A Crime of Poison Read online

  “You’ll be happy to know that all four of my rooms are rented to lovely families. Not a troublemaker in sight.”

  “Excellent, Lorna!” After some unfortunate incidents with—shall I say—some unruly guests, she had finally installed some much-needed security cameras. Clark didn’t like it, but I’m not sure he liked anything but golf these days. The cameras might never be crucial again, but better safe than sorry, right?

  “So what brings you here? If you’re checking on how business is doing, it’s booming in spite of the bake sale. I made omelets this morning until I was clucking. At one point, we had a line out the door.”

  “Lorna, that’s fantastic.”

  “It is. Clark didn’t once complain about us hiring extra help for the weekend, and Lamar, Jasmine’s boyfriend, was a godsend.” She paused and beamed a smile. “And get this. I caught Clark humming while he loaded the dishwasher.”

  “Humming?”

  “He didn’t even complain when I sent him to the store for more provisions. Between the omelets for breakfast and the quiches I made for lunch, we ran out of eggs.”

  When she paused for a breath, I blurted, “How about pie? Judy said you might still have some.”

  She tilted her head. “You have a hankering?”

  “Not me. Mrs. Gilroy. She has an unbelievable sweet tooth.”

  Lorna looked momentarily startled, then smiled. “Now that you mention it, I remember she used to come in here when I was a girl and my parents ran the café. That woman loved my mother’s chocolate meringue pie with graham cracker crust.”

  “I don’t suppose you have that, do you?”

  “Sorry, but I do have one slice of apple pecan. I made it in honor of Halloween and the other holidays coming soon, but the plain apple and cherry pies were more popular today. Wait here, and I’ll box it for you.”

  I plopped on a bar stool with a sigh. Lorna could talk about as fast as anyone I knew, and sometimes just listening was enough exercise for an entire day. Not that Lorna gossiped. She shared news her customers imparted. Granted, some news was on the titillating side, but she was never catty.

  She bustled back from the kitchen with a paper take-out sack, the Lilies Café logo printed on the front.

  “Here you go, all boxed up, and I added the half can of whipped cream I had left over. Clark will get more, and I’m making cream pies for tomorrow, so there won’t be as much call for this. I doubt Mrs. Gilroy will remember me, but give her my best.”

  “Done,” I said, and paid for the pie, though Lorna didn’t want to charge me.

  Not wanting the canned whipped cream to get warm, I hoofed it back to the emporium again, put the sack in the dorm-sized fridge we kept in the tiny kitchenette, and went to see how our sales were going for the day.

  At the festivals held on the farmhouse grounds, Sherry, Aster, and Eleanor had routinely sold two-thirds to three-fourths of their stock. And those were one-day events. Granted, we wanted our vendors to do a brisk business all day long, but I wanted us to do our share, too. The Silver Six might be family and part owners of the emporium, but I insisted they be paid something for each of their items we sold. We paid the other artisans. Only fair to pay the Silver Six.

  Fred and Dab weren’t in the store, but one glance at the depleted shelves and display tables, and I didn’t have to hope the Six had done well. I could see they had.

  “Y’all will have to work double time to make new products,” I said.

  Eleanor gave me her gentle smile. “I do believe you’re correct, Nixy.”

  “It was wonderful,” Aster said. “Why, we had to rotate two at a time to wolf down our lunches.”

  Kathy was wide-eyed. “I had no idea the store would be so busy.”

  Sherry chuckled. “And here you thought we hired you to make Jasmine happy.”

  “You earned your stripes today,” Maise declared.

  “Are Dab and Fred in the back?” I asked.

  Sherry shook her head. “Nope. They sold out of the Razorback metal-art pieces, so they went out to Big George’s hardware store for supplies.”

  “Sold out of the cannons, too,” Maise put in.

  “So they’re aiming to make more tonight,” Aster said.

  I stared. “They aren’t watching football?”

  Eleanor laughed. “I do believe your innocent suggestion to them back in May has created two metal-art monsters.”

  “But it’s keeping them even younger,” Sherry said. “It’s good to see.”

  Maise clapped her hands. “Ladies, we still have to get this place shipshape for tomorrow morning. Speaking of which, Nixy, it’s almost five. You need to make another run through the festival. See how things went today for everyone else.”

  Since I couldn’t execute a salute that met Maise’s standards, I simply said, “Aye-aye, ma’am. I’m gone.”

  • • •

  The artisans were pleased with their day’s sales and looked for many browsers to return and buy. They told me they were tired but psyched for Sunday.

  Cornell Lewis was in the process of shutting down Gone to the Dogs. Dex was there somewhere. I heard him shouting orders but didn’t see him. Good deal.

  I also spotted Lee Durley with a brown-haired woman who appeared to be talking a mile a minute. Both held multiple bags, and I silently thanked Lee’s sister for spending money at the festival. They crossed the street and continued down Magnolia, and I quickly lost sight of them.

  Back at the emporium, I declined dining with the Silver Six, begging off because I was tired and I had the leftovers Maise had sent home with me for the past two evenings. Since I was having dinner with Eric on Sunday night, I wanted to eat all the food I had in the fridge before it went to waste.

  I did, however, take Bernice her desserts an hour later.

  When the door didn’t fly open, I frowned. Was she okay? I heard noise inside. It sounded like a commercial on TV. Maybe she hadn’t heard me arrive. I knocked.

  “Go away, Sissy. I’m watching a show.”

  If she was busy watching TV, she was fine. “Okay,” I hollered. “I’ll just leave your cake and pie on the porch.”

  I counted to three before I heard her little feet hit the floorboards. In another count of three, she opened the door and jerked me inside. Since I hadn’t stopped by the farmhouse for my handy-dandy food delivery basket, I had the forethought to hold the goodies in a death grip.

  “Hurry up and put those in the kitchen,” she snapped. “I’ve got the game paused, but I want to get back to it.”

  “Game? Are you watching college football?”

  “Soccer,” she said absently as she eyed the goodies and cackled with glee.

  “You watch soccer?”

  “Men in shorts and tight shirts? A’course I watch soccer. Besides, once the game starts, they don’t show commercials except at halftime. I don’t get bored. Halftime is almost over, so scoot.”

  I stood on the porch a moment after she kicked me out. I knew my mouth was hanging open, but I couldn’t help it. Soccer? Bernice? Good grief, she must have more than regular cable TV. She must have a special sports package. Who’da thunk?

  The woman really was a puzzlement.

  • • •

  At my apartment, I stayed awake long enough to eat while I watched a rerun of The Big Bang Theory. Yes, I’d finally broken down and bought a TV when Huff’s Fine Furniture ran a Fourth of July sale. Eric and I had been seeing just enough of each other that I didn’t have all that much time to get attached to any particular programs, but I did watch NCIS so I could converse about it with Bernice, the Mark Harmon nut. I accidentally found that Amber and T.C. liked Animal Planet and had begun leaving it on when Eric and I went out.

  The fur babies had dined on their regular kibble, of course, but I gave them a few bites of grilled chicken breast and one
morsel of macaroni and cheese. That finished off my leftovers from two days ago. And, yes, I know I wasn’t supposed to feed them people food, but at least I didn’t conveniently drop French fries on the floor for them like Eric did.

  After showering, I donned a sleep shirt with a big bluebonnet bouquet on the front and curled up in bed with the book I was reading. The romantic comedy with its snappy dialogue reminded me of the old screwball comedies I’d watched with a guy I’d dated. We’d quickly become just pals, but I’d enjoyed the movies he’d introduced me to.

  Eric called before I finished the chapter.

  “Hey, Nixy, how was day one of the festival? Any more problems?”

  “No, and the vendors were happy.”

  “That’s most of the battle, isn’t it?”

  “Yep. How did your day go?”

  “I took Charlene through some old cases, and the one open robbery case we have.”

  “She’ll be bored in a month.”

  “Nah. I’ll talk you into taking a little trip with me and leave the law enforcement to her for a few days. Maybe something exciting will happen while we’re gone.”

  My mouth suddenly went dry. Was he suggesting that—as Bernice would say—we kick our relationship up a notch? Except for the one real romance I’d had in grad school, my dating forays that might have promised sizzle had fizzled.

  “Nixy, are you there?”

  “I’m here,” I choked out, and went for humor. “Are you asking me to run away with you, Mr. Shoar?”

  “More like meander up to Eureka Springs.”

  “Any special reason why that spot?”

  I could picture him shrugging. “It’s historic and quaint, and the fall color in the hills is beautiful.”

  “That’s what Sherry and the gang told me,” I said softly.

  “A buddy from college has opened some cabins up on Beaver Lake, and I’d like to support his business.”

  I wondered if that meant he could get a good rate on the cabins, but I wasn’t offended. Nothing wrong with saving money. I knew that firsthand.

  “Are you thinking about it?”

  “You know I am, but it’s a big step.”

  “The sex or the trip?”

  “Both, but mainly the trip. What if I snore?”

  He snorted a laugh. “Nixy, you’re overthinking this. Get some sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow at some point, I’m sure.”

  We disconnected, but I forgot about reading my book. Instead I gazed into the alert faces of my critters. “Am I ready for this?”

  Amber waggled her tan eyebrows. T.C. kneaded her paws on my leg.

  I wondered if their antics translated to mean Whatever you want, human, or simply Whatever.

  • • •

  Sunday morning, I bounced out of bed wearing a big grin and, eventually, a pair of royal-blue cropped pants and a trusty Handcraft Emporium tee. The grin was, of course, because I was still thinking about Eric’s phone call.

  I carried my socks and tennis shoes to the living room. I’d put them on when I was ready to walk Amber and T.C. and then get on with my day. The critters waited patiently while I poured their kibble and refreshed their water bowls. I sat at the kitchen counter eating a piece of toast and drinking hot tea. I’d be downing icy water the rest of the day because, though the weather would be nice, it was likely to be warmer than yesterday.

  While I ate, I mentally went through my closet for date clothes. Lilyvale was a great small town but wasn’t overflowing with fine restaurants or swanky nightlife spots. My gussy-up-for-gallery-opening clothes had pretty much hung in the closet until I’d asked Eleanor for a fashion consultation. Between us, we’d reimagined and re-paired my suit pieces. Now I had combinations that worked for every kind of event I might attend in Lilyvale . . . and beyond.

  The only question was, how sexy did I want to look for my dinner date with Eric? I did have a flirty black skirt to wear with a black lacy camisole and a red jacket, the red for that touch of zing. I’d even kept three pairs of Houston work heels in basic dark colors for special occasions. Considering that Eric had asked me to take a trip with him, dinner tonight should count as very special. I just hoped I could still walk in the darned shoes. I’d gone barefoot or worn sandals, ballet flats, or my trusty tennies for months now.

  My dinner date duds decided, I took T.C. and Amber downstairs and clipped on their leashes, and off we went. Today Amber was less intent on sniffing every blade of grass for signs of other dogs, or of squirrels, rabbits, or other animals she loved to track. Today she pranced along the sidewalk, and as she always did, T.C. stayed right with her.

  We were headed home on Lee Street when Amber suddenly stopped in her tracks, nose high and twitching as she smelled the air. T.C.’s ears perked and she stared intensely in the direction Amber sniffed. Then I heard shouts and curses coming from the square. What the heck?

  I sprinted toward the ruckus, my critters leading the way to a crowd of vendors in a loose circle near Gone to the Dogs. With their attention riveted on whatever was happening, and their cell phones up and capturing the moment, I squeezed my way through. I arrived just in time to see Cornell Lewis attempting to rise from the pavement, Dex Hamlin standing over him. When Cornell was nearly on his feet, Horrible Hamlin drove a beefy fist into the man’s jaw. This time Cornell didn’t get up.

  Amber rumbled a fierce growl, T.C. hissed like a deranged steam valve, and, without thinking, I charged into the fray.

  Chapter Six

  “Hamlin!” I yelled. “What the devil do you think you’re doing brawling in public, and with our invited artists having to see this?”

  “And on a Sunday,” a woman called out.

  He spun toward me, fists ready to go another round. “I was invited to be a vendor here, too, Miss Nose-in-the-Air.”

  “No, you were not,” I said. “You weaseled your way into the event, and guess what? You can slither right on out.”

  Hamlin took a threatening step, and Amber lunged to the end of her leash in a storm of barking. T.C. puffed up to twice her size, danced sideways toward him, and yeowled.

  “You keep them animals away from me,” the brute warned. I’d never seen an angrier, uglier expression on anyone, and I’d faced a couple of murderers.

  “My pets aren’t a threat to you, but the police are.” I waved at the artists around us. “I’m sure someone has called them.”

  “We did!” a male voice shouted from the crowd.

  I didn’t turn around. I didn’t take my eyes off Hamlin’s reddening face.

  “We also took photos,” another called.

  “And video!” a female sang out. “That ought to cook your goose in court.”

  Hamlin scanned the crowd as if he’d spot the speaker. Fat chance. Especially when I spied the cavalry riding our way from behind Hamlin.

  Officer Doug Bryant’s long stride ate up the distance fast. At six feet and two hundred pounds of solid muscle, Officer Bryant was an imposing guy. Especially in full uniform. Most especially with one hand resting on the butt of his gun.

  “What’s going on, Nixy?” he asked. Yes, he knew me well enough to call me by my nickname. We’d been on the same volleyball team during a summer police picnic.

  “I’ll tell you—” Hamlin began, but fell silent when Bryant held up a hand and gave him the laser cop stare.

  “Are you Ms. Nix?” Bryant growled. “You are not. I’ll get to you in a minute. Nixy?”

  I’d moved aside with my fur babies and shortened their leashes so that they sat at my feet.

  “I didn’t see the whole incident,” I told him in all honesty. “You’ll need to ask these folks to get the bigger picture.”

  “Noted,” Bryant said. “What did you personally witness?”

  “I heard shouting, saw the crowd, and ran over in time to see Hamlin punch Cornell Le
wis over there.”

  I waved a hand to the man a few yards away, still on the ground but regaining consciousness. A fiftyish woman in a denim shorts outfit knelt beside Cornell. I realized it was Mikki Michaels, one of our textile artists who specialized in batik pieces, but who’d worked as an ER triage nurse.

  “This man didn’t just hit the other one,” one of the men in the back of the crowd said. I turned, but couldn’t see who it was. “He was beating him.”

  Mags Deets stepped forward. “I videoed the whole thing.”

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Bryant replied. “We may want to see that.”

  “There ain’t nothing to see,” Hamlin said. “I had a disagreement with my employee.”

  “Over what?” Bryant asked.

  “I heard,” he said, staring at me, “that he gave away hot dogs yesterday. To a little kid and this chick’s pets. I can’t make no money that way, can I?”

  “A simple warning not to do it again should’ve sufficed,” I snapped.

  “Ain’t your business how I discipline my help, now, is it?” He punctuated that remark by spitting in the street, the mess landing not far from my shoes.

  Officer Bryant was not amused. “That’s enough, Hamlin. Turn around. I’m taking you to the station.”

  “What for?” Hamlin cried, backpedaling a few steps.

  “Assault, and you’re disturbing the peace. And my patience. Now turn around before I add resisting arrest to the charge.”

  Hamlin complied but spouted a litany of obscenities as he was cuffed and Mirandized.

  Before Bryant led Hamlin away, he paused and jerked his chin at the crowd. “Nixy, take care of that.”

  I got the message. He wanted me to disperse the onlookers.

  “Everyone, I’m so sorry this happened, but we have a wonderful last day of the festival waiting, and I’m sure you want to get your booths ready to open.”

  “What about our evidence?” Mags asked, waggling her phone.

  “If you have photos or videos, let me know when I make my first rounds. I’ll give your names to the police.”

  “Right-o,” a voice said from the back, and with that the artists moved off, chattering among themselves.