The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) (10 page)

I went back into the house, tore open four jumbo bags of candy, and filled a large wooden bowl with all of my favorite candy bars.

Between answering the door to dole out candy to the little ghosts, goblins, space aliens, and princesses of the neighborhood, I sat down with a pot of tea at the kitchen table to read the evening newspaper,
The Sudbury Falls Tribune
. Professor Walters’ drowning was the headline:

As ruled by Dr. Michael Anders, the County Coroner of Sudbury Falls, Professor Sherman Walters’ official cause of death is drowning. His death was ruled accidental. Foul play is not suspected. Preliminary toxicology tests have found no drugs in his system. Walters died ten to twelve hours prior to his body being discovered Sunday morning by three women on their morning walk. The time of death is put approximately at midnight.”

“What?” I said. I set my teacup down so hard on the table that some of the tea splashed out onto the newspaper. No suspicion of foul play? How could Dr. Anders even have finished an autopsy in time for tonight’s paper? He was always incredibly slow whenever I worked with him at the free clinic. How thorough was he? Did he feel rushed to make the deadline for tonight's paper? Something irregular must have shown up. Didn't anyone find it suspicious that the professor would have been down by the river late Saturday night? Where was his wife? There should be so many questions. Why hadn’t they been asked? The newspaper made everything sound so final. The people in town would accept the findings reported in the article and not give it another thought.

I made up my mind right then and there. I would have to investigate so that justice would be served. I had to. The police were involved in the murder. I wasn't one to sit back and ignore what I knew was no mere accident but a murder—a crime I was certain many in town wanted to go unsolved. Someone had to act, and it was going to be me.

Later in the evening after a half hour of relative quiet, half-watching
The House on Haunted Hill
to try and calm myself down—no movie could be scarier than what was happening in Sudbury Falls—the doorbell rang.

“Trrrick or ttrreat!” Jeff and Rebecca's daughter, Angie, stood at the door with two of her friends. She had long white blunt bangs with the rest of her jet black hair tied back into a ponytail. She wore a high-collared metallic gold floor-length gown covered in sequins. Long black streaks were painted under her heavily lined eyes. The girls looked too old to be out trick-or-treating, but, I suppose I had still gone out at their age.

“Hello, girls.”

“Hello, Mrs. Driscoll. I'm Lady Gaga. Meet my friends, Fergie and Beyoncé.” Both friends giggled at the introduction.

“Nice to meet both of you, Fergie, Beyoncé. Love your costumes. Very scary, Lady Gaga.” Fergie, with long brown curls, had on a fiery red dress with black knee-high boots. Beyoncé, with her caramel colored curls, had lots of bronzer on her face and wore a clinging white dress and strappy sandals. They looked...well...not their age.

“Have you girls been up to any mischief tonight?”

“No,” they all said at the same time, giggling. Let the girls have their secrets.

“I liked your Tinker Bell costume, Mrs. Driscoll,” Angie said.

“Thank you. When…where did you see me?”

“The Halloween Ball. My mom helped cater the party.”

“They were running out of food, and the three of us helped bring the stuff over,” Fergie said.

“The food was exceptional,” I said. “Your mom did a great job. Plenty to eat.”

“And plenty to drink, all right,” Beyoncé added. They all laughed.

I thought they might be referring to Elizabeth, but I smiled with polite incomprehension and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Some drunk guy had to be carried down the alley that night behind the stores not far from the party,” Fergie said.

“We all saw them,” Angie said.

“Yeah,” Beyoncé said, still laughing. All of a sudden she looked sheepish, realizing she was talking to an adult and not joking around with friends. “It wasn’t that funny.”

“By the vac—the old furniture store a few doors down from the patisserie?” I asked.

They all bobbed their heads in unison.

“Yeah, the alley. He was dragged by two guys, one looked drunk himself,” Angie said. They giggled some more. “He stumbled all over. I suppose he could have just had a bad limp.”

“They didn't see you, did they?” I asked with some trepidation.

All three heads shook.

“The guy looked like our teacher. Wouldn't you say? He limps sometimes,” Beyoncé said.

“What are you talking about?” Fergie asked. “It looked more like the old guy from the hardware store.”

“Our teacher had a sprained ankle a couple of months back. He doesn't limp anymore,” Angie added. “Besides, it was so dark, it could have been anyone.”

I interrupted this little argument to press for more information. “Did you see where they dragged this man?”

“They turned in a few doors down. I heard some racket, and then they disappeared somewhere,” Angie said.

“Was it around the patisserie?”

“Dunno. It could have been,” Beyoncé said. “The drunk guy wore a light brown coat like my Dad's. The one he had on when he picked us up from the movies last week.”

“Yeah, that was a funny movie!”

I tried not to seem too anxious, but I didn’t want to wade through more insipid conversation. “Do you remember what the other men were wearing? Were they in costumes?”

“It was kinda dark but one wore a long white costume. That's how we knew they came from the party,” Angie said.

Beyoncé shifted restlessly from foot to foot by this point, and Fergie gave Angie’s arm a soft nudge.

“We’d better get going, Mrs. Driscoll,” Angie said.

I put a few candy bars in each of their bags. “Well, have fun tonight, girls. And be safe.”

“Thanks. Happy Halloween!” they yelled behind them as they hurried down the steps.

I closed the door. I wondered if they saw the professor being moved from the vacant store to some other building. It stood to reason that he would have been moved in case the intruder came back with other people or the police. It made perfect sense. But where did they take him close by that would be safe from discovery? I'd have to take a look around the area to see if I could find any clues.

Just about nine o'clock, I went outside and blew out the candles in the Jack-O'-Lanterns. I thought I heard a howling. Either there were werewolves in the neighborhood, or Ted had too much to drink. I faintly heard a woman laugh from somewhere. Was that Elizabeth? Did Ted invite
her
to his coffin?

Tuesday, November 1

This morning I called Deirdre and Elizabeth to let them know I wouldn’t be walking. I decided to go over to give the professor's wife my condolences and also to learn more about her husband. First, I walked over to Marissa’s to pick up a sour cream coffee cake I had ordered earlier. A few remains of smashed pumpkins lay in mournful heaps on the streets. Those kids had been busy disposing of the neighborhood Jack-O'-Lanterns as the holiday night came to a close.

I made my way up the brick pathway to the house where the late professor had lived with his wife, gave the doorbell a ring, and waited with the coffee cake in hand, going over what I would say. An attractive but red-eyed woman answered the door after some time.

“Hello, Mrs. Walters. My name is Kay Driscoll. I wanted to come by to tell you how sorry my husband and I are for your loss. We live a few blocks down on Boxelder. I brought this for you.” I handed her the coffee cake.

Mrs. Walters smiled as her eyes moistened. “Thank you. How thoughtful. Please come in. Call me Mary Ann.”

“I’m so sorry we have to meet under these circumstances,” I said as I stepped into the foyer and entered their bright living room. Two of the walls consisted of window panes, while a floor-to-ceiling bookcase occupied another wall. Bordered by shelves full of academic tomes, a doorway led into another room. The bleached oak floor creaked as I followed Mary Ann over to a linen-colored sofa. She put the coffee cake down on a table. I heard clanging noises coming from what must have been the kitchen, through the portal in the bookcase.

We sat in silence for a few seconds. I cleared my throat and trained my eyes on the side of Mary Ann's face. “My friends and I are the ones who discovered your husband's body.”

She looked up into my eyes, and then looked away again. She crossed her legs. “You had a scare also, finding my husband. Isn't it like a bad dream?” Her voice wavered.

“Yes, it's very sad. Were you home when this happened?” I shifted my weight on the sofa so I could turn more toward her. I noticed she had beautiful posture, although somewhat stiff. Her distinguished silver hair was short, the contrast with her youthful face interesting. She wore a blue cashmere sweater that matched the color of her eyes and a charcoal wool straight skirt that landed just above her knee. There were several crumpled tissues sticking out from under a throw pillow on the sofa.

“No, I left Friday morning to visit my parents for the weekend.” She looked down at her hands and massaged them. “They live in Milwaukee.” She hesitated. “I got there early afternoon.”

“How did you find out?”

“The police came by looking for me. My neighbors told them where I was and how to reach me.” Mary Ann's eyes and voice showed the signs of tears making their way to the surface. “On Sunday, I received a call from the police with the dreadful news of Sherman's death.”

“That must have been a terrible shock, I'm sorry.” We sat in silence for a few moments. “Did you speak to your husband during the weekend?”

“Yes, I called him Friday afternoon to let him know I had arrived. He was going to have a busy afternoon at school and had arranged a meeting that evening about the book he was writing. I called him again Saturday to see how everything had gone, but he didn't answer.

“So you hadn't spoken to him since Friday?”

“I figured he must be outside cutting the grass since he planned on cutting it one last time for the year. I should have kept trying.” A tear rolled down her cheek, all the while she kept smiling to mask the pain. For as she spoke, I saw the agony in her eyes. I reached out and took her hand. A knot was growing in my stomach. It was the guilt of knowing what I knew about Sherman's death, which I wasn't prepared to tell his wife. I had a lot more facts to uncover before I could reveal the crime to her.

An older woman came into the room, smiling in an expression that matched Mary Ann's. Introductions and sympathies were given. Mary Ann wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Mother, look at the beautiful coffee cake Kay brought. Would you mind making a pot of coffee and slicing this up?”

“Looks delicious,” said Mary Ann's mother with a note of cheerfulness in her voice. She gave me a grateful look as she walked back into the kitchen with the cake in her hands.

Mary Ann settled back into the sofa. “It's odd that Sherman would be out walking by the river Saturday night. It’s such an isolated area, and there isn't any lighting. Plus it was so late. Midnight? Sometimes we don't manage to stay up to finish the ten o’clock news. I don't understand. I don't understand any of it.” She paused as if not sure she could trust me to continue.

“Go ahead,” I said.

“I went to the police station to explain Sherman would never be out that late.”

“What did they say?” I leaned in.

“He said perhaps Sherman wasn’t following his regular routine with his wife out of town.”

“Who did you talk to?” I figured I knew the answer.

“Bill Murphy. He's Deputy Chief.”

“Yes, I know Bill Murphy.” So that was the concocted story Bill Murphy, the man who had played a hand in murdering her husband, had given her. I studied Mary Ann's face a moment. “You sound like you are questioning what happened. The newspaper reported that the police don't suspect foul play.”

“I know, but I still wanted answers. After calling numerous times, I got through to the coroner. He said the autopsy revealed nothing out of the ordinary.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “I shouldn’t bother you with any of this. You had your own scare, finding my husband’s body, and all.”

“No, no, please, continue.”

“The lab tests indicated nothing abnormal other than the fact he had fluid in his lungs, showing he drowned. Sherman did have high blood pressure, being so heavy. This is why I started walking with him everyday. But he never complained of being dizzy or unstable, nothing that would send him falling down the embankment and into the river.”

“Had anything unusual happened to your husband as of late? You mentioned his meeting someone about a book he was writing. Did he say who? What was the book about?”

Mary Ann leaned forward, uncrossing her legs. She seemed more comfortable about sharing what she knew with me now.

“He didn’t say who he was meeting. He was always meeting with someone about the book. I stopped asking a long time ago. The book was about the ginseng crops in the area. Sherman did say some lab findings from the crops were coming back as irregular, and that he was onto something big. About a month ago some of the offices were broken into at the college, including Sherman’s. The rooms were ransacked and the computers stolen. Sherman had his backed up. Some of the professors didn’t have the foresight to do that and lost all of their data for their projects. A prank of some sort, I thought.”