Death by the Dozen (19 page)

The room was more of an oversized closet than anything else. Utilitarian carpet on the floor and beige upholstery on wood-framed chairs filled the small room. A corner table held an in-house phone, a lamp, and a stack of well-thumbed magazines.

“I’ll let Dr. Patel know where you are,” the nurse said. “He’ll be with you as soon as he can.”

They all nodded numbly. There weren’t enough seats in the room, so Mel and Joe stood in the doorway. She preferred that. She wanted to know the minute the door opened.

“Can you tell me what happened today?” Joe asked.

“I was headed over to Café Zuzu, and Angie decided to bike over with me. We ordered breakfast, but I saw Jordan Russell and decided to say hello.”

“Vic’s protégée?” Joe asked. “I didn’t think you were overly fond of her.”

“True. Honestly, I wanted to ask her some questions about Vic,” Mel said. She glanced at Joe’s face to see what he made of this, but he said nothing. “I ran into Grace by the pool and invited her to join Angie and me, but then Angie got sick and now we’re here.”

“Any idea what the poison was?” Joe asked.

They were standing close together, and Mel appreciated that Joe was keeping his voice neutral, sounding almost conversational, despite the horrible news she was conveying.

“No, the doctor said it was similar to foxglove, but he didn’t seem to think that was it.”

“I have a contact in poison control that we used as an expert witness on a case a few years ago,” he said. “I think I’ll give him a call.”

Mel nodded. “Do it now, right away, please. If they can identify the poison, then the doctor will have a much better idea of how to treat her.”

“All right,” Joe said. “I’ll need to call my office to get the number. I’ll be just a minute. Will you be okay?”

Mel gestured to the waiting room with the four remaining DeLaura bothers and Tate. “I’ll be fine.”

Joe kissed her forehead and strode away.

Mel couldn’t sit, so she began pacing, back and forth, up and down the hallway. No one came from the room with Angie. The clock felt as if it were moving backwards. Mel was sure she was going to lose her mind with worry.

After her third pass, Tate got up and joined her. Together they walked back and forth, up and down, and on their second pass, Tony joined them. And so it went until six of them were striding shoulder to shoulder up and down the hallway.

A few of the staff looked at them but said nothing. On their fifth pass, Mel glanced up and saw them, Maria and Dominick DeLaura Senior, hurrying down the hall toward them.

Maria was clutching her rosary beads, and Dominick Senior’s thick gray hair was disheveled, as if he’d raked his hands through it repeatedly, a gesture Mel knew that each of his sons had inherited and used when they were stressed.

Dom and Al bookended their parents, as if to bolster them emotionally and physically as they led the way to Angie’s room.

Maria was an older version of Angie, with the same warm brown eyes and striking features, the same compact figure that was soft but not pudgy. Her hair was short and gray, and she wore jean capri pants and tennies with a pink sweatshirt. There was a streak of dirt on her knee, and Mel would have bet money that she had been in her garden when they got Dom’s call. Maria had a gift for plants and was the only person Mel had ever known who’d actually grown a tree from an avocado pit.

Maria looked strained but not panicked. Having raised eight children, she had done her share of time in the emergency room. She nodded at the cluster of them, and Mel knew it meant a lot to her that the whole family was here.

Dom Senior moved more slowly than his wife, having recently had hip replacement surgery. Still there was fire in the stout Italian man’s eyes when he asked, “Where is she?”

“In there,” Mel said.

Maria and Dom exchanged a look and then stiffened their spines, and as one, they pushed through the door into the room where Angie was being treated.

Mel heard a protest, but then Dom Senior spoke and there was no more argument. Dom was a large man, standing well above six feet. His sturdy build and harsh features, topped by a bushy gray mustache and matching eyebrows, gave anyone who considered arguing with him a moment’s pause.

Mel craned her neck, trying to see over the DeLauras’ heads, but no luck. The circle of medical staff surrounding Angie blocked any view she might have gotten, and the door closed before she could get even a glimpse of her friend. One glance at the crew around her, and she noticed she wasn’t the only one trying to get a peek.

“Oh, to hell with this,” Tate said. He looked half crazy with worry. “I’m her husband. I’m going in.”

No one stopped him, and he slipped through the door right behind her parents.

Mel looked up to see Joe striding back down the hall toward them. It was at a time like this, when her whole planet was thrown into chaos, that she really appreciated the sense of order Joe brought to any situation.

From his blue striped tie and crisp dress shirt to his shiny wingtips, Joe looked every inch the man in charge. It occurred to Mel that someday he probably would be the chief district attorney or maybe even the attorney general for the state. Where would she fit in his life then?

She shook her head. Now was not the time for unsubstantiated panic about her relationship, and she suspected she was only going there because thinking of Angie was becoming unbearable.

“Any news?” Joe asked as he slid into her side and scooped her close with one arm about her waist.

“Not yet,” Mel said. “But your parents are in there.”

“How did they look?” he asked.

“Scared.”

“Where’s Tate?” he asked.

“He’s in there, too,” she said. “Given that he’s her husband and all.”

“You know he’s in love with her,” Joe said.

Mel turned to study him. His voice had sounded odd, as if he were trying to sound more casual than he felt. Did Joe worry about her relationship with Tate? He had never said anything before.

She was about to open her mouth to explain that she knew how both Tate and Angie felt, the fatheads, but the swinging door opened and all thought fled from Mel’s mind as she braced herself for any news.

Tate was the first to step out followed by Dr. Patel.

Looking limp, Tate looked at Mel and nodded. “She’s going to be all right.”

Cheers erupted from the DeLaura brothers, and Joe snatched Mel up into his arms and hugged her tight enough to crack a rib. He set her down and joined the huddle of brothers as they pounded one another on the back. Mel could see them all making surreptitious wipes across their eyes to hide their tears of relief.

Tate opened his arms and she hugged him close. They hadn’t lost Angie. She was going to be okay. Maria and Dom Senior came out of the room and joined their sons, then Maria reached out and pulled Angie and Tate into the group.

“You’re family, both of you,” she said in a voice gruff with emotion as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Don’t ever forget it.”

Mel and Tate exchanged a glance and joined in the hugging. It felt good after the strain of the past two hours to pull these people she had known since she was a child close and hug them.

Dr. Patel glanced at their group, looking relieved. Mel imagined having both Tate and Dom Senior hovering would make even the best doctor nervous.

“Are you Mel?” Dr. Patel asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“She’s asking for you,” he said.

“You can talk for just a minute, but then I’m moving her up to the ICU,” he said.

“All right,” Mel said.

She squeezed Joe’s hand as she broke away from the group and went into the room. They had changed Angie’s clothes, and she was wearing one of the hospital johnnies that opened in the back and flattered no one.

Her dark hair fanned out across the pillow, but her normally olive skin tone now looked to be a sickly shade of gray against the white sheets. She was hooked up to several machines, one of which was the electrocardiogram.

“How are you feeling?”

“Are you kidding?” Angie asked through dry lips. “‘My life is as good as an Abba song. It’s as good as “Dancing Queen.” ’ ”

“Seriously?” Mel asked on a snort that turned into a choked sob. “You’re quoting
Muriel’s Wedding
to me now?”

Angie opened her mouth as if she was about to sing. Mel held up her hand to stop her. “No, save your strength. Is there anything you need, or is there something I can get you?”

“I want my jammies,” Angie said. “The blue ones with the cupcakes all over them.”

“Done.”

“What time is it?” Angie asked.

“I don’t know,” Mel said. “It must be past noon.”

Angie’s eyes went round. “What are you doing here?”

She arched her back as if she would sit up, but she didn’t have the strength, and the nurse nearby caught her and pushed her back down.

“Oh, no you don’t,” the nurse said. “You are to stay put.”

“Mel, you have to get down to the festival,” Angie said. “You have to compete today, you can’t forfeit.”

Mel hadn’t even thought about the festival. With Angie so ill, the contest had less than no importance for her.

She waved her hand. “Angie, I don’t care about that stupid competition. The only thing that matters to me is that you’re okay.”

“Really?” Angie asked. “Well, I care. So I am telling you as your best friend and business partner that you need to get your butt down there. Pronto.”

“Angie, I really don’t think—” Mel began, but Angie interrupted her.

“Obviously,” Angie said. She grabbed Mel’s hand as they began to wheel her out of the room, forcing Mel to walk with her or be dragged. “Because if you were thinking, you’d realize that whoever poisoned me is trying to stop us from winning the competition, and you should be down there at the festival figuring out who it was.”

The rolling bed was rounding a corner, and Mel couldn’t hang on. Angie’s fingers slipped through her grasp, but she heard Angie call out, “Start with Olivia!”

“I’m not going,” Mel said. “I’m not leaving her. I’m sure it was just the aftereffects of the poison making her think someone from the competition tried to poison her. I mean, that’s paranoid, right?”

Joe was silent. The entire family had moved up to one of the ICU waiting rooms. Only two people were allowed in at a time to see Angie, so they were taking turns.

Sal, Dom, and Ray were the only DeLaura brothers with families of their own, and their wives and children soon joined the vigil.

Dom’s little girl looked just like him with a sturdy build, chocolate brown eyes, and thick black curls. Given the strength of the DeLaura DNA, it meant she also looked just like Angie. She was as cute as could be, and Mel could hardly stand to look at her.

“Mel, I think Angie might be right,” Joe said. “My friend at poison control was stunned by what I described, and he said a substance that was so obscure with such a short reaction time was most likely a deliberate poisoning.”

“Oh my god.”

Joe took her hand in his and squeezed her fingers hard as if bracing her for more bad news.

“And Mel, I have to be honest, I don’t think the poison was meant for Angie. I think it was meant for you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you’re the baking genius behind the team that is Fairy Tale Cupcakes,” he said. “If this is a competitor, it makes sense that they’d go after you.”

“The prize is ten thousand dollars,” Mel said. “Yeah, it’s a lot but certainly not worth murdering the competition.”

“That would be true if it was just ten thousand dollars that you are competing for, but it isn’t. This is a very prestigious competition with a lot of cash,
and
the competitors all know that the Food Channel is always looking for new and fresh talent. Winning this would be a coup for anyone who had dreams of Food Channel stardom.”

“I just don’t see it,” Mel said.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” he said. “But I do think Angie is right. We need to get down there.”

“We?” Mel asked.

“You don’t think I’m letting you out of my sight, do you?”

“I don’t want to leave her,” Mel argued.

“I’ll be here,” Tate said as he joined them. “I’m not leaving her, and I’ll call you if there is anything, even a case of hiccups, to report.”

“I—”

“Go,” Tate said. “It’s the best thing you can do for her. She’ll rest easier if she knows you’ve gone. Besides, with this crew waiting, you won’t get in to see her for at least a few more hours.”

“So, it’s settled,” Joe said. “Excellent.”

Mel did not like the dark expression that shadowed his features. With his jaw set and his brow lowered, he looked like he wanted to do some damage.

“You know the contest started fifteen minutes ago. We’ve probably already been disqualified.”