Punch, Pastries, and Poison Read online

  “Oh, um, okay. Um—” The waitress’s eyes scanned the table like she was trying to remember if there had been a fourth member of our party when we sat down, and she’d just somehow missed the ambulance carting her off.

  “We’ll call you if need you,” Rhonda said. Even with her tendency to be blunt, she sounded a little cold.

  The waitress, still looking confused, glanced around the table again, then turned on her heel and walked away.

  “It’s not her fault. She didn’t know,” Sammy said quietly.

  Rhonda looked at me.

  I gave a half-hearted shrug. “You did come across a little harsh.”

  She sighed and wiped at the condensation on her water glass. “I’ll leave her a good tip.”

  We sat in silence for a few long minutes before Rhonda picked up her fork and stabbed her lobster salad. “What?” she asked when Sammy and I looked at her. “I’m paying for it. I may as well eat it. It doesn’t do Ephy any good to let it go to waste."

  She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make me feel any more like eating. Sammy did start to poke at her fried clams, though. I wasn’t even sure why I had ordered anything when my head was swirling so fast that I could barely put my worries into words.

  “Do you think it’s something about the café?”

  Rhonda made a face around her mouthful of lobster salad.

  “What could it be?” Sammy asked, rolling a clam over with her fork. She still hadn’t gotten any of them to her mouth, instead playing with them and moving them around the way a child did when they were hoping to convince their mom that they were eating when they really weren’t. “We’re all fine.”

  “This time,” Rhonda said, having swallowed.

  Sammy looked stricken.

  “This time, yes,” I agreed. “But who knows why? Maybe Ephy is just more susceptible to whatever’s going on, and that’s why she—”

  I cut myself off, seeing her limp body again in my mind’s eye. She was just a kid. Becky and Amanda leapt to my mind. What if something happened to them? I would never forgive myself. Ephy was in her early twenties—young enough to still seem like a kid—but Becky and Amanda really were kids. Kids whose parents lived in town and came into my coffee shop on a regular basis. For their own safety, I’d have to take them off the schedule until whatever was happening was sorted out. Rhonda, Sammy, and I would just have to hold down the fort. But Rhonda had a family. I put my head in my hands. It was too much.

  Sammy put her hand on my back and rubbed it gently. “It’s okay, Fran.”

  “It’s not,” I moaned.

  “It will be.”

  I dragged my hands down my face and looked at Rhonda for some commiseration. She looked alarmingly sympathetic, which just made me feel worse.

  “Dwelling on it isn’t going to help, Fran,” she said quietly. “Even if it is something about the café, there’s nothing we can do about it until we know what it is. The hospital will do an aut—” She stopped and looked at Sammy’s wide eyes. “The hospital will do tests to find out why Ephy collapsed. For all we know, she choked.”

  “She didn’t choke,” I interjected. “I’ve seen people choke.” I didn’t add that if she had choked, I didn’t have high hopes for her after the amount of time she’d been down and how much CPR she’d had.

  Rhonda gave me a look I could imagine her using on her kids and continued. “For all we know,” she repeated emphatically, “she choked. Until the hospital takes a look at her, we don’t know anything. Now eat your lettuce wraps before you get loopy from low blood sugar.”

  I looked helplessly down at the plate in front of me. The suggestion that Ephy choked to death didn’t make me any more inclined to put something in my mouth.

  “It will make you feel better.”

  “It will make me feel nauseous,” I said. “More nauseous. I already feel nauseous.”

  “We all do. But we’re going to eat our food because someone cooked it for us and if we’re going to figure out why people are getting sick at the café, we need our bodies to be strong.” She looked at Sammy. “What was it her mom used to say?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Food feeds the heart and nourishes the soul. Your heart and soul need nourishment. You need to eat. Your mother would want you to.”

  It was a low blow. We were coming up on the one-year anniversary of my mom’s sudden death, and Rhonda knew I still got emotional about it. Even now, I felt the tears burning in my eyes.

  “She’s right, Fran,” Sammy said softly. “The first thing your mom would do whenever somebody came in upset about something was to have sit them down and make them eat.”

  I knew they were right, but I wasn’t ready to admit it.

  “Do you remember last fall when Amanda came in crying because she failed her chorus final?” Sammy asked Rhonda.

  Rhonda smiled at the memory. “She prepared the wrong song, didn’t she?”

  Sammy nodded. “Your mom let her clock in and then had her go sit down at a table. Amanda thought she was in trouble or something, but then your mom came out with a basil-tomato-mozzarella sandwich and a bowl of minestrone and sat across from her until Amanda ate every last bite. And then she told Amanda about the time she made a tarte instead of a torte for an exam in culinary school.”

  A reluctant smile spread across my face. I’d heard that story before too. And I’d been force-fed soup on more than one occasion growing up when I was anxious about a test or sad about a boy. It really did help. I just wished my mother was here to force-feed me soup now.

  “Your mom’s not here to make you eat now, but I am,” Rhonda said, as if she could read my mind.

  I nodded. Nodding was all I could manage with the tears that threatened to fall.

  “Did you hear the one about the guy who walked into a bar?”

  I looked at Rhonda in confusion.

  “You look like you need a joke.” She looked over at Sammy. “I think we all need a joke. So did you hear the one about the guy who walked into a bar?” She waited a moment and then delivered the punchline. “It hurt.”

  I laughed despite myself at the sheer stupidity of the joke.

  “What do you call a fish with no eyes?” Sammy asked. “A fsh.”

  I laughed again. A couple of tears squeezed out of my eyes, but the dumb jokes had worked. I wiped the tears away with my napkin.

  “Why was six afraid of seven?” Rhonda said. “Because seven eight nine. Get it? Seven ate nine?”

  I rolled my eyes but giggled.

  “Now eat, Fran!”

  “Okay, okay.” I held my hands up in surrender. I still didn’t think I could stomach anything, but I knew when I was defeated. Rhonda wasn’t going to let me leave the table until I ate, and if I was honest with myself, my mother wouldn’t have let me either.

  I looked down at the lettuce wraps that under other circumstances would look appealing and took a deep breath. I had just convinced myself that maybe I could get a few bites down when the door from the restaurant to the deck swung open, and Mike strode through.

  He looked tired and worn. It had only been a little over an hour since I’d seen him last, but he seemed to have aged five years. His hair was rumpled, and he had dark circles under his eyes.

  He scanned the room and landed on me. “We need to talk.” He nodded to a table at the opposite corner of the patio.

  I had to admit I was grateful to have an excuse to leave my plate. I may have been used to swallowing down food every time I was feeling down, but that didn’t mean I was excited to do it. With a quick look at Sammy and Rhonda, I followed Mike to the far corner. He took the chair against the wall where he could see the door, and I sat across from him.

  He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. I could tell that he had bad news.

  After a moment, he rubbed his face with his hands then ran them through his hair. “Tell me again about the box of chocolates.”

  I wanted to ask about Ephy, but I wasn’t ready to hav
e my suspicions about her death confirmed. I shrugged. “I already told you everything I know.”

  He gave me a look that seemed like he wanted to be annoyed but was too tired. “Tell me again.”

  I sighed and started in. “We were really busy during lunch. While we were cleaning up, Ephy found the box of chocolates and asked what it was.”

  Mike pulled a notebook out of his pocket and started scribbling. “Did you see the box before Ephy found it?”

  “No.”

  “Where was it?”

  “On the counter, I guess. Ephy was—”

  “On the counter, you guess?” Mike repeated, sounding skeptical.

  I bit my tongue to keep from snapping at him, but I was less successful at keeping the exasperation out of my voice. “I don’t know, Mike. I didn’t see it, remember?”

  He looked at me with one eyebrow raised, but, to his credit, looked right back down at his notepad. “What about Sammy and Rhonda?”

  “I don’t think so. They would have said something.”

  “I’ll have to talk to them.”

  I turned around to call them over, but he stopped me.

  “Later. Who was in the café today?”

  “Are you serious?” I asked.

  “Mm-hmm.” He didn’t even look up.

  “I have no idea. I was working. And we were busy.”

  His eyebrow went up as he tapped his pen on the notepad.

  “I could give you some names, but it won’t be nearly everyone. And I didn’t know everyone who was in. It’s not the full season yet, but we’re starting to get tourist traffic—”

  “I’ll need to see your credit card receipts.”

  I nodded. “Not a problem.” I didn’t bother pointing out that lots of people still paid cash, particularly regulars who had a usual and knew their total off the tops of their heads. A little voice in the back of my mind reminded me that those regulars were the people most likely to have been at the party, but I didn’t want to think about that now—or ever.

  He ran through a few more questions about whether anyone saw the package get delivered, how it was wrapped, and who had touched it. Then he leaned back again in the chair. “The chocolates and the box are on their way to the state lab for testing. They have more resources up there than we do, and I don’t want to miss anything.” He stopped and shook his head. “I don’t like this, Fran.”

  I wanted to snap back that he should try it from my side for a while, but I controlled myself. “You said the chocolates are on their way to the lab. That means she didn’t—”

  His sad eyes met mine. “She didn’t choke.”

  I knew what he was going to say next but willed him to say something else.

  “The doctor said it didn’t fit the pattern of an allergic reaction either. We think the chocolates were poisoned. I’m sorry, Franny, but the indications are that she was gone before she hit the floor.”

  I clapped my hand over my mouth as I tried to gulp back a sob. It was the result I had known was coming, but it still felt like a gut punch. Poor Ephy. All she’d wanted was a piece of chocolate. My last words to her hadn’t even been kind. I couldn’t hold myself back anymore and burst into sobs. I heard Sammy and Rhonda’s chairs being pushed back, and then their arms were around me, their own tears mingling with mine.

  “She’s gone?” Rhonda asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Mike answered quietly. “Did she have an emergency contact on file?”

  “It would be with her employment paperwork,” Rhonda answered for me.

  “I’ll come by and get it later. They’re starting the autopsy soon, and I want to be there for it. I’ll call you later, Franny.”

  I nodded, still sobbing.

  He got up to leave but stopped and put his hand on my shoulder first. “I’m so sorry.” His heavy footsteps crossed the patio and faded away as the three of us sat in the corner and cried.

  Chapter 18

  Hours later, I was curled up on the couch with Latte, the TV playing a repeat of a baking competition I’d seen at least a dozen times but at least found comforting and familiar. Matt was banging around in the kitchen, making an awful racket. He’d said he was going to make us dinner, but it didn’t sound like it was going very well so far. He only knew how to make two things, one of which was spaghetti with meat sauce, so I didn’t know how wrong it could go, but I wasn’t optimistic based on the muttering I was hearing.

  I buried my face in Latte’s fur and inhaled. He probably needed a bath, but his dog smell was comforting. I scratched his head, and he twisted around to lick my face.

  A quiet knock came at the door. Latte picked his head up, ready to run to the door and defend our abode and all that lived in it, but then put his head back down against my arm, deciding snuggles were more important than defense.

  The knock came again, a little bit louder this time.

  “Matt!”

  “Yeah?” he called from the kitchen.

  “Could you get the door and tell whoever it is to go away?”

  “Someone’s at the door?”

  I cuddled a little closer to Latte.

  Matt came out of the kitchen, drying his hands on a dishtowel, his sweatshirt half-soaked. “You said someone’s at the door?”

  “Yes,” I mumbled. “Tell them to go away.”

  He shrugged and went to open the door. “Hey, man!” he said cheerfully. “Franny said to go away.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to let me in either.”

  Matt chuckled and swung the door open wide. “Come on in.”

  I didn’t get up. I’d known that it was Mike the second I’d heard Matt’s greeting. I liked Mike, but I didn’t feel the need to get up and make him feel welcome, especially not today, not when I knew he was here to grill me more.

  “Have a seat,” Matt said, welcoming Mike into my house. “You want a beer?”

  “I’m on duty.”

  “Some water, then?”

  “Sure.” Mike sat down on the chair closest to my head while Matt went and got him a glass of water.

  I heard the clinking of the glass and then the water running from the faucet, then Matt reappeared. “Here you go. Can I get you anything else?” When Mike shook his head, Matt looked between us and then started backing towards the kitchen. “I’m supposed to be making dinner, so I’ll just leave you guys alone to chat, then.”

  I didn’t appreciate the assumption that Mike was here to talk to me or that it was private or that it was okay to have let him inside in the first place. I didn’t doubt that he was correct, but I didn’t like it either.

  “You can stay, Matt,” Mike said. “Franny’d probably appreciate it.”

  Matt shrugged and sat down at the far end of the couch, pulling my feet onto his lap. I noticed that he didn’t protest too vigorously about getting back to his meal prep.

  “How’re you doing, Franny?” Mike asked after a few seconds.

  “How do I look?” I asked, not bothering to sound or act any more cheerful than I felt.

  “About like I expected.”

  I scratched Latte some more, and he rewarded me with more kisses.

  “We need to get in touch with Ephy’s next of kin. You have an emergency contact for her?”

  “It’s at the café.”

  He nodded and took a deep breath. “I want to search the café again, so if it’s okay with you, I’ll just get it while I’m there.”

  “That’s fine,” I mumbled into Latte’s fur.

  “Wait, why do you want to search the café again?” Matt asked. “You think something has changed since yesterday?”

  “Due diligence. Whoever left the chocolates may have dropped something.”

  “Like their driver’s license?”

  “I can only hope,” Mike said. “So that’s fine with you, Franny?”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t you need a warrant to search it?” Matt asked.

  “If the owner doesn’t give me permission to search, whic
h is her right.” Mike looked at me. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you or anything. There’s nothing wrong with saying no.” He hesitated. “It means I’ll have go to the judge and plead my case, but that’s a part of the job. No hard feelings if you decline.”

  Matt looked at me expectantly. I could tell he wanted me to tell Mike to get the warrant, but I didn’t care. I just wanted it to be over. “Search it. Please. Ephy died on my watch, eating chocolates that were addressed to me. I want whoever did it to be caught. If you have to search the café every day for the next year to catch them, then do it.”

  “Thank you, Fran.” Mike and Matt exchanged a look that I didn’t care to decode. They’d been friends a long time. Whatever it was, they’d be fine. “While I’m here, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.” He fidgeted in his chair. “The first attack was at your birthday party, and over a hundred people were poisoned. The second attack was at your café and killed a person. The chocolates used in the second attack were addressed to you. Fran, I don’t think we can avoid the fact that you are the target.”

  I couldn’t say that the thought hadn’t been vaguely in the back of my mind, but to hear him state it so clearly sent a chill down my spine. And Matt’s, apparently, based on the way he gripped my foot.

  “I’d like you to lay low for a while. Stay home. Keep the café closed.”

  “What?” I sat up for the first time. Latte wasn’t pleased and jumped off the couch then wandered into the kitchen to look for any errant food scraps. “I can’t stay at home. I can’t close the café. People depend on us. They count on us for their morning coffee. My employees depend on their paychecks. I have—”

  “Exactly, Fran.” Mike leaned forward and looked me dead in the eye. I suddenly realized how intimidating he must be to the people he was investigating. “People depend on you. They love you, and they love your coffee. And your employees depend on their jobs. That’s why you can’t go running around endangering your life. You’re not being selfish by closing the café. You’re being selfish if you open it. Ephy’s dead, Fran. I don’t want to be investigating your death next.”