“You think?”But Aiden was smiling.
“I can’t help it.I have nervous energy.”She gestured helplessly at the elaborate display.“It just comes out like this.Last week I alphabetized my spice rack a couple of times.The second time was by cuisine.”
“By cuisine?”
“Italian spices, then Asian, then—you know what, never mind.”Sam picked up a grape and ate it, refusing to meet his eyes.“The point is, I’m aware this is excessive.I just can’t seem to stop myself when I’m processing things.”
Aiden grabbed a cracker topped with cheese and fig jam.“Well, your neuroses are delicious, so I’m not complaining.”He popped the cracker into his mouth.“Besides, it’s sort of endearing.Most people stress-eat junk food.You stress-arrange gourmet snacks.”
“It’s not gourmet.”Sam stopped herself, laughing.“Okay, fine.It’s a little gourmet.But in my defense, there are two dead people and I’m trying to figure out who killed them.That seems like a reasonable time to go overboard on cheese presentation.”
“Absolutely reasonable,” Aiden agreed solemnly, though his eyes were dancing mischievously.He carried the board to the kitchen table (not the dining room table, where Sam would have headed) while Sam grabbed plates and napkins.They were naturally cloth napkins she’d folded into triangles.
Arlo positioned himself strategically between their chairs, his soulful eyes tracking every piece of cheese and fruit that moved from board to mouth.
Aiden settled into his chair.“So tell me about this awkward memorial service.”
Sam filled him in on the sparse attendance, the vague eulogy, Sofia’s revelation about the argument between Margaret and Pamela, and Claire’s grief over Gerald.
“And I keep coming back to Dylan,” she said.“He has a strong motive.Actually, he has a couple of them.He would have been furious about the way Margaret made fun of him after the open mic night.But she also knew he didn’t have the MFA that he said he did.He’s the obvious suspect.”
“But?”Aiden prompted.
“But something doesn’t feel right.Margaret’s murder was patient and calculated.It was poisoned coffee, not a shove down the stairs like Gerald’s death.It’s hard for me to picture Dylan planning something like that.”She looked up at Aiden.“Have you heard anything from your contact at the station about Margaret’s death?I’m making assumptions about the coffee, but I can’t think how else she might have died.”
“Actually, yes.I wanted to hear about the service before I told you.Mike called me this afternoon before I came over because he knew I’d taken an interest.The toxicology report came back.”
Sam’s pulse quickened.“What did it show?”
“Margaret’s coffee was laced with crushed blood thinner tablets.”Aiden’s voice was quiet.“Since Margaret was already on heart medication, it caused a fatal interaction.Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing.”
Sam sat still, processing this information.“So a drug interaction.”
“That’s right.Mike said it was obviously calculated.Someone had knowledge of Margaret’s heart medication and how it would interact with a blood thinner.The bitterness of the coffee apparently masked any taste of the crushed pills.”
Something tickled at the edge of Sam’s mind.It seemed like there was something familiar.Was it about drug interactions?The thought slipped away before she could catch it.
Aiden reached across the table and took her hand.“Hey.You’ve been going non-stop with this.Maybe you need to step back for a bit.Let your brain rest.”
“I hate stepping back,” said Sam wryly.
“I know.”His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand.“But sometimes that’s when things click into place.It’s something that can happen easier when you’re not forcing it.”
Sam looked down at their joined hands.The gesture was becoming familiar and comfortable.When had that happened?When had Aiden shifted from just a nice neighbor to this?Someone whose presence made everything feel more manageable?
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said quietly.
“Me too.”His voice was warm.“Though I have to admit, when you moved in, I didn’t expect to spend quite so much time discussing murder investigations.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.It’s never boring.”He squeezed her hand gently.“I’m looking forward to our next date, whenever things settle down.Maybe in a week?Unless someone else dies, in which case I understand we’ll need to reschedule.”
“Don’t jinx it.”But Sam was smiling.“A week from now sounds perfect.”
They were both leaning slightly across the table now, the space between them shrinking.Aiden’s gaze dropped to her lips.Sam’s breath caught.
Arlo barked sharply at the back door, his “someone’s in my yard” alert.
