01 - Playing with Poison (24 page)

“You see!” He peeked at me from between my outstretched fingers. “An octave and one. No doubt about it!”

Okay, so maybe
this
qualified as the most surrealistic moment of my week.

“Are you feeling well, Mr. Harrison?”

“Peter,” he reminded me and let go of my hand. “And yes, actually. I’m feeling better than I have in years.” He threw his own hands into the air and laughed out loud. “Fit as a fiddle, Jessie!”

I blinked again.

“Oh, dear,” he said and calmed himself down a bit. “Have I really been behaving that badly?”

“Umm, you do seem to be in a better mood than usual.”

“It was all the medication!” he exclaimed. And with that my new and improved neighbor offered an extensive list of this, that, and the other prescription drug in his former pill-popping regimen. Trust me, I did not take notes, but I did stay alert for the word Phenobarbital. It never came up.

“I’ve gone cold turkey,” he said proudly. “On four of them, anyway. And Doctor Trotter—he’s my new physician—has cut my dosage of all the rest in half!” Peter clapped his hands. “He told me I was poisoning myself. Can you imagine?”

I think I could. My neighbor’s personality had apparently transformed overnight.

“But enough about me,” he said. “I wanted to ask after Ms. Poppe.”

I cleared my throat. “Oh?”

“I was so relieved when I saw you two in the lobby yesterday, Jessie. I assumed the
Clarence Courier
had been wrong after all. But then I watched Jimmy Beak.” Peter waited until I would look at him. “May I ask what’s going on?”

He cocked his head and smiled, and I had to think fast. Was all this newfound friendliness just an act to trick me? Was the old man some sort of spy for Jimmy Beak?

“Candy’s been released on bail,” I admitted, since he already knew she was home. “But apparently the media have not been informed. We’re hoping to keep it that way, Peter.”

“Oh, absolutely. Whatever Jimmy Beak insists, the public does not need to know.” He sighed dramatically. “I’ve often worried her past transgressions would come back to haunt her.”

I sat up straight. Of course Peter Harrison would know about Candy’s sordid high school career!

“Has Ms. Poppe ever mentioned I worked at her high school?” he asked, and I nodded mutely. “She was a little hellion back then. But I’ve always believed in giving young people a second chance.”

I studied my neighbor. “So you rented her an apartment?” I pointed at his ceiling and towards Candy’s place. “Even though—” I stopped myself.

“Even though I was in such an unpleasant mood?” he helped me out. “I may have been cranky, but I still had my principles. Candy Poppe deserved the benefit of the doubt.”

“She still does,” I said. “She’s innocent.”

“Oh, absolutely. I’m counting on you to keep me posted, Jessie. Will you do that?”

I offered the vaguest of nods and changed the subject. “I understand Karen Sembler is one of your former students?”

“Now there was musical talent!”

“Excuse me?”

“Miss Sembler!” He clapped his hands gleefully. “She played clarinet, she sang, she danced. Oh, my!”

Oh my, indeed. Karen Sembler singing? And dancing?

“She has a lovely soprano voice,” Peter continued. “It was such a shame, really.”

“A shame?” I prompted.

But bless his heart, the new, downright chatty Peter Harrison needed no prompting as he delved on in to Karen’s ancient history. It seems she had auditioned for the lead in her senior class play, but had not gotten the part.

“We did
The Sound of Music
that year,” he said. “Karen Sembler should have been our Maria. She knew it, too.”

“Why wasn’t she?”

“She auditioned perfectly. I was there, of course, being the band director.” He sighed dramatically. “But I wasn’t in charge of casting. And the lady who was? Well, she insisted Maria should be beautiful.”

My face dropped. “And Karen wasn’t.”

Peter nodded. “She was offered only a minor part—one of the children, if I recall. She quit after that.”

“Karen’s a high school drop out?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” he hastened to correct me. “She dropped out of the band, though. And chorus.”

I shook my head in dismay. “You are a font of information, sir.”

“Do forgive my gossiping, Jessie? I suppose I’ve been so unfriendly for so long—”

“You’re making up for lost time,” I helped him out. “Fine with me.” We giggled in unison as I got up to leave.

“Have you ever spoken to Karen about what happened?” I asked at the doorway.

“We never have discussed old times. I suppose my cranky mood hasn’t encouraged confidences.” He glanced across the lobby at her door, behind which who knows what power tool was humming along. “But I’m sure Miss Sembler has moved on,” he added. “After all, it was twenty years ago.”

***

Twenty years ago, I reminded myself as I climbed the stairs to Candy’s. I reached out to knock on her door. “It has nothing to do with Stanley,” I said firmly.

“What has nothing to do with Stanley?” Candy asked.

I swear she had answered before I even knocked. I took in the figure—and I do mean figure—before me. Candy stood in her doorway, resplendent in a pink sequined mini dress.

“You haven’t been out, have you?” I pointed to the silver stilettos adorning her feet.

She gave her shoes a brief glance. “Gosh, no” she said. “But I’m going stir crazy sitting around and hiding all day, so I got dressed up to make me feel better.”

She waved me inside and tottered over to her ridiculous pink couch, which provided a perfect backdrop for her outfit. I shook my head and took a seat.

“Can’t we please go out tonight?” Candy was saying. “Pretty please. Just over to The Stone Fountain, okay? Just for a few minutes?” She held her palms together, appealing to me.

“Jimmy Beak was over there last night.”

“Yeah, but I bet he’ll be somewhere else tonight. He gets bored just working on one story.”

“No,” I said in no uncertain terms.

“I feel like I’m in jail all over again,” she whined.

I folded my arms and glared.

“It’s Friday night and everything,” she tried.

I kept glaring.

“I’ll go alone, then,” she said and gave her head a defiant toss. “Or I’ll get Karen to go with me. Someone has to figure out who killed Stanley. You’ve said so yourself, Jessie. Lots of times.”

Okay, so the girl did have a point. I gave up on glaring and noticed the triumphant smile on Candy’s face.

“If we are actually going to do this,” I said, “I am going to need some Advil.

Candy bounded off the couch and scurried to the phone. “I’ll tell Karen eight o’clock, okay?”

“Lots and lots of Advil,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry, Jessie.” She tapped out Karen’s number with a silver fingernail. “If Jimmy Beak shows up, we can always hide under the pool table. Just like last time!”

***

“Number two!” Louise Urko screeched from her end of the line, and I lamented not getting that Advil from Candy. “Blockbuster, Babe!
Windswept Whispers
is selling like hot cakes. Hotter than hot!”

“Speaking of hot, I have something for you.”

“Fantastical! Please tell me you have finally, finally, finished
Temptation at Twilight
?”

“Almost,” I answered. “Once I get a few details ironed out about King Percival’s past—”

“I thought his name was Ralph?”

“Ralph?” I scowled at Snowflake and attempted to think like Geez Louise. Ah, yes. “You mean Rolfe,” I told her. “He’s the hero, but King Percival’s the father. It seems he’s been harboring some deep, dark secrets for the last twenty years. One of which is his long lost daughter, Alexis Wynsome—”

“What-everrrr,” Louis interrupted. “I know you’ll come up with something fantastical, Jessica. Just be sure there’s plenty of sex scenes. Sex, sex, sex!”

I rolled my eyes and assured my agent I would e-mail her the completed manuscript, replete with assorted sex scenes, sometime the following week.

“While I’m at it, I’d like to send along someone else’s work.” I told Louise about Roslynn Mayweather and
Lush and Tender
. “Roslynn has great potential.” I smiled to myself. “And I think the two of you will really hit it off.”

“Well then, by all means send me
Lush and Tender
! You know I’m always on the lookout for fresh talent.”

I tolerated a few further fantasticals before I reminded Louise it was Friday night and she shouldn’t still be at the office.

“Thanks for reminding me, Jessica! I’m meeting Dee Dee Larkin for drinks. I’m working to land you a segment on her morning program!”

I groaned, but Louise didn’t notice. “What about you,” she asked. “Any plans for the night?”

“I plan on catching a killer and/or growing the mother of all migraines.”

“Fantastical, Babe! Gotta go!”

Chapter 24

“What, no power tools?” I asked Karen as I emerged from the stairwell that evening.

She pointed across the lobby to her door. “They’re charging up, girlfriend. Just let Jimmy Beak try bothering us.”

“You guys,” Candy pleaded. “Will you forget about all that? Let’s have some fun, okay?”

Candy certainly was dressed for fun. As if her pink and silver outfit from earlier weren’t festive enough, she had added an impressive collection of rhinestone jewelry to the ensemble and applied some silver eye shadow for good measure.

Karen, too, had risen to the occasion of a Friday night out after a long and difficult week. She still wore her basic uniform of jeans and work boots, but she had combed her hair, and may have even put on some lipstick.

I admired them both, and sweet Candy complimented me on my own outfit as she teetered her way out the front door. “That sweater is very sexy,” she told me as we crossed Sullivan Street. “I bet Captain Rye would like it.”

I bet Captain Rye would never see it, what with that stupid, stupid, vacation he was taking.

Bless her heart, Karen volunteered for the Jimmy Beak look out detail. Once she announced the coast was clear, we entered The Stone Fountain. The place was packed, but at the sight of Candy the crowd parted and let us pass to our barstools unhindered. I tried to convince myself it was the outfit that had everyone’s attention, not the accused murderer wearing it.

Oh well. At least it was Pink Floyd night. While I enjoyed the ditty about needing no education, Bryce fetched our drinks, and Gina brought over a platter of nachos.

“The food in jail was awful,” Candy said as she helped herself to a huge glob of nachos. “I couldn’t eat hardly anything.”

Bryce watched her shove the chip into her mouth. “Food’s on the house tonight,” he said. “How’s that?”

She mumbled a thanks, and after swallowing, began to describe some sort of turkey-roll thing they served in jail.

Karen and I both dropped the chips we were holding.

“I still don’t get you being in jail at all, Kiddo.” Karen looked around impatiently and turned to me. “Where are the cops, Jess? Why aren’t they in here solving this thing?”

I was busy shrugging when Candy answered for me. “I guess Captain Rye thinks he’s done,” she said quietly and licked some guacamole off her pinky.

“Well that’s ridiculous,” Karen argued. “Just because you got into trouble back when you were sixteen, doesn’t give him the right to pin this thing on you.”

Again she looked at me. “And what’s up with you?” she asked impatiently. “I thought you had some influence with the guy. Can’t you use your sex appeal or something?”

I told her to keep dreaming. “Wilson Rye makes a point of not listening to me.”

“Don’t be mad at Jessie.” Candy actually put down a chip to defend me. “She’s been real helpful, okay?”

“She’s been snooping around in here almost as much as the cops,” Bryce added.

I looked around the cop-free bar and told Karen she had a right to be frustrated. What was Rye doing anyway? And what was I doing for that matter? Sitting around, sipping champagne, apparently just waiting for Jimmy Beak to show up and wreak more havoc.

I ate a nacho for sustenance and stood up. “Send some drinks over to the Dibbles,” I ordered Bryce.

“You go, girl!” Karen cheered me on as I courageously marched away.

***

Jackson gazed forlornly into his empty glass as I approached their booth.

“It’s coming,” I grumbled and took what was becoming my usual seat next to Audrey.

“I see they let Candy out,” she said.

I looked back at the bar, where Candy was talking with John the New Guy, who had helped himself to my barstool. “For the time being,” I said. “The cops still think she did it, though.”

“But how are you feeling, Jessie?” Audrey looked concerned, and for a moment I wondered if she knew my couch had been returned. “How are the crystals working for you?”

“Umm. I just put them out a couple of days ago, right?”

“And you followed my instructions about placement? That’s so very important.” She studied me, waiting for a response, and I assured her I had followed her notes explicitly.

She patted my knee. “Well then, we need to be patient. There’s so much negative energy in your home after Stanley’s death, it will take time to get your chakras back in balance.”

“Sorry, Audrey. But if Captain Rye keeps insisting that Candy did this terrible thing, I think my chakras are doomed forever.”

“Not to mention Candy’s.” Jackson wiggled his empty glass at me.

“But I have told Captain Rye, over and over again, it can’t be Candy,” Audrey insisted. “Ezekiel says that’s just impossible.”

Our conversation stopped momentarily as Gina placed fresh Long Island Iced Teas on the table. “Your tab?” she asked me, and I nodded.

“Jealousy,” Audrey said absently as she watched Gina scoot away. She turned back to me. “I spoke to Ezekiel again this afternoon. It was all crystal clear once he figured out Stanley’s time of birth.”

“How did he do that?”

“Don’t you remember, Jessie?” She seemed a bit impatient with my ignorance. “Ezekiel promised that given enough time, he could trace Stanley’s time of birth by going backwards from his murder. If you know enough about a person’s life, you can figure these things out, you see.”