That’s how it started. After leaving Yamamoto’s Sushi Bar and Bait Shop, we took the limo to Wingate Manor. It was quite a snazzy joint.
Mabel introduced me around as the son of an old school chum who was down on his luck and would be living in for the next week. The living in part came as a surprise, but I didn’t complain. After all, the place was like a luxury resort complete with pool, sauna, a tennis court, stables, and a television in every bedroom. No wonder the two daughters, the son and their assorted mates weren’t eager to move out.
None of them struck me as killers. That came as no big surprise, since I’d already decided Mabel’s deck was short a few cards.
At cocktail hour, we all sat around the pool. George the butler passed out drinks. I wanted Scotch, but I got a vodka gimlet - the same drink as Mabel. After I took a sip, she managed to switch glasses with me. She was quite artful about switching. I don’t think anyone caught on.
George passed around a tray of snacks. Canapes, Mabel called them. Since I was the guest, she said, I should be first to help myself. I ate one. It was a miniature sandwich with liver inside. I’m not big on liver, but it sure beat sushi. I didn’t keel over. Mabel took one.
Later, the rest of the clan headed into the dining room. I could smell a roast. My stomach grumbled. I had one foot in the dining room when Mabel grabbed my arm and stopped me.
‘Duke and I will be dining later,’ she told the others. ‘We have some matters to discuss.’
She led me into the study. ‘I can’t let them see that I’ve hired a taster,’ she explained.
‘No,’ I muttered. ‘I guess not.’
‘They’d know I’m onto their game.’
‘Right,’ I said.
Bananas.
I could have used a few bananas, just then.
Finally, the dining room was cleared. Our turn. The roast was cold, but it tasted great. Mabel watched and waited. I poured gravy over my mashed potatoes. I took a big bite. She raised her eyebrows. I sipped the red wine. I ate a yucky chunk of broccoli.
We stared at each other.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.
‘Starved.’
‘You’re doing splendidly,’ she said. We traded plates and glasses.
This went on for the next five days. Breakfast, lunch, cocktails and dinner, whether we were taking our meal at the estate or at a restaurant, I tested all the food and drinks first. Then we switched, and Mabel ate her fill. Except for one return trip to Yamamoto’s, it wasn’t half bad.
I spent my days swimming, riding horses, and sometimes playing tennis with members of the clan. A certain son-in-law named Aaron showed a nasty streak on the courts. He liked to slam balls at my face. He was a doctor when he wasn’t hanging around the estate. If I had to pick a poisoner, it would have been him.
But I didn’t have to pick.
Nobody had any intention of poisoning Mabel. She didn’t need a private eye or a food taster. She needed a shrink.
I knew that all along.
On Friday afternoon, four hours after our second trip to Yamamoto’s, my stomach couldn’t hold out for the cocktail hour. I snuck into the kitchen. Elsie the cook wasn’t around. The snacks were ready. I took a loaded tray of canapes out of the refrigerator, set it on the counter, and picked up one of the tiny sandwiches. Muffin, who had grown very fond of my boots during the past few days, was busy gnawing at my ankle. I peeled open one of the snacks and sniffed it. Liver, yuck. I tossed it across the kitchen, and Muffin went scampering after it.
The dog gobbled it down.
Muffin may or may not have been poisoned by the canape. Its ticker might’ve just chosen that moment to go on the fritz.
Sure.
Mabel wasn’t bananas, after all.
In a way, that made me feel good. I’d grown fond of the old dame. I was glad to find out she wasn’t a loony.
I returned the tray of poisoned snacks to the refrigerator. Then I stashed the mortal remains of Muffin in the pantry and went up to my room to fetch Slugger.
Slugger is my.38 caliber snub-nosed revolver. I don’t have a permit to carry a concealed weapon (it got lifted after I dropped that client mentioned earlier), but I didn’t plan to go up against a killer without my equalizer, so I tucked Slugger under my belt. I pulled out my shirt-tail to keep him out of sight, and went outside to the pool.
By five o’clock, the whole gang was there.
‘Has anyone seen Muffin?’ Mabel asked.
Nobody had seen Muffin. That included me.
George came out with a tray of cocktails. We took our glasses. I sipped. Mabel tried to sneak her usual switch, but I shook my head. ‘Not necessary,’ I whispered. She raised her eyebrows, then smiled.
She looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot, then whispered, ‘Have you unearthed the killer?’
George returned with the tray of poisoned appetizers.
‘Put them on the table,’ I ordered.
‘I’m to pass them, sir,’ he said.
‘Do as Duke says,’ Mabel told him.
With a nod, George set the tray on the poolside table. ‘Now,’ I said, ‘go and bring out the other servants. Everyone.’ He left.
Sally, the wife of Aaron the doctor, saw George depart without passing snacks. ‘What gives?’ she asked.
‘This gives,’ I answered, and pulled out Slugger.
Everyone except Mabel started yelling at me. ‘See here!’ I heard. And, ‘Put that away!’ And, ‘He’s berserk!’ One of Mabel’s daughters covered her ears and shouted, ‘Oh oh oh, he’s going to murder us all!’
‘Quiet!’ Mabel called out. ‘Duke is a private detective whom I hired to protect me.’
That shut them up. Some looked surprised, others confused, a few miffed. Aaron looked more miffed than anyone. I was glad he didn’t have a tennis racquet handy.
‘Line up,’ I commanded.
They formed a line with their backs to the pool.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ Sally asked.
‘You’ll soon find out,’ I said.
When the servants showed up, I made them stand in line with the rest of the gang.
‘Mabel,’ I said. ‘The tray.’
She went to the table and hefted the tray.
‘One canape apiece,’ I told her.
She walked slowly down the line of eleven suspects, making sure that each of them took one of the little sandwiches.
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘When I count to three, I want every one of you to eat your snack.’
‘This is ridiculous!’ snapped Sally.
‘Just a little test,’ I explained. I didn’t bother playing games with the count. I rattled off, ‘One two three.’
They all ate.
Except Aaron. He threw his canape at me.
