“Why is there a puppy here?” asked Charlotte scooping the adorable ball of fur into her arms.
Frank shrugged. “Guess it was a Christmas present.”
“So cute.” Charlotte nuzzled it as it licked her face. “Oof. Puppy breath, though. Yikes.”
She walked the dog to the table and stared at the empty plate. “So you think it really was the stollen? It was poisoned? You should take this plate too. It might be coated with something.”
Frank frowned. “First off, we’re going to take the plate, Sherlock. Second, who said the stollen was poisoned?”
“Darla.”
Charlotte watched Frank’s jaw clench.
“That woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut if it was wired. I never said Alice was poisoned.”
“She said you said it looked suspicious.”
“I said her face looked funny. Bloated maybe.” He waved a hand in the air. “I don’t know. I’m not a damn toxicologist. Right now we’re just wrapping up everything she might have eaten.”
“But you found her here? At the table?”
Frank nodded. “She was slumped here, halfway through a piece of stollen.”
“So if she was poisoned, the stollen is the obvious culprit.”
“Sure, but no one ever said she was poisoned. Who would poison Alice? Give Darla another ten minutes and she’ll be telling people it could have been alien abduction.”
Charlotte chuckled. “Did she have anything to drink? Coffee?”
“Tea. And yes, we took that too. Cup and all.”
Charlotte strolled around the house, shifting the puppy from arm to arm to keep it from squirming away, allowing her gaze to sweep across the counters and tabletops, searching for anything out of the ordinary.
“There’s no puppy stuff.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s no puppy stuff,” Charlotte repeated, checking the kitchen to be sure.
“It was in the box. It probably did its business in there.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Not that kind of puppy stuff. I mean when you get a new puppy, don’t you buy bowls and collars and food and whatnot?”
“I suppose.” Frank turned to look at the box the puppy had been in. “Maybe she’d just bought it. It was still in the box.”
“You’re making it sound like she had it shipped from Amazon.” The pup made a leap to escape to the ground and Charlotte wrestled it back to her chest.
“They sell everything else,” muttered Frank. “Last week Darla ordered a zombie garden gnome for the yard. Who comes up with this stuff?”
“Actually, the box brings up a good point. It means she was out of the house picking up the puppy, doesn’t it? That opens up a million other ways she could have been poisoned.”
“Again, I never said she was poisoned.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Maybe someone brought the dog to her.”
“That would mean someone was here, and you have another suspect.”
Frank’s lower teeth dragged at the ends of his mustache as he stared at her. “You want me to pack up and just let you finish up here?”
Charlotte grinned. “No. Just trying to be helpful.”
Frank grunted and jotted something on the notepad he kept in his back pocket.
Charlotte peeked into the bedroom and spotted half a dozen pill bottles by the bed. “I hate to say it, but I’m kind of happy for her.”
Frank’s brow knit. “Who? Alice?”
Charlotte nodded. “You couldn’t say her name without someone mentioning how much pain she was in. Maybe her death is a blessing.”
Frank nodded. “By all accounts she was one of the nicest, bravest little ladies in the neighborhood. Didn’t deserve half of what life dealt her.”
“True. And who would want to poison her?”
The corners of Frank’s mustache drooped as he looked away, drawing Charlotte’s curiosity. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking about Alice’s mouth. I’ll admit, I don’t think it was the lupus that did her in. Paramedics said her tongue was swollen and she probably died of ana—ana—”
“Anaphalaxis?”
Frank nodded. “That one.”
“Who found her?”
“Crystal.”
Charlotte scowled at the mention of Alice’s granddaughter. The young woman had been freeloading at her grandmother’s house, living off her social security and teacher’s pension checks for months.
“I almost forgot about her. Where is she? Was she here when Alice died?”
Frank shook his head. “She was working. Came home for lunch.”
“You think she might have had something to do with it?”
“Nah. Why would she kill her own grandmother, let alone her meal ticket? Alice was probably worth more alive than dead.” Frank hung his thumbs in his belt and seemed to chew on his last thought. “Probably. Crystal’s a piece of work, though. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind she might have gotten tired of waiting.”
“For an inheritance?”
“Yup.”
“But you don’t think there’s a chance all the stollen was poisoned, do you? We bought back what Mariska sold at the bazaar, but we were one short in the count and I’m a little worried about it.”
“Hm.”
“Maybe I should start knocking on doors, just in case? Or I could keep an eye on Mac. He’d eaten most of one before we—”
Charlotte cut short as Frank’s phone rang. He answered it while she grappled to keep the puppy’s razor sharp teeth away from her lips. For some reason the little squirt seemed to be interested in biting them off.
“Frank here. What? You sure? All right, keep her there a bit longer. I’m on my way.” Frank hung up. “Nuts.”
“What’s wrong?” asked Charlotte.
“That’s what’s wrong. Nuts. Crystal says her grandmother had a nut allergy. They checked the stollen and think they smelled pecans, but they couldn’t actually find any. They’re having someone test it now.”
“Don’t stollens always have nuts?”
“Do they? Why would she make stollens if she’s allergic?”
“She might be allergic to one kind of nut but not another. Maybe they don’t have nuts...” A tingly feeling of dread settled over Charlotte’s shoulders
