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even closer to Lake Erie maybe, but the closest seafood restaurant is Arthur Treacher’s in Canton. My money is on peanuts. It’s common and deadly. I should know soon. I will take a simple test back in my lab, but you might know even more quickly. Ask her family. Someone who would have an allergy this extreme would know about it. I wager she’s been avoiding peanuts since she was a child.”
    Wearing gloves, the sheriff gingerly looked through Wanda’s large floral purse. “Where’s her EpiPen then, if she knew she had such a severe allergy, wouldn’t she have one?”
    “I would think so,” the coroner said.
    Mitchell frowned. “And do you think her allergic reaction was the result of foul play?”
    My legs started to ache from the squatting beside the station wagon, but I didn’t want to move now. We were just getting to the good part.
    “That’s the harder part to determine. Peanuts and peanut oil are in a lot of foods that people eat every day. It doesn’t have to be Skippy peanut butter to have peanuts in it. For some people it only takes a few drops of peanut oil for them to have a reaction like this. She was holding the fry pie from the bakery. I bet that’s your culprit.”
    “But it was blueberry.”
    “The Millers’ bakery makes peanut butter cookies and pies too. This could be a case of accidental cross contamination.”
    What a terrible way to die. I hadn’t particularly cared for Wanda, but no one deserved that. After the horror of the situation fell away, I felt my hopes rise.
Then it wasn’t murder, just a horrible accident.
    “If it was an accident, then maybe the Millers won’t be held accountable for her death, but that will be up to the D.A. You head back to the morgue to first prove the allergy originated from the fry pie.”
    I chewed on the inside of my lip as I remembered the nut-free sign on Rachel’s table, which she had made a point of showing Wanda. Wanda must have been allergic to nuts. Why would she have asked Rachel if there were any in the fry pie otherwise? In that case, it would look like murder.
    I heard a crack like a knee or an elbow. “Ooph!” the coroner said. “I’m getting too old for this line of work, Mitchell.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous, Art. You’re a spring chicken.”
    The coroner snorted. “One in a rotisserie oven. I should know about the allergy this afternoon, but I will have a full report for you by Friday.”
    Today was Wednesday. There wouldn’t be an official verdict on Wanda’s death for two days. I suspected Mitchell would treat this like a murder until he heard otherwise from the coroner, and after overhearing this conversation, I knew his suspicions were squarely on the Millers.
    As if he read my mind, the sheriff said, “I need to talk to the Millers again.”
    I ducked and shuffled backward away from the station wagon and scurried back to the tent.
    I just made it back when I saw Mitchell walking across the grounds from the canning shed.
    Mattie, who was helping Rachel and Aaron pack up their booth, examined my face. “Angie, what is wrong? You are out of breath.”
    I just shook my head as the sheriff appeared at the tent’s opening.
    “Stop,” Mitchell said as he strode into the tent.
    Mattie dropped the plate of cookies that she held. Several maple sugar cookies bounced onto the ground.
    “Please leave all of your treats here.”
    “B-but why?” Rachel asked.
    “We need them for evidence,” the sheriff said.
    “Wanda didn’t die anywhere close to Rachel’s table,” I argued.
    “This is not a mere suggestion. We are taking all of this into evidence,” the sheriff said as a deputy stepped inside the tent.
    Rachel’s face crumbled. “
Ya
, of course, we will do whatever you ask of us. We are so sorry about Wanda. Her poor family . . .” Her voice broke.
    The sheriff’s expression softened. “I only want the crime lab to test your baked goods.” He waved his deputy over. “Deputy Mack will assist you in packing