“Although Lydia’s main objective was to get even with Jeanette, and to clear her out of the way for her husband’s presidential bid, she was not particularly reluctant to poison poor Linda as well. After all, Linda was concrete proof of her husband’s infidelity. Lydia, of course, knew that her husband wouldn’t eat that dreadful curry. He hates garlic, and she put four whole cloves in it.”
Doc hadn’t gotten a chance to appreciate any of Lydia’s finer qualities. “Yeah,” he said, “but she sure as hell didn’t care if she poisoned the rest of you. That woman deserves to fry until she’s a nice golden brown.”
I chuckled, perhaps inappropriately. “Whatever her ultimate punishment is, Doc, she’s suffering plenty in the meantime. Worst case of flea bites I’ve ever seen. It was like those fleas were just waiting for a nice, cultured English woman to come along and be their dinner.”
Doc smiled with satisfaction. “What about the Congressman’s aide, Mr. James, isn’t it? At dinner the other night you intimated that he and Mrs. Ream might be sweet on each other.”
I held out my cup for more coffee. “So I was wrong, Doc. That was all an act, at least on her part, to exercise control over him. Delbert, on the other hand, might well have a thing for Lydia. Melvin thinks it might have been Delbert shooting at Jeanette that first day out in the woods. He does, after all, carry a revolver to protect the Congressman.”
Doc put down the coffeepot. “Or, it simply might have been the Congressman who shot at Jeanette, using his aide’s revolver. Unfortunately, we’ll probably never know the whole truth. Both of those men are as slippery as three-day-old meat.”
I was glad it was just cake we were eating and not a main meal. “At any rate, Doc, I think it’s possible that Delbert does carry a torch for Lydia. He was pretty broken up when Melvin arrested her. Anyway, he seemed much too eager to come across as gay, if you ask me.”
“Like he was sending up a smoke screen?”
“Exactly. But Lydia actually despises the man. Seems she blames him for keeping her husband supplied with drugs, and for keeping the secret of his affair with Jeanette for so long. By her own admission, she would have been happy to have him chow down on her vegetable curry as well, but she forgot that he’s allergic to garlic and therefore wouldn’t touch the stuff, even though he likes the taste.
“Unfortunately, poor Joel, who isn’t even on her hate list, had to suffer. But he’s doing all right now in the hospital. Jeanette’s still in critical condition, but I’m pretty sure she’ll pull through. After all, only the good die young.”
“Which means you were safe all along,” Doc teased.
I felt a goose walk over my grave.
“Maybe. But you know, I would have eaten Lydia’s vegetable curry if I had been there.”
Suddenly I felt angry, both at Lydia, who had violated my trust, and at Freni, whose fragile ego had given rise to the whole situation to begin with.
“One thing’s for certain, Doc, I’m never letting any guests in my kitchen ever again. Not even if I have to cook every meal myself.”
“Good idea,” Doc agreed. “There should never be more than one cook at a time in a kitchen. Two maybe, at the very most. Like they say, too many cooks spoil the broth.”
“Make that crooks, Doc.”
We both laughed, and I poured some more coffee. “Say, Doc, I might just be going on a date this weekend,” I said shyly.
Doc beamed. “I haven’t asked you yet, but sure thing, kid.”
I patted his free hand warmly. “Thanks, Doc, but it’s with someone else.”
Doc’s face clouded over. “Sam didn’t leave his wife, did he?”
“Get real, Doc. Jumbo Jim called me this morning. We talked for almost an hour.”
“You mean that hot dog fella down in Baltimore?”
“Chicken, Doc. And that’s the one. Turns out he got my number from information. He wants to come up this weekend and meet me. He thinks we might have a lot in common.”
“Why? Is he rich?”
I tried to look aghast but found myself giggling instead. “I don’t know if he’s rich, Doc. But we both run small businesses, and he’s my age—”
“Ah, so that’s it! You don’t have time for an old, bald man. Think I’ve lost the spark, eh?”
“Grass doesn’t grow on a busy street, Doc,” I said quickly. I had no idea what that meant, but I’d heard Susannah say it once or twice when she had bald boyfriends.
“And there’s no snow on the roof when there’s a fire inside,” added Doc. He seemed to have perked up.