Poisoned (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) by Elaine Macko

loved.”
    “So did I,” Stuart snapped. “I know, I don’t look like I’m upset. Is that what you think?”
    I blushed. I hadn’t expected Stuart to be so perceptive. “I’m sorry. I guess people show their grief in different ways.”
    “I guess we do. Bradley was my little brother. I can’t believe he’s gone. And my parents are, well…I can’t even describe what they’re going through.”
    “Were you and your brother close?”
    Stuart rested his head against the sofa and folded his arms. “No. I don’t think one could use the word close, but we were brothers.”
    “Can you think of any reason why someone would kill him?”
    Stuart shook his head again this time dislodging a piece of hair that came forward, obscuring his eyebrows. “No, I can’t. Which makes me wonder if it was an accident.”
    “An accident. You mean the poison was meant for someone else?” I wasn’t sure if John had shared his Mrs. Brissart-as-the-intended-victim theory with the rest of the family, but it certainly seemed to be the direction that Stuart and Kendra took.
    “No. I didn’t mean that. I meant maybe the poison got into the cookies by accident. Like with that Tylenol case years ago.” He turned his head and looked at me. “Maybe my grandmother used tainted ingredients.”
    I mulled over this possibility, though if memory served, wasn’t the Tylenol tainted on purpose? I felt fairly certain it had been, though I couldn’t remember why. But if Stuart’s observation turned out correct, that something got into the cookies by accident, I wondered why John hadn’t said anything—and more importantly, why hadn’t more died? Certainly the police would have the same suspicions. “Yes, I guess you could be right,” I finally said.
    Stuart nodded and leaned forward. He took a sip from the mug he brought with him. “So you’re helping Mamoo out until Chantal comes back.”
    “Yes, that’s right.”
    “She’s a nice person—Chantal, I mean. She helped my brother with the family history.”
    “Well, not helped, exactly, just typed his notes.”
    “Yeah, I think that’s why he came over on Monday to begin with.” Stuart shook his head. “If he wasn’t here, well, then he’d still be alive.”
    “Yes, he would. But more than likely someone else would be dead,” I said, though not quite knowing if it was true. No one else had been poisoned except Bradley, and if he wasn’t there to eat one of the tainted cookies, then perhaps by morning they would have been stale and thrown out. On the other hand, maybe they would have been served for breakfast with some of Mrs. Platz’s tea. With a start, I thought of one more scenario—if Bradley hadn’t planned on coming over, then Mrs. Brissart never would have made the cookies to begin with. And if Stuart reasoned correctly and one of the ingredients was poisoned, who knew when it would be used and how many would be killed?
    “I guess you’re right,” Stuart said, bringing me back to the present.
    “Do you plan on continuing the work your brother started with the history?” I asked, thinking I needed to get off the subject of poison.
    “Me? No, not me.” Stuart laughed and raised hands. “I’m sorry to say all that history stuff doesn’t interest me much. Whatever secrets there may or may not be in our illustrious family’s background, will have to stayed buried with my brother. I plan to make my own history.”
    “ It will be found much better by all parties to leave the past to history, especially as I propose to write that history myself ,” I said.
    “Okay. If you say so.” Stuart looked baffled.
    “Just a habit of mine. I quote—never mind,” I said at Stuart’s blank look. “I understand you didn’t show up on Monday. Do you agree with your grandmother’s stance to not sell the land?”
    “Do I agree? My parents don’t want her to sell, and Bradley didn’t. But, you know, the house just sits there vacant most of the time. To be honest, if