Smoked (The Alex Harris Mystery Series) (3 page)

Marla put the papers on the table and grabbed another towel. “Here. Let me rinse that cup out for you and I’ll get you another one.”

It wasn’t like me to feel helpless but I accepted her offer and sat down on one of the chairs surrounding the small table. “Thanks, Marla. I don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning.”

“Didn’t sleep well?” Marla asked while she put more water in the kettle and returned it to the stove.

I’m not much of a micro-manager, but I have pounded the fact that boiled water makes a better cup than a microwave-zapped cup of water does into everyone who works at Always Prepared. “I guess I didn’t. A neighbor stopped by last night and, well, her mother just died. We talked a while and it left me feeling sad.”

Marla took the seat next to me and reached over and patted my hand. Marla Scottsman was a black woman with the loveliest skin I had ever seen. It was totally devoid of lines despite the fact she was in her fifties and her hand against mine was very soft. I would have to find out what kind of lotion she used. Today she wore a rich orange cardigan twin set and it set off her skin tone perfectly. Her hair was pulled back into some sort of bun but not old-fashioned looking and she always had on some of the nicest earrings, which she told me she bought at Chico’s when they had a good sale.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Always sad when someone dies. Was she an old woman?”

“No, Marla, she wasn’t. That’s the hard part. She was probably in her late fifties. And she died of some kind of allergic reaction. I found her. Well, I saw her from my kitchen window and it looked like she was in some kind of trouble so I called 911 and rushed out to her but I didn’t know what to do. I don’t know CPR and I just stayed with her until the paramedics showed up. I did nothing. I thought she was having a heart attack but it was anaphylactic shock, they think. Her daughter told me she had some of those allergy pens in the kitchen but how was I suppose to know that?”

“You wouldn’t know that. No one would. Alex, you did what anyone else would have done and it seems it was just her time to go.”

This was another reason Marla fit in perfectly with us. She had a sense of calm about her and a belief that things followed their natural course. Sam and Millie could get riled up sometimes and Marla was a soothing balm. Okay, so I could be a bit dramatic at times as well, but really, Sam was the drama queen around here.

The water boiled in the kettle and I got up to pour it into my mug. “Thanks, Marla. I really didn’t know Maria Kravec very well, but she was a neighbor and seemed like a nice woman.

Marla turned in her seat. “Maria Kravec?
The
Maria Kravec? You’re neighbors with Maria Kravec!”

Marla was bordering on hysteria. Who was this woman? Wasn’t I just saying what a soothing balm she was? More like a ticking bomb.

“Marla, do you know her?”

“Know her? No.” Marla shook her head quickly causing the earrings to slap the sides of her face. “I know
of
her, Alex. Know of her. I read her blog religiously and of course I make all of her recipes.”

I was just about to ask what the heck she was talking about when the phone rang and Marla ran to answer it.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions. My good intention was to find out about Maria Kravec’s blog, but like with most plans things went awry at some point mid morning.

When you have your own business, there are a lot of things to worry about, and one of our biggest concerns was always the competition. Luckily, we had been in business for quite a while and had an excellent reputation. Plus, we constantly updated our services to correspond to industry demands, but still. The competitor was always circling, like a shark, waiting to take a bite out of our client base whenever possible.

Several months back, we had raised our rates slightly. This was the first increase we had for several years, but for some it was just too much and they jumped ship. The circling shark this time was a firm called We’re Just Your Type and they had snatched up a few of the big fish we had been representing. Word on the street, okay, a rumor that Millie heard from a friend of a friend and had conveyed to us, was that We’re Just Your Type had failed to deliver on more than one occasion and this morning was just one of those times.

We received a call from a very frantic former client who needed three temps by nine. I would love to take the credit but the truth is Millie knows where all of our best temps are at any given moment and she coordinated the troops like General Eisenhower on D-Day, getting our people in place well before the deadline. Said client assured us his momentary lapse in judgment was a thing of the past and he was now back on our books.

After a few more calls to a couple more of our former clients, we learned this kind of service, or lack thereof, was standard operating procedure for We’re Just Your Type. It seemed like there just wasn’t much of a work ethic out there anymore and luckily for us, that was our calling card. We never failed to cater to our clients’ needs and hopefully they would realize even a slight increase in rates was well worth it for excellent service.

So the point of all this is I never had a chance to go online and check out Maria Kravec’s blog. And my thought that I could take a peek at lunch went unfulfilled as well when Millie, Sam, and Marla decided lunch in my office would be fun. So here it was, almost five. My hand, gripping the mouse, was just about to click on
Google
when there was a knock on my door.

“Yes,” I called out, probably a bit harsher than I should have.

The door opened and Millie poked her head inside. “There’s someone here to see you. Are you just about to leave?”

“No. It’s okay.” I closed out my browser and asked Millie to show my guest in.

“Hi, Alex. Sorry to barge in but I need to talk with you about something and I also wanted to give you back your plate.”

For a moment I had no idea who the young woman standing in my office was and then it hit me. Ellery. She had her naturally curly hair down and was wearing makeup. She was a very pretty girl last night while she shoveled my leftovers into her mouth, but today, quite frankly she was stunning.

“Oh, gosh, Ellery. Come in. I’m sorry. I was busy with—never mind. Please have a seat.”

Millie silently closed the door and left us alone.

Ellery placed my dinner plate on the desk, sat back in her chair and then leaned forward again, moved the plate aside and rested her arms on the desk. She looked at me and her eyes began to water. “They took my dad in.”

“Took your dad in? Who? The police? Not the police?” I was speechless. Why hadn’t John called to tell me? Oh, wait, I wasn’t a cop. That might have had something to do with his reluctance to call and tell me everything going on at the police station.

Ellery’s head rested on her arms. I went around the desk and pulled up the other chair.

“Ellery? What happened? Hold on. Let me get you something to drink. Tea?”

Ellery shook her head. I went into the kitchen and started to fill the kettle but instead filled a mug and popped it into the microwave. Hopefully, she wasn’t a tea aficionado and wouldn’t notice the difference. I grabbed a glass of water for myself and returned to my office.

I handed her the cup of tea. “Here. Be careful. It’s very hot.”

Ellery lifted her head and wiped her eyes on a tissue she pulled from a box on my desk, which just happened to be next to my very large glass jar of M&M’s. Did I mention I have an addiction to M&M’s? I try to keep some within reach at all times.

“Can I have some?”

“Of course.” I took the lid off and pushed the jar closer to her. Truth was she could have as many as she liked. They were a new flavor, pumpkin spice, and I wasn’t sure about them yet.

She picked up a scoop I kept in the jar and heaved out an amount equal to one of those dollar bags you pick up at the checkout counter at the store. She opened up her tissue and dumped them onto it and then picked up the mug and cradled it between her hands.

After a few moments, she took a couple of candies, popped them into her mouth and said, “They arrested my dad. For murder. Of my mother.”

Ellery talked quickly. I had noticed it the night before. Not all the time, but she did now and it totally caught me off guard because I wasn’t sure I had heard correctly.

I shook my head. “Wait. What? Why? I don’t understand. How could your father, who was in Boston, I believe, kill your mother, who died of anaphylactic shock?”

Ellery reached for another tissue, wiped a tear from her cheek and looked at me. “They found a lot. I mean
a lot
of poison ivy in the fire under the burned leaves.”

“I thought your mother was allergic to poison ivy. Isn’t that what you told me last night?”

“Exactly.” Ellery tossed a handful of M&M’s into her mouth.

I reached for the jar and helped myself to quite a handful. If nothing else, I needed to get rid of them so I could fill up the jar with the good ones. “So the police think your dad…what…put the poison ivy under the leaves? But why? She didn’t touch them, did she? I don’t understand.”

“The smoke. As the ivy burned the urushiol oil, I think I’m saying it right, got into her lungs. She went into shock. Then she died.”

“Urushiol oil?” I asked.

“It’s the stuff in the ivy that makes you itch if you touch it.”

“But why do the police think it was murder? Couldn’t the ivy have been raked up with the leaves? Maybe it was an unfortunate accident,” I said thinking a certain police detective had a lot of explaining to do when he got home.

“My mother raked the leaves herself. She would have never put poison ivy in that pile. My father goes out several times a year and gets rid of any plants he finds. Birds like to eat the fruit and then they drop seeds which germinate easily. It’s an ongoing problem but my father is diligent.”

“What does your father do with all the plants he finds?” I realized my blunder and reached out to Ellery. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse your father of anything.”

“No, no. It’s okay. That’s good. That’s what I want.”

“You want me to accuse your father?”

“I’ll get to that later. Now I need to tell you as much as I can. Do you have time?”

By now it had to be after five. Not that I had anywhere to go. And if John had arrested Mr. Kravec, I had a feeling he wouldn’t be rushing home for dinner. I turned to Ellery.

“Let me make us a proper cup of tea and I’m sure I have some snacks in our refrigerator. I’ll be right back.”

I went to the kitchen and didn’t hear any sounds. Sam and Millie must have left a while ago and Marla left before three. I fixed two cups of tea using the kettle this time and pulled a package of
Ritz
crackers out of the cupboard. I had a couple packages of herb-encrusted goat cheese and some salami in the refrigerator, which I placed on a tray. I grabbed a handful of napkins and returned to my office.

Ellery’s eyes lit up at the sight of the food and I handed her a knife for the cheese.

“This is great,” she sighed. After she ate two cheese-laden crackers she settled back in her chair. “Okay. First I want to assure you I can pay. I have a great job. Did I tell you I’m a civil engineer? I work for a firm in Stamford. I live there too, in one of the high rise apartment buildings. So money’s not a problem. Plus, I’m an only child, so I’ve been spoiled. You know, birthdays and stuff, and I’m a good saver and investor.”

Okay. The girl had a good job. I had no idea why she wanted to assure me of this fact, but as I got to eat crackers and salami while she talked, I figure, hey, I’ll listen.

“My father comes from a big family. Nine children. Parents from the Ukraine. Loud. Lively bunch,” she said in her rapid-fire way. “My mother? Quiet family. One brother. Played violin. Kept to himself. You see. My parents were polar opposites. My father is charming and likes to stray. Many times. Can’t help himself. Mom was a literature professor. Boring, right?”

I kept nodding, not sure what else to say. I reached for a couple slices of salami and another piece of cheese while Ellery continued.

“So they got married. Loved each other. Really. But my dad just likes the ladies. Mom knew. Didn’t really care as long as he came home at night. Then he stopped coming home so much.”

“What did your mother do then?” I asked.

“She got her revenge the best way she knew how.”

“She found someone too?” This was getting good. Geesh. I really needed to get out and see what my neighbors were up to.

Ellery waved her hand. “No. Not mom’s style. No. She hit him where it hurt.”

“She kicked his…private parts?”

“My father’s a butcher.”

“Yes, I know. A very good one.”

“Right. Reputation is everything to him. He supplies meat for all the top restaurants, hotels, etc. So Mom decided to become vegan.”

“Okay,” I said, not quite sure why this would be so upsetting to Mr. Kravec. Clearly he wasn’t charging his wife for any meat he brought home so how would this hurt his business or reputation.

“At first it was just a slap in his face, you know, refusing to let him bring anything home from the shop. But he paid no attention to her. Made bacon in the morning. In front of her. She
loves
bacon. So then she started using her blog to attack the meat industry. The Vegan View. She became quite radical about it. Blogs on how meat is produced, blogs on the dangers of eating meat. And then references to a certain butcher shop without naming names. It was all out war between them.”

“I had no idea. And I didn’t know your mother was a vegan.” I actually didn’t know a lot about veganism. Vegetarian, okay, but I think vegans took it one step further. A very big step.

“My mother started this business, selling vegan products. And she writes a blog and posts recipes and stuff. She wasn’t exactly a vegan herself but she felt this was a growing trend with a lot of potential and also wanted to start incorporating a better diet into her own routine. But in the last month or so she became fanatical about it.”