The coffee service was perfect. It had belonged to one of Juniper’s ancestors several hundred years or so ago, she was sure. There was a sterling silver coffee urn and matching sugar and creamer. They used the same cups as they had for the Thanksgiving dinner, except Juniper’s favorite with the pansies was missing, as it was still in police evidence. That was okay. If history was to repeat itself, as Juniper hoped, the actual cup wouldn’t matter.
Places were set for Juniper, Tori, Garrett, and Beatrice. Poppy was busy in the kitchen, gathering scones and muffins that Sabrina had baked.
Tori had had no trouble persuading the maid to come. Okay, she might have implied it was an interview of sorts, which had made it all the more attractive to the girl. Poppy knew Beatrice would be there, which was part of the plan. Luckily, Tori had discovered that Beatrice didn’t mind her staff taking side jobs, and since this was Poppy’s day off, it shouldn’t be an issue.
Desmond, of course, had been invited. Only he would be late arriving. That was also part of the plan. Juni and Tori and Garrett had decided that if they created a distraction, the killer would take advantage of that to make her move.
The knocker sounded at precisely four—not a second earlier or later. Tori smirked at the woman’s obsession with precision. “I’ll get it. You all wait here.”
A special table had been brought down from the attic—one the Duckman’s crack team of investigators had wired. Every word from this moment forward was being streamed directly into the van hidden in the garage. Cameras had been tucked into the trim work as well. If someone tried their hand at poison again, there would be proof—one way or another.
“Beatrice! Hi!” Tori leaned in for a fake air kiss and a hug. “So glad you could make it! Come on inside. Terrence will take your coat. Thank you, Terrence.”
Once the “receiving” had been done, Tori led her toward the front parlor. “We’ve only been seated for a second ourselves,” she told the woman. “Except for Detective Mallard. He tried, but the poor man just couldn’t make it on time.”
She tsked then motioned for Beatrice to sit between Juniper and Garrett. Her expression when she looked at him was hilarious. Still, she faked a smile and went around to squeeze in between the two.
“Perhaps the detective is still feeling a bit off after his ordeal at your Thanksgiving Day party, Juniper,” she said. “At least, one would think it the cause—after all, punctuality should be part of an authoritative life.”
So prim. So proper, Tori thought. If she were writing a book, this woman would no doubt end up being either the victim or the killer.
Poppy placed the tray of scones and muffins on the table.
Beatrice looked surprised to see her. “Oh, Poppy, I see you are making good use of your day off.”
Poppy simply nodded and got busy pouring the coffee into the cups. Her back was to them, and Juniper couldn’t quite see what she was doing.
A crash and clatter—something they had set up before—at the side entrance signaled Desmond’s late arrival. Tori stood. “That must be Detective Mallard. I’ll just go let him know where we are.”
“I’ll pick up whatever that was, Tori. Mallard must have knocked over the cart or something. Maybe the big pot that was sitting on it broke. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Garrett said, getting up to follow her.
Juniper got up as well, but she only went to the door. From her position, she could see both the back door and the parlor—clearly enough to see firsthand what was happening with the coffee cups. She knew Beatrice’s sense of politeness would prevail, and the woman wouldn’t touch a drop until everyone was back in the room.
“Detective Mallard’s here.” Juniper moved back into the room. Tori, Garrett, and Desmond followed. The coffee had been poured, and Poppy had placed a steaming cup in front of everyone.
“It’s so nice to have you here, Beatrice,” Juniper said.
“Thank you.” Beatrice glanced around the table. “Though I do find the choice of invitees a bit unusual.”
“Oh, just good friends. I like to make sure everyone has enough caffeine.”
Beatrice nodded and picked up her cup.
“But wait!” Juniper held her hand over Beatrice’s cup. “I also like to make sure the staff has enough caffeine to keep them awake. Perhaps you’d like to give your cup to Poppy, and we can get you a fresh one.”
Beatrice looked confused. “What? Well, that is highly unusual, but I guess you are a strange one.”
Juniper held Beatrice’s cup out toward Poppy, who resembled a deer caught in the headlights. “Poppy, why don’t you join us?”
For one tense moment, everyone in the room watched Poppy with bated breath, wondering what her next move would be. People did crazy things when they were caught in bad situations, and no one actually wanted anyone else to get hurt.
Poppy stared at the cup, clearly uncomfortable. “No, thanks, ma’am. I’m just here to serve the coffee.”
“No, really, go ahead. Drink up.” Juniper got up and walked the cup over to her.
Poppy’s eyes darted from the cup to Juniper to Detective Mallard. Then, suddenly, she pushed the cup away and made a run for the door. Juniper was ready and lunged after her.
A bit of a fracas ensued. Poppy tried to slow Juniper down by whipping the tablecloth from the table, causing the china to smash on the floor in front of Juniper. Coffee and scones went everywhere.
But it was to no avail because Desmond was waiting at the door, blocking Poppy’s exit. He whipped out the handcuffs.
“Poppy Sanders, you’re under arrest for the attempted murder of Beatrice Miller.”
Beatrice glanced from Poppy to Desmond to Juniper. “My word, Juniper Holiday, you sure don’t do anything the normal way. What in the world is this about?”
Juniper turned to Beatrice. “I’m afraid that poison that made Detective Mallard sick at the Thanksgiving dinner was meant for you.”
“Me? But I don’t understand.”
“I guess Poppy didn’t want to work for you anymore. She tried to poison you at the Thanksgiving dinner,” Tori said. “Unfortunately, she didn’t realize the cup she had intended to serve to you was Juniper’s favorite. When one of the other servers insisted on bringing that cup to Juniper, Poppy could hardly refuse.”
Beatrice’s hand flew to her chest. “Oh dear.”
“What I don’t understand,” Garrett said, “is why go to all the trouble to poison her here? She would have plenty of opportunities to kill Beatrice right in her home.”
“I know why. If she did it at Beatrice’s house, she would be one of only a few suspects, but there were dozens of people at the dinner. She was hoping to muddy the waters of the investigation with suspects. Maybe she was even planning on pinning it on me, since it’s well known that I don’t like Beatrice calling the cops on me for noise violations all the time.” Juniper skewered Beatrice with her gaze.
“Oh dear, Juniper! I will never do that again. Why… I owe you my life!” Beatrice was teary-eyed.
Garrett cleared his throat. “I guess that makes sense. And then she tried again today, thinking she could blame you and say it was already in the cup. But why? If she didn’t want to work for Beatrice, why not just quit?”
“I know why,” Tori said. “Beatrice said she’d take care of her staff after she was gone. I assume there is something in her will.”
Beatrice nodded. “That’s right. Oh dear, this is just terrible. Poppy. Why?”
Poppy just stared at her. “Maybe you should be nicer to your staff, and they won’t try to kill you.”
Beatrice looked taken aback. “Maybe. Maybe I should. And to my neighbors too.”
“Does that mean you won’t call the cops on us anymore?” Juniper asked.
“I should say not! I will be forever in your debt.”
Desmond finished reading Poppy her rights and took her away.
Beatrice got up to leave. “However can I thank you, Juniper?”
“No need to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Juniper sincerely meant it. She felt bad for Beatrice. Clearly, something had happened in her life to make her such a grump. Maybe she’d turn over a new leaf now.
“I’m sorry for calling the cops on you, Juniper. From now on, I’m going to be a good neighbor,” Beatrice said as she left.
“Well, that was interesting,” Garrett said. He waved his hand. “Sorry about the mess. Tor and I will clean it up for you.”
“No, it’s fine,” Juniper said, waving her hand, dismissing the offer. “It’s only porcelain. It’s replaceable.”
“Yes, but it will also cut you,” Garrett said, already heading to the door for the broom. “I’ll be back in a second. Tori, don’t let her step on anything.”
“As if that’s going to happen,” Juniper remarked flippantly and went to sit down, missing every shard of porcelain. She looked around and sighed. “There’s no telling how old that set was.”
“Old.”
Juniper snorted at Tori’s short answer. “At least my favorite cup is still at the police station, so it didn’t get smashed. Do you think Beatrice will turn over a new leaf now, Tortellini?”
Tori frowned and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Garrett returned with the cleaning implements. “I put the cats in the front room,” he said. “Luna and Finn were trying to follow me in here, and I didn’t want them to get cut.”
“Thanks, Garrett,” Juniper said. She got up to take the broom, which he refused to hand over.
“Let me do this, June.”
“All right, fine. But you better not be cleaning up because you think I can’t handle it.”
Garrett snorted. “Ha! Not likely. I just want to.”
“Mm-hmm,” Juniper grumbled, sinking back down in her chair, only to jump back up a second later. “Wait! Don’t sweep it all up yet. This calls for a song.”
Garrett shared a questioning look with Tori, and Tori shrugged, indicating she didn’t have any more of a clue than he did as to what Juniper was doing.
Juniper hurried to the music hub she’d had specially installed in the central part of the mansion when she moved in. As a lover of music, she wanted to be able to hear it wherever she happened to be instead of missing it because she might have to leave the room.
She quickly swiped through her digital collection of songs until she got to the one she wanted to play. Then, with an almost maniacal grin on her face, she pressed Play.
“Another One Bites the Dust” filled the mansion, the heavy bass following her all the way back to the tea room, where Tori and Garrett stared at her with differing expressions on their faces, both of which meant unbelievable.
Never let it be said that Juniper Holiday was not prepared for any situation, no matter how dark. Cackling, she danced her way across the room, careful not to step on the broken porcelain, the black tourmaline at her pinky glinting in the overhead light.