Free Killer Crab Cakes by Livia J. Washburn Page A

realization hit her.
    Somebody was going to have to tell the guests that Ed McKenna had been murdered . . . and that the killer might still be under this very roof.
    She called out to them as they started through the hall toward the stairs. “Excuse me. . . . I need to have a word with you folks.”
    Jessica Blaine and Raquel Forrest were each carrying several plastic bags. Loot from their day of shopping, Phyllis thought. They wore impatient looks as they turned toward her.
    “What is it, Mrs. Newsom?” Leo asked. “We’re all a little tired. Like to freshen up a bit before dinner.”
    “There’s some news about Mr. McKenna that I need to share with you.”
    “What happened?” Leo smiled. “He didn’t turn out to be alive after all, did he? A little resurrection?”
    “Leo, stop it!” Jessica scolded. “I swear, you try to make a joke out of everything.”
    “A man died,” Sheldon said. “It’s not funny.”
    It was even more “not funny” than they knew. Phyllis said, “The chief of police came by here a while ago. The autopsy on Mr. McKenna wasn’t complete at the time, but the medical examiner was already sure that he didn’t die from a heart attack or a stroke.”
    “What else is there that’d kill a guy so sudden like that?” Leo asked, frowning now instead of grinning. “Some sort of embolism or aneurysm or something like that?”
    “No,” Phyllis said. “He was poisoned.”
    Leo’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand. How’d he get into poison around here?”
    “Wait a minute,” Sheldon said. “You don’t mean he was . . .” His voice trailed off, as if he were unable to bring himself to say it.
    Phyllis nodded. “That’s right. The police are treating it as a homicide investigation now. Chief Clifton believes that Mr. McKenna was murdered.”
    She watched them all closely as she said it, looking for any sign that one of them already knew about it.
    But instead, all four looked profoundly shocked, as if they couldn’t believe what they had just heard.
    Of course, one of them could have been acting. Phyllis had run into murderers before who had the ability to behave as if nothing had ever happened. It was a useful talent to have if you planned to go around killing people.
    Still, she had a hard time believing it of any of these four, who seemed as normal and innocent as they could be. After that initial moment of surprised silence, they began bubbling over with questions. Phyllis let them yammer on for a few seconds, then raised her hands to call for silence, like she would have in her classroom.
    “If you’ll go in the parlor and sit down, I’ll tell you what Chief Clifton told me.”
    Still carrying the packages from their shopping trip, the couples went into the parlor and sat down, the Blaines on the sofa, the Forrests in a couple of armchairs. Phyllis stood in the middle of the room, where she would be able to see all four of them.
    As concisely as she could, she covered the news that Chief Clifton had brought. The couples listened in silence, although Phyllis could tell that Leo, especially, was almost bursting with the desire to ask questions. He let her finish, though, before he said, “Is it possible that the crab cakes just . . . you know . . . went bad?”
    Beside him, Jessica nodded. “That’s right. I’ve heard of people dying from food poisoning before.”
    “If someone put the poison in the crab cakes,” Sheldon said, “you could call that food poisoning, couldn’t you?”
    Raquel reached over and punched him lightly on the upper arm. “You’re not funny,” she said.
    “I’m not trying to be funny,” Sheldon insisted, and as a matter of fact, he did look serious. Deadly serious, Phyllis thought. “I’m just trying to point out that the terminology could apply to either case.”
    “Terminology, schmerminology,” Leo said, and like “jailbird,” Phyllis thought it had been a long time since she had heard anybody use an expression like that.