Sally Berneathy - Death by Chocolate 01 - Death by Chocolate (26 page)

I didn’t know any such thing considering how much time I’d been alone when we lived together, but I didn’t want to irritate him when he was my closest link to food, so I grunted noncommittally. “The flowers are beautiful,” I said sweetly, “but you know what would make me even happier right now? A Coke and some chips and maybe a candy bar. Would you mind getting me some? Please?”

He frowned. “Paula said you were in here for food poisoning. Do you think you ought to be eating junk food already? I could ask the nurse to bring you some Jello.”

Food poisoning.
Very clever of Paula, telling the truth but making it sound like something totally different. “Been there, done that. Now I want something substantial. And anyway the poisoning didn’t come from junk food. Tell you what, if you’ll lend me some money, I’ll order out a pizza with lots of veggies on it. Does that sound healthy enough?”

It took some persuading, but I knew he’d give in. I could tell from the flowers that he was in suck-up mode. I ordered a giant pizza with double toppings. What the heck, I could probably sell the extra pieces, if there were any, to other starving patients.

He even got me a Coke and some peanuts to tide me over until the pizza arrived.

He insisted on opening the bag of nuts and popping the top on the can of Coke. Yes, he was definitely in suck-up mode.

“When are you being released?” he asked as I inhaled both items. With a little food, my attitude mellowed. I might even like the nurse if she came back.

Nah, probably not.

“I’m checking out at one thirty,” I said.

“That’s just another hour and a half. I’ll wait and take you home.”

That was not a very good idea. “I’ve already got a ride.”

“With who?”

“A friend.” Maybe that was stretching it a bit, but I wasn’t going to admit my ride was with a cop.

“Just call her and tell her your husband is taking you home.”

I really wished he’d stop that
husband
business, but I didn’t think this was the time to bring it up when I needed money from him to pay for the pizza. “I can’t do that. I don’t know how to reach my friend.” That was sort of true. His business card with his extension number was home with my clothes. “Look, it’s already set up. My friend is going to my house to bring me back some clothes, then take me home. Everything’s planned. I really appreciate your offer, but there’s no point in it.”

“I’m your husband. You can change those plans for me.”

I was getting distinctly unmellow. “No, I can’t. Didn’t I say that already?”

The arrival of the pizza put a temporary end to that conversation, though I knew it wasn’t over for good. I had to get rid of him before
Trent showed up. How would I explain that a cop was taking me home after a case of food poisoning?

Of course I didn’t get rid of him. Nothing worked, not even pretending to take a nap.

Rick waited.

Trent arrived at one thirty
with a canvas bag and my purse.

He stopped at the door when he saw Rick.

Rick sprang up from his chair when he saw Trent.

“What are you doing here?” Rick demanded.

“Taking Lindsay home. What are you doing here?”

“Taking my wife home.”

“No, you’re not,” I protested.

“
This
is your friend?” Rick asked and gave me that condescending look he did so well.

“Yes.” I wasn’t buying the condescension thing anymore.

“He’s that cop.”

“Can’t slip anything past you, can I?
Trent, if that bag has clothes in it, I’d be thrilled beyond measure if you two boys would leave me alone with it for a few minutes.”

Trent set the bag and my purse on the bed, then he and Rick went into the hall and closed the door behind them.

Trent had packed underwear, canvas shoes, cutoffs and a T-shirt. For a cop, he was all right.

I dressed hurriedly, listening for sounds of violence outside my room. I didn’t know if the door was sound-proof or if the guys were waiting for me to come out and be a witness to the bloodshed.

I opened the door to find both men standing facing each other, legs a shoulder’s width, arms crossed over their chests and grim expressions on their faces.

“I’m ready,
Trent,” I said. “Thank you so much for the pizza and the flowers, Rick, and for coming by to check on me.” I barely stopped myself from adding the standard superficial suggestion that we
do lunch
sometime. My mother’s training.

“So now you’re not even going to pretend this man isn’t your lover? I was right all along.”

I didn’t dare look at Trent, but I thought I heard him choking.

Where’s a huge chasm in the floor when you need one to fall into? “Rick, don’t do this. Detective
Trent is a police officer. That’s all.”

“Oh, really! If he’s not your lover, why is he taking you home?”

“Because I need a ride home. I’ve just had my stomach pumped and charcoal shoved down my throat. I’m not up to the third degree. Can we talk about this later?”

“No problem. I’ll get your flowers and meet you at your house.”

“I meant
later
as in tomorrow or next week or the twelfth of never, after I’ve had a little time to recover,” I said through clenched teeth.

He smiled that famous smile. “Sure. I’ll bring your flowers to your house then Detective Trent and I will both leave you to rest and I’ll pick you up Saturday afternoon to go to dinner at your parents’ house. You should be all recovered by then.”

Maybe I shouldn’t be so eager to leave the hospital after all. If I stayed over until Sunday morning, the problem of that Saturday night dinner would be solved.

The hospital insisted I leave in a wheel chair, and Trent and Rick had a grim, silent tug of war to see who’d push me. The nurse won. He was big and burly.
I’m pretty sure I didn’t bite him, because we chatted happily as he pushed me out of the hospital. Trent and Rick didn’t say anything.

When Trent and I were seated in his generic, standard-detective-issue, dark blue sedan and pulling out of the parking lot, he finally spoke.

“We got the lab report back.” His tone was all business. He’d lost the teasing lilt. Just one more mark in Rick’s debit column. “There was a shit-load of potassium trichlorate in the pudding cake. It’s a slow-acting poison that’s virtually tasteless except for a slight bitter flavor which would probably be hidden by the chocolate.”

“No, I noticed it. My taste buds are very sensitive when it comes to chocolate. But I already had a bitter taste in my mouth from the fear of thinking that nut was in my house, so I figured that’s all it was. Do I want to know how I’d have died if hadn’t been such a glutton?”

“It’s not the worst death. Potassium trichlorate works by slowing down all your muscles, including your heart. Your death would have been diagnosed as occurring from natural causes. I doubt if whoever planted the poison thought it would happen so soon, though. He probably anticipated that you’d have a piece when you got home from work tomorrow or after dinner, then die in a couple of hours. He must have panicked when you came downstairs and almost caught him. He was probably watching you after he ran out. Otherwise he wouldn’t have known you’d eaten the poison and passed out and he’d better get the evidence and run.”

I shivered.

“Air conditioning too cold?”

“No, but my proximity to cashing in my chips sure is.” I turned sideways in the seat to face his rigid profile. “
Trent, you’ve got to stop this guy. He’s crazy. He wants Paula in prison and me dead.”

“You know, you keep saying that, but you don’t give me anything to work with. Let’s say I buy into your theory about somebody wanting you dead so you won’t hit him with a bunch of lawyers who don’t exist. We still don’t have any motive for somebody trying to get Paula in prison.”

“We certainly do! We have a damn good motive. I just can’t share that information with you right now.”

“Well, if you ever do decide to share that information with me, maybe we can get somewhere. In the meantime, we’re not making a lot of progress. We did search the house across the street today. And if I may remind you, we didn’t have a lot to go on except your suspicions and a hole in the hedge, so don’t go all ballistic on me about how I’m not doing anything to help you.”

“What’d you find in the house?”

“Nothing. We could tell by the way the dust was disturbed that somebody had been in it, especially in the attic room that faces the street. There was apparently a lot of activity in that room, but whoever it was didn’t leave any evidence for us. Damned inconsiderate of him, I know, but some criminals are like that.”

“The attic room! I knew it! Sunday evening I thought I saw the sun glinting off something metallic in that window. Probably a telescope. That ought to prove something. Why would somebody be hiding out in a vacant house and watching Paula from a telescope while listening to her from those hidden microphones if he wasn’t up to no good?”

Trent’s jaw clenched. “Damn it, Lindsay, all it proves is that somebody was in the vacant house. For all we know, it could have been a homeless person or teenagers having a party or any number of things
. We have no proof it has anything to do with Paula or Lester Mackey. We don’t even have any proof those hidden microphones exist.”

“If the blood on Henry’s claws matches the blood in Lester’s apartment
and his car, that will prove it.”

“We didn’t get anything from Henry’s claws.”

“Damn! Maybe he wiped it all off while he was shredding Fred’s screen. Did you check there?”

“Modern technology is great, but it does have its limits.”

We rode in silence for a few minutes while I tried to figure out some way to convince Trent that Paula needed protection, not a jail sentence.

“If I show you the microphones, will that prove what I’ve been telling you?” I finally asked.

“It’ll go a ways toward convincing me that somebody is setting Paula up, although a motive would go even further.”

“You can’t have the motive, but I’ll tell you what. When we get home, we’ll march over to Paula’s house and I’ll show you those microphones.”

“You don’t live there. You can’t give me permission to search her house. Only Paula can.”

“And she will
.” At least, I hoped I could con her into agreeing.

“Okay.” He gave me a brief glance and a wicked smile and I realized I’d been had. Well, it was for a good cause, and seeing the microphones wouldn’t give away Paula’s secret.

We drove another block before he spoke again. “You planning to get back together with that guy?”

“No, of course not.”

“He doesn’t seem to realize that.”

“That’s why he’s a successful salesman. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word
no
.”

“You’re going with him to your parents’ house for dinner on Saturday. That sounds pretty cozy.”

“It wasn’t my idea. I did everything I could to get out of it.”

“Ever thought of saying
no
?”

“Several times. I told you, he doesn’t know the meaning of that word.”

“When’s your divorce final?”

“Three weeks.”

He parked in front of my house. Rick pulled into my driveway. Paula’s car was already sitting in hers which meant she hadn’t left town yet. Henry was waiting on my porch.

We all got out and went inside. Henry alternated twining himself around my legs and
Trent’s legs. He hissed at Rick. Good cat.

“Rick, I’ve got to take
Trent over to Paula’s house and then I’m coming back and going straight to bed. I really don’t feel very good.”

He pecked my cheek with the type of parting kiss married people share. “I’ll pick you up at five on Saturday. Call me if you need anything.”

I didn’t see any point in wasting more time arguing, and he left.

Trent and I went over to Paula’s house. She wasn’t wild about the idea of letting him come in to search for the bugs, but I convinced her. Convinced, conned…very similar words.

Not that any of it mattered. The bugs had disappeared.

Chapter
Sixteen

All things considered, I was feeling surprisingly good by the time I got to work the next day. I didn’t even mind waking up so early. I was just happy to be waking up at all.

We’d finished with the breakfast crowd, and I was trying to decide which chocolate fantasy to feature that day when Fred called.

“Is Paula there?”

“No, she just left to take Zach to day care. What’s up?”

“I finally got some information on Paula’s father-in-law.” He sounded disgusted, and I couldn’t wait to hear what the dirt would be. “I should have uncovered it long ago, but I did it the hard way. I can’t even tell you how many databases I’ve hacked into, and all this time it was a matter of public record, available to anybody. I can’t believe I was so dumb about this.”