Silver Six Crafting Mystery 01 - Basket Case Page 10

  “What?” she said faintly.

  Alarm bells went off in my head. I dropped the letter in my hand and rushed to kneel beside her. “Sherry, what’s wrong?”

  “Sick. Help me. Fred’s bathroom. Door over there.”

  She pointed toward the far corner of the room, her hand trembling even more than her body. I got her in the bathroom, but we only made it as far as the walk-in shower before she sank to her knees and retched. I held her hair back, and when the first spasms passed and she didn’t keel over, I grabbed two white washcloths and wet them. One I laid across the back of her neck; the other I used to wipe her face. Her clammy face. Her breath smelled funny, but like what? I shook my head. It would come to me.

  “Aunt Sherry, do you have these spells often?”

  “Never.”

  “Do you have diabetes or any other condition?”

  “The candy, child. Don’t think it . . . was quite—”

  I tended to Sherry while she emptied her stomach again, praying that I’d hear Maise come downstairs. Or that someone—anyone—would come in.

  Meanwhile, my own gut churned in a mass of gnarled fear, disbelief, and fury because I’d finally recognized the funny odor.

  Garlic.

  The chocolates hadn’t just been off. They’d been poisoned.

  Chapter Ten

  THE SECOND I COULD SAFELY LEAVE SHERRY curled up on the tile floor, I dashed for my phone and yelled for Maise.

  My hands shook so hard, I fumbled the phone before I could hit the phone icon and dial 911. I didn’t stop there. I ran out to the back deck and screamed for help. Thank God Aster didn’t have acid rock blaring today.

  The emergency operator answered after what seemed an eternity but was probably seconds.

  “I need an ambulance at . . . Shoot, I can’t remember the address. But hurry. I think my aunt has been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” Maise’s voice boomed behind me. I turned as she rattled off the house address, and I repeated it. Aster stood with her.

  “Where?” Maise barked.

  “Downstairs bathroom.”

  “Move out, Aster.” They rushed inside and I felt a rush of gratitude that Maise had nursing experience.

  I spotted the other housemates hurrying from the barn. Fred’s walker clanked ninety to nothing as he strove to keep pace.

  “Stay on the line,” the operator instructed. “The EMTs are en route.”

  “You’re going to hear me talk to other people, but I’m here.”

  I broke the news to Eleanor, Dab, and Fred, even as we heard sirens blaring in the distance.

  Eleanor took charge. “Fred, go to the porch and direct the EMTs to the back deck. It’ll be easier to handle the stretcher from there. Dab, see if you need to shift furniture to clear a path in the parlor. I’ll find Sherry’s insurance cards. I do believe I know where she keeps them.” She briefly squeezed my arm. “You go back to her.”

  I did, but Aster barred the bathroom door. “We found her crawling to the toilet, muttering about Bill. She’s indisposed right now.”

  “The ambulance is coming.”

  “I hear them, honey. The police will be here, too, so better move that candy box somewhere safe.”

  Could a person feel herself pale? If so, I did.

  I whirled, my gaze darting, seeking the Be Sweet box, and finding it under the papers I’d dropped when I’d leapt up to help Sherry. Should I put the box in a bag? Would the police want to lift fingerprints? Sherry had handled the box, and who knew how many others? What the heck.

  I grabbed a flat paper bag that held enlarged photographs, dumped the photos and gathered them in a neat pile, and then eased the box inside, touching it only with a pen. Dab gave me an odd look but went back to wrestling with one end of the sofa. I placed the bag on the computer table, then helped Dab scooch the couch out of the way.

  EMTs stormed the room a minute later with a stretcher and big black cases of equipment. With Maise and Aster supporting her, Sherry emerged from the bathroom, deathly pale and shaking. The paramedics got her seated and began taking vitals, asking questions, starting an IV line. I answered questions about the onset of symptoms, Maise answered those about Sherry’s medical history and her primary physician’s name. Rattled as I was, I felt nothing but grateful that Sherry’s housemates had her medical information. My roommate, Vicki, couldn’t have provided any fact but my age.

  The EMTs were moving Sherry to the stretcher when a large, warm hand landed on my shoulder. I whirled to find Eric Shoar there, his expression grave.

  “Nixy, I know you want to go to the hospital, but I need a minute first.”

  I nodded, and, after I stopped to snag the bagged candy box, we threaded our way through the rescue team and housemates to the back deck. There the young black Lilyvale officer I’d met at the station stood at attention as if guarding the house.

  “Here,” I said, handing him the paper bag. “It’s the candy Sherry ate before she got sick.”

  “You told the dispatcher you suspected poison. Why?”

  “Because she was fine before she had the two pieces of chocolate. We’ve been together all day.”

  “You ate the same things?”

  “Not for breakfast at Lilies Café, but we split a barbeque sandwich plate at lunch. Besides, I smelled garlic on her breath after she was sick in the shower. That’s a sign of some kind of poison, but I don’t remember which one.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I dated a guy doing a residency in ER medicine. He talked about cases.”

  He didn’t make the smart remark I could see hovering on his tongue. Good thing, or I’d have punched him. The seniors were taking this more calmly than I’d hoped, while I felt like a blubbering mess.

  “Do the paramedics know about the odor?”

  “One of them checked Sherry’s breath.”

  “Good. Now, did the ladies clean up the emesis? Do you know?”

  “You’ll have to ask them. Eric, I can’t lose Aunt Sherry.”

  His brown eyes went soft with sympathy, and he enfolded me in a loose, supremely comforting hug. That nearly undid me.

  Probably would have, but an EMT pushed the kitchen screen door open and carefully lifted the wheels at his end of the stretcher over the threshold. Sherry looked so frail, eyes closed, and hooked up to an IV and oxygen. I choked back a sob, my chest aching with the effort. But I had to keep it together.

  “Come on.” Eric cupped my elbow and steered me back inside, where Maise was issuing orders.

  “I’ll ride with Nixy. Dab, you feel up to driving everyone else?”

  “I’ll start the car.”

  “Maise, a moment,” Eric said as Aster and Eleanor trotted off to get their purses. “Nixy says Miz Sherry Mae was ill in the shower. Did you clean it?”

  “No time, and we figured you’d want to run tests.”

  “I’m calling in a county CSI tech so I can come to the hospital. You okay with leaving the house unlocked if I leave the officer out back here?”

  “Yes, yes,” she said dismissively. Eleanor and Aster were back, and Aster handed Maise her purse. “Nixy, where is your bag?”

  “Parlor.” I spun away, found my purse in the chair. Keys? Clipped to my purse. Phone? In my capris pocket. Focus? No. Determination? Hell yes.

  We arrived at the hospital right behind Dab and crew, and all headed straight for the check-in desk, Maise taking the lead.

  “Sherry Mae Cutler came in by ambulance,” she told the thirtysomething ER receptionist. “We have her insurance cards.”

  “You’re family?”

  I stepped closer. “We’re all her family.”

  The woman gave us a skeptical look, then typed on her keyboard. “Mrs. Cutler is being processed in. If you’ll take seats in the waiting area, someone from A
dmitting will be out to get her insurance information.”

  “Can one of us be with her now?” Aster asked.

  “I’m sorry, no.”

  None of us liked her answer, but we trooped to the open waiting area meant to hold waiting patients and family alike. Except we were the only people waiting. Eleanor handed Maise something as they and the men sat in thinly upholstered institutional chairs along the wall. Aster pulled a small spray bottle from her purse and discreetly spritzed over her head.

  “Water-diluted lavender oil,” she said and sprayed each of us.

  Fred scowled but kept silent, his gray eyes angry slits. Dab didn’t look as dapper as usual, but he sat without fidgeting. Eleanor and Maise looked worried. When she finally sat, Aster rested her cupped hands in her lap and closed her eyes. Meditating, I guessed.

  I couldn’t sit still. I picked up a hospital pamphlet that told me Lilyvale Hospital boasted four ER treatment rooms, twenty beds, a variety of surgical services, and affiliation with the University of Arkansas for Medical Sciences South. Residents in the rural training track specialized in family medicine, delivering patient care in the ER, surgery, even obstetrics. Fine, well, and good, but I wanted the best for Sherry. If we had to transfer her to Magnolia or elsewhere, so be it.

  When a middle-aged woman in a poly-blend pantsuit entered the waiting area carrying a clipboard, Maise rose to give her the insurance cards. The woman would’ve photocopied and returned them, but Maise insisted on tagging along. Something useful to do, no doubt, because Dab was suddenly bent on taking vending machine orders. Eleanor went with him, and they returned with bottled water, colas, crackers, and a coffee for me. The strong, acidic brew wouldn’t do my fear-cramped stomach any favors, but sipping it kept my hands busy while my thoughts raced.

  Not one of us said a word about who could have poisoned the chocolates. We didn’t have to speculate. We had a suspect in mind, the only suspect that made any sense. Hellspawn had gone way too far this time.

  • • •

  TIME WARPS IN A WAITING ROOM. IT HAD WHEN I’D been stuck in one after my mother’s stroke, and it did today. Every minute lasted hours. The outside ER doors opened now and then. A deliveryman came and went. A couple with a small boy who sounded like he was coughing up a lung rushed in. The child and parents were whisked through the double doors leading to the ER inner sanctum, but no one came out to speak to us.

  The town grapevine must have been at work, too, because neighbors and friends of Sherry’s came by. Aster, Maise, and Eleanor spoke with them, then kindly sent them away. Desperate to distract myself, I leafed through old sports and entertainment magazines. That didn’t help much. I could only think of Sherry. I couldn’t go home until I was sure she’d be well and safe.

  When the ER whooshed opened again and Shoar strode inside, I catapulted from my seat to hustle over to him, then hesitated when a woman dressed in a uniform similar to the Lilyvale PD’s followed him. Was she a county deputy? He veered toward our group, but the woman stopped in the automatic door, and then Hellspawn herself stormed in. Gripping Trudy’s arm, she marched to the desk with the female cop on her heels.

  “I need help right now,” Hellspawn demanded. “My assistant is sick.”

  The witch tossed her cap of black hair in that odd asymmetrical cut, glared at Eric, and abandoned Trudy at the desk.

  “Detective, I’m telling you, someone tried to poison me.”

  Eric nodded. “So you told me and Deputy Paulson outside, but it’s your assistant who’s ill.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “The candy was meant for me, I’m sure. If Trudy hadn’t taken it, I’d be at death’s door.”

  Trudy’s ashen face lifted and for a moment her eyes blazed. “That’s a lie, Jill. You told me to . . . Uh-oh. Bathroom,” she choked out as she doubled over.

  The ER receptionist pointed down the hall, and the law enforcement lady supported Trudy as she lurched from the counter.

  “You need an evidence bag, Paulson?” Eric called after them.

  Paulson flicked a hand. “Got it covered.”

  Hellspawn? She didn’t so much as bat an eye at Trudy’s distress. Instead she pointed at our group. “These people must be the culprits. If you don’t do something about them this time, I’ll have your badge.”

  I think I actually growled as I shot forward. “Knock it off, you bald-faced-lying b—”

  Eric threw himself in my path so I couldn’t wring her neck.

  “Ms. Elsman,” he said sternly, “Mrs. Cutler was also poisoned this afternoon, and both the Lilyvale Police Department and the Hendrix County Sheriff’s Office are investigating.” He took a deep breath. “Do you still have those chocolates?”

  She shrugged. “How would I know? Trudy had them in her room, the little thief.”

  My mouth gaped open so far, the whole state would’ve fit inside. Before I could gather my wits and give Hellspawn her own good reason to be in the ER, the detective took her arm.

  “I need to collect that candy box, Ms. Elsman, and I need you to come with me immediately. Nixy, I’ll be back later to check on Miz Sherry Mae.”

  Hellspawn gave me a departing sneer that bounced right off of me. Because before they got out the door, a young man wearing a white coat and a stethoscope around his neck walked through the ER doors.

  “Cutler?”

  “Here.”

  We swarmed the poor man.

  “How is she?” Maise barked.

  The guy backed up a step and held up a hand. The hospital ID card on his lanyard read R. HAWTHORNE, RESIDENT. “The ER doctor asked me to come tell you Mrs. Cutler is in serious condition.”

  “Is she conscious?” I whispered.

  “On and off, but she’s disoriented.”

  My breath seized and my vision blurred with tears. I almost missed his next statement.

  “We’ve contacted her primary care physician, and he’ll be by. Either the doctor or I will be out to update you in a while, but it could be a few hours yet. Due to her age, she’ll probably be admitted for further observation.”

  A dozen questions swirled, but the doc-in-training escaped.

  And just then Paulson returned from down the hall with a sack that looked like an airsickness bag. Discreet.

  Bless Aster’s heart, she immediately asked after Trudy.

  “A nurse took her back to the ER directly from the bathroom.” Paulson shook her head. “That’s a strapping gal, but she’s one sick puppy.”

  With that she left. By unspoken consent, I trooped back to the back-breaking chairs with Sherry’s friends.

  “Well,” Eleanor said firmly, “I do believe we’ll want to rotate staying with Sherry tonight.”

  “No,” I jumped in. “I’ll do it.”

  “You think we’re too old, missy?” Fred sapped.

  I blinked at his scowl. “No, but I should be the one who stays.”

  “Why?” Dab asked.

  “Because I didn’t notice she was sick sooner. I didn’t stop her from eating the candy in the first place.”

  Maise snorted. “You don’t get between Sherry Mae and chocolate.”

  “She’s right,” Aster said with a smile. “I didn’t discourage her either, you’ll remember. Sherry will be fine. You’ll see. Now, about Eleanor’s plan.”

  Aster elected to stay with me until after Sherry was moved to a room. Eleanor and Maise would go home with Dab and Fred, but be back later to take the night shift. They claimed they’d had power naps in the afternoon. I didn’t argue, but Dab and Fred were none too happy about being left out of the rotation.

  “It’ll be better for women to be there if she wakes in the night,” Maise said. “You both can come back with Nixy in the morning.”

  After the rest of the crew left, Aster sprayed us both with the lavender oil mixture. She assured me Sherry was strong
and resilient, and that the scent would keep us from being so overwrought. We talked about her garden, about her passion for making herbal remedies, and about my job and my life. Which would be so very empty without Sherry, but I couldn’t dwell on the negative.

  We’d drifted to the subject of music when Eric returned.

  “Where is Hellspawn?” I asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll need to arrest me if I have to share this waiting room with her.”

  He grinned. “She was still at the inn when I left with the candy box.”

  “Oh dear,” Aster said. “Will she come back to pick up Trudy?”

  “No idea. Have you heard anything about Miz Sherry Mae?”

  We told him what little we knew and that we planned to take shifts so someone would be with Sherry all night.

  “You’re not worried about Elsman harming her, are you?”

  I’d considered it, but it sounded groundless when I heard it aloud.

  “We just want her to feel secure,” Aster said. “The men will come with Nixy tomorrow, and we women will get ready for the neighbor meeting.”

  “You’re still holding the meeting?” I asked.

  “We need to unite now more than ever.”

  “How about,” Eric said, “I run and get y’all some dinner?”

  I glanced at the clock on the far wall. Six thirty? In spite of daylight saving time, it felt like midnight.

  “That’s awfully kind, if it won’t take you from your duties.”

  “I need to eat, too, Miz Aster. Now, what will you have?”

  • • •

  WE CONSUMED SOUP AND SANDWICHES IN A blissfully empty ER. After dinner, Shoar asked me more questions about the onset of Sherry’s illness. How long after finishing the pieces of candy did she get sick? General symptoms. Aster chimed in here and there, stressing that a benefactor sent candy after each folk art festival, and the chocolates had never been spoiled, much less poisoned.

  “What about the evidence, Eric? Did you find fingerprints? When will you know what kind of poison this was?”