Chesapeake Crimes: Invitation to Murder. Donna Andrews

When someone becomes ill suddenly, we don’t assume poison. We do as David did and question it.” She swiveled toward Hubert. “But you didn’t question it being poison.”

      “Neither did Felicia or Cody,” he retorted.

      I turned to stare at Felicia. Her arms were wrapped around Cody, and her head leaned against his chest. She clearly resented Cody’s interest in Delphine. Would she go so far as to poison her own roommate over it?

      Aunt Janet faced the detective again. “If Delphine dies, Hubert will be my mother’s only surviving grandchild. David is a step-grandchild and isn’t in the will. Anything my mother bequeaths to her grandchildren will be Hubert’s entirely.”

      “You’ll inherit, too,” Hubert said. “You could have wanted Delphine dead.”

      “I’m quite well off already, thanks to your grandfather. I don’t need Mother’s money.”

      “Hard to prove,” Hubert mumbled.

      “Not really,” Aunt Janet said. “My mother is still alive. She can tell the policemen herself.”

      Hubert’s eyes widened.

      Aunt Janet stepped toward the detective. “Hubert poisoned Delphine, and I know how he did it.”

      How could she say that? If anyone had a motive to hurt Delphine, it was Felicia. Hubert was greedy and condescending, but I didn’t see him as evil. He could even be nice at times. He’d taught me how to order wine, though he’d done it mainly to defy the underage drinking law, which he deemed provincial.

      “How did he do it?” the detective said.

      “With the letter opener,” Aunt Janet said. “He rubbed poison on it. My guess is he planned to poison Delphine somewhere else and adjusted his plans once you suggested the escape room, David. He used the handkerchief to smear poison on the letter opener without touching it himself. Then he baited Delphine to grab it by saying young women were often the culprits in Christie novels, and they got caught because they were too dumb to cover their tracks.” Aunt Janet pointed across the room. “The opener is still lying where Delphine dropped it. The police can test it for poison.” Aunt Janet gestured at Hubert. “Better yet, check the right pocket of Hubert’s trousers. I saw him put his hand in that pocket after he handled the letter opener.”

      “You’re nuts,” Hubert said.

      “Really?” the detective said. “If that’s true, you’ll have no problem emptying your pockets.”

      Looking trapped, Hubert reached into his pockets. His eyes widened as pulled out a small clear vial of liquid. “This isn’t mine,” he said.

      The detective placed it in a clear plastic bag, read the label closely, and put Hubert under arrest. I could hardly believe it.

      After Hubert was led away, Felicia and Cody quickly followed, and Aunt Janet and I were left nearly alone in the drawing room, except for one police officer who was bagging the evidence.

      Aunt Janet said softly, “Are you ready to leave for the hospital?”

      “You bet.” I needed to know if Delphine was all right. I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to talk about it yet. I glanced at the open door. “Wait a minute. Aunt Janet, you figured out the escape code. You opened the door.”

      “Yes, I did.” She gave a tiny smile of satisfaction.

      “How?”

      She pointed to the clock above the mantel. “Hickory Dickory Dock. The book suggested it, as did the RSVP clues, with the first letters of each response spelling out T-I-M-E. The clues all directed us to the clock. Eleven fifteen.”

      I stared up at the clock, my mind in a whirl.

      She put an arm around me. “I know this is all so distressing, David.”

      I turned and buried my head on her shoulder, breathing in her floral perfume, which she always ordered from Paris. When the urge to cry tickled too strongly, I lifted my head. “I never would have guessed you’d be such a good detective, Aunt Janet.”

      She stepped back. “I can’t see why not, David, with you reading all those Agatha Christie novels.” Her smile was warm. “After all, Miss Marple was always her best detective.”

      I smiled as her hands squeezed mine. Something sharp pressed into my palm and I pulled them away to reveal a sapphire ring I hadn’t noticed before. “That’s beautiful,” I said.

      “Thanks,” she said. “You can never have too many nice things.”

      As she picked up her purse, a gold bracelet slid down her arm. I hadn’t noticed that before either. I turned, taking in the room, going over what had happened. Yes, Hubert had held the letter opener with the handkerchief, I remembered, but Aunt Janet had held it first. And then he’d crowded her by the table, meaning her hand was conveniently near his pocket.

      If Delphine died and Hubert went to prison, the only one left to inherit Grandma’s money would be Aunt Janet—and maybe me, if Grandma had a change of heart. Aunt Janet didn’t need Grandma’s money, but greed was human nature. She’d practically said so herself.

      “You ready to go?” she asked.

      I nodded. “After you.”

      I might be giving Aunt Janet a wide berth from now on. Maybe it was a good thing our family rarely saw each other.

      Leone Ciporin’s short stories have appeared in Woman’s World, Flash Bang Mysteries, and several mystery anthologies. This is her third appearance in the Chesapeake Crimes series, with a story inspired by escape-room experiences on two continents, as well as her admiration for Agatha Christie. When she’s not writing mysteries, Leone works as a manager in the law department of an insurance company, which is more interesting than it sounds. Leone lives in Charlottesville, Virginia. http://leoneciporin.com