Lethal Dose of Love (2 page)

“There’s not enough parking on the street as it is,” he continued.

“Calm down, Sean,” Payton said. “I have it covered.”

Claire stepped forward. “Since when are you complaining about parking? I’ve never seen you grumbling about the bookstore, or about Mamie’s gallery taking up spaces.” He didn’t reply. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even acknowledge her. She forged on, “You can’t be worried Payton’s
plants
will take business from your
café
.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re the one being ridiculous,” Payton said. “What I do is no concern of yours.”

“It is so long as you owe me money…”

She owed him money? His words echoed in Claire’s head: “We had a deal.”

“Get out.” Payton marched toward him holding the clipboard like a shield. Claire readied herself in case he balked.

Sean laughed but backed outside anyway. The women stood there as he crossed to the café and disappeared inside.

“Does he act like that all the time?” Payton asked.

“You mean obnoxious and domineering?”

“Exactly.”

Claire looked down at her hands, clenched like gnarly wrestlers. She forced the fingers apart, making one hand grip the purse strap and the other drop to her side, feigning nonchalance. “In grade school he conned other kids out of their lunch money and toys. In high school he cheated on tests and fooled around with married women. He—” Claire squeezed her eyes shut. She’d never spoken these images out loud. It left her feeling empty, sick. She opened her eyes at Payton’s touch on her arm and changed the subject. “What did he mean about you owing him money?”

Payton’s groan resonated in the empty room. “I showed interest in one of the paintings for sale in his restaurant. We dickered on a price but couldn’t come to an agreement. Next thing I know, he’s calling to ask when I’m picking it up. I reminded him we hadn’t agreed on a price. He insisted we had and I’d better come through.”

Typical Sean.

“The price wasn’t the real reason I backed out.”

Claire recalled yesterday’s yacht club meeting. At the time certain comments hadn’t seemed odd, but in light of today’s developments… “It’s got to do with Amanda March, right?”

“Yes. I was late getting to the meeting and didn’t catch the whole discussion, but Amanda was clearly upset. I thought it had something to do with that painting of the Commodore she bought from him. After the meeting I cornered her and asked about it, but she wouldn’t talk.” Payton shook her head, twitching her ponytail forward over her shoulder. “I didn’t have a good feeling about him so I decided to stay away.”

“I’m not sure you’ll be able to.”

“Because I’m opening across from his café?”

“That yes. But he won’t stay away from you.”

Payton blew out a sigh. “I thought moving to Sackets Harbor was such a good idea.” She dragged two wooden crates close together and dropped onto one. She leaned the clipboard against the side, then gestured for Claire to sit too.

“Why
did
you choose Sackets Harbor, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“It’s a long story. I won’t bore you with it now.”

“It wouldn’t bore me.” Claire definitely wouldn’t be bored. Everyone in town was dying to know why someone as rich and beautiful as Payton moved to an out of the way place like Sackets Harbor, New York. Rumor had it she was hiding from something, or someone. Till a few minutes ago, Claire sort of believed it. But if she
were
hiding out, why would she open a retail business where anyone might recognize her?

“God, I hate confrontations.” Payton tipped her head left and then right, as though working kinks out of her neck. She glanced around the shop. “I want to open a week or so before Memorial Day. Just in time for the tourists’ arrival.” Payton took off her cap and combed absentminded fingers through her hair.

“Are you really having second thoughts?”

Payton didn’t reply.

“Because of Sean?”

More silence. If Claire knew Payton better, she’d tell her about a plan that, for months—no, years—had been brewing in the back of her mind. Some days the stress of keeping it inside was more than she could stand. “What did you mean when you said you had parking covered?” she asked instead.

“I bought the vacant lot next door. Part of it will be turned into the patio I mentioned, but the rest will be off-street parking—for everyone to use.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would have made any difference to Sean.”

Payton stood, ran a hand through her hair again and put the hat back on, easing the bundled hair through the strap. “I’m not letting him ruin my plans. People who act like bullies are just covering up their own weaknesses. He probably had a bad childhood.”

Claire’s stomach flip-flopped. “Yes. Yes, that must be it.” She pulled up a sleeve and checked her watch. “I, er, just remembered an appointment. Very nice shop. I wish you much good fortune.” By the time the last word was out of her mouth, Claire had burst outdoors.

It was all her fault. This whole bloody Sean-mess was her fault.

Chapter 2

Claire hurried away, scrubbing tears with tense knuckles. To get to her car she had to go near the café. For now that strength just wouldn’t come. She turned right, walked twenty feet up the sidewalk, then crossed the street. Payton’s new sign stood proud and shiny for everyone to see.

Claire took a breath of the cold air and went into Mamie’s Artpost, two doors from Sean’s place, yet in the same building. Between their businesses was a vacant shop, empty since fall when the woman selling goodies for dogs closed up and went back to Connecticut. The ever-present scent of oil paint and damp cardboard pushed out of Mamie’s gallery as the door squeaked open. How could she stand that smell day in and day out?

“I’ll be right with you,” Mamie hollered from the back room.

“It’s just me.”

Round, plain Mamie Coutermarsh appeared, wiping her hands on a wad of brown paper towel. Her eyeglasses were perched atop a beehive of gray corkscrew curls. “How does the place look?” This was asked without Mamie making eye contact. She almost never made eye contact with anyone. She’d look up, down and around, and would, if the subject was serious enough, focus on a person’s chin or top button. It was the one thing about her friend that drove Claire nuts. Still, they were best friends, had been for more than ten years, since the death of Mamie’s husband.

Claire turned in a circle, squinting, searching for the slightest bit of dust, the smallest thing out of place. “Perfect.”

“Oh, Claire, I’m so nervous. Mr. Arenheim will be here in the morning.”

“Stop worrying. He’ll love the place. You’ll be Sackets Harbor’s first internationally-known gallery owner.”

“Do you really think so?”

“He’s going to love you. Just make sure you look him in the eye while you’re talking. Now stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”

“I wish there’d been time to get the vacant space next door cleaned up a little. It’d be easier for him to envision.”

“Didn’t you sign a lease with Helen?”

Helen Mortenson, besides being figurative head of the gossip committee, was a real estate agent and owner of the building.

“She said she’d have one ready. If Mr. Arenheim agrees to the deal to expand the gallery, all we have to do is add our signatures. Oh, Claire, I’m so nervous.”

Just then, a thump came from the very space under discussion. Mamie frowned. “Someone’s next door.”

“Probably Helen cleaning.” Claire put up a finger for Mamie to wait. She stepped outdoors, cupped her hands and peered in the window of the shop. Sean was hefting a cardboard box atop two others. Midway along the left wall the connecting door to his restaurant stood open. Claire felt a momentary dizziness that sagged her against the cold glass.

“Is it Helen?”

Claire jumped at Mamie’s voice. Her shoulder jolted Claire as she too looked through the glass. “Oh gosh.”

“You’d better phone Helen.”

Mamie dashed into the gallery.

Talking with Sean wasn’t something Claire wanted to do again so soon, but Mamie’s future was at stake. He spun around as she hammered on the window. The glare on the glass prevented reading his expression, but the way he strode to the door didn’t say
I’m happy to see you again
. Claire jammed her hands in her pockets and dried sweaty palms on the lining.

Sean opened the door three inches. “What?”

“What are you doing in there?”

Sean’s nose wrinkled and his eyebrows dipped into a vee. “It’s really none of your business but I’m expanding my restaurant.”

“You can’t. Mamie’s renting this space for her gallery. The guy’s coming from the city in the morning.”

“I don’t think so.” Sean shut the door, giving a definitive twist to the latch.

Claire put a palm on the doorframe to steady herself. Helen wouldn’t have rented to him without checking with Mamie. But what if she had?

The news would hit Mamie like a truck. Ever since Donald’s death her emotions had been on a rollercoaster. God knew she deserved something good to happen. Life with Donald hadn’t been great; he was some kind of inventor at the Technical Institute in Watertown and worked long hours. Like most people he hadn’t planned for his death and left Mamie penniless. With Claire’s encouragement and every cent she could scrape together, Mamie had opened her dream gallery. When Miles Arenheim called from the City a month ago, Claire thought this would be it—a world class gallery—Mamie’s big chance.

Claire pulled open the Artpost door and went in. Mamie said, “Helen’s line was busy.”

“If I were you I’d go right over there.”

“You really think so? I hate when people just drop in on me.”

Another thump sounded next door.

“You should go. Now.”

Mamie’s head tipped, and her nose wrinkled. “Will you watch the place while I’m gone?”

“In case you didn’t notice, it’s after five o’clock.”

“Heavens, I didn’t realize.”

“Call me later and let me know what happens.”

By seven thirty Mamie still hadn’t called. Claire phoned both her house and the gallery at least a dozen times. She was about to go out searching when Mamie’s car crunched into the driveway. Claire listened for the familiar slam of the door, the hollow footsteps across the porch, the opening and shutting screen door, but none came.

She went to the bedroom window and looked down on the roof of the green Ford Escort. No movement at all. Claire shut off the computer and went downstairs to look out the kitchen window. Mamie sat like a statue in the front seat. Claire knocked on the glass. Mamie didn’t react.

Claire hurried outside and rapped on the car window. Still Mamie didn’t move. Claire jerked open the door; a tear rolled down Mamie’s cheek. Claire eased her friend out of the vehicle, into the house and down the long hallway to the living room sofa. Then she went to the dining room and poured them each a shot of bourbon. As an afterthought, she splashed more in both glasses.

Claire sat on the coffee table facing Mamie who didn’t reach for the glass so she pried the fingers open and folded them around the glass. After a hearty sip, Claire spoke. “The deal fell through with Helen.”

There was the slightest nod of Mamie’s head. Claire wanted to scream that there’d been a verbal agreement, that Helen all but promised the place to Mamie.

“Tell me what happened.”

She erupted into spasms of heart-wrenching sobs. Claire got a box of tissues and set it in Mamie’s lap. It was a full fifteen minutes before she could speak. “God, Claire, I wish I was dead.”

“What happened?”

“When I got to H-helen’s nobody was th-there. I went home and c-called. There was still no answer. “

“Did you leave a message?”

“No. I just figured I’d keep ph-phoning till she came home. I called every ten minutes for two hours. Then I wanted a cup of tea and realized I was out of milk. I went to the corner market.” Mamie sucked in a breath and new trails of tears squeezed from her eyes. She blew her nose. “Helen was at the market. Sh-she’d been downtown m-meeting Sean.”

The dread that started on seeing Mamie sitting statue-like in the driveway, detonated like Fourth of July fireworks. Acid churned into Claire’s esophagus. She didn’t have to hear the rest.

“Sean told Helen that my deal with Mr. Arenheim fell through. And then he told her how he’d been thinking what a good idea it would be to enlarge his café. Helen believed him and since she had the contracts all ready, th-they just substituted his name for mine on the lease. God, Claire, I wish I was dead.”

Claire slid off the coffee table and onto the couch beside Mamie. She put an awkward arm around her friend’s shoulders and pulled her close. For a fleeting moment Claire considered divulging the plan that had been taking shape over the past year or so. Little by little the way she’d murder Sean Adams had achieved reality. She would poison him—that she knew for certain—what she hadn’t determined was which poison she’d use.

After hearing the plan, Mamie would realize her coveted store would be available. Two stores even, because without Sean, the café would close. What a gallery that would make, to expand the length of all three shops!