Read Online Christietown by Susan Kandel - Free Book Online Page A

turned this way and that. She looked a wreck. She’d brought no evening clothes. But she could certainly go downstairs and have a refreshment. There was no harm in that. Archie was always after her to watch her weight, but he wasn’t here to slap her hand away.
    The Happy Hydro Boys played nightly in the Winter Garden Ballroom. There was a colorful poster in the lobby vitrine: “Enjoy the inimitable Harry Codd on violin, Frank Brown and Bob Tap-pin on drums, Reg Schofield on piano, Bob Leeming on saxophone, and Albert Whiteley on the banjo.” A Miss Corbett accompanied the Hydro Boys as a singer.
    The ballroom was half-filled. Agatha took a small banquette in the corner and picked up a newspaper crossword someone had left behind.
    Two across: synonym for “discerning,” nine letters.
    Oracular? No, that was eight letters.
    Sibylline?
    A perfect fit.
    In Roman mythology, Sibyl was the prophetess who dwelt near Cumae, in southern Italy. She became immortal, but after refus ing Apollo’s advances, was condemned to endless old age. Oh yes, thought Agatha, I could write a story about that.
    She watched the couples on the dance floor over the top of her Herald . Enough wallowing. She’d loved dancing ever since she was a girl taking lessons at the Athenaeum Rooms, over the con fectioner’s shop. Now the band began to play, “Yes, We Have No Bananas.” What fun! She put down the paper and found herself among so many others, all dancing the Charleston.
    It was a lovely evening.
    The loveliest evening she’d had in so long.
    Back in her room, she undressed and arranged her things.
    A comb.
    A hot-water bottle.
    A small photograph of her little girl.
    And a bottle of laudanum, which bore the label of a Torquay chemist and a picture of a skull and crossbones.
    C HAPTER 1 1
    oisoned?” I sank down on the couch, bewildered. “How
    can that be? I don’t understand.”
    Mariposa chewed on the back of his pen. “Here’s the gen eral scenario: perp gives bad juice to victim, bad juice kills ’em. That make it any clearer?”
    “For Pete’s sake!” McAllister shook his head in disgust, then turned to me. “There was foxglove in Liz Berman’s allergy pills.”
    Jackie’s milky face fell. “Richard, didn’t we talk to the florist about foxglove centerpieces?”
    Mariposa said, “Bad idea. The toxin’s located in the sap, flowers, seeds, and leaves.”
    Richard stood up abruptly. “We have to go now. Jackie?”
    She leapt to her feet like an obedient puppy.
    “Do you need us, Detective?” Dot asked hopefully.
    “I don’t think so, ma’am,” McAllister replied.
    I was actually sorry to see them go.
    “So where were we?” Mariposa asked. Now he was flipping his pen around like a majorette with a tiny baton.
    McAllister closed his eyes. “We were about to question Ms. Caruso about Mrs. Berman’s activities this morning.”
    “Please, sit down,” I said to them.
    They sat down, then McAllister prompted, “You were saying?”
    “Me?” I asked. “I wasn’t saying anything. I have nothing to say about Liz’s activities. I never even saw her this morning.”
    “But you were expecting her, is that correct?”
    “Yes,” I replied. “She was the star of my play. I was upset that she wasn’t there, like she was supposed to be, mostly because I was counting on her. It never dawned on me that something could be wrong.”
    McAllister cocked his head to the side. “Where was Lou all this time?”
    “He was at the Blue Boar. With the other members of the cast. By the time I got there, he was frantic.”
    “What time was that exactly?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. I wasn’t wearing a watch. Maybe ten?”
    “Go on,” he said, nodding.
    “He was shouting. He was upset.”
    “Why?”
    “Why do you think? Because his wife had disappeared!”
    “Why would he have thought that?”
    I got up and started pacing. “She’d left their house before he had, so she should’ve shown up at Christietown long before