“Yes, I saw it in the library,” the chief said. “The black china made a nice, gruesome touch in the crime scene photos. Did anyone help Rose Noire?”
“Not that I saw,” I said. “But everyone would have known who it was for, and anyone who wanted to spike the tea or the sugar bowl would have had plenty of chances while Rose Noire was fussing over the napkins and arranging the flowers.”
Another pause. A long pause.
“So if the poison is in the tea—” he began.
“Or the toast, or the sugar bowl, or anything else on the tray.”
“—you want me to know that Rose Noire didn’t do it.”
“I want you to know that Rose Noire isn’t the only one who could have done it,” I said. “That’s all. And that she might have some idea about who was hanging around and had the opportunity.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Anything else?”
“All I can think of for now,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said. “Now get some rest.”
It sounded like an order. And, while he probably wouldn’t believe it, an order I planned to obey.
As soon as I figured out what the loud voices in the kitchen were all about.
Chapter 13
I stuck my head back into the kitchen. The last few of its former occupants were filing out—Ramon Soto, Bronwyn Jones, and Dr. Blanco, supervised by Sammy and a deputy I recognized as one of Randall Shiffley’s cousins.
“I insist that you present my request to Chief Burke immediately,” Blanco was saying to the deputies. He could have used some speech lessons. His voice, normally rather high and thin, had a tendency to squeak when he tried to raise it in emphasis.
“I’ll do that, sir,” Sammy said. “I’m sure he’ll get to you as soon as possible.”
“I have a very busy day,” Blanco said. “And this disruption is intolerable!”
Ramon muttered something in Spanish. Bronwyn tittered. Blanco shot him a dirty look but didn’t reply. He strode out the back door, presumably to join the rest of the suspects in the barn.
“What a jerk,” Ramon said. “Thinks he’s more important than everybody else.”
I’d have diagnosed Blanco as having an inferiority complex myself.
“Mr. Soto?” Sammy said. “Chief’s waiting.”
“Right,” he said. Head down, shoulders hunched, he stumbled toward the door to the hall. Sammy followed him.
“See her out to the barn, will you?” he said over his shoulder to Deputy Shiffley.
The door closed. Bronwyn turned to stare at me and the deputy with arms crossed and a frown on her face.
“Don’t look at me,” I said. I looked longingly at the refrigerator. I’d intended to rummage in it for something suitable to eat. At the moment, suitable meant anything my temporarily picky appetite could tolerate that was still in its original sealed container. But I’d forgotten that it was an integral part of the crime scene. And I wasn’t sure I wanted to eat anything from there anyway—not until the police figured out how Dr. Wright was poisoned.
“If you could follow me to the barn, ma’am,” Deputy Shiffley said to Bronwyn.
“What about her?” she said, pointing to me.
“I’ve already been interrogated and released,” I said.
I could hear Bronwyn still arguing with the officer as I drifted out into the hallway.
Something to eat and a place to sleep. I had some snacks stashed in my bedroom. But I stared up at the stairs in dismay. It had been a long morning. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go upstairs. If I did, I’d probably be too tired to come down later, which would mean I’d miss everything that was going on.
As I was dithering over whether to climb the stairs, the doorbell rang.
“Serves me right for hesitating,” I muttered as I made my slow way to the door.
But when I opened the door and saw who was standing outside, my mood lifted.
“Kathy!” I exclaimed.
Kathy Borgstrom was dressed, as usual, almost entirely in black—black velvet coat, black tights, black wool cap, black platform boots, and black velvet gloves. A cobwebby scarf in neon pink added the one note of color—though very little warmth. But while her wardrobe might look as if she’d raided the crypt of a Goth-obsessed vampire, Kathy herself could never be described as anything but wholesome and perky. Not to her face, of course.
“Meg!” she said. “You look enormous. How much longer?”
“Anytime now,” I said. “Come in.”
“I was kidding about the enormous part,” she said. “I hope you realized that. Most of you looks fine; you haven’t gained a lot of weight in your face or your hands or—”