A Geek Girl's Guide to Arsenic Read online

  He lifted his eyes to his brother in the distance before returning to my inquisition. “Did you speak to the v—Mr. Francis before he died? Maybe see him interacting with someone? How did he seem to you?”

  “He was fine. We talked a few minutes before he got sick.”

  Jake’s shoulders drooped. “You were with him when he died?”

  “Until the EMTs arrived. Yes.”

  “And?”

  “He came to visit around four, I think. We talked and I gave him some wassail. He tried our hand cream. It was a typical encounter for us.”

  A commotion turned Jake away. The Action News reporter forced her way through the reformed human barricade, calling for her henchmen to follow. She shoved a microphone between Jake and me. “Did you say you gave the dead man something to drink before he died?”

  My mouth opened and closed. I looked to Jake.

  “That’s it.” He widened his stance and braced long tan fingers over narrow hips. “Get out. This is a police investigation.”

  “I’m covering a breaking story. I have a right to be here.”

  “Cover your story from over there.” He outstretched an arm in the direction of the front gates. “You’re disturbing the crime scene. Get back. Get lost. Beat it.”

  She inched back, leaning her mic and torso in my direction. “Crime scene? Did you say the man also tried your hand cream? What was the cause of death?” Her eyes dropped to Jake’s badge. “US Marshal? What kind of investigation is this?”

  Jake shoved her cameraman. “Get back or I’ll charge you with obstruction.”

  The man removed the camera from his shoulder and hustled to set up again on the far side of our booth, while the reporter repeated her new information on air. Her attention darted back to us every few moments, making me more uncomfortable by the second.

  “You okay?” Jake lifted a hand in my direction but dropped it at his side.

  I swung my chin left and right. “Nope.” Not even a little.

  “Agent Archer!” A man in gray slacks and a pinstriped button-down jogged to Jake’s side. “Sorry. I guess it’s Marshal Archer now.” They shook hands and exchanged easy smiles.

  The badge on the man’s pocket identified him as the medical examiner. He’d shed his jacket and rolled both shirt sleeves to the elbows. A navy jacket hung over one arm. He could’ve come for the jousting and no one would’ve known the difference.

  I stilled myself, hoping to hear something that made sense.

  He handed Jake a baggie with a cell phone. “We took this from the victim’s pocket. No identification. A handful of cash, small bills. The team’s bagging those. You wanted the phone.”

  Jake nodded, wholly focused on the baggie in hand. “Anything else?”

  The man turned his back to me and lowered his voice. “Cause of death looks like poison.”

  My tummy flattened against my spine. “Accidental poisoning? Like a prescription snafu or allergic reaction?”

  Jake and the ME looked my way.

  An apologetic smile lifted and dropped from the ME’s lips.

  Jake groaned. “Mia. Maybe you can wait inside your booth until I’m ready for the rest of our interview.”

  The Action News reporter popped back into place. “Poison?” Her crew adjusted cameras and boom mics from a few feet away.

  Jake took a giant step in my direction, blocking me from the camera’s view. “Never mind. Stay here.” He returned his attention to the ME. “Any idea how?”

  “Not yet. No signs of needle marks. Maybe something topical or ingested. We’ll know more after a tox screen and autopsy.”

  Jake pinched the bridge of his nose and swore before turning anguished eyes on me. “Mia. I’ll need the cup Mr. Francis used and the wassail.”

  I guffawed. “You can’t seriously think...”

  He lifted a hand overhead. “I need evidence bags over here.”

  The medical examiner made a hasty escape.

  Shock jolted me into obstinacy. “You can’t be serious. You think I did this? Are you insane?”

  The reporter snapped her fingers and fluffed her oversized hair. She used my family’s booth as her new backdrop. “Mindy Kinley reporting from Ye Ole Madrigal Craft Faire with breaking news. The man who died suddenly this past hour is believed to have been poisoned. Officers are talking with a representative of Guinevere’s Golden Beauty products, where the man sampled hand cream and accepted a cup of wassail moments before his death. A little wassail? A sample of hand cream? Which do you think killed him, Ohio? You can head over to my web page and vote until five.”

  Jake cleared his throat. “I’m going to need that hand cream, too.”

  I slipped into the booth and lifted the Healer’s Hand sampler from the counter. Jake stayed in my way, annoying but protective, limiting the camera’s access.

  He stuck a sticky note on the lid. “They’ll bag the product and take it in for a closer look. We need to rule it out.”

  I nodded.

  Grandma stormed past, cell phone in hand. Her humble servant’s robe and apron flapped in the wind under a fierce enough stare to take out an army.

  “Uh-oh.” I gripped the sleeve of Jake’s windbreaker. “This isn’t good.”

  Grandma shook her phone at the reporter. “You air that hokum and my lawyers will have you serving salads at Betty’s Burgers by sundown.”

  “Here we go.” I needed a paper bag to puff into or an oxygen mask or a getaway car. Something. Anything.

  Mom and Dad rushed to Grandma’s side.

  “Mia!” Nate jogged into the booth. His enormous hands wrapped my wrists and pulled them to his chest. “Now what happened?” He looked to Jake when I didn’t respond.

  My family thundered and shrieked behind us. Grandma protested the implication that her product killed a man, while Dad and Tom tried fruitlessly to settle her.

  I pressed my forehead against Nate’s wool coat. “Should I help? Should I let them handle it? I have no idea.” I peeked at the chaos with one eye. “I think they’re making it worse.” I turned for a better view.

  Nate chuckled. “No. It looks like Bree’s got this.”

  Thank goodness.

  Bree was the epitome of calm before the camera. A completely non-Connors-like disposition. If she hadn’t been my identical twin and dressed as a harlot, it would’ve helped.

  I pressed icy hands to my face. “Is this happening?”

  Nate wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me against the sharp V of his side. “Maybe you need to sit down. I think you’re having a panic attack.”

  “Am not.” I gasped through a too-tight throat.

  Jake moved into our personal space. “Nate.”

  “Jake.”

  “Does she have attacks often?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I. Am. Fine.” My cheeks and neck burned as oxygen escaped from my lungs.

  Nate slid his gaze my way. “She went through a lot over the summer. It took a toll.”

  “I’m fine.” My dress was shrinking and the earth was tilted, but what could I do about that?

  Jake’s expression softened. “So you are human. You’ve made me wonder a few times.”

  “Shut up.”

  He parted his lips in the lazy half-smile I loved. “Can you tell me anything else about the moments before John Francis collapsed?”

  “I don’t think so. He was fine. Then he wasn’t.”

  Jake lifted the plastic bag with John’s cell phone. “His phone has a reminder set for three. An appointment with Surly Wench. Does that mean anything to you?”

  I pointed across the dusty path to a line of eateries. “Surly Wench is a pub. Oh! Huzzah!”

  “Huzzah!” A chorus rang up in echo.

  Jake st
artled. “What the hell?”

  Nate laughed. “It’s a rennie thing. A custom.”

  “Rennie?”

  I hiked my heavy skirts up and dashed the short distance to the trash bin. “Rennies are people who regularly attend the Faires or work here. Look.” I hovered a finger over the trash. The setting sun threw shadows across the bin’s contents. “John threw a cup away after he got to my booth. I wonder if he got it at Surly Wench?” The cup inside the receptacle seemed larger. Nondescript.

  Jake poked the cup-in-question with his pen and snapped on a pair of plastic gloves. “I need those bags.” His voice shot through the hoopla.

  The ME dashed to meet us, professing apologies. “Sorry. Dan had some questions.” He shivered. “This place is my living nightmare. Like being stuck in a circus after hours.”

  Jake bagged the cup and handed it to the ME.

  Twinkle lights snapped on across the out-of-season fairgrounds turned temporary Renaissance village, illuminating booths and pathways around the field.

  The ME looked at me. “Sorry about what I said.” He motioned to my Queen Guinevere costume.

  I nodded in full acceptance. “Whatever. It’s my circus. They’re my monkeys.”

  Dan moseyed back across the lawn to meet us, with a mischievous smile. “You two crazy kids get caught up?”

  Jake dragged his gaze from my face to Dan’s. “The vic was poisoned. He drank from this cup before talking with Mia.”

  Dan scratched in his notebook.

  Jake nodded toward my booth. “Then Mia gave him something else to drink and he sampled her family’s hand cream.”

  “Yeesh.” Dan made another note. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, we’ve got a reminder in his phone for three o’clock. Doesn’t say with who, but looks like they met at one of the pubs over there. Surly Wench.”

  Dan cocked an eyebrow. “I know who he met.”

  “You do?” I jumped to his side. “Who?’

  He smiled. “Funny seeing you again like this. You don’t believe in coincidence, but here you are. So what do you call this?”

  “Unfortunate.”

  He winked. “Maybe.”

  We followed Dan to the coroner’s van parked inside the replica castle gates. Nate kept one hand on the small of my back, reminding me he was still there. Jake kept his distance. Energy zipped and whirled through the air around us like The Flash trying to counteract a tornado. I couldn’t pinpoint the cause, but then again, I’d never claimed to understand people. Especially not any in possession of a Y-chromosome.

  The crowd near the gates had thinned to a handful of curious Faire workers and a couple dozen stragglers. A pair of uniformed officers restrained a screaming woman near the coroner van. Her mix of love professions and Victorian swears stopped me short.

  The officers handed the woman off to Dan and hurried away.

  Dan addressed the woman. “We have a few more questions.”

  She smoothed her skirts and wiped her mascara-stained eyes before folding freckled arms across her middle. Her wool cape blew behind her in the nipping wind. “No.”

  “No?” Jake barked.

  Her lip trembled. “No.”

  I stepped forward on instinct, a layer of padding between her and the Archer brothers. “Here.” I handed her my handkerchief and tugged the cape around her shoulders.

  She clutched the material to her chest and buried her head in the crook of my neck.

  I startled.

  She bawled.

  Dan cleared his throat. “Your name is Melanie Warner. Correct?”

  She took a step away from me and rubbed her face. “Sorry. Yes. I’m Melanie.” Natural strawberry-blond curls adhered to her cheeks and neck, wet with tears and anguish.

  “You knew the deceased?” he continued.

  Her brows furrowed, and swears from every era burst from her mouth.

  Dan squirmed. “Hey. It’s okay.” He lifted a steady hand in her direction.

  She nearly broke it off. “Don’t touch me!”

  He snatched his hand away. “I wasn’t.”

  Jake raised his palms. “Ma’am, we need you to answer these questions. It’s not an option. You can talk to us here or we can take you downtown, let you catch your breath and you can answer when you’re ready. The choice is yours.”

  She turned to face the coroner’s van and started swearing again.

  Dan reached for his handcuffs. He wasn’t a time waster, and he was all business, like his brother. Handsome, too, but that was standard in Archer DNA.

  Jake glared at me and pointed at Melanie. “A little help.”

  “Fine.” I leaned into her line of sight. “Hi. Hey. You’re clearly angry with John. It’s obvious you knew him. Did something happen between you?”

  Melanie gripped the red cape tightly to her middle. Her freckled cheeks puffed with rage. “Yeah, something happened. The no-good scoundrel knocked me up and dumped me! I hate him!” She flung herself at the loaded gurney and hugged the bag’s end. Swears turned to sobs. “I need you, Johnny! You no-good, cheating jerk!”

  Well, that explained a lot.

  Chapter Three

  Jake and Dan spoke privately with Melanie as the fairgrounds emptied, leaving Nate and me to stew.

  I motioned to the officers stationed at the gates. “What did you find out from them?”

  Nate dipped his head and lowered his voice. “They wanted to know who I was. If I’d ever been here before. Which shops I’d visited. If I noticed anything unusual while I was here. They took my name and contact information and said the Craft Faire would send me replacement tickets for another day.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “Basically, everyone is a suspect and they want to know how to reach us.”

  I fingered the soft velvet material of my sleeve. Unfortunately, everyone wasn’t the last person seen with him, or the one who offered him a drink and hand cream right before he died. That was me.

  The officers released the final handful of shoppers and pulled the gates shut. Only workers remained.

  I scanned the area for answers. For an indication I was dreaming.

  Nate lowered his voice. “I climbed the fence twice today unnoticed. If I can, anyone can. I’m not exactly hard to spot.”

  In other words, the cops wouldn’t find the killer by collecting names at the front gate. “I don’t know. The killer might’ve hidden in plain sight.”

  “What do you think happened? Did you know anyone who didn’t like John? Did someone here have a beef with him? Competition? Girlfriend?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  “Poison requires a plan, Mia. Someone plotted this.”

  I gnawed the tender skin along the side of one fingernail and winced.

  “Can you think of anyone?”

  I dropped my hand to my side to avoid permanent damage. “Jake said John met someone at Surly Wench. The appointment was saved in his phone’s reminders.”

  “Well, then. What are we waiting for?”

  I stole a look at the Archers, fully engrossed in their interrogation. “Okay. Let’s go.” My voice cracked with uncertainty as memories of our last investigation clawed at my chest.

  We slipped along storefronts into shadows cast by swinging signage and flapping striped overhangs. A storm was coming. Warning winds whipped abandoned leaves into tiny hurricanes at my ankles. Suddenly, the place I loved seemed too much like the Night Circus.

  Nate slowed several yards from my family booth. “Should we check in?”

  I changed trajectory, caught in the sights of my too-vigilant father. “Okay. Yeah.”

  Dad crossed the grass and met us halfway. “We’re packing up. Meet us at home. We’ve got some PR work to do after those news repor
ts.”

  “Sure. Nate will drive me to my car and I’ll come right over.”

  Nate bobbed his head in silent agreement.

  “Good.” Dad narrowed his eyes on us. “Where were you headed just now?”

  “What?” I put my giant owl eyes to use in one of their most natural expressions: Who, me?

  Dad worked his jaw side to side. “Nate?”

  “We’re going to Surly Wench.”

  I puffed my cheeks.

  “Mia!” Dad scolded. “You’ve got to stay as far away from this as possible. Your grandmother’s having a stroke over the bad publicity. She’s got three lawyers on the line and your mother’s calling the Action News station to threaten them with a libel suit. Bree and Tom are on damage control. You can’t be caught meddling.”

  “I’m not.”

  The Connors Clan approached with long faces, bundled to their foreheads in coats and scarves. Mom wrestled a jumble of bags in one hand. “Everyone ready?”

  Dad moved to her side, unloading her burden. “I was just inviting Nate to join us at home.”

  “Okay. Thank you.” Mom motioned us to fall in line. “You’re welcome anytime, Nate.”

  Nate and I trudged back to the front gates under the power of my family’s influence. It was the way I did most things I’d rather not do. An ex-boyfriend had once suggested I be ashamed of the control my family had over me. He didn’t understand our unconventional team mentality. He saw the dynamic as a flaw. I saw him to the door.

  Sure, we were different, opinionated and a little nutty, but we were family and we stuck together.

  Dad kissed my cheek. “I’m going to bring the car around. I’ll see you at the house?”

  “Yep.”

  He glanced at Nate for confirmation, clearly not trusting me to stay out of this.

  Nate smiled.

  I waited until his silhouette disappeared into the muddy parking lot and grabbed Mom’s arm. “I’m going to say goodbye to Dan and let him know we’re available if he has any other questions.”

  She shot me a distracted smile. “Good idea.”

  Nate set his hand on her shoulder. “It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Connors. If you need anything...”