Authors: Cynthia Hickey
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bleary eyed, I sat behind the counter of Gifts from Country Heaven, chin propped in my hand, and watched the world pass outside the window. A group of women, mom included, wearing red hats and purple tee shirts pranced by to their weekly lunch at the diner. Billy yelled out a car window at Lindsey who swept the sidewalk. Normal every day activity that did nothing for my mood. Sleep would help. I sighed. Nothing to do about it. We couldn’t close the store two days in a row.
Mom left me a
mile long list of things to do, most of it sewing. Said it would keep my mind off my troubles. With a deep breath, I grabbed a bolt of cloth and cut off the two yards I would need for throw pillows. Then I grabbed another bolt and cut two more.
“Hey, Marsha!” Marilyn breezed through the door, thankfully minus dogs. “Just dropped in to say goodbye. In case we don’t run into each other
again.”
“Are you going somewhere?” I paused in cutting.
“Hollywood! I’ve saved enough money to enable me to live for three months. If I can’t break into showbiz by then, I’ll start over and head to Broadway.” Ruby lips spread across white teeth.
“I wish you all the luck, Marilyn. I really do.” Despite our having fought over who would be Marilyn Monroe at mom’s party
, I wished her nothing but the best. “You could always try being a vintage pinup model. With your figure, that platinum hair, and your lips, you’d be a cinch.”
“Really?” She put a matching sculptured nail to her mouth. “I hadn’t thought of that. Might be a way to make money
if I don’t break into show biz right away.” She winked. “Of course, a sugar daddy wouldn’t help.”
I grimaced. “There’s always that option, I guess.”
“Well, bye!” She bounced back out the door.
Th
e newspaper boy banged the newspaper against the window, startling me from my thoughts. Lindsey snatched the paper from the sidewalk and brought it in. “Guess what’s on the front page!” She slapped it on the counter.
Wonderful. There I sat
with soda in hand on the curb of The Corner Store. The cameraman must have snapped the shot before I stuck my hand over my face.
“We’re making the paper a lot.” Lindsey grinned. “With me running the car through the diner and you getting held up
, we’re like celebrities!”
“I’d like to be in the paper because we found out who the thief is
, not because we did something stupid or almost got killed.”
“Something is better than nothing.
It’s probably good for business.” Lindsey plopped in a rocker. “Melvin drove by with a brand new riding lawnmower. Where do you think he got the money? His was stolen, right?”
Good question. “Maybe he lowered his principles and took out a loan.” Or maybe he stole it before peeking in my window last night. And what compromises did Marilyn make? Bruce did say it could’ve been a woman wearing men’s shoes. I should’ve looked at her feet.
She stood several inches taller than me. It might work. I wondered whether Bruce would be interested in my deductions.
“I’m heading to the diner
to get something to drink.” Lindsey pushed to her feet. “Do you want something?”
“A
diet soda would be great.”
Stephanie pushed past as Lindsey headed out the door. The woman smiled
, without revealing her teeth, and stared at me.
“Can I help you?”
“I want to buy that rose-colored quilt.”
My eyes widened. “It’s three hundred dollars.”
She smirked. “I know how much it is.” Stephanie leaned on the counter. “I have enough money now to go and fetch Rosalea. I’m leaving this weekend.”
“Don’t you have to wait for paperwork or something?” I moved to get the quilt then wrapped it in tissue paper.
“Those papers are being processed as we speak.” She dug in her purse for her checkbook. “And further more, the paperwork on my new daughter has been in the works for a very long time. I just needed the money for the legal side of it.”
“How old is the girl now? Ten?”
Stephanie giggled. “You are such a kidder. It didn’t take
that
long. She’s almost three. Mark is ecstatic. We’re decorating her room this week. That’s why I need the quilt. Nothing but the best for my daughter.”
I glanced at her feet. “What size shoe do you wear?”
“A ten, why?”
“Just wondering.” I smiled up at her. “I’m happy for you, Stephanie. Really. You’ve worked hard to become a mother.”
“I’d do anything.” She wrote the check, handed it to me and watched while I printed her receipt.
“Let me know if we can get anything else for you.”
“Oh, I will.” She wrapped her arms around the quilt and left.
Huh. All three of my suspects suddenly had the money they needed. Very suspicious to me. I picked up the phone and dialed Bruce’s number.
“What now?”
Drat that caller ID.
“That’s not a very nice way to answer the phone. Especially at work.” I paced behind the counter. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“Ever the comedian. I had several names on my suspect list –”
“I thought I told you to stay out of this investigation.”
“You can’t stop somebody from writing down names. Anyway, I had Melvin Brown, Kyle Anderson, Marilyn Olsen, Billy Butler, and Stephanie Jackson. Kyle is dead, and Billy isn’t guilty, so that leaves three. And guess which three suddenly have the money they’ve been needing?” Take that, Bruce.
“Don’t forget Lindsey, and what makes you think Billy isn’t guilty?”
“Come on! My daughter did nothing wrong, and you know it. You said so yourself. Can you honestly tell me you can imagine that boy holding up a convenience store?”
“Maybe the crimes aren’t related.”
Why did he have to be so dense? Of course the crimes were related. I’d bet my life on it. Most likely would. “Okay, fine. Disregard my suspicions. I wish you all the luck on solving the case.”
“Marsha, look—”
I hung up on him. Solving the case was left up to me, Marsha Calloway Steele, who had no idea what to do next. The pile of cut fabric beckoned. The back door to the shop opened, and I heard Mom humming as she made a pot of coffee. Always the first thing on her list when she came to work. I needed something to show for the hour I’d been here. Scooting back behind the sewing machine, I pretended to be engrossed in my work.
My mind whirred as fast as the needle. Melvin, Marilyn, or Stephanie
? All wanted something desperately. Money. And lots of it. How much did it cost to live in Hollywood for three months? Adopt a child? Start a landscape business? Quite a bit, I was sure.
Melvin could have faked his robbery. So could Stephanie. I still couldn’t figure out the store being robbed with Lindsey and me not being the wiser. It would all click eventually. Then I remembered Sharon and her missing necklace.
There’d been a lapse of time with her too. She knew she’d seen Lindsey, then nothing for how long? Forty-five minutes to an hour? Could whatever have caused her forgetfulness contribute to her death?
I dialed Bruce again. “Did they do an autopsy on Sharon Weiss?”
“What?”
“I need to know if she had anything unusual in her system.”
“She died from hitting her head. Accidental death. End of story. Leave it alone or I’m calling Duane.” Click.
He wouldn’t dare!
Bruce really bugged me. Threatening to call my boyfriend. What a low blow. There’d been tension between me and Bruce since I turned him down for a date in high school. Talk about holding grudges.
“Mom,” I called out as I grabbed my purse. “I’ve got to run home for a few minutes.”
“No problem. I left something for you.”
“Thanks!” I dashed for my car and sped home. After unlocking the door to the former guesthouse, I knelt beside my father’s medical books. Disorientation, forgetfulness, a waking sleep
; I’d find something relative inside those pages. If not, I’d check the internet. One way or another, I’d have some answers before I quit for the day.
“Hey, Marsha.” Duane stood in the doorway. “I’ve got chocolate chip cookies.”
“You baked?”
“No, I found them sitting on the porch.”
“Let me take them. Mom said she left something for me.” I stood on tip toes to give him a kiss and set the cookies on the coffee table. “Help yourself. I’ve got something to look up.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“What are you looking for?” Duane sat in the one arm chair I owned with a glass of milk in one of his hands and the plate of cookies on the end table beside him.
I sat cross-legged on the floor with my father’s journals spread out in front of me. “A drug that makes people forget
things for a while.”
Duane frowned and leaned forward. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?
Drugs are never the answer.”
“Nothing’s bothering me
, silly. It has to do with the case.” I flipped open the first book. “With myself and Lindsey, money was stolen from the store while we were there, yet neither of us remember a thing. Then, if you recall, I stumbled home afterward with drunk-like symptoms.”
“I remember.” He winked. “I
wanted to carry you to your room.” Duane ate a cookie then downed some milk.
“Mom
would have had a coronary.” I giggled.
“Do you want me to help you look?”
I shook my head. “Go ahead and eat. I’m not sure what I’m looking for anyway. You can help when you’re finished.”
Half an hour later
, I found what I’d been looking for. “Duane, listen to this. I think this might be it. I won’t read it word for word, just the interesting parts. There’s a lot of medical mumbo-jumbo, but here goes. Versed, or Midazoliam, is a clear, red or purplish cherry-flavored syrup. It’s used for relaxing someone before a surgery. Hey, they sometimes use it to relax prisoners who are about to be executed.” I ran my finger down the page. “Listen, this is interesting.
“Symptoms include loss of short term memory, ‘waking up’ again and again,
but not remembering what happened a minute before. Oh, don’t take it if you’re doing opiates. Not a good thing. Some people wake up angry, but that’s rare. You have total amnesia while under the influence. Do you think dentists use it? Would sure make having your teeth drilled easier to suffer through. The drug makes you groggy and disoriented. I bet that’s what happened to Sharon Weiss. She fell and hit her head. That would make the suspect a murderer times two.” I glanced up. “Duane?”
His eyes had a glazed effect
, and he grinned with one side of his mouth. “Why are you wearing a hat?”
“I’m not.” I put a hand to my head. “I had my hair cut, remember?”
“Oh, yeah. Why are you wearing a hat?” His words slurred and the glass of milk shattered to the floor.
I leaped to my feet. The book fell with a thud to the floor
. “Duane!” I shook him. His head lolled back and forth as he tried to focus his gaze on me.
“You’re beautiful. What’s your name?”
The plate of cookies on the end table screamed at me. It all suddenly fell into place. That’s how the suspect administered the drug. “How many cookies did you eat?”
“About a million.”
“Good grief.” I dashed for the phone and called nine-one-one. Bags of groceries sat on the kitchen counter. That’s what Mom had dropped off; not the cookies. I almost dropped the phone. I’d eaten cookies at the store. So had Lindsey, and Sharon had rattled on about me sending her cookies that tasted funny. Oh, Lord, help us.
I carried the phone with me to the living room. I should have noted how many cookies had been on the plate. Eight sat there now. Could
it be safe to say a dozen?
“Hey
, beautiful. What’s your name?”
“
It’s Marsha.” Oh, Lord, he doesn’t know me! “The ambulance is on its way. It’ll take ten minutes. Hold on, sweetheart.”
“That’s my name?
Funny name for a guy.” Duane tried to stand and wobbled.
I dropped the phone and
propped a shoulder beneath his arm. Heavy! With knees buckling, I eased him back into the chair. “You stay there.”
“Okay.” He grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap.
His hands roamed in places they shouldn’t. Wrestling him was like fighting an octopus. “Mars Bar, I love you.” His eyes closed, and his head fell against the back of the chair
I felt for a pulse. Steady and strong. When I got my hands on whoever was poisoning the residents of
this town, I’d make sure I had my Tazer ready, and I’d zap them more then once. I hadn’t finished reading about Versed, but I was pretty sure if Duane was allergic to it he’d have stopped breathing by now. Worst case scenario; he’d wake up with a great big headache.
By sheer willpower I held myself together and avoided
the now awake but groggy Duane’s groping hands until the paramedics arrived. They nodded as I explained my suspicions and said they’d pass the information on to the doctors. They could determine with a blood test whether Duane had the drug, Versed, in his system. Fortunately, an antidote existed.
As they wheeled my beloved out on a gurney, I grabbed my purse, made sure my cell phone was inside, locked the front door, then dashed out to my car. I’d call Bruce on the way. With one hand, I started the ignition and with the other punched in his number.
“Not again.”
“Hush. This is important. Duane’s being taken to the hospital. I think he ate cookies laced with Versed. I also think that’s what happened to me and Lindsey. The leftover cookies are in my house. Get the spare key from
the flower pot beside the door.”
“Whoa, slow down.”
“I can’t talk anymore, Bruce. Didn’t you hear me? The ambulance is taking Duane to the hospital!”
“Okay. I’ll get the cookies from your house
, drop them at the station, then meet you there.”
I phoned Mom. “I won’t be back at work. The paramedics are taking Duane to the hospital.” Tears clogged my throat. “He ate poison cookies.”
“Cookies! Where’d he get them?”
“
He said someone left them on the front porch.”
“Why would you let him eat something you had no idea where it came from?”
“I thought you left them.”
“I wouldn’t give him poison cookies!
Gracious, Marsha. The groceries I left are clean.”
“I didn’t . . .oh, never mind. Can you close the store and come to the hospital?” A sob ripped from my throat. “I need you.”
“I’ll beat you there, sweetie.”
What if something happened to Duane? What if I was wrong about him having an allergic reaction?
Maybe it took longer than a few minutes for the body to react. I coaxed the Prius to a faster speed.
Life without him would be unbearable. Robert’s death had been tragic enough. I’d loved him in my own way, but not the soul-encompassing, heart-wrenching love I felt for his brother Duane. The tears flowed unchecked, running down my cheeks and soaking the neckline of the tee shirt I wore under my faithful overalls.
The thirteen miles to the county hospital might as well have been a hundred. The road stretched before me like an unending asphalt ribbon. Maybe I could’ve asked Bruce for a police escort. I pressed harder on the gas.
Red and blue lights flashed in my rearview mirror. I contemplated speeding ahead and suffer the consequences later
, but couldn’t stomach one more thing going wrong. Gravel crunched as I pulled to the shoulder of the road.
I watched as the officer marched to my window, one hand on the weapon at his belt.
“Ma’am, do you know how fast you were going?”
“About seventy-five.”
He stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Are you all right? You’ve been crying and that, coupled with speeding, is not a good combination.”
“My boyfriend was just taken to the hospital.” I wiped my eyes on my sleeve. “Can you call Bruce Barnett? He should be enroute as we speak.”
“Why should I call him?”
“Please. I’m in a hurry
, and I’ve already explained everything to him.” My voice rose to near hysteria level.
“Settle down. I’ll make the call.” He stepped away and unclipped a phone from his belt. His gaze stayed on me as he spoke. “Roger. Follow me, ma’am.”
The officer roared away with me hot on his tail. Bless you, Bruce. I’d try not to think ill of him ever again.
Mom, Leroy, and Lindsey waited in the parking lot. “Cool, mom. An escort!”
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Mom wrapped her arms around me after I slid from the car. “They’ve taken Duane inside. The doctor said to wait in the visitor’s room, and he’ll let us know when he has news.”
I nodded and swallowed against the fresh threat of tears. As we turned to leave, I caught a glimpse of the side of my car where Melvin had hit it with his lawnmower. A thin scratch ran near the rear bumper. Light blue paint flashed like a beacon.
Lunging into the front seat, I withdrew the envelope containing the title and opened it. A blank sheet of paper fell out. Why hadn’t I checked sooner?
I knew the name of
our thief and murderer.