A Suspicion of Strawberries (Scents of Murder Book 1) (2 page)

Charla settled herself onto the seat as if she were preparing to answer interview questions at a pageant. “Thank you. Now, Andromeda—”

I gritted my teeth again.

“Tell us about this product of yours.” Charla pointed at the bowls.

“Cherries Jubilee is a new product I’ve come up with, and y’all are the first ones to sample it today. I’ve developed scented bath salts, hand soaps, and glycerin soaps, but now I’ve combined hot-processed soap with a moisturizer and sugar base into these dry flakes to make a scrub.” I removed the lid from my own bowl and let the flakes run through my fingers. “What’s nice about this is, you just add water, and you have a wonderfully gentle exfoliant. Plus, it smells like cherry pie, thanks to the essential oils added in the soap- making process.” I grinned.

“Ooh, I can’t wait.” Charla rubbed her hands together. “This is so luxurious. I tried it once before, when Andromeda was making her first batch. She let me be her guinea pig.”

My teeth were getting sore. “Right. She sure was.” And she’d taken her sweet time making up her mind what scent she wanted. Strawberries were out. Allergic, she said, and she didn’t want to risk a breakout before the wedding. Peach was too “nasty,” she claimed. I wouldn’t repeat what she said about cucumber melon.

Melinda snorted. “C’mon, Charla, you’re getting on Ms. Clark’s nerves.” She made me sound like crotchety old Doris Flanders who used to chase kids from her watermelon patch with her shotgun.

“Don’t worry about it.” My face had frozen. I just knew it. “I’ll demonstrate for you.”

I poured a bit of water into my own bowl and continued. “You’ll need to add a few tablespoons of water to the flakes and make a paste. Then take your wooden spatula like this, and stir well. You don’t use your fingers, because the moisturizer starts acting immediately, and we want that process to happen on your face.”

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I, who was a flop at selling Vonna Cosmetics, demonstrating a beauty product to the elite of Greenburg. Who’d have thunk it?
I started spreading the scrub on my face with the spatula, and finally moved the scrub in a circular motion on my cheeks. At least I had good skin from skipping the tanning beds.

The young women removed the plastic covers from their bowls and mimicked my actions. Emily and Melinda had me check their mixes to make sure they’d added the correct amount of water to their flakes.

Charla dipped her wooden spatula into the scrub and swirled the mixture with vigor. “This smells heavenly.” She smiled with her whitened teeth at her bridesmaids and swiped the first generous blob of scrub onto her cheeks. Then she grinned at herself in the small mirror propped up in front of her. She dolloped more scrub on her face.

The women chatted and giggled for a few minutes, and I encouraged them to gently rub the mixture in a circular motion on their skin while the moisturizer worked. Someone took a picture of Charla, her face all goopy.

“Ladies, I’ll be right back.” I smiled at the quintet whose main focus was themselves. “I’ll get some damp rags so you can wipe the scrub from your faces in a few minutes.” Melinda and Tess nodded.

I moved to the small sink in the corner where customers could try soap for themselves and ran a few washcloths under the water. When I returned, I noticed Charla rubbing her neck.

“Remember, your neck skin is a bit sensitive.” I put a fresh smile on.

Charla coughed, then cleared her throat. She frowned and the room seemed to darken. “Oh.” She slathered gobs of the scrub on her cheeks and forehead. “This doesn’t feel right—”

What happened next moved in slow motion, like the time Ben and I went to the drive-in to watch a movie and the film got stuck and dragged, frame by frame.

I viewed each detail around the table as if posed and captured by the photographer in my head.

Charla, knocking the bowl away from her. Cherry scrub, splattering across the table.

Charla, grabbing her face, scratching at swelling cheeks.

Oblivious laughter from Emily and Tess. Mitchalene scrubbing her own face for all she was worth.

Then everything shot into fast-forward mode. Melinda leaped to her feet.

“Charla!” She fell to her knees and scrambled on the floor for Charla’s purse. “She’s having an allergic reaction!” All laughter stopped.

“What?” I grabbed a damp cloth and soaked it in the pitcher of water, then started wiping scrub from Charla’s face. I could barely see her eyes for the swelling.
Jesus, help us!

Melinda dumped the contents of Charla’s purse onto the table. “Where’s her EpiPen? It’s not here. She’s always leaving it at home. Oh, c’mon, Charla, how could you?” The other girls stared with mouths agape.

“Someone call 911—”

I ran for the phone and dialed. “Please, we need an ambulance at 564 Main. A woman’s having a severe allergic reaction—hurry!” I threw the phone down, leaving the dispatcher on the line. He called to me from the phone, but I ran back to Melinda.

She and Emily had dragged Charla to the floor, where her breaths came in ragged gasps.

“Hang on! Hang on! Help’s coming!” Melinda’s wide-eyed gaze darted around the room. “Benadryl? Anyone have Benadryl?” No one did.

I knelt down next to Charla and prayed in whispers, holding her hand that now squeezed mine in a viselike grip. Her body shook in spasms.

“What’s taking so long?” Melinda wailed.

I ran back to the phone and grabbed the receiver. “Where’s the ambulance? She can’t breathe. We don’t have Benadryl or an EpiPen.”

“Ma’am, they’re en route. They’ve just left County Hospital and are about five minutes out. Try to keep her airway clear.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll try.” I flew back to Charla’s side. “She said they’ll be here in about five minutes.”

Charla’s eyelids fluttered, then closed.

“No–o–o–o!” Melinda wailed.

“Tilt her head back.” My basic first-aid training took over. “Try to keep her airway open.” I felt her pulse, racing too quickly for me to count.
Lord, no, please!

“Her pen’s got to be here!” Melinda went back to the table, where the other girls stood, clasping hands to mouths. Mitchalene’s face was streaked with tears.

Charla’s fingers were turning blue, her lips now a deep purple and twice their normal size. Not good. A siren wailed in the distance. Tess ran for the door.

Melinda sank to her knees beside her sister. “Charla. . .no, no, no. . .” She brushed silken blond strands back from Charla’s forehead, now distorted and mottled with red welts.

Charla’s body gave one last great convulsion, her arms flailing like a rag doll’s. I closed my eyes. The siren’s wail intensified. The pulse under my fingertips grew still.

Chapter Two

The ambulance left without using its sirens. I watched it glide away down Main Street. Clusters of people gathered on the sidewalk. A few onlookers squinted from the parking lot of the Antiques Barn across the street, so I reentered my store. Not long now, and news would spread. Melinda sat in Charla’s chair, its red paper flowers crushed. Emily sat next to her, crying. Tess and Mitchalene were busy on their cell phones, presumably trying to secure rides home. I wanted to throw up. I’d skipped breakfast that morning, and the only food I brought with me was a Baggie of my sister Diana’s homemade beef jerky.

As much as Charla had grated on my nerves, I would have never wished anything like this to happen to her, or to anyone. Jerry, for the second time that morning, came to the shop. A rookie officer questioned the bridesmaids, then left. Maggie dusted the register for fingerprints. Like that mattered now.

A heavy stillness hung in the store. At last I realized I still had Cherries Jubilee scrub drying on my face, so I grabbed a washcloth to wipe it off.

Jerry jotted something on his notepad and approached me. “What were y’all doing again?”

“Facial scrub. . .” With my free hand, I picked up the bowl Charla had used. “She was fine until. . .” I closed my eyes.

“Until she put that stuff on her face.” Melinda finished for me. Her glare would have made me flinch if I wasn’t so numb.

“I don’t understand. I
made
this scrub before and Charla used it. Charla told me she was allergic to certain ingredients, and I made sure the scrub contained none of those.”

Emily sniffled, then sat up straighter in her chair. “Charla liked to push it, though. Last week she snuck a bite of my strawberry pie over at Honey’s Place.” I nodded in understanding. Honey’s had the best food in town, and their homemade pies were to die for. Maybe not literally to die for, but. . .I frowned.

Melinda shot Emily a look. “And that stunt you pulled on Valentine’s Day wasn’t even funny. You should be glad she had her EpiPen after eating a chocolate bon-bon filled with strawberry nougat.”

A flush swept over Emily’s face. She glanced from me, to Jerry, then back at Melinda. “She wore my new sweater to that party without asking me. I know, I was being stupid and immature, now that I think about it.” Fresh tears came from Emily’s eyes. “But that’s just it, I didn’t think. . . . Oh, Charla. . .if I could take it back.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. This is just an unfortunate incident.” Jerry turned from them and gestured to me. “I have to submit a sample of that soap to the lab for testing.” He almost sounded apologetic, and I couldn’t blame him.

“Do what you need to do.” I pushed the container into Jerry’s hands. Now wasn’t the time to ask questions, especially with Melinda here.

“Miss Thacker, I’m really sorry.” Jerry glanced at her. “Do you need someone to come get you?”

Melinda shook her head. “Emily’ll drive me to Mom and Dad’s.” A tear rolled down her cheek, now free of scrub. After the initial uproar had quieted, I had passed around the wet washcloths to both soothe the women and let them clean their faces.

Tess moved to give Melinda a hug. “Hey, my sister just pulled up. She’s takin’ me and Mitch home. I’ll call ya later.” Melinda nodded. Without a word to me or a look in my direction, Tess and Mitchalene left the store.

I sat down at the round table. “Melinda—”

“Don’t talk to me right now.” The words stabbed at me. “Em, get me out of here.” They snatched up their purses and left the store.

Jerry was leaning against a glycerin-soap display. “I need to file my report. You gonna be all right?”

I nodded. “I’m going to call Ben.”

“That’s a fine idea.”

With that, he left me alone with the memory of the tragedy fresh in my mind. I sat down and did the next logical thing. I prayed. I didn’t know why this tragedy had happened, but I prayed for Charla’s family. What Melinda must be going through, her parents, and Robert, Charla’s fiancé. The thought of how they must feel made me want to cry. My sister, Diana, once told me I have the gift of empathy, if that’s a gift. Sometimes I don’t like the sensation of wearing someone else’s shoes.

I shifted to safer territory and prayed that God would show me what to do next, that He would protect my business somehow—and my reputation. The petition made me feel shallow. But I’d worked so hard on Tennessee River Soaps. For once, I wanted to succeed in Greenburg.

As I walked around the shop, I prayed, touching the bins of scoop-and-bag-it-yourself bath salts. I picked up one of the molded glycerin soaps. A pale blue background surrounded a taupe swirl that looked like a seashell.
Maybe this is frivolous, Lord, but for once in my life, I believe I’m doing something right.

My cell phone warbled before I got to
amen. Ben!

I punched the button. “Hey, hon, I’m sure glad it’s you.”

“Jerry left a message, said I needed to call you immediately.” Already his baritone voice warmed me to my toes. “I just stopped for lunch. What’s goin’ on?”

Once I explained what had happened, his response was stillness on the other end of the line. Ben borders on being the silent type, but even for him this was unnerving.

“Ben?”

“That’s horrible. How’s her family?”

“Her sister’s taking it hard. Which is understandable.” My throat felt like I’d swallowed the sharp end of a potato chip. “Everything happened so fast.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think it was just that one scrub that killed her. I’ve heard some allergens build up in someone’s system over time, and one little thing could send them into shock.” Ben knew a little something about everything, his brain a virtual sponge.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I listen to a lot of talk radio on the road.”

I wished I could reach through the phone and hug him. “I can’t wait till you get home.”

“Well, I’m on my way back now. I should be in Jackson by ten, and hopefully in Greenburg by midnight.”

“I’ll wait up if you want to call. I. . .I don’t know how well I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” I despised the quaver in my voice. But sometimes I needed a bit of rescuing, no matter how hard I tried to run things.

“You want me to pray with you?”

“Sure.” I listened to Ben’s words pass over me like a breeze, then waft their way to heaven. He was a definite keeper. Charla could have her polished young lawyer who went for manicures and moisturizers, but I’d hang on to my gentle giant with a buzz cut who’s a smidge rough around the edges. Except Charla didn’t have her young lawyer anymore
. Oh, Lord, help her loved ones. And my attitude.