The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) (14 page)

“Oh, right. I have something going with Kay and Deirdre in the morning. I'll give you a call when I get home, and then we can leave.”

Rebecca and I sat on the sofa. Deirdre, sitting on one armchair, looked stunning as usual, and James sat next to her on the other armchair. James was a guidance counselor at the high school and a friend of John's. I couldn't guess what the attraction of the book club was for James. The members took turns choosing the books, and most of the books selected were cozy mysteries. James was quite critical of these. His choices involved more graphic violence that I found distasteful to read. At those book meetings there was never a lack of talking, even though the women didn't say much. James loved to hear the sound of his own voice.

“Rebecca, since you chose this month’s book, why don’t you start,” Elizabeth said. The discussions were meant to be kept light. Most times we mentioned what we liked or didn’t like about the book, which characters we thought were believable or we could relate to, and whether justice was served at the end of the book, things like that. James did his best to shatter the carefree mood, but not until he allowed the others to share their views.

“Okay. I chose
Catering to Death
by Sherrie Windsor for obvious reasons. You all know I have a catering business, and I love culinary mysteries, especially British ones. Let me just say, can Sherrie Windsor ever write. The book had such vitality. Every word she wrote was chosen with care.”

This was the kind of statement I knew James would just love. I looked over at him. He rolled his eyes at me. I smiled at him.

“I agree with you, Rebecca,” I said. “I enjoyed this book. It was a fun, fast read. I loved Sandra, the caterer. Her sense of humor was effective, and she had an interesting cast of quirky characters parading through the story that added spice to the humor.” I was aware my comment would get a reaction out of James. In fact, I delighted in that awareness.

“So what does everyone else think?” Elizabeth asked.

All eyes were on James, who looked ready to launch into a tirade the way he was leaning forward in his chair. This was the part, however obnoxious it might be, that always livened up the book club meetings.

“As far as I am concerned, being a fast read as Kay mentioned was its only redeeming value. It was all fluff, and Sandra Drew was the most ludicrous, irritating character,” James said, laughing in his usual tactless manner.

“James, lighten up!” Elizabeth said. “My, aren’t you the cheerful pessimist! Don't you see Sandra’s tendencies to disregard common sense at times is part of what I think endears her to the reader. She takes some foolish chances in the story, but they all pay off for her.”

“Let me finish,” James said. “When Sandra caters the mayor’s birthday party, and the mayor's poisoned at the dinner, he's foaming at the mouth from hemlock, and Sandra doesn’t even question the coroner’s toxicology report that everything is fine and dandy. It doesn’t matter that the coroner attends the dinner and is brother-in-law to the victim who abused his sister. Sandra doesn’t even find him suspect from the beginning? How absurd!” He chuckled.

Elizabeth, Deirdre, and I looked at each other with our mouths half open. I had finished this book a couple of weeks ago and had forgotten about this element of the plot.

“Not everyone in a mystery book has to be a genius forensic scientist,” Rebecca said.

“I wouldn’t go as far as James has in his description,” John said, “but I must confess to a certain pleasure in seeing what foolishness would appear chapter after chapter. The other cozies we have read have been much better than this one. James, to add to what you were saying about Sandra not questioning the coroner, the local lab sent out the toxicology report as being negative, so the technician there must have been involved also.”

“Well, Sherrie Windsor is no Agatha Christie,” Elizabeth said, “but she is an engaging storyteller.”

John smiled at Elizabeth with besotted eyes, hanging on her every word. Elizabeth glanced at John, a little smile played on her lips. Oh yes, Elizabeth
knew
John was interested in her.

“No author could compare to Agatha Christie according to you, Elizabeth,” James said, interrupting the nonverbal communication going on between Elizabeth and John.

“The air in this room is so negative. James, you aren't being open to all of the nice twists and turns in the story,” Deirdre said. “The setting, the way Sherrie Windsor describes her characters. I can’t wait to read about Sandra's next adventure.”

I think Deirdre put it on a little bit too thick. The book wasn’t that good, but I knew how much she hated it when James started getting into attack mode.

“I hope you won’t choose that book for the book club,” James said. “Windsor seems to specialize in sleuths who blunder their way to solving mysteries. In the real world, this doesn't happen. My friend Bill Murphy...you all know Bill, right? He employs strategy to get his man or
woman
.”

Was it my imagination or was James looking straight at me when he said that? I looked around at the others in the room. Were any of them involved in Sherman's murder? James just said he was a friend of Bill Murphy's. And there was a “John” among the hooded six. I stared over at John. Was he the John? No, he couldn't have been involved in Sherman's death.

There was a pause for a few moments. “Any last words, Rebecca?” Elizabeth asked.

“So many of the characters appeared guilty, having access to the kitchen and the food,” Rebecca said. “Many couldn't or wouldn't account for their whereabouts during a certain time period. One by one, though, the suspects were eliminated until only the true killer remained.”

I looked at James. Maybe he had a tic or something in his eyes. They seemed to constantly blink and roll. I groaned to myself but remembered what he pointed out about the coroner. And a lab technician was also in on it. A coroner's report could be faked, and so could lab findings. And when he spoke of Bill Murphy...was he giving me some kind of a warning? A cold shiver went down my spine.

“Okay. Let’s put this book to the vote,” Elizabeth said. “Who gives it a thumbs up?” Elizabeth, Deirdre, Rebecca, myself, and another member of the group all put our thumbs up.

“Thumbs down?” Elizabeth asked. James and John responded as predicted.

“Whose turn is it to choose the book for next month?” Elizabeth asked.

“Mine,” James said, grinning. “I’ll be sure to send you all an email with my choice in a couple of days.”

“Another slasher thriller, I assume,” Deirdre said. There were groans around the room.

“You all know me so well.” James chuckled.

* * * *

Coming home, I found Phil in the family room watching a concert on television. “Well, was there a line-up?” he asked.

“A line-up for what?”

“Of men joining Elizabeth’s book club.”

I didn't even bother to answer that. “I don’t know why James keeps coming. Any book the women pick, he hates. I don't get it. When we're not at the book club, he's a different guy.”

“A regular Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

“Right. James did make an interesting comment, though, about the coroner in the book being the murderer. It made me think again about lab results coming back with everything being normal when Sherman must have been drugged.” Could Dr. Anders have had any involvement in Sherman's death? Of course not. “How could I even think that with all the good he does at the free clinic?” I said aloud to myself.

“Think about what? This concert is fantastic.”

“Why don't you turn off the television? Let's find something we can do together.”

Phil waited for the guitar solo to end and pressed the remote button.

Friday, November 4

The sweet smell of freshly baked bread permeated the house, and the aroma brought me out of my morning slumber. Best alarm clock ever. I made my way down the stairs toward the smell and heard Phil humming “The Way You Look Tonight” in the kitchen. Upon seeing me, he took me in his arms, twirled me around the kitchen, and started singing the words with dramatic flair. This was a pleasant start to the day indeed, but what magic had possessed him this morning? Had the aroma cast a spell of joyfulness? He kissed my ear and said, “Good morning, Kay.” I glanced at the calendar and saw the weekend circled and embellished with all sort of doodles in red ink. But of course, this enchantment was all about jazz.

“You sure are excited about this weekend,” I noted, a tinge of annoyance weaving its way into my mood.

“Better believe it. Three days of pure jazz. I am going to be playing with Gene Bernocchi.”

“Who?”

“Gene Bernocchi, the renowned master jazz guitarist. He's been called 'The Jazz Segovia.'“

The conversation was not likely to interest me. Besides, I had plenty of other things to worry about. “What are you baking?”

“Dark rye rolls. I got up early and thought they would go well with the lunch you have planned for your friends.” He enjoyed baking all of our bread.

“Thoughtful, Phil. Thanks. Smells scrumptious.”

* * * *

Phil left with Mike and Dinesh for the jazz camp a couple of hours before Elizabeth and Deirdre were scheduled to arrive. For lunch, I prepared a chicken, porcini mushroom, and wild rice dish, baked butternut squash from our garden, a mesclun salad, and a flourless, chocolate cake for dessert.

Elizabeth and Deirdre arrived just before eleven o’clock.

“I'm glad you could make it early. Mary Ann is coming at noon. I've decided not to tell her about seeing Sherman in the vacant store. Too many unanswered questions. Like her whereabouts last Friday. She could be part of this whole thing. Perhaps she went that day to her parents so she would have an alibi.”

“Mary Ann? Are you serious?” Elizabeth asked.

Deirdre spoke over Elizabeth. “Here is the list of people Elizabeth and I remember greeting at the Halloween Ball.”

I gave the list a cursory glance. “Lots of names here. This should narrow down our list of suspects.”

“I couldn’t wait to talk to both of you,” Deirdre said. “I kept thinking about what James said last night at the book club about the toxicology report coming back normal, which pointed to the coroner being guilty of the poisoning.”

“I think it hit us all at the same time,” Elizabeth said. “It definitely casts suspicion on Dr. Anders for me.”

I shook my head. “Remember, that book was a fictional cozy murder mystery, not a crime documentary. Dr. Anders doesn't have the character of a murderer...I don’t think. But Tuesday night when I’m at the free clinic, I’ll visit the morgue and Dr. Anders' office and look in Sherman's files. Let’s see what I find out. I'd like to put our suspicion to rest and eliminate him as a suspect.”

“Sounds risky,” Deirdre said.

“It's quiet and deserted everywhere other than the unit of the clinic we're using. The other units close at five o’clock.”

“Won't someone be working in the morgue?” Elizabeth asked.

“Dr. Anders works with an assistant there. I'll find out when his assistant is going on break. I'm pretty sure I know where the keys to the file cabinets are in his office.”

“What if you get caught?” Deirdre asked.

“The way I figure, Dr. Anders can’t be in two places at once. I'm always paired up with him. I'll do my search when he's in with a patient. He never leaves the immediate area once the patients start coming in. I'm glad I didn’t say anything to him about what I saw in the vacant store.”

“You were going to tell him?” Deirdre asked.

“I thought about it.” The doorbell rang, and I got up from the sofa to open the door.

“Mary Ann, please come in. Did your parents get off okay?” I asked.

“Yes, they left a couple of hours ago. The house seems so empty now. I was grateful for your invitation.”

“How are you doing, Mary Ann?” Deirdre asked.

Mary Ann smiled but cast her eyes down. “I feel like I am still in a fog. Less than a week ago, I left to visit my parents, and now my husband is dead and buried, and I'm a widow. I feel numb.” Mary Ann started to cry quiet tears.

“I'm sorry,” Deirdre said, putting her hands on Mary Ann's shoulders. “It must be terrible for you. Let me know if you'd like to come over sometime. Your chakras could probably use some realignment.”

“I'm glad you were able to come for lunch, Mary Ann,” I said quickly.

“Hello, Mary Ann,” Elizabeth said, walking into the living room. “Kay, you might want to look in the oven. I hear a lot of sizzling going on.”

Thinking I needed to change the mood, I put on some Elton John and left to check on the food. When I returned five minutes later, I was happy to see the mood had remarkably lightened up. “Everything is ready,” I announced over the sound of Elizabeth singing. We all went into the dining room.

After an amiable lunch, I came from the kitchen bringing in the dessert when I heard Elizabeth talking.

“Mary Ann, Kay needs to tell you something which I'm afraid will be shocking. It’s about what she saw the night of the Halloween Ball concerning Sher—”