On my walk home, I realized that Thomas and I shared a new comradery. For some reason, we’d always felt like adversaries, though it wasn’t clear what we were on the opposite sides of. I suppose there was some academic jealousy on my part. He was the young professor I’d always thought I’d be, camel-hair coats and all. And I was just me, immersed in a mystery and now a love story that was all-consuming. I realized life was becoming more interesting than my career, and I was fine with that. Although the career part was heating up too, with my book about to be published. Which reminded me, I wanted to check my email before Lenny arrived to take me to the hospital.
I hustled inside and grabbed my laptop from the coffee table. Like a notice of a library fine, a new book cover was waiting for me to open it, to see how much I would pay for my remarks to Owen. A great deal, from the looks of it. A fleshy woman sat on a garden bench with a book in her lap, her eyes half open. Was she waking from a nap? Hung over? It was hard to tell. She certainly wasn’t writing.
A honk sounded outside, and I shut my laptop. The cover would need all my attention … later. Right now, I needed to figure out what was going on with Andy. I grabbed my jacket and hurried out the front door.
“Wait until you see my new cover,” I said, buckling my seatbelt. “Owen emailed me another mock-up.”
“Better?” said Lenny, pulling away from the curb.
“Worse.”
Lenny gave me a look. “You’re exaggerating.”
“There’s cleavage.”
“Oh god.” He turned onto one of the two main streets in town. “I thought you’d made progress.”
“I thought so, too. I did make progress with Thomas, though.” I told him about the handwriting analysis and Lydia.
“I always wondered why he came here from the East Coast,” said Lenny. “It makes perfect sense.”
“I think I can use what he said about the killer’s handwriting. If the person habitually writes in all-caps, he or she should be easier to locate. Some evidence must exist on campus.”
Lenny shut off the car in the hospital parking lot. “There’s something personal about all this that I don’t like.”
“It’s your feelings for me, that’s all.” Lenny knitted his dark eyebrows in concentration as I tried to explain. “We’re dating now. It’s normal for you to feel more protective of me and I of you.”
“Chasing criminals is not normal,” said Lenny. “I’m not dating a cop. I’m dating an English professor.”
“One who was asked by her chair to investigate.” I squeezed his hand then reached for the door. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
We walked into the hospital and up to Andy’s room, where Felix waited outside. The nurses were running another test on Andy. I told Felix that Giles would be up after his class, and he thanked me and Lenny for all our help.
“Andy isn’t getting better, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s on purpose,” I said, deciding there was no reason not to tell Felix my theory. If he was the one causing Andy’s illness, he would know I was on to him and stop. If he wasn’t responsible, he might be able to help me figure out who was.
“What are you saying?” said Felix, his hawk eyes narrowing. “He’s making himself sick on purpose?”
“Not at all. I’m saying someone else may be making him sick on purpose.”
“Rubbish,” said Felix. “Why would anyone want to do that? We don’t know a person in town.”
“Em thinks Andy might know something about Tanner’s murder,” said Lenny. “That’s why we’re here. She’s hoping to talk to him, to see if we can determine what it is he knows, and whether that it is enough to make the killer strike again.”
Felix shook his head. “Impossible. He’s much worse than yesterday. He’s incoherent.” He took a step closer to us. “Personally, I think the doctors are running out of ideas. If they don’t figure out what’s going on soon, I’m worried Andy will die.”
The nurse stepped out of Andy’s room. It was Zeb, Lenny’s old student.
“Can I go back in now?” asked Felix.
“Sure,” said Zeb. “The tech is just finishing up.”
After Felix was gone, Lenny asked Zeb how Andy was doing.
“Not good,” said Zeb. “His kidneys are failing.”
A woman came closer with a food tray. Lenny’s eyes were on the tray.
“So, not food poisoning?” asked Lenny.
“Not food poisoning,” said Zeb, stopping the food ambassador from making her delivery. He told her Andy wouldn’t be eating. “The doctors think it’s something else. Do you have any idea what he might have gotten into? Anything at the school … a pesticide or chemical?”
“Not a clue,” said Lenny.
Gotten into. Chemical. An alarm went off in my head. It was the same words the vet had used when Dickinson had become ill three years ago. They asked if she might have wandered into a garage. Antifreeze was poisonous to pets—and people. That’s when it clicked. “I do.”
They turned to me in surprise.
“I think he was poisoned with antifreeze,” I said.
“And you figured this out when?” asked Lenny.
“Just this second,” I said. “Listen. Today is garbage day, and I noticed a container of antifreeze in Mrs. Gunderson’s garbage. I’ve thought of it on and off all morning. You know she doesn’t drive, so why was it there?” I turned to Zeb. “When you mentioned ‘getting into’ something, I remembered what the vet said a few years ago. He said my cat might have gotten into antifreeze from an open garage. Alcohol was the antidote, which might explain why Andy isn’t dead. He was drinking the night he got sick.”
“I always knew alcohol was a good thing,” said Lenny.
“It makes sense,” said Zeb, turning over the hypothesis.
“You think the person who poisoned Andy dumped the evidence in Mrs. Gunderson’s garbage?” said Lenny.
“Think about it,” I said. “The person had to do something with the evidence. Why not put it in an old lady’s recycling bin?”
“Especially if she lives right down the street,” said Lenny.
“Exactly,” I said. “Mia lives a block away. Either it’s her, or someone who wants me to think it’s her.”
Zeb grabbed his phone. “Stay here. I’m calling the doctor.”
While Zeb made the call, Lenny asked, “Why would someone poison Andy? Like Felix said, they don’t know anybody in town.”
“It’s just like we thought,” I said. “He must know something about Tanner’s murder, something he doesn’t know he knows.”
Zeb returned. “We’re running a blood test. If it’s positive, we’ll start Antizol right away.”
“You’ve run a thousand blood tests already,” said Lenny. “Why didn’t antifreeze show up?”
“Because you have to look for it,” said Zeb. “You have to test for it specifically.”
“If the test is positive, will Andy be okay?” I asked.
“Probably,” said Zeb. “Antizol works within three hours. The worry is he’ll sustain permanent organ damage.” His phone rang. “I need to take this. I’ll let you know what happens.”
“I’m going to call Sophie,” I said after Zeb left. “She needs to get over to Mrs. Gunderson’s house and pick up that container before it’s too late.”
“Good idea,” said Lenny. “I’m going to see if I can snag one of those food trays.”
I pulled out my phone. “Really?”
“I didn’t eat lunch.”
Watching Lenny stalk the food ambassador, I dialed Sophie’s direct number, and she answered on the second ring. I told her what I’d found this morning and the connection to Andy’s mysterious illness. She agreed to go to Mrs. Gunderson’s house.
“When will you know for certain it’s antifreeze poisoning?” asked Sophie. She was typing on her keyboard.
“Soon,” I said. “They are running the blood test now.”
The typing stopped. “Antifreeze poisoning: clumsiness, nausea, vomiting, slurred speech. It sounds like what you’re describing.”
It also described Tanner the night of his death. The only difference was that Tanner hadn’t been drinking; there was no alcohol to hinder the poison’s efficacy. The murderer used the same poison with different results. Imagine the killer’s surprise to find Andy still alive. “Sophie, you need to contact the medical examiner. I think we’ve just found what killed Tanner Sparks.”