Ladle to the Grave (A Soup Lover's Mystery Book 4) (23 page)

L
UCKY PULLED TO
a stop in the parking lot of the Snowflake Resort. Too late for winter tourists and too early for summer visitors, the lot was virtually empty. Only a few cars were parked in the spacious area. She had decided to take a detour on her way back to the Spoonful. If she couldn’t do anything for Jack, she could at least try to help Sophie by attempting to talk to Rick once more. She was also hoping that if she applied some pressure, Rick might break down and tell her the real reason he was in Snowflake. She suspected he knew much more than he was saying about his partner’s murder, probably much more than he had told Nate at the police station.

She pushed through the revolving door, a space large enough to accommodate more than one traveler and several suitcases. A woman in her thirties in a black suit jacket and a white business shirt manned the reception counter. Lucky had planned to go directly to Rick’s room, but then it occurred to her that his room might have been changed after the discovery of the man in the creek. The clerk looked directly at her and smiled a professional, welcoming smile. Lucky didn’t recognize her. She wasn’t a resident of Snowflake—of that she was sure—but then, the Resort hired people from all over the country, people experienced in hotel work and management. The Resort had become a city unto itself. Today, there were no crowds among which she could hide herself. There was no option but to approach the front desk.

“I’m here to see Rick Colgan.” Lucky smiled. “I believe he’s in Room two-six-nine.”

The woman’s eyebrows raised. “Well, actually, you’re in luck. He’s having lunch in the Mont Blanc Room right now.” She smiled again. “You can catch him there.” The woman at the desk had managed not to deny or confirm Rick’s actual room number.

Lucky thanked her and turned away. The Mont Blanc was a high-end restaurant, with prices she could hardly afford herself. It would have rivaled the most expensive restaurant in any big city. She followed the sign to the restaurant down a short corridor and pulled the heavy carved door open. A maître d’s desk was directly in front of her. Another woman wearing a similar outfit of a black business suit looked up and smiled. Before Lucky could approach the desk, she spotted Rick at a table by a large window that overlooked a view of the mountain.

But Rick wasn’t alone. Tom Reed sat across from him and one of the attorneys who had attended the meeting with Sophie. She smiled at the hostess and apologized.

“Sorry. I was looking for someone but he seems to be busy. I’ll wait in the lobby.”

The woman nodded in acknowledgment.

Lucky retraced her steps and headed for a comfortable armchair that gave her a view of the restaurant’s entrance. As she passed a display of brochures, she picked up one that described services offered at the Snowflake Resort. She sat and opened up the brochure. In an effort to appear casual, she pretended to read it avidly. She could feel the desk clerk’s eyes on her, but studiously avoided looking up and catching the woman’s eye. After ten minutes or so, she heard voices at the end of the corridor as the door to the restaurant opened. Rick Colgan and Tom Reed stepped out and stood by the doorway for a moment or two. They were followed by the third man. All three lingered in the hallway for a few minutes more, then shook hands all around. Rick headed for the lobby while Reed and the attorney walked away in the opposite direction. Rick seemed distracted and took no notice of her sitting in the armchair.

He was heading straight for the exit. She hopped up and followed him. She immediately felt a twinge in her back. Her muscles were still hurting from the accident. She stopped and took a deep breath, willing her muscles to relax. Walking more slowly, she pushed through the revolving door and was just able to catch up with him as he stood under the awning of the entrance.

“Rick!” she called out as she exited from the heavy glass revolving door.

He turned, surprised. “Lucky. What are you doing here?”

“Well, actually, I was hoping to see you.”

“Ah,” he said. “Let me guess. My sister sent you.”

Lucky shook her head. “She didn’t. She doesn’t even know I’m here.” She took a deep breath. “But you must know why I wanted to see you.”

“I figured. Here, let’s grab a seat. I can’t stay long.”

“Are you working?”

“Sort of,” he replied vaguely.

“The woman you were hired to locate. What was her name? Washburn? Is she here in Snowflake?”

Rick’s jaw clenched. He avoided her question. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, first questions first. If you’re not interested in selling, how come you’re having lunch with Tom Reed and one of his crew?”

He smiled slowly. “’Cause they’re paying for my lunch at a very expensive restaurant. Why not string them along?”

“Look, I don’t think you’re being stubborn just to hurt Sophie. But why won’t you give her an answer about the house?”

“I wanted to see what they’re offering first.”

“And?”

“And they were decidedly lukewarm about it. In fact, they really don’t have an interest in the parcel the house is on. They want the other acreage. I was just curious to see how far they were willing to go. It doesn’t matter, though. I’m not selling. She won’t sell the house and I won’t sell the other land.”

“But why, Rick? Why do you want to keep it? I don’t understand.”

His face hardened. “You wouldn’t.”

“Can you see yourself returning to Snowflake someday?”

“Never. Too many ghosts. Too many memories—all bad.”

Lucky sighed. “I’m not trying to bug you. I’m just trying to think of a solution that would keep both of you happy. This means everything to your sister. You can’t imagine how much it means to her. She wants to—”

“What? Re-create the family we never had?” he replied bitterly.

Lucky was taken aback by his vehemence. “Maybe. Maybe that’s exactly what she wants. Why shouldn’t she have that?” Lucky waited, but Rick did not respond. “I just don’t get it, Rick. What’s the issue? You don’t want to stay here. You don’t want to come back. Why are you so insistent on not selling?

“This really isn’t any of your business, Lucky.”

“Sophie is my friend. That makes it my business. I don’t want to pry; I just don’t understand why you won’t give her a straight answer about the house, at least. That’s all she really cares about.”

“Look, there’s no happy here. I had to identify my partner’s body a few days ago. He was murdered, Lucky. And he was murdered up there on that land. He didn’t wash down from somewhere else. That damage to his face was deliberate. Somebody didn’t want him identified. And I think I know who. He was on my mother’s property to do me a favor and somebody killed him.”

“If you’re convinced the Resort had something to do with that, why are you still staying here?”

Rick laughed mirthlessly. “Safest place in the world for me. They’re not gonna want any dead bodies found in the hotel. But that’s not why I’m still here. I’ve got a lot of questions I need answers to.”

“Like what?”

Rick’s face shifted. “I learned a few things yesterday. There’s a local woman who died. You know anything about that?”

“A little.” Their conversation had taken an abrupt turn. “Why?”

“How did she die?”

Lucky hesitated to give Rick information unless she got something in return, but some instinct urged her to be open with him. “She had a heart attack.”

“Oh.” Rick seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.

“But they’re also suspecting she might have been poisoned.”

Rick’s face paled. He leaned against the bench.

“Why are you asking?”

Rick hesitated, then finally began to speak. “Eddie kept a notebook. I got to see it yesterday at the station. I read his notes and, reading between the lines, figured out we were lied to about why our client was searching for Alice Washburn. Thing is, Eddie never told me. It was obvious to me that Eddie was worried when he figured out there was more to the story about locating Alice Washburn.”

“So Eddie was here to investigate?”

Rick nodded. “He volunteered to come up to give me his opinion about the land, but he never told me he had another reason for coming here. I think he was scared that he hadn’t checked our client out more thoroughly before he gave out the location of Alice Washburn, the woman he was looking for.”

“Does Nate know all this?”

Rick shook his head. “Eddie’s notes wouldn’t mean anything to Nate and I didn’t want to tell him what we’d done. It’s too late now anyway.”

“Are you saying Agnes Warner and Alice Washburn are one and the same? Who was your client?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Rick!”

He shook his head. “It’s better for you if you don’t know. I’ve said too much.”

“There’s something
you
should know. Somebody loosened the lug nuts on one of Sophie’s wheels.”

Rick’s eyes hardened. “What? Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. I was driving it. My car was in the shop.”

“I gotta talk to her. She’s not safe here anymore.”

He stood suddenly and strode away, heading for the parking lot. Lucky was tempted to follow him but decided against it. She was terrified Rick might be right and that Sophie was in danger.

L
UCKY WALKED UP
the wooden front steps to the porch of the library. She glanced at her watch. She had a half hour left before she was due back at the Spoonful. She’d have to hurry.

She peeked through the front window before entering. Emily sat at the large desk in what was once the living room of the cottage, her head in her hands. Lucky immediately felt a wave of compassion. The events of the past week must have been a terrible shock, not just to Emily, but to all the women present. Her questions must have upset everyone she had talked to even more.

She knocked once and pushed open the door. Emily lifted her head instantly. “Lucky!”

“I’m sorry to bother you again,” Lucky said.

“You’re no bother. Come on in. I’m still so upset about Agnes. I know it’s been days but it doesn’t seem to get any better. I feel responsible. I keep thinking maybe I should have put a stop to Cordelia and her plans. Maybe if I had, Agnes would still be alive. I can’t quite process everything.”

Emily sat up straighter and pulled down the sleeves of her blouse, a brightly colored peasant shirt. Then she smoothed out her long denim skirt. Her gray hair was pinned up in a bun instead of the usual braid she wore. Several strands had escaped. “I’m sorry to rattle on. What was it you needed, dear?”

“I just wanted to talk to you again. I was wondering . . . how did this whole thing get started?”

Emily rubbed her temples. “I don’t really . . . It’s hard to explain.”

“Try me.” Lucky sat in a chair near the desk.

“Well, it all started as sort of a women’s group, meeting here at the library. One night we got talking about the Stones and the travelers who were in town last autumn.”

Lucky nodded. She knew Emily was referring to the Neolithic stones on the hill above the town, one of many well-known structures that dotted the New England landscape and defied solid explanation.

“I guess that was our inspiration. And then . . . somebody brought up the subject of religion and how all the institutions are so dominated by men, how there are no matriarchal-based religious beliefs anymore and there should be. And then someone else referred to the end of April ceremonies in northern climates and how it’s a holdover from a pagan ritual.”

Lucky listened silently, willing Emily to continue.

“Cordelia Rank . . .” Emily hesitated. “Well, we all know how forceful Cordelia can be.” She smiled slightly. “Cordelia decided that we should all take part in a May Day celebration, honoring the earth. It all seemed so harmless.” Her voice choked.

Lucky reached out and held Emily’s hand. “I’m sorry to make you go through this again.”

Emily sniffed. “It’s all right. I’ll probably be playing this over in my mind for a long time to come.” She continued. “Well . . . someone else decided to do a little research and find out what people did on May Day, or the eve of the day. And we learned about Walpurgis Night and the celebrations in many countries. So, that’s how it all came to be. It just seemed like it would be so much fun. A bit of an adventure, you know?” She took a shaky breath. “But it wasn’t. It was horrible. And we still don’t even know what happened for sure.”

A door closed in the back of the cottage. Emily looked up as Greta came into the room. She arranged her expression in an attempt to seem calm. “Oh, Greta. I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I just wanted to finish repairing that last stack of books in the workroom,” Greta said.

“You remember Lucky, don’t you?” She nodded her head in Lucky’s direction.

“Yes, of course. I picked up her books the other day.”

Lucky turned to Emily. “Greta and I actually live in the same building. And Greta came to my apartment the other day.” Lucky shot a meaningful glance in Greta’s direction. “Didn’t you, Greta?” There was no doubt in Lucky’s mind that Greta had snatched one of the photos from her coffee table.

“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Emily smiled politely.

Greta’s eyes widened. “Uh, yes,” she stammered. Lucky was sure the meaning behind her words was not lost on Greta. “See you tomorrow, Emily,” Greta replied as she hurried to the front door.

Emily turned back to Lucky and whispered, “I know Greta’s such an odd duck and she’s not the easiest person to deal with at times, but I’d be lost without her, especially this past week. It’s been very difficult to come in, but I’m better off coming to work, I suppose. Otherwise, I’d probably just sit at home and think about what happened.”

“How was this ritual arranged?”

“Well, as I think I told you, Cordelia wanted twelve women, thirteen in all, including herself. But we only had seven as it turned out—actually, six. That’s why Greta was commandeered to join us. Cordelia had given everyone very clear instructions as to what to wear and how to form the semicircle around the altar. Agnes prepared the altar and we changed into our robes and then . . .”

“Agnes prepared the altar?”

“Uh, why, yes.”

“What did that involve?”

“Well, she got the fire started and laid everything out on that big slab of stone, the ladle and the cauldron and the bowl and all. Then we all formed a sort of semicircle around Cordelia, and Cordelia was doing her invocation to Mother Earth, I think, and then . . .” Emily trailed off, a faraway look in her eye. “I just thought of something I hadn’t thought of before. I think Greta was first in the circle. I thought it was Agnes who was supposed to go first, but it wasn’t. It was Greta.”

A chill ran up Lucky’s spine. “
Greta
was supposed to go first? Not Agnes?”

“I’m trying to remember. I hadn’t thought about it before now. I guess I was just too upset. But yes, I think that’s right. I think it was supposed to be the first woman on Cordelia’s left. But then Agnes stepped forward and took the bowl from Cordelia. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it was the person who prepared the altar who was supposed to go first and Greta was just standing in the wrong place.” Emily rubbed her forehead. “Oh, I can’t remember it all now. Everything happened so fast. I’m sure Greta would remember.” She looked up. “Have you heard anything about the autopsy results, Lucky? Do they know what Agnes died of?”

Lucky was forced to deliberately lie. “No, I haven’t.” She had no intention of letting Elias’s information spread through town. In spite of wanting to take the pressure off Jack, she wasn’t willing to volunteer any information about Agnes’s cardiovascular problems.

She checked her watch. “Oh, Emily, I better get back. Sorry to cut this short.”

“That’s quite all right, Lucky. In a way it feels better to talk about it. That night is on my mind all the time anyway.”

Lucky said good-bye and walked slowly down Elm Street on her way back to the Spoonful. She had every intention of confronting Greta about the photograph as soon as she caught up with her alone. Was it possible Greta Dorn was Rick and Eddie’s client? That she had hired them to locate Alice Washburn? And was Agnes Warner not who she claimed to be? Was Alice Washburn in fact Agnes’s true identity? It had been worth the trip to the library even if she had learned only one fact. If it was indeed true, that Greta was intended to be the first in the circle to drink the wine, what would have happened to her if that had been the case? Assuming Greta was healthy, would she have had a reaction to the wine? Would she have displayed symptoms so quickly? If Agnes had prepared the altar, had she added a toxic substance to the wine? But how would she have managed to do that under Cordelia’s eagle eye? And if she had, she certainly wouldn’t have chosen to be the first to drink. Had Greta been the intended target? Lucky’s head was spinning. She couldn’t work it out and wondered if everyone’s memories of the incident were foggy or just plain wrong.

*   *   *

T
HE LUNCH RUSH
had ended by the time she reached the Spoonful. She quickly dropped her purse under the desk in the office and tied on an apron as she headed down the hall to the front room. She stifled a quick feeling of guilt over leaving Jack and everyone to deal with the crush.

“Oh, there you are!” Meg said as she came behind the counter.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to leave you shorthanded. Just had to take care of a few things.” She glanced over at the cash register. “How’s Jack doing?”

“Okay, I think. He’s been pretty quiet, but we were fine,” Meg said. “Where did you get off to?”

“Oh, some errands for Sophie’s wedding and such. And then I stopped at the library to talk to Emily.” Lucky deliberately didn’t mention her conversation with Rick Colgan.

“Oh,” Meg said. Lucky was sure Meg knew why she had been talking to Emily.

Lucky turned around and peeked through the hatch to the kitchen. Sage looked up and waved to her.

“Sophie’s not here?” she asked him.

“Any minute. She had some errands to run too.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Lucky heard the back door slam. Sophie popped into the kitchen a moment later, tying an apron around her waist.

Lucky pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “Have you contacted your insurance company?”

“Yes.” Sophie wiped imaginary perspiration from her brow. “We’re covered. Still have to find a car, but thanks to Sage, he made sure both our cars were covered for theft and collision.”

“Well, I don’t want you to worry. I have some money saved up, so whatever the difference is, I’m chipping in. No arguments.”

Sage shook his head. “No way. We’re fine, Lucky. Really we are.”

Lucky started to protest, but Sophie cut her off. “Uh-uh. No, you’re not. I’m just glad you’re alive. If anything had ever happened to you, I couldn’t handle it. It’s just a hunk of metal. The important thing is that you’re all right.”

“Well, the offer’s still good. So I don’t want you two to have more of a burden, what with the wedding and all.”

Sophie came around the worktable and hugged her. “Thanks, we appreciate that, we really do, but no need. Besides, you’re covering the cost of rentals and decorations and music for the wedding, which is already far too generous of you. So stop worrying about it.”

“It’s not a lot, believe me. Besides, that’s a joint present from me and Jack, and Elias is chipping in too, so it’s no burden.” Lucky chose not to argue about the car, but she didn’t intend this to be the last discussion. If someone had deliberately tampered with Sophie’s car, there was no way to know which of them was really the target. She didn’t want to tell Sophie she had gone to the Resort to reason with Rick, and she sincerely hoped Rick was wrong in his fear for Sophie’s safety. She hoped Rick would talk to Sophie soon and warn her to be careful.

She returned to the counter and cleared away dishes and replaced the settings with napkins and silverware. Jack was at the cash register. His face looked drawn, and he hadn’t said a word since she’d arrived. She walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. “How are you doing today?”

“Hangin’ in, my girl,” he said without looking up. As she turned to go back to the counter, a figure on the sidewalk outside caught her eye. It was Leonard Warner. She stiffened. Jack followed her look and stared back.

“What’s he doing?” Lucky asked.

Jack shook his head and turned back to the cash register. “He was out there earlier. Just stood on the sidewalk and stared in, like he’s doin’ now.”

“Intimidation. That’s what it is,” she said. “I’m putting a stop to this.” She opened the front door and looked at Leonard. “What is it, Leonard? What do you want?”

Leonard continued to stare through the glass at Jack. “I want him to admit what he’s done.”

“Okay. That’s enough. Don’t think these tactics will work with us. You’ll have to leave . . . right now. I won’t have you standing outside trying to freak Jack out and scaring our customers away.”

“It’s a free sidewalk. I’ll stand here as long as I like.” He turned to her slowly, a fierce light in his eyes. Lucky wondered if this tragedy had affected his mental balance. “If your grandfather has a guilty conscience, he has no one to blame but himself.”

“Well, I hate to disillusion you, but he doesn’t, and neither do I, and emotional blackmail won’t work. You be gone now or I’m calling Nate Edgerton.” As the words left her mouth she spotted Nate coming down Broadway in their direction.

Nate took in the confrontation and nodded to Lucky. He approached Leonard slowly. “Enough is enough, Leonard. This isn’t doing anybody any good, especially you. I want you to move on. Go home to your grandson and think about him.”

Leonard almost snarled as he turned on Nate. “I’m not going anywhere, Nate Edgerton. I demand you do something. Arrest that man right now.”

“Now, Leonard, calm down.” Nate’s voice became firmer. “I’m asking you again, nicely. I know you’ve been through a lot, but I’m warning you. I’m not about to arrest anybody until I have all the facts . . .”

“You can’t protect that old man forever. He should be in jail before he hurts anybody else.”

Nate shook his head. “I repeat. No one is going to be arrested. No one will be accused of anything until all the facts are in. And I’m not going to allow you to harass Jack Jamieson or anyone else. Do you understand?” Nate’s voice had changed timbre.