Chapter 30
“That has to be a coincidence,” I said. “There can’t be any connection.”
“But there is a link, Florrie,” said Eric. “You’re the one who saw the stolen item in Dolly’s house. There may not be a tie to Dolly’s murder, but there’s something going on there that involves a man hidden behind a bookcase and Maxwell’s missing van Gogh.”
“Do you think Olivia or Priss could have been involved in the theft?” asked Zsazsa. “Perhaps Dolly found out about it and threatened to expose them.”
“After twenty-seven years?” said Goldblum. “If that was the case, it seems like it would have happened a long time ago.”
“The man in the wall! Maybe he was the one who was going to expose them,” I said.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.” Goldblum smiled. “Anyone hungry? I could use a nosh.”
“Me, too,” said Zsazsa. She plucked at Edgar’s shirt. “Why don’t you come with us?”
“I’m kind of grungy. I think I should stop by the house and pick up some fresh clothes.”
“Excellent!” crowed Goldblum. “I would love to see the inside of Dolly’s house.”
Goldblum and Edgar rose to leave.
“I don’t think I should go there,” said Zsazsa. “My presence could be misconstrued. No, no, no. I should not go into that house. Not under any circumstances. Someone might call the police.”
“Why don’t you stay here with us?” I suggested. “When Goldblum and Edgar are done, they can meet you at a restaurant.”
“Think you could bring back some takeout?” asked Eric. “My wallet is on the bookshelf.”
“Better yet, Edgar and I will pick up something for everyone, and we’ll bring it back here.”
The two of them left and Zsazsa got up to brew tea. I felt like a terrible hostess and rushed to help her.
“How are you doing at Goldblum’s?”
“He spoils me. A five-star hotel wouldn’t do it any better.”
A snore rattled through the room. We glanced over and giggled at Eric, who had dozed off.
I preheated the oven and pulled out my mixer. “How do mini-cheesecakes sound to you?”
“I love cheesecake! I’ve been eating far too much since Dolly died and this horrible nonsense started. It’s soothing to me to eat. Isn’t that awful?”
“It’s hard on the waistline.” I pulled out the mini-cupcake baking sheet and little liners. I handed half of them to Zsazsa to insert in the pan. “We have to get to the bottom of this. Maybe we need to look at motive.”
“I have no motive to have killed Dolly. It’s preposterous that the police could imagine that I would have stolen The Florist from her and then concocted a drink to kill her.”
“Did you even enter her apartment that night?”
“We walked home from the tea room. I had paid because she forgot her purse at Color Me Read. She was still so excited about having found The Florist. Other than Maisie’s birth, I think it might have been the most exciting thing that ever happened to Dolly. Her house is on the way to my condo. I walked inside with her. She asked if I would like to have a glass of champagne to celebrate. I declined because we had already had champagne at the tea room and I had promised to edit a friend’s article that evening. I didn’t want to be giddy when I did that.”
Zsazsa sat down on a stool. “If I had stayed, Dolly might be alive today.”
“Or you would be dead, too. How long do you think you were there?”
“Just a few minutes.”
“Did you go back to Dolly’s that night?”
“No. I was home editing the article.”
“So you couldn’t have killed her. Unless you carried antifreeze around with you from the time you came to the coloring club until you arrived at Dolly’s house that evening, there’s no way you could have poisoned her.”
“I think that’s abundantly clear but that dreadful Holberstein fellow insists there are ways I could have done it.”
I suspected there were. She could have planted the antifreeze somewhere or carried it in her purse like I had described. “What does he think is your motive?”
“The Florist naturally. That makes no sense at all. I didn’t even know about the book until shortly before we came to the bookstore. Does he think I always carry antifreeze in my purse in case I feel like dispatching someone? It’s absurd.”
She was right about that. I popped two packages of cream cheese into the mixer and let it rip, wincing at the sound. I glanced over at Eric, who stretched.
I watched the mixer’s arm circle around, and it dawned on me that whoever murdered Dolly probably planned ahead. “No one knew about The Florist until Dolly brought it to Color Me Read. I wonder how many people happen to have antifreeze at home. I don’t, and I don’t think Veronica does. For that matter, I don’t think my dad has any, either. Dolly’s killer had only a few hours to buy antifreeze and concoct something he thought Dolly would willingly consume.”
“And it had to be someone she knew. Everyone would be shocked if a stranger showed up at their home offering them a drink.”
“That narrows down the field considerably,” I said, while spooning the cheesecake mixture into the little liners.
“It would have been easiest for Olivia and Priss,” said Zsazsa, “but they had an incentive to keep Dolly alive. They knew Maisie would sell the house if Dolly died, and they would lose their home.”
“Which is exactly the fix they find themselves in now.” I slid the mini-cheesecakes into the oven and set the timer. The two of us joined Eric while they baked.
I woke Eric when I slid onto the sofa next to him. “I feel just terrible for rolling you over last night. If I hadn’t—”
“Edgar would be sitting here with a burn wound instead of me.”
“Nah, he moved away. I should have pulled you in the other direction.”
“Florrie, you can’t make yourself miserable about this. No one knew where that firecracker would land. It was a fluke. It wasn’t aimed at anyone.”
I sat up. “What if it was? What if someone intended to have it land on Edgar?”
“A kid shot it off. I seriously doubt that he even knows Edgar,” said Eric.
“Nolan,” I blurted.
“You think Nolan shot off the firecracker?” asked Zsazsa. “Was he at the concert?”
“That’s not what I meant. You were there,” I said to Eric. “Remember when he fell down the stairs and said a step was slippery?”
“Right.”
“And where was that?”
Eric blinked like he was losing his patience. “In Dolly’s basement.”
“And who lives there?”
“Edgar! I see what you’re getting at. You think someone has been trying to harm Edgar?”
“Who was attacked and choked in his apartment?”
“Again, Edgar.”
“Are you implying that the killer meant for Edgar to drink the antifreeze?” asked Zsazsa.
“It sounds kind of silly when you put it that way, but what if Dolly drank something intended for Edgar?”