"Bad flow in there." Deirdre sniffed.

"A feng shui nightmare," I whispered. Bad flow! Of course it would be until all the furniture was in place and the boxes out, and "worthy" colors chosen. Deirdre must have felt some bad vibes about Robert.

I turned to Elizabeth and opined, "Elizabeth, don't you think it's a little weird that he came to your party uninvited because he saw others coming and going?"

"Kay, you're too proper. There's something about that man I find fascinating."

"Elizabeth, he's old enough to be your father," Deirdre said, which she followed with a not-that-that-ever-stopped-you look.

"I know, I know. But something about him."

I sighed heavily. This conversation was starting to bore me.

"Elizabeth, John-" Deirdre started.

"I'm in love with John, but I think Robert is sexy! You two...deal with it!"

With that, Elizabeth started across the street. I hadn't notice that she wore pumps over, in the snow. I wonder if she had had a glimpse of Robert prior to our meeting.

Deirdre and I looked at each other, then started walking home.

"Kay, since the guys are practicing tonight would you have time to start painting the shop. I think we'll have a few nights of work."

"Okay. This is a good time. The kids are gone. I wanted to discuss some things with you anyway, about the caretaker's death."

"We'll have plenty of time to talk. I'll pick you up at seven o'clock."

When we reached the end of my driveway, we turned towards Ted's house, and saw Robert still watching Elizabeth making her way, through the snow.

"Something's not quite right with that guy," Deirdre said. "Just a feeling I have."

"Ditto."

I came inside and looked at the time: eleven o'clock. Soon I had to think about going to Hawthorne Hills. I went into the living room and started paging through the book on Italy. Where would we all go? We had been to northern Italy years ago. I definitely wanted to go back to Venice. Phil and I read an intriguing mystery series that took place in Venice. Rome or Florence would be new. And of course there was Sicily. Palermo, the Taormina area. Tomorrow I would pick up those brochures. A whole slew of them. Palermo. I'd need to figure out what we would do in Palermo.

At one o'clock I walked through the entrance of Hawthorne Hills, and headed straight for the dining room. Lunch had just ended and the tables were being cleared. The tall, red-haired girl who had left to get Dr. Lee at the Christmas tea was clearing the table near the entryway. I asked her if she would be able to talk to me a few minutes about the day of the Christmas tea. She nodded and wiped the table.

"Did you know Les very well?" I asked. "No, but I did know his partner quite well."

"Partner? Lola?"

"No. Viktor. He was sitting with him when it happened?"

"What do you mean 'partner'?"

"You know...his boyfriend. Viktor was at the table when Les started choking. Or at least when it looked like he was choking."

"Les was gay? I thought he had a girlfriend."

"That ended. He was never serious about her. His partner was Viktor. He's the one who did the Heimlich maneuver on him. Before..."

I would need to speak to Viktor about Les, to see if he knew why Les was a target. "Do you think Viktor would talk to me?"

"Of course, he's a great guy."

"I'm trying to figure out how peanuts got into the food. Both the patisserie and Hawthorne Hills deny the possibility of it happening."

"No idea. You might want to talk to Sheila in the kitchen; she's in charge, although I don't know if she'll talk to you. Don't take it personally. She doesn't have the best people skills."

The girl went over to the next table and started clearing it.

I went to the kitchen door and opened it. Chelsey was washing the dishes. She looked up at me. Her eyes went wide. She glanced over towards a woman who was standing up.

"Can I help you? I'm in charge of the kitchen. Sheila Harris."

Sheila's voice had the rasp of a two packs a day smoker. Her facial features were sharp and full of angles. Her mouth, disciplined and her eyes, penetrating.

"My name is Kay Driscoll. I was one of the persons who performed CPR on Les. Could I have a word with you?" I held out my hand.

Sheila did not extend her hand. "I'm busy. Need to get next week's menus figured out."

I lowered my hand. "It would only take a minute."

"Oh...all right." She threw the cookbook down she was holding a bit too hard and glared at me. "What do you want?"

I ignored her tone and opened the door to the dining room. "Shall we sit in the dining room?" Everyone in the kitchen was staring at us. She led the way into the other room.

We sat down at a table. "I was told that you put the same foods on each of the tiered trays that were served and that you ticketed which tray went to which table." No use beating around the bush.

"So?"

This woman...Did Nancy only hire people who reflected her own nasty disposition?

"So...why did Les have an allergic attack, when other residents who had the same allergy didn't?"

Just then Chelsey came out of the kitchen and started filling the salt and pepper shakers. She glanced in my direction with an odd expression on her face.

"Who said others had allergies?"

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Are you insinuating something here?"

I didn't respond. After staring at each other for several seconds, I added, "Just trying to lay out the facts, Sheila."

"I don't like your tone, Ms. Driskill." Sheila stood up and walked back into the kitchen.

Chelsey came by, filled the shakers at my table and said under her breath, "Meet you in the parking lot. Ten minutes." She went to the next table.

I put on my coat and scarf, taking my time. When I passed by the kitchen window, I saw Sheila watching me. Ms. Driskill indeed! I went out the front door, got into my car, and drove around back to the parking lot. A couple of minutes later Chelsey hustled out of the back door, looking behind her. As she approached the car, I motioned with my head that she should go around to the passenger's side. Inside the car, I suggested to her that we park down the street a block or two away. She agreed. I pulled out of the parking lot.

"Mrs. Driscoll-" she said.

"Please, call me Kay."

"Kay, you know Les died because of his allergy."

I hope she had something new to tell me. "Yes, I know."

"This morning I was straightening out the storage cupboard in the kitchen and way in the back behind some cans, I found a small jar of peanut butter. It had been opened, and some was missing."

"Peanut butter? At the Home?" This was a bit too easy. But why would Chelsey lie about the peanut butter. I didn't know her, but if she was part of this murder, why bring up the peanut butter? I believed her. "Do you have the jar?" If someone had hidden the jar, there could be some fingerprints on it.

"No. But later in the morning, thinking it might be evidence, I went back, but it was gone."

"Did you check all over?"

"I looked all over that cupboard."

"In the trash?"

"Too late, if it was put in there. Today's garbage day."

I pounded my fist on the dashboard. Another dead end. A piece of evidence that was gone before it could even play a part in the case. I glanced over at Chelsey. But it was enough to know that there was peanut butter at the scene of the crime, which I had been assured time and again, that there was no possibility that it could have been in the kitchen. Still, having the actual physical evidence in hand would have been a big break. I pulled over in front of a school and parked.

Chelsea gave me an incredulous stare. Her mouth fell open.

"Sorry." I smiled. "I'm glad you told me about what you found. Did anyone see you looking in the cupboard?"

"There were others in the kitchen, but I don't think so."

"Yesterday, you started telling me something and were interrupted."

She bit at her lips. "Well...Les said something funny was going on at the Home."

"Such as?"

Chelsey looked out her window and mumbled, "Concerning Nancy and some of the male residents."

"Nancy?"

"Some kind of scam. He saw her cozying up to them."

"What do you mean 'cozying up?'"

She rubbed her hands on her pants legs. "Just that some of the men were responding to Nancy. If you're lonely and getting special attention, if you know what I mean," she cleared her throat, "you're not always thinking with your brain."

I thought about the Christmas tea. How Nancy had smiled at Dr. Lee and then looked daggers at me. It could just be her personality, acting different around men. I'm glad she was out of Phil's band.

"Les once told me to keep my eyes open, and give him names if I noticed anything unusual."

"You must have been close to Les for him to confide this to you..."

"We were best buds. Like this." She crossed her fingers. "We started working at Hawthorne Hills the same day."

"I keep thinking about Lola and Les...could she have possibly been jealous of your relationship with Les?"

"She was definitely the jealous type, although not of us. She knew we were just friends. I also think she knew that Les was never serious about her, which made her angry. She hated it that he took up with Viktor after her. Might have made her feel inadequate. Like it was her fault, something she did."

I shook my head. I didn't know Les, but you can't help who you love.

"I didn't want to say anything last time I spoke with you, because Lola is better, but she had taken court ordered anger management classes and counseling at the clinic."

"Court ordered? What did she do?"

"She purposely drove her car into a grocery store. Maybe they didn't give her double coupons that day. I don't know."

"You're kidding me."

"She said it was an accident. Her accelerator stuck. I heard someone said she had an insane smile on her face and then gunned her engine and jumped the curb."

"And she passed the background check at Hawthorne Hills?"

"I don't know. Mrs. Driscoll...Kay, I know she had to pay damages and take the classes. I need to get back."

While driving the two blocks back, I thought of how I would get into medical records at the clinic. And looking at Lola's medical records could be construed as unethical, but if it meant justice for Les?

When Chelsey said goodbye, a tear fell out of the corner of her eye. She closed the car door.

I went to Saturday evening mass and had a quick bite to eat afterwards. Deirdre drove up the driveway at exactly seven o'clock.

We parked in front of the future home of Deirdre's herbal shop and carried buckets of saffron-colored paint into the building. The ladders and painting equipment were waiting for us. I knew Deirdre would follow certain guidelines, to draw the positive chi energy into her shop, enhancing her chances for success, but she hadn't told me those plans yet. We got down to work, poured paint into pans, and started rolling the color on the walls.

"I wonder what the story is on Robert," Deirdre said, standing back and looking at her paint job. "I'm going to keep my third eye on him."

We laughed.

"Elizabeth's impulsive. She doesn't look before she leaps," I noted.

"I thought you said Elizabeth and John were getting engaged."

"That's what Elizabeth said." I told Deirdre about Elizabeth finding a receipt for an engagement ring.

"John hasn't mentioned anything to Elizabeth about marrying him? I hope she doesn't get hurt."