“Yes, please.” Mary’s kitchen was homey with red and white checked curtains and a red and white checked tablecloth on the small round table in the kitchen. There were ceramic pigs on the counter near the sink, and the kitchen was neat and clean.
“I still can’t believe this happened,” she said and brought the cream from the refrigerator and set it on the table next to a sugar bowl. Then she picked up the cups of coffee and set them on the table.
“I can’t imagine what you must be going through,” I told her.
She nodded absently. “Why don’t we have a slice of pie with our coffee?”
“That would be nice. Would you like me to cut it?”
She nodded again, still smiling sadly. “That would be nice.”
She got some plates and forks out while I got busy cutting the pie. I put a piece for each of us on plates, and we sat down at the table to drink our coffee.
“I’m so sorry about Richard. Was he sick recently?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “No, he was doing well. He was so proud of his job, and he would tell me all the time what they were doing down there. Whose event they were catering and what dishes they were making. He never had an interest in cooking before, but he picked it up quickly.”
“That’s wonderful that he enjoyed himself. He got sick at my reception. I don’t know if you knew that. We did our best to help him until the ambulance got there.” I hated to say it, but I was sure she must know.
She nodded, looking at her cup of coffee. “I’m so sorry. That must have been difficult for you to deal with at your wedding reception.”
I shook my head. “I was more concerned about him. And I’m so sorry that he didn’t make it.”
She sighed and took a sip of her coffee before setting the cup down. She picked up her fork before saying anything and looked at me. “They’re saying that he took a large dose of a diabetic medication. But he wasn’t diabetic.”
“Is it a possibility that he was sick, and he just didn’t tell you?” I asked. I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that, but I needed to ask.
She shook her head and cut a piece of the pie with the edge of her fork and took a bite. She smiled. “This is a wonderful pie. You have such talent.”
I chuckled. “Thank you. I do like to hear that people enjoy my baking.”
She nodded. “You should be proud of it. The crust is so flaky. But no, he wasn’t sick. He would have mentioned to me if he was having any kind of health issues and the doctor at the hospital said the dose he took was far too large for anyone to take.”
I wanted to ask her if she thought he was doing drugs. Lucy and I had wondered if maybe he had bought some drugs from somebody, and they had slipped these in as a fake for something else, but I didn’t know how to ask that question. “This has to be so difficult for you and your other son.”
She nodded. “Skip can’t believe his brother is gone.”
“Were they close?” I took a bite of my pie. Mary was right, it was tasty. When you’ve baked as many pies as I have, it was almost impossible to make a mistake.
She hesitated before answering. “Well, the boys were always at one another when they were younger. They were very different people. Skip is very studious and quiet, while Richard was loud and boisterous. But as they got older, they got closer. It’s not that they always got along, but it certainly was a lot better than when they were younger.” She chuckled sadly. “And now, this.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded. “The detective thinks he was murdered. But I just can’t imagine how that could have happened. He would have to have taken the pills and known he was taking something, right?”
I looked up at her and hesitated. “Maybe. Unless they were slipped to him. Or unless he thought they were something else. Is it a possibility that he thought he was taking something else?” There. I had to ask it.
She stared at me and shook her head slowly. “I can’t imagine that happening. Richard was a good boy. Sure, he got into trouble when he was younger, but he was a good boy. And yes, when he was in high school, he got mixed up with the wrong crowd, and he did get into drugs. But he put that behind him a long time ago.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “I’m glad that he was able to escape the drugs. That’s a difficult thing to do.”
But if he had escaped using drugs, how had he managed to take these? It was something that I needed to know.
She nodded and took a sip of her coffee. “I told Alec that he couldn’t have taken them on purpose. Somebody had to have slipped them to him somehow, without his knowledge.”
She was probably right, but how would they have done it?
“I’m sure Alec will figure out who killed him.” I wanted to be able to tell her something that would ease the burden that she was now bearing with the loss of her son. But I knew there wasn’t anything I could say that would make her feel better.
“The funeral won’t be until next week. I think I need that long to deal with the thought that I have to plan his funeral.” Her eyes teared up as
