“That’s when he told you about the new plan,” Mervyn surmises.
“Like he expected a pat on the back! I wanted to go talk to his father, but Bradley was hell-bent on ‘shooting some pool.’ When I told him I didn’t play, he said, ‘You’re no fun, Miss Bernie. Guess you can’t live in BRO Town.’”
“You went to the billiards room with him?”
“I still hoped I could talk some sense into him.”
BINGO!Mrs. A writes on the board. That confirms the first part of our theory: Bernie was there when it happened.
“And then?” Mervyn asks, more calmly than I would have managed at that moment.
“Bradley started playing pool against himself, but his eyes were all red and puffy, and he was sweating and belching, like it was already his frat house. He grabbed my cup again and started chugging, which was incredibly rude, even though I obviously wasn’t going to drink out of it again after he’d slobbered all over it. He said something about his throat itching and the next thing I knew, he was choking.” She turns to Mervyn like she expects him to share her outrage. “How can someone die from drinking lemonade? It’s not even real juice!”
“They can’t,” Mervyn says, but his voice is so low I’m not sure she hears.
“And then he started convulsing,” she complains, like Bradley’s death is something that happened toher, “and pulled out that thing. His allergy pen or whatever.”
“Why didn’t he use it?”
“How should I know? Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight.”
Felix nudges me, and I know we both caught it: Bernie looking down and to the side, which is the facial equivalent of flying a flag that reads, I AM LYING.
But about which part?
Mervyn stands and crosses to the mantel. It’s the slow walk of a lead actor who knows every eye is tracking his progress across the stage. After a dramatic pause, he delivers his next line.
“Bradley wasn’t allergic to Crystal Light.”
“Oh. Well.” Bernie shifts in her chair, rapidly adjusting to the news. “Then it’s like I said. It wasn’t my fault. He must have eaten something he shouldn’t have.”
“Colchicine and gloriosine,” Mervyn says.
“He was on drugs? I knew it!”
Mervyn shakes his head. “They’re from a plant.Gloriosa superba.Also known as the flame lily or tiger claw.”
“Was he smoking it?”
“No.” After another fraught silence, he finishes the thought. “It was in your cup.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURTHE BODY WITH THE SHOCKING TWIST
Silence fills the utility closet like packing peanuts. Did he just say what it sounded like he said?
Mr. Namura grabs the whiteboard from Mrs. A, scribbling on it before holding it up for everyone to see.
WTF…
“You see what he’s doing?” Grandma Lainey whispers.
I shake my head, clinging to a faint hope that the answer will beTelling an outrageous lie to trick Claude’s sister into a confession.
Mrs. A passes the message board to my grandmother, holding a finger to her lips. The marker squeaks as she scrawls,VILLAIN MONOLOGUE.
She’s right, of course. That is what’s happening, which means that…Mervynis the murderer? Mervyn of the bow ties and hopeless crush on my grandmother? Mervyn who was ready to help us every step of the way, except apparently not?
“What are you talking about?” Bernie snaps on the otherside of the wall. “I told you: It was Crystal Light. Nothing else. It’s what I always drink.”
