Laced with Poison (7 page)

“Liz, did you say?” Arabella put a hand to her ear.

Bitsy nodded.

“Our Liz?” Arabella turned to Emma for confirmation. “Liz Banning?”

Bitsy nodded again, her mouth pulled down into a frown.

“Oh dear!” Arabella jumped and tea sloshed out of her glass and down the front of
her dress.

“We’ve got to warn Liz.” Emma grabbed her purse and began digging for her cell. “Did
you tell the police the flowers came from her?”

“I had to.” Bitsy’s tone was apologetic. “They asked me. I couldn’t lie.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Arabella got up from her seat and went to put her arm around
Bitsy’s shoulders. “They would have found out anyway.”

“We’ve got to warn Liz,” Emma repeated as she upended
her purse and dumped the contents onto the counter. She grabbed her phone and began
punching in Liz’s number. Suddenly she stopped abruptly.

“It might be better if I drove out there and talked to her in person.” She looked
to Arabella for approval.

“I think that would be very wise, dear.”

*   *   *

AS soon as the Sweet Nothings
open
sign was flipped to
closed
, Emma jumped in the bright yellow used Volkswagen Beetle she’d bought several months
after arriving back home in Paris. After driving Arabella’s Mini, she didn’t want
to try maneuvering around town in some hulking SUV. The Bug, as she referred to it,
was just the right size.

Liz lived outside of town in her childhood home, which she and her husband had renovated
and expanded. Emma suspected they might all be sitting down to dinner, and she hoped
she wouldn’t be interrupting them.

Liz’s station wagon was pulled up to the garage when Emma got there, but she was relieved
to see that Brian’s red pickup truck wasn’t. He spent a lot of time at his sister’s,
and she didn’t feel up to facing him at the moment.

Liz had an apron tied around her waist when she answered the door.

“Emma! How nice to see you.” Her freckled face broke into a huge grin. “You’re just
in time for supper. Nothing special, I’m afraid. The kids wanted mac and cheese, although
I did make it myself, and not from a box. And don’t tell them,” Liz’s voice dropped
to a whisper, “that I added some Asiago and Parmesan to the usual cheddar.”

“I don’t mean to intrude,” Emma protested.

“Nonsense. You know Ben and Alice will be thrilled to see you.”

Just then Ben skidded into the hallway and came to a stop in front of Emma. “Aunt
Emma!” He jumped up and down in his stocking feet.

Liz ruffled his hair affectionately. “I heard Brian asked you to Chip’s wedding.”
She couldn’t hide her smile.

Emma shrugged. “He asked me to do him a
favor
.” She made a face.

“A favor?” Liz laughed. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s a date. I assume you’re going.”
There was no doubt in Liz’s voice.

“Of course.”

“Do you have a dress? We could go shopping in Memphis and find something that will
make my thickheaded brother sit up and take notice.”

Emma thought about her closet stuffed full of clothing and the plastic storage bins
under her bed. “Yes, let’s.”

Emma hated having to bring up the reason for her visit, but there was no getting around
it. “I have something to tell you,” she said in a low voice to Liz. “Could we…”

“Ben. Go wash your hands.” Liz pointed down the hall, and after a feeble protest,
Ben obeyed.

“Let’s sit in here.” Liz led the way into the living room.

The living room had a high, beamed ceiling and a window seat that ran beneath the
bay window. Comfortable, overstuffed chairs and sofas were grouped in front of the
stone fireplace.

Emma perched on the edge of a chair and waited while Liz took a seat on the sofa.
She looked at her friend’s face and hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to begin.

She cleared her throat. “Bitsy had a visit from the police.”

“What?” Liz’s face collapsed into lines of worry.

“They told her that Jessica died from foxglove poisoning.”

Liz’s hand flew to her mouth. “Foxglove is a plant. Everyone knows it’s poisonous.
How did—”

“They think a foxglove flower was used to decorate one of Bitsy’s cupcakes.”

“But all those flowers come from me, and I would never, ever use foxglove.” Liz glanced
toward the window. “I don’t even grow it in my garden. Heaven forbid the children
would get into it.” She shuddered, and Emma noticed her clasped hands tighten. She
looked at Emma. “There’s got to be some explanation.”

“I’m sure the police will figure it all out. Fortunately, Chuck Reilly is away on
vacation. Another detective came to see us at Sweet Nothings, and he seems much more
on the ball.”

“The police have been to Sweet Nothings?” Liz’s eyes widened in alarm.

Just then the doorbell rang, echoing three or four times before dying away.

“Honey, will you get it?” Matt, Liz’s husband, called from the kitchen.

Liz turned to Emma with a look of panic on her face. “Who could it be? We’re not expecting
anyone.”

“Maybe it’s Brian?”

Liz’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “You’re right. It’s probably Brian. He has a knack
for knowing when I’m about to put dinner on the table.” She smiled briefly.

Emma followed Liz to the door and held her breath while Liz pulled it open.

Detective Walker was standing on the steps. “Mrs. Banning?”

Liz nodded, her eyes round with fear.

“Could I have a word, please?”

“LIZ? What is it? Who’s here?” Matt Banning strode down the hall toward the front
door.

Emma knew he worked as a software designer, but to her, he looked every inch the cowboy
from his boots to his checked shirt. He was drying his hands on a towel, and his eyes
were dark with concern.

He put his arm around Liz and looked Detective Walker up and down. “What can we do
for you?”

Walker pulled out an identification card and handed it to Matt. “We’re investigating
the death of a Ms. Jessica Scott at a party that your wife attended on Saturday afternoon.”

Matt looked from Walker to Liz, his eyebrows raised. “Quite a lot of people were at
that party. Why are you questioning Liz?”

“Ms. Scott apparently ingested foxglove, a highly poisonous plant. The hostess served
cupcakes that were decorated
with edible flowers apparently grown by Mrs. Banning. We are looking into the possibility
that foxglove was mistakenly used as one of the decorations.”

“Liz would never make a mistake like that!” Matt stood even straighter, and Emma thought
he looked taller than his normal six feet, four inches.

“I understand how you feel, sir,” Walker said diplomatically, his gaze sweeping the
foyer and the living room beyond. “We would like your permission to search your yard
and garden if you don’t mind.”

For a minute it looked as if Matt was going to say he minded very much, but then his
shoulders slumped and he said, “Fine. If that will prove to you that my wife had nothing
to do with this tragic mistake, go right ahead.”

Walker nodded, turned on his heel and called out to several men who were waiting in
the driveway. He spoke briefly to them, and then they all disappeared around the edge
of the garage, into the backyard.

Matt shut the door with a little more vigor than was necessary, exhaling so forcefully
that Emma couldn’t help but think of a bull blasting air from its nostrils prior to
charging the matador.

“They have a lot of nerve!” he declared. His face had turned a dark, dusky red, and
his eyes were sparking.

Liz linked her arm through his. “You were right, dear. Best to let them get on with
their search. They’re not going to find anything. I’m confident of that. Let’s not
let it spoil our dinner.” She turned toward Emma. “You are staying, aren’t you?”

Emma nodded and followed Liz and Matt into the kitchen where Liz bustled around setting
a place for Emma and dishing out portions of macaroni and cheese. The children
had already eaten, and Matt removed their plates from the table and put them in the
dishwasher.

Emma’s appetite had deserted her, and she pushed her portion around and around on
her plate hoping Liz wouldn’t notice she wasn’t eating. When she looked up, she saw
that Liz was doing the same thing, and the only one eating with any gusto was Matt.

The kitchen table was in a niche created by a large bay window that overlooked the
backyard and Liz’s gardens. They could see the policemen traipsing up and down the
rows of flowers in the fading light. Emma glanced at Liz. Liz smiled, but Emma could
see the worry in her eyes and the tightness of her expression. She balled her fists
in her lap. How could the police possibly think Liz had made such a criminal mistake?

“Mommy, Mommy.” Alice came running into the kitchen, her blond ponytail flying, her
face puckered with concern. “What are those men doing in our backyard?”

Emma noticed Matt’s jaw tighten threateningly.

“It’s okay,” he said soothingly, “Mommy and Daddy know they’re here, and it’s okay.”

“Okay. Can I have a cookie?” Alice pointed at a fat ceramic jar in the shape of a
cat sitting on the island.

“Only one,” Liz warned.

They all waited as she retrieved an oatmeal cookie and dashed off toward the family
room clutching it possessively.

Twenty minutes later, both Liz and Emma had given up all pretense of eating, and Matt
was on his second helping. The doorbell rang, and Liz jumped up, banging her leg against
the table. Tears came into her eyes and she dashed them away quickly.

“You stay here.” Matt threw down his checkered napkin. “I’ll get it. I’m sure they’re
satisfied now and will go away and leave us alone.”

Emma and Liz stayed in their seats at the table, listening to the murmur of voices
drifting down the hall. Suddenly Matt raised his voice. They couldn’t hear what he
was saying, but it was obvious he was upset.

Liz bit her lip. “I’d better go see what’s going on.”

“I’ll go with you.” Emma pushed back her seat and jumped up.

Liz hurried toward the front door, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “What’s
wrong? What’s going on?” She turned to Matt and saw the look on his face. “Oh.”

Walker was standing in the foyer holding what looked like a small plastic bag in his
hand. He turned toward Liz. “We’ve searched the gardens, and while we did not find
any foxglove plants within their confines,” he paused momentarily, “we did find several
plants beyond your property—certainly near enough to give you easy access.” Walker
brandished the bag he was holding, and Emma could see it contained a flower of some
sort.

“But I didn’t…I had no idea…that’s ridiculous,” Liz stammered. “Besides why would
I…” She looked around her frantically. “I didn’t even know the woman.”

“What does this mean?” Matt demanded, his brows lowered threateningly.

Walker looked serious. He turned to Liz. “I have to ask that you don’t leave town
without letting us know.”

Liz’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh.”

“We appreciate your cooperation.” Walker nodded toward Liz and Matt. “Good day.”

*   *   *

ARABELLA arrived at Sweet Nothings the next morning with her usual hustle and bustle.
Pierre’s collar and leash jangled as she pulled him into the shop.

“Pierre! Come on,” Emma coaxed.

“It’s that annoying dachshund, Bertha.” Arabella tut-tutted as she yanked on Pierre’s
leash. “Pierre has already escaped twice to see her, although it’s been almost two
months since the last time he managed it. Mr. Zimmerman was absolutely furious. But
Pierre is quite determined to woo his Bertha, which is ridiculous. There’s no way
either Mr. Zimmerman or I would allow it. Can you imagine? A French bulldog and a
dachshund mating?” Arabella shuddered. “It would be World War Two all over again.”
She laughed. “Pierre comes from a championship bloodline, and nothing must be allowed
to sully it. If I ever do breed him, it will be carefully thought out.”

Pierre finally gave up the tug-of-war the two of them were engaged in and skulked
off toward his dog bed.

“He looks as if he imagines himself as Romeo to her Juliet.”

Arabella laughed. “Romeo and Juliet indeed. Star-crossed lovers, right, Pierre?” She
chucked him under the chin and scratched his back. Pierre gave a sigh of contentment,
the love of his life momentarily forgotten.

Arabella wound Pierre’s leash into a coil and stowed it beneath the front counter.
“So tell me. How did you make out with Liz last night?”

Emma shook her head and shuddered. “Not well. I had barely gotten there when the police
showed up.”

Arabella gasped.

Emma looked down at her clasped hands. “They insisted on searching the Bannings’ garden,
but they didn’t find any foxglove.”

Arabella’s face started to light up, and Emma held up a hand.

“But they found some very close by on the neighboring property. Within easy reach
of Liz’s garden.”

“Oh, poor, dear, Liz! But the police couldn’t possibly think that—”