Cyanide with Christie Read online

  Luke arrived right on time but still wearing his sheriff’s uniform. ‘Sorry, got a last-minute call out and didn’t have time to change. Figured with a guest you’d rather have me on time in uniform than late in civvies.’

  She kissed him lightly. ‘You guessed right. Dinner smells heavenly, and I’m starved. And poor Oscar is still thawing out – he needs to get a good meal in him and get under a nice thick down comforter as soon as he can.’

  ‘Oscar?’ Luke raised an eyebrow at her. ‘First-name basis already, huh?’

  ‘Of course. He’s a dear. Come and meet him.’ She led the way into the library.

  Oscar rose to greet them. He came up to about Luke’s shoulder, and Luke could have spanned his upper arm with one hand. Oscar swallowed and gave a nervous smile. Surely he didn’t have anything to fear from the law? No, he couldn’t. It was understandable he’d find Luke a trifle intimidating, uniform or no.

  ‘Oscar Lansing, I’d like you to meet Luke Richards. Luke is our local lawman, as you can see, and also my …’ Here Emily paused, at a loss as to how to describe their relationship. It was obvious to all their local acquaintances, so a formal designation was rarely necessary.

  ‘Boyfriend’ sounded ridiculously juvenile for a couple in their fifties; ‘gentleman friend’ suggested a professional arrangement. ‘Lover’ would have been accurate in the Victorian sense – one who loves – but not in the modern one; ‘partner’ didn’t convey the right impression either. ‘Significant other’ was just silly. She might have to accept Luke’s proposal simply so she could introduce him as her fiancé. Oh well, the insipid ‘very dear friend’ would have to do for now, accompanied by a possessive hand on Luke’s arm.

  Luke stuck out his right hand with a genial smile, and Oscar relaxed and shook it. ‘Pleased to meet you. What should I call you? Sheriff?’

  ‘The title’s Lieutenant, but Luke will do when I’m off-duty. Which I most certainly am, uniform notwithstanding.’ Luke turned his nose toward the kitchen and inhaled deeply. ‘Can’t wait to see what Katie’s cooked up for us this time.’

  The gong in the hall – a recent acquisition – sounded its long deep note, and Emily led the way into the dining room. Katie, looking her part in a fresh white blouse and black skirt, whisked the covers off the dishes to reveal a roast duck in some sort of red sauce, surrounded by tiny roasted red potatoes, grated and sautéed Brussels sprouts, and a salad of spinach, beets, and walnuts.

  ‘Good heavens, Katie!’ Emily exclaimed. ‘You do realize it isn’t Christmas yet?’

  Katie laughed. ‘I’ve been wanting to do roast duck, but it won’t work for the crowd we’ll have for Christmas. Don’t you worry, Mrs C, I’ll do you proud for Christmas dinner. I thought the first guest at the retreat center was worth a little fuss.’

  ‘Right you are.’ To Emily – for whom planning food was even more daunting than cooking it – it was a relief to know she could count on Katie always to produce an appropriate meal for any occasion. And she knew Katie was thrilled to have an almost unlimited budget with which to expand her culinary repertoire.

  Oscar gazed at his plate with all the wonder of a man who’d been living off college cafeteria food for months. ‘This is incredible. It’s like something out of Edith Wharton. Remember the canvasbacks?’

  Luke looked up with a bite of duck halfway to his mouth. ‘Who’s that, some chef on TV?’

  Emily looked at him, momentarily speechless. She glanced across the table and saw Oscar dumbfounded as well. She took a sip of wine and recovered herself. After all, Luke hadn’t been a lit major – had never even made it to college, in fact – and Wharton was comparatively obscure.

  ‘Edith Wharton was an American novelist,’ she said, keeping her tone neutral. ‘She wrote about upper-class New York society in the late nineteenth century. Canvasback duck was all the rage at that time, apparently.’

  ‘Oh.’ Luke gave an unconvincing chuckle. ‘Well, would’ve been a compliment to Katie either way, right?’

  ‘Of course.’ Emily gave Katie the smile that meant she could go back to the kitchen now.

  She tried a change of subject. ‘What was the call that kept you late?’ she asked Luke.

  ‘Fender bender. This town goes to extremes, crime-wise,’ he explained to Oscar. ‘Most of the time my job consists of citing traffic offenders and rescuing cats for little old ladies. Bit of shoplifting, maybe, in tourist season. But then once in a while we get a murder. Hardly ever anything in between.’

  ‘Murder!’ Oscar’s fork clattered to his plate. ‘In a peaceful little town like this?’

  Luke opened his mouth to reply, but Emily quelled him with a look. If murder in Stony Beach made her guest that nervous, she certainly didn’t want him to know that all the recent murders had happened right here at Windy Corner. ‘Just a fluke, I’m sure,’ she said cheerfully. ‘No reason to think anything like that might happen again.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’ Oscar composed himself and took a bite of duck. His eyes closed in sheer ecstasy. ‘This is going to be the best Christmas break of my entire career. Gorgeous house, great food, congenial company – what more could a poor adjunct professor ask?’

  He beamed at Emily and she beamed back. But as she turned her eyes back to her plate, she caught a look on Luke’s face that was halfway to a glower. Good heavens, he couldn’t be jealous, could he? Oscar might share her love of literature, but one had only to look at him and Luke side by side to know which was the better man. At least the manlier man, and that was the quality in Luke that made her pulse speed up. She’d have to butter him up later, when they were alone.

  Meanwhile, she searched for a topic of mutual interest to center the conversation on, but it was like taking a snail for a run. She and Luke usually talked about happenings in the town, mutual acquaintances, and so forth, but none of that had any meaning for Oscar. Oscar knew her Reed colleagues, could fill her in on what had been happening there, but that topic made Luke’s eyes glaze over. Discussions of literature and the Portland cultural scene were even worse. What had she been thinking, inviting Luke here tonight? She and Oscar would have been much better off on their own.

  They got through dinner somehow, and after a brief interlude for coffee in the library, Oscar excused himself. He said, quite convincingly, that he was exhausted and longed only for a hot bath and a soft bed. But Emily thought perhaps a measure of tact was also involved in his retreat. He seemed like a man who would be sensitive to others’ feelings – who would understand that Luke and Emily needed a little time alone.

  Emily stood to give Oscar a goodnight handshake, then moved to the loveseat and snuggled up next to Luke. He put his arm around her with a lift of the eyebrows. ‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ he asked, planting a kiss on her forehead.

  ‘Do I need an excuse to cuddle with you?’ She turned her face up to his for a real kiss.

  ‘No, but lately seems like I’ve had to work a little harder for my cuddles.’

  ‘I guess I’ve been distracted with all the preparations. Nervous about how the retreat center would go. Now that things are off to a good start, I can relax.’

  ‘No complaints on my end.’

  They didn’t speak for several minutes, their mouths being otherwise occupied. Then Emily felt something soft and furry brush her cheek – something that had nothing to do with clean-shaven Luke.

  ‘Levin, you insidious cat, have you no decency?’ She pushed his head down, but he bobbed right back up, inserting his face between them as he touched his nose to Emily’s in a kitty kiss.

  ‘I think he’s jealous,’ Luke said. ‘He wants you all to himself.’

  ‘Tough kibbles, Levin. This is Luke’s time.’ She shoved the heavy tom off her lap, stood, and took Luke’s hand. ‘Let’s go upstairs. You haven’t seen my sitting room since I got it all gussied up.’ He had helped her move in some of the furniture, but she and her antique-dealer friend Veronica Lacey had spent several pleasant afternoons s
ince then adding all the finishing touches. The result was as perfect as Emily had imagined it would be.

  They climbed the two flights of stairs to the third floor, Emily puffing a bit by the time they reached the top. She had contemplated installing an elevator, but so far the thought of its incongruity in this elegant old house had deterred her. If she could have had one of the old-fashioned kind with the metal folding gate across the front, it wouldn’t have been so bad, but modern building codes would never allow that. She’d cope with the stairs until either her knees or her wind gave out. The exercise was good for her anyway.

  She stopped inside the doorway to the sitting room, moving aside so Luke could get the full view. Emily had found an old loveseat in the attic, which she’d had her friend Devon repair and reupholster in a bright gold-and-green chintz with splashes of brick red. This sat in front of the window and set the color scheme for the room. The low-armed wing chair with ottoman in a subdued yellow stripe was perfect for knitting in; her knitting basket stood beside it. Opposite she’d placed a brand-new, cushy club chair covered in deep brick velveteen.

  ‘That’s your chair,’ she said to Luke. ‘Try it.’

  He raised his eyebrows and lowered himself into the chair. Then he sighed in sheer bliss. ‘This has got to be the most comfortable chair I have ever sat in.’

  ‘I thought you’d like it.’ She followed his eyes around the room, trying to see it as he would. The built-in bookcase that stretched the length of the north wall was filled with some of her own books brought from Portland. They were a hodgepodge of new and old, hardcover and paperback, making for a friendlier appearance than the nearly uniform leather bindings in the library downstairs. She had chosen the pictures, lamps, rugs, and a few knick-knacks because she loved each one, not because she thought they would harmonize. But somehow, miraculously, they all fit together like grown siblings come back to the family home. The result was a room that seemed alive with her own presence.

  Luke nodded. ‘Yep. You’ve done a real nice job here.’ He turned to her with that look in his eye. ‘Almost as pretty as you.’

  She sat on the loveseat and patted the space beside her. ‘This loveseat is quite comfortable too.’

  He took the hint, and they passed a very pleasant quarter-hour. But when things threatened to get too interesting, Emily pulled back. ‘We’ve both got busy days tomorrow.’

  Luke sighed. ‘Yeah, I guess.’ He detached himself and stood. ‘Not sure how I feel about leaving you alone with a strange man in the house, though. You gonna be OK?’

  ‘You can’t seriously think Oscar’s any sort of threat – do you?’

  Luke pouched his lips and furrowed his brow. ‘Probably not to your virtue, I’ll grant you that. Fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he were – well, more Devon’s type, y’know?’

  Emily considered, remembering Oscar’s speech and mannerisms. ‘I don’t really think so. An ivory-tower type, I’d say.’

  Luke’s frown deepened. ‘You’re not reassuring me here.’

  She gave a little laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Luke. It’s perfectly clear to me there’s not a scrap of harm in the man. And he did come recommended by Marguerite, remember. She’d know if he were a closet psychopath – she’s quite a good judge of character.’

  ‘Well, all right. But will you at least lock your door?’

  She stood on tiptoe to kiss his nose. ‘For you, yes, I will lock my door.’

  She walked him downstairs and waited as he got bundled up. ‘See you tomorrow?’ he asked. ‘Or do you have to entertain your guest all day?’

  ‘Heavens, no. He’s come here to write, not to socialize. I should probably show up for meals, though.’

  ‘Does that mean our lunches at the Crab Pot are a thing of the past?’

  ‘No, not permanently. When there are more people here I should be able to come and go as I like. I just don’t want to leave Oscar to eat alone. You could come here for lunch.’

  He snorted. ‘Yeah, and make a fool of myself again like I did tonight? No thanks. You two will get along fine without me.’

  He spoke lightly, but Emily could see the tightness around his eyes. ‘I’ll drop by the office and drag you off for coffee then. Deal?’

  ‘Deal.’ His face relaxed into a genuine smile.

  Somehow, in all her plans for the writers’ retreat center, Emily had never fully considered how Luke would fit into this new phase of her life. It seemed she would need to get proficient at juggling.

  THREE

  The next morning dawned with skies more leaden than those of the day before, but still withholding whatever form of precipitation they were waiting to unleash. Emily was glad for that, as she had to drive to the south end of town to open one of her rental cottages for a new tenant. Normally her property manager would handle such things, but the entire firm had closed down for the holidays; business was usually nonexistent at this time of year.

  Emily arrived fifteen minutes early, just in case, but the tenant was not yet there. She went in and turned on the heat – the cottage seemed even colder than outdoors, having stood empty for months. A quick tour revealed everything was in order. The property managers knew their job.

  The knock came on the front door as she descended the stairs. She opened the door to a short, overthin woman who at first glance looked to be in her mid-forties. But when Emily looked more closely, she could see gray roots in the dead-black hair and fine lines beneath the liberally applied makeup. She noted the sagging jawline and stringy neck and revised her estimate up about fifteen years. The woman was further aged by the look she was wearing – skin-tight jeans tucked into knee-high stiletto-heeled boots, topped by a fake-fur jacket.

  Emily put on a smile and extended her hand. ‘I’m Emily Cavanaugh. And you must be …’ She consulted the card the manager had given her, but the other woman spoke first.

  ‘Wanda Wilkins.’ She touched Emily’s fingertips with her own still gloved, her pale blue eyes boring into Emily’s like icicles. ‘So you came yourself, did you? I figured you’d have minions to do things like that.’

  Emily was taken aback. She’d never met this woman – why the attitude? Perhaps she was simply making a poor attempt at a joke.

  Going on that assumption, Emily gave a little laugh. ‘Usually the property managers would handle it, but they’re all on Christmas break right now. It’s a rare treat for me to actually get to meet one of my tenants.’

  Ms Wilkins set down the cosmetics case she was carrying and directed a pointed look toward the luggage remaining in the open trunk of her battered sports car. Emily could see two good-sized suitcases, a carry-on briefcase/overnight bag, and a garment bag – a lot of luggage for a brief vacation. ‘Let me help you take these things to the bedroom.’

  Her tenant gave a curt nod and picked up the cosmetics case, but made no move to retrieve a second bag. Emily took the briefcase and the garment bag and headed up the stairs. If Ms Wilkins expected her to make a second trip for those heavy suitcases, she would be disappointed. Emily wasn’t about to become a bellboy in middle age.

  She pointed out the fully stocked bathroom and linen closet, then led the way downstairs, where she showed her tenant how to work the thermostat and the controls for the generator. Power loss was a not infrequent occurrence in Stony Beach’s winter storms.

  ‘There are plenty of logs for the fire, and the kitchen should have all the basics, including a few staples like coffee and spices. I’d suggest you lay in whatever groceries you’ll need right away, though – the weather looks like getting pretty bad, and the roads may be blocked soon.’

  Wanda ran her still-gloved finger along the top of a door frame and studied it with a frown. Emily knew the house was clean – could Wanda be disappointed to find it so? ‘I stopped in Tillamook on the way down. I didn’t expect a Podunk town like this to have a decent grocery store.’ She spoke with such scorn that Emily wondered why she had even deigned to grace such a backwater with her sophisticated p
resence. Stony Beach was hardly a prime winter vacation spot. Wanda would meet no aging billionaires here.

  Emily contented herself with asking, ‘How long do you plan to stay, Ms Wilkins?’

  ‘Through the holidays. My mother’s in a nursing home in Seaside.’ She named the same facility where Luke’s grandmother lived. As if talking were an effort Emily was forcing her to make against her will, she added, ‘She’s fading fast. But I have to be back at work after New Year’s.’

  ‘I’d think you’d want to stay right in Seaside then, to be closer to her.’ And to a decent grocery store.

  ‘I would, but Seaside’s too expensive on a teacher’s salary. Stony Beach is quieter and cheaper.’

  That was certainly true, and Emily made sure her rates stayed on the low side of competitive; she felt vacations by the sea should not be the privilege only of the wealthy. But the hilly drive to Seaside was likely to get treacherous if the weather turned to a full freeze. And this woman, a teacher? Emily felt sorry for her students.

  ‘In that case, I’ll need the deposit of one week’s rent up front, and the rest when you leave.’

  ‘I expected as much.’ Her tone implied only the greediest money-grubbing tycoon of a landlord would ask such a thing, although it was standard practice. She produced a check, already filled out, from her handbag, then opened the front door and stood aside for Emily to pass.

  ‘Here’s your hat, where’s your hurry?’ Emily mumbled to herself as she got in her car. She drove the few blocks to Luke’s office, feeling quite ready for that coffee they’d arranged – and for a good dose of Luke’s warm and straightforward company.

  Luke busied himself with paperwork in the office during the morning, waiting for Emily to come by. Kinda silly for him, a grown man in an established relationship, to get so antsy when she didn’t show up by ten o’clock. They hadn’t even set a time, for Pete’s sake. But Emily did that to him. Her refusal to give a straight answer to his repeated marriage proposals kept him guessing, though her behavior to him in every other way said she cared as much for him as he did for her. If only she’d make up her mind.