Cinnamon Toasted (26 page)

My knees sagged with relief when Precious Blessing answered. “Honey, please don’t tell me you found another body.”

“Precious,” I gasped, “something bad’s happened to Melly. Send an ambulance. I can’t remember her address.”

I hurried back inside the house as fast as
my wobbly legs would carry me. And that was the last thing I remembered.

*   *   *

“Mom?” I opened my eyes, and Lindsey’s worried face filled my vision. “You’re going to be okay, Mom. The doctor said you’ll be fine.”

“Of course I’m going to be fine, sweetie. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t remember?”

“What happened?” I drew in a deep breath of pure oxygen piped through a plastic tube in my
nose. Gazing around, I found myself in a small curtained-off cubicle. A series of green squiggles and red blips tangoed across a monitor affixed to a wall. A blood pressure cuff was secured to one arm. A sensor stuck to my index finger like a clothespin. Fragments of memory began to coalesce. I shoved myself into an upright position. “Melly?”

McBride pushed aside the curtain surrounding the gurney
I lay on. “Your former mother-in-law is going to be all right, but the doctor wants to keep her overnight for observation.”

Comforted at hearing this, I eased back down on the pillow.

McBride turned to Lindsey, who held my hand. “I need to talk to your mom for a couple minutes. I think your boyfriend would like some company, seeing as how most of his friends have gone home.”

“Sure.” She squeezed
my hand, then left.

“Sean’s here?” I asked, my thoughts still foggy.

McBride lowered himself on the chair Lindsey had just vacated. He looked a little rough around the edges. His dark hair was disheveled, as though he’d run his fingers through it a time or two. A hint of five o’clock shadow darkened his jaw, but rather than detracting from his rugged appeal, added to it. “The kid suffered a
knee injury in the third quarter.”

Details of the football game drifted back. The memory of Sean being carted off the field clicked into place. “Is he going to be all right?”

“They’ll know more when they get the results of a CT scan.” McBride withdrew his ever-present notebook from a shirt pocket. “Tell me everything you remember about your visit to Melly Prescott’s.”

“Okay.” Easier said than
done in this case. Why was thinking so difficult? “Since this was her first night home after discovering Chip’s body, I drove over to check on her. I saw her car in the drive, but no lights were on inside the house. She didn’t answer when I rang the bell or pounded on the door, so I used a key she’d given me years ago.”

“And then what?

I frowned, trying to knit the pieces together. “The light
switch didn’t work—it must’ve blown a fuse—so I didn’t see Melly at first. The heat was turned so high that it gave me a headache, made me dizzy. I lost my balance, fell, and landed on top of Melly. She was unconscious. I tried to call nine-one-one from her landline. When I couldn’t get a dial tone, I ran to the car for my cell phone.”

“That it?”

“Mm-hmm.” I vaguely remembered being carried
in a strong pair of arms, but I didn’t think he needed to jot that in his little black book. “What’s going on? Come on, McBride, I have a right to know.”

“Now, that sounds more like the Piper Prescott I’ve come to know.” He almost smiled before turning serious again. “The doctors are treating you and Melly for carbon monoxide poisoning. They’ll know for sure when the lab results come back. Doc
put a rush on them.”

“Carbon monoxide?” I repeated in disbelief. “That can be deadly. I need to see for myself that Melly’s really all right.” I tore off the oxygen tube and swung my legs over the edge of the stretcher. Before my feet had a chance to reach the floor, my vision grayed, my ears buzzed.

“Easy now.” McBride scooped me up as effortlessly as though I weighed no more than a child and
laid me back down. He refitted the cannula in my nose. “Here, take a couple whiffs of oxygen before you try any more heroics.”

I wanted to glare at him angrily, but simply didn’t have the energy.

McBride stepped away from the gurney. “You done good tonight, Piper. You saved Melly’s life. Doc said if you hadn’t shown up when you did, she would’ve died.”

“I still don’t understand how this happened.
What causes carbon monoxide poisoning?”

McBride shrugged. “Faulty central heating systems, hot-water heaters, gas fireplaces, or a blocked chimney flue are common culprits.”

“Melly’s house is old. She probably hasn’t had the heating system checked in years.”

“That’s a possibility.”

Something in his voice signaled a Code Red. “Out with it, McBride. What
aren’t
you telling me?”

His expression
turned impassive. “We found a note.”

“A note?” I felt anxiety bubble inside me. “What kind of note?”

“Until we can rule it out, we’re treating the incident as an attempted suicide.”

C
HAPTER
28

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING,
I drove around the hospital to a side door marked
DISCHARGE AND ADMISSIONS
. I waited behind a sedan while an elderly man was wheeled out by a nurse’s aide. The woman assisted him out of the chair and gently eased him into the vehicle’s passenger seat. After handing over a large bag of personal possessions, she waved him off.

The glass doors slid open, and
Melly appeared in a wheelchair. Judging from her sour expression, she wasn’t happy. I got out of my car and ran around the hood to open the door.

“I wish everyone would stop treating me like an old lady,” Melly fussed. “I’m perfectly capable of walking out of this place on my two feet.”

“Sorry, ma’am, hospital policy,” answered a beleaguered aide. The instant Melly was safely in my VW, the aide
spun the wheelchair around and disappeared back inside.

“What took you so long?” Melly demanded querulously as she readjusted the air vents.

I snapped the buckle of my seat belt. “I got here fast as I could. As it was, I was afraid I’d get a speeding ticket.”

“Hmph!” Melly snorted. “I hope I never see the inside of that place again. All this commotion over a faulty furnace. Unbelievable!”

“Carbon monoxide poisoning can be deadly,” I commented as I put the car into gear.

“If someone says that to me one more time, I’m going to scream. I’ve heard that said at least a dozen times since last night. I don’t need to hear it from you.”

“Yes, ma’am. I got the memo.”

Melly shot me a look. “No need to be a smart mouth. I’ve never been subjected to such a trial in my entire life.” She stared
out the windshield. “From the way everyone kept watching me, you’d think I was a criminal. Why, I couldn’t even go to the bathroom without being followed.”

Did she realize her situation was considered an attempted suicide? Had McBride told her about a note he or one of his minions found? Perhaps last night Melly hadn’t been in any condition for questioning. I cast a sidelong glance her way. Except
for the fact that without makeup she looked pale, and her orderly pageboy suffered a severe case of bed-head, she didn’t seem any different after her ordeal.

“Don’t bite my head off, Melly, but I need to ask: Are you feeling any aftereffects from last night? Headache, dizziness, confusion?”

“Confusion?” she snapped. “Do I seem confused?”

“No,” I admitted. “Irritable, but not confused.”

Instead
of being insulted, she took that as a compliment of sorts and settled back in her seat. “CJ dropped by the hospital early this morning. He gave me an ultimatum. Until my heating system is thoroughly inspected, I either stay with you or with him—and Amber. I chose your place rather that mausoleum he calls a home.”

“Good, it’s settled then.”

“I refuse to be treated as a child.”

I hid a smile.
“I’m brave, but not that brave.”

*   *   *

Lindsey had manned the register at Spice It Up! while I was away. Upon seeing her grandmother, she rushed over to hug her. “Meemaw, I’m so glad you’re okay. You had us so scared.”

Casey danced around their feet, apparently echoing Lindsey’s sentiments. Or not wanting to be excluded from the lovefest.

Melly stroked Lindsey’s long blond hair. “No need
to worry about me, dear. I’m a tough old bird.”

Lindsey pulled back, satisfied her world had righted itself again, and asked, “Mom, mind if I go visit Sean? He texted. Said he’s bored and wants company.”

“Go right ahead. Tell him we’re sending positive thoughts his way that his injury won’t require surgery.”

“Will do,” she said as she bounded out the door.

I turned to Melly. “Why don’t you
go upstairs and rest.”

“I will right after I call Reba Mae and ask her to squeeze me in. I can’t go to the Grangers’ party tonight looking a mess. What will people think?”

“They’ll think you just survived a terrible experience.” I donned the yellow apron that Lindsey had hastily discarded. “You can’t be serious about going to the Oktoberfest after everything that’s happened?”

“I not only can,
but I
will
be at that party. I’m not about to give the gossipmongers in this town any more ammunition. Now,” she said, heading toward the stairs, “I think I’ll make a phone call and take that nap.”

I longed for a nap, too. It had been after one o’clock in the morning before the doctor had signed my discharge papers. Lindsey had stayed the entire time and driven me home. But my siesta would have
to wait.

*   *   *

A steady parade of customers passed through the shop. Most dropped by to tell me how happy they were that I suffered no ill effects after my harrowing escape. Others hailed me as a hero for saving Melly’s life. Some lowered their voices and confided they were praying Melly would find a way out of the “depths of despair.” One, who shall remain anonymous, had the gall to sympathize
with Melly’s “desire to end her life.” The person expounded that no life at all was preferable to one behind bars. Fortunately, Melly was at the beauty shop and wasn’t around to overhear the remarks.

My phone rang, and I excused myself from a particularly odious do-gooder. At hearing Doug’s voice, my mood lifted considerably.

“I must be living in a vacuum,” he said. “I just heard a few minutes
ago about what happened. I can’t believe Lindsey didn’t call me last night. Are you all right?”

“Other than needing a cat nap, I’m fine,” I assured him.

“How’s Melly?”

“She’s at the Klassy Kut right now, having her hair done. She’s determined to go to the party tonight, come hell or high water.”

“Wish I could run over and see for myself that you’re all right and not just putting on a brave
front. Unfortunately, I can’t leave the clinic untended. A Yorkie devoured a slice of chocolate birthday cake. He’s recovering, but I need to keep an eye on him.”

“Any luck finding a receptionist?”

“Not yet, but I think the situation is about to change. I’ll keep you posted, but right now I’ve got a couple worried dog owners coming up the walk.”

“See you tonight.”

I’d no sooner disconnected
than Dottie Hemmings charged in. “I couldn’t believe my eyes!” she said, waving her hands wildly. “Here I was at the Klassy Kut, waitin’ on Reba Mae to pick up a can of hair spray, and who waltzes in? Melly Prescott, bless her heart, that’s who. Been me after what she’s been through, I’da been curled up in bed, the covers pulled over my head.”

“Melly’s determined to go to Oktoberfest tonight.”

“You sure she’s up to all the excitement?” Dottie wagged her head. “She’s not gettin’ any younger.”

“Well, far be it from me to break the news.” Knowing Dottie wasn’t here to shop, I used the temporary lull to restock a shelf with small bags of whole nutmegs. Ten seconds of rubbing one against a small-holed grater yielded a half teaspoon of aromatic fresh ground nutmeg, I liked to advise customers.

“Your mother-in-law’s a strong-willed woman.” Dottie sighed, then brightened. “Wait till you see the costume I made for my husband the mayor to wear at the party.”

I didn’t bother correcting Dottie about my relationship to Melly—or lack thereof. “Can’t wait.”

“Wish I could stay and chat, but I have to finish hot-gluing plastic flowers to the suspenders he’s wearing with the lederhosen I made
out of an old pair of overalls. Let me tell you, Herr Burgomeister will be the talk of the town.”

Hizzoner the mayor in lederhosen? Oh my!

I didn’t have time, however, to ponder the mental image Dottie had painted. McBride, his expression grim, strode into the shop. If the look on his face wasn’t cause for alarm, the object he carried was. I pointed to the evidence bag. “My birthday isn’t until
February.”

His expression lightened fractionally before dimming again. “I’m here to talk to your mother-in-law. She available?”

“I don’t know why I have to keep reminding everyone that she’s my
ex
-mother-in-law.” I tucked a wayward curl behind one ear. “And no, she’s not available at the moment, but she should be back any minute if you care to stick around.”

“Guess I don’t have much choice.
I’m afraid I’ve delayed this interview too long as it is. She wasn’t in any shape to be questioned last night. By the time I got to the hospital today, they told me she’d been discharged. I have some questions for you as well.”

I gestured toward the rear of the shop. “Step into my office. Have a seat,” I said, indicating a stool. While McBride looked on, I took the cookie dough I’d made days
ago out of the fridge, unwrapped it, and placed it on the lightly floured surface of my worktable. To be honest, in all the commotion, I’d nearly forgotten about the lebkuchen.

“So that’s how it’s done,” McBride muttered, watching me wield a rolling pin, then cut the dough into small rectangles.

Not looking up, I carefully placed the cookies on a baking sheet. “What did you want to ask?”

He
cleared his throat. “Carbon monoxide can cause a hazy memory. I was wondering if you recalled any more details from last night.”

“Just what I already told you.” I tried not to stare at the evidence bag he’d casually placed nearby, but subtle wasn’t part of my repertoire. “Is that the
alleged
suicide note?”