Apparently, bee venom used in a therapeutic manner can alleviate arthritic and joint pain. However, at the bottom of the page was a warning stating that bee venom should under no circumstances be ingested by individuals with any kind of bee allergy. My fingers trembled over the keys as I recalled Marlette’s bloated fingers and puffed face when he lay dead on the couch.
Sitting back, I went over the sequence of that tragic morning—finding Marlette, Franklin administering CPR, Jude suggesting someone had committed murder, Carson Knight pointing out that Marlette’s death looked like an allergic reaction. Luella hadn’t arrived at the office until after the police, so how could she possibly have injected Marlette with bee venom?
Then I remembered that she was the one who pointed to the dead bee on the floor, making the suggestion it had come in with the flowers.
It was as if a jolt of espresso hit my brain. I didn’t know how or when, and wasn’t completely certain of the why, but with an Althea-like certainty, I knew that Luella had done the cruel deed and then dropped a bee on the floor in an attempt at misdirection.
I heard voices in the distance. They jarred me out of my ruminations, and I quickly turned off the computer. By the time footsteps sounded on the stairs, I had scurried to my office, where I opened the yogurt and stuck a spoonful into my mouth.
Feigning interest in the queries on my desk as I ate, I kept track of the agents returning to the office. I waved to Franklin, called hello to Flora, smiled at Jude, and raised a strawberry to Zach. I wasn’t sure what I would do when Luella walked past my door, and I realized I should phone Sean and tell him what I knew, but I was too keyed up at the moment and needed to calm down in order to speak to him rationally.
My attention was drawn to a disturbance in the reception area, and I went to investigate, thankful for the distraction. A very short, stout woman with a cloud of wild dark curls and round tortoiseshell glasses stood with hands on hips, looking vexed. In her magenta pantsuit, she seemed the antithesis of Bentley, who towered over her and was gesticulating with one hand, her diamond bracelets glittering in the light.
“I’m sure she’s just running a bit late. We’ll track her down, Calliope. Never fear. I’ll get someone to bring you a coffee while you wait.”
“I don’t want a coffee!” the woman named Calliope replied in an angry voice, gesticulating dramatically. “I had an appointment with Luella that should have started fifteen minutes ago. I am wasting precious writing time.”
As she turned toward the stairs, Bentley touched her lightly on the shoulder. “Please, don’t do anything rash, Calliope. Think of the years you’ve been with us. Luella ran an errand to the pharmacy and is likely on her way back as we speak. Just wait a little longer while we get ahold of her.”
A man’s figure dashing up the stairs caused both women, and me, to stop and stare in that direction. Jude burst onto the landing, his smile searing away the tension in the room. My heart did a little skip.
“Calliope, Lady of the Midas Pen,” he said, bowing slightly and holding out a small gold box. “I believe your favorite truffles are raspberry and champagne.” He gave her a beautiful smile. “When I heard you were coming to the office, I rushed out to get some just for you.”
Calliope blushed and twittered. “Oh, thank you, Jude. I’m so flattered you remembered.” Taking the box, she turned to Bentley. “All right, I’ll give Luella the benefit of the doubt. This is the first time she hasn’t been prompt. I’ll wait a little longer.” She sat primly on the sofa, the very one upon which Marlette had expired. I was thankful it had been cleaned. Calliope glanced up at Jude, blushing again, before focusing on her chocolates.
Jude winked at Bentley, and she grinned deviously in response. I couldn’t believe she’d used Jude’s sex appeal to pacify Calliope. And if he was already back in the office, where was Luella?
Clearing my throat, I approached her. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Oh, Lila, thank goodness you’re here.” Bentley grabbed my elbow and steered me toward the hallway, where she said in a low voice, “I need you to drive over to Luella’s house and see if she’s there. She’s not answering her home phone or her cell.” Quickly looking back at the woman sitting on the couch, she whispered, “Calliope is a very important client, and she’s here to discuss the details of a contract for three more books in her bestselling Passionate Plantation series. She’s been threatening to change to a New York agency whose name I will not mention because they apparently know how to wine and dine their clients to Calliope’s high standards. But we cannot lose her! She is one of our most lucrative clients. You must find Luella.”
“Where does she live?” I stammered, my thoughts darting about as I considered having to face Luella on her own turf after making her my enemy. “I don’t have a car.”