The mushrooms were sent to the lab, and the lab quickly confirmed Kait’s suspicions. They were chlorophyllum molybdites.
“I wish the lab could tell me how they got in my car,” Kait said. The police had checked to see if any of the businesses had security cameras that swept the parking lot, but none did. The pier cafe didn’t have security cameras, so there was no way to check whether Landon had slipped them into her purse.
It was between the morning and evening shifts. In the main restaurant, a skeleton crew was running the swing shift that bridged morning and evening, but she, Gray, and Ana were alone at a small booth in the back of the bar.
“I wish the lab could tell you how they got in our food,” Gray said grimly. The security cameras had been installed two hours too late to review what had happened on the food prep line the day Jessica Browning was poisoned. There was no way to prove that Landon had—or hadn’t—been behind it.
The bell above the front door tinkled, and all three looked up automatically. Landon stepped into the lobby. His gaze swept the restaurant until he found them.
Gray was already on his feet when he reached the booth. “You’re not welcome here, Landon.”
“I don’t worry about a welcome when my money is involved,” Landon said briefly. He was sorry to be a dick to his oldest friend, but he didn’t have time for this. He looked directly at Kait, “The Canton Canteen is planning a story. I’m on my way to stop it, but this is going to get out one way or another.”
Kait’s heart twisted in her chest. It really was happening all over again. The story would come out, and business would drop off steeply. And if it followed the script of fifteen years ago, just as the story was dying down, something would happen to scare off even the most loyal customers. And then the LeClarks would leave town. For good this time. She looked past Landon to Gray, who stared wordlessly back to her. She knew he was imagining the same calamitous montage.
“Is there anything you can do?” Ana asked Landon. “Ask your mom to step in. Isn’t she chief influencer in New Canton?”
“Ask your mom to step out,” Kait corrected icily.
Landon didn’t disagree, but he was planning to see Martha after he went by the Canteen. “If I can’t stop the story, it might help to have you and Gray on the record in it,” he said. Public relations wasn’t his thing, but he hated the idea of another one-sided smear piece.
“No way in hell,” Kait said, and Gray agreed. Neither of them had any reason to put their faith in The Canton Canteen.
Landon didn’t waste time arguing with her. “Is it true someone put poisonous mushrooms in your car?”
“Or in my purse when they saw me on the pier.”
“For fucks sake, Kait—”
“I’ll go with you,” Gray cut him off. Not so he could go on record, but so he could see for himself how hard Landon was really trying to stop the forward momentum of this thing. “Kait, can you cover for me until I get back?”
Kait nodded. For now, she and Gray were the only two with the capability to override and issue refunds in the system. The next item on their agenda had been to find a trusted assistant manager, but that had slipped to the bottom of the list with everything going on. “Be careful.”
Out in the parking lot, Landon was elaborately polite. “Do you trust me to drive, Grayson, or would you like to do the honors?”
Gray rolled his eyes. “You can drive.”
“Smart choice. That piece of crap Honda you drive around in is deadlier than the mushrooms.”
Gray didn’t rise to the bait. He’d known Landon long enough to know that Kait’s digs had gotten to him. “Did your assistant let you know that I’m out of the Atlantia?”
“You didn’t have to leave.”
“I couldn’t stay. Kait wouldn’t move in, and she couldn’t stay alone.”
“She didn’t have to.”
The drive to the Canteen offices was tense but mercifully short. They owned a historic brick building that was covered in climbing ivy and overlooked the river. An old water wheel still turned in the pond beside it.
The picturesque scene didn’t change Gray’s opinion though. “I hate this place,” he sighed, getting out.
Landon nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
It was clear from the double-take of the receptionist and the few employees that they passed that Landon James was not a familiar figure at the Canteen. Ted Jensen, the editor-in-chief, looked nervous when he came to meet them. He poured them all a glass of water in his office but dispensed with further pleasantries. “You’re wasting your time, Mr. James. As I told you when you called, I’m not killing the story.” He looked at Gray. “It’s nothing personal toward LeClarks, I’ve been there twice myself since you reopened, but this is in the best interest of the public.”
Gray groaned silently. He had a feeling that nothing got between Ted Jensen and the best interest of the public. He saw Landon sizing the man up and coming to the same conclusion.
Landon’s brow furrowed as he considered his options. The shit was definitely going to hit the fan, but maybe there was a way to make it splatter away from the LeClarks. “How long have you been with the Canteen, Ted?”
“Twenty years,” Ted said. “Seven as editor-in-chief. Why do you ask?”
“So you were here when LeClarks was making news fifteen years ago.”
Ted nodded.
“Doesn’t it strike you as suspicious that the exact same thing is happening again?” Landon prodded, hoping Ted came from an investigative reporter background. Not that there was much to be investigated in New Canton.
Ted sighed and glanced apologetically at Gray before looking away. “It strikes me
