Free Spike by Kathy Reichs, Brendan Reichs Page B

The wolfdog began snuffling the carpet.
Som
ething here. This wa
y.
    Movement in the corner of my eye. Whitney approached in a rush, eyes tight with anger. “
Tory!
” she seethed, trying—and failing—to keep her voice down. Which was pointless anyway, since everyone with a pulse was watching Cooper search the room.
    Whitney was too horrified to notice. “This is a
weddi
ng
!” she hissed. “In one of Charleston’s finest buildings!
Y
ou’re not allowed to
have a dog in here!
” Then she spun to glare at Kit. “I should
never
have allowed Coop here in the first place!”
    Kit’s shoulders rose and fell helplessly. “No one’s gonna be home all day, and everyone else who lives on Morris is here, too. Who was supposed to feed—?”
    “Where’s that animal going?” Corcoran barked. Coop had moved beyond the tables and was pawing at a door in the corner.
    “That’s the cloakroom,” Tempe answered.
    I looked to Ben, who nodded. He’d been in there earlier, retrieving Whitney’s clutch. Before anyone else reacted, Ben jogged over and opened the door for Cooper. Boyfriend and wolfdog disappeared inside.
    “This is getting absurd!” Mrs. Taylor radiated disapproval as she strode over to stand before her son. “Honestly!” she sniffed, smoothing Jason’s tuxedo jacket with her hands, which he endured uncomfortably. “I’ve never witnessed such a thing in all my years in the League.”
    Whitney blanched. Began to tremble.
    “A travesty!” shouted Iglehart.
    “A lawsuit!” growled Biggs.
    Corcoran shuffled his feet uneasily, seemed about to issue an order when we heard a series of machine-gun barks from inside the cloakroom. Ben reemerged carrying a pink leather handbag. Coop was snarling at it as they strode back across the ballroom.
    Scent h
ere. Strong
.
    As Ben eased through the mob, all eyes were on the bag in his hands.
    “What in heavens?” Agnes Taylor flushed scarlet. “That boy has my purse!”
    But something in her tone rang false.
    Oh my
God
. Hi stared at Jason’s mother, wide-eyed. He’d noticed, too.
    Shelton shifted, removing his glasses and squinting in disbelief.
I don’t ge
t it.
    The cloakroom
is right beside the
men’s room
, Ben sent, eyeing me significantly.
It has a seco
nd door to the hallw
ay.
Biggs had time t
o stash something in
there before Shelto
n caught up to him.
    A chill ran down my spine. I glanced left. Caught Mrs. Taylor staring at me.
    I took a step back, startled.
    For the briefest moment, I’d spotted a flash of . . . hatred.
    Which made zero sense. Why would Jason’s mom hate me? We barely knew each other, had only met on the few occasions I’d been to Jason’s house, or when she would substitute teach at Bolton Prep.
    I steeled my nerve. Looked again.
    Nothing. Agnes Taylor was now glaring at Ben, her face a picture of affronted dignity.
    But I knew what I saw. What I felt.
    “We need to see inside the bag,” I said forcefully.
    “Tory!” Jason dropped Madison’s hand, wrapped an arm around hismother’s shoulders as he gaped at me across the dance floor. “Surely you’re not suggesting—”
    “No, no! Of course not.”
Absolu
tely I am
. “It’s simply the quickest way to dismiss an obvious mistake and move on.”
    Then I mind-shouted,
Open the purse
, Ben!
    With pleasure
. He unsnapped the clasp with his thumb.
    Jason lurched forward, but not before Ben reached inside and removed a brown medicinal bottle. “Ipecac syrup,” he read aloud, turning it over in his fingers. “It’s also labeled ‘Bolton Prep Nurses Office.’” Ben smiled coldly at Mrs. Taylor. “This expired in 2009, FYI.”
    Dead silence.
    Jason had frozen mid-stride, paralyzed by the sight of the bottle.
    All eyes swung to Agnes Taylor.
    “What?” she blurted testily, fussing with her dress. Her eyes darted to Biggs for a millisecond, then jerked away as if burned. “I found that in the school pharmacy, and was going to dispose of it. I must’ve