“What can I say?” He gives an impish smirk. “I like to live life on the edge. Besides, it’s only illegal if you’re offering medical services. Anyone can call themselves doctor. It’s not like I’m performing surgeries or giving medical advice unless it’s how to treat personal itching in your downstairs department. Which I’d like to add, is not from personal experience, but let’s just say some of the ladies at The Rainbow Room are not as discerning as I am when it comes to their choice of bed partners, naming no names… Brandy…” He coughs into his fist on the last word.
“I don’t even want to know.” I shake my head and roll my eyes as he links his arm through mine. “Feeling better?”
“Actually, yes. Thank you for asking,” Chan says. “Who knew all it would take is a funeral?”
“I think it’s less the funeral and more the company,” Danny rumbles, watching Chan fondly. I know he has a massive soft spot for the beautiful drag queen. “Tristan is always good at cheering people up, even if he doesn’t realise he’s doing it.”
“That’s because he’s such a sweetie.” Chan squeezes my arm. “And you’re right. I just don’t think I could deal with all the bitchiness and drama at the club today. I needed to be around people who are less high maintenance.”
“Well, I’m glad we were here to bore you.” I snort quietly. “Come on, let’s get to Clapham before one of the old ladies asks you to look at their bunions, Dr Chan.”
Chan gags and I chuckle as we head toward the cars, even as I wonder where on earth Dusty and Mrs Abernathy have disappeared to.
12
The community centre is actually much busier than I thought it would be given the limited number of people who actually attended the funeral, but as Danny, Chan, and I weave through the tables after Maddie begged off with more work, I realise why.
Larry hasn’t hired out the whole of the community hall for her aunt's wake. Instead, it’s still open to the public but with a small corner sectioned off and labeled private.
They’ve made an effort, bless them. The Formica tables with folding legs are covered with white tablecloths—okay, they’re paper, but they hide the worst of the scratches and dents, and there are about five tables out for them, all set with afternoon tea.
On each table is a little ceramic vase with plastic daisies in it from Home Bargains, and I know that for certain because as we take a seat at the nearest table, I can see someone has left the label on. There are also tiered china cake stands filled with plump scones, slices of Victoria sponge, prettily iced fairy cakes, and rich-looking chunks of chocolate brownies.
“Oh yes, now you’re talking.” Chan rubs his hands together gleefully. “I see a chocolate brownie with my name on it.”
“No,” Danny whispers. “Don’t eat anything, just in case.”
“Seriously?” Chan whines, eyeing up the brownies.
“It’s probably fine, but I’d prefer if you both didn’t risk it,” he says firmly.
“What about tea?” I turn to Danny. “Can we at least have a cup of tea?”
He glances over at the large metal urn of hot water and the teacups lined up in a military-like fashion.
“Okay, but only as long as you’ve made it yourself,” Danny concedes.
“Christ, I never thought I’d have to worry about my drink being spiked by a bunch of OAPs. It's like a bloody Agatha Christie novel,” Chan mutters. “I’m going to grab something from the vending machine in the foyer.”
He slides out of his chair and disappears back through the doors. I’m still busy scanning the room to see if Dusty and Mrs Abernathy are here, but I can’t see them anywhere. In fact, I haven’t seen them since the garden of remembrance at the crematorium.
“Here you go.” I look up as Danny sets a cup of tea in front of me and places his own down next to it as he takes a seat.
A few seconds later, Chan sits down on the opposite side of me and cracks open a can of Diet Coke. “Okay, there wasn’t a lot to choose from, the machine needs refilling… pick one.” He holds up a pack of individually wrapped biscuits in one hand and a Mars bar in the other.
“Thanks.” I reach for the biscuits and set them next to my tea.
“Do you really think one of those old ladies poisoned the old girl? What’s her name again?” Chan mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate and caramel.
“Delores Abernathy.” Danny stirs his tea thoughtfully. “And no, not necessarily. We’re just taking precautions. All we know right now is that the poisoning most likely occurred during her visits here. We’ve more or less ruled out her carers and anyone at the home, but here it could be anyone. Staff, visitors… even one of her so-called friends.”
“It’s a bit weird though, isn’t it?” Chan wrinkles his nose. “Poison… I mean why would you? If you want someone dead, there’s loads of easier ways to kill someone.”
“Why do people even kill in the first place?” Danny shrugs. “Sometimes we never get to understand the thought process behind why someone commits murder and even less why they choose a certain method.”
“But no one else has been affected though?” I turn to look at Danny. “So far it’s only Mrs Abernathy that was showing signs of poisoning?”
He nods. “That’s right. Other than one other person we suspect may have been poisoned by accident when she ate something that was intended for Delores. There’s been no other cases of arsenic poisoning.”
