An Unthymely Death (25 page)

Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and I was taking advantage of a lull in business at the shop to write my annual love letter to McQuaid. I’d just picked up the pen when the door opened and a blond, thin-faced man came in. He walked through the shop, glancing around, as if to make sure that we were alone. I frowned, not liking the furtive way he hunched his shoulders. Thyme and Seasons has never been held up, but there’s always a first time. I was reaching for the phone, just in case, when he came closer and I recognized him.

“Jason Wagner!” I exclaimed, putting the phone down. “I didn’t recognize you. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve seen one another. Have you been out of town?”

Jason Wagner is a long-time friend of McQuaid’s. He works in the computer lab at Central Texas State University, where McQuaid teaches courses in the law enforcement program. Every now and then, the three of us get together at Bean’s Bar and Grill for barbecue and a game of pool. Ruby joins us sometimes, too, since she’s known Jason since their high school days.

“No, I haven’t been out of town,” Jason said soberly. “I guess we just haven’t been hanging out in the same places.” He wasn’t smiling, and his gray eyes had a bleak look.

I frowned. “Excuse me, but is there something wrong?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. That’s why I came.” He dropped his voice. “Do you know Kaye Kennedy?”

Pecan Springs is a small town—of course I know Kaye Kennedy. “She’s the woman you’ve been dating,” I replied. Kaye is also a trainer at the gym where Ruby Wilcox and I occasionally work out. I’d always wondered about the relationship, which seemed a little like a mismatch. Jason is slender and shy and very sweet. Kaye is—well, she’s a strong woman. Strong and assertive, with a habit of going after what she wants.

“Was dating,” Jason amended. “Put that into the past tense. About three months ago, I started going out with somebody else, and it’s been getting . . . well, serious.” He grinned crookedly. “I told Kaye right away, of course. She didn’t take it very well, and she wouldn’t give up. She hangs around and—” He paused uncomfortably. “To put it bluntly, China, she’s stalking me.”

“
Stalking
you?” I asked, startled.

“Well, I guess that’s the right word.” He sounded embarrassed. “In the evenings, she sits in her car down the block, watching my apartment. She calls up in the middle of the night, and when I answer, she hangs up.”

“If she hangs up,” I asked reasonably, “how do you know it’s Kaye?”

“The first time she called, she said—” Jason looked away. “What she said wasn’t very nice.” He swallowed. “To tell the truth, China, this stuff is really getting on my nerves. I’m not exactly afraid for myself—I can probably handle her. I’m more worried that she might try to harm my girlfriend.”

Knowing Kaye, it wasn’t hard to picture her doing what Jason described. And it wasn’t difficult to imagine her pushing it just a little further—a little too far, in fact. But there was only Jason’s word for it. I defended a man once against a harassment charge that turned out to be phony. The woman involved, who simply wanted to get him into trouble, was charged with making a false accusation.

“Stalking is a felony offense,” I said firmly. “You need to talk to the police. But you’ll need more evidence than a few hang-up phone calls. Real evidence, I mean.”

“I don’t want to get Kaye in trouble,” Jason said uneasily. “Actually, I was hoping I could persuade you to . . . well, to talk to her. You’ve been a lawyer, China. You’d know what to say to convince her that she has to cut this stuff out.”

I could understand where Jason was coming from, and I sympathized. But this wasn’t the way to handle it. “I’d like to help,” I said, “but you need to talk to her yourself, Jason. Warn her, and document your warning with a letter listing the dates and times that you’ve seen her sitting in her car. And make a log of those phone calls. Tape them, if you can. If she keeps it up, go to the police and file a complaint.”

His shoulders slumped. “I suppose you’re right. Thanks anyway, China.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Hey, how about getting together for dinner at Bean’s one night? I’d like you and Mike—and Ruby, too—to meet my girlfriend.”

“Sure,” I said in an enthusiastic tone, trying to pep him up. “Would Friday work for you? I’ll check with Ruby to see if she’s free.”

“Friday would be great,” he said, and raised his hand. “See you then. Meanwhile, happy Valentine’s Day.”

The next day, after we closed the shops, Ruby and I exchanged our annual handmade Valentine’s gifts. She gave me a heart-shaped red bowl filled with rose potpourri, and I gave her a potted chocolate mint plant, decorated with a pair of chocolate hearts and tied with a red ribbon. We were exchanging thank- you and you’re-welcome hugs when McQuaid opened the door and came in.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Ruby said. She gave him a concerned look. “Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

“I’ve just come from the hospital.” McQuaid pushed back a shock of dark hair and turned to me. “Jason Wagner is in pretty bad shape. He’s in a coma.”

“A coma!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

“The doctor says it was a heroin overdose,” McQuaid replied glumly.

“Jason OD’d?” Ruby was shocked. “I never would’ve guessed that he’d do drugs.”

“It’s hard for me to believe, too.” McQuaid’s eyes were sad. “Jason’s a health nut. He works out at the gym every day, and he’s always careful about what he eats. I just can’t understand why he’d do something like this to himself.”

I was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. “Jason came into the shop yesterday,” I said slowly. “He was having some trouble. He asked me to help, but I told him it was something he needed to handle himself.”

“Trouble?” McQuaid frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

“Girl trouble, I’ll bet,” Ruby said darkly.

“What makes you think that?” I asked. Ruby is uncannily intuitive and she often sees things that other people overlook.

“I’ve noticed Kaye Kennedy hanging around him at the gym,” Ruby replied. “He tries to brush her off, but he doesn’t seem to have much luck. You know Jason. He’s not very assertive. And Kaye—” She shrugged. “She doesn’t take no for an answer.”

“That’s true,” I replied thoughtfully. “When she wants something, she goes for it.”

Ruby was eyeing me. “You don’t suppose—”

 

“Of course not,” I scoffed. “Kaye may be upset because Jason broke up with her, but she’d never do a thing like
that.
Suppose he died? It’d be murder.”

“A thing like what?” McQuaid looked from one of us to the other, scowling. “Murder? What are you two talking about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Ruby said hastily. “We were just . . . weren’t we, China?”

“Yeah, right.” I pushed back my chair and stood up. “Did I understand that my husband is taking us both out to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

Ruby shook her head. “I’m invited to a party. You guys go out and have a romantic candlelight dinner, just the two of you.”

“Romance,” I said. “Great idea.” I looked at McQuaid, thinking how nice it would be to drive down to San Antonio, where there’s a wonderful little French restaurant. “Where shall we eat?”

“How about Bean’s Bar and Grill?” McQuaid grinned. “I sure could get romantic over a plate of Bob’s fajitas. And maybe we could shoot some pool afterward, huh?”

I made a face. Fajitas and pool at Bean’s, with the jukebox playing “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys” in the background. Not exactly what I had in mind for a romantic dinner.

But McQuaid put his arm around me and nuzzled my ear. “Just kidding,” he said. “Remember that French place you like in San Antonio? We’ve got reservations there. Let’s go home and change, shall we?”

“Go to Jason’s apartment?” I stared at Ruby over my morning coffee. “You’ve got to be kidding, Ruby. If you think I’m going to risk arrest just so you can play Nancy Drew—”

“We won’t get arrested,” Ruby said in a reassuring tone. “It turns out that my friend Ginger manages the apartment complex where Jason lives. I ran into her at the party last night. I told her that he was in the hospital, and that you and I needed to feed his cat. She agreed to let us in.”

“His cat?” I frowned. “How do you know he has a cat?”

“If he doesn’t, we can lend him yours.” Ruby wrinkled her nose. “I told Ginger we’d be there on our lunch hour. Anyway, what are you worried about? I called the hospital. Jason’s condition remains the same. They’re still saying that he OD’d, so it isn’t a crime scene.” She took the last of Lila’s irresistible jelly doughnuts off the plate and began to nibble at it.

I sighed. When Ruby makes up her mind to do something, there’s no point trying to argue with her. Which is why, at twelve-fifteen that afternoon, I found myself unlocking the door to Jason Wagner’s three-room apartment, on the first floor of an apartment complex on San Jacinto. The place was unusually tidy, considering that a guy lived there, although the air was stuffy and the potted herbs on the windowsill—thyme, chives, and parsley—were desperate for a drink.