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“T
he smell in here is making me sick,” Jackie said.
“Me too.” I propped the kitchen door open with a chair. “Can you open that window over the sink?”
Jackie scrambled over to the window, as eager as I was to get some fresh air into the room. “Huh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Check this out.”
Clear plastic film had been placed over the window.
“I guess Ms. Pridemore is already preparing for winter,” I said. “Hopefully, the kitchen door will let enough air in to dispel whatever that is lingering in the air.” I returned to Ms. Pridemore’s side and continued trying to revive her. Her pulse was faint.
Jackie and I were relieved when the EMTs arrived. They immediately administered oxygen to Ms. Pridemore and loaded her into the ambulance. After a brief, whispered conversation, one of the paramedics decided to stay behind with Jackie and me while the other two transported Ms. Pridemore to the hospital. The paramedic who stayed behind phoned the sheriff’s office.
“In cases like this where there could be a gas leak or something of that nature, we always report it to the sheriff,” the young man told us. “Would the two of you mind remaining here until the sheriff or a deputy arrives?”
We told him we’d stay, and then all three of us stepped outside. I phoned Ryan and explained what had happened. I could hear Jackie speaking with Roger.
Sheriff Billings, a tall, lanky man with a solemn demeanor, arrived within ten minutes. He got out of the car and strode to the paramedic. “What did you find?”
“Elderly woman unconscious at her kitchen table. Lips and fingernails showed cyanosis. Weak pulse.” He nodded toward Jackie and me. “These ladies opened the kitchen door to air out the room because they noticed a strong odor when they arrived.”
The sheriff nodded. “Ms. Flowers, why were you here?”
“Ms. Pridemore called and asked me to bring her some food.”
“I put the box in the refrigerator,” Jackie added.
“Sheriff, I believe you know my cousin, Jackie Fonseca?”
“I do. Ms. Fonseca, I’ll get your statement in a moment.” He turned his attention back to me. “When did the Down South Café start a delivery service?”
“This was a one-time thing.” I explained how Ms. Pridemore had called and requested the food for tomorrow. “Had I realized the Ostermanns—who were at the café for the farmers’ market—were tenants on Ms. Pridemore’s land, I’d have simply asked them to make the delivery for me.”
“Nevertheless, you came to deliver food,” said Sheriff Billings. “Walk me through what happened when you arrived.”
I told him how Jackie and I had called Ms. Pridemore to let her know we were here and that when she didn’t answer, we knocked on the door. “She didn’t answer the front door, so we came around to the kitchen door. Of course, she didn’t respond to our knocking on that door either...but we had all that food...” I watched his face carefully, but his expression didn’t change. “So I opened the door and called to her.”
“Was the door locked?”
“No, sir. I wouldn’t have opened it if it had been.”
“Amy was simply making every effort to reach this woman before we left,” Jackie said. “And it was a good thing—had we not, Ms. Pridemore would be dead right now.”
“Again, Ms. Fonseca, I’ll take your statement momentarily.” Sheriff Billings gave the paramedic a curt nod, and the young man came over to speak with Jackie. He tried to lead her away from us, but Jackie stood firmly in her spot.
Sheriff Billings took my arm and turned me toward the house. “All right. You opened the door. Then what?”
“The first thing I noticed—after seeing Ms. Pridemore there at the table, of course—was the odor. It gave me a headache almost immediately.”
“And what did it smell like?” he asked.
“Musty...like the room had been shut up for ages.”
“Continue.”
I related how Jackie and I had gone inside and checked on Ms. Pridemore. “I couldn’t rouse her, but I took her pulse and could tell she was still alive. While Jackie called for help, I looked around to see what might’ve caused Ms. Pridemore to collapse.”
“Did you find anything?” he asked.
“Just an empty Dutch oven on a burner. I turned the stove off and placed the pot in the sink. Then I propped the kitchen door open to get some fresh air circulating. I asked Jackie to open the window, but there was a clear sheet of plastic over it, so she didn’t disturb it.”
Before Sheriff Billings could question me further, Harry Ostermann and his wife Nadine scrambled into the kitchen. Nadine’s long brown hair was disheveled, and her eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Where’s...Gladys?” Nadine asked as she caught her breath. “Harry Junior said he saw an ambulance leaving.”
“And you are?” Sheriff Billings asked.
“I’m Nadine Ostermann. This is my husband Harry. We live here on the property.”
“Ms. Flowers, would you please ask Ms. Fonseca to come inside, please? You may wait for her out there.” He nodded toward the yard. “Ms. Ostermann, I’ll want to speak with you and your husband later, but Ms. Pridemore has been taken to the hospital.”
“Wh-what happened?” Nadine asked. “Will she be all right?”
“We’re not sure what happened, and I’m not aware of the severity of her condition.”
I plodded over to Jackie and the paramedic. “Jackie, Sheriff Billings would like to talk with you.” I gave the paramedic a half smile. “You get to babysit me now.”
When Jackie went inside, I closed my eyes and ran my hand over my face.
“I’m sure this ordeal has been upsetting for you,” the paramedic said softly.
“It has. I’ve never even met Ms. Pridemore. I came here for the first time today.” I examined him a little closer and estimated him to be no more than twenty-three. “How long have you been doing this job?”
“Five years,” he said.
“Do you think Ms. Pridemore will be all right?”
He lowered his eyes and shook his head.
AFTER SHERIFF BILLINGS cleared us all to leave, he and the Ostermanns went to the hospital. The paramedic caught a ride with the sheriff. I dropped Jackie off at the café because that’s where we’d left her car.
“See you tomorrow.” She stepped out of the car but turned back almost immediately. “Wait. We never decided what to make tomorrow.”
Every Sunday, Jackie and I prepared lunch for Mom and Aunt Bess. It was our traditional weekly gathering.
“Let’s just make spaghetti and meatballs,” I said. “And we’ll take the key lime pie and the rest of the coconut pie we took to my house for dessert. It’s not fancy, but it’ll work.”
“I’ll stop on my way and get us a baguette from the grocery store.”
“Thanks. I can make herbed butter.” I smiled. “I’m sorry we walked into a disaster, but I’m glad you went with me.”
“Me too. Have fun with Ryan and his mom.”
“Yeah...well...wish me luck.”
When I got home, I heard Rory’s feet pounding the floor before I even got my key in the lock. I couldn’t help but grin at the dog’s unbridled enthusiasm, but I braced myself as I pushed open the door.
The little brown terrier jumped at me. I caught him in my arms and kissed the top of his scruffy head. He licked my chin.
I sat him back onto the floor and tossed my purse on the chair. “Did you have a good day?”
In answer, Rory ran through the room to the kitchen and back. I laughed.
Princess Eloise, a white Persian cat, strolled from the kitchen to the living room. Her head and tail were held imperiously high. She had been Mom’s cat before Mom had gone to live with Aunt Bess. Unfortunately, Aunt Bess’s allergies had prevented Mom from taking Princess Eloise with her. But the cat and I got along all right. Or, at least, the princess tolerated me and allowed me to do her bidding.
I fed both pets before sinking onto the sofa. I’d have loved nothing more than a nap, but I knew I needed to get ready to go to dinner with Ryan and his mother.
Before I could hoist myself off the couch to go shower and change, my phone rang. The number was unfamiliar.
“Hello,” I answered hesitantly.
“Amy, hi, this is Ivy Donaldson. Sheriff Billings gave me your number.”
“Hi, Ivy. What can I do for you?”
I knew Ivy was the crime scene investigator for the Winter Garden Sheriff’s Department, and I’d seen her at the café a few times, but I had no idea why she’d be calling me.
“Gladys Pridemore is in a coma, and an electrolyte panel indicated a high level of carbon dioxide in her blood. Sheriff Billings told me you turned off the victim’s stove and that you began to suffer a headache after you’d gone into the kitchen.”
“That’s right.”
“Would you be able to go with me to the Pridemore house?” she asked.
I hesitated.
Before I could answer, Ivy continued. “I’m sorry. I know you had plans with Ryan, but the sheriff has already spoken with him and explained the gravity of this situation. I need to know exactly where everything was positioned when you walked into that room.”
“All right.”
“Thanks. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
After hanging up with Ivy, I called Ryan and told him I didn’t know when I’d be able to get away.
“That’s fine. I understand as well as anyone that when duty calls, you have to answer,” he said. “Sheriff Billings said you had a headache earlier?”
“Yeah, it’s easing. I think it was caused by the odor in that house.”
“From what he told me, he thinks there was a gas leak. Be careful when you and Ivy go back in there.”
“I might grab a light snack before I leave,” I said.
“Go ahead and eat,” Ryan told me. “Mom is hungry, and she doesn’t like to be out very late, so we’ll go on and have dinner...if that’s okay.”
“Sure. That’s fine.”
“I’ll be happy to bring you something after you get back from Ms. Pridemore’s place.”
“No, thanks,” I said. “I’ll be all right.”
After ending the call, I went into the kitchen and got a pack of peanut butter crackers. As I opened the package, I waffled between feeling relieved that I didn’t have to go to dinner with Ryan’s mother after all and feeling resentful that they were so amenable to going on without me.
I was washing down the crackers with a glass of iced tea when I heard Ivy’s car roar into the driveway. I put the glass in the sink and walked out the door, making sure to lock it behind me.
Ivy drove a sporty blue convertible that necessitated her wearing her long, auburn hair in a French braid this evening.
“Thanks for agreeing to this,” Ivy said, as I got into her car and buckled my seatbelt.
I hadn’t realized I had a choice, but I didn’t say so.
She backed out of the driveway.
“So...do you think it’s a gas leak?” I asked, trying to make conversation.
“Too soon to say.”
“I hope this investigation didn’t spoil any plans you had for this Saturday evening.” Attempt number two.
“The job comes first. That’s a requirement of accepting it.”
“Right. Of course.” One more try, and then I’d give up. “This is a beautiful car.”
Ivy smiled. “Thanks. My dad got me interested in cars when I was a little girl. I guess I always was more of a tomboy than a girly-girl. I could change the spark plugs in any vehicle by the time I was ten years old.”
“That’s impressive.”
She nodded. “Dad thought so. He also taught me to change the oil, service a transmission, and replace tires.”
“Wow.” It was nice to learn more about the enigmatic Ivy.
“He isn’t able to do his own vehicle maintenance anymore, so I take care of his car and his truck.” Her smile faded. “He hates not being able to do it himself...but he supervises, of course.”
“I’m sure he’s terribly proud of you.”
“Can you remember whether or not the stove was electric or gas?” Ivy asked.
Sharing time was over. “I think it was electric.”
“Did you notice a heater in the room?”
“No.”
When we got to Ms. Pridemore’s house, Ivy frowned. “What’s with all these cars?”
“Ms. Pridemore’s tenants, the Ostermanns, have a corn maze and some other festivities going on for the next few weekends.”
“Good grief. Why would anyone want to get lost in a corn maze?” She got out of the car.
I followed her to the kitchen door, and she pushed it open. Then Ivy stretched out her arm so I couldn’t cross the threshold.
“What did you see from this point?” she asked.
“The first thing I saw was Ms. Pridemore slumped at the table.”
“Exactly where was the victim sitting? Was she facing you or was her back to you?”
“She was facing the door,” I said. “Why do you keep calling her a victim? Do you think someone hurt Ms. Pridemore on purpose?”
“I’m not thinking anything right now—I’m gathering evidence. That evidence is pointing to the fact that Gladys Pridemore was poisoned by toxic fumes. We need to find out what happened so that if and/or when she’s able to return home, she’ll be safe.” She lowered her arm. “Let’s go inside.”
I gingerly stepped into the room, trying to stay behind Ivy so that I didn’t disturb anything. What I could disturb I didn’t know—her train of thought maybe? Her line of sight?
“Tell me what you did after you came into this room,” Ivy said.
I went through my actions step-by-step, just as I had with Sheriff Billings. Afterward, Ivy asked me if everything was as I’d left it.
Walking slowly around the room, I let my eyes linger over the table, the stove, the sink, and the floor. “Ms. Pridemore had an overturned coffee cup at her left hand. That has been removed, and the table has been cleaned. And someone has washed and put away the dishes.”
Ivy muttered an expletive. “I wish the sheriff had made it clear that this house was to have been left undisturbed.” She took out her phone and called Sheriff Billings. “Hi, it’s me. I need for you to coordinate with another law enforcement agency in the region...yeah...a full forensics team to help me determine how Gladys Pridemore was poisoned.” She blew out a breath. “Sorry to hear that.”
After ending the call, Ivy told me that Gladys Pridemore had died at the hospital.
I WAS GLAD TO BE BACK home. I took a bath, put on a sleep shirt and a floral satin robe, and stretched out on the white fainting couch in the fancy room. My “fancy room” used to be Mom’s bedroom. After she moved out, Roger—my childhood friend and Jackie’s boyfriend—added floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to the room and helped me find a reasonably-priced rolltop desk. I also exchanged Mom’s bed for the fainting couch and added a peacock blue chair, matching ottoman, and a reading lamp. Voila! A fancy room.
I was absentmindedly thumbing through a cookbook as Rory snored in his bed beside the couch. At the tap on the door, Rory was on full alert and barking.
I sat up and slid my feet into my slippers. I was guessing my visitor was Ryan, but I wasn’t sure. I went to the door and looked through the peephole. Sheriff Billings was standing on my porch.
I opened the door. “Come on in, Sheriff. I’ll run and change.”
“I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I—”
“No trouble at all.” I hurried to my bedroom and slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. When I returned to the living room, Sheriff Billings had made friends with Rory.
“This one likes his tummy rubs,” he said.
“He sure does.” I sat on the sofa across from the chair in which Sheriff Billings sat. “What brings you by?”
“Mainly, I just wanted to check on you to see if you’re feeling better. Whatever it was Gladys Pridemore breathed proved fatal for her. Of course, I imagine her advanced age and declining health played a factor in her death, but still, I needed to ensure you were all right.”
“As you can see, I’m fit as a fiddle.”
He nodded, but his brows remained drawn together. “May I...see your hands please?”
I held out my hands, palms down, so that he could see my fingernails. I wore a clear coat of polish, but had they been tinged blue, it would have been apparent.
Sheriff Billings gave me a tight smile. “Thanks.”
I lowered my hands. “I appreciate your concern. Did you know Ms. Pridemore well?”
“Nope. I don’t think I’d ever met her.” He rubbed his hand across his chin. “What was your initial impression...you know, when you went into the kitchen?”
“How do you mean?” I’d already told him everything I remembered.
“Did you think Ms. Pridemore had suffered a heart attack? Fainted? Been poisoned? What crossed your mind?”
“I didn’t know what had happened. I mean, the coffee cup was overturned, and Ms. Pridemore was face down on the table. I suppose I thought she’d had a heart attack at first. But that smell was there.” I closed my eyes. “It was oppressive...more like a presence than an odor, if that makes any sense.”
“Did your headache begin to come on almost immediately?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, opening my eyes. “I knew I needed to get some fresh air circulating in that room. And, of course, I saw the pot on the stove.” I shook my head. “I thought that was strange because when she called the café, Ms. Pridemore said she didn’t cook as much as she used to and practically begged me to bring her the food she ordered. She said she needed it tomorrow.”
“What’s going on tomorrow?”
“She said she was having a party...a casual party.” I frowned. “But I have to wonder if maybe she was suffering from dementia because there was nothing in that pot. I originally thought she’d put the pot on the burner and sat down at the table while she was waiting for some water to come to a boil. That would’ve explained it being empty—she collapsed, and the water evaporated.”
“What changed your mind?” Sheriff Billings asked.
“The burner was on low. Had she been waiting for water to come to a boil, it would have been on high. That’s why I’m thinking she might’ve been suffering from some mental issues.” I shrugged. “Of course, I’m merely speculating. I have no idea what actually occurred.”
“Thanks for your insights, Amy. I appreciate it. And I’m sorry you didn’t get to have dinner with Ryan and his mother tonight.”
“That’s okay.”
He squinted at me. “Was this to be your first time meeting Michelle?”
“Kinda. He introduced her to me when she signed on as a vendor for the farmers’ market, but we only exchanged hellos. They didn’t stay for lunch because Mrs. Hall had brought Ryan’s favorite lunch, and they’d eaten already.” I pressed my lips together. “But, uh, this was going to have been the first time I’d actually conversed with her.”
“You didn’t gas poor Gladys Pridemore to keep from having to have dinner with them, did you?”
My eyes widened. “No! I’d never—!”
He laughed. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”
“I’m afraid Ms. Hall won’t like me.”
“The mothers never like the girls their sons bring home. The dads like the girls. The moms like their daughters’ suitors.”
“Really?”
Sheriff Billings nodded. “Haven’t you found that to be the case?”
I gave the matter some thought. “You know what? You’re right. I’ve never had a problem winning over my boyfriends’ dads—not that I’ve had that many boyfriends—but the moms seldom liked me.”
“Precisely. Works the opposite for us gents. It took my father-in-law ten years to warm up to me, but Molly’s mother appeared to love me right from the start.”
There was another knock at the door.
I asked Sheriff Billings to excuse me while I answered the door. This time, it was Ryan. He came inside without his usual kiss hello.
“Hi, Amy. Sir. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. I dropped by to see if Amy had suffered any ill effects from...well, from whatever caused Ms. Pridemore’s death.”
Ryan’s eyes flew from his boss to me. “Amy, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“She is,” Sheriff Billings assured him. “And I was just leaving.” He stood. “But before I go, Amy, what’s Monday’s special?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t given it any thought yet. Do you have a suggestion?”
“I could really go for some of that beef and cheese pasta bake if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”
I smiled. “All right. I have my Monday special.”
“Thanks. You two have a good night. Ryan, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jackie!” I exclaimed.
“What about her?” Ryan asked.
“I’ve got to call and make sure she’s all right.”
{ }