nose, “because I’m too young.”
Well, thank God he added that, I thought. At least I didn’t break
Schulz gave me a brief smile.
“Did you stay over at the coffee machine?” Schulz asked. “The whole time, I mean.”
“No. I had to do the lemonade too, see, and we only had two pitchers. So sometimes I had to come out to the kitchen to fill those up.”
“Did you see what your grandfather was eating or drinking?”
Arch thought. “I guess Fritz had some of the food, because he came over for a glass of wine. But I didn’t see him eat. Later he wanted a cup of coffee. I don’t think he likes lemonade.”
“Fritz.”
“That’s what I call him,” said Arch. “My grandfather.”
“He’s always called his grandparents by their first—” I started to explain.
Schulz held his hand up to me.
“Did you see Fritz drink the wine?” asked Schulz. “Did you see what he did with his glass?”
“No,” said Arch, “I didn’t see either.”
“Before Fritz got sick, did he drink anything else?”
“Let’s see,” said Arch. “Okay, now I remember. We were out of lemonade and my mom was making some in the kitchen. A lot of people had been asking for it. Fritz was, let’s see, he was talking to Trixie, the woman who teaches the exercise class, you know? And when she came over for coffee …” Arch paused to think. “No, wait a minute, she doesn’t drink coffee. I remember now because she wanted lemonade. We didn’t have any yet so she asked me if we had any herb tea.”
Schulz drew his eyebrows together. He said, “Herb tea.”
“Yes, she asked me if we had any herb tea. I said I didn’t think so. Then Fritz came over and laughed and said Trixie thought coffee was bad for you. He was, like, laughing and saying Trixie thought a lot of things were bad for you. But he said he would have some anyway. Coffee. So I poured her some hot water and him some coffee. And then Trixie said, Well, could I check and see if Ms. Smiley kept any herb tea in her kitchen. So I came in here to check.”
Schulz leaned ever so slightly toward Arch. “Where was Fritz’s coffee then? Did he take it from you and start drinking it?”
“No,” said Arch slowly. “I put them both, the cups of coffee and hot water, next to each other on the table. Then I came out here to look for the tea.”
“The two cups were just sitting there?”
“Right,” said Arch. “I thought I’d just be gone a minute, and they had started talking again.”
“Did you find any tea?”
“No. I was looking and looking, and Mom was helping me.”
Schulz said, “So your mother was in the kitchen then?”
“Yes,” said Arch, “she was busy making lemonade. We looked for some tea/Finally she gave me some Postum instead. And then Patty Sue ran out of strawberries and I helped her with that for a while. And then I saw my mom emptying ashtrays and picking up dirty dishes … I guess I just forgot about the tea. Anyway, when I came back to the table somebody asked me again for lemonade.”
“So how long was it from the time you gave Fritz, or rather, put down Fritz’s coffee and the woman’s water for tea, and then got back to do lemonade?”
Arch shrugged. “I don’t know. A long time, I guess. Twenty minutes? I can’t remember. Toward the end of a party, Mom says, you don’t have to pay as much attention to the guests. But I did forget the tea.” He looked at me. “Sorry.”
Schulz stared at Arch. “When you went back out, who asked you for lemonade?”
“Vonette, I think. We still didn’t have any, so she said, Well, never mind, she’d have coffee.”
“What was the next thing that happened?” asked Schulz.
“I went to the bathroom.” Again he looked at me apologetically.
“Did you see Trixie again?”
“No, she was gone before I decided to go to the uh, you know. She never even got the Postum.”
“Know what happened to the hot water?”
“What hot water?” Arch wrinkled his nose. “Oh, Trixie’s. No.”
“Then what?”
“Well, I heard Fritz sort of like moaning. So I came back out to the living room.”
“Uh-huh. Now this is important, Arch. Was there anyone else around the drinks table when you came out to the kitchen to look for the tea?”
Arch closed his eyes. “There were lots of people.”
“Anybody’s face come to mind?”
Arch thought. He said, “No.”
“Okay,” said Schulz, “now just a few more questions. Besides Trixie, do you remember your grandfather talking to anyone else?”
“Vonette, I think. And my dad.”
“Was Fritz arguing with anyone, anything like that?”
Arch sighed. “No. Everybody was just talking about Ms. Smiley, saying how nice she was. That it was really weird that she had killed herself because she was such a, you know, funny person. Nobody was arguing.” Arch looked at me from behind his glasses. He lowered his voice. “Except my mom and dad. They were arguing.”
I groaned and walked over to the cabinet where I’d put the cigarettes, took another one, and lit it.
“I know about that,” said Investigator Schulz. “Do you know what your mom and dad were arguing about, Arch?”
Arch looked back at Schulz. “No. My dad had his new girlfriend here. I think that upset my mom. My mom and dad are divorced, you know.”
“I know.”
I inhaled deeply on the cigarette and looked through the window at the aspens shaking in the breeze. I imagined dirty laundry hanging out there to air.
Arch said, “May I go now?”
“Just one more question, Arch. Do you know if anyone was mad at Fritz? Mad enough to try to make him sick, say?”
Arch hesitated. “Well, the only person I know who sort of didn’t like Fritz … well, this sounds kind of dumb. I’m really not sure …” He furrowed his forehead and looked at me.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Just tell Mr. Schulz whatever it is.”
“Well,” Arch said again, “I don’t think Ms. Smiley liked him very much. I don’t think she liked Vonette either.”
I coughed on the cigarette smoke. This was news to me. I said, “Ms. Smiley? Didn’t like Fritz Korman? Or Vonette? How’d she even know them?”
Schulz said, “Mrs. Korman. Miss Bear. Goldy. Please.”
“That’s what I mean,” continued Arch. “I told you it sounded dumb.”
“Do you know what she was mad about?” asked Schulz.
“No.”
“When did she tell you she didn’t like the Kormans?”
Again Arch closed his eyes. “I can’t remember. I’m not even sure she was the one who told me.”
Investigator Schulz stood up. “Arch, thanks a lot. You’ve been helpful. I’ll give you a card with my number. You keep it in your pocket. If you think of something else, call me.”
“My turn?” I asked.
Investigator Schulz looked at me with those penetrating green eyes. An unexpected and unwanted wave of sexual something rolled over me.
Schulz said, “You bet. Just begin by telling me if you saw anything suspicious with the food.”
Before I could begin the long explanation about John Richard’s tomato allergy, one of the uniformed policemen interrupted us.
