Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

know of Roberta’s dislike of the cookies, and we’re back to her as the intended victim.” John shrugged as he sat across from me in my office.
    “Steven had nothing against Bradley,” John, who was Mr. Chatterbox this morning, continued. “Trish liked him, Larry and April thought he was a dear boy, and other than Bradley trying to steal one of Larry’s inventions, I can’t find a reason for them to kill him.” John took the lid off his coffee and reached for my tea.
    “Thanks.” I took the hot tea from his hands. “And thanks for bringing scones. Who else did you talk with?” I took a bite of a scone and wiped a bit of the frosting from my chin.
    “June. And she’s furious with Roberta for May’s plight and she blames her older sister for the fact that J.T. is gone. June said something to the effect of slapping the stuffing out of Roberta the next time she sees her, which, she hopes, will be never. I told her the feeling was mutual. She doesn’t seem to care about Bradley one way or the other. Stuart wasn’t there on the night in question. Probably out gambling. I think the guy’s got a real problem. He’s definitely on edge.”
    I told John about what I witnessed at the grocery store last night.
    “What about the footprints outside the window? Did anything ever come of them?” I asked.
    “Nothing. I sure wish whoever is the guilty party would just spill the beans like May did.”
    I chuckled at John’s pun and reached for an apple, having had the forethought to bring along something nutritious knowing John’s eating habits.
    “Where is everybody?”
    “It is awfully early, John.” I tried in vain to stifle a yawn.
    John finished his second pastry and kissed me good-bye just as Millie arrived.
    With Halloween tomorrow, our offices had been completely transformed. Every available window in the front had been festooned with ghosts and witches and Millie had draped fake webs on almost everything. Even the front door managed to squeak when I opened it; an addition I hoped would be put to rights after Halloween. Sam and I had to admit that it looked nice. Millie even added a bowl of assorted candies to the table in the waiting area and it had already been replenished once though whether that was because of the applicants or Sam, I wasn’t sure.
    After an hour and a half of very fruitless labor, I told Millie I was going to Mills Pond to visit my grandfather. Sam still hadn’t showed up and I suspected my sister was still enmeshed in feathers.
    Mills Pond was housed in an old mansion on a beautifully landscaped knoll not far from the center of town. Set back from the main thoroughfare, it had a country feel without being too far away for the residents to receive visitors on a regular basis. After my grandmother died, grandpa became increasingly lonely and decided to live out his life in this bucolic setting.
    I pulled into a space happy to see the home awash in festive decorations. I made my way up a path lavishly lined with pumpkins and lanterns and entered through the giant wooden door. The grand foyer was also decorated but with what seemed like homemade decorations contributed by the arts and crafts group.
    “Alex Harris, isn’t it?” asked a calm looking woman of about forty-five, well dressed in a tailored suit.
    “Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”
    “Your mother said you’d probably be coming by and I recognized you from the Fourth of July picnic. I’m Mrs. Potter. Carolyn,” she said extending her hand.
    “Oh, yes. Nice to see you again. Is this a good time for a visit?”
    “It’s actually a very good time.” Carolyn gave me a conspiratorial wink.
    “Really?”
    Carolyn Potter gently took hold of my arm and steered me in the direction of a new wing where my grandfather had his small apartment. “Do you remember Lucy McDermott, dear?”
    “The woman my grandfather is…dating?” I asked with a grimace remembering my grandfather’s amorous advance to Lucy last Christmas involving a bow tie and little else. “Is she all right?” I asked, tentatively thinking that Lucy must be nearing ninety years old.
    “Oh, yes, she’s fine. Not to worry.” Carolyn patted my arm. “Your grandfather and Lucy had a bit of a tiff last night at our weekly movie screening. Lucy was doing a bit of unabashed flirting with Hector Moralis. He’s new, and your grandfather became quite agitated.”
    I winced. “He didn’t…?”
    “No, no. Nothing like the last time.” Carolyn