Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

big hamburger at the same time was just too much for me to handle. One of them had to go and it wasn’t going to be the burger.
    I arrived back at the house. John’s car was parked outside along with one I didn’t recognize. As I walked along the drive, two men stood at the left far corner of the wooden porch in deep conversation—Stuart and Steven. I climbed the green steps but neither man seemed to notice my approach. I walked as softly and slowly as I could, hoping to catch something of what they discussed.
    “Okay, Stuart, but this is the last time. I mean it.”
    Last time for what? I wanted to sit on one of the chairs and take notes, but surely they would notice me then. I couldn’t linger any longer without arousing suspicion, though both men seemed to be totally oblivious to my presence, so reluctantly I entered the house.
    “Come in, Miss Harris,” one of the twins said, though I couldn’t remember which one she was.
    I entered the living room, scanning the faces for Marsha, who was nowhere in sight. “I was looking for either Marsha or Mrs. Platz,” I began, hoping that in her inebriated state, Marsha might let something slip about a blender and some beans.
    “My daughter had to leave and Virginia is in the kitchen, no doubt. I think my sister is upstairs with Ken and Lily. And your detective is talking with Larry. Oh, where are my manners,” June said, taking a moment to fluff up her hair. “I’m June Doliveck and this is my sister, May Estenfelder. But please, just call us June and May.”
    What did she mean by your detective , I thought while taking off my sweater.
    “Do you care for something to drink, Miss Harris?”
    I could use a cup of tea. The stand at the beach only sold soft drinks, which always left a funny taste in my mouth. I thought a second if I should risk a drink with these potential poisoners and a maybe-murderess in the kitchen and decided the hell with it, I wanted, no needed a cup of tea.
    May Estenfelder picked up a small bell on the mantle and rang for Mrs. Platz. I never saw anyone ring for someone other than in the movies and I did the mental eye roll thing at the pretentiousness. The tea requested, the three of us settled down for a nice chat.
    “We understand you and Detective Van der Burg are dating,” June said.
    “Yes, we are,” I answered. I glanced from sister to sister. Both June and May looked like Mrs. Brissart, though the twins were a bit taller and heavier in the hips than their older sister. They had blue eyes but without the twinkle and spark in Mrs. Brissart’s. Both women had gray hair on which they added some sort of rinse making their heads give off a lavender hue, especially in certain light. Since they both wore purple dresses, May’s with black buttons down the front, I wondered if they tinted their hair to match the color of their clothes. God help us if they took a liking to lime green fabric or day-glow orange. An image of Millie dressed like a member of the squash family flashed in my head and I realized on second thought maybe purple hair wasn’t so bad.
    “We were wondering, Miss Harris, that is, my sister, June and I, well, no sense in beating around the bush. We thought you might be able to have a word with your young man and convince him that his efforts are wasted concentrating on our family.”
    “Why is that, Mrs. Estenfelder?”
    “May, please. Because no one from our family would be capable of such a hideous crime. I’m not sure if you understand our standing in the community. Our family ties go way back in Connecticut and well, this rather unpleasant interrogation is a bit of an embarrassment. Why just today…” She turned to look at her sister. “I forgot to tell you, June, but my neighbor, Mr. Saksa, came out and asked me all sorts of things about which member of the family did I think killed poor Bradley. Well, I can tell you what effect it had on me! Right out in front of my own home! I hope no one else saw him badger me with his nonsense. So you see, Miss Harris,” she said turning her attention back to me, “the detective must stop this harassment at once.”
    “To whom do you think he should direct his investigation?” I asked.
    “Well, we’re not sure, but certainly no one from this family. Why, Roberta leaves her door open and she is far too friendly with common folk, you know. She lets the milkman come right into the kitchen with his butter and cottage cheese! And the paperboy, he stood right there,