Death of a Batty Genius (Stormy Day Mystery #3) (11 page)

Benji gripped his cola can tight enough for it to crinkle. “The Volaré went to Mean Gene, at the junkyard.”

“When?” demanded Dion, getting more interested by the second. “And why? You know I would have bought it off you, man. Especially with that sweet stereo. I would have paid book value or better.”

Christopher jumped in to say, “You never sell a used car to a friend. Loan them a million dollars, sure, but never sell them a depreciating asset.”

Benji looked down at his scuffed shoes, avoiding eye contact. “The Volaré was written off. I had a fender bender, and twisted the frame.”

Franco interjected, laughing, “It was no fender bender. Listen, I was sworn to secrecy at the time, but the statute of limitations has got to be worn off.”

Benji said tersely, “Shut up, Franco.”

Franco didn’t shut up. Gleefully, he said, “This genius here, Benjamin Biggs the physics and chemistry whiz, our class valedictorian, was trying to park his car when he smashed it into the back wall of his own garage.”

Benjamin Biggs?
I knew that name.

Christopher straightened up and made eye contact with me. We both raised our eyebrows.

While the guys razzed each other about who was the stupidest of the gang, I raised my hand to get their attention.

“Excuse me,” I said to Benji. “Are you Benjamin Biggs, of Biggs Foods? The company that makes Rainforest Delight?”

Everyone fell silent. Benji’s nostrils flared and he glanced around as though marking the exits.

Cautiously, he said, “Guilty as charged. I am Benjamin Biggs.”

Chapter 12
 

The Rainforest Delight Outbreak
hadn’t just been the talk of Misty Falls, Oregon. Word had spread nationally, with outbreaks in several other states as well.

Jessica had read us the latest information during our long drive up to the lodge.

News outlets were reporting the hallucinogenic substance as an unspecified fungus. The public relations firm working for Biggs Foods kept issuing statements, hinting that the contaminant was something organic that had spontaneously shown up in one of the batches of Rainforest Delight. They claimed to be cooperating with the FDA, and said they were participating fully to discover the cause of the outbreak.

Everything about the company’s statements set off my lie detectors. They claimed to have no idea what the contaminant was, yet they had laid out a perfect connect-the-dots report, leading reporters to the fungus theory.

I hadn’t allowed myself to get too curious, because I didn’t think I would ever get access to the California processing plant or anyone at the company.

But now I was at a remote mountainside resort with none other than the owner of Biggs Foods himself, Benjamin Biggs.

Something similar must have been going through Jessica’s and Christopher’s minds as well. They watched him closely.

Benjamin Biggs became even more socially awkward, his hands moving jerkily across his suit jacket, over the left upper pocket in particular.

He said, “Judging by the way you three are looking at me right now, something is wrong.” He was breathing heavily. “You might even be familiar with my company’s smoothie product. I hope you’re not customers.”

Franco punched his geeky friend on the shoulder. “Dude, Dion wanted to call and warn you, but I wouldn’t let him. The redhead here had one of your drinks and climbed a tree. I saw the whole thing on the news.” He let out a mean laugh.

Benji wiped the sweat forming on his forehead. “I would have appreciated some warning.”

Franco, standing in the middle of the group, ran his hands over his silkscreened faux tuxedo and said, “Where’s the fun in that?”

Jessica exclaimed, “Fun?” She poked Franco on his back repeatedly, like a woodpecker at a skinny tree. “Hey, jerkface. If you think setting your friend up for a fight is
fun
, you’re a real piece of work.”

Franco turned around slowly, amused by Jessica’s feistiness. “Typical redhead,” he said with a lascivious grin. He grabbed her hand and raised it to his chest. “Now do the front. Rat-a-tat-tat. I kinda like it.”

“You’re gross.” She yanked her hand away.

I signaled for Christopher to grab her arm before she upgraded to punching him. He nodded and gently corralled her outside of the circle.

Della left Franco’s side to stand beside Jessica. “She’s right, Franco. Sometimes you go too far. Your friend Benji has enough problems without you two picking on him. You think you’re so funny, but your jokes are mean.”

Franco grabbed her wrist and tugged her back toward him roughly. He growled, “You love it when I’m mean.”

Della just rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone, ignoring him but remaining at his side.

Christopher walked Jessica over to me. He said, “Keep her away from Franco, will you?”

“For his safety, sure.”

The group divided, and Benji came over to join us.

With his head hanging, Benji said to Jessica, “I am so very, truly, deeply sorry. I apologize for Franco, but most importantly, I apologize for the Rainforest Delight.”

“Stuff happens,” she said calmly. “I’m no worse for wear, and neither’s Christopher. He had the other smoothie.”

Benji looked from Jessica to Christopher and back again. His body swayed unsteadily. He looked as if he might faint, or fall to his knees before them to beg forgiveness.

“We’re both okay,” Christopher said. “No need for any more problems. We’re all up here as friends of Butch and Marie. I don’t speak for Jessica, but, personally, I can get over a few hallucinations. When I was growing up, my parents didn’t let me off the leash that much, so it was actually an interesting experience.”

Jessica chimed in, “I’m over it as well. You seem like a nice enough guy, so I’m sure you didn’t do it on purpose.”

Benji choked out, “I didn’t. I swear.”

Franco called out from the other half of the divided group, “What’s next? A sloppy group hug? Benji
seems nice
to you, so he’s off the hook? No drama? No hair-pulling?”

Della reached up and tugged on Franco’s dark hair, where it fell over his eye like a wild horse’s forelock. “I’ll pull your hair, baby.”

He growled, “Is that so?”

“Sure, baby. But first you have to stop being a jerk to the other guests.”

“Or what?”

She made a spanking gesture.

Dion said to Franco, “Would you mind toning it down with my baby sister when you’re right in front of me?”

Franco stuck out his chest. “Get used to it.”

Dion glared at his business partner. “No need. It’s not going to last.”

“If you think that, then you don’t know your sister.”

“I know her better than you do. And I care about what’s best for her.”

Just then, Butch returned to the dining room to announce that dinner would be served as soon as we sat down. Between the news about Biggs Foods and all the bickering, I’d almost forgotten we were there to eat.

Christopher caught my eye. “Are you and I okay?”

“Of course we are. I’m sorry if I overreacted in the cave.”

“Good,” he said. “The three of us need to form a strong alliance if we’re going to make it through this dinner, let alone the whole three days.”

“Agreed,” Jessica said.

“Agreed,” I said, and we shook on it.

Butch clapped his hands and called out like a circus barker, “Places, everyone. Mind the place cards my wife has set out. Please take your assigned seat, and keep your arms and legs inside the ride until it comes to a complete stop.”

The central round table had been set with a gleaming white cloth and sparkling place settings. Overhead was a smaller version of the candy-colored glass chandelier we’d seen in the lobby.

We took our seats, adhering to the handwritten place cards. With five men and four women, the seating was mostly boy-girl-boy-girl, with me between two men, Franco and Benji.

Marie circled the round table, setting out individual plates of green salad decorated with citrus chunks, toasted almonds, and pomegranate jewels.

We began eating, and I angled my body away from Franco so I could talk to Benji. He seemed skittish, so if I wanted to get to the truth about the Rainforest Delight, I would need to bide my time and build up a rapport.

“So far, so good,” I said. “The salad, anyway. I’ve always loved pomegranates.”

Benji replied, “I guess this is the part of dinner where I ask you what you do for a living and pretend to be interested.”

“We don’t have to talk about our careers.”

“No, I think we should. I may be strange and geeky, but I can roleplay being a normal businessman, visiting a mountainside resort. That is what Marie wants.” He gave me a quick robotic smile before returning his attention to separating his salad into its different components—citrus in one pile, pomegranate seeds in another. In a sing-song voice, he said, “Tell me, what do you do for a living?”

“I run a gift shop, Glorious Gifts. The place has been around for years and years. I bought it from a woman who’s on a world cruise right about now.”

He replied, “What a fascinating coincidence. I don’t regret this conversation after all.”

I waited, unsure whether he was sarcastically mocking me, or genuinely interested.

He continued, “In my teen years, I had a part-time job working at Glorious Gifts. The pay was twelve percent better than working for my aunt and uncle at the B-Mart Stop and Shop, plus I enjoyed the diverse retail activities.” He finished sorting the salad and glanced up at me, his eyes trained on my mouth. “Tell me something. Did the store ever sell the last of those tiki heads with the red eyes, or are they still lurking in the stock room?”

“You know about the tiki heads?” I laughed, happy to be finding things in common. “Benji, give me your address and I’ll gladly put them in a box and ship them to you.”

He shied away from me. “Certainly not.” He turned his shoulder, signaling our conversation was over, and went back to sorting his salad.

I looked across the table, at Christopher and Jessica, who were both happily chatting with Della about her singing career.

For the next few minutes, I focused on eating my salad. The pomegranate seeds were tricky, and I had to chase them around the plate with my fork.

Marie came around to clear the salad plates. Butch was right behind her, dropping off plates with man-sized T-bone steaks, accompanied by double-baked stuffed potatoes.

The men let out a chorus of appreciative sounds. Even Jessica, who kept to a vegetarian diet except for occasional indulgences, made cavewoman grunts over the seared beef.

“You can thank Cousin Butch for the T-bones,” Butch said.

In unison, Jessica and I said, “Thank you, Cousin Butch.”

He beamed proudly. “This lodge is going to be a success. I can feel the love in the air. Now, dig in, everyone.”

Marie warned the group, “But not too fast. We’re a long way from any medical help, and we don’t want anyone choking.”

Jessica said, “Don’t worry, Marie. With the way my brothers used to wolf down their food, I was doing the Heimlich maneuver once a week.”

My T-bone steak was delicious to the last morsel. I’d worried it was too much dinner for me, but a good portion was bone, plus I snuck a few bits into my purse for my cat.

After Butch and Marie had cleared the dinner plates and left for the kitchen, Franco leaned back in his chair and reached around me to poke Benji on the shoulder.

“I know your secret,” Franco said.

At the mention of a secret, my ears couldn’t help but tune in.

“It’s not a secret anymore,” Benji said. “The whole Biggs Foods empire went from a valuation of five million to zero, overnight. I’m broke. If you want to kick me while I’m down, get in line.”

Franco said, “Not about that, genius. I know about the fender bender with your Plymouth, and why you swore me to secrecy. I just put it all together.”

His voice cold and hard, Benji said, “Stay out of that matter. Trust me.”

“You’re bluffing, and you were never a good bluffer. That’s why we loved playing poker with you.”

“Let this one go,” Benji said. “Can’t we make one last memory with the gang all together without you ruining it?”

“One last memory? What do you mean? Is someone dying? Are
you
dying?”