Sherlock said, “With your permission, Venus, another team will arrive later to pick up the ingredients from what you ate last night and to go through the kitchen and pantry. If there’s anything questionable there, they’ll find it.”

Venus laughed. “I can only imagine the look on Mr. Paul’s face.”

Savich pictured Mr. Paul’s aesthete’s face, his mouth pinched, and a manic gleam in his black eyes. “It can’t be helped. From now on I’d like all your meals to be prepared outside the house and delivered here until we get a better handle on this. Isabel can do the ordering. Don’t eat anything except what’s delivered, all right? I don’t want anyone in the house involved with that, and that has to include Veronica. She’s not here because you haven’t spoken to her about this, correct?”

Venus looked both miserable and angry. “No, I’ve only spoken to you. I sent her out to run some errands for me.”

Savich said matter-of-factly, “I think we should call Isabel in now, only Isabel, no one else. I’m sure you realize, Venus, if Sherlock and I are going to be of help to you and keep you safe, we can’t keep what we’re doing a secret from your family. If the tests show any kind of poison, we’ll need to have you examined to make sure you’re all right, and then we’ll need to talk to your family, all of them.”

“I’m sure my family will want to help, at least that is my profound wish.”

* * *

Venus called in Isabel and recounted the story she’d told Savich and Sherlock. Isabel was speechless at first, then furious that such a thing might be possible in the Rasmussen household. “Isabel, we’re not even certain yet of any of this, you understand,” Venus said. “And please keep this discreetly held.”

Isabel nodded, her eyes brimming with tears.

“It will be all right,” Venus said, and hugged her close. “You and I have dealt with many things in our years together, we’ll manage this as well. Don’t worry.”

Isabel pulled back to look at Venus. “Of course I’ll worry! What’s happening, it’s not right. It’s evil. But it can’t be one of the family, oh no.”

Savich said, “Yes, it is evil, Isabel. We’re here to find out if it’s true and then we will all take care of it. Now that you know, order in Venus’s meals. And let’s begin with lunch.”

Venus patted Isabel’s shoulder. “I’m in the mood for some nice chicken consommé, crème brûlée, and a Caesar salad from L’Etoile. Dillon and Sherlock, will you please stay for lunch?”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said. “It will give us more time to talk while we wait for your lunch to arrive.”

“Isabel, if you would make the order, then tell Mr. Paul we have two guests for lunch, one of them a vegetarian. Please have Mr. Paul place anything left from our dinner last evening in cartons, to be tested.”

Isabel nodded and said to Savich and Sherlock, “Mr. Minendo at L’Etoile is very fond of Ms. Rasmussen. I will call him right now with her lunch order. He will oversee the preparation himself.” She looked from Venus back to them. “No one will touch her food.” Then she left the living room.

Savich said, “Venus, you were telling me about the third time, last night, that you were ill, but you didn’t give me details. Let’s go over that now.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t call for help. I waited it out, then decided it was time to help myself. I looked up symptoms of poisoning on the Internet. It was easy enough to find. Arsenic can cause every one of my symptoms.” She paused a moment, looked at them. “Dillon, Sherlock, let me say how grateful I am that you believed me without hesitation. I appreciate that.”

Savich said simply, “You are the most down-to-earth person I know, Venus, not to mention the smartest. Now, this third time, the symptoms were really bad.”

“Yes, but I gritted my teeth and endured. Maybe I should have gone to the ER, but I decided if the media got hold of that, it wouldn’t be good for the company, or my family.”

Sherlock said, “Venus, you’re very powerful, you’ve influenced many lives over the years. I’d say it’s impossible for you not to have made some enemies. Does anyone stick out in your mind, anyone who has personal reasons, or who might profit a great deal from your death?”

Venus smoothed her pale veined hands over her black silk trousers, ran her tongue over her lips. “As for personal reasons, I certainly hope not. As for financial gain, I could prepare a list. In business one tries to become a resource and a partner, more valuable alive than dead. Ah, there is Ellis Vaughn, a senior accountant I had to fire three months ago. My COO showed me proof he was embezzling from us. I let him go rather than call in the police, mostly because I knew his wife and three kids, and I liked them. But there are always people like that in one’s life. His trying to get revenge doesn’t make sense to me. And how would an accountant have gotten to my food, anyway?” She swallowed, looked away. “I’ve told you, only Guthrie and Alexander were with me each time.”

They saw tears swimming in her eyes. “It’s a horrible thing to imagine, Dillon. One of my own flesh and blood. I don’t want to believe it, even now, even with last night being so bad.”

“Make the list, Venus. We’ll go over it later. Let’s talk about Alexander. Have you noticed anything unusual in his life lately? Some change in his mood? Anything at all?”

“I’m sure you know Alexander can be a prick—don’t look shocked, you two. Even old ladies know how to lay something obvious out in modern language. He’s embarrassed me more than once with his sense of entitlement, acting like some kind of crown prince. I recall he was rude to you the last time we met at the art museum benefit. Implied it was somehow low class of you to spend your life dealing with criminals. Of course, he’d never say anything outright against you to my face, but I apologize for that. He’s my grandson, but—”

Sherlock leaned forward and laid her hand over Venus’s arm. “With Alexander, there’s always a but. Has anything changed in your relationship with him, Venus?”

Venus smiled at Sherlock. “I knew Dillon had hit the jackpot the very first time I met you. No, Alexander is still very much himself. I’d hoped all the hurly-burly competition of working in a top law firm would teach him to think a little less highly of himself. He’s always been sharp as a tack, but he’s still got a lot to learn about leadership, about how to deal with people if you want them to work hard for you. I’m finding teaching him that slow going.” She shrugged. “Anyway, though I’ve never told him outright, I assume he knows I have picked him to take over for me when I retire or pass on to the hereafter. Not either of my children—not Guthrie or Hildi. Hildi, because life is all about her painting. I had hopes for Guthrie, but after his wife died he lost interest in everything, including his life. Although Glynis is possibly the brightest of all of them, she has no interest, no ambition. I pray that will change. I think her free-spirited mother, Hildi, gave her too little structure when she was growing up. And of course she grew up without a father.