Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

insensitive, it was the luck of the draw?” asked Kenneth Brissart, sounding angrier by the second.
    “It seems that way, though I would imagine the killer knew eventually all the cookies would be eaten.”
    “So the intention was to kill everyone on Monday night,” Lillian said, as her skin became paler than it had been a few minutes earlier.
    “I don’t know,” John admitted. “I feel as if I keep saying that, and I’m sorry. We will find out.”
    “I think,” I spoke up, “it must have been random. There’s no way the killer could have known exactly who would eat what cookie and when.”
    “But I thought the police said my mother was the intended victim,” Kenneth asked. “Isn’t that what you told her yesterday?”
    “Yes, we did,” Detective Maroni said, “but several cookies would have to be tainted unless the killer just handed her one.”
    “One theory is that the killer poisoned the cookies as everyone left,” John added.
    “Everyone left at the same time except Bradley and Kendra,” Roberta managed to say through her tears. “Everyone moved about gathering their things. Who would notice anything? Even Bradley walked out for some fresh air. My niece, Marsha, she smokes, and it gets stuffy in here by the end of the evening. I never put an ashtray out for her, but it doesn’t seem to do any good. She just uses my good china.”
    “So the killer thinks everyone is going and poisons the cookies,” said Kenneth in a voice verging on a yell, “believing Mother would be the only one home.”
    His wife shook her head and looked down at her hands.
    “They put a bit of stuff, that jeq...bean, in my Cherry Heering just to be sure.” Mrs. Brissart started to cry again. This time I rushed to her side and wrapped my arms around her shoulders.
    “Mrs. Brissart, do you have a drink on a regular basis?” Detective Maroni hesitated for a moment. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out the way I meant.”
    “It’s all right, Detective Maroni. I understand what you mean. Yes, usually every evening Virginia and I enjoy a drink while we play gin. I always drink the Cherry Heering. Virginia likes sherry. I didn’t have a drink over the weekend. Virginia went to stay with her sister up near Hartford for the weekend and only returned late Sunday night. And Monday, well, after they all left I just went upstairs.”
    “When was the last time you had any?”
    “Friday. No, Thursday evening.”
    “So the poison in the Cherry Heering could have been put in the bottle any time over the weekend or on Monday.”
    “Or anytime,” Kenneth corrected. “You said it might not kill someone right away. Maybe it’s been in there for weeks, months even. Mother,” Kenneth turned to Mrs. Brissart, “have you been feeling ill?”
    “No. Not at all. Nothing.”
    “That puts a bit of a different angle on this whole thing,” Detective Maroni deduced. “Not only are the people who showed up on Monday suspects, but anyone who’s been in the house recently.”
    Mrs. Brissart added, “and there’s one more thing; I never lock my doors.”
    “Mother, I told—”
    “Yes, Kenneth, I know. Detectives, my son has tried to get me to lock up for years, but, well, I’ve lived here all my life and nothing has ever happened. But, oh, dear. Something did happen.”
    “Now, Mother, that’s not what I meant. No one is blaming you.”
    “Of course not, Roberta. You loved Bradley with all your heart, we know that,” Lillian said.
    “Well, I am. I am blaming myself and that...land! If they want it so badly that they killed my grandson, then they can have it.”
    Kenneth and Lillian looked startled. Mrs. Brissart spat out the last words with such venom and a raised voice she probably never used. She looked so tiny and vulnerable sitting in the big overstuffed chair. All three of them, Kenneth, Lillian, and Roberta. What a terrible thing to go through along with the possibility, almost certainty, that one of your own was responsible. And they couldn’t even grieve properly until the police found the killer. How they managed to cope was beyond comprehension.
    “Detective Van der Burg, I’m very worried for my mother-in-law. Obviously, there’s at least one person out there wanting to kill her, probably two. Can we be sure there isn’t anything further in the house that contains poison? What about her safety? Whoever did this, well, might they try again?”
    “Mrs. Brissart, I’ve thought about that myself.”