Free Tea-Totally Dead by Jaqueline Girdner Page B

comin’,” she said, her voice lilting in a mild Southern accent I had never heard on her lips before.
    I looked over my shoulder. Harmony was smiling widely, her teeth gleaming. Who did that grin remind me of? Vesta, that’s who, I realized with a shiver. Harmony had Vesta’s shark smile down pat. Damn, that was spooky. I grabbed Wayne’s hand and pulled him through the doorway, out into the sunlight.
    “God, Wayne,” I whispered as he shut the door behind us. “Do you think she’s really crazy?”
    He shrugged without saying anything and walked toward the car. I suppressed a groan, struggling between sympathy and impatience. After spending the entire morning in silence, I was ready to talk, trauma or no trauma.
    “Come on, sweetie,” I prodded, trailing after him. “We gotta—”
    “Hi there!” a voice boomed from behind us.
    I jumped straight up into the air and turned as I came back down. It seemed to me that I flew high enough for an Olympic pole-vaulting medal, but I might have just imagined it. I didn’t have a pole anyway.
    “Name’s Paul Paulson,” announced the man with the booming voice, a chubby blond whose tan face was stretched into an all-American smile. “I’m Vesta’s next door neighbor. I’ve been wondering what all the fuss was about.” He tilted his head and stared at us enticingly out of boyish blue eyes.
    Wayne turned and subjected Paul Paulson to a 100-watt Skeritt glare.
    “Mrs. Caruso’s passed away,” I said quickly. “We have to get going now.”
    “Oh, hey. That’s too bad,” Paulson said. He wrinkled his forehead in a frown for a moment, then smiled again. “Hey, you’re her son, aren’t you? Are you going to sell the condo?”
    Wayne had the right idea. I added my glare to his. But it didn’t stop Paulson.
    “Well, I always say, when the universe hands you lemons, make lemonade,” he went on. “So when you sell that condo, you might want to think about investing in land development.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and pressed it into my hand. “You know, predeveloped land is a dynamic growth opportunity for creating wealth—”
    “We really have to get going,” I said and took Wayne’s hand in mine. In tandem, we turned and strode toward the Jaguar.
    “It’s been really nice talking with you folks,” Paulson called out amiably from behind us.
    When we got to the car, I asked Wayne if he was up to driving. He grunted and got in the driver’s seat. I took this combination of sound and action as an affirmative.
    Paulson waved heartily as the Jaguar pulled away from the curb. I didn’t wave back. Nor did Wayne.
    I wanted to be sensitive to Wayne’s feelings. So I held out for three whole minutes, until we were on Highway 101 heading south, before asking him if he wanted to talk.
    He grunted again and pulled into the fast lane. I took this grunt as a negative since he didn’t say anything immediately afterwards.
    I settled back in my seat and tried to think of something pleasant as we whizzed down the road. Uninvited, Vesta’s lifeless body swam into my mind’s eye, twisted and sprawling, her black hair pooling on the golden rug. For a moment, I could even smell the vomit. My stomach fluttered, then clenched. What a horrible way to die. Nobody should have to die like that. My eyes burned with the effort to hold back tears.
    “Harmony,” Wayne said abruptly.
    “What?” I yelped, caught off guard. The impending tide of tears receded.
    “Harmony made the tea,” he muttered impatiently. He pulled into the next lane to pass a Volkswagen that was creeping down the highway at the speed limit.
    “And you think Harmony killed your mother?” I prompted.
    He shrugged. “Harmony or someone else. Someone poisoned Mom.” His voice shimmied on the final word.
    I pretended I didn’t notice the shimmy. “Are you sure she was murdered?” I asked carefully. I wasn’t sure. And I would have bet the police weren’t sure either.
    He nodded