Raisin the Dead by Karoline Barrett Page B

reservation manager at the front desk. Detective Corsino came in really early Sunday morning, practically before the sun had risen, and asked her to ring Serafina’s room. He showed her his badge and he had a suit on.”
    I was about to suggest Rochelle entertain a little discretion in what she broadcast vis a vis the police visiting the hotel, but Olivia had grabbed Kendra’s arm, demanding to know more. Who was I to interrupt?
    â€œWhen Serafina finally came downstairs—I guess she had to get dressed first or whatever—he asked Rochelle for a private conference room, and off they went.”
    â€œI hardly think that’s screech-worthy. You scared Lola and me half to death.” I reproached.
    â€œSorry, Moll.” She thrust
The Destiny Trumpet
at us. “This might be worth screeching about.”
    I grabbed the paper from her. Lola and Olivia peered over my shoulder. The girl was right. It was screechworthy.
    The coroner has ruled the death of Philip Baldelli suspicious. Detective Corsino of the Destiny Police Department is conducting a full investigation. The autopsy determined that his kidneys contained a substance suspected to be ethylene glycol, a chemical found in antifreeze. Further toxicology testing will be done.
    The four of us stood there, our mouths hanging open. At least mine was.
    â€œIt means someone killed him, doesn’t it?” asked Kendra.
    â€œNot again,” breathed Lola. She held out an arm. “Look, I’ve got goose bumps.”
    â€œMe too,” I replied, my eyes still glued to the paper.
    â€œAntifreeze?” echoed Olivia, her voice quaking. “How did antifreeze get inside him?”
    â€œLet’s not jump to conclusions. It doesn’t mean someone killed him,” I assured them with more confidence then I felt. “It says the substance is
suspected
to be ethylene glycol. It could be something else.”
    â€œLike what, Molly?” asked Olivia.
    â€œI have no idea. But it doesn’t say anything about murder.”
    â€œNo,” agreed Lola, “but it does say his death is suspicious and the police are investigating. ‘Suspicious’ and ‘investigating’ usually go along with a crime. A crime that could be murder. How are we supposed to feel safe with another killer running around?”
    â€œMaybe he killed himself,” Kendra put in.
    â€œIt could be any number of ‘maybes,’” I suggested, although everything about this did point to foul play of some kind, like murder, maybe?
    â€œDoes the paper say anything about a note?” asked Olivia. “I didn’t read anything about a note. If it was a suicide, wouldn’t there have been a note?”
    â€œYou know the police never release all the information they have,” said Lola. “Molly, can you ask Sean about it? Ask him if this poor man was murdered.”
    â€œI can, but he won’t tell me anything.”
    Kendra elbowed me. “Maybe if you put on some sexy lingerie and give him wine, he’ll open up.”
    I tried looking stern, which isn’t a look or attitude I do particularly well. “That won’t work, Kendra. I respect Sean’s job, and him. I don’t like to interfere or try to pry information . . .” I let the rest of the sentence fade. It sounded ridiculous, even to me.
    â€œLet us know what he says,” said Olivia.
    I nodded.
    Kendra thought for a second. “Maybe he drank this stuff by accident. Not that that isn’t horrible, too.”
    â€œThat doesn’t make any sense,” retorted Olivia. “How would that happen?”
    Kendra shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m thinking of possible scenarios.”
    â€œSorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, Kendra.” Olivia turned back to me. “Molly, don’t forget to talk to Sean.”
    â€œI won’t,” I promised. “Lola, are you still in the mood to talk