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I’d told Denise I had ideas to pursue, to convince her that we needed more time before going to the authorities.
It was a lie.
I thought about the situation on and off throughout the day, between popping in at different activities, finalizing the calendar I was currently working on, and sending off reports for Anne to approve.
And I kept coming up empty-handed.
Sure, I could go and talk to Mary, ask her about her supposed fiancés and demand to know why she’d lied to people about being engaged. But that seemed like a rather combative way to go about getting information, and I wasn’t convinced she would be forthcoming about anything if she really was the one who had poisoned Arthur and now knew she was under suspicion for doing it.
What did that leave me?
I didn’t know. It wasn’t like I went around trying to solve murder mysteries in my spare time. Heck, I’d barely been able to figure out directions on how to build the IKEA furniture that filled my bedroom at home.
I skipped meals again, despite the fact that Lola had dropped way down on my suspect list. I was still a little uneasy about eating food in the dining room, and probably would be until we’d either given up on Arthur’s case or we’d found the person responsible for spiking his food.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was ready to leave. I knew I was one day down on my countdown calendar with Denise, but I was also starving and I knew that looking for new clues would be a lot like looking for a parking spot close to the beach on the 4th of July. I wasn’t going to find any.
With my office safely locked and my purse slung over my shoulder, I headed out into the hallway.
And froze.
Because twenty feet ahead, two women were engaged in a heated conversation.
Ruth and Mary.
As quietly as I could, I unlocked my door and slipped back into my office. I stayed close to the hall, my ear parallel to the doorframe, and strained to hear what they were saying.
“—fault for ruining my chances,” Mary was saying.
“My fault?” Ruth squeaked.
“If you hadn’t been so dogged in your pursuit of him, he would have been able to concentrate on me!” Mary exclaimed. “And we could have gotten married!”
“You are so daft,” Ruth told her.
“I am not.” I could hear the anger in Mary’s voice.
“Arthur liked my attention,” Ruth said.
“You are the one who is daft,” Mary retorted. “He tolerated you.”
Ruth let out a little gasp. “Tolerated?”
“He didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Mary sniffed loudly, and I could imagine the prim expression on her face. “He didn’t want to throw our engagement in your face.”
“Why, I never—”
“But he was never interested in you,” Mary continued in a steely voice. “Despite your attempts to seduce him.”
My eyes widened. Seduce? Unwanted images flashed through my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make them go away. Those were pictures I did not want to see. Ever.
“It’s not my fault Arthur dragged his feet over you,” Ruth snapped. “Maybe he came to his senses. Realized he didn’t want to be coerced into a relationship. And realized the last thing he wanted was to marry a psychopath whose only goal in life was to find a man to marry.”
It was Mary’s turn to gasp.
I debated stepping out into the hallway and putting an end to their fight. It was looking like a very real possibility that it would soon devolve into hair pulling and scratching.
“Well, at least I didn’t scare a man into getting a restraining order!”
I stayed put. A restraining order?
“That...that was all a misunderstanding.” Ruth sounded defensive. “Even Dexter would say that.”
I straightened. Dexter? Dexter Levine?
I knew Dexter...or at least I knew of him. He was a resident at Oasis Ridge, very active in the drama club I’d started.
Was he the Dexter these two women were talking about?
And if so, what had Ruth done to him that was so bad he felt he needed a restraining order?
I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out.