Read Online A Shattering Crime by Jennifer McAndrews - Free Book Online Page B

heart attack.”
    Diana huffed. “Tom, we don’t know for sure what it was or what it wasn’t.”
    â€œWell, now, Diana,” Grace said, placing a porcelain mug on the counter. “You did say odds were—”
    â€œI know what I said,” Diana snapped. Eyes wide, nostrils slightly flared, she squared her shoulders and stood just that little bit straighter. An observant person could see anger coming on Diana like storm clouds approaching on the horizon. “I said the victim’s symptoms were inconsistent with a heart attack. Doesn’t make it impossible.”
    Arms still folded over his chest, Terry turned his swivel stool so he was facing Diana. “That is what you said. But you also said you were down at the bakery. Now, unless things have changed, the bakery still serves coffee and yet here you are, picking up three coffees to go and a couple donuts. Means you’re not entirely comfortable with the refreshments on offer down there.”
    Terry let the statement hang. While Diana’s face continued to redden, Grace pushed the porcelain cup toward me without even looking in my direction. Her gaze was locked on Terry. Though the steam was swirling above the cup of coffee, promising warmth and energy all in one tasty package, I didn’t want to pull my gaze away from Terry’s face long enough to take a sip. I didn’t want to miss a thing.
    â€œWhat are you saying, Ter?” Tom asked, his voice unusually small.
    Terry shot Diana a quick glance. “I’m saying that poor man that died—and he did die, didn’t he?”
    Diana made no response. Terry continued. “That man was poisoned.”
    *   *   *
    I would call the statement a bombshell, but somehow I think bombshells ought to create noise and some measure of havoc. Terry’s theory caused a resounding silence. It seemed even the kitchen—whose noises were usually a constant background hum of clattering dishes and running water—had gone still and quiet.
    I sneaked a peek at Diana, and her eyes met mine like she was seeking a lifeline. It was a rare expression from her, and one I couldn’t ignore perhaps because of that rarity.
    I gave Terry a friendly tap with my elbow. “Heck of a theory,” I said. “But there were a lot of people in that tent. You and I were among them. If it was poison, how come we’re okay?”
    â€œPoison. Bah.” Grace produced a counter-wipe towelfrom the pocket of her ever-present apron and swiped at the counter with it. “That’s ridiculous.”
    â€œRight? Not to mention Rozelle,” I added in. “Not even possible.”
    Even Tom shook his head. “I gotta agree, Terry. That’s not something Rozelle would do. She wouldn’t hurt a mosquito, that one.”
    Terry raised a hand as though to pause the conversation. “I didn’t say anything about Rozelle. But something in that bakery—”
    â€œBut we all had that coffee yesterday,” I said. “Well, most of us had coffee anyway.” There was also tea and cocoa on offer—which is to say an urn of hot water behind tea bags and hot chocolate packets.
    â€œAnd everyone had cookies and whatnot,” Tom added. “Even you.”
    â€œCare to make another guess as to why the police are down at the bakery right now?” Terry asked.
    If there had been a back on the stool, I’m sure he would have leaned into it. He had that look of subdued pride on his face—the subtlest of smiles and a little glint in his eye.
    Diana pulled in a slow, deep breath, eyes slipping closed momentarily. “I really wish I hadn’t come in here.”
    From the open walk-through doorway separating the counter service area from the kitchen, a tall, reedy man ambled out, brown paper shopping bag in hand. He lifted the bag—handles straining against the weight of the sack—and rested it atop the counter.