The Corpse With the Golden Nose (32 page)

Bud cleared his throat and tapped his wrist. I got it.

“When you found out the real identity of your online ‘grief buddy,' you formed a plan. As a grieving sister unable to come to terms with her sibling's suicide, you'd invite Bud to investigate. And Bud was all for it.
Clear suicide.
No evidence to the contrary. You'd have had an ex-cop say so, in public. Which is why we all got treated to those two little scenes: the sister in denial at the party, the sister in acceptance at lunch. Very nice. Raj could rest easy,
should
rest easy. It would help him settle into his new role as your partner in business, and then, in your mind, at least, in life.”

It was clear from the faces, and the tension, in the room that no one was in any doubt any longer. Raj was shaking his head in disbelief.

“It all might have worked if Bud hadn't spoken to
me
about it.
I
didn't buy it
for one minute
that a woman with such a finely tuned sense of smell would asphyxiate herself with noxious fumes. When I realized your obsession with Raj, worked out that Annette was pregnant, and put that together with what I'd found out about the death of poor Stacey Willow, it all made a warped sort of sense. I knew that Serendipity was in danger too.”

Sammy raised his hand again. “Ellen somehow made Serendipity eat peanuts because she found out that Serendipity and Raj have been dating?” He was trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. I guessed he'd have welcomed the return of a few of the millions of brain cells he'd slaughtered through excess over the years.

“Sort of, and
I'm
to blame for that,” I said, addressing Serendipity and Raj. “I'm so terribly sorry that I put you in harm's way. I should have been brighter, I should have seen Ellen's fixation for what it was, but I didn't. You see, I mentioned my observations about your obvious love for each other to her, without realizing the implications.” I looked at the beautifully matched, if terribly distressed, couple and repeated, “I'm
so
sorry.”

“
How
did she make Serendipity eat peanuts?” asked Sammy still puzzled. “I don't get it. Serendipity's always so careful.”

“She didn't eat peanuts,” I replied. “In Ellen's fridge yesterday I saw lots of cooking and salad dressings, one of which was peanut oil. When I was outside, grabbing a quick smoke, I spotted a cigarette stub that looked wet. In fact, it was a little
oily
, not wet. Ellen had injected it with peanut oil, and Serendipity inhaled it. Probably took a really big, deep drag on it. I know that's what I do when I'm grabbing a quick smoke.”

“But Serendipity's quit smoking,” said Raj. Serendipity blushed.

“Serendipity has been visiting Lizzie to
help
her quit, Raj, and I applaud her for it. Lizzie's hypnotic process allows the person who's quitting to still smoke cigarettes that are already alight, though they won't light them up for themselves. Ellen
knew
that. In fact, she was the one who told Lizzie that she'd seen Marcel at C'est la Vie do exactly that—pick up smoldering butts and puff on them. All Ellen had to do was to inject a cigarette with peanut oil and leave it where Serendipity would be sure to find it—like in the big ashtray-pot at the side of the building here. She could easily just keep repeating the process all evening. After all, what smoker would pick up a discarded butt and puff away at it?
No one.
Only someone for whom that was their only option. When Serendipity ducked out to the loo, and then for a breath of fresh air, she saw a lighted cigarette, couldn't resist, and smoked it. We all saw how extremely swift and violent her allergic reaction was. It's one of the most dangerous and deadly ways to experience an allergen—in the lungs like that.”

I turned from the “Soul” table and addressed the MacMillans next.

“Colin—if it hadn't been for your heroism, Serendipity would probably have died. That's what Ellen didn't expect:
you
weren't due to be here tonight, Colin, and she'd already lifted Serendipity's Epi-Pen from her pocket. I have to acknowledge, here and now, that, while you might not be ‘The Doctor,' you certainly
are
a hero. You used your brain, and you put another person's life ahead of your own, even though you were reeling from the news of your Dad's death.”

“What happened to my Colin? Why was he taken badly too?” Sheri's voice was frail, though she was patting her son's hand, proudly.

“Well, to be fair to Suzie, I think it was quite natural for her to react as she did. All she could see was Colin launching himself at her daughter, and stab at her leg with something metallic. Serendipity would have been exhaling peanut fumes all over him and, being sandwiched between Serendipity and her mother, Colin was pretty close to those fumes. He'd have received a much lower level of the allergen than you, Serendipity, but enough to kick his response to it into overdrive. It's
such
good fortune that you had the spare Epi-Pen with you, Sheri.”

I looked around. Pretty much everybody looked as drained as I felt, except Ellen.

She leapt from her seat and confronted me. “
None
of this is true!
No one
believes a word of it. Besides,
there's no proof of any of it
!”

“Actually, there is, Ellen. I have the cigarette with the peanut oil in it, safely preserved for the police. I'm sure they'll be able to match the oil in the cigarette to the bottle in your fridge,
and
the residue on your hands.”

Ellen Newman's eyes involuntarily flickered toward her hands.
Gotcha!

“Earlier on, I had an irrational desire for Reese's Pieces. It was the smell of peanuts that made me want them. I can still smell it on you now. It's tough to get off. That should be enough for attempted murder. You know what, Ellen? I'm sure there'll have been
someone
who saw you with Stacey Willow, and, now that the cops know what they're looking for, they'll find something that ties you to her. And if there's an investigation into the disappearance of ‘Jane,' I'm going to bet that you left some trail of evidence there—it's likely you were sloppy. She
was
your first, after all. Unfortunately, I do accept that there might not be any
physical
evidence to put in front of a jury to prove that you killed Annette, but I think that the circumstantial evidence is building up around her death quite nicely. There might still be some evidence to tie you to tampering with the Wisers' brakes. So, to respond to your first point, Ellen, there
is
evidence.
Lots.
And to respond to your second observation—that no one will believe it—well, just look around you. These people have known you for years. Some for your whole life. It looks to me like they
all
believe you could have done, and indeed
did do
, what I've accused you of doing. And if they've made that journey in a few, short minutes, imagine the way the case will build against you over days, or even weeks, in court.
But
, hey, that's not up to me, and it's not even up to the two very accommodating officers from the
RCMP
who've been listening to all this. It's up to the legal system now.” I was exhausted.

As Bud stood guard at one door, the two cops made their way from the other toward Ellen. She had nowhere to go. No escape. She ran across the room and launched herself at Raj.

She kissed him, hugged him. “I did it for you, my darling! I did it all for you. All of them, they were all trying to come between us. I knew it was
me
you really wanted. I could see it when you looked at me. Even when you turned away from me: you didn't want other people to see how much you desired me. That silly girl Jane—she was always flying around on her skates. I sorted her out. I told her you were mine, and she laughed at me! Laughed—
at me!
I pushed her, and she fell. When she was lying there, rambling and bleeding, it was easy. Who knew that skates make such a great weapon? They have such heft!”

Raj was looking in horror over Ellen's shoulder at Bud, who was making
stretch it out
motions at him.

Raj played along. He put up with Ellen's caresses, and kisses, though I could tell from his micro-expressions that he wanted to gag and run away.

“But I never had nothing to do with
Stacey
,” he said. Bud gave him the thumbs-up.

Ellen pulled back. “She was all over you, Raj. All over you! I knew she was after you, it was as clear as day. All I did was send her to sleep. I didn't
hurt
her. Like I didn't hurt Annette. All I did was get her to go to sleep too. Her
and
the baby.
Nighty-night.
I didn't like the feeling that I'd
hurt
Jane, you see. You
do
understand, don't you?
That
started as an accident, and then she was dead. But when I
planned
it, I didn't plan to
hurt
people.”

Suzie could stand no more. She leapt up and grabbed Ellen's hair. “You
planned
to hurt my baby! We all saw the agony she was in. You didn't care!
You mad bitch!
”

Suzie dragged Ellen off Raj, held her by the hair, and started slapping her with her free hand. Her fingernails raked Ellen's face. Suzie was screaming incoherently. She was a tiger, protecting her young.

It took the two officers at least a minute to detach Suzie from Ellen. Suzie had lost most of her fingernails, and Ellen had lost a large patch of hair. Finally, it was all over.

Ellen was escorted to the waiting police car, weeping, and wiping blood from her cheeks.

Sheri held her boy close, then pulled back, looked up at him, and said, “You know he used to hit me, eh?” Colin nodded, slowly and sadly. He looked grim. “Well,” she continued with a forced brightness, “now we're on our own, and no one will ever hit me, or make me afraid again. We'll get through this, Colin, you and me
together
.
You're
the man I want in my life. I am so proud of you!” He bent down to her and let her kiss him. “Now, let's get you to the emergency room. On the way you can tell me all about this ‘doctor' that Cait mentioned.”

As the MacMillans left, I couldn't help but mentally wish Sheri luck with the journey she was about to undertake. When Angus died, it had taken me about five years to stop blaming myself for how he'd treated me. It took another five before I'd allowed the walls I'd built around myself for protection to crumble just enough for Bud to peer in, and save me.

I smiled at Bud as I silently sent these wishes to Sheri. I knew very well he wouldn't be able to read the expression on my face, other than to register that I was tired, and relieved

In the corner of the room, the Souls had a group hug, and included Raj. “Man, I love this family!” said Sammy, and he beamed.

At their table, the Jacksons and their two employees had all joined hands and were chanting something, swaying to and fro. They seemed preoccupied.

Standing alone near the exit, close together, the Wisers looked at each other like teenagers, despite their advanced years.

The Corrigans were discussing what they should do about the business. Lauren calmly pointed out that it was the beginning of the busy season, and they shouldn't let folks down. Pat didn't disagree, but I wondered how long it would be before Pat and his world-famous sausages were the draw at another venue. Not long, I suspected.
I mean,
who can resist sausages?

I was tired. Completely done in. All the adrenalin that had deadened my aches and pains for a while was finally draining away, and I was throbbing, quite literally, from head to toe.

Bud reached out and hugged me. Gently.

“Cait Morgan, I love you, and I am
very
proud of you,” he said, smiling, “but it's the hospital for you. Now. No more stalling. You're done. Go!” He pointed to two paramedics who were waiting to put me into a chair to wheel me out.

“It's okay, I'll walk,” I said.

“No, you damn well won't. Sit!” Bud can be
very
firm.

Three hours later, Bud and I were
still
sitting in the waiting area of the emergency room: a pile up on the Bennett Bridge had produced several casualties, all of whom were, sadly, more serious than a broken wrist and a twisted ankle. Colin and Serendipity had already been assessed, treated, and released.

It was just Bud and me and two pretty uncomfortable plastic chairs.

I sipped the Cup-a-Soup that Bud had managed to wrangle out of a vending machine. He
said
he'd pushed the button for “chicken,” but I couldn't taste anything remotely like chicken about it.

“Just a few more questions,” said Bud, “if you're up to it?” I nodded.

“Am I right in thinking that if you hadn't got locked in the apple store and found that other photograph, you wouldn't have worked this all out?”

“I was leaning toward Ellen—her hoarding and the traits that it indicated; her ‘connection' to Raj. The pregnancy was what made it all fall into place. I should have
seen
it in the photo you gave me last week. I told you that one photo is tough to interpret. If I'm brutally honest about it, it wasn't the
photo
, it was
me
. I was
judging
what I saw, not questioning what it
meant
. Immediately I saw that original photo, I should have asked myself
why
a woman so obviously proud of her appearance would wear an ill-fitting bra. Instead, I simply dismissed her out of hand as just another woman who couldn't take the time to be fitted for the right size. Then there was a lot of talk about Annette buying baggy clothes at the thrift store. In the photo you showed me, Annette was well dressed, if casual, and that's probably why her shirt and bra were too tight on her. She was still wearing her own clothes rather than the bigger sizes she knew she was going to need in the months to come. So I won't be so quick to judge like that again—especially after two glasses of champagne and in the company of the man I love. If people's lives are going to depend on it, I should be more thorough. More dispassionate.
Less judgmental.
Though you have to admit, my summation of Ellen based upon the way she wrote those notes was pretty accurate.”