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“Someone with access to the kitchen?” comes out as more of a question than intended.
“That’s everyone,” Mom defeatedly announces.
“To create this type of homemade concoction, a person could possibly be using a variation of herbs-”
“Someone with gardening knowledge,” I verbally begin to list. “Like the gardening group? Or the tree trim dude?”
“Or they could use spices-”
“Culinary knowledge.” There’s no stopping me from snapping my stare to Mom’s. “Do you really trust Lucky?”
“Of course she trusts him!” my boyfriend barks. “He’s trustworthy!”
“Little redundant,” J.T. mumbles more to himself than us.
“Maybe it’s a long con!” It’s my turn to spring to my feet to face him during my panicking. “Maybe he’s been waiting for the perfect time to get my mom out of the way for…for…for…”
“For what?!” he aggressively yells.
“Idontfuckingknow!” Yet again my hands fly into the air. “I like just got here!”
“Then I suggest you keep your baseless accusations about my staff. To. Your. Self. Miss Winters.”
“And I suggest you stop pretending you live in a perfect fucking fairytale, Mr. Wilcox.”
“Enough,” Mom calmly declares causing the two of us to present each other with space.
Significant. Distance.
“It probably isn’t Lucky,” Puppet Boy pops into the argument, “however, didn’t you almost get one of his staff fired a few weeks ago?” Our attention all swings to my mom. “Shortly before all this started?”
“Reprimanded.” Recollection immediately lights itself up in her expression. “I got her reprimanded for chipping one of the China teacups. Penny told Clark what she saw. He reported it to me – because I’m Head of the Household – and I brought up the issue with Lucky who then handled it.” She shifts her gaze to meet with the man who employs her. “I do my absolute best not to micromanage the different departments, sir.”
He offers her a nod of understanding. “You have built an incredible system here.”
“And yet someone is trying to kill her,” I less than quietly remind.
“Not. Kill.” Hamilton unhappily snips. “Simply…torment.”
“Yes, torture is much better than killing, Bones.”
“Logically speaking it is,” Puppet Boy cringes.
“Herbs and spices are the most likely candidates used for creating this sort of chemical mixture,” Hamilton struggles not to wince, “but there’s also another option.”
The unspoken possibility is one that’s already crossed my mind. “Don’t say it.”
“Certain types of aquatic creatures can and do carry natural toxins that can be harmful to humans.”
“Knew it.” Folding my arms across my chest is attached to an annoyed headshake. “I fucking knew you were going to say that.” More irritation glows in my glare. “One way or another ocean life always gets blamed for people’s mistakes like it’s their fault humans do stupid shit.”
“Not the time for that lecture, Bryn,” Mom firmly scolds, prompting me to shut my mouth.
“In my medical opinion,” Hamilton speaks firmer and louder, “until we have definitive answers for the type of compound and a clear idea of the culprit, you, Lauren, are not to eat or drink anything that isn’t handmade and/or directly bought as well as brought to you by someone in this room.”
“I’m going to the grocery store right now,” I declare on a move towards the door.
“That’s unnecessary,” my boyfriend doesn’t hesitate to decide.
