Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

answer and each correct answer gets a point. Every time you miss a question, you lose one point. The first team to reach twenty points wins.”
    “Wins what?” Michael asked.
    “Nothing. Just wins . Isn’t that enough?” Mom asked in a totally bewildered tone.
    “You all know what your mother’s like,” Dad said.
    Mom did love to win.
    We split into teams—the men against the women. This ought to be interesting.
    We three women sat on the sofa with the three gentlemen seated on the other side of the coffee table; Dad and Michael on chairs and John sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out. Sam sat very close to the samosas and I kept a good eye on my sister along with the dwindling number of little meat pastries on the plate. I reached past her and grabbed a couple.
    The room was bathed in soft lights from the various lamps scattered about and the glow of the fireplace right behind the men. Several lovely well-framed watercolors from various trips my parents had taken hung on the walls along with an assortment of ink drawings. I loved this room. I used to like to get comfortable on the sofa with a good book and a cup of tea while snow fell outside. I still do that, but now I do it at my place.
    My mom decided that being women, we would go first. Dad shook his head, John laughed, and Michael asked what that had to do with anything. Sam told him to hush and my father read the first question to us.
    The game proceeded for another hour and then my mom served coffee and the chocolate cake. It must be later .
    I put a forkful of cake in my mouth and looked at my father. “Dad, you ’andled all da insurance or Mrs. Brissart over the years, white?”
    “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Alex. I didn’t get a word you said.”
    I swallowed, almost choking on the large piece of cake I shoved into my mouth. “Sorry. I asked about Mrs. Brissart. You handled all her insurance needs.”
    “Yes, I did. Still do.”
    “How about her sisters?”
    “I tried to get their business, but they had their own agent. Though my company did have a life insurance policy on Mrs. Doliveck’s husband.”
    “Did it pay a lot?”
    “Alex, you know I can’t tell you that. It’s none of your business.”
    “But he’s dead! Who’s going to know?” I said, looking at the others for agreement.
    “What’s this all about?” John asked, not trying to hide his irritation.
    “Just wondering how much money they have.”
    “I’m afraid, Harry, your daughter is doing a bit of investigating again. I’ve warned her not to get involved, but my words fall on deaf ears.” John cut his eyes in my direction and I chose that exact moment to take a sip of tea.
    “Now, Alex, you stop that!” Mom pleaded. “Let the police handle it. You remember what happened last time.”
    “How could I forget?” I winced as I touched my shoulder remembering my confrontation with a murderer the year before.
    “Alex’s working over at the Brissart home while Chantal is away,” Sam offered.
    “I must get over to see her,” Mom said. “That poor woman, having her grandson killed. Are there any suspects, John?”
    “A lot. We just have to sort through everything,” John said vaguely. I knew he wanted everyone to get off the subject of murder. I felt sorry for him being put on the spot and trying to be polite all at the same time.
    “Well, I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of this,” Dad offered, in a tone meant to diffuse anyone else from asking more questions.
    My mom, married to the man for too many years to count, took no notice of his tone. “Do they know what killed him?” she asked absently as she cut herself another thin slice of cake. Her second, if anyone felt like counting. As long as she cut thin slices, they still counted as part of the original piece. Mom invents her own logic.
    John looked annoyed at the murder theme becoming the main topic of the evening. “Poison. Exactly what kind we don’t know yet. And I’m sorry but I really can’t talk about this now.”
    “Well, let’s get back to the game. We were winning, if I remember correctly.” Dad winked, placing a hand on John’s shoulder.
    Finally the score stood at nineteen for the women and eighteen for the men. If we got our next question correct we would be the winners.
    Michael picked out the card that would either make us the victors or give the men another chance. He held the card up and kissed it for good luck—his, not ours.
    “Okay. What country