A single carrot bar decorated with neatly piped orange and green icing in the shape of a carrot surrounded by crumbs sat on a plate in the center of the island, next to a half-full mug of coffee.
“Oh, no! Eric must have been poisoned!” Susan exclaimed.
“It certainly looks that way,” I agreed.
The neighborhood couple looked at us in confusion.
“Why do you think that?” the man asked.
“There was an incident at the high school yesterday. Three people were taken to the hospital, and they'd all eaten carrot bars just like that.” I pointed to the innocent-looking dessert on the island. “Anyway, the health department says it was food poisoning. Warnings have been all over the news lately.”
“We didn't hear a thing about it,” the woman said. “We spent the day putting up our Christmas lights and decorating the house.”
“Eric must not have heard about it, either,” Susan said. “I should have called to warn him.”
“There was no reason to think that Eric would eat any of these bars. I didn't see him at the fair, did you?”
“No. I'm sure he wasn't there. It's not the kind of event he'd go to, not without Natalie, anyway.”
“So you can't blame yourself, Susan. It was an accident you couldn't possibly have anticipated.”
“I suppose, but I still feel terrible.”
“We need to tell the police officer.”
“Tell me what?”
I whirled to see the officer coming into the kitchen. I pointed out the carrot bars, and he immediately understood the implication. Unlike the neighbors, he'd obviously heard the latest news.
“OK. I'll alert the coroner. You folks just stay put, and don't touch anything. It shouldn't be too much longer.”
The beagle wiggled impatiently. He wanted to get down, but the neighbor man held onto him. Despite his firm grip, the dog managed to lurch toward the countertop.
“Watch out, Jack!” his wife warned.
“Let's wait outside,” Jack said.
“The police officer said to wait here,” his wife protested, but she followed him.
We heard voices and a door closing.
From the numerous crumbs remaining on the plate, I surmised that Eric must have eaten several carrot bars. Whatever the quantity, it had evidently been enough to be lethal. I shuddered to think that Carmen and the two band members could have suffered the same fate as Eric, had they'd eaten more carrot bars.
“Well, well, well. Who have we here? If it isn't the Bobbsey twins,” a gruff voice said.
I could tell by the startled, yet resigned, expression on Susan's face that she was experiencing a déjà-vu moment. For that matter, so was I. Susan and I had been together when we'd discovered a body several months earlier, and Lieutenant Belmont, the same detective, had investigated the case. He'd treated us both like suspects and had even arrested Susan, so I knew she would have preferred to avoid seeing the lieutenant, but the grouchy detective and I had come to a sort of grudging truce after an uneasy collaboration on a murder case in September. I hadn't encountered the lieutenant since, and I was surprised to see him back at work, because he'd just had heart bypass surgery at the time.
I ignored his sarcastic remark and pointed to the plate sitting on the island's countertop. “Look at that. He must have eaten more than one of those carrot bars,” I observed.
“Still playing Nancy Drew, are we, Mrs. Trent?”
“Haven't you heard of the food poisoning at the high school yesterday?”
“Don't be ridiculous. Of course, I know about it. What are you two doing here, anyway?”
Susan took a deep breath before explaining that Eric had invited her to come to the house because he wanted to show her something but that he hadn't told her what it was.
“Why were you here?” Lieutenant Belmont asked me bluntly.
“I came along for the ride, literally. My car wouldn't start, and Susan and I were going out to dinner, so she picked me up, and here we are.”
“Enough,” the lieutenant held up his hand, much like a traffic cop signaling a driver to stop. All of a sudden, he sounded quite weary. “You can come down to the station tomorrow and give your statement to Sergeant Martinez.”
“Are you feeling all right, lieutenant?” I asked. “I'm surprised to see you back at work so soon.”
“I'm fine,” he snapped, before relenting slightly. “There's only so much TV a man can watch. I came back to work last week. Now, you two go home. I've got work to do.”
Without hesitation, we exited Eric's house by the front door.
“It figures he would be the one to investigate,” Susan groused.
“You probably won't have to see him again. He told us Dave Martinez would be taking our statements. You know, Dawn's husband.” Dawn, a clay artist, was a member of the Roadrunner.
“Oh, right. Dave's a nice guy. Too bad he has to work with Belmont.”
“They actually get along pretty well. I think Dave's the only cop at the police station who's sort of a buddy of the lieutenant. I know Dave and Dawn kept tabs on him the whole time he was recovering from surgery. I think maybe the lieutenant got in too much of a hurry to return to work. He looks pale to me.”
“You're way more charitable toward him than I am. I'll never forgive him for putting me in jail.”
“I know it was terrible.” Even though I'd observed a few cracks in his gruff exterior, I couldn't blame Susan a bit for feeling as she did. Her arrest had been completely unjustified, and even though it had happened many months ago, it wasn't something she'd ever be likely to forget, especially since she'd had to stay overnight in the county jail.
A small crowd of neighbors had gathered across the street, joined by the couple with the beagle. Next door, to the left, a family of five watched the scene from their porch while, on the other side, a woman had pulled her curtains aside to catch the action at Eric's place.
The coroner's van was parked in front of Susan's car, and a couple of police cruisers were in back of it. The patrol officer who'd arrived first on the scene was standing next to one of the cruisers, talking to another cop. As a red Mustang zipped past, pulled into Eric's driveway, and screeched to a sudden halt, we all watched to see who had arrived.
Although I'd never met them, I recognized the pair immediately as Eric's nephew Josh and his girlfriend Kayla.
“What's wrong?” Josh shouted to the policeman.
Without waiting for an answer, Josh grabbed Kayla's hand and pulled her toward the front door, but the policeman moved quickly to block their entrance.
“Sorry, sir. You can't go in there.”
“This is my uncle's house. I want to see him now!” Josh demanded, his voice raised in agitation.
“I can't let you do that, sir. Now, if you'll just wait over there, by your car, I'll let the detective know you're here, and you can speak to him.”
“Detective? What's going on? Where's my uncle?”
“Come on, Josh,” Kayla urged. She tugged at his arm, but he refused to budge.
“I'm not going anywhere until I find out what's happened,” Josh declared.
Then he noticed the next-door neighbor watching him from behind her curtain. “What are you looking at?” he yelled. “You witch!” She disappeared from view as the curtain fell back into place.
“Josh,” Susan called, beckoning him to come over to where we were standing, next to her car.
“Ms. Carpenter.” On seeing Susan, Josh took it down a notch. “Do you know why the cops are here?”
“Yes, I do, Josh. It's your Uncle Eric. We found him on the floor in the den a little while ago. I'm so sorry to tell you, but Eric's dead.”
“No way!” Josh protested. “That can't be. He was fine when we stopped by last night after the fair.”
“You didn't happen to bring him anything from the fair, did you?”
“I did,” Kayla said. “He loves carrot bars, and I saw some cute ones at the Pioneers' booth right when we were on our way out. I picked up a few for him.”
Kayla noticed that Susan and I exchanged an ah-ha look.
“What? Did I do something wrong?”