Lies Like Poison

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A nod in the darkness. Then a rustling of clothing as the two of them got dressed. Belle pulled on a soft, fluffy robe. With her hair tousled and her eyeliner smudged, it really would look like she’d woken from a dream. She wasn’t hosting company. Everyone was exactly where they were supposed to be.

After years in foster care, Belladonna was adopted by a rich man, Edwin, whose obsession in keeping her safe and away from the dangers of the world resulted in bolting her windows closes and keeping her away from everything, transforming her castle into a gilded cage Sure, one of them had a hand in procuring the object that ultimately did cause her death, but they did not actually poison her themselves. Who you gonna call?” the man asked, in this jovial tone that made her think he was going to start humming the Ghostbusters theme song. Everything about this was absurd. Belle wanted to tell herself it was a dream, because none of this could be happening, except . . . the rest of the night had been incredibly vivid. Those lips, trailing across her skin. Those hands, warm and familiar. Bright eyes. Mischievous smile. They’d hardly touched over the past few years, and yet, everything was exactly the way it had been the first time they’d held hands. It had such a pretty name,” the man said, catching her eye in the mirror. “You have any guesses, Belladonna?”

Poppy, Lily and Belladonna grew up cherishing imagined fairytales, though their fantasies begin to break apart when they discover their best friend Raven being abused by his stepmother. They’d do anything to help him, and end up planning to murder his stepmom by steeping a flower from each of their names into her tea—belladonna being fatal. The plan is called off last minute, but years later after the four have drifted apart, Raven’s stepmom is found dead next to a note detailing the ‘perfect recipe for murder’ from when they were kids. The strange thing is that only belladonna was found in her drink, and so only Belladonna gets taken to jail. The sudden rekindling of their past forces Poppy, Lily and Raven to uncover what really happened, and who could have framed Belladonna for murder. Everybody knows that in the death of a spouse, the first place to look is at the current husband/wife, any existing lovers, and previous exes. The fact that the police did neither in both cases and went for the immediate arrest of a teenage girl based on a conveniently placed "murder recipe" left at the scene of the crime . . . I mean, you don't get more gullible than that. The neighbors might’ve noticed me sneaking out around two thirty. She flashed a taunting smile. If you’re good at what you do, I’m sure you can drum up some evidence. Who you gonna call? the man asked, in this jovial tone that made her think he was going to start humming the Ghostbusters theme song. Everything about this was absurd. Belle wanted to tell herself it was a dream, because none of this could be happening, except… the rest of the night had been incredibly vivid. Those lips, trailing across her skin. Those hands, warm and familiar. Bright eyes. Mischievous smile. They’d hardly touched over the past few years, and yet everything was exactly the way it had been the first time they’d held hands.

From the unsolved robbery of Raven's biological mother, to the now murder of his step-mother. The police have been a negligible force, entering the story only when the plot requires it to be relevant. Poppy, Lily, and Belladonna would do anything to protect their best friend, Raven. So when they discovered he was suffering abuse at the hands of his stepmother, they came up with a lethal plan to stop her from ever hurting Raven again. But someone got cold feet, the plot faded to a secret of the past, and the group fell apart.He… What? Her eyelids fluttered closed, and behind them she could see soft hands and ebony curls. Bright eyes. Raven’s coming home? You’re under arrest for the murder of Evelyn Holloway. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used— Poppy, Lily, and Belladonna would do anything to protect their best friend, Raven. So when they discovered he was suffering abuse at the hands of his stepmother, they came up with a lethal plan: petals of poppy, belladonna, and lily in her evening tea so she’d never be able to hurt Raven again. But someone got cold feet, the plot faded to a secret of the past, and the group fell apart. Ye—yes,” she said, managing to stumble over one word. Great. That didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation. But she could lie about who’d been tangled in her arms that night. She’d done it before. She’d done it a lot. Just . . . not to the cops.

Her lawyer’s got her clammed up, the detective said, frowning. But her father says they had dinner together later that night, so I’m guessing she cased the joint earlier to make sure Evelyn still drank tea. Taking a shaky breath, she hurried to the first floor. Opened the front door. Blinked up at the officer and said, Hello? Is everything okay?

Table of Contents

It’s, um… it’s me,” she managed, dashing away the tears with her free hand. “Please don’t hang up.” And that is exactly the cherry on top. It's one thing to have unreliable narrators because one of them is the secret killer and you're trying to conceal which one it is. It's quite another to have unreliable narrators but none of them is actually responsible for Evelyn's death. I have never been more gaslit in my life. Unreliable narrators still need to be reliable in how or why they are unreliable. Are they delusional and have a penchant for exaggeration? Are they extremely naive and have a limited way of understanding events that unfold around them? Are they psychologically impaired in some way--psychopaths who are detached from reality? Are they simply just liars by character? This book had all the makings of a great book - childhood friends, a murder, and a mystery. But sadly, it just all fell flat to me. I couldn't relate to any of the characters and everything just felt over dramatic and forced. Killing her would’ve been easy. That spring we made flower garlands. That spring petals were strewn across her kitchen table, where she drank her tea. If we dropped a petal of belladonna, a petal of poppy, and a petal of lily into that cup, we’d never really know which one of us killed her.

I received this book from NetGalley in exchange of an honest review. Thank you, Simon and Schuster Children's Publishing and Margaret K. McElderry Books, for the chance to read Lies like Poison. Detective Medina sighed. So no one saw you entering the Drake residence? No one can corroborate your story?So you could recommend psychiatric help for me, too? Ship me off to a mental hospital on the other side of the country? PDF / EPUB File Name: Lies_Like_Poison_-_Chelsea_Pitcher.pdf, Lies_Like_Poison_-_Chelsea_Pitcher.epub Ye-yes, she said, managing to stumble over one word. Great. That didn’t bode well for the rest of the conversation. But she could lie about who’d been tangled in her arms that night. She’d gotten very good at keeping secrets. Just… not from the cops. She sat at the police station, stuffed into a plastic chair, waiting for Detective Frank Medina to return from the field. She’d been there since eight in the morning. When he finally strode through the doors, well after noon, he took one look at her and sighed. Miss McClain.