Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

know of. But he could have gone into town and made his copies and then put the papers back where he found them.”
    “Chantal, write down directions and then I think I’ll stop by the hospital and see if Mr. Kaminski has that key.”
    I gave Chantal a pad of paper and watched while she wrote down the directions and explained everything to John. It seemed pretty straightforward except for a narrow road obscured by thick overgrowth.
    Armed with the crudely drawn map, John and I went into the reception area where Millie sat behind her desk. John walked over and gave her clown nose a tweak. “Where’s Sam?”
    “The elementary school. The kids are having Halloween parties and Sam baked pumpkin cupcakes. She should be back later. Listen, John, tonight’s Halloween. Do you think you might be able to get away and help me give out candy?”
    “If I can get away, I may pass out candy at my place for a bit. I thought that my house is too big and scary and they probably wouldn’t come, but then that’s what Halloween’s all about. There aren’t too many kids in the area, little ones, anyway, and then I’ll try to come by. I figure if any kids show up it will probably be early. So maybe I can come by about seven-thirty.”
    I could hardly wait for him to move in and then there wouldn’t be any of “your place and my place.” I kissed him good-bye and hoped I would see him later.
    It was almost lunch. The three of us sat in my office and ate leftover stew that Millie had made the previous evening.
    About one-thirty, a deliveryman arrived with an order of office supplies, and Millie went out to help him.
    “Well, I guess I should be going and let you get back to work.” Chantal put on her coat. “Let me know if John finds something. If he does, and it’s all in French, I can translate.”
    “Thanks, Chantal, for all your help.”
    She left the office and a few minutes later came back.
    “Did you forget something?”
    “No. Well, yes, I did. I should have told John. Maybe if he calls you can let him know.”
    “What is it?”
    “Bradley stayed over with his grandmother every Monday evening and sometimes on other nights, too. Especially if Kendra had an acting class or something.”
    “And you’re wondering if he could have left the originals in his room at Mrs. Brissart’s?”
    “Exactly. We have a copier so he could have made copies and then put the papers back up in his room. It makes perfect sense if the papers are indeed old and fragile. He probably wouldn’t have wanted to handle them very much.”
    I was already standing and reaching for my purse. “Do you still have the key?”
    “To Mrs. Brissart’s? Yeah. I had two, can’t remember why. I gave Detective Maroni one last night. But Alex, we can’t just go and look in Bradley’s room, can we?” Chantal asked with a smile spreading across her face.
    “Why not? Maybe by the time John gets back from Farmington, we’ll have the papers in-hand. Besides, I’ve been dying to check in the computer to see if there were any items of interest about the history. I wanted to ask you about it yesterday, but well, with the police around, and Mr. Kaminski in such a bad state, I didn’t think it the right time. And,” I added as I pulled on my coat, “I don’t think Mrs. Brissart would mind, not if it helps in finding her grandson’s killer. And we can call her when we get to the house and ask if it would make you feel better.”
    “Okay. I must admit I am rather curious. And it makes sense if I look because I can translate.”
    I liked her logic. I knew I hired her for a good reason.
    By the time we reached the old house, the sky had become gray with a layer of clouds. Rain wasn’t in the forecast, but then again weathermen were known to be wrong. I always thought that if they just looked out the window before they announced the weather each morning, they could save a fortune on machines and other weather-finding equipment.
    There were no other cars in the driveway and we parked my black Honda close to the front door. Chantal took the key from her purse. The lovely old house seemed foreboding with no one present. Maybe it was just the weather and being Halloween, but I had the creeps.
    “First, let’s call Mrs. Brissart. I’ll feel better.” I followed Chantal down the hall to the study. The red eye of the answering machine blinked and Chantal pressed the button for the message.
    “It’s Roberta,” Mrs. Brissart’s soft voice filled the