Bitter Business

it’s been kicked around the plant for a couple of weeks.”
    “Fortunately,” interjected Elliott, offering me a piece of his pecan roll, “the secretary kept the card that arrived with the perfume. It was just this guy Polarski’s business card with ‘best wishes’ scribbled on the back.”
    “No signature?” I asked.
    “Nope,” Blades replied, “and no prints on the card. Not that you’d expect any. Paper is a shitty surface for lifting prints.”
    “But you’re leaving out the best part,” Elliott complained.
    “I was going to let you tell her.”
    “That’s okay—you tell her.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Would one of you just spit it out already,” I demanded. The two of them together were no better than a couple of little kids.
    “We just stopped and paid a call on Mr. Polarski, the chemical rep who supposedly sent the perfume in the first place,” Elliott replied.
    “And?” I prodded.
    “And he denies sending it.”
    “I don’t know what that proves,” I replied, disappointed. “If you had sent someone poisoned perfume, wouldn’t you deny it when the cops came calling?”
    “In the first place, I believe him.”
    “And in the second place?” I asked. I couldn’t believe it—this was like pulling teeth.
    “In the second place Jack Cavanaugh remembers receiving the perfume a few days after the anniversary party that Dagny threw for them on the tenth of February. Not only that, but we checked with his secretary and Jack dictated a thank-you note to this guy Polarski on the sixteenth. Well, according to Polarski, he was in the hospital having hip-replacement surgery from February sixth through the twenty-fourth. According to his wife and his doctor, there is no way he could even go to the bathroom without help during the entire month—not to mention go out, buy, and mail a bottle of perfume. Of course we’ll follow it up, but I’m inclined to believe him.”
    A beeper went off and both men instinctively went for their belts. The page was for the homicide detective. While he excused himself to use the phone Elliott cut me off another piece of pecan roll.
    “I don’t know if I told you,” he said, “but a check of personnel records at Superior Plating turned up diddly. No litigation, no likely cause for a grudge, and no obvious psychopaths. Also, Joe and I both did a thorough background check on both women—Cecilia and Dagny. Dagny checks out completely. As far as I can make out, she was exactly what everyone thought she was. Did you know that she was pulling down two hundred and ten thousand dollars a year in salary? Joe got her financials. She was a sharp investor, too.”
    “I got a letter from the lawyer Cecilia Dobson’s family hired,” I said, mentally kicking myself. I had wanted to mention the possibility of a lawsuit to Jack Cavanaugh, but in the face of his distress, I’d forgotten. “They’re threatening a wrongful-death action.”
    “What did you expect?”
    “I guess I just didn’t expect it quite so soon.”
    “There’s nothing like the promise of big bucks to spur people to action.”
    Detective Blades came back to the table.
    “Guess what, boys and girls?” he inquired genially. I couldn’t help but notice that there was a spring in his step and mischief in his eyes.
    “What?” Elliott and I chorused.
    “They found the box. Cavanaugh’s secretary put it away in a closet in case she ever had to mail something small. According to the uniform, she hasn’t touched it since.”
    “Now what?” I demanded excitedly.
    “Now the uniforms wait for the guys from the crime lab to get off their coffee breaks and get their asses over to Superior Plating to dust it for prints,” Blades reported, calmly helping himself to a piece of toast and starting to butter it. “Then they’ll bag it and tag it and dump it on my desk. Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘the wheels of justice grind slow, but...’ hey, Elliott, how does the rest of it go?”
    “Stop giving the lady a hard time,” said Elliott with mock severity, “especially since she’s paying for your damned breakfast.”
    “Before we get too excited over this whole perfume thing,” I said, cutting into the little Laurel and Hardy routine they were getting going, “would someone kindly tell me how we can even be sure that the poison in the perfume is the same poison that ended up killing the two women? I was talking this over with someone I know who is a chemist.” I felt Elliott