01 - Playing with Poison Read Free

needed to save his lady. And considering my mood that morning, Alexis appeared doomed. She sat down on the one hard wooden chair Maynard Snipe had seen fit to provide and sighed dramatically, her bosom trembling even more than her delicate hands.
    ***
    I, too, sighed dramatically. My bosom, however, remained pretty much inert. Despite spending a restless night worrying about Stanley’s murder, I had stuck to my normal routine. I was up at five, showered, and at my desk by six. But here it was close to eleven, and I had written next to nothing. I closed my laptop and stared out the window. From her perch on the windowsill, Snowflake stared with me.
    Well, no wonder we were distracted. Two vans from the local TV station were parked in front of The Stone Fountain and were disgorging people and equipment at an alarming rate. The news crew spent some time filming who knows what on Sullivan Street, but everyone appeared even more agitated when Gina Stone arrived to open the bar for Sunday brunch.
    She tried to keep Channel 15 from following her inside, but she didn’t have much luck. Everyone and everything, other than the vans themselves, disappeared into The Stone Fountain.
    “What was that all about?” I asked Snowflake.
    The cat didn’t answer, but why was I sure it had something to do with Stanley?
    A knock on my door pulled me out of my reverie. “Maybe it’s Prince Char—”
    I blinked at the cat. “Never mind.”
    Captain Rye was leaning on the doorframe when I got there. He presented quite a commanding figure, but I stood my ground and blocked his entry.
    “It’s Sunday morning,” I offered as a greeting.
    “I’m aware of that, Ms. Hewitt, and I’m sorry to disturb you. May I come in?”
    “When can I have my couch back?”
    “We have a problem. May I come in?”
    “Do I have a choice?” I waved him inside and toward an easy chair, but my desk caught his attention, and he wandered over in that direction instead.
    It was irritating, but I really couldn’t blame the guy. My desk occupies the best spot in the condo, where the row of south-facing windows intersects with the row of west-facing windows. From there I can watch all the activity at the corner of Sullivan and Vine Streets, and also have a view of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance.
    Rye put his hands on his hips and stared down at Sullivan Street, affording me ample opportunity to notice the holster and gun under his suit jacket. I whimpered only slightly and joined him at the window.
    Two women pushing baby carriages were crossing Vine Street. And Fiona Greeley, the woman who manages the artists’ co-op next to The Stone Fountain, was on a ladder installing a banner over her doorway. An old man shod in dark socks and sandals stopped to watch her progress, and she enlisted him to hold one end of the banner while she tacked up the other.
    “You like it here?” Rye asked.
    “I do. Clarence is just the right size city—not too big, not too small.” I watched the kindly old man help Fiona off the ladder. “And I love living downtown.”
    I pointed to Fiona. “I bought all the paintings of sunflowers and daisies you see in here at that gallery.” I moved my hand toward The Stone Fountain. “And I love that bar. It’s in such a great building, don’t you think?”
    The Stone Fountain occupied the ground floor of an old brick warehouse similar to the building I lived in. Instead of condos, that one had been converted into retail and office space.
    “Sweetzer was spotted there last night,” Rye told me.
    “I thought so.” I pointed out the Channel 15 vans, and Captain Rye groaned. “Are they a problem?” I asked.
    “You do know about Jimmy Beak and his crew?”
    I shook my head. “I don’t watch much TV.”
    “Well then, you’re smart. Beak’s a menace. He and his supposed news team don’t think they’re doing their job unless they’re getting in my way and screwing up whatever investigation I have going.”
    He cocked an