Nate Wright strode in followed by a lovely blonde in her early thirties. Gemma Wells had moved to Bliss from New York to be with her mom. Like many who walked into Bliss, she’d quickly found two hotties to love and settled down. She ran the sheriff’s department, but in true Blissian fashion, also did some legal work on the side. Sometimes against the sheriff’s department.
Nate walked to the head of the table and pointed her way. “No fruit basket for you.”
Damn. “I’m sorry.”
Gemma’s blue eyes went wide. “She did not mean that in connection to the deceased. She’s apologizing for something else.”
Nate huffed. “Come on, Gemma. She doesn’t need a lawyer.”
“I’ve got a check from Caleb Burke that says she does.” Gemma moved to sit next to her. “And I’m serious about this job, Nate. Mama needs a new bag. I’ve been drooling over the Pradas that came out this season. Hi, Lucy. Long time, no see. Don’t incriminate yourself. That’s my advice.”
“Nate, what’s happening?” Michael got straight down to business. He sat next to Ty. “Are you taking Lucy back to the station? You need to understand she’s not going anywhere without me or Ty.”
“You couldn’t have had this happen before you got yourself two overly protective men?” Nate asked wistfully. He sighed and turned Michael’s way. “Even if I wanted to take this to the station, I couldn’t. I just ordered the pass closed. The storm’s picking up, and it’s too dangerous to go back down for a while. We’re stuck here probably until tomorrow afternoon when they can get the plows out. But I brought Cam with me, and I pulled in Alexei and Max and Rye. They’re going to help me secure everything I need to. Henry’s here, too. I’ve got him sitting in with Cam. He’s talking to the Foster siblings who aren’t currently dead or sedated.”
“Sedated?” Lucy asked.
Nate nodded. “Yeah, Caleb agreed to let Sonya Foster take her anti-anxiety meds, and now she’s sleeping it off. He said she had some strong meds, but the prescriptions were all legit.”
“At least she’s not running around accusing Lucy,” Michael muttered under his breath.
“So this young woman openly accused Lucy of being the one who poisoned Mr. Foster?” Nate asked.
“She was out of it,” Ty countered. “She was overwhelmed with grief. She walked in and found her brother lying there on the floor. She didn’t know what she was saying.”
“She might be the one who put the bottle in the bar,” Michael said quietly.
A brow rose over Nate’s eyes. “Do we have confirmation of that? I’ve got the bottle locked down, and the bartender is waiting in another room. I’m going to say, though, that he seemed genuinely shocked. I’m pretty good at reading reactions.”
“It wasn’t Van,” Lucy insisted.
Nate looked down at his notes. “According to my talk with the head of security, Van got in the middle of an argument between the Foster brothers. Brock took a couple of shots at him.”
“That doesn’t mean he would kill the man,” Lucy replied. “Also, where would he get cyanide? I’ve heard of it, but I wouldn’t know how to get my hands on it.”
“The better response is what is cyanide?” Gemma had a notepad out, too. “My client doesn’t know what poison is. Also, make your eyes big and wide.”
Nate’s eyes rolled. “I don’t think it’s Lucy. I’ve known Lucy for years. She’s not capable of killing someone.”
“Caleb is worried you’re going to lose control of this investigation.” Michael’s fingers drummed over the table until he seemed to realize what he was doing and moved his hand to his lap. “After the way the sister reacted, I’m starting to agree with him. And anything she says now you’ll have to reveal to the CBI.”
“Come on, Mike. You used to be a fed. I used to be a fed. Local law can make things easy or hard on a federal or state investigation.” Nate set his pen down. “I assure you I’m not going to let Lucy incriminate herself. She’s right about the poison, though. You can’t go to the store and buy it. I need to do some research.”
“I do all my shopping at the Trading Post,” Lucy admitted. “I really do. One time Teeny found out I bought socks at Walmart and she cried and asked me what she did wrong, and I never shopped anywhere else again.”
“I told Teeny that the day she starts stocking Chanel is the day she has all my business, and she cannot pass off Channel handbags,” Gemma added. “If Marie wants to make knockoffs, she should at least learn how to spell, and sadly how to sew because that stitchwork was not up to snuff.”
“I think that was a practical joke,” Nate said with a chuckle. “And Teeny is a little weepy since Logan moved to New York. But I’m fairly certain that the Trading Post doesn’t carry cyanide. If they did, I assure you Nell would protest.”
“I want to know how that man didn’t realize his drink smelled off.” Ty directed the statement the sheriff’s way. “It’s a very distinct odor. I only know it because I took a class on poison control. I’ve never directly dealt with cyanide, but I’ve never forgotten the smell. It was all over the room.”
“I’m surprised the bartender didn’t smell it,” Michael offered.
“He’s surrounded by booze.” She understood what Michael was trying to do, but she didn’t want him to throw Van under a bus. “And my staff was coming out of the kitchens. You can get overwhelmed with smells.”
“I can tell you why Brock Foster didn’t smell the poison,” Nate offered. “He was doing a shit ton of cocaine. From the lines of white powder on his dresser, you interrupted his hit. It looked like he’d already done a line and was ready for number two. That would have screwed him in numerous ways. We need to wait for toxicology and Caleb’s autopsy.”
“Could it have been in the coke?” Michael’s expression brightened at the thought.
“I smelled it in the drink,” Ty insisted.
“Caleb seems to think it was in the drink,” Nate replied. “But we’re early in this. We need to be patient. Lucy, tell me what happened this evening. How did you end up in his room?”
Gemma held a hand up. “I would like a moment to confer with my client in private.”
“I don’t think we need to do that. It’s simple.” Lucy decided to plunge ahead. “The room service line got a call from Mr. Foster’s suite, and he requested a glass of Scotch. That should be in the record. They would send the request to the main bar. The main bar couldn’t find the bottle and called to the ballroom, where it had been mistakenly stored. Van poured the drink and printed out the receipt. Normally I would have sent someone to take it up, but we were short staffed at the moment, and I did it myself. I didn’t realize it was Brock Foster until I was inside the room and I needed him to sign the receipt. He was drinking and said some nasty things and then he died. I called Ty and he brought Michael and Caleb.”
“Did you touch the body?” Nate asked.
She shook her head. “No, and I feel bad about that, but I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t try CPR or anything.”