Cherry Chocolate Murder Read online

  “Do you think they found anything?” Nick asked.

  ”Don’t know. They didn’t take anything from my room except my trash. Can’t imagine why they’d want that.”

  “What kinds of questions did they ask?” Bitsie asked. She just couldn’t help herself.

  “They wanted to know if Malcolm had any enemies,” Roscoe replied. “Had he recently argued with anyone? That sort of thing.”

  “Had he?” Nick asked.

  “Yes. He’s had so many conflicts with people around here; it’s hard to know where to start with whose bad side he’s gotten on.”

  “Oh? For example:”

  “Well, he and I don’t get along too well for a start, and I suspect most people think I’m the best friend he’s got. I certainly spend more time with him than anyone else does.”

  “I know you argue at cards,” said Bitsie, “but is there more to it than that?”

  “The arguing over cards is all part of the fun, at least as far as I’m concerned,” Roscoe replied, “but Malcolm and I did have a serious bust-up a few days ago over Lavinia.”

  “What happened?” asked Nick.

  “Well, I basically told him to back off or else!”

  “Or else what?” Nick demanded.

  “I don’t know. I was so mad that I told him that I’d do whatever it took to keep him away from Lavinia,” said Roscoe defiantly. “I didn’t have a plan; it’s just one of those things a person says when they get so steamed up, they aren’t thinking straight.”

  “Well, let’s hope that Malcolm didn’t take what you said as a serious threat,” said Nick. “If that cupcake turns out to have been poisoned, saying something like that could make you a prime suspect.”

  “I know,” said Roscoe, deflating. “But I really didn’t mean anything by it. I may not be overly fond of the fellow, but I’d never do anything to hurt him.”

  “Who else did Malcolm argue with recently?” asked Bitsie.

  “Everyone from the serving ladies in the dining room to the cleaning staff, and that’s not counting the residents,” Roscoe answered. “Nobody likes the cranky old coot.”

  “Anyone in particular stand out?” asked Bitsie.

  Roscoe hesitated for a moment before motioning to Nick to close the door to his room.

  “There is,” he said in a low voice after the door was shut. “There’s a male CNA that Malcolm’s taken a particular dislike to.”

  “Why?” asked Bitsie.

  “Well, this guy isn’t anybody’s favorite,” said Roscoe. “He’s rough and impatient, and I personally wouldn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him, but—“

  “But what?” Bitsie prodded.

  “Well, Malcolm filed a formal complaint against this guy a couple of weeks ago. Don’t know if it was merited or not. I wouldn’t be surprised either way. James could have done what Malcolm claimed he’d done, or Malcolm might have made it up, just to get back at James.”

  “This CNA’s name is James?”

  “Yeah. James Johnson. Anyway, Malcolm’s made numerous verbal complaints about James, but I guess the last straw was when James threatened to smother him with a pillow in his sleep if Malcolm didn’t stop bad-mouthing him.”

  “Wow!” said Bitsie. “You think that really happened?”

  “I have no way of knowing if Malcolm is telling the truth. The staff don’t seem to have taken his complaint very seriously. James denied making any threat against Malcolm, and the powers-that-be seem to have taken his word for it. I guess it’s a case of crying wolf once too often. Malcolm is the sort of guy who constantly complains about everything and thinks everyone is out to get him.”

  “What’s your gut tell you?” Bitsie asked Roscoe.

  “My gut is silent on this one.”

  “Did anyone hear James threatening Malcolm?” Bitsie asked.

  “Malcolm claims Clarence Crake, who lives across the hall from him, heard it all, but Clarence swears that he didn’t hear a thing.”

  “What’s Clarence like?” Nick asked.

  “Clarence is hard to read,” said Roscoe. “He keeps to himself. He’s been a lot friendlier lately, though. I guess he’s taken a liking to me. He’s started coming in to see me every morning right after breakfast. He doesn’t stay long. Just shoots the breeze for a few minutes, and then goes back to his room and doesn’t come out until the next meal. After supper, he likes to go to the common room, but he doesn’t really talk to anybody. He likes to play chess. He sets up the board and plays against himself. Always plays one game after supper and then goes to his room again.”

  “Is there anyone else in particular who might have had a grudge against Malcolm,” Nick asked.

  “The only other person that I can think of is this woman who’s had a tremendous crush on Malcolm ever since the day she moved in. Ruby Sheers. You met her yesterday.”

  “She seemed so sweet, though,” said Bitsie. She had a hard time believing that such a cute bubbly little gray-haired lady would be capable of poisoning anyone.

  “She did seem sweet to you, didn’t she?” said Roscoe. “But don’t be taken in by her. Some days she’s like that, other days, well—“

  “Is she not all right in the head or something?” asked Nick.

  “You could say that,” Roscoe answered. “You never know which version of Ruby you’re going to get. My theory is that she’s always been like that, and now, on top of whatever has always been off-kilter upstairs, she’s going senile.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, she’s taken to stealing things. I talked to her daughter about it, when she came to visit last week, and it’s something that’s started quite recently. The daughter thinks that Ruby just picks stuff up and sticks it in her pockets, and half the time she doesn’t even realize that she’s taking things that don’t belong to her.”

  “But what makes you think Ruby might have tried to harm Malcolm?” Bitsie asked.

  “Ah, something happened last week. She bugged Malcolm one too many times. Malcolm’s head-over-heels for Lavinia, so Ruby never had a chance with him anyway. But I guess Malcolm finally came right out and told Ruby to leave him alone. Told her he didn’t want to ever speak to her again. He followed that up by saying that he didn’t care to see her ugly face again in this world or the next. All that made Ruby really mad, of course. There was a lot of yelling and screaming and flinging stuff around. A couple of the nurses came to sedate her, but before they managed to subdue her enough to stick a needle in her Ruby threatened Malcolm.”

  “What did she say to him?”

  “’If I can’t have you, no one can,’” said Roscoe, “or something to that effect. I wasn’t there. I just heard about it from Lavinia.”

  “What do you think?” Bitsie asked Nick as they pulled out of the parking lot of Shady Grove.

  “Well, I’m sure Granddad didn’t do it,” said Nick. “Other than that—“

  “We don’t even know for sure that Malcolm was poisoned,” Bitsie pointed out. “By the way, did you ever find out why Roscoe had to go to the clinic the other day?”

  “Yeah. He was having trouble with his heart. His blood pressure was sky-high. The doctor seems to think Granddad hasn’t been taking his medication regularly, but Granddad swears up and down he hasn’t missed a single dose.”

  “You don’t think he’s getting forgetful, do you?”

  “Granddad? No way. It’s not like him to lie about something like that, either. He’ll refuse to divulge information if he thinks somebody is too nosey, but he’s never been one to outright lie.”

  “Strange.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “Think we should go visit Malcolm?”

  “Guess it wouldn’t hurt anything.”

  Bitsie and Nick did not get around to visiting Malcolm until two days later, and by that time, he’d been released from the hospital and was back at Shady Grove.

  Malcolm did not seem happy to see them. He was still in
his pajamas and sitting up in bed, which was an odd choice for the middle of the afternoon. Since the hospital had seen fit to release him the day after they admitted him, Bitsie couldn’t help wondering if Malcolm was milking his near-death experience for all it was worth by playing the invalid.

  “Came to see if he finished me off yet, eh?” said Malcolm as they walked into the room.

  Bitsie and Nick both wisely ignored the comment.

  “How are you feeling?” Nick asked.

  “Well, I’m not dead, although I guess that’ll make some people unhappy.”

  “Certainly not,” Bitsie insisted, knowing it was a lie. Apparently, there was no shortage of people who’d consider Malcolm Smith’s death a considerable improvement to their quality of life.

  “We brought you some crossword puzzle books,” said Bitsie. “Roscoe said you liked those.”

  “Did he?” Malcolm threw her a surly look and refused to extend his hand to accept the proffered puzzle books. Bitsie ignored his rudeness and placed the books on the table beside his bed.

  “Are you happy to be back home?” asked Nick.

  “Home?”

  “Back at Shady Grove.”

  “Shady Cess Pool is more like it,” said Malcolm. “Terrible place. I don’t know where they find the no-good losers they call nurses.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” Nick protested. “Granddad says—“

  “He would, wouldn’t he?” spat out Malcolm. “Got those nurses wrapped around his little finger. I can’t get so much as clean sheets, but they’re up in his room at all hours—“

  Bitsie suspected that there was some truth to Malcolm’s complaint. Of course, the staff ignored him whenever they could; he was just so unpleasant to be around. She didn’t doubt that Roscoe got a lot more attention from the staff.

  “Roscoe sent you, didn’t he?” Malcolm demanded.

  “No, he didn’t,” said Bitsie. “He doesn’t even know we’re here.”

  “We just wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing,” Nick added.

  “He tried to kill me, you know,” said Malcolm.

  “Who tried to kill you?” Bitsie asked. She knew she shouldn’t encourage Malcolm’s ravings, but she was curious to know just who he held responsible for his collapse.

  “Your grandfather!” said Malcolm, pointing an accusing finger at Nick.

  “I’m sure he didn’t!” said Nick.

  “Well, somebody did!” Malcolm retorted.

  “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” said Bitsie.

  “Who tried to kill me?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that,” said Bitsie. “Until the results come back from the lab, no one knows for sure if you collapsed because there was something in that cupcake.”

  “What happened when you collapsed?” Nick asked.

  “Well, I was just sitting there, eating my cupcake when I started feeling all woozy and short of breath. Then I got these weird muscle cramps in both my legs,” said Malcolm. “It wasn’t long after that when I felt like I might pass out, so I told Roscoe to go get a nurse. That nurse is so lazy—they’re all lazy—it took her forever to get there. Not long after that blasted nurse finally showed up, I fainted. Didn’t wake up again until I was at the hospital.”

  “Are you sure it was the cupcake that made you faint?” Bitsie asked.

  “Of course, it was the cupcake! I’m not like that wuss Clarence who’s always falling down and foaming at the mouth ‘cause he’s had some diabetic fit.”

  “I wasn’t aware that diabetics foamed at the mouth.” Bitsie couldn’t help herself.

  “Ok. Maybe he doesn’t foam at the mouth, but it seems like he’s passing out every time I turn around.”

  “Because of his diabetes?”

  “I guess. He says it’s his diabetes, but I think he does it for attention. He’s such a—“

  Bitsie decided there was nothing to be gained by allowing Malcolm to carry on insulting his fellow-resident, so she asked, “Did you notice right away there was something wrong with the cupcake?”

  “I tasted the poison,” Malcolm insisted. “When I took the second bite, it tasted bitter.”

  “Did you spit it out?” Bitsie asked.

  “No,” Malcolm looked embarrassed. “I couldn’t. There was a lady present.”

  Of course, thought Bitsie. Miss Lavinia Fay had been sitting there, possibly right beside Malcolm, and he’d been too embarrassed to spit out the tainted cupcake. Normally, she suspected, Malcolm would have spit the whole thing out and made a terrible fuss about it, but love has a powerful influence over even the most uncouth.

  “Did you see it?” asked Bitsie. “Could you see what the bitter stuff was inside the cupcake?”

  “After that second bite, I didn’t eat any more of it. There were little bits of yellow,” said Malcolm. He turned to point a finger at Nick again. “Lots of little bits of yellow, just like crushed-up pills. There was more yellow powder in that bite than there was cupcake, and they were exactly the same color as your grandfather’s heart pills.”

  “Do you think it’s really possible it was Roscoe’s heart pills that got into that cupcake,” Bitsie asked Nick, as they stood in the parking lot of the hospital.

  “I don’t see how they could have been,” said Nick. “And even if it turns out to be what was in that cupcake, I refuse to believe Granddad would have been the one who put them there.”

  “It’s really bothering me, though.”

  “What is?”

  “It’s really bothering me what the doctor said about Roscoe not having been taking his medication regularly.”

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t tell me you’re playing detective again,” said Bitsie’s brother Stan. “Are you really sure you want to get involved with this one, seeing as how you and Nick are—“

  Stan failed to finish his sentence, and Bitsie suspected that Liz had given him nudge under the table.

  “Great pasta!” said Liz, transparently changing the subject. “What’s the herb in the pesto? Tarragon?”

  “Yeah, I have a big plant out front. I dried some last summer.”

  Bitsie loved her garden. Her cottage might be tiny, but the back yard made up for it. Even though it was November, it was a mild day, and the paving stones of the patio reflected back the midday sun. It was the perfect place for an alfresco Sunday lunch, even though it was almost winter.

  Max appreciated the sun, too, but he declined to come outside. He lay in a pool of sunshine just inside the French doors, watching the humans stuff themselves with pasta.

  “Back to this poisoned cupcake business,” said Stan, refusing to let the matter drop.

  “Don’t tell him anything! It’s bad enough that you have gotten involved,” Liz said to Bitsie.

  “I’m not really that involved,” Bitsie insisted.

  “Oh, I know my little sister,” Stan interjected. “Where there’s a murder, there’s Bitsie.”

  “But there hasn’t actually been a murder,” Bitsie said. “And don’t worry, Liz. I’m not going to try to involve Stan.”

  “I know I haven’t told you this yet, Liz, but it turns out I may already be involved,” said Stan. “With or without Bitsie’s interference.”

  “Why?” Liz demanded.

  “Jones was assigned to the case,” Stan said, “but his wife just had a baby, so they asked me to do a little part-time work on the investigation while he’s out on paternity leave.”

  “Humph!” said Liz.

  “Surely, you don’t object to people having babies?” Stan looked at his wife mischievously. “I was under the impression that you’ve always been very pro-baby.”

  “So you’re saying there’s officially an open investigation?” Bitsie asked. “When are the results coming back from the lab, do you know?”

  Bitsie didn’t mention Malcolm’s suspicions about Roscoe’s heart medication, and she realized that was a problem. Stan was right; she was too c
lose to the situation to be impartial. Her own brother was investigating a possible crime, and her first instinct was to withhold information. That couldn’t be a good thing.

  “The lab results won’t come back for another two weeks,” said Stan. “But, in the meantime, feel free to hang around Shady Grove. See if you can get any of the old folks to spill the beans. You have a way of getting people to talk that an officer in uniform—or out of uniform—just can’t replicate.”

  “You’re treating this as attempted murder, then?” asked Bitsie.

  “I know there’s no proof yet, but I’m sure that Malcolm Smith’s collapse wasn’t just a coincidence. I saw photos of that cupcake in the case-file, and it had definitely been tampered with. It was obvious that someone had hollowed out the center. Looked like they mushed up the cake they’d dug out together with the powder and stuffed it back into the middle. Then they took some frosting—the color didn’t even match—and stuck the cupcake back together. It was a very sloppy job.”

  “It certainly does seem like someone was trying to harm Malcolm,” Bitsie agreed.

  “But whether that someone intended to kill Malcolm Smith or just to make him sick,” Stan added, “That we don’t know. In some cases, like this one, the person who ends up getting poisoned wasn’t even the intended victim.”

  Anabel came back to work the next day wearing a turtleneck sweater, something Bitsie had never seen her do before. Anabel usually favored open necklines. In fact, on several occasions, Anabel had complained that she didn’t even like to wear a scarf around her neck in the dead of winter. It made her feel like she couldn’t breathe, she’d said.

  “I hope you’re feeling better,” said Bitsie. “Whatever’s going around is really nasty. My hairdresser said she was down with chills and fever for an entire week.”

  “I’m fine,” Anabel insisted. She did look fine. She hadn’t lost weight, and she didn’t look feverish. There wasn’t even any sign that she’d had any nasal congestion.

  “How’s James?” asked Bitsie. “When are we going to get to meet him?”