have known Brandon wasn’t a murderer and I should have taken it to the Lord sooner. Thanks to the assurance I felt now, I knew I could trust Brandon.

Since I’d already missed the class, I decided to call Jake and ask what he wanted me to do with his mother’s clothes.

He answered the phone after the second ring. “You can have them. Keep what you want and give the rest to charity. I really appreciate you doing this for me, Claire. I’m not sure I could have done it.”

“You’re welcome.”

He cleared his throat and then asked, “Have the police come up with any suspects yet as to who might have killed my mother?”

I could still hear the hurt in his voice. “Not yet. I’ve been checking into it, and I’m not doing any better than the police. I’m sorry.”

We hung up a few moments later. I changed into a pair of jeans and then drove to Mitzi’s apartment. The aroma of staleness surrounded me as I looked about the empty rooms. I opened the bedroom closet. The sweet fragrance of floral perfume that Mitzi always wore filled my nose. My eyes stung with unshed tears. Sorrow closed off my throat. The unfathomable emotion took me by surprise.

Inhaling, I began pulling clothes off the hangers and shoving them into large black garbage bags. I tried not to think as I did this. Several garments had pins attached to them. Others had earrings and necklaces hooked onto the hangers. I took each piece of jewelry off the clothes and placed them in a bag that I would later give to Jake.

Once all the clothes were removed, I stared at the pocketbooks and shoes that lined the floor and shelves of the closet. Mitzi had matching purses and shoes for every outfit. I placed them in the trash bags with the last bag of clothes.

Now that I’d done what I came to do, I walked about the empty apartment. Nothing remained of my friend. I sighed and went back for the bags of clothes. It took three trips but soon I had them all in the car. I locked the door one last time and left.

My first stop was to deliver the key back to Mitzi’s landlord. I thanked him and then drove on to a local church, where I delivered three bags of clothes and two of shoes and pocketbooks. The rest I took home with me.

****

The next morning, I put on a lavender dress, a pair of red heels, my red lipstick, and the new hat I’d bought the day before. Then I sat down in front of the vanity and painted my finger and toenails blood red. I felt refreshed from a good night’s sleep and was excited about my upcoming meeting.

The smell of sausage and coffee floated down the hallway. I followed the mouth-watering scents.

“Good morning, sleepy head.” Brandon turned around and looked at me. He whistled and grinned. “You look...red this morning.”

I laughed. “Thanks. That’s just the look I’m going for.”

He turned back to the toaster. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry.” I poured coffee into my favorite mug and sat down at the table. I stared down at the plate of scrambled eggs and sausage he sat in front of me. Was it all in my head, or had I been eating a lot lately?

“No worries. We all have bad days.” He carried his own plate to the table and said grace.

I unfolded the paper napkin and laid it in my lap. “Thanks for understanding.”