Ladle to the Grave (A Soup Lover's Mystery Book 4) (14 page)

L
UCKY HEARD HER
name called as she walked toward Elm Street and the library. Pastor Wilson from the Congregational Church was hurrying toward her. His thin sandy hair, blown by the wind, stood at attention. He wore a faded corduroy jacket with patches on the elbows and carried a stack of books.

He was breathless as he caught up. “Lucky! How are you? Are you on your way to the library, by any chance?”

“Yes. I’m taking a quick break from the restaurant. Are you headed there too?”

Pastor Wilson always had the air of having forgotten something essential and being on the verge of remembering what it was. He reached up and plastered his thinning hair over his head. The breeze immediately blew it up again.

“Could I ask a favor of you? I’m late for an appointment with a parishioner but I wanted to bring these books over to the library for their drive.”

“I’m on my way to see Emily, but I’m happy to take them.”

“Phew. That’s a relief. Thank you, my dear.” He lifted the stack into Lucky’s arms. “They’re heavy, I’m afraid.”

“No problem at all.”

“I’m not myself these days. Not after hearing about those women in the woods. A terrible thing! I don’t know what they were thinking. It’s not right. It’s just not right that they—and Cordelia of all people—should be dabbling in paganism. I was horrified when I heard about it! It’s an insult to organized religion! It’s downright . . .” Pastor Wilson looked as if he were about to splutter, becoming more agitated the more he spoke of it. “Barbaric. That’s what it is. Don’t you agree?” He looked intently at Lucky.

“Well, I think they were inspired by the travelers who were here last fall. I don’t think any of them were thinking of undermining anything.”

“Hmm. Well, I plan to have a word with Cordelia Rank in the very near future.” He drew himself up to his full height. Lucky tried to imagine Pastor Wilson arguing with the formidable Cordelia Rank. Unless she had underestimated his agitation on the subject, she didn’t think he’d stand a chance against Cordelia.

“Sorry, Lucky. I didn’t mean to bend your ear. I’ve just been so upset about all this. I do have to run, though.” He started to turn away and then turned back. “Oh, one other thing . . . Please remind Sophie and Sage they shouldn’t wait until the last minute to book my time. I need to arrange my schedule in advance, you know.”

“Oh.” Lucky sighed. Pastor Wilson must be certain he would be asked to perform Sophie and Sage’s wedding ceremony. She didn’t have the heart to tell him Sophie had arranged for a justice of the peace from Lincoln Falls. It had never occurred to Lucky, but now that she thought about it, Pastor Wilson would be devastated he hadn’t been asked to officiate. “I’ll mention it to both of them as soon as I can.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Must run.” He turned away and half walked, half ran down the street, his jacket flapping behind him. Lucky watched his loping stride until he turned the corner.

She shook her head, imagining Sophie’s reaction to this conversation. Why did weddings have to get so complicated? Shifting the stack of books in her arms, she turned around and walked the length of the block to the Snowflake Library. The small cottage home had been left to the town by its former inhabitants. Emily Rathbone, a retired teacher, manned the library most days with the help of various volunteers, the industrious Greta Dorn being the most recent of Emily’s helpers.

She entered and spotted stacks of gently used books on the long table in the front hallway. She called out, “Emily?”

“Back here,” came an answering voice.

Lucky followed the hallway to a rear room, once a bedroom, used now as a storeroom and mending workshop. Emily was seated at a table with glasses halfway down her nose, working on a torn binding under a strong light. She looked up quickly.

“Oh, Lucky! Hello. Good to see you.” Emily smiled.

“You look busy.”

“Not a problem. Come on in and have a seat. Just struggling with gluing this binding together.” She waved a hand in front of her nose. “So pungent, this glue. What can I do for you? Are those donations you have?”

“Yes. These are from Pastor Wilson. I ran into him on my way over. He was running late and had to head back.”

“Wonderful! Just give me a second and I’ll take them off your hands.”

“I actually came by because I was hoping you could spare a few minutes to talk about the other night in the woods.”

“Ugh.” Emily grunted. “Not that again.” She looked up. “I’m sorry. That’s not aimed at you. It’s just that I’ve gone over it and over it several times with Nate. And it was such a shock, I can tell you.”

“I can imagine.” Lucky heard a footstep behind her and turned to see who had come into the room. Greta stood on the threshold.

“Hi, Greta,” Lucky said. “I haven’t forgotten the drive. I’ve gone through some boxes in my closet and I’ll bring over some books you might be able to use.” Lucky stood. “These are from Pastor Wilson.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed. “That’s very generous of you.” She hesitated. “Anything else I can do today, Emily?”

“No. Thanks so much for organizing all that stuff. I’ll be around for a few hours, so you go on ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Greta seemed to waver in the doorway as though unsure she could trust Emily’s decision. Finally, she said, “All right. Tomorrow, then.” She turned away, her footsteps echoing down the hallway. The front door closed behind her.

“She’s such a big help. This library drive has been a lot of work, but we’ve added to our inventory. People have been wonderful about donating. Greta’s done most of the work. Trudging around town with flyers and picking up books.” Emily secured the book she was working on with a clamp. “There. That should do it. Lovely binding. What did you want to talk to me about?”

“It’s not just idle curiosity, Emily. My grandfather has been very worried that he might have made a mistake, giving Cecily the wrong plant that could have caused Agnes’s reaction. I’m positive he didn’t, but he’s been torturing himself with the thought. I just wanted to ask you if you know how the wine was brewed.”

Emily sighed. “Nate’s been asking the very same thing. You see, this was all Cordelia’s idea, really. And it did seem like something novel and fun to do. She had found a recipe for May wine which is used in May Day celebrations and she wanted to pass that around during our festivities.” Emily shot a quick look at Lucky. “Nothing really pagan, mind you—no bonfires or orgies—just rather a women’s gathering. We’ve been meeting here and reading up on goddess-based religions, so that’s sort of how the idea started. I think we were all inspired by the travelers and all the stories about the ancient stones.”

Lucky sat down on the chair by the worktable. “Did it seem as though Agnes was reacting to an allergen or poison of some sort?”

Emily stared off in the distance. “At first, I did think so. Her behavior seemed to have the earmarks of some sudden reaction. But then, I know stroke victims sometimes suffer vomiting. I’m not a scientist, so I really can’t say. I don’t even think the police or coroner knew for sure, although they were suspicious of it.”

“They’re analyzing the wine, aren’t they?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure they are.”

“How was it made, do you know?”

“Cordelia took care of that. She soaked the herbs in the wine overnight and then brought it with her to our . . . ritual. No one else, just Cordelia. I think the police took what was left of the wine that night. Cordelia’s very upset about this, as you can imagine.”

“But Cordelia . . . Wouldn’t she have been the first to drink?”

“No. I can’t remember the order we were supposed to be in. I was after Cecily and before Willa.”

“Willa?”

“Willa Persley. You might not know her. She lives up in Lincoln Heights.” Emily continued, “Anyway, we were all assigned our places so the cup would move clockwise. Cordelia decided she should be the”—Emily blushed slightly—“high priestess. This all sounds rather silly when I actually put it into words, but at the time, it seemed to fit the occasion.”

“So Agnes was the first to drink the mulled wine?”

“Yes. But, Lucky, no one could have planned to hurt Agnes. We were all prepared to drink the wine. Whatever plants Cecily brought were what Cordelia put in the wine to flavor it.”

Lucky sighed. This was getting her nowhere. Every question she asked seemed to get her right back to square one. No one but Cecily and Cordelia had access to Jack’s herbs, and she was sure neither woman would wish to harm Agnes Warner. She rose from her chair. “Thanks, Emily.”

Emily looked at her sympathetically. “I wish I could give you a better answer. Jack shouldn’t take this upon himself. It’s much more likely she had a reaction to some medication.”

Lucky turned to go and hesitated. She turned back. “One more question, Emily.”

“Yes?”

“Who were the other women there that night?” Lucky was afraid she was straining the librarian’s patience.

“I gave all the names to Nate.” Emily sighed. “Let me get you our roster. I guess there’s no harm in giving you one of these. All the women got one. This has all our names and addresses and phone numbers. Cordelia originally wanted twelve women plus herself to make thirteen, but unfortunately, we couldn’t get enough women interested in the group. So, it was only myself, Cordelia, uh, Cecily and the other four.” Emily turned and opened a side drawer in her desk and pointed to the names.

Lucky read it over Emily’s shoulder. In large lettering at the top it stated “
Snowflake Coven.
” Underneath that in slightly smaller lettering, “
Beltane Eve Celebration.
” A brief description of the rituals of May Day and Walpurgisnacht followed by a list of seven names, including Cordelia Rank at the top; the rest were alphabetized.

Lucky glanced over the information. Other than Emily, Cordelia, Cecily, Agnes and Greta, there were two other women whose names she didn’t recognize. “So Greta was also part of your group?”

Emily smiled. “She was. But under duress, you might say. She was commandeered to make a seventh. She really had no interest. I’m sure she thinks we’re all crazy.”

“And Willa is the one who lives in Snowflake, I see.”

“Yes. Lucinda Nolan’s from Lincoln Falls. She drives over occasionally for our meetings. I’m sure after this, we’ll never see
her
again.”

“Was Agnes close or particularly friendly with any of these people?”

Emily shook her head. “I don’t believe so. I’m not even sure I ever saw her chatting with anyone. And I’m sure Agnes never knew them before we all got together. I doubt she had time to make anyone’s acquaintance. That husband of hers was always in his car outside when the meeting drew to a close, and poor Agnes seemed terrified that she might be late and keep him waiting. Why are you asking?”

Lucky shook her head. “I don’t know, really. Do you think any of
them
could have tampered with the wine or with the herbs?”

“Oh, heavens, no. None of us touched anything. Cordelia brought the wine in a container and poured it into the cauldron herself. You’re thinking one of them might have had some ax to grind with Agnes?”

“I just think it’s strange, Emily. Agnes lived right outside of town for years, but I don’t know anyone who really knew her or was friendly with her.”

“Between you and me, I think that’s why she came to our women’s group. I think she was lonely. Looked to me like her husband ran a very tight ship. She always seemed afraid of her own shadow. She was out there with a little boy and her husband and nothing really to do all day except cook and keep house.” Emily thought for a moment. “Actually, I think there was something odd between Willa and Agnes. Willa made an effort to strike up a conversation with Agnes at one meeting, but Agnes was rather cold to her. I don’t know what that was about.”

“Interesting. Maybe I’ll try to have a chat with her.”

“What are you hoping to find out?”

Lucky ran her finger down the list of names. “I’m not sure. But I am curious.”

L
UCKY HAD RETURNED
to the Spoonful with more questions and fewer answers. If Emily was correct, none of the women present had a prior relationship with Agnes Warner. If she excluded Cordelia and Cecily, and Emily herself, that left three women who may have had access to the wine in spite of what everyone had sworn. And one of those might have had a grudge against Agnes. Lucky folded the flyer and stuck it into the pocket of her slacks. She grabbed a fresh apron and took over the counter from Janie.

“I just don’t get it, Lucky.” Sophie sipped her iced tea, twisting her legs around the stool at the counter.

“What’s that?” Lucky asked as she cleared away dishes and wiped down the counter.

“Why Rick was so squirrelly last night. I can’t help but suspect he’s working some deal with the Resort and I’m gonna get left out in the cold.” Sophie had arrived earlier that morning and had been helping Sage prepare orders all day. The dinner rush had just ended and now she was taking a well-earned break.

Lucky leaned over the counter. “Well, he can’t cut you out. You’re both heirs to that property, right? Any deal the Resort made would have to include you.”

“Yeees,” Sophie replied hesitantly. “But what if the Resort offers him a lot of money for the parcel the house is on, more than Sage and I could offer him?”

“Well . . .” Lucky thought for a moment. “Let’s say he sold his fifty percent interest in that parcel to them. In order to completely own it, you’d have to buy them out, right?”

“And they’d demand way more than I could pay.” She heaved a sigh. “This is making me very nervous. Rick is up to something.”

“You’re making this far too complicated. You could always trade for the land they want. They just want to extend the ski run; that’s the crux of the matter.”

“Right. Believe me, I know those ski runs like the back of my hand. And they need that land. They don’t need the acreage the house is on.”

Lucky leaned across the counter. “Sophie, what do
you
want to get out of this?”

“I just want to buy Rick out of the house and the land around it. I really don’t care about anything else. I want to be lighting a fire in my very own fireplace that my grandfather built. I couldn’t care less about what ski runs the Resort wants to carve out. And if I could get Rick to see reason, selling that would give both of us money. Sage and I could buy Rick out and we’d have plenty of money to remodel that house. The way things are, I’m stuck. Rick won’t give me a definite answer about anything. Why, I don’t know. It just doesn’t make any sense. And I refuse to sell the house and the land around it. Right now it’s a stalemate. Rick says he won’t sell that portion and I won’t sell the other.”

“Has he explained why he’s so adamant about that?”

“No. That’s just it. He shows up, no warning—after we think he might be dead. He disappears again and won’t return any calls. I’ve left messages for him up at the Resort. He’s ignoring me. I know he is.”

Lucky sighed. She didn’t want to voice an opinion, but Rick struck her as a very practical, no-nonsense sort of man. He must have a reason for his decision. Was he holding out for more money? Maybe there was some way she could talk to him—away from Sophie. Maybe she could get to the bottom of this and help a friend. He just might be more open with her than he would be with his own sister.

“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you,” Lucky said.

“What?”

“I ran into Pastor Wilson on my way to the library earlier. Sophie”—Lucky leaned across the counter—“he thinks he’s doing the honors at your wedding. He reminded me that you have to talk to him because he doesn’t want his schedule to fill up.”

“You are kidding me! Where did he ever get that idea? I haven’t even talked to him for months and months. I never even see him around. And I certainly don’t go to church.” Sophie groaned. “I can’t believe this. I’m getting a headache. Sage . . .” she called out. She spun off the stool and headed for the kitchen. A moment later Lucky heard murmurs from the kitchen. Sage was trying to calm Sophie down.

Lucky glanced up as the bell over the door jingled. Nate Edgerton. Her heart sank. Nate entered and glanced around the restaurant, his eyes lingering on Janie, who was at the cash register. Was he expecting to see Jack at his usual spot? Realizing he had Lucky’s full attention, Nate stepped in and took a stool at the counter.

“What can I get you, Nate?” Lucky did her best to smile. “We have a really nice carrot ginger soup, a chicken tortilla with a tomato base, and a shrimp tofu today.”

“Nothing, thanks, Lucky. I’m on my way home right now. I just stopped in hoping to see Jack. Is he here?”

Lucky shook her head. “He’s been at home all day. We had a little . . . episode this morning with Leonard Warner. Jack was pretty upset; he left right after.”

“What?” Nate looked concerned. Nate cared a great deal for Jack. They had become close when Nate’s father had died. Lucky knew he wouldn’t stand for anyone treating Jack badly. “What happened?”

Lucky grimaced. “Leonard came in and knocked some things over and accused Jack of killing his wife. It was a pretty bad scene.”

“Want me to have a word with Leonard?”

Lucky shook her head. “No. No need. We all jumped down his throat. Me and Barry. And Sage and Hank were ready to get involved if need be. Leonard finally left. I’m sure he’s all torn up. In spite of what happened today, I feel really bad for him.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. He had no business doing that.”

“I will, but I honestly don’t think he’d dare come back now.”

“About the autopsy, Lucky. I should probably tell you first before I go see Jack.”

“I know already, Nate,” she admitted. “I haven’t had the heart to tell Jack.”

“How . . .” Nate looked at her questioningly. “Oh, never mind. Elias?”

Lucky nodded. “He came over last night to give me a heads-up. Nate, I just can’t believe it. Jack really knows his plants. I just don’t believe he could have made any kind of a mistake. I’d be willing to bet somebody tampered with those plants.”

“We have nothing definite yet, so I’m not sure what to think either. Bottom line is Agnes died of a heart attack, but we still need to identify any possible toxin. If somebody wanted to harm Agnes, then we’re looking at a premeditated action.”

“You don’t think Jack . . .” Lucky didn’t continue.

“No, of course not.” Nate spluttered. “No way. But, Lucky, I’ve talked to everyone involved, and they all swear no one had a chance to touch that basket of herbs from the time it left Jack’s house until the time Cordelia poured the wine.”

“I know. I’ve heard the same thing.”

“But you don’t believe it?”

“I can’t believe it. If that’s true, that no one else touched it, and a toxic substance is found, then Jack has made a terrible mistake that might have led to someone’s death, and I don’t know how he’ll live with that.”

Nate nodded. “It could hit him hard. But don’t jump to any conclusions yet. First thing is to identify what the lab turns up; then we’d have to know if it could have been fatal. Maybe it led to her heart attack, but wouldn’t have caused a problem with a healthy person. I’ll be very kind, Lucky. Jack’s house will be my next stop.” He glanced at the kitchen hatch. “Is that Sophie I see?”

Lucky turned and looked into the kitchen. She nodded.

“Could I use your office for a few minutes? I’d like to talk to her in private.”

“Of course.”

Nate pushed through the swinging door to the corridor and gestured to Sophie to follow him.

Sage caught Lucky’s eye as if to ask what was happening. Lucky shook her head and shrugged to indicate she had no idea why Nate wanted to talk to Sophie.

A few minutes later, Sophie returned to the kitchen and Nate waved to Lucky as he left by the front door. Sophie leaned through the hatch. “Come in the kitchen for a sec, Lucky.”

Lucky nodded and pushed through the door. Sophie stood at the worktable. “I might as well tell you both at the same time. Nate got the DNA result. It was no match, of course, but Rick has identified his partner’s body.”

“How?” Lucky asked.

“Eddie had a unique tattoo. Rick was with him when he got it. That’s how he could be sure.”

“Whew,” Sage remarked. “That’s tough.”

“I know,” Sophie said. “Maybe that’s why he hasn’t gotten back to me.”

*   *   *

O
VER THE NEXT
few hours, Lucky filled several more orders at the counter, keeping an eye on the clock. As the sun set, she felt a mounting sense of anxiety. The restaurant wasn’t busy right now, although several customers still lingered. Hopefully Sophie could help her out. She had a gut instinct that she should head for Jack’s house and make sure he was all right. She walked into the kitchen where Sophie was seated on a stool, watching Sage add spices to a pot.

“What’s up, Lucky?” Sophie’s mood seemed much lighter. Sage had obviously calmed her down.

“Can you cover the counter for me in a little while? I want to check on Jack.”

“Oh, sure,” Sophie answered. “Are you worried about him?”

“I am.” Lucky took a deep breath. “I haven’t had a minute to talk to either of you today, but you should know.” She filled them in on the results of the autopsy to date.

“Oh no!” Sophie exclaimed. “That can’t be.”

“It’s not looking good, but there are no firm results yet. Don’t get me wrong. I still don’t believe Jack made a mistake. But Nate went to his house earlier, and if Jack hears this, it could just do him in. He was in tough shape after what happened with Leonard Warner this morning.”

Sophie climbed down from the high stool. “Go now. Don’t worry about the restaurant. Everyone’s here, except for Jack. We can take care of closing up if you need us to. We’ll be fine.”

“She’s right, Lucky. You go on. We’ll cover everything,” Sage said.

“You’re the best—both of you. Thank you!” She pulled off her apron and hurried down the hall to the office. She flung her apron over the chair and grabbed her purse, slinging it over her shoulder, then hurried out the back door.

*   *   *

W
HEN
L
UCKY REACHED
Birch Street and Jack’s front porch, she was dismayed to see the windows dark. Nate had undoubtedly come and gone, but where was Jack? She peered down the driveway. Jack’s car was parked in front of the garage, so he hadn’t driven anywhere. Could he have gone for a walk and not come back yet?

She rang the doorbell and knocked on the door. No answer. She peered through the glass of the front door but could see no light at the rear of the house. She kicked herself for not going back to her apartment where she kept an emergency key to Jack’s house. She didn’t want to intrude on his privacy, but if he was out, he’d never know she had used her key. There had to be another way. She hurried down the front steps and walked around to the rear of the house. She thought she heard noises as she stood on tiptoe and tried to peek through the kitchen window. The curtain was still open but the room was dark. She wasn’t able to see anything inside. Then she heard it, thumps and banging and Jack’s voice crying out. He was inside, somewhere in the dark. She had to find a way in.

Jack knew it was happening . . . again. This time he couldn’t seem to block out the screams. He was on the boat, rising and falling in the sea. The water was purple with blood and the smell . . . It was in his nose, in his eyes; he’d never be able to get rid of it. A hand reached up from the dark waters. Jack grasped it and held on with all his strength. Then the swift rush of a sleek monster, the quick glimpse of the shark’s fin, and the man was gone. He was grasping a disembodied arm. Jack screamed. The sharks! The sharks! While all around him were the cries of men being torn to pieces. He sobbed. He couldn’t help them, no matter how quick he was, no matter how strong. He wasn’t fast enough to save them.

Lucky hurried back to the window closest to the kitchen table. She knew the lock was broken. The window was shut tight, but if she could reach up, she was sure she could gain entrance. She pushed with all her strength. It wouldn’t budge. She didn’t have enough leverage from this position. She needed to get higher and closer to the window. She needed something to stand on.

She ran to the back garden and dragged a heavy wooden lawn chair around to the side of the house. Two windows and French doors looked out to Jack’s rear deck, a recent renovation, but Lucky knew those windows were secure, and she hoped not to have to break a windowpane to get in. Once the lawn chair was in place, she climbed onto the heavy arms. She was able to stand almost at the same height as the window. She reached up and pushed. The window resisted. Using the heel of her hand, she banged heavily on the wood frame. Moisture had caused it to stick. She pushed hard again and this time it shot open all the way. Balancing carefully on the back of the lawn chair, she threw her purse in ahead of her and climbed up. She slithered head first through the kitchen window, landing on her side on the floor. She stood and flicked on the kitchen light.

Jack’s moans were louder now. She reached the hallway and called his name. He was in the bathroom. She hit the light switch and knocked on the door. “Jack. It’s me. Open the door.”