Alex Harris 00 - Poisoned

come by this afternoon.” She turned to Roberta. “I said—”
    “I heard you. It won’t do any good. I am not, repeat, not , changing my mind, and that’s all there is to it. And don’t you even think about letting those tears start running.” Mrs. Brissart pointed a stern finger at May, who put hankie to eyes again for the third time.
    “You can’t hold out forever,” May said, forgetting about the tears for the moment and returning to an air of superiority with the ease of someone used to slipping in and out of personalities depending on the circumstance. “That land is going to be sold and that’s all there is to it. The whole family is in complete agreement, except, of course, you.”
    I watched as a smile formed on the lips of Mrs. Brissart and wondered what this was all about.
    “It seems my non-participation is enough to cancel the deal. Without my signature, you cannot sell that land, and if I must repeat myself for the millionth time, I will—I will not sign, I will not sell! If you want that land, you’re going to have to kill me first!” Mrs. Brissart got up and went back down the hall.
    “We’ll see about that!” the twins shouted after her. “We’ll be back this afternoon! You might want to dress up a bit—at least change your shoes!”
    A few seconds later the front door slammed.

CHAPTER THREE

    Bradley Brissart arrived at precisely one o’clock. Chantal greeted him with a wide smile and introduced us explaining I would be assuming her duties for the next few days. Chantal was right. Bradley obviously won the good looks lottery and possessed some great manners. The perfect gentleman.
    “I thought I heard you,” Mrs. Brissart said a few seconds later and placed a kiss on her grandson’s cheek. “I made a wonderful surprise for you. Go ahead and start your work. I’ll be back shortly.”
    Bradley looked hopefully first at me and then Chantal.
    “She’s been in the kitchen most of the morning and that’s all we’re going to say,” I teased him, already feeling comfortable with this young man who seemed to be full of fun.
    “Well, then,” Bradley clapped his hands together in much the same way his grandmother did, “it must be something to eat. Good. I never ate lunch.” He put down his briefcase and took out a stack of papers. “Did Mamoo tell you about the history?”
    “Mamoo?”
    “It’s what I call my grandmother. My brother started it way back when and it stuck.”
    “She did. And it’s no problem,” I said. “Chantal filled me in about what you’ve written so far and it sounds fascinating. I’m looking forward to working on it.”
    I took a stack of papers from Bradley and looked them over. Chantal told me his foray into the family history started about six months ago; about the same time he started dating Kendra Merchant and had discovered their family histories were bound together in the eighteen-hundreds before the death of one of Kendra’s ancestor severed the ties.
    Deep into reading the history, I was jolted out of my thoughts by Roberta. She really was stealth-like. The CIA could probably put her to good use.
    “Surprise! I made your favorite, Bradley.”
    Bradley turned toward his tiny grandmother dwarfed further by the large platter she held. He leaned closer for a better look at the large, lumpy, orange and dark brown concoctions, some with chocolate chips arranged into sinister faces.
    “Mamoo, I don’t believe it! How on earth did you get them to look like this?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing and they should taste the same. Help yourself, ladies.” Roberta put the platter down and watched her grandson take a bite.
    “Mmmm. Heaven. Just like always. You still make the best macaroons.”
    I walked over and took two of the cookies, macaroons being a particular favorite. Actually, anything coconut I put at the top of my list. I even used coconut scented shampoo.
    “How’s the history coming, Bradley?” Mrs. Brissart asked her grandson.
    “Fine. I can’t work on it as much as I’d like, but it’s coming along. I’ve come across something very interesting to say the least. I’d like to talk with you about it.”
    “Of course. You’ve got my interest up, but can we talk tonight?” Mrs. Brissart’s normally smiling lips turned into a frown.
    “What’s wrong?” Bradley asked, gently touching his grandmother’s shoulder.
    “Nothing, really, it’s just those two pathetic sisters of mine.”
    “Are they pestering you again? I want