Prose & Poison, page 14
part #1 of Cafe Prose Mystery Series
“It sounds so magical,” Amanda sighed and held her teacup close to her chest.
My voice turned serious. “And then everything went downhill.”
“What do you mean?” Piper asked.
Then I rehashed the rest of the evening. From accusing Peter of murder (whoops), a drunken Charlotte turning up at Mom’s house (drama), to the two-million-dollar inheritance (double drama), to the note of warning Lizzy had left in my apartment (triple drama).
Amanda gasped. “Um … you need to tell the police about that.”
“Yeah,” Piper agreed. “That’s some major breaking and entering.”
I rolled my eyes. “I know. But I really think Lizzy is harmless. She’s trying to keep me away from Patrick. I’m sure of it.”
Amanda tapped the side of her cup in thought. “Maybe it is simply jealousy. Or …” she paused for effect and the whites of her eyes showed. “Maybe she was warning you away from the Harold Ellerton case.”
Piper inhaled sharply. “That’s a great point.”
“I don’t know, guys,” I cried. “Lizzy’s super witchy, but I don’t think she’d do something like that.”
Piper pushed the leaves around her cup. “You should show the note to Kevin, explain to him why you believe Lizzy left it.”
“Yes,” Amanda chimed in. “We were witnesses to her saying those exact words in the coffeeshop.”
Piper nodded her head firmly. “Right. And maybe it’s not connected, but at least you would have told Kevin about it.”
I bit the side of my lip. “Or maybe I should just talk to Lizzy myself?” I offered.
“But what if she’s the murderer and she kills you next?” Piper spoke seriously. “We know she’s severely in debt, about to marry Patrick, which is reason enough to want Harold Ellerton dead.”
Valid point.
Amanda’s eyes grew wide. “And if she killed Harold, then Patrick’s probably next, and then Patrick’s share of the estate would be all hers.”
“That is some crazy speculating,” I admitted. “But logical.” As Patrick’s fiancé, Lizzy had a stake in Harold’s estate. Motive. “And I don’t think she has been questioned.”
“Plus!” Piper all but screamed. “Do you remember when Lizzy was accused of pushing Ellie Masterson down the football bleachers junior year?”
I gasped. “That’s right! Lizzy was next in line for head cheerleader and got the position after Ellie broke her arm,” I explained to Amanda.
“Mm hmm,” Piper muttered, took the last sip of her tea, and stood. “That girl has a major mean streak in her.”
“Well,” Amanda huffed in concern, “then this is something Chief Homestead definitely needs to hear.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “I’ll talk to him this afternoon.”
“Oh, Talbot.” Piper exhaled. “It’s almost like drama follows you.”
“Hey!” I spat. “I resent that.” I got to my feet and pushed out my chest. “I’ll have you know that there wasn’t drama like this when I lived in D.C.”
Piper laughed and flicked me with the towel draped on her shoulder. “And in D.C. you were an old spinster who worked twenty-four, seven.”
I pursed my lips. “Not cool! I had a great, albeit small, social life,” I said. “Two boyfriends, even,” I emphasized, holding two fingers in front of her face.
Amanda joined us behind the bar and sat her teacup in the sink. “So the drama only follows you to Willow Creek then?”
I quickly ran the events of the last five days in my head and fake cried. “It appears so.”
Chapter 14
The foot traffic at Café Prose the rest of the day was slow, so Piper closed the shop early for a much-needed afternoon off to wedding plan. That meant, at two o’clock that afternoon I pedaled to the police department with Lizzy’s note tucked into my purse which sat in the plastic braided basket in front of me. “You better believe me this time,” I muttered to myself, the details Piper, Amanda, and I pieced together taking shape in my head.
I marched through the police department doors and made a stop at Mom’s desk. “Well?” I asked.
Mom glanced around the room, making sure nobody paid attention. “Kevin talked to me this morning and I told him everything.”
“And what did he say?”
Mom laughed. “Kevin’s more concerned I’ll quit and leave him treading water just to keep up with all the paperwork. I guess he can’t afford to lose me to my millions of dollars.”
“For a man who accused me of being selfish, Kevin has some work to do himself.”
Mom winced. “He accused you of being selfish?”
I flicked a wrist at her. “Another time.” I frowned. “The drama last night didn’t end after Peter and I left your house.” I slid the note across her desk.
Her eyes shot open. “Where did you get this?” she asked, visibly disturbed.
“It was on my nightstand when I got to my apartment last night. And my door was aja—.”
“This paper!” she exclaimed, examining it closer. “This came from a notepad I gave Harold as a Christmas present.” At the top of the sheet, a mallard duck flew across a reed-filled lake. “I had it specially made for Harold.” She pushed a hand toward me and the animal-lover in her spoke. “Harold and his stupid water fowl hunting hobbies …”
“The notepad, Mom,” I reminded her.
“Yes,” she said. “As far as I knew, it sat on the corner of his desk.” Mom’s eyes widened in realization.
“Mom!” I gasped. “You know what this means.”
“We need to show this to Kevin. Now!”
Mom and I both rushed into Kevin’s office as he spoke in hushed tones with Officer Pinker. He rolled his eyes as soon as I entered the room. “Any more wild theories, Talbot?” Kevin obviously forgot I’d sort of pointed him in the right direction with Harold’s planner discovery.
“Kevin,” my mother spoke sharply. “There’s something you need to see.”
Within five minutes, I’d explained the note, notepad, Lizzy Peartree’s debt, and history of Lizzy saying the exact words written on the note in person.
And within fifteen minutes, a half a dozen officers pulled into Lizzy Peartree’s driveway and dragged her in for questioning.
* * *
“Mom!” I begged. “You have to let me listen.” I pressed my hands together in prayer pose as we both looked through the two-way window and into the interrogation room. Across from Officer Kevin Homestead sat a distraught Lizzy Peartree, mascara-stained tears running down her cheeks.
“Fine,” Mom said. “But don’t make a peep, and if Kevin asks you to leave.” She looked at me sharply. “For goodness sake, Talbot. Just leave.”
“Noted,” I mumbled.
A file folder sat in front of Kevin as bright lights glared on Lizzy’s perfect, yet shiny complexion. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Elizabeth,” Kevin stated calmly, his hands folded together on the table. “I’d just like you to answer a few questions for me, please?” He passed a tissue box across the metal table. “Do you think you can do that?”
Lizzy nodded. “Yes,” she spoke, her volume barely above a whisper. Gone was the confident, cruel Lizzy Peartree. The Lizzy behind the glass was a stripped down, vulnerable version of her former self, and I hated to admit that a part of me liked seeing her this way.
“First, can you please tell me where you were the afternoon of October 22?”
Lizzy looked to the camera in the corner, taking it all in, and sat silently.
“The afternoon of Harold Ellerton’s murder?” he nudged.
Lizzy wiped a tear from her cheek. “Mm hmm. I was shopping in Hershey.”
Kevin tilted his head. “Were you shopping alone?”
Lizzy nodded. “I find shopping with others slows down the process, she spat.” Apparently the old Lizzy was back.
Kevin jotted some notes in his book and continued the interview. This was not working in Lizzy’s favor so far.
“Now let’s fast forward to last evening. Please tell me your whereabouts from roughly noon to midnight.”
Lizzy rubbed two sweaty palms against her black skirt. “I had an eventful morning,” she began.
“Yeah, you did,” I muttered, remembering her credit card rejection at Castle & Crown.
She cleared her throat. “After shopping a bit, I got a manicure. Then I rested at home all afternoon until around six thirty.” She fidgeted with her diamond and without even glancing in Kevin’s direction, she added, “alone.”
Kevin prompted her to go on.
“Around six thirty I got ready for the wine dinner at Hauser, and once Patrick got off work, he picked me up.”
“At about what time was that?”
Lizzy swallowed. “Seven-thirty.” She moved restlessly in the hard, metal chair. “We left after dinner. Around 9:30, and then I stayed at Patrick’s for the night.” She narrowed her eyes at Kevin. “And Patrick can attest to that.”
“Ick,” I said.
Mom shot me an I-told-you-not-to-say-a-thing look.
Kevin opened the file folder in front of him and pulled out a stack of paper-clipped papers. “Can you tell me how much debt you’re in Miss Peartree?” he asked.
Lizzy touched a tissue to her eyes. “I’d rather not say,” she stated firmly.
“Would you like to rethink your answer?” Kevin gestured her sterile surroundings.
Lizzy pursed her lips and shook her head. “Over seventy-thousand dollars,” she whispered.
“What’s going on?” Patrick asked, suddenly appearing at my side. “Lizzy texted me to get down here ASAP.”
“They’re questioning her now,” Mom responded.
“Elizabeth,” Patrick yelled and then knocked on the interrogation room door. Kevin opened it. “Don’t say another word until I call an attorney, honey.” He looking toward his now visibly sweating fiancé.
Lizzy shoed him away with the back of her hand. “I am fine, Patrick,” she scolded, throwing back her shoulder and straightening up. “Just let me get this over with so I can get back home.”
“Are you sure?” Patrick asked.
“Yes,” she responded curtly.
Patrick shut the door and watched the questioning alongside my mother and me.
Kevin slid the stack of papers in front of Lizzy. “I can tell you that’s correct, Miss Peartree,” Kevin said. “Seventy-two thousand, four hundred dollars in debt to be exact.”
“What the —?” Patrick muttered.
I turned toward him. “You didn’t know?”
He silently shook his head.
“And what exactly does my debt have to do with Harold Ellerton?” she asked the question I’m sure Patrick wanted answered as much as the rest of us.
“As the future wife of Patrick Ellerton-Bluebell, you’d be set to inherit a large sum of money. Isn’t that right?”
I watched Lizzy’s throat bulge out as she swallowed again. “I don’t appreciate what you’re insinuating, Officer Homestead,” she hissed. He played the silent game until she finally spoke again. “Sure,” she spat. “Maybe I went after Patrick at first because of his money and ability to support my shopping habit, but I’d never murder someone to pay off my debts.”
Patrick stepped back from the glass and put a hand to his slack jawed face. “I am such an idiot.”
Lizzy looked toward the two-way mirror. “But I did fall in love with you, Patrick,” she proclaimed, sounding sincere enough. It was too late; Patrick’s face hardened, the damage done as soon as the words “because of his money” came from her lips.
Lizzy realized what she’d just given away and cast a mortified gaze to the floor, tears now dripping from her eyes. “I might be an awful girlfriend.” She sniffed. “But I didn’t kill Harold,” she spoke meekly.
Kevin opened up the file again and this time pulled out a plastic bag. Inside was the note left in my apartment. “And when did you place this in the apartment of Talbot Meadows?” He slid sliding the evidence across the table.
“Oh my God,” Patrick spoke aloud the words in my head. “This too?”
Lizzy’s mouth dropped open and then closed sharply. “I … I … ddd … did no such thing,” she said with an uncharacteristic stuttered.
“Miss Peartree,” Kevin said, his voice calm and collected. “It will go much smoother for you if you tell the truth.”
“I am telling the truth,” she mumbled, a hand covering her face.
“Mmm. Interesting,” Kevin remarked. “Because the handwriting on this note is a complete match with the handwriting we found on a letter addressed to your Aunt Isabelle.” He slid another paper from the folder in front of her. “So rethink that last statement.”
Lizzy’s head snapped up. “Fine,” she barked. “I wrote that stupid note.” Then she looked toward the window again. “The whole village knows Patrick’s never gotten over Talbot. I just wanted her gone,” she shouted in a flurry of emotion. She threw a hand to her mouth, realizing what she’d just spouted.
Mom gasped to my left while my breaths came out in short, silent bursts. My eyes locked on Lizzy, refusing to even glance in Patrick’s direction.
Lizzy cocked her head to the side. “Wait. My letter to my aunt? How did you -,” Lizzy started and then her voice turned ice cold. “How dare you go through my belongings. You need a warrant for that.”
Kevin smirked. “That’s just the thing, Elizabeth. We have one.” He pointed to the note. “The stationary you used to write this note happens to be from the personalized notepad of Harold Ellerton.”
“What?” she gasped.
“The notepad you took from his office, perhaps? From the room in which he was killed.”
Lizzy shook her head adamantly. “I told you, I did not kill that man. He was going to be my grandfather-in-law for goodness sake!”
“Then where did you get his notepad?” Kevin asked.
Lizzy looked to the ceiling as if it would send her the right answer. “I have no idea. I have a whole drawer filled with stationary. I’m sure at some point maybe I jotted something down while in his office and grabbed a few extra pieces of paper.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tears glistened her eyes. “I think I’d like to call a lawyer now.”
“That’s fine,” Kevin said, pushing himself away from the table as the grating sound of his metal chair meeting the hard floor echoed throughout the entire office.
Suddenly, the rookie officer from Aunt Tilly’s house barged into the building and flew past Mom, Patrick, and me. He held a small evidence bag in his hand. I caught sight of his badge as he knocked on the door. Officer Bryan Nichols. Willow Creek was full of newbies.
“Chief?” Officer Nichols interrupted, opening the door. “You need to see this.”
Lizzy put two palms to her face as Kevin shut the interrogation door behind him.
Kevin grabbed the bag. “What did you find?” he asked.
“Well,” Officer Nichols began.. Kevin moved to his office, so I could hardly get a close look at the small item now in his hand, but from the angle I stood, it looked like a bottle that could fit in the palm of a hand. “I found it in Miss Peartree’s medicine cabinet, and it certainly didn’t look, or smell like nail polish.”
“And?” Kevin prompted.
“I took it to Randy at the lab.” Officer Nichols paused.
Kevin put a hand up for him to stop talking. He opened the bottle himself and sniffed. “Odorless, which is strange for a nail polish. Let me guess?” Kevin’s head snapped up. “Cyanide?”
“Bingo.” Officer Nichols nodded.
Kevin slapped a hand to his shoulder. “Well done.”
Kevin barged back into the interrogation room. “Elizabeth Peartree,” he said with authority. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Harold Crawford Ellerton the Third.” In one fell swoop Kevin reached behind his torso, pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and attached them to Lizzy’s wrists. Her frantic eyes searched the two-way windows as Kevin read her Miranda rights, but Patrick had already left the police station.
Maybe Piper was right. Maybe drama did follow me to Willow Creek.
* * *
And I expressed that exact thought to Piper later that night. “You weren’t wrong about drama following me.”
Piper and I sat in the middle of a bohemian inspired pink and yellow area rug, complete with tassels around the edges, as dozens of wedding color swatches in the red and green color families surrounded us. I’d just rehashed the last two hour’s escapades over salty General Tso’s chicken from Foo Wong Twos, a crab rangoon, and a glass of wine.
“So it was Lizzy Peartree after all?”
I shrugged. “It appears so.”
Piper chuckled. “You know, I read in my leaves this afternoon a surprise was coming,” she said with a grin.
“Yeah, yeah.” I brushed off her voodoo talk and bit the side of my lip. “But Lizzy Peartree? It’s just —.”
Piper glared at me. “What now, Talbot?”
“I don’t know. It just doesn’t seem entirely right.”
Well,” Piper began. She pushed a hideous puke green swatch under the coffee table and moved on the next scheme. Piper’s jewelry jingled as she counted on her fingers. “One -- she had a motive. Two -- she had access to Harold. And three, not to mention most importantly,” she said, her eyes peeking through her long eyelashes, “they found the poison in her medicine cabinet.”
I poured myself another half glass of cabernet sauvignon and pushed the feeling of unease away. “I guess you’re right.”
Piper uncrossed her legs and took her plate to the adjoining kitchen. “I have to admit, I didn’t think she had it in her, but like we said yesterday morning, that girl had one heck of a mean streak. And quite honestly, it’s about time she got her comeuppance.”
“I don’t disagree,” I admitted.
“Now!” Piper took a swig of her wine and plopped herself down next to me. “Enough murder talk. Let’s narrow down these suspects.” She held up two swatches — one the color of split pea soup and the other one the color of holly berries.
