The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) (11 page)

“The lab findings of the crops came back irregular, and he was onto something big? Do you know anything about the results?”

“No, again, I didn’t ask him about the business with the book. It wouldn’t have meant anything to me. I still need to go to his office soon to pick up his things. Perhaps I’ll find the lab report.”

“Mary Ann, you might be wondering why I’m asking you all of these questions.”

“Yes, but I decided I had to trust someone. This is so hard, so hard.”

“On occasion, as a public health nurse, I worked with the police involving the criminal matters of my clients. It sounds like you have doubts about many things pertaining to your husband’s death. If you aren’t altogether satisfied with the police and coroner’s explanations, perhaps we could delve into this a little deeper on our own.”

Mary Ann’s expression did not change. “Do you think something criminal is going on here?”

“If you find anything questionable when you look through your husband’s office and papers, please feel free to call me,” I responded, avoiding her question.

“Thank you, I will. So much has happened that doesn't add up. No one else seems to notice. You're the first person I've talked to who sees it.”

If I didn't know what I did about her husband's death, I too may have dismissed her as a grieving, distraught widow. I took a piece of paper out of my purse and wrote my name and phone number down for her.

She took the paper from me and studied it before giving me a small smile. “Sherman’s funeral is Thursday at noon, if you would like to come. Afterward there's a luncheon here.”

Mary Ann's mother returned carrying a bamboo serving tray, which held the coffee and three generous pieces of the sour cream coffee cake.

* * * *

As I walked home, I dredged up memories from my past investigative work. I had thought it was all behind me. Never once did I think I would ever have to do it again. The fact was, a murder had happened in my new home town, and I already knew too much not to get involved. It was my responsibility as a citizen of Sudbury Falls to take action. When I arrived home, I sat down at the kitchen table and wrote down everything I knew so far about the case. Perhaps I'd find a link or a clue I had missed when it was all before me on paper. I started to write:

Sherman Walters

1. On the night of the Halloween Ball, I saw a group of robed people crowded around Professor Walters in the vacant store. The next day, we found him “drowned” in the river.

2. Al Stewart and Bill Murphy were two of the six in the store. A third was called John. I don't think Margaret was there, but she is connected in some way (the robe in her attic). Who were the others? Did anyone see me?

Had the professor's body been purposely left at the riverbank where Al knew we walked? Was this a warning for me? Was I in danger?

3. The neighbor girls may have seen the professor moved to a different location between when I saw him in the store and when he turned up dead.

4. Walters passed us on our way to the fish fry in a hurry on Friday night. Where was he going? He wasn't walking in the direction of his home or the university.

5. Walters' office was broken into and his computer stolen about a month ago. Mary Ann says he was writing a book about agriculture in Sudbury Falls, and that he was onto something big. He had backups of his files...incentive for murder?

I shook my head thinking about the overwhelming task ahead. This was going to be a difficult effort to bear alone. It would be easier if I could share what I knew with Deirdre and Elizabeth, take them into my confidence. They could assist me. But could they be trusted? Were they, in fact, at the Ball greeting people while I was busy uncovering the sordid affair in the store?

Then there was Phil. He wouldn’t be any help. Perhaps if someone was bludgeoned to death with a guitar, he might be interested, although he'd probably be more concerned about the damage to the guitar.

I couldn’t put myself into jeopardy by going to the police. Who knew how many of them were involved? At least one of them, their second-in-command. I'd contact Thom, my FBI friend, later and bring him into the loop once I had some solid evidence.

My focus returned to Deirdre and Elizabeth, both enthusiastic about solving mysteries, even if only in books. They both were fellow members of Sisters in Crime, an organization for crime writers and fans. Elizabeth would love playing at Miss Marple and solving a real life mystery. I bet she'd read every Agatha Christie book. Deirdre was more the Nancy Drew type. With the number of mysteries they had both read, they in all likelihood knew every method and technique for solving crimes that had ever been written about. I decided to get together with them and feel them out, but first I would have to count them out as conspirators. If I thought them safe, I would reveal that I was investigating the cause of Sherman's death. The coroner’s report, corroborated by the police, was of a dubious nature. The more I thought about it, the better the idea was. They would be great assistants.

Late in the morning, I called Deirdre and Elizabeth and asked them to join me at Marissa’s after lunch for dessert. It had been a while since they had stopped in for an afternoon chocolate binge, and I was worried about their going through withdrawals.

When we arrived at Marissa’s, we sat in the furthest dining room on a leather sofa in front of the fireplace where it was most private.

Marissa came in to greet us. “How are my favorite customers this afternoon?”

“Great,” I said. “How have you been since this morning?”

“Pretty good. Oh, Kay, before I forget, Al Stewart came in earlier. He said he knows you are here almost every day, and that I'd see you before he did. He wants you to stop by his house some evening this week. He has a surprise for you.”

Elizabeth and Deirdre looked over at me with raised eyebrows. Elizabeth winked. Marissa stood smiling. I only felt a stab of trepidation.

“Surprise? Did he say what?”

“Sorry, that's all he said. Well, what are you all in the mood for today?”

“I would like the caramel apple bread pudding,” Deirdre said. “I love the rum sauce.”

Marissa turned to Elizabeth. “That does sound good. Just give me another minute to think. Kay, you go next.”

“I’ll have a piece of the chocolate mousse cake,” I said.

“Only one piece?” Marissa asked me and winked.

I laughed. “Yes, just one. I'm trying hard to mend my wicked ways.”

“Marissa, I’ll have the caramel apple bread pudding, also,” Elizabeth said, handing Marissa the menu.

“I'm surprised you still need to look at a menu when you come in here. By the way, I just made a batch of madeleines using a new recipe. Can I bring a plate of those out right away for you to sample, and you can tell me what you think?”

“I'm surprised you need to ask,” Elizabeth said.

Marissa laughed and turned to Deirdre. “Deirdre, I thought it a nice touch this year that you, Mike, and Elizabeth greeted people at the Halloween Ball. Very welcoming.”

“Marissa, what time did you and Pete arrive? I didn't see you come in,” I said.

“About a quarter after seven. I'll be right back with those samples.”

Relief washed over me like a wave. Elizabeth and Deirdre's alibis checked out. How could I have suspected my two best friends of having anything to do with the professor's murder?

“Well, you're looking much better now,” Deirdre said. “When Marissa mentioned Al, I could see the color drain from your face.”

“Yeah. We were only kidding with you, you know.”

“What? Oh, right.” I waved a hand but then leaned in closer and dropped my voice. “Remember Saturday night when I was an hour late to the Ball?” I started to tell them about what happened to me on the way to the Ball, what I saw in the vacant store. Elizabeth and Deirdre stared at me with wide eyes as the story unfolded. “Talk about being frightened and with the chase, I was terrified!”

“How awful for you, Kay,” Deirdre said, “and you've been keeping this all to yourself all this time?”

“And now Al wants to see me. What's up with that? Does he know it was me in the store? I acted so nervous when we danced.”

“Do you think he would have given Marissa the message if he suspected you?” Deirdre asked.

“Good point, Deirdre,” Elizabeth said.

“I can't go to the local police with this information because of Bill Murphy and who knows how many others. I need proof, hard evidence, before I can go to the state authorities. The only thing left to do is to explore what happened to Sherman ourselves.”

“Ourselves? You mean, all of us?” Deirdre said.

“I could use your assistance with this. It might be a risky undertaking and could get dangerous. These people are willing to do terrible things. Look what happened to Sherman.”

I looked up and saw Marissa standing right by us with a tray of small shell-shaped cakes. Damn!

“Here are the madeleines. I forgot to ask you what you all wanted to drink.”

The three of us looked at each other.

“Any kind of strong black tea, Marissa. Surprise me,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Chai spice for me,” Deirdre said.

“A pot of the ginseng,” Elizabeth said. Marissa headed back to the kitchen.

“How long was Marissa standing there?” I asked after she left.

“It couldn't have been more than a few seconds. I was so intent on what you were saying that I didn’t even see her come up,” Deirdre said.

“I doubt she heard much,” Elizabeth said. “Marissa hears lots of conversations all day long. No doubt it goes in one ear and out the other. Besides, even if she did hear anything, she wouldn’t have a great business if she gossiped with everyone about what she had heard in the patisserie.”

“We need to be more careful,” I said.

“Kay, did you notice Marissa limping?” Elizabeth asked.

I sat upright. Limping, like the person the girls had seen in the alley the night of the Ball. Carrying Sherman. “I didn't.”

“I'd like to help out,” Deirdre said. “I'm with you all the way. I already have some great ideas.”

Elizabeth grimaced and rolled her eyes at Deirdre. “I’m in also. I think it will be fun, but you're right that we have to be discrete, just the two—sorry Deirdre—I mean three of us.” Elizabeth winked. “We don't know who's all involved.”

Deirdre twisted her mouth and crossed her arms. “
Très amusante.
”

I didn't know if this was going to work with the two of them bickering. It might not be worth it. “Speaking of who is involved, Deirdre, would you and Elizabeth make a list of names of everyone you remember greeting Saturday evening at the Ball? What time did you get there?”

“Seven o'clock. It'll be a long list, but we can try,” she said.

“That'll be a big help. Mary Ann, Sherman’s widow, is also suspicious about Sherman’s official cause of death. I don't know how much she needs to be involved, but she can supply information as to what she finds in Sherman's office at school and at home.”

“Does she know what you saw?” Deirdre asked.

“No.”

“The autopsy said he died from drowning, but he was pretty lifeless early Saturday evening, it sounds like,” Elizabeth said. “He must have been drugged when he ended up in the water.”

Marissa returned. She was limping. She put our tea and desserts down on the low coffee table in front of us.

“Thanks, Marissa. Everything looks scrumptious,” I said. “We noticed you're limping. What happened?”

“The night of the Halloween Ball, I was leaving the patisserie. It was dark outside. I didn't see a hole in the alley in the shadows, and stepped into it and twisted my ankle. It's better now,” she said, testing her weight on it a bit. “Well, almost. Let me know if you need anything else.” Marissa turned and limped away.

“Let's brainstorm,” Deirdre said.

I took a sip of my tea. It sure had a great blend of spices, perfect amount of cardamom. I wondered how much help Deirdre and Elizabeth would be.

“You said Thursday's Sherman's funeral,” said Elizabeth. “We should go and see who all attends.”

“Right. And the day after the funeral, I think we should talk to Mary Ann and tell her about Saturday night,” I said. “She doesn't need to know every detail. It will be a shock for her, although she suspects things aren't right.”

“But if she knows the truth, she'll be more willing to give us information,” Elizabeth said.

“I'll invite her over for lunch on Friday,” I said.

“I have a great idea,” Deirdre said. “Just the other day, I read an article that dealt with determining murderers through horoscopes.” Elizabeth glanced over in my direction. “The idea was discussed in terms of aspects. An aspect is an astrological term for angular separation. You take angles of various degrees and these hard aspects are associated with problems and dysfunctions in life. An example would be…for example...in an aspect to Mars. Mars is a planet of action and aggression which is an indicator of violence. On the other hand...”