Arsenic and Old Cake by Jacklyn Brady Page A

again, this time out of frustration.
    As Monroe carried one of the chairs out of the parlor, Cleveland stood to confront Pastor Rod. “What’d you do that for? It’s a bad idea to encourage him, if you ask me.”
    Pastor Rod lifted one shoulder to show his lack of concern. “It’ll be fine, Cleveland. You’ll see. Monroe just wants to help.”
    “Yeah? Well, Hyacinth don’t need his brand of help. Neither does Primrose. None of us does, in fact. If you ask me, they ought to send that troublemaker on his way tonight.”
    “I’m not sending him away,” Primrose cried, slamming down the glass she was holding. It hit the table and shattered, and a shocked silence fell over the room. Primrose’s thin face was tight and angry. Her eyes blazed. “Why do you have to be so mean and hateful?” she shouted at Cleveland. “Just let it go. It’s water under the bridge.”
    The pastor made soothing noises, but nobody was paying attention to him. Gabriel crossed the room to stand by me and mouthed, “These people are crazy.” He’d get no argument from me.
    Cleveland shook a finger in Primrose’s face. “You’re too naïve. Always have been.”
    “Yeah? Well, it’s not as if you’ve never done anything wrong,” she snarled. “How would you like it if I held all of your mistakes over your head?”
    I’d seen Gabriel break up a couple of fights at the Dizzy Duke, but he made no move to come between these two old people, both of whom looked ready to lunge at the other without warning. I took his inaction as a sign that he was as fascinated and curious about their relationships as I was.
    The pastor made a more determined effort to soothe the troubled waters. His face set in steely determination, he pushed between Cleveland and Primrose. His voice was gentle but firm. “Now, now. You two have been friends a long time. Don’t let this come between you.”
    Cleveland took a step back and snorted. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”
    Primrose wrapped her thin arms around herself and sniffed loudly. “Only because you’re so completely unreasonable.”
    They were both still upset, but I thought they looked a little less ready to escalate the hostilities, so I said, “I thought Monroe was a friend of yours. He seems like a nice enough guy.”
    “How would you know?” Cleveland snarled. “You met him five minutes ago.”
    Primrose glared at him. “You’d better not let Hyacinth hear you talking to our guests like that.” She took a deep breath and brushed a curl from her forehead. “And in answer to your question, Monroe is a perfectly nice man.”
    I thought she was going to say more, but Hyacinth flew into the parlor at a speed I wouldn’t have expected from a woman her size. “What’s going on in here?”
    “Everything’s fine,” Gabriel assured her, but he spoke too soon.
    Primrose pointed one shaky finger at Cleveland. “Ask him.”
    Cleveland snorted again. “I didn’t say anything the others aren’t thinking.”
    “He’s going on about Monroe again,” Primrose snapped. She sounded more like a petulant three-year-old than a woman in her seventies. “I’d like to know when he became a saint.”
    Hyacinth’s eyes grew wide and round, and she folded her thick arms across her chest. “Did the two of you forget that we have guests?”
    “It’s okay,” Gabriel said. “No harm, no foul.”
    But Cleveland shoved his finger in Primrose’s face. “I’m no saint. Never claimed to be. But at least I ain’t a snake.”
    “That’s enough !” Hyacinth’s warning was so harsh and loud, Primrose flinched and Cleveland backed up a step. Hyacinth took a deep breath and gave a grimace that was probably intended to be a smile but missed its mark by a mile. “We. Have. Guests . Whatever the two of you are going on about can wait.” She turned to Gabriel and me and sweetened her tone. “I apologize for my sister and my friend. You two run along now and enjoy yourselves. Put our