“No, I’m all right.” Her words came out haltingly, as if she was having trouble speaking. “All this death. It’s harder than you realize. And I miss her. We were friends for so long. She could be such a pain sometimes, but now I’m alone, with no one. No one to talk with about the old days. Martin. No one else remembers.” Her voice broke and she swayed toward me. I reached out to steady her.
“Mrs. Westin, why don’t I take you home? I think all this has been too much for you.”
With apparent effort she whispered, “They all think I know something. But I don’t! I don’t! They keep looking at me, talking to me, bringing me drinks I don’t want, just to talk to me.” She stared vacantly at the drink in her hand and muttered thickly, “Tastes awful, too.”
A prickling sensation ran down my spine. I took the drink from her. She didn’t seem to notice. I turned my head to search for Peter. Catching his eye, I frantically waved to him. But it was too late. Beside me, Linnet Westin crumpled to the ground.
CHAPTER 23
—HELEN MACINNES
I STARED DOWN at Linnet’s inert form and screamed. Peter was at my side in an instant, followed by Aunt Winnie and Randy. Peter gently picked up Linnet and laid her on the couch. Randy ran to call 911.
“What the hell happened?” Peter barked at me.
“I don’t know,” I said, staring down at Linnet’s face. Her lips were slack and beads of perspiration covered her face. She murmured indistinctly. Keeping my voice low, I added, “She said people thought she knew what Jackie was going to say. She seemed nervous and said her drink tasted funny. Then she passed out.” Peter stared at me wide-eyed. I nodded at the glass in my hand. “Is that … ?” he began.
“Yes. When the police come, I’ll give it to them. Maybe they can test it.”
Aunt Winnie knelt beside Linnet and grabbed her hand. “Linnet?” she said loudly. “It’s Winnie. You hang on. The paramedics are on their way. Everything is going to be okay. Can you hear me? It’s Winnie.”
Linnet moved her head slightly but did not raise her lids. “Linney?” she said, her voice distant and confused.
Aunt Winnie raised worried eyes to mine. “No.
Next to me, Peter whispered, “She’s delirious.”
“I know. She sounded that way before she collapsed.”
Lauren pushed through the small crowd gathered around us and stared down at Linnet. “Oh, my God!” she said, her blue eyes wide with horror. “What happened? Did she have a heart attack?”
“It would seem so,” Peter said quickly, lightly stepping on my foot. Annoyance surged through me. Did he really think I was so stupid that I was going to blurt out that I thought she’d been poisoned with the drink I now held in my hand? I debated returning the gesture—albeit a lot harder.
“How awful,” Lauren murmured.
Polly appeared with Daniel in tow. Her lipstick was smudged. I have no idea how Daniel appeared; I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. “We called 911,” Polly said. “They should be here any minute. Is there anything we can do for her?”
“I don’t think so,” said Peter. “We’d best wait for the paramedics.”
“What happened?” asked Daniel. He stood tensely, his left hand balled into a tight fist.
“They think it was a heart attack,” said Lauren. Staring at Linnet, she said, “Poor thing. It’s no wonder, really. The stress of the last few days must have gotten to her. Why, when I saw her this morning, I almost didn’t recognize her.”
“Yes,” said Polly. “I thought she looked ill, too.”
I wondered if either woman really had been fearful for Linnet’s health or if it merely made for a good cover story. The mournful wail of a siren reverberated through the room and I clutched the heavy glass a little tighter.
As they had on New Year’s, two men dressed in white raced into the room with a gurney and quickly checked a recumbent body for signs of life. Thankfully, this time their trip wasn’t for naught. In silence, we watched as Linnet was lifted onto the gurney and rushed to a waiting ambulance. The siren faded, only to be replaced with another, more ominous sound—a low, throaty cough. Detective Stewart was standing in the doorway, his bulky frame taking up most of that space. He was staring directly at me. There was little pleasure reflected in his hazel eyes. I suspected that there’d be even less after I explained to him my theory about what I now held in my hands.
I resolutely forced myself across the room to where he stood. “I have to talk to you,” I said, my voice low, “in private.”
“Imagine my surprise,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
I followed him into the foyer. “Linnet Westin was drinking this right before she collapsed.” My words tumbled over each other in a rush. “She wasn’t making too much sense, but she told me that she thought others suspected her of knowing what Jackie knew. She said that people kept pushing drinks on her and that they tasted terrible.” I thrust the glass at him. “You probably should get this tested. I bet there’s some kind of poison in it. Check for ones that make you delirious and dizzy. If you want, I could—”
But he didn’t let me finish. Roughly grabbing the glass from me and sending the amber contents sloshing violently, he leaned in so close that I could clearly make out each beat of the throbbing vein that ran down his jaw. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growled, his teeth clenched.
I looked at him in surprise. “I’m trying to help.”
“Well, unless I ask you to—don’t!”
“Are you kidding me? A woman collapses on the floor moments after telling me that people are pressing her for information and that her drink tastes funny, and you want me to … what? Mind my own business and just go home?”
“What I want is for you to let the police do their jobs and you to stay out of it. Thank you for the drink sample,
I’m not sure what I was going to say, but it was probably for the best that one of the sergeants came into the foyer. He eyed me suspiciously and said, “Detective Stewart? Could I speak to you for a moment?”
Detective Stewart took a deep breath and nodded. He stepped toward the sergeant and then turned back to me. Giving me a level look, he said, “I hope I’ve made myself clear.”
“Crystal,” I snapped back.
The throbbing of the vein in his jaw accelerated and I was suddenly afraid it would explode. I wondered if I had pushed him too far. He glowered, but I held my ground and willed myself not to look away. Without another word, he turned and stalked out of the foyer. I sank down on one of the antique chairs that lined the hall, my bravado spent.
By the time the police finished taking everyone’s statement, it was late afternoon. We piled into Aunt Winnie’s car, none of us saying much. Next to me in the backseat, Peter called the hospital and tried to get information on Linnet’s condition. I listened closely to his end of the conversation, even though it was difficult to comprehend anything given his penchant for monosyllabic responses. Up front, Aunt Winnie seemed intent on besting her own personal speed record. Randy sat calmly beside her, apparently immune to her crazy driving. Frankly, I was astounded at the almost Zen-like serenity he exuded in the face of obvious danger. But when he didn’t flinch after our near miss with a snowplow, I realized the reason for his composure. He had taken off his glasses. Virtually blind without them, he rode in blissful oblivion. Clearly he had ridden with Aunt Winnie before. After what seemed an eternity, Peter snapped his cell phone shut and sagged into his seat.
“Well?” I said.
“She’s going to be fine,” Peter said. “She was poisoned—with digitalis, apparently, but thankfully, it wasn’t a
