Ladle to the Grave (A Soup Lover's Mystery Book 4) (4 page)

L
UCKY CLAMBERED OFF
the rock and raced toward the sound, scrambling down the rise. She tripped and almost slid the rest of the way. Sophie stood at the bank of the creek, staring at a dark green bundle wedged between two rocks floating in the water.

“Sophie?” Lucky approached.

Sophie turned to her without speaking and pointed at the dark mass in the creek.

The dark green bundle was a man’s jacket floating and inflated like a balloon. Lucky recognized the shape of a white hand under the water. Denim jeans covered a pair of legs that protruded from the jacket. A dead man was bobbing in the water.

She touched Sophie’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Sophie gulped and nodded. “I just didn’t realize what I was looking at.” They stood in silence staring at the corpse for several moments.

“Is he really dead?” Sophie asked.

Lucky nodded. “Looks that way.” Burbling water gushed over the rocks. The body had been snagged by an overhanging tree branch entangled in the coat.

“We need to check, don’t we?” Sophie said. “What if he’s just unconscious?”

“I really think we’re too late.” Lucky turned away and grabbed a long, sturdy branch that lay on the ground. “But I think we should have a look at him.”

Sophie nodded. “Go ahead.”

Carefully maneuvering the long branch, Lucky snagged the edge of a pocket and pushed gently. The body rolled over slowly. The man’s face was a mask of bloody flesh.

“Oh, dear God,” Sophie groaned. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay. You’ll be okay.” Lucky dropped the branch. “Let’s leave him and call Nate. We shouldn’t touch anything.”

“How did he get here?”

“He must have washed down from the top of the hill. Maybe he got banged up on the rocks or . . .”

“What?”

“Animals? Maybe.” Lucky leaned in closer for a better look.

“Come on. I can’t look at it.” Sophie grabbed Lucky’s hand and started to drag her back up the hill.

Lucky could barely pull her gaze away. She turned and let Sophie lead her back to the house. “We have to call Nate right away.”

*   *   *

N
A
TE
E
DGERTON ARRIVED
on the scene fifteen minutes later, looking as if he still hadn’t slept from the night before. Bradley Moffitt, his deputy, also appearing very pale, rode with him.

Lucky walked toward the cruiser as Nate climbed out. Sophie remained seated on the steps, her hands covering her face.

“Where is he?” Nate asked.

“Take that path right there.” Lucky pointed to an opening between the trees. “He’s in the creek down below.”

Nate nodded and gestured to Bradley to follow.

Lucky joined Sophie on the steps of the battered front porch as Nate and his deputy disappeared from sight. Lucky pulled out her cell phone to call the Spoonful to let them know she’d be delayed. She only hoped she’d be able to get cell service from their location. She breathed a sigh of relief when Sage answered the phone after a few rings. She quickly filled him in about what was happening and told him not to worry. She promised they’d tell him everything when they returned.

A few minutes later Lucky heard the crashing of branches. Nate Edgerton reappeared on the path between the trees. His shoes and pant legs were soaked to his knees. His complexion was gray, and dark circles outlined his eyes. He sat down heavily at the edge of the stairs and pulled out a notebook. “What brought you two up here?”

Sophie spoke first. “I wanted to show Lucky my mom’s property. It’s been a long time since she’s been here. Sage and I are hoping to buy out my brother’s interest and redo the house.” Sophie’s hands shook. “I thought it’d be a fun surprise to tell Lucky about it.”

Nate whistled. “That’ll take a lot of doing.”

“I know. But we want it to be a real home again. And I don’t want my grandfather’s chimney and fireplace to go to waste.”

Nate nodded. “I can understand that. It’s a beauty, all right. All river rock, all perfectly joined too.” He made a few scribbles in his notebook. “I wish you lots of luck. Don’t let this thing today get in your way. I’m sure we’ll find out who this man is and I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation how he ended up in your backyard. What made you go down there, anyway?” He nodded in the direction of the creek.

“My hands were all sooty from the fireplace. And there’s no running water now, so I just wanted to wash up.” She looked down at her half-clean hands and rubbed them self-consciously on her jeans.

“Elias is on his way,” Nate said to Lucky. “I don’t know what he can tell us. Given the way this guy looks, it’s hard to say what killed him.”

“Do you think he could have fallen and hit his head and washed down this far?”

“Possible.” He looked at both women carefully. “Anything about him either of you recognized?”

Sophie shook her head violently. “Nate, there wasn’t anything to recognize. I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“I’ll bet you haven’t. Sorry you had to discover him, but if you two hadn’t come along, well . . . who knows when he would have been found. Coulda been there for months, maybe years. At least we got him when there might still be some identifying marks.”

They all turned as a car approached up the dirt drive. Lucky recognized Elias’s silver sedan. He climbed out and walked toward them, reaching down to place a protective arm around Lucky’s shoulders. “Are you all right?”

Lucky just nodded.

“Sophie? How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ll be okay, Elias. Just a bad shock.”

Nate gestured toward the path that ran down to the creek. “You’ll find Bradley down there.”

Elias nodded. “I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”

When Elias was out of sight, Lucky asked, “What do
you
think happened to him, Nate?”

“Don’t know. He could have slipped and fallen in farther upstream. Maybe knocked unconscious and drowned. But . . .” He trailed off. “I don’t know. That damage to his face . . .” Nate shook his head in disbelief. “Doesn’t seem like the rocks could’ve done that.”

“Is there any identification on him?”

“Nothing I could find. No ID, no wallet, which is pretty strange. We pulled him out of the water for now. Looks like he’s maybe been in there a few days. Once Elias has a look, I’ll have Bradley wait for the coroner’s van to get over here from Lincoln Falls.” He ran a hand through his thick gray hair. “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. Two deaths in less than twelve hours.” He stood slowly, holding a hand against his lower back. “Why don’t you two go back to town? We’ve got this covered.”

Lucky agreed. She was still unnerved by their discovery. “Tell Elias I’ll catch up with him later?”

Nate nodded and watched as they climbed into Sophie’s car and reversed onto the road. Sophie was silent on the drive back to town.

Lucky glanced over. “You’re very quiet all of a sudden. You sure you’re okay?”

Sophie’s jaw was clenched. “This feels like a bad omen, Lucky.”

“Don’t even say that. It’s horrible, but it’s probably an accident. It has nothing to do with you—or with Sage.”

Sophie shivered. “I only hope you’re right.”

S
AGE STEPPED OUT
to the corridor as soon as he heard the back door slam. “What happened?” He looked as if he had been worrying since he had received the phone call. “Isn’t Sophie with you?”

“She’s fine, but she wanted to go straight home.”

“Tell me everything.”

“Sophie walked down to the creek to wash her hands and she found a man—dead, floating in the water.”

“A dead man? Who?”

“Nobody knows. And Nate said he couldn’t find any identification at all.”

“Look, will you be okay if I take off a little early? I just want to make sure Sophie’s all right.”

“Sure, you go ahead. Janie and Meg are here. I’ll man the kitchen and they can take care of the front. You go home.”

“Thanks, Lucky. I just don’t want to leave you in the lurch.”

“You’re not. Go ahead. Where’s Jack, by the way?”

“Uh . . . he left about an hour ago. Didn’t say where he was going.”

“Really? That’s odd. Was he okay?”

“Just very quiet. Like something was on his mind.”

“Ah. I’ll bet I know what it is.” She sighed. “I’ll catch up with him later. Too much stuff is happening all of a sudden. Uh, Sage, can you wait just a minute? I need to make a phone call before you go.”

“Sure, I’ll wait.”

Lucky hurried into the office and looked up Cordelia Rank’s home number. Norman Rank, Cordelia’s husband, was their landlord, the owner of the space the Spoonful occupied. Their number was on her Rolodex. It was Norman who answered.

“I was hoping to talk to Cordelia. Is she available?”

“No, I’m sorry, Lucky. She’s resting right now. She’s very upset about . . . well, I’m sure you know.”

“Yes, Jack’s concerned too. I’ll talk to her later. Please let her know I called, though.”

“I will.”

Lucky sighed. Norman, for all his idiosyncrasies, was a breeze to deal with. Cordelia was another story altogether. Lucky returned to the kitchen and said good-bye to Sage. She looked around. Three large slow-cooking pots stood full. She lifted the lids and stirred each with a wooden spoon, making sure nothing was drying out. Each pot bubbled with Sage’s specials of the day: an Asian tofu soup with ginger and green onion, a beet and apricot soup, and a potato kale that was Lucky’s favorite. All the sandwich ingredients were in containers in the refrigerator, and the rolls and breads were already sliced and covered in preparation for the next rush at supper time.

Janie had chosen one of Jack’s CDs to play. This one was an upbeat big band sound that kept a steady rhythm going.
Good choice
, Lucky thought. The restaurant was full. The music would keep everyone on their toes.

*   *   *

T
HE NEXT HOURS
passed quickly. Lucky filled thirty orders of soup and twenty of sandwiches, made five pots of coffee and ten cups of tea. She had a new respect for Sage’s organization. Her back was aching, and this wasn’t even a particularly busy day.

As the last customers were leaving, she realized Jack had never returned. She wiped her hands on a dish towel and dialed his home number from the kitchen phone. It rang fifteen times—no answer. She shook her head in frustration. Jack refused to get an answering machine. He always said if anybody really wanted to talk to him, they could just ring his doorbell. After all, he would say, how did everyone manage before there were answering machines?

She was definitely worried. If he were home, he’d answer his phone. And if he hadn’t been at the restaurant all afternoon, where had he gone? It wasn’t like Jack to leave them like this and not make sure everything was secure for the night.

Lucky was the last to leave. She hauled the last trash bag out to the Dumpster and climbed into her car. When she turned the key in the ignition, the engine coughed and died. She tried again to no avail. In frustration, she banged the steering wheel. “Not now. This is all I need.” In her daily routine, she had no real need of a car. Her apartment building was on Maple Street, just around the corner. She could easily walk back and forth every day. In fact, most of the places she visited in town were within walking distance. But over the next two weeks she’d be busy helping Sophie with her wedding plans. She’d need transportation if she had to drive to Lincoln Falls to pick up flowers or supplies or anything else. She sighed and rested her head against the steering wheel.

Jack sat motionless at the kitchen table. Outside it had grown dark and only a small bulb over the kitchen sink offered relief from the night. His eyes were closed, hands held over his face, as he replayed in his mind the steps he had taken that day in the woods. He was sure he could find that same place again, the spot where he had found the woodruff. It was along a path that led past the meadow toward the small pond, a shady, water-fed spot, a perfect place for woodruff to grow. He saw himself walking, searching, then kneeling and trimming the plant. Had he made a mistake? Had there been something else growing there that he hadn’t seen? His eyesight wasn’t what it once was, he knew, but surely he would have spotted anything strange, something that didn’t belong? Other things could be growing near, that was true, but he would have recognized them. Had he been careful enough? Had he sorted through the plants on his kitchen counter? Yes, he had. He was sure it was only woodruff he had picked. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Could he trust his own memory? It sometimes failed him; there were times he could recognize a face and knew the name, but couldn’t bring it all the way into his mind. Had something like that happened? Had he been careless? Had someone died because of him?

Lucky tried to start the car again. Again the engine coughed and refused to turn over. She groaned. It was too late to call Guy Bessette at the Auto Shop. She’d call tomorrow, and tonight she could walk the few blocks to Jack’s house on Birch Street. She climbed out of the car and hurried down the alleyway to Broadway. It had worried her all evening that Jack hadn’t returned to the Spoonful. She knew he’d be concerned about Nate’s questions, but she was positive that whatever had happened to Agnes Warner in the woods the night before had nothing to do with the plants he had provided.

The first evening of May promised delicious warm days. Fragrant lilacs would bloom soon, but the evenings were still chilly. She wrapped her sweater tighter around her and turned the corner on Birch Street. She climbed the steps to Jack’s house and peeked through the window in the front door. A light was burning at the back of the house. Jack was still awake. She knocked on the front door and waited. No answer. She retraced her steps and walked down the driveway. Jack’s car was there, parked in front of the garage. She continued along the side of his house and stood on tiptoe to peer through the kitchen window. Jack sat at the table, his head in his hands. She tapped on the glass.

“Jack. It’s me.”

He looked up, an anxious expression on his face.

“Can you let me in?”

Jack rose slowly and walked to the back door. He unlocked it and held it open for her.

“Lucky, my girl. Did you walk over? You shouldn’t have bothered.” His complexion was drained, as if he had aged in the few hours since that morning.

“I was worried about you. You didn’t come back.”

“I just couldn’t face anybody—especially if they’re all thinking I caused . . . you know.”

“You’re taking too much on.” Lucky sighed. “I don’t think you made a mistake. I’m sure whatever plants you gave them were fine. Besides, I’ve never heard of anyone having an allergic reaction to woodruff. It’s used all the time as a flavoring ingredient.”

“I just can’t get it out of my head—that maybe I did something wrong. Wasn’t careful enough.”

“Oh, Jack. You’ve got to stop thinking like that. For all we know, the poor woman had a stroke. Please. Don’t let this gnaw away at you. Let’s find out the facts before we jump to any conclusions.” She reached across the scarred wooden table and squeezed his hand.

He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I’m a worrywart. I know I am.”

“We’ll find out exactly what happened to her in a few days. Until then, stop blaming yourself for things you had no control over, okay?” Lucky realized she had to add to Jack’s worries. She’d rather he heard from her than from someone else. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you what happened this afternoon.”

Jack’s eyebrows rose as she filled him in on the discovery of the body in the creek.

“You shoulda called me.”

“Well, I called the Spoonful and spoke to Sage, but you might have already gone home. Besides, there was no need for you to be worrying about me. We were fine. Nate and Bradley got there right away. And then Elias. We talked to Nate for a bit and then we drove back.” She looked at him carefully. “Anyway, you need to get some rest. What have you been doing all afternoon? Sitting here worrying?”

“Nah,” Jack denied. “Look, can you come and have a peek at the herb garden? I went out there earlier to check, but I couldn’t see anything wrong.”

“Okay. If it makes you feel better.”

Jack grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen counter. Lucky wondered how many trips he had made to the backyard this afternoon to check on his plants.

They trudged silently across the lawn. The yard was shaded by a maple tree and tall lilac bushes along both sides of the wooden fence. Jack’s small vegetable and herb garden was laid out in short, neat rows behind low hedges at the rear of his property where the plants would get the best sunlight. He shone his flashlight on a section planted with tomatoes, carrots, potatoes and Swiss chard. There were plants of sage, mint, parsley, thyme and oregano. The next row was basil and strawberry plants and a large borage plant for the bees. “I’ve checked for any weeds that might have come up, but I just weeded a few days ago and didn’t see anything.”

“That’s ’cause there’s nothing to see. This garden is immaculate. Nothing’s growing here that shouldn’t be. If that woman was poisoned, it’s more likely they decided to experiment with their wine and added something she was allergic to. Now will you stop worrying?”

“I guess you’re right. I’m making a mountain out of a molehill.”

She tucked her arm through his and led him gently back into the house. “I’ll say good night. Will you promise me you’ll go straight to bed? Sleep in tomorrow if you like. No need to be at the restaurant early.”

Jack smiled for the first time since the morning. “Oh, I don’t sleep very much anymore, my girl. I’ll be there bright and early.”

“Well, all right, then. If not, I’ll tell Flo you’re feeling bad and might need some help.” She chuckled.

Jack stopped in his tracks and stared at her. “You wouldn’t do that to your defenseless old grandfather, now, would you?”

“Wanna bet?” She laughed and blew him a kiss as he shut the door behind her. Lucky tested the knob to make sure it was locked. The light in the kitchen was extinguished, plunging the driveway into darkness. She headed for the street and continued on through the still night, not meeting another soul. When she reached her apartment building, she climbed the stairs and locked the door behind her, so grateful to fall into bed after a long, strange day.