Chapter 16: Subject Coughed

Tilda's POV

The first time I watched myself poison my grandmother, I noticed the lighting was flattering.

It played on a projector screen at the Lakeshore Seniors Fund luncheon, over ninety plates of chicken.

In the clip, I stood at Hattie's stove with a pink packet in my hand.

I tore it open and stirred a mug.

Hattie took a sip, coughed, gripped her chest and sat down hard.

The picture froze on her face.

"I received this on Monday from a friend of the family," Marguerite said from the podium.

"I have already called Adult Protective Services."

Ninety donors turned to look at me.

A man at the next table slowly moved his dessert fork out of my reach.

Posy sat at the head table in yellow, dabbing her eyes with a napkin.

"I didn't want to believe it," she said. "I only wanted her to be safe."

I stood up and took my clipboard out of my bag.

"Is that a statement?" Marguerite said.

"It's a log. Thursday, three fifty-eight p.m., Ellerby kitchen."

"One packet of sweetener, pink. The mug was the one with the chipped handle."

"Convenient."

"Subject coughed because I told her the toaster was a hazard with a lifestyle."

Somebody at the back made a noise that might have been a laugh.

"I have the packets," I said. "Hattie buys the pink ones in a box of two hundred. She's very loyal."

"A box proves nothing," Marguerite said.

"The angle does."

I walked up to the screen and pointed.

"The camera is by the hall coat pegs, about shoulder height, looking down the kitchen."

"I keep a floor plan. Nobody films from there."

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