The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) (23 page)

If only I could have warned Kay, she thought.

Dr. Anders walked into the bathroom, just off the kitchen. Margaret heard him say, “Crazy old bitch!” The medicine cabinet opened. A minute later he came back into the kitchen grimacing, still holding his handkerchief to his cheek. He produced a hip flask from his pocket and took a long drink. After a few minutes, he put his handkerchief in the plastic bag in the wastebasket.

He picked up the chair that Margaret shoved at him, and put it back by the table. Taking a blue bottle of cleaner from under the sink, he sprayed the blood on the floor and wiped it up. All the while Margaret watched him with eyes that she couldn't move. He wiped off the countertop. Putting the cloth into the plastic bag, he returned the bottle back under the sink.

My God, he's going to get away with this.

He dropped the cup of chamomile tea, Margaret had made, on the floor next to her. “Oops,” he said and smiled at Margaret. A few drops of the tea splashed onto his pants leg. He gave the room one last look and said, “It should be any time now, Margaret.”

He took the plastic bag out of the wastebasket and walked over to Margaret. “Soon,” he said. Margaret stared at him. “Good night, my Lady Macbeth. It’s time. No applause or spotlight on you as the curtain closes.” He closed her eyelids. “Only darkness.”

The kitchen door clicked shut.

Wednesday, November 9

I sat at the kitchen table over my second cup of tea thinking about all that had transpired last night with Dr. Anders at the free clinic, lingering over his words, “You may be getting yourself into a mess.” Did he suspect me? What other explanation could there be for what he said. My heart started to beat harder. And then Margaret's message.

The doorbell rang. I jerked in my chair. I looked at my watch. “Geez.”

I opened the door and saw Elizabeth and Deirdre standing there. “Come in. Sorry. I lost track of the time.”

“Kay, you're always so prompt,” Elizabeth said. “Hope you don't start getting as bad as Deirdre.”

Deirdre forced a laugh and then crossed her arms. “Chill, Elizabeth!”

I looked at the two of them. “I got the copies of the autopsy and toxicology reports last night at the free clinic.” I told them what happened during the evening. “I still need to look them over.”

“What? You haven't looked at them yet?” Elizabeth asked, her voice more intense than usual. “What are you waiting for?”

“I was beat and went to bed early. I sure saw a different side of Dr. Anders last night at the clinic.”

“The dark side, I bet,” Deirdre said.

“Yes. And when I came home, a message was waiting for me from Margaret. She needs to tell me something.”

“Didn't she tell you anything yesterday?” Elizabeth asked.

“Not a confession. I felt bad, bringing up distressing subjects.”

Deirdre looked over at me. “You don’t want to create negative energy.”

“We need Margaret’s confession,” Elizabeth said. “That’s worth a little negative energy.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes.” I went over to the front closet and took my coat out.

“Wait.” I put my coat on the chair. “I'll quick run upstairs and bring the toxicology reports down. We can look them over before we walk.”

“No time. Mary Ann's meeting us in less than an hour at my home,” Deirdre said. “Let's go.”

We walked down the driveway and headed toward campus. A couple of joggers we saw every morning came our way. “Morning,” they both said. I smiled, waved, and said, “Hello.” When we walked over the bridge in the open space, I looked down at the water where we had found Sherman's body and thought about that morning. I probably always would.

“Alicia’s funeral's in Madison next week,” I said.

“Was an autopsy done?” Deirdre asked.

“No doubt by Dr. Anders,” Elizabeth responded.

Elizabeth, who set the pace of our walks, increased her speed. Arriving back on our block, she said, “Deirdre, I'll be over in a few minutes after I check my voice mail. Date night.” Elizabeth started walking toward her house.

“I noticed the herbal shop plans you left last night on our kitchen counter,” I said.

“You had already left for the clinic by the time I came.”

“So your color choices are either saffron or violet?”

“I'm thinking pale lavender. Both colors symbolize peace and spirituality.”

“I’ll look over the plans tonight.”

“Never mind that for now. I didn’t want to say anything with Elizabeth here.”

“Say what?”

“About when I brought over the plans. I knocked on your backdoor. No one answered. I could see your kitchen door open so I went in to drop them off. Phil was on the phone in the living room. I didn't try to listen. Couldn't help to hear him say, 'Don't tell Kay anything about our dinner. She doesn't need to know. It could only hurt her.' I didn't sleep much last night thinking about it. I thought you should know.”

My heart started to race in my chest. Phil. What could explain this? A faint tremor crept into my voice. “Any mention of a name?”

Deirdre shook her head. “I'm sorry, Kay, that's all I heard.” She gave me an awkward hug.

I took a deep breath and tried to regain some composure. “You know, Deirdre, Phil's gone most week nights, often times until at least nine o'clock. He could be having dinner with anyone.” My head tilted toward the ground as I looked inward. I felt betrayed. “There are times when he acts kind of strange.”

“I sensed that.” Deirdre took a step toward me and spoke up with a soothing voice. “I wouldn't read too much into it yet. I only heard one side of the conversation, after all.”

Feeling self-conscious when Deirdre looked at me with her concerned eyes, I gave her a stiff hug. “I appreciate you telling me, Deirdre. Thank you.”

Deirdre sped onward to a new topic. “Another reason I couldn't sleep. I've had this feeling...a rather terrible feeling like I—all of us, really—are descending deeper and deeper into a treacherous fog, filled with demise and certain danger.” Her eyes opened wide. Her voice displayed heartfelt fear.

I didn’t know what to say. In a way, I knew what she meant. I had begun to have similar feelings over the past several days. Our investigation into the strange death of a community member uncovered a plot that seemed to grow larger and more sinister with each new clue. Later today, Margaret would give me more information about Professor Walters’ death, and I bet it would reveal something important.

Deirdre’s voice brought me out of my reverie. “Mary Ann's here.” I glanced up and saw Mary Ann, standing outside of Deirdre’s front door looking at us.

* * * *

I followed Deirdre up the herringbone brick path leading to her home. We were all meeting to discuss the progress we had made on the case. We greeted each other and Deirdre let us into her home. Her house was arranged according to the principles of feng
shui to improve positive energy flow. It was uncluttered, featured many air-purifying plants and natural light portals throughout. Deirdre had explained to me a while back how she and Mike had used a feng shui compass to analyze the energy for each room and how that energy moved through their home.

Each room contained different elements to increase love, health, abundance, and creativity. In her living room, she kept lush plants and wood furniture in the East area and a stone fountain in the North area to balance the energy. She had a large mirror on a wall which not only made the room look more spacious, but also reflected the beautiful view from her window, adding more light.

Mary Ann and I wandered into the sunroom while Deirdre made a pot of herbal tea. She had grown the herbs in her garden. The sunroom looked out over her large raised flower gardens and herb beds, which just had been laid to rest for the winter. Many kinds of flowers were suspended from the ceiling. The room was filled with baskets of dried herbs and flowers. I recognized a few, yellow yarrow, sage, lavender. Terra cotta flowerpots planted with rosemary, basil, thyme, and oregano, all labeled lined up in front of the French doors and windows.

A small workspace stood in the corner where she had various materials for making wreaths and herbs for making sachets, salves, and poultices. Various colored ribbons were woven into some of the garlic and pepper braids that hung on the wall along with wreaths made of dried flowers. Deirdre once explained the meaning of the colors. The red ribbons represented passion and richness, pink for love, yellow to strengthen overall well-being, and blue for good health. To some, Deirdre's sunroom might look cluttered and not feng shui-compliant, but she had taken care of that by allowing natural light to filter into the room from the French doors and windows. She had a great start to an impressive inventory for her new shop, which she was opening in the spring. A mixture of sweet, spicy fragrances filled the air, and the sunshine made the room feel warm and comforting.

Deirdre carried in a large tray holding mugs of tea and a plate heaping with cranberry scones that I recognized were from Marissa’s.

A few minutes later, Elizabeth burst into the sunroom, looking triumphant and holding a large manila envelope before her. “Look. I found this in my doorway! Jim Miller, Alicia's husband, must have dropped it off. The information Alicia was bringing over to me when she was hit by the car. My name's on it.”

“EMTs must have picked it up,” Deirdre said.

Mary Ann looked interested in the envelope. “Have you looked at the contents?”

“Hi, Mary Ann. I’ve only glanced at the papers,” Elizabeth said sitting down. “Did anyone tell you the three people on the sheet of paper were graduate students in Sherman's department?” Elizabeth proceeded to tell Mary Ann about the students.

“What are the odds of that?” Mary Ann asked. “Probably aren’t many graduate students in the agriculture department. What else is in there?”

Elizabeth continued to finger through the pages without saying a word. She stopped to blow her nose. “There's a…” Elizabeth trailed off as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“What’s the matter, Elizabeth?” Mary Ann asked.

Elizabeth's voice trembled. “Alicia died because of me.” She let the envelope drop to the table and put her hands over her face. She let out a couple of sobs.

Mary Ann put her hand on Elizabeth’s back. “It's not your fault. It was an accident.” Mary Ann looked up at me when she had finished speaking, the question in her eyes. Was it an accident? Was anything that had been happening in Sudbury Falls an accident?

“I feel we're missing something about Sherman, something obvious, but I can’t put my finger on it,” Deirdre said.

“Someone's cell phone. Who has the Nutcracker on it?” Mary Ann asked as my phone began to ring.

“I do.” I took the phone out of my pocket and flipped it open. “Phil? What’s—?” Deirdre looked up. I turned my back to the group.

“Did you hear the news?” Phil asked.

“What news?”

“About Margaret.”

I had this sinking feeling. “What about her?”

“She was found dead this morning at her home. I just heard it now on the car radio.”

I dropped my phone on the floor. I could hear Phil’s voice coming through, muffled by the carpet. I reached down, grabbed the phone and thrust it back to my ear. “Hello? Hello? Oh no. What happened?”

“Her sister...Margaret didn’t show up to go to a doctor’s visit with her. Sarah Something, her neighbor, she went over. Found her on the floor in the kitchen. They say it's a heart attack. Kay, I have to get going. Class is ready to start. Are you still there?”

“Yes. I am. Such a shock. I'll see you tonight for dinner?”

A reluctant sigh came over the phone. “I'm sorry. I should have said something earlier. I'm not going to be home until late.”

“You're not?” I rubbed the back of my neck and shot a look at Deirdre.

“I'm not sure what time I'll get home. I have to go.”

After the call ended, I returned the cell phone to my pocket.

“Kay, what's wrong?” Deirdre asked.

The feelings that accompanied the horrible news of Margaret’s death mixed with my uncertainty about Phil utterly overcame my composure. I buried my face in my hands and cried.

Deirdre came over and put both hands on my shoulders, rubbing them in a way that seemed to transfer feelings of sympathy. I didn't want any sympathy over Phil right now.

I looked up at the group and said, “Margaret MacAlister died.”

Deirdre’s hands froze on my shoulders. Mary Ann clutched her chest and Elizabeth, with her eyes still red, gasped, then spit out the words, “What the hell! One more down. Who's next in line?”

Everyone looked at her rather than at me. I continued, “Of a heart attack. On the kitchen floor.”

Deirdre shook her head. “Don’t you think that is too much of a coincidence?”

“Didn’t we just use the word? Coincidence? I don’t believe in coincidences,” I said.

“They silenced her,” Deirdre added.

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair. “Probably figured she'd talk—”