Deadly Traditions, page 36
Still moving, Mike’s gaze met hers and he held up his drink. “Have you tried the eggnog? Don’t know what they’ve put in it but this glass is better than the last one.”
“Not yet. We’ll get some in a minute,” Marge replied, edging toward the lounge.
If only she could make a run for it, but that was too obviously rude. With a couple of long strides, Mike caught up with the women. “Really, you’ve got to try some. Why don’t I get you a glass?”
“Like I said, we’ll get some soon.”
As Marge spoke, she noticed that Mike was taking short, shallow breaths. She knew she could still turn heads but even she didn’t have such a drastic effect on men. Good grief, he must be really out of shape. She would admit they weren’t getting any younger, but a middle-aged man should be able to hurry across a room without being ready to collapse.
Mike wheezed, “Are you sure? I’d be glad to—”
“Thanks, but I’m starved.” Marge turned back in the direction of the lounge. “I need some sustenance before I get into the eggnog.”
Ignoring her comment, Mike continued, his voice hoarse. “So good. Spice or something . . .”
Marge turned back to look at Mike. He was staring vacantly into his glass, swaying slightly.
She rested her hand on Mike’s forearm. “You okay? Maybe you should ease up on the eggnog.” Not receiving a response, she spoke louder, gently shaking him. “Mike! Are you alright?”
Mike looked at her then bent over, wheezing heavily. Marge slid her arm under his to support him, looking around for somewhere he could sit down. Suddenly Mike slumped to the ground, pulling Marge down on top of him and knocking the breath out of her. She quickly collected herself, pulling her arm out from under Mike and rising to her knees, heedless of the rip she heard in the chiffon fabric of her dress.
Marge peered into Mike’s unconscious face then shouted, “Somebody find Doc McKinlay!”
She was aware of a flash of red as Dave Stewart knelt beside her.
“What happened to him?”
“He wasn’t making much sense and just collapsed.”
Marge gladly let Dave take over. He had first aid training and always knew what to do in a crisis. She crawled backwards to give him room, and Lois helped her to her feet. As she rose, her gaze fell on the damp patch under the mistletoe where Mike’s drink was seeping into the thick red and gold carpet.
Chapter 2
Marge flipped her hair back from her face, shivering in the stiff breeze. “I still can’t believe Mike died. I mean, he bugged me and I tried to give him the slip at the party, but it’s awful that he died.” It had been two days since the party, and she hadn’t wrapped her head around it yet.
“I know, and in such a tragic way,” Lois agreed.
Marge picked up her pace, eager to reach the end of the block so she could get out of the cold. Several buildings ahead sat the square brick building they were heading for. Ontario Provincial Police officers used the local station as a base when patrolling the area.
Marge pulled the lapels of her red wool coat tighter around her neck. “At least the station is so small it’ll be warm inside.”
Lois thrust her hands deeply into the pockets of her dusty rose wool coat. “I wish we didn’t have to go back to the police station. Not after our run-in with Constable Riley last fall.”
“Try not to think about the fall fair. This is only a few routine questions because Mike’s death was unexpected. They must be talking to everyone who was at the party. We’ll be out of there in no time.”
“I sure hope so.”
Marge bent her head against the breeze and plowed on.
“I can’t believe the nerve of that broad!”
Marge looked up to see her ex-husband stomping toward them.
Ted stopped in front of the two women and glared at Marge. “She’s not much older than our kids. The nerve of her!”
“Who?” Marge asked.
“That cop.”
“Who, PJ?”
“Constable Ross. She doesn’t like you calling her by her first name,” Lois reminded her friend.
Marge gave a quick nod of acknowledgement then spoke to Ted. “So, you’ve been interviewed about Mike’s death?”
“It was more like an inquisition.”
Marge snorted, quirking up one side of her mouth. “Sure it was.”
“I’m telling you, she wanted me to account for where I was the whole time I was at the hotel. And she asked why I had a grudge against Mike.”
“Why would your history with Mike matter?”
“I don’t know but she was acting like I was responsible for his death.”
Marge shook her head. “That’s ridiculous. Mike had a bad allergic reaction and they couldn’t get him to the hospital in time.” She regarded her ex-husband as he stared into the distance, his jaw clenched. “I’m sure Constable Ross isn’t accusing you of anything. Lois and I are headed to the station now. I’ll clear this up and call you later.”
She’d mostly avoided her ex-husband after his recent move back to Fenwater, but she wasn’t going to let her children’s father be accused of murdering anyone.
Ted shrugged. “Well, I hope you have more luck with that broad than I did. Like I said, she’s got it in for me.”
Marge glared at Ted. “Don’t go around badmouthing Constable Ross. That’s not gonna do any good. I’ve known her since she was a kid and she’s always fair. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
Ted muttered, “I hope that’ll be before I’m sitting in a jail cell.”
Marge stifled her grunt of frustration. Ted had always tended to overreact. Hopefully his fears were unfounded this time. “Well, the kids will be home for Christmas in a couple weeks, and I don’t intend to tell them their dad’s been accused of murder so I’ll get to the bottom of it alright.”
After a quick goodbye, Marge strode even faster up the street. She heard Lois puffing beside her as she struggled to keep up. When they reached the police station, she turned to look at Lois. Noticing her friend’s tense stance, she gave her a big grin. “We didn’t get arrested the last time we were here so stop worrying. This isn’t even about us.”
Marge opened the door and stepped into the small utilitarian front office. Sitting at the battered wooden desk in the centre of the room, Constable Riley didn’t look up. The two chairs that usually sat in front of his desk were missing. Instead, four straight-backed chairs were lined up under the front window.
Marge, with Lois trailing reluctantly behind her, strode to the police officer’s desk. “Afternoon, Constable. I thought Constable Ross was interviewing people about Mike’s death.”
The officer glanced up at her then motioned to the chairs under the window. “She is. Please take a seat, ladies, and she’ll call each of you shortly.”
Marge stared at the officer for a moment, surprised by his brusque manner. He couldn’t have forgotten them in the couple of months since the fall fair. She gave Lois a puzzled look as they took their seats.
Marge rubbed her hands together, enjoying the heat in the room. “Better day in here than out there,” she said to the officer.
When she got no response, she looked at Lois again and shrugged. Why was Constable Riley so uptight today? He was the new kid on the block last fall but he should be settling in now. Investigating unexpected deaths must be routine in police work. For this case, the officers just had to talk to the people who were at the party then they should be able to easily wrap up their enquiry.
A sandy-haired female officer opened the door of the back office and Dave Stewart stepped out. He greeted the women as he walked past them. “Nice to see you, ladies. I’d love to stop to chat but I left another trader watching my stall.”
From the doorway to the back office, Constable Ross said, “Who’s next, ladies?”
“Me.” Marge turned to Lois and winked as she whispered, “I’ll go first. Soften her up for you.”
Marge chuckled at the look of alarm on her friend’s face. She stood up and followed Constable Ross into the back office. The officer motioned to a chair in front of her desk and Marge sat down.
“I have a few questions about the party on Saturday night and Mike Wilson’s death,” Constable Ross said.
“Okay but I hope they won’t be as strange as the ones you’ve been asking already.”
The officer frowned at Marge. “The questions we’re asking are pertinent to the enquiry.”
“Then why ask people whether they had a grudge against Mike for an accidental death enquiry?”
Constable Ross silently regarded Marge.
“Isn’t that going a bit too far?” Marge persisted. “You were born sensible and I don’t think you’ve changed. So why are you going off on wild goose chases?”
Constable Ross narrowed her eyes. “This is a suspicious death enquiry.”
“What? He had an allergic reaction. There must have been something at the hotel that he didn’t know he was allergic to.”
Constable Ross was shaking her head. “I got the preliminary autopsy report back this morning. They found a small fragment of peanut in his stomach contents.”
“Peanuts! Even back in high school Mike was severely allergic to them. He wouldn’t have eaten any ever. So how did he get it?”
“That’s what we’re trying to establish. So now I need you to tell me everything you can remember about the party.”
Marge felt like she was in a daze as she recounted what happened at the party. Afterwards she returned to the outer office and motioned for Lois to go speak to Constable Ross, barely managing to give her friend a reassuring smile. She flopped onto a hardbacked chair.
The front door opening disturbed her revery. A well-dressed man walked in and sat down beside her.
“Hi, Marge. I guess I’m second in line?”
“No, you’re next, Gary, I’m just waiting for my friend.”
Judging by his smart, dark suit, Marge figured that Gary Hunter was on his way to work. Marge’s eyebrows drew into a frown as she regarded the Hawick Hotel manager. Were his kitchen staff responsible for Mike’s allergic reaction?
Marge sighed. “Mike’s death is just terrible, and at the party of all places.”
“Yes, it is. Our staff are very upset about it. They put so much work into the party and then a tragedy like that happens.”
“Were you serving any food or drinks with peanuts in them?”
Gary shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think we’ve ever made any drinks with peanuts. We didn’t even start serving the buffet before the party ended, but none of the food had peanuts in it anyway.”
“What about the snacks before the buffet?”
Gary narrowed his eyes at Marge. “Why all the questions about the food?”
“I’ve just heard that Mike died because of his peanut allergy.”
Gary’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! That’s such a shame.” He paused for a moment, staring at the floor. “I don’t know how that happened but it definitely wasn’t caused by the hotel. Like I said, all that we served before he died were snacks – potato chips and cookies. Definitely no peanuts in any of it.”
Where did he get it then? Marge wondered.
Marge was jolted from her thoughts as Constable Ross called Gary Hunter into the back office. Lois re-joined Marge, looking more relaxed than she had before the interview.
Making an effort to paste a smile on her face, Marge said teasingly, “You aren’t under arrest then?”
Lois chuckled, but glanced around her nervously. “No, but I was beginning to wonder if she suspected me of something with the questions she asked.”
Marge patted and smoothed her hair. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll fill you in on what’s happening. Fancy a drink?”
“Sure. The Honey Pot?”
“Not the diner today. I need something stronger than coffee.”
Chapter 3
Marge finished recounting her conversation with Constable Ross to Lois. She leaned back in the padded chair and sipped her whiskey, relishing the heat from the crackling fire in the small Rumford fireplace near their table. Dave Stewart was right. The Hawick Hotel made good hot whiskies. The traditional hotel was also a very comfortable place to unwind after her shock at what she’d learned at the police station.
She idly glanced toward the lounge doorway. Gary Hunter poked his head in, leaning his hand against the wide architrave as he surveyed the room. He smiled and nodded a greeting to the two women.
“Looks like the manager is back from his interview. I hope the hotel didn’t make a mistake that caused Mike’s death,” Lois said.
“Yeah, and I hope the police don’t get the wrong man. I’m gonna make sure they don’t try to pin it on Ted. What a Christmas present that would be for the kids. He’s pulled some stunts in his time but that would beat all, and it wouldn’t even be his doing.”
“Do you think someone slipped Mike the peanuts?”
“They must have. He would never have deliberately eaten them.”
“Who would want to hurt him?”
“I guess that’s what we need to figure out. My first thought is Helen, his ex-girlfriend. You saw the looks she was giving me, not to mention her snide comments. I don’t know her well but we’ve seen she’s the jealous type. I heard she moved to Fenwater about four years ago – before I came back from Toronto.” Marge paused. “Helen often meets clients here. If we’re lucky she’ll stop by today.”
“What does she do?” Lois asked.
“Interior designer. I heard she met Mike when he hired her to redecorate his house.”
Lois frowned. “Are the police sure the hotel didn’t accidentally serve something with peanuts in it at the party?”
Marge inclined her head toward the bar where the hotel manager was now talking to the barman. “I was chatting with Gary while you were in with Constable Ross and he’s certain they didn’t serve anything with peanuts in it.”
As Marge watched the hotel manager, a tall woman in a tweed wool coat, trimmed with a fake fur collar, stepped into the lounge. She scanned the tables at the back of the room, hesitating briefly when she noticed Marge and Lois seated beside the fireplace. Without acknowledging them, the woman headed to a table on the opposite side of the room beside the window.
“Will you excuse me for a few minutes? I think I better speak to Helen on my own,” Marge said.
Lois waved her away. “Go ahead. I’m fine here.”
Marge rose and made her way to Helen before she had time to sit down. “I’m glad I caught you, Helen. I’d like to offer my condolences on your loss.”
Helen regarded her coldly. “You know Mike and I weren’t together when he died.”
“Yes, but you had been going out until recently. I also wanted to clear the air between us. I think you got the wrong impression at the party.”
“That you and Mike were hitting it off? I don’t think so. You looked pretty cozy to me.”
Marge shook her head slowly and took a deep breath, trying to keep her temper under control. “Sometimes looks can be deceiving. Mike was the one who was trying to get friendly. But I’ve known him since high school and I’ve never been interested in him. I was trying to get that through to him without making a scene.”
The look Helen gave her dripped disbelief.
“I’m sure it wasn’t easy seeing him looking at another woman when you hadn’t split up that long ago, but for what it’s worth, I didn’t reciprocate his interest,” Marge continued.
Helen gave a harsh laugh. “It doesn’t matter. It just reminded me how he never could resist women.”
“It sounds like he didn’t treat you very well.”
“Yeah, well, he put everything he had into wooing me when we first dated, but after a while his interest broadened, shall we say. Eventually I’d had enough of it.”
“So you left him.”
“Before I could dump him, he dumped me.”
“Oh, that must have really stung,” Marge said.
Helen narrowed her eyes. “True, but not enough to want him dead.”
“You’ve heard that his death might be suspicious then?”
“Yeah, I’ve just come from the police station. But, like I said, his philandering annoyed me, and I guess I flew off the handle when I saw him with you at the party, but I wouldn’t have tried to kill him. It just irked me to be reminded of what a low life he was. But, there’s other fish in the sea, and I’ve got my business. I didn’t need him.”
Marge nodded. “You’re probably one of the people who was closest to him lately though. So, if you didn’t want to kill him, do you have any idea who else might?”
Helen pursed her lips as she gazed past Marge’s shoulder toward the door. “My best guess would be Dean Walker.”
“The shoe repair guy in the market?”
“Yeah, he loaned Mike money to upgrade shelving and other stuff for the shop he was opening, and I know Mike was avoiding him. He wouldn’t set up a repayment schedule.”
“But why would Dean want to kill Mike if he still owed him money?”
Helen shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he just got fed up with the run around he was getting and snapped.” Helen glanced toward the door again then turned to Marge. “Will you excuse me? There’s my client.”
Marge held out her hand. “Thanks for talking to me. I hope we’ve sorted things out and don’t have any hard feelings.”
Helen shook her hand. “None at all. Now I must go.”
Helen went to meet her client as Marge returned to her table and sat down.
“How did it go?” Lois asked.
“Well, we’ve cleared the air.” Marge quickly recapped the conversation for Lois.
