back down the peristyle and past the kitchen and dining room, and my arrival in the main reception room just in time to see Clementine Ripley tumble over the balcony and land on the polished wooden floor.
At that point VanDam and Underwood seemed to be about to close their notebooks and leave. So I felt called upon to make a statement.
“Lieutenant VanDam,” I said, “I’m sure of one thing.”
“Yes, Ms. McKinney?”
“Those truffles—well, they weren’t poisoned here!”
A slight smile flashed over VanDam’s serious Dutch face.
I went on. “I wouldn’t even have any idea of how to get hold of cyanide, and I’m sure my aunt doesn’t either.”
“Actually,” VanDam said, “getting hold of cyanide is not a big problem in this part of Michigan. Not in the summertime.”
“What do you mean?”
“Peach pits contain it.”
“Peach pits!”
He nodded. “Also cherry pits. I understand the process of brewing a little isn’t too hard.”
“That may be true. But after meeting my aunt Nettie, you can see that she’d never—well, it’s not possible for her to have any connection with any action that would harm anyone. She’s—she’s just good clear through.”
VanDam smiled at that. “Right now we’re just trying to understand how the chocolates were handled,” he said. He flipped his notebook closed and stood up. Detective Underwood imitated his actions almost exactly.
“We need to find out who had an opportunity to tamper with them,” VanDam said. He grinned. “Like you, Ms. McKinney.”
“Me!”
“You were alone with them for quite a while,” he said. Then he headed for the front of the shop, and my stomach went into a knot no Boy Scout could have tied.
I followed the detectives. I didn’t know what to say or do. VanDam’s comment wasn’t exactly news, of course. Both Aunt Nettie and I had had access to the chocolates. In theory I could have spiked them with cyanide.
So should I maintain my innocence? Point out that I had no reason for killing Clementine Ripley? Deny that I had ready access to cyanide? Yell? Scream? Beat my breast?
I decided that a dignified silence would be best. I pretended I was Miss America taking her final trip down the runway as I escorted the two state detectives to the front door. I even offered them a sample chocolate from the front counter. They declined.
I opened the door for them. “Good-bye, Lieutenant VanDam,” I said. “Good-bye, Sergeant Underling.”
I had closed the door before I heard VanDam laugh and realized what I’d said. I went back to the break room ready to cut my tongue out. It seemed determined to betray me.
Aunt Nettie had taken her interrogation calmly. The detectives had been polite, she said. They’d wanted to know how things were handled in the workroom at TenHuis Chocolade and specifically how the chocolates she’d sent to Clementine Ripley were selected.
“I just told them the truth,” she said. “I knew her favorites, because she always buys Amaretto truffles—I mean she always bought them. Sometimes she’d buy a whole pound of nothing but Amaretto truffles. I knew she had quite a sweet tooth, and I didn’t want her to mess up the display trays before they were served. But those specific truffles were taken right from our regular stock. And I do not believe that one of my ladies had poisoned some Amaretto truffles at random, and that Clementine Ripley just happened to get them.”
“I agree,” I said. “That would be too hard to swallow.”
She looked at me narrowly, then laughed. “Oh, Lee, you’re so funny!”
Then we had a big discussion on whether she should go home. I was still nervous about the burglar.
“Handy Hans called to say the window is fixed,” Aunt Nettie said firmly. “The house is as safe as it’s been for the past hundred years, and I’ve been living there for forty of those years. I’m not leaving my home.”
“That house may be inside the city limits, but it’s still
At that point VanDam and Underwood seemed to be about to close their notebooks and leave. So I felt called upon to make a statement.
“Lieutenant VanDam,” I said, “I’m sure of one thing.”
“Yes, Ms. McKinney?”
“Those truffles—well, they weren’t poisoned here!”
A slight smile flashed over VanDam’s serious Dutch face.
I went on. “I wouldn’t even have any idea of how to get hold of cyanide, and I’m sure my aunt doesn’t either.”
“Actually,” VanDam said, “getting hold of cyanide is not a big problem in this part of Michigan. Not in the summertime.”
“What do you mean?”
“Peach pits contain it.”
“Peach pits!”
He nodded. “Also cherry pits. I understand the process of brewing a little isn’t too hard.”
“That may be true. But after meeting my aunt Nettie, you can see that she’d never—well, it’s not possible for her to have any connection with any action that would harm anyone. She’s—she’s just good clear through.”
VanDam smiled at that. “Right now we’re just trying to understand how the chocolates were handled,” he said. He flipped his notebook closed and stood up. Detective Underwood imitated his actions almost exactly.
“We need to find out who had an opportunity to tamper with them,” VanDam said. He grinned. “Like you, Ms. McKinney.”
“Me!”
“You were alone with them for quite a while,” he said. Then he headed for the front of the shop, and my stomach went into a knot no Boy Scout could have tied.
I followed the detectives. I didn’t know what to say or do. VanDam’s comment wasn’t exactly news, of course. Both Aunt Nettie and I had had access to the chocolates. In theory I could have spiked them with cyanide.
So should I maintain my innocence? Point out that I had no reason for killing Clementine Ripley? Deny that I had ready access to cyanide? Yell? Scream? Beat my breast?
I decided that a dignified silence would be best. I pretended I was Miss America taking her final trip down the runway as I escorted the two state detectives to the front door. I even offered them a sample chocolate from the front counter. They declined.
I opened the door for them. “Good-bye, Lieutenant VanDam,” I said. “Good-bye, Sergeant Underling.”
I had closed the door before I heard VanDam laugh and realized what I’d said. I went back to the break room ready to cut my tongue out. It seemed determined to betray me.
Aunt Nettie had taken her interrogation calmly. The detectives had been polite, she said. They’d wanted to know how things were handled in the workroom at TenHuis Chocolade and specifically how the chocolates she’d sent to Clementine Ripley were selected.
“I just told them the truth,” she said. “I knew her favorites, because she always buys Amaretto truffles—I mean she always bought them. Sometimes she’d buy a whole pound of nothing but Amaretto truffles. I knew she had quite a sweet tooth, and I didn’t want her to mess up the display trays before they were served. But those specific truffles were taken right from our regular stock. And I do not believe that one of my ladies had poisoned some Amaretto truffles at random, and that Clementine Ripley just happened to get them.”
“I agree,” I said. “That would be too hard to swallow.”
She looked at me narrowly, then laughed. “Oh, Lee, you’re so funny!”
Then we had a big discussion on whether she should go home. I was still nervous about the burglar.
“Handy Hans called to say the window is fixed,” Aunt Nettie said firmly. “The house is as safe as it’s been for the past hundred years, and I’ve been living there for forty of those years. I’m not leaving my home.”
“That house may be inside the city limits, but it’s still
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