Playing With Poison Page 8

“Oh, yeah.”

  I looked around at the various male heads nodding in agreement and wondered how a person might approach the next delicate topic. I had no idea.

  “So, Gus?” I gave up on subtlety altogether. “I understand you used to date Candy?”

  The loud clanking of balls from behind startled me, but not nearly as much as the cue ball, which landed at my feet.

  I spun around, and Kirby saluted. “Your turn,” he said.

  Gus bent down and handed me the cue ball. “It was a long time ago, Jessie. Besides, practically everyone’s been with Candy.”

  “Until Stanley,” Bryce called over from the bar.

  Kirby agreed with Bryce. “None of us had a chance after that.”

  “What are you getting at, anyway?” Camille Allen scowled at me.

  I shrugged and told her, quite honestly, that I had no idea.

  “Well, I do,” she said. “You’re trying to pin this on one of us.”

  She took a step toward me, and I backed away and onto Kirby’s foot. Instead of yelping, he held onto my shoulders and steadied me.

  “Jimmy Beak’s practically court-martialed Jessie,” he said. “You’d be trying to prove your innocence, too.”

  Gus threw his hands up. “Oh, for God’s sake, people.” He continued waving his arms. “Jessie’s innocent, I’m innocent, you’re innocent, we’re all innocent.” He waved at me. “Would you finish the game, already?”

  That did seem like a good idea. I cleared the table. Then I played Gus.

  He’s a little more skilled than Kirby, but then again, Snowflake’s a little more skilled than Kirby. Gus is one of those guys who swings way too hard, apparently believing that if the balls make enough noise banging into each other, something—anything—is bound to go in. His is not the most successful strategy, but playing with Gus does add some drama to the game. He’s also trainable. If I can catch him before he blows it, I can usually calm him down enough to make a decent shot.

  That evening I did some quick coaching, and Gus was pleased to make a couple of tricky shots. In fact, he only had one ball on the table when I sunk the eight ball in the side pocket.

  “Nice shot, Ms. Hewitt.” I froze with my back to him, but Captain Rye walked around me until I had to look up. “But I think you’ll need your right hand for the next round.”

  ***

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked cordially.

  “Getting even.” Rye refused the cue Gus offered him, and walked over to the rack to find something better. He turned to me while he chalked up. “The best of three?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Do you planning on arresting me when I win?”

  Gus racked, and I motioned for Rye to break, unnecessarily reminding him he had lost when he had given me the break. He mumbled something about my fine manners, downed the six and the four balls while he was at it, and left me with very little to play with.

  I rose to the occasion, however, and pocketed three stripes before giving the table back. But Rye must have gotten distracted when Kirby asked me how Candy was holding up, and he missed an easy shot at the one ball. That clinched it. I ran the rest of the stripes and finished the game.

  Rye racked as I continued talking with Kirby. “What exactly did you think of Candy and Stanley?” I asked him. “Were they a good couple?”

  Bryce caught my eye and jerked his head toward the captain, who seemed impatient that I break.

  “They were okay, I guess.” Kirby answered me at the exact moment I took the shot. “But Candy could do better for herself. We all thought so.”

  Not one ball went anywhere useful. Not one. I stepped back in dismay and asked Kirby to explain, hardly noticing the clinking and clanging of the balls Rye was hitting behind me.

  “Candy’s gorgeous,” Kirby reminded me.

  “She’s way too good for Stan,” Bryce said.

  “Even if he was rich,” Bernie added.

  “Oh, spare me.” That was Camille.

  I braced myself and took a chance on further irritating her. “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think Candy Poppe dresses like a hooker.” She pointed to the pool table. “And I think you’re about to get your butt kicked.”

  Yeah, right. I turned around to pay attention. Rye made two impressive shots while I watched. When given my turn, I stepped up to the table and sunk three solids.

  “Where is Candy, anyway?” John the New Guy asked, and I completely flubbed on the two ball. “Isn’t she usually here with you?”

  John’s questions got Rye’s attention. But he must have believed me when I said I did not know where Candy was. He studied the table again, shot in the fourteen and called the eight ball.

  The eight ball? How the heck did that happen? I started concentrating on the game, only to watch as the eight ball rolled into the far right corner pocket, just as the Captain had predicted.

  A veritable hush fell over the crowd as I stared at the spot on the felt where the eight ball had been. Gus picked up Kirby from where he had pretended to faint, and Bernie examined my cue stick for signs of tampering.

  “What’s the matter, Ms. Hewitt?” Rye broke the silence. “Haven’t you ever lost before?”

  I shifted my gaze from the middle of the table, to the pocket where the eight ball had dropped. “Not since my father died last year,” I said honestly.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head and snapped out of it. “No need to apologize.” I glanced up at him. “I like playing with someone who gives me a challenge.”

  He bent over and whispered in my ear, “I was talking about your father.”

  Oh.

  I offered Rye the slightest smile and racked the balls for game three, which I won. I must confess, I do not know how I would have reacted had I lost that game, too. I haven’t lost two games in a row since I was ten, except to my father, of course.

  I held out my hand to Rye. “Good game, Captain. You’re very good.” I ignored the grin. “But I really must be going now.”

  I bowed to Kirby and Gus, handed Bryce my cue, and headed for the door. I tried not to notice Rye was following me.

  ***

  He caught up as I waited for the light to change on Sullivan Street. I turned around and spoke over the rain, which was drenching us both. “What, may I ask, are you doing now?”

  “I’m walking you home.”

  “No, you are not.” I pointed across the street. “I am quite capable of making it all the way over there on my own. Even in the rain.”

  “But I’m still walking you home.” He took my elbow and escorted me across the street as the light changed.

  I waited until we had gotten underneath the awning at my building before pulling away.

  “I do not like being bullied, Captain.” I folded my arms. “And you are not getting invited upstairs, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Rye chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself, lady.”

  I continued glaring.

  “What exactly did you think you were doing in there?” He jerked his head in the direction of The Stone Fountain.

  “What?” I asked. “I was playing some pool.”

  “Yeah, right. What were you doing?”

  I sighed dramatically. “Okay, so I was trying to learn what happened on Saturday. Wasn’t it obvious?”

  “Dammit!” Rye lost any trace of a grin and seemed to expect further explanation.

  “You have to know I’m a little interested in the outcome here?” I raised my voice again as the rain came down even harder. “Believe it or not, going to jail isn’t all that appealing. For me or Candy.”

  I tried to storm away but he reached out and pulled me back.

  “Let’s try this another way,” he said when I was standing still again. “What do you think I was doing in there tonight? And last night, for that matter?”

  I watched a few cars drive by the bar before answering. “Maybe trying to learn what happened the night Stanley was
killed?”

  “Very good. Now do you see why I’m walking you home?”

  “In case I learned something useful?”

  “Did you?”

  Chapter 10

  “Not much,” I admitted. “Stanley wasn’t nearly as well loved as Candy likes to think. But Candy couldn’t be more loved.” I thought about Camille Allen. “At least by all the guys.”

  “What else?” Rye asked.

  “She didn’t kill him.”

  “Someone tell you that?”

  “Bryce.” I thought a second. “And Karen, earlier. And myself, of course. People who know Candy know she didn’t do it.”

  I listened to the rain patter on the awning overhead while Rye waited for who knows what.

  “Audrey Dibble may have a theory,” I offered. “But she won’t say what it is until she consults her astrologer. Stanley Sweetzer was a Scorpio.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The Dibbles may have invested with him,” I said. “As did the Stones. And I’m pretty sure Camille Allen’s in that group, too.” I looked up and batted my eyelashes.

  “You got something in your eye?”

  I smiled sweetly despite Rye’s most discouraging frown. “You know, Captain,” I said. “Having a list of Stanley’s clients would be very useful.”

  “Mm-hmm. What made you talk to Jimmy Beak?”

  I lost the smile. “You watched the news?”

  “It’s part of my job, unfortunately.”

  “Okay, so he caught me off guard. And before you say it, I already know fighting back like I did was really, really, stupid. But he just made me so furious.”

  Rye told me not to kick myself too hard. “Beak’s had a lot of practice harassing people until they break.” He actually chuckled. “But you should have hit him with that microphone when you had the chance. I, for one, was rooting for you.”

  “How bad did it look?”

  “You mean you didn’t watch it yourself?”

  I shook my head. “The only thing I’m apt to catch on TV is a Duke basketball game.”

  “Well then, you’ll be happy to know the segment with you was blessedly short. The disturbance down at the Board of Ed took up the greater part of Beak’s report this evening.”

  I asked what had happened, and Rye explained that two members of the school board had gotten into a fist fight over which elementary school should receive new desks.

  “Hopefully no one was hurt?”

  “The superintendant. She made the mistake of stepping between the fists. Beak ended up interviewing her from the emergency room.”

  I cringed, but Rye told me to look on the bright side. “She’ll be fine—a black eye and one bruised rib. But this news certainly trumps your sordid little tryst with Sweetzer. Beak should be leaving you alone, at least for a day or two.”

  I decided to ignore the sordid little tryst comment. “What about you?” I asked. “Do you plan on leaving me alone? At least for a day or two?”

  “Heck, no, Ms. Hewitt. You’d miss me too much.”

  He turned to open the door, and we walked inside, where I endured a stern lecture up the two flights of stairs about how we needed to get a lock on the front door, and how I needed to be more careful, and not put myself in danger. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

  “Don’t you believe in taking the elevator?” he asked as we made it to my condo.

  “People our age need the exercise,” I said. “Besides, that one seldom works, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

  I unlocked my door and stepped inside. “Well, thank you for your concern, Captain.” I turned around to face him. “But as you can see, I’m home now. All safe and sound.”

  “What was your father’s name?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You mentioned him earlier. What was his name?”

  I blinked twice. “My father’s name was Daddy,” I said and shut the door.

  ***

  I had made it into my pajamas when someone else knocked. But I was sick of panicking every time Jimmy Beak came calling, no matter what the time of day or night.

  “The man has no mercy,” I told Snowflake and climbed into bed. “That, or he’s a vampire.”

  “Jessie?” Candy called out, and I sprang up. “Are you still awake?”

  I called back that I was coming and stumbled through the condo.

  “Oh, Jessie!” She rushed in as I opened the door. “Where have you been?”

  “Where have I been?” I wandered around, turning on the lights. “How about, where have you been?”

  She hesitated. “I asked you first.”

  “Over at the bar,” I said. I put the tea kettle on while Candy tottered into an easy chair. “Now you.”

  “I guess I took a long walk.”

  “All day?”

  “I met an old friend for lunch,” she said as I rummaged around for cups. “I thought it would make me feel better. You know, to be with old friends? Then after lunch, I kept walking.”

  Her stiletto heels caught my eye.

  “I called you before I went out tonight.” I spoke more or less to the shoes. “And you still weren’t home.”

  “Gosh, I must have just missed you.” Candy leaned forward, all wide eyed and smiley. “You met Captain Rye at The Stone Fountain, huh? I heard you guys in the stairway just now?”

  I folded my arms and glared. “He saw fit to search my condo this morning.”

  “So he was here twice today?”

  “He had a warrant, Candy. He was looking for the poison.”

  At least she frowned at that.

  “And Lieutenant Densmore checked my financial records.” I took a deep breath and told her I had a confession to make.

  She bounced onto the edge of her seat. “About Captain Rye?”

  “No. About Stanley.” I handed her a cup and sat down with a thud. “He was trying to sell me some stocks. I’m sorry, Sweetie, but he used to come up here.”

  I waited for a reaction, but she seemed not at all concerned.

  “Without you,” I added.

  Candy nodded, and it dawned on me that this was not the earth-shaking news I thought it would be.

  “You knew about this?” I asked.

  “Stanley wanted to help you with your finances, Jessie. He said divorced women need help.”

  I swallowed a groan. “Did he happen to mention any particulars to you? About my finances?”

  “Gosh, no! That’s none of my business, right?”

  I double checked that last point, but Candy insisted Stanley had never told her any details about my net worth, or how he had obtained such information.

  “How about our neighbors?” I asked. “Did any of them invest with him?”

  She considered the question. “Definitely not Mr. Harrison.”

  “How about Bryce?” Lord forgive me, I had to ask.

  She shook her head.

  “Karen?” Lord forgive me again.

  “No. Don’t tell her I said so, but Stanley didn’t like Karen very much.”

  I thought a second. “What about the folks at The Stone Fountain? Were any of them clients?”

  Candy scowled at me. “Is Captain Rye interested in Stanley’s job?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “I really have no idea what he’s interested in.”

  “In you!” The woman was positively gleeful. “What happened tonight, Jessie? Did you guys play pool? Did you beat him?”

  I rolled my eyes and assured her it was anything but a romantic encounter.

  “But he walked you home.” She clapped her hands. “That is so sweet!”

  “Will you get a grip?” I hissed. “The only reason that stupid cop walked me home was on the pretense that maybe, just maybe, one of us is not the culprit.”

  The smile faded. “One of us?”

  “Yes, Candy. You do realize you’re a suspect?”

  She started chewing her knuckle, and I felt a little guilty about my impatience. But I still asked the next question. “U
mm, Sweetie,” I said quietly. “Did you have anything to do with Stanley’s death?”

  “Of course not! Oh, Jessie, how could you think such a thing? I loved Stanley, right?”

  Why the heck was she asking me? I sipped my tea and thought about how to proceed. “Rye told me some things,” I said eventually. “For instance, did you know Stanley had a will?”

  She bit her lip and a tear or two landed in her teacup. “He left everything to me,” she whispered.

  I went over and knelt in front of her. “Do you know the details? What exactly he left you?”

  Candy swallowed hard. “You mean about the twenty-seven thousand dollars?”

  I toppled backwards.

  “So!” I said as I scooted back into my chair. “You knew about the money, then?”

  “I didn’t know anything until Lieutenant Densmore told me,” she wailed. “Really, Jessie. You’ve just gotta believe me.”

  I insisted that I did believe her. Snowflake hopped into my lap and we stared at each other.

  I did believe Candy, didn’t I?

  “It would help if we knew where all that money came from.” I glanced at Candy. “Was it related to his job somehow?”

  “Gosh, I don’t think so. Stanley didn’t take cash, did he?”

  Why the heck did she keep asking me these questions? I sighed dramatically and pondered the money.

  “Okay, what about gambling?” I asked.

  “Huh?”

  “If Stanley gambled, that could explain things.”

  “He used to play poker on Thursday nights,” she offered.

  “For high stakes?”

  “Huh?”

  I slowed down. “Did they gamble for a lot of money at these poker games?”

  “Gosh, I don’t think so.”

  “Who did he play with?”

  “His father and a couple other guys. I never paid that much attention.” She started crying again. “I needed to be a lot smarter, didn’t I?”

  “You needed to be exactly who you are,” I insisted and sent Snowflake over to cheer her up. “But I do have another hard question.”

  Her shoulders tightened.

  “Where were you Saturday night?”

  She hiccupped. “You know about that, too?”

  “I know you were AWOL from work, yes.”

  “I swear to God and hope to die, I didn’t do it, Jessie!” She hiccupped again.