Death of a Batty Genius (Stormy Day Mystery #3) (12 page)

“I’m not exactly living,” Benji replied.

The sadness in his voice alarmed me, so I turned to him, concerned. He hunkered down over his perfect cubes of carved beef, avoiding my eyes.

After our dessert of miniature no-crust cheesecakes with three different fruit toppings, we enjoyed specialty hot drinks with our favorite liqueurs. Jessica and I both chose the deceptively-named blueberry tea, with amaretto, orange liqueur, and not a blueberry in sight.

The conversation had faded into silence when Jessica proudly announced, “Stormy is working toward getting her private investigator’s license.”

Christopher said, “Tell us more about that. I’m curious to hear what led you to this new career path. It can’t possibly be the compensation, so what is it?”

The others leaned in, equally curious, except for Franco, who said, “Bah! Who needs a detective these days? All you need is an internet connection.”

I gave him a sweet smile. “Care for a demonstration?”

“For free? Sure. Hit me with your best shot.” He crossed his arms.

“You didn’t have wine, and Marie brought you beer in the bottle, so you could read the label. Most commercial beers contain trace amounts of gluten, but that particular brand is popular with people who have celiac disease, because it’s made without wheat. You have a serious gluten allergy, and trust issues when it comes to your food. Your friend Marie knows that about you, and she also cared enough to prepare this entire meal without gluten—except for the bread rolls, which you haven’t touched.”

Franco started clapping a sarcastic, slow clap.

“Too easy,” he said. “And who cares about someone’s food allergies? Show me something useful. A genuine secret.”

“A genuine secret? You would have to check your friend Benji’s inner suit pocket, on the left. The room’s gotten quite warm, and he’s the only man who hasn’t removed his jacket. Plus he keeps touching that area of his suit. See? He’s doing it right now.”

All eyes turned to Benji, who jumped up so fast, he toppled his chair over.

“Not cool,” he said to me, scowling. “Extremely not cool.”

Franco stood. “What’s in your pocket, Benji? Are you going to show us, or do I have to make you?”

“Mind your own business.”

“Show us what you’ve got,” Franco said. “We’re all friends here. How bad could it be?”

While the two of them squared off, I gave Jessica a wide-eyed, innocent look. I hadn’t been sure of either of those things until I’d said them, and I honestly hadn’t expected Benji to be hiding anything other than his cell phone.

Christopher caught my eye. In a judgmental tone that echoed his mother’s voice, he said, “Stormy-Lou, you never could back down. This is how you’re always getting yourself in trouble.”

I answered him by quoting Shakespeare. “
Thou poisonous, bunch-back’d toad
.”

He had no response for that.

Behind me, Benji let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” he said. “Everyone wants to see what’s in my pocket? Here you go. Take a good look.”

He pulled a zipper-sealed plastic bag, sandwich-sized, from his jacket pocket and dropped it in the center of the table. The bag contained about a quarter of a cup’s worth of fine, white powder.

Chapter 13
 

Dion lunged forward
and grabbed the bag from the center of the table. His effort caused a button to pop off the chest of his too-tight purple shirt.

Grinning, he said, “Benji, you sly dog. Cocaine? The Peruvian Marching Powder has been the downfall of many. Since when did you take up the booger sugar?”

As everyone else looked around in confusion, Dion opened the seal on the bag, licked his finger, and stuck it into the white powder.

Benji let out a startled cry and ran around the table. He grabbed Dion by the wrist before he could lick all the dust from his finger, then plunged Dion’s hand into a nearby pitcher of ice water. Dion howled and yanked his hand free, their movements knocking over the pitcher.

Dion lunged for the plastic bag again, and Benji tackled him bodily. The two wrestled, rolling around on the gleaming new hardwood until Butch and Christopher separated them.

Franco didn’t bother getting up from his chair until the end of the scuffle, to take a photo.

Meanwhile, Marie had seized the plastic bag, using two cloth napkins as gloves. She re-sealed the bag, then held it gingerly.

She scolded Benji. “How dare you bring a bag of coke to my beautiful resort?”

“That’s not coke,” he said.

“Then what is it? And why did you jump all over Dion for trying to taste it?”

“Because he could have died.” Benji pulled himself away from Christopher’s hold on him.

“That’s the contaminant,” I said.

Everyone turned to face me. I almost laughed at the trusting looks on their faces. Suddenly, I was the expert on whatever Benji had in his pockets, all because of a few keen observations I’d made earlier.

Since I had the stage, so to speak, I stood and continued, “That’s the same substance that poisoned a batch of Rainforest Delight. Marie, you hang onto that bag. Make sure it’s sealed and don’t inhale any of the dust. Benji, we’ll give it back to you, but first you need to answer a few questions. First of all, why did you bring the powder here?”

“For safekeeping.”

I nodded. “Fair enough. Second question: How did the powder get into the Rainforest Delight?”

Benji circled around the table and took his seat again, next to me. “By accident,” he said. “One of the workers at the plant spilled a bag of vitamin mix and decided to replace it with one of the bags in my office, rather than get in trouble with the shift supervisor.” He put his face in his hands. “I was so stupid, leaving my office unlocked.”

I glanced around at the others, who looked stunned and curious, as well as more than happy to let me continue the questioning.

“Third question: What is it?”

Benji crossed his arms. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

He held out his hand and gestured for Marie to return the bag. She looked to me for guidance.

Benji said, “I’ll answer your third question, but that’s all, and only if you give it back to me for safekeeping.”

Christopher jumped in. “Speaking of safekeeping, we could call the police and get them up here.”

“No,” Marie said. “Benji’s too soft for prison. I’ll dump this whole bag down the sink if anyone so much as dials the number nine.”

Butch walked over to stand next to his wife. “We don’t want any controversy associated with the resort. Do you have any idea what a scandal would do to our opening?”

Christopher made a face. He looked as if he had a lot to say and was fighting to keep it down.

Marie leaned across the table and placed the bag in Benji’s hand. “Answer the third question,” she said softly. “What’s the white powder?”

Benji tucked the bag into his pocket, licked his lips, and said, “Toadanhydrotetrodotoxin.”

Jessica stared across the table at him with her blue eyes wide open. “Toad-and-hydro-tet-tet-what now?”

“Toadanhydrotetrodotoxin,” Benji said. “I’ve been calling it TDX for short.”

Dion said, “I know that drug. It’s used for a variety of treatments, from psychotropic therapy to painless euthanasia. It’s extracted from the venom of animals… who live on the planet Toadonx.”

Everyone looked around the table and began talking at once.

Planet Toadonx?

“You geek,” Dion said, laughing. He picked up the button that had popped off his purple shirt and tucked it into a pocket.

Jessica said, “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Dion explained, “We all loved reading this one sci-fi series,
Tales from Planet Toadonx
. I remember reading the paperbacks in the treehouse.” He laughed some more. “Good one, Benji. You totally got me. If that had been actual TDX, and you’d let me eat it, I’d be in big trouble right now.”

Franco said, “You would try to steal someone’s spaceship and get yourself shot with a phase pistol.”

Marie said, “Was that the one with the big worms, in the sand?”

Dion said, “You’re thinking of Dune, which was more focused on politics and betrayal, and not nearly enough space battles and explosions.”

I returned to my seat and turned to Benji. “Why are you messing with us? This isn’t funny.”

“Actually, this is quite funny,” Benji said as he patted his pocket. “It’s just icing sugar. I was hoping to trick Dion into snorting a line of it later, but this was so much better.”

“You’re a bigger jerk than Franco,” I said.

He pretended to be hurt.

Once everyone had settled down from Benji’s prank with the bag of icing sugar, Marie invited us to the lodge’s recreation room. We were slow to rise from our chairs, full from our meal, but she promised us hand-made chocolates, so that got us moving.

Compared to the dining room, with its high ceiling and huge windows, the recreation room was a cave, with its low ceiling and dark, windowless walls. Even the smell was different—musty and ancient.

“We’re in the original hunting lodge,” Marie said. “This room’s next on the renovation list.”

Butch said, “But we’re not changing much. This is a man’s room, and it’s staying that way. There’s a gym on the other side of that wall, so we might put in a door, but that’s it.”

Christopher walked over to one of the room’s two pool tables and lifted up the dust cover. “These tables look vintage,” he said. Dion, Franco, and Della started uncovering the second table.

Butch said, “Those pool tables are original to the old rustic lodge, and as solid as the mountain we’re currently tucked inside.”

Jessica asked, “We’re inside the mountain?”

A sly smile stretched across Butch’s face as he craned his neck to look up.

We followed his gaze. Instead of a normal-looking ceiling, above us was solid rock, smooth enough that it hadn’t caught my eye at first. We were inside a cave. Below us was a regular flat floor, covered in a dark carpet, and the gray-brown walls on four sides were flat and man-made, but we were definitely inside the mountain.

“Wild,” Jessica said. “We’re in a cave. Like bats.”

Marie said to her husband, “See? We need better lighting in here, at the very least, so people can appreciate where they are.”

Butch snorted. “You don’t have to control everything. You’ve got your million-dollar kitchen, and your fancy glass chandeliers. If you ask me, the guests want to see something rustic at a lodge, like wood or antlers, but I’m too nice and I always let you have your way.”

“You let me have
my
way?” Her face grew red and her voice rose higher. “Excuse me, but who put up the money for this place? Not you.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “You’d rather see all my hopes and dreams destroyed before you’ll even consider asking your family for help.”

Christopher swooped in like a vulture at the mention of help and money. “What’s wrong? How can I help?”

I gave him a dirty look as I put my arm around Marie’s shoulders protectively. “Let’s go put on some coffee,” I said to her gently. “Plus you mentioned something about chocolates.”

“Go ahead,” Butch said to her. “Your friends can play a game of pool while I get the sound running on the karaoke system. By the time you get back, I’m sure Della will be treating us to the concert of a lifetime.”