"I guess," I replied. "Anyway, he says he didn't do it."

  Finn quirked an eyebrow. "That's your reason for crossing him off your list of suspects?"

  "I mean, it's not the only reason," I said with just a touch of attitude. "He's just not the most compelling suspect."

  Finn picked up his burger. "Who's your most compelling suspect?" he asked with great interest.

  "Who's your most compelling suspect?" I asked with just as much interest. "Have you had anyone else in for formal interviews like you've had with Margie?"

  "I have," he said vaguely.

  "And?" I asked, feeing more than a little impatient.

  "I've talked to Bobby, Shannon's husband," he said.

  He was giving me answers, but I didn't appreciate the way I was having to pull them out of him. "What about Amanda?" I asked.

  "From Just Beans?" he said.

  I dipped a fry in ketchup and took a bite. There was something special about food cooked in fryers and on griddles that were decades old, like the greasy goodness accumulated over time. Definitely not healthy, but it was a nostalgic taste that I loved. "Here's the thing," I said. "I'm sure you know that Shannon was suing Amanda for burning her tongue with hot coffee."

  Finn's eyes widened. "I didn't know that," he said.

  My heart gave a little skip. "What do you mean, you didn't know that? Amanda told me that she told you."

  Finn shook his head while typing something into his phone. "She most definitely didn't mention anything about that to me."

  "But…but…" I stammered. "She's been so helpful. She let me look at the security tape and everything. Why would she do that if she was guilty?"

  "She let you look at the security tape?" Finn said, sounding surprised.

  "Do you have a copy of the tape?" Was that one more thing Amanda had lied to me about?

  "I saw it," Finn said. "I didn't see anything particularly helpful besides being able to confirm all of your stories about where you were in the moments before Shannon's death. It's not great for Margie that she had access to Shannon's drink before she died."

  "Amanda had more access than Margie did," I argued.

  "That's true," Finn agreed. "The video didn't show her adding anything I wouldn't expect to be in the drink Shannon ordered."

  I sat back in my chair and tapped my finger against my lips. "What if Amanda planned the murder?" I theorized. "What if she mixed something poisonous into one of the ingredients ahead of time? Shannon always ordered the same thing. Amanda could have poisoned the sugar-free vanilla syrup or the espresso itself."

  "What if someone else came in and ordered the same thing? How would she keep the poison contained?" Finn asked.

  "She could have put it in a separate container and marked it somehow to keep it separate," I suggested.

  I pictured Amanda with her kind smile, her excitement over the new drink she'd created, and the way she'd been so helpful today, and I immediately felt guilty.

  "What's wrong? Finn asked.

  I looked up from my plate. I'd hardly touched my food. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean you went from being excited about a new theory to looking like someone just told you that all the flowers in the world went extinct," he said.

  I gave him a smile. "Is that what you think would drive me into a deep depression? No more flowers?"

  "Wouldn't it?" he asked.

  "Yeah, probably," I admitted. "You could have also said that I looked like someone just told me that Ben and Jerry's discontinued their S'mores flavor ice cream."

  "Good to know," Finn said with a sexy grin that had me momentarily forgetting my guilt over suggesting that Amanda had killed Shannon.

  It was one thing to think it myself, but pointing the detective investigating the case in Amanda's direction brought it out of my head and into the real world.

  "Maybe Amanda had a good reason for not telling you about the lawsuit?" I suggested.

  "Maybe Amanda is covering up her motive for killing Shannon," Finn countered.

  If Amanda was guilty, then I wanted justice served, but if she wasn't…

  "I had another theory today," I offered.

  Finn steepled his hands. "Shoot," he said.

  I always felt like I had Finn's full attention when we were together. In this moment, sitting at his kitchen table with delicious food and interesting conversation, I had a flash of what life with Finn might be like. I shook away the thought. I was getting way ahead of myself.

  "When I was watching the security footage, I saw that Shannon added two packets of something to her own coffee once she was sitting down," I said.

  "I noticed that," Finn said.

  "Amanda said that Shannon used her own special brand of stevia and made sure that Amanda knew that her brand of stevia was sub-par," I continued.

  Finn worked on his burger while I talked.

  "What if no one murdered Shannon?" I said dramatically.

  Finn wiped his mouth with a napkin. "The tox report was very clear that Shannon was poisoned."

  "But," I said, holding up a finger for emphasis. "What if she accidentally poisoned herself with the stevia? What if the stevia was contaminated with something like those people who die of food poisoning when there's e. coli in the food they buy from the grocery store?"

  Finn took another drink of his Coke before saying, "I got the full tox report back today."

  I leaned forward and gripped his hand. "You did?"

  Finn's gaze wandered to where my hand held his, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Shannon was not accidentally poisoned."

  I dropped back in my chair, releasing Finn's hand. "You've got to be kidding me," I said with dismay.

  Finn looked confused by my reaction. "She was poisoned with a chemical compound found in a poppy flower," he explained.

  "A poppy?" I nearly shrieked. "You can kill someone with a poppy?" I pictured the centerpieces at the garden club gala that I'd created last week. The bright-red poppies had been the star of the show.

  "How does that even work?" I asked. "You pick a flower and drop it in their tea?" None of this was making any sense to me, and it didn't look good for Margie, Dave, or any other suspect that had been at the gala, where poppies sat in the middle every table. "There were a lot of poppies at the garden club gala," I said, voicing my concerns out loud.

  "I remember," Finn said, "but it's not as simple as force feeding someone a flower. I talked to the guy at the lab. Poppies excrete a milky white sap that is poisonous to small animals and children—" Finn started.

  "But Shannon is neither of those things," I interrupted.

  "Let me finish," Finn said patiently. "In large enough doses, it can be fatal in adults, especially adults who have a pre-existing medical condition."

  "Which Shannon had?" I asked.

  Finn nodded. "I can't tell you details, because the medical records are confidential, but she did."

  "Which means someone took a poppy plant and somehow got the poison out of it?" I asked.

  Finn nodded slowly, as if considering my question. "It means whoever did it had to know how to extract the sap and deliver it to Shannon without her knowing it."

  Margie was an expert on plants. Did that make it more likely that she would know how to do something like that? An idea slammed into my head with force. If I had been a cartoon character, a light bulb would have popped into existence over my head. Who knew more about compounding something than a pharmacist?

  "Bobby might know how to do it," I said excitedly.

  Finn nodded. "That was my thought."

  "Does that mean she was poisoned before she got to Just Beans?" I asked.

  "That's still unknown," Finn said in frustration. "All of this information was from the medical examiner. I'm still waiting on results from the evidence we collected at the scene."

  "Did you ever work out Margie's alibi?" I asked.

  Finn ran a hand over his face. He suddenly looked exhausted. "Yes, but it shouldn't have been that difficult. If she would have just told me what she was doing, it would have saved me a lot of time and effort."

  "Where was she?" I asked.

  "I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone," Finn said.

  I curled my lip in frustration. I'd have to get it out of Margie herself. It might not be related to the case, but I was dying to know what Margie was doing that she'd want to keep secret in the middle of a murder investigation.

  I thought through everything Finn had just told me. "So, we know she didn't die accidentally of consuming a bad batch of stevia," I said. "Someone really murdered her."

  Finn nodded.

  I pulled my hair over my shoulder and started braiding. My afternoon dumpster dive, which apparently had been completely worthless, ran through my mind in vivid detail. I swear I could smell the rancid coffee all over again.

  "I know it would be easier if Shannon's death had been an accident," Finn said gently.

  "It's not just that," I said absently.

  "What's wrong, then?" he asked. "Are you worried about Margie?"

  "No," I started, before correcting myself. "Yes, I'm worried about Margie, but that's not it." I dropped the braid and shook my hair back to its normal state. "Promise not to get mad or to laugh?" I asked.

  "If those are the two most likely outcomes of what you're about to tell me," he said with a slight chuckle, "then I'm intrigued."

  Better to get it over with. If I didn't tell him, Penny probably would. "When I had the idea that Shannon's stevia might have accidentally poisoned her, I thought I could find those packets, you could have them tested, and it would prove my theory," I said in a rush.

  "You…" Finn looked like he was picturing in his head what my words implied. "Looked for the packets…" His lips twitched like he was trying to conceal a smile. "By looking in the garbage?" His eyes danced with delight.

  "In the dumpster," I clarified. I shuddered. "And there was a rat in there."

  Finn threw his head back and laughed.

  "It's not funny," I said, although watching Finn laugh his head off did shine a tiny light of humor on the situation. "The rat could have bitten me. I could have gotten rabies. I could have died."

  Finn wiped at his eyes. If he was laughing hard enough to cry, I was going to kill him. "Did the rat bite you?" he asked between chuckles.

  "No," I said petulantly.

  Finn stopped laughing and tried to appear serious, although he couldn't stop smiling. "I'm sorry," he said with sincerity. He took my hand. "I'm very glad you didn't get rabies and die."

  I was finding it harder to stay mad at him with his warm hand wrapped around mine. "Thank you," I said. "Want to know the worst part?"

  "I do," he said seriously, although his eyes still danced with amusement.

  "I didn't even find Shannon's sweetener packets, and then when I saw the rat, I fell down in the dumpster, and then a whole bag of garbage spilled on me. I might have to throw those clothes away," I lamented.

  "Well, I like the clothes you're wearing now," Finn said, his voice growing deliciously growly.

  I'd taken off the faux-leather jacket when I arrived, leaving just the dark-blue silk tank. "Are you trying to butter me up?" I asked flirtatiously.

  "I'm trying to make up for laughing at your adventure," Finn said. "Is it working?"

  I didn't want to give in too easily, but he was completely charming me. "Maybe a little," I admitted.

  "Come on," Finn said. "I have a surprise." He tugged me to my feet and led me into the living room at the front of the house. A large picture window looked out over the front yard, where a tall oak tree was silhouetted by the streetlight on the corner.

  Finn turned a lamp on next to the tan leather couch, which faced the window.

  "Have a seat," Finn said, indicating I should sit on the couch. "I'll be right back."

  "Where are you going?" I asked as he walked behind the couch and back into the kitchen.

  "Close your eyes," Finn said.

  The fluttering in my stomach intensified as I wondered what this big surprise could be. I heard Finn approach then felt him sit on the couch next to me. "Can I open my eyes?" I asked.

  "Open them," he said.

  I opened my eyes. Finn was holding a cloth napkin, two spoons, and a pint of Ben and Jerry's S'mores ice cream. My gaze flew to his face. He was beaming proudly.

  "But— How—" I stammered. "I just told you about this."

  "I called Penny after we spoke earlier," he said. "She told me it was your favorite."

  I was melting faster than the ice cream. "That is the sweetest thing," I said. I gave Finn a sly smile. "Does this mean we're on a date?"

  Finn hummed noncommittally. "I'm not sure this counts. I didn't pick you up. I didn't take you out."

  I snatched one of the spoons from his hand and relieved him of the ice cream. "This is a date," I teased. "You bought me food. You complimented me. You held my hand, and you asked my best friend what kind of ice cream I like."

  "If you say so, Guinevere Merlin Stevens," he said with a teasing smile.

  I snorted out a laugh at his attempt to guess my King Arthur themed middle name. "Nope."

  "Lancelot?" he said.

  "Why do you keep guessing boy names?" I asked, laughing.

  "Fine, Guinevere Morgan Stevens," he said.

  "Closer," I replied. I pretended to check my nonexistent watch. "You're running out of time."

  Finn sighed with exasperation. "Nimue?" He pronounced it nee-moo.

  My smile dropped.

  "That's it?" he asked in surprise.

  "You are never to repeat that again," I said. "It's a sacred honor to know it, much like it was a sacred honor for King Arthur to interact with Nimue. And it's pronounced nee-moo-ee," I added.

  "Your middle name is in honor of the Lady of the Lake," Finn said thoughtfully.

  "You know what the worst part is?" I asked.

  "What?" Finn asked.

  "In some legends, the Lady of the Lake's name is Viviane. How much better would that have been? Guinevere Viviane Stevens," I said.

  "I don't know. N—" Finn started.

  I held up a finger to silence him. "What did I say about repeating it?"

  Finn took my finger and pressed a tender kiss to the tip. "That name will never leave these lips again," he vowed.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  I woke up the next morning determined to find out once and for all if Bobby had murdered his wife. I couldn't get the idea that a pharmacist was the perfect person to poison someone out of my mind. How to go about that was the question. I sat at my kitchen table and looked over my mini murder board while I ate toast and scrambled eggs.

  I didn't have to be at Camelot Flowers until this afternoon. We had plans to sit down and crank out all the corsages and boutonnieres for the Starry Night formal tomorrow. The high school student who helped part time, Hailey, was coming in after school to run the front of the store while we worked.

  I'd taken my journal to Finn's the night before, but I hadn't even taken it out of my purse. I added a line that read, poisoned with a poppy. How sad. There were a lot of ways to die. Dying because of a beautiful flower shouldn't be one of them.

  Things weren't looking good for Bobby. If the note left on my door was correct, he was having an affair. He had the knowledge to poison someone, although a poppy seemed like a weird way to do it. As a pharmacist, it seemed like he'd have access to any number of drugs that could be fatal in the wrong dosages. Maybe he resented how passionate Shannon was about her gardening projects and saw it as poetic justice to kill her with a flower.

  Unfortunately, it was just as likely that Margie or Dave would use a flower. Reluctantly, I drew a line between their names on the paper and the information about what had killed Shannon. I needed to get more information about Bobby. If I were a pharmacist and I was going to kill someone I was married to, I wouldn't mix up the poison at home where I could be caught. No, I'd do it at work after hours. The pharmacy was filled with all sorts of medically confidential information. Getting a warrant to search it might be harder than getting a warrant to search a house.

  That settled it. I needed to help Finn, but for my plan to work, I needed help too. Finn was out of the question because he'd think my plan was highly illegal, which it probably was. Penny and Chris were already at school for the day, so they were out. I thought through the other friends I had in town but discarded each of them. Asking someone to distract Bobby while I broke into his office required a level of closeness I only had with a few people.

  There was one person who would not only be up for it, but would have an amazing time doing it, but I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. Should I really ask a murder suspect to help me find evidence against another murder suspect? I sighed. This was really my only option.

  I found my phone in the living room and called Margie. She answered with a cheery, "Good morning, Guinevere."

  "Hey, Margie," I said before jumping right into it. "How would you feel about helping me with something related to Finn's case?"

  "I'm in," she said enthusiastically.

  "But I didn't even tell you what it is," I countered.

  "Whatever it is, I'm in," she said. "What are we doing?"

  I should have expected this response. "I want to find evidence that Bobby poisoned his wife. To do that, I want to search the pharmacy to see if he has an office there. I need someone to cause a distraction at the drugstore so I can sneak in," I explained.

  "Sounds easy enough," she said with as much enthusiasm as the first time.

  "Are you sure?" I asked. "It's kind of like breaking and entering."

  "Are you going to break anything?" she asked slyly.

  "Not if I can help it," I said with a smile.

  "Then it's really just entering, and that doesn't sound very illegal to me," Margie said with a little too much glee in her voice.

  "You're a bad influence," I teased.

  "If you don't want my help…" she said archly.

  "No, no, I do want your help," I said in a rush.

  "When do you want to meet there?" she asked.

  I checked the time. "The pharmacy opens in ten minutes. Let's plan to get there in thirty."

 

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