Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

covering my lawn in a blanket of russet, but to be honest, I liked the way it looked. When I was ten, I went to all the neighbors’ yards and took as many leaves as my wagon would carry, and brought them back to my yard. My dad was not amused and when a fierce wind picked up during the night and scattered the leaves all over our neatly raked yard his anger sizzled. I suggested returning all the leaves to their rightful owners but not wanting to instigate World War III with our neighbors, dad finally shrugged and joined me outside for a morning of raking.
    “What are you thinking about?” John asked as he handed me a cup of tea.
    “Just about how much I love the fall.”
    “Autumn and winter. What kind of person have I gotten myself mixed up with?”
    “One who does not like hot, sticky summers like the one we just finished. I don’t like feeling like a wet towel in a dryer with the setting on hot!”
    John laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s about the only thing I dislike about this state.”
    “You’re not working this coming weekend, are you?” I asked, while putting an English muffin into the toaster. John shook his head. “I thought we could take our bikes and find a nice little country inn and maybe a field for a picnic.”
    “Sounds good to me. A country inn, cool autumn night, hmmm, very romantic,” he said while nuzzling my neck.
    “Do you want some toast?”
    “No. I’ll just grab something on the way to work. I better get going.”
    A “something on the way to work” usually meant a donut and another cup of coffee. When he did take the time to eat a decent breakfast it usually consisted of a bowl of shredded wheat and a glass of milk. But John was a morning person, just like me, and he started moving the minute he rolled out of bed. Sitting still long enough for breakfast put a strain on him.
    John kissed me good-bye—one of those kisses that had it not been a workday would lead to other things—and left.
    I smiled. Definitely the best way to start a morning.

    *****

    “It’s a big decision. I think we need to do more research and give it some serious thought,” Sam said an hour later as we sat in my office. We had been toying with the idea of expanding our agency. Rather than sending our employees out on temp jobs, we would take over the personnel departments for firms that didn’t want to bother with this aspect of business. All employees would work for Always Prepared with our agency doing taxes, benefits, and hiring.
    “You know,” Sam said, “if we do expand we’ll have to hire more staff ourselves. And if we hire more people, we’re going to need a bigger place.”
    I leaned back in my chair and pushed my hands through my short brown hair. “Yeah, I thought about that. I’d hate to leave this place.” Our agency was located in an old house that felt a lot more like home than a sterile building would.
    “Expansion would be good for Millie. If we hired more admin staff, the logical progression of things would be to promote Millie to admin manager.”
    “You’re right. She’d be great and I’d love to give her more responsibility.” I turned my head as Millie entered Sam’s office.
    Millie’s ensemble remained subdued, but I did notice the addition of another pumpkin on the doorstep along with a scarecrow sitting on the wooden chair out front. “Sorry for the interruption but I have Chantal Bradbury on the phone for you, Alex.”
    “You can put Chantal through to me in here.” Sam twisted the phone around and handed it to me. “Good morning, Chantal. I’m on my way shortly.”
    “Alex!” Chantal hesitated for a moment and then I heard her voice again. “Alex, you have to come now! Please.”
    “Chantal, what on earth is the matter? Where are you?”
    “I’m at the Brissart house. Something terrible happened. They found Bradley this morning. Dead.”
    “Dead? Good God! You mean over at Mrs. Brissart’s house?”
    Samantha stopped working and came over to stand by me.
    “Mrs. Platz, found him this morning when she woke up. He spent the night but I don’t know the details yet. The police are here asking a lot of questions. Poor Mrs. Platz is hysterical, and from what I can gather, I don’t think he just died in his sleep or anything. They want to talk to me about my position here, and well, I didn’t know if I should mention the agency or what. I don’t want to bring you any unwanted problems or publicity. Oh, Alex, why would anyone want to