Laced with Poison (32 page)

Sylvia dropped Emma off in front of Sweet Nothings. As Sylvia pulled away, Emma waved
good-bye and then gratefully climbed the stairs to her apartment. Her clothes reeked
of smoke, and she dropped them straight into the hamper while she ran a hot bath and
added a glug of scented bubble bath.

Emma groaned as she sank into the warm, deep water. She put her head back and allowed
her eyes to close. When she woke, the water was barely lukewarm. She shivered slightly
as she wrapped up in her robe and put on her slippers.

She was opening the refrigerator when she heard scratching on her door. She stopped
and listened. It sounded like a dog. Before she could move, the bell rang.

Emma glanced at the clock. Nearly ten o’clock.

Emma pulled her robe tighter around her and peered through the peephole. It was Brian!
She glanced toward her bedroom, but there was no time to change. She pulled open the
door, knowing her face was turning pink.

Brian didn’t seem fazed by her unusual attire. Nor was Pierre, who greeted Emma as
if it had been months since they’d seen each other instead of mere hours. He danced
around her one final time then dashed off to explore the rest of the apartment.

“I stopped by the hospital, and they said you’d already been released. I needed to
check on you with my own eyes.”

Emma felt a warm glow at Brian’s words. She bent down and scratched Pierre who had
returned from his explorations.

“Pierre seemed so down in the dumps, I thought maybe he would be happier staying with
you. I hope that’s all right.”

“That’s fine.” Pierre had flipped onto his back, and Emma rubbed his rather round
stomach. “I’ve got some cold lemonade if you’d like.”

“Sounds great.” Brian made himself at home on the couch.

Emma was glad to escape to the kitchen briefly to get control of herself. She glanced
longingly toward her bedroom and the closet. If only she weren’t trapped in her ancient
bathrobe! She carried the pitcher of cold lemonade and two glasses out to the living
room where she set them on the coffee table. She took a seat next to Brian and poured
them each a glass.

“Delicious,” Brian declared after his first sip. He looked at Emma thoughtfully over
the rim of his glass.

“I wanted to tell you about my visit with Amy.” Brian put
his glass down on the coffee table and swiveled toward Emma.

“Oh,” Emma said in a very small voice.

“We talked”—he scowled—“and I made sure she understood that it was over between us.”
He looked down at his hands. “I told her there was someone else. I hope that’s the
case.”

Emma smiled, unable to say much of anything.

Brian turned toward Emma “You smell delicious,” he said as he leaned closer.

“Bubble bath,” Emma mumbled as he put his lips over hers.

*   *   *

SEVERAL days later, Emma opened the front door to Sweet Nothings and was surprised
to see Arabella already there, behind the counter organizing stock with Sylvia.

She hurried toward her aunt. “Aunt Arabella! Should you be back already?”

Arabella waved a hand. “Oh, pooh. I’m absolutely fine, and I couldn’t stand to rest
another single minute. You have no idea what horrors daytime television subjects one
to.” She looked around Sweet Nothings and smiled. “I couldn’t wait to get back behind
the counter.”

Emma gave Arabella a hug. “I’m so glad you’re back. Sylvia and I missed you, didn’t
we?”

“We sure did.”

Emma could have sworn she saw the glint of tears in Sylvia’s eyes.

“What I really hated is having missed all the drama and gossip that must have been
swirling around town while I was stuck at home watching stupid reality shows that
couldn’t hold
a candle to the real thing.” Arabella tucked her purse behind the counter.

“Well, the Porter influence has helped to smooth things over, as you can guess, so
things haven’t been quite as dramatic as they might have been.”

Arabella snorted. “That and the fact that Alfred is mayor. Of course it was Marjorie
everyone was afraid of, not her husband.”

“But Detective Walker is still investigating,” Emma said. “Her car has been impounded,
and there was a large dent in the right front fender. Marjorie had left it locked
in the garage and was driving one of their other cars. Tests will most likely show
she was the one who hit Gladys Smit that night. I don’t know if they will ever prove
that she added the foxglove flower to Jessica’s cupcake, but they know she set that
fire in your kitchen.”

“My poor kitchen!”

“How are you managing?”

“So far okay, but I haven’t told you my exciting news.” Arabella blushed pinkly.

“Oh?”

“Francis has been temporarily assigned to an investigation in Paris. He’s rented a
charming little cottage.” Arabella looked up at Emma, her eyes wide. “I will have
my own room, dear. Don’t worry.”

Emma laughed. “Of course you will.”

Sylvia snorted and winked at Emma but didn’t say anything.

“And my house should be fully repaired by the time his lease is up.” Arabella looked
slightly sad at the thought. “I wonder what will happen to old man Porter’s money
now that they know Alfred isn’t really a Porter.”

“I imagine it will give the lawyers something to fight over for the next couple of
decades.”

“Yes, they’ll be the ones who really gain from it, I should imagine.”

Emma opened the cash register and took out the old receipt tape, which was now showing
a pink stripe down the center, and although it matched the décor at Sweet Nothings,
it meant that the roll was about up.

“I think it’s time for a change, don’t you?” Arabella was looking at one of the mannequins.

“Maybe the pale green Olga,” Sylvia suggested. “We’ve had it in stock for quite a
while. Maybe it’s time we gave it a push.”

Arabella was rummaging in the armoire when Pierre levitated from his dog bed and attacked
the front door furiously.

“What on earth?” Arabella turned toward Emma.

Emma shrugged. “Delivery, maybe?”

“Not expecting anything, are we?” Sylvia pulled the tape measure from the drawer and
hung it around her neck like a stethoscope.

“Pierre, that’s enough,” Arabella scolded. “He seems more excited than alarmed.”

A knock on the door sent Pierre into fresh fits of barking.

Emma opened the door cautiously. “Yes?”

Mr. Zimmerman from across the street was standing on the mat. He didn’t have his dachshund
Bertha with him, but he was holding a cardboard box from which emanated tiny squeaks
and squeals.

“Bertha had her puppies.” His face softened. “I know what I said, but they’ve turned
out to be adorable little things.”

He put the box down on the floor, and Emma, Arabella and Sylvia crowded around. The
seething mass of puppy bodies inside the box moved as one.

“Small litter,” Zimmerman said. “She had three, and I’m keeping one. The one with
the black-and-white ears.” He picked up one of the puppies by the scruff and held
it up for them to see. “Looks like his daddy no matter what you think.”

Pierre preened proudly.

“He certainly does,” exclaimed Arabella, leveling a stern look at Pierre.

“Any of you ladies want the other two? I’d hate to see them go to strangers.”

Emma looked at the two remaining puppies while marveling at Zimmerman’s change of
heart. Each puppy was a strange amalgamation of different parts from Pierre and Bertha
that somehow had ended up creating an adorable combination.

She lifted the female from the box and held her close. The puppy nuzzled Emma’s neck
then burrowed close and drifted off to sleep.

Without thinking Emma burst out with, “I’ll take this one.”

Zimmerman’s face lifted in a smile, completely transforming his normally dour countenance.

“I kind of like this little guy.” Sylvia held the other puppy up to her face and rubbed
her cheek on its soft, silken fur.

“It’s settled, then.” Zimmerman eased the pup with the black-and-white ears back in
the box.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves some puppies,” Sylvia said as the door closed behind
Zimmerman.

“And Pierre is a father.” Arabella gave the dog a slightly softer look.

There was another knock on the door.

“What now?” Arabella said.

Emma opened the door to find Brian standing there.

“I just stopped by on my way to the hardware store to see how you ladies are—” He
glanced at the puppies cavorting around while Pierre watched complacently from his
dog bed. “Good heavens, what do you have here?”

Emma laughed and explained about Pierre’s romantic exploits.

“Which one is yours?”

Emma picked up the female pup. “This one.”

“She’s beautiful. Pierre, you rascal.” Brian shook a playful finger at the French
bulldog. He stroked the puppy’s soft fur gently. “What are you going to name her?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always loved the name Grace.”

Brian cocked his head to one side and regarded the puppy. “I don’t know.” He looked
at Emma and smiled and the dimple in his right cheek deepened. “What if we have a
daughter someday and want to call her Grace? Maybe we should save that name?”

Emma felt heat flame into her face. “Oh…yes…maybe…you’re right,” she mumbled incoherently
before Brian stopped her by putting his lips over hers.

Emma was too wrapped up to notice that Sylvia and Arabella had discreetly slipped
from the room.

She relaxed in Brian’s arms as the puppy licked the end of her nose. The future was
suddenly looking very bright.

Berkley Prime Crime titles by Meg London

MURDER UNMENTIONABLE

LACED WITH POISON