Ladle to the Grave (A Soup Lover's Mystery Book 4) (7 page)

Lucky opened the window and leaned out. “What’s going on?” she called down to them.

Sage shook his head and shrugged. Sophie turned and looked up at the window.

“Hang on.” Lucky slammed the window shut and ran down the stairs. She pulled open the front door. “Was that you I heard?” she asked Sage.

He nodded. “There was a guy lurking on the other side of the street. Something about him . . . He was definitely watching us. I told Sophie to wait and I turned back to walk over to him. As soon as I did, he took off.”

“Strange.”

“I saw him too,” Sophie said.

“Did you get a good look at him?” Lucky asked.

“Nah,” Sage replied. “And he’s gone now. Go back inside, Lucky. Make sure that front door’s locked, okay?”

“I will.” She waved good night and climbed the stairs to her building, glancing around at the street. She usually never worried about her personal safety. Snowflake was such a quiet village where everyone knew one another. Everyday crime was almost unheard of here. Granted, there had been murders in the past, but there had been reasons for those. She shuddered as she climbed the stairs, remembering that two people had died under suspicious circumstances within the past two days.

N
ATE PULLED THE
cruiser to the side of the road and turned to Jack. “Is this where you were?” They had driven about half a mile from town along the Old Colonial Road.

“This is it.” Jack nodded. “There’s a path down to the pond from here. Near the water is a good place to find certain plants.”

A newer-model sedan pulled up behind them. A botanist from the University, Professor Lois Hightower, had followed Nate’s cruiser in her own car. She climbed out and waited for the two men. Jack nodded to her and started down the path. Nate and the Professor followed him.

The day had grown quite warm, and the first sweet fragrances of summer filled the air. Bees swarmed over flowering bushes and insects flitted in the air. The woods felt as if everything had come alive. When they reached the pond, Jack turned and followed a well-worn path to a shady area. “Here we are,” he said, pointing to a hearty clump of sweet woodruff. “I picked those leaves right here, Professor.”

“Please, call me Lois.” She smiled and knelt down. “Well, this is definitely our sweet woodruff,
Galium odoratum
. I’m sure you know, Jack, that it’s an herbaceous perennial.” She picked a small leaf and held it to her nose. “If this was all you picked, then I can’t see how this could have caused a problem for anyone.” She stood and surveyed the area, then walked in a circle around the tree, studying the ground and nearby vegetation.

“You see anything interesting?” Nate asked.

Professor Hightower looked up and smiled. She was a tall blonde with a ruddy complexion that betrayed the time she spent outdoors. “I’m just checking the area. There are lots of everyday plants that are terribly poisonous, even some houseplants. People die or become sick every year because they pick the wrong kind of leaf or the wrong type of berry, particularly children who like to put anything they find in their mouths. Sometimes it’s all parts of the plant that are poisonous and sometimes just the leaves or seeds. Even everyday foods can cause harm—uncooked potatoes, things like that.”

Nate nodded in agreement.

The Professor continued. “Elderberries contain high levels of cyanide, just like apple seeds. Jimson weed is a member of the nightshade family. Foxglove can cause convulsions and heart problems. Hydrangeas, even tulip bulbs; the list goes on and on. Be careful what you eat or touch, and let the experts do the food harvesting.” She turned and moved closer to the water. “I’ll just have a look around.”

Jack turned to Nate. “Well, even this woodruff, if you ate enough of it, could cause some people to be sick, even though it’s not poisonous. That’s why I picked it now before the plant starts to bloom, and I didn’t give the ladies too much of it.”

Professor Hightower turned back. “He’s right. Good thing you picked the young leaves. It’s considered safe to use as a flavoring in alcoholic drinks, but there have been instances where ingesting it in large amounts has brought on paralysis and even coma and death.” The Professor moved to the other side of the patch of woodruff and knelt down. She was suddenly quiet.

Nate approached closer. “Anything wrong?”

She pointed to a cluster of plants with thick stems colored with purple blotches. “Yes. Something rather bad, actually. This is water hemlock, also known as false parsley or cowbane. A very dangerous plant.”

Nate looked at Jack. “Do you recognize this, Jack?” The men approached the spot where the Professor knelt.

“Sure, I do. I know better than to pick something like that. Nate . . . you don’t think I’d ever . . .”

“I’m sure you didn’t, Jack,” Nate reassured him.

The Professor smiled. “You seem pretty knowledgeable, Mr. Jamieson. I’m sure you were very careful.” She turned to look at the patch of plants and shook her head. “Water hemlock grows all over North America, usually near ponds but in meadows too. It’s such a dangerous plant because people mistake it for coriander or parsnips. Kids have made blow darts out of the stems and died just from that. The roots taste sweet and have even been known to kill large cattle. Horribly dangerous plant.”

“I know I’d never mistake hemlock. I was warned about that when I was a kid. I didn’t really notice it that day, to tell you the truth. But I’m sure I was real careful when I picked the woodruff leaves.”

Professor Hightower pulled a pair of pruning shears from her jacket and snipped off a section of the hemlock plant. She pulled a tissue from another pocket and dropped the clipping into a plastic bag, careful not to touch the sample.

“I’m sure you were, Jack.” Nate patted the older man’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that now. We just wanted to see where you found the woodruff. Come on—I’ll drive you back to town.”

Jack nodded. He wiped perspiration from his brow. He could feel his heart beating rapidly. Had he made a terrible mistake?

T
HE
O
FF
B
ROADWAY
Ladies’ Clothing Shop carried women’s clothing almost exclusively, but often Marjorie and Cecily kept the odd bolt of fabric, buttons and various accessories in stock. Lucky had finished the final touches on Sophie’s wedding dress but she wanted to embellish it further—some pearl beading, she thought, perhaps along the top of the bodice and the neckline. She wasn’t sure, but she felt she’d recognize the exact thing that would make the dress come to life. She hadn’t consulted Sophie in this matter, since Sophie would more than likely have nixed the idea, but she could picture the finished dress in her mind and how lovely it could look. She was sure Sophie would be happy with her efforts.

She pushed through the front door. Marjorie was behind the counter and Cecily stood at the other side of an L-shaped glass display case. She was arranging blouses on hangers. Cecily smiled and waved.

“Hello, Lucky,” Marjorie called out. “What can we do for you?”

“I was just wondering if you had any netting or beading on hand, or anything like that?” Lucky asked.

“Hmm,” Marjorie replied. “We have a few things—in the back storeroom. Cecily can show you.” She smiled broadly. “Is this for Sophie’s wedding dress?”

“Yes. It’s almost finished. I’d like to add some embellishment and I need to find something that would work for a veil.”

“Oh, we might have just the thing,” Cecily replied.

Lucky heard the door to the street open behind her. She turned to see Greta carrying a tote bag full of books. She wore the same brown dress and sweater she had worn the first day Lucky had seen her at the Spoonful.

“Greta, hi,” Cecily said. Greta nodded shyly in return. “You’re here for the books?”

“Yes,” she replied.

“Hang on just a second, Lucky.” Cecily hurried into the storeroom and returned with a stack of five hardbound and three paperback books. “Can you manage these in your tote bag?” she asked.

“Oh, yes. Just put them all in here.” Greta held the heavy cloth satchel open while Cecily slid the books into it.

“Lucky, have you met Greta yet?” Marjorie asked. “She’s doing a lot of volunteer work for the library.”

“Yes. We met at the Spoonful.” Lucky smiled. “And we share the same apartment building. Nice to see you again.”

“Hello again.” Greta nodded and attempted a wan smile.

Lucky wished there were some way she could put the woman at her ease. She always appeared so nervous. “By the way, Greta, I have a lot of books that moved back to Snowflake with me. I’ll go through them and donate them if you think you can use them for the library.”

“That would be wonderful. Our drive has been very successful so far. We appreciate anything you’d like to give.” She turned back to the sisters. “Thank you so much for these, Cecily . . . Marjorie.” She ducked quickly out the front door.

“Well, that was quick,” Marjorie remarked. “She skittered away so fast you’d think she was afraid of us.”

“I know,” Cecily said. “I’ve seen her at the library. She’s afraid of her own shadow, poor thing.” She shivered. “She makes
me
nervous.” She smiled quickly, dismissing the feeling. “Come on back, Lucky,” she added, indicating Lucky should follow her into the rear of the store.

“We do have some things—a small supply we keep just in case. No point getting rid of it; it’s all useful for something.” Cecily opened the door to the small storeroom in the rear of the shop. A long table took up most of one wall. On the other side was a sewing machine with a rack of spools of thread hanging on the wall above. Next to that, a bureau with deep drawers. On the far wall were shelves and several bolts of fabric carefully protected in plastic.

“Is the dress white?” Cecily asked.

“More of an eggshell color, if you know what I mean. Very simple and flowing. It’ll look beautiful on her with her dark hair. I need some soft netting material for a veil and maybe some beading for the dress.”

“Oh, how romantic,” Cecily breathed. “I can’t wait to see her on her wedding day!”

Lucky realized she’d reached a point at which she’d need to keep a list for Sophie and Sage.

Cecily pulled down one of the bolts and laid it on the long table. She carefully slid the plastic covering away from the fabric. “This is lovely stuff. Hard to find, you know.”

Lucky picked up an end of the soft material. There was no stiffness to it. When she lifted the cloth, it hung easily. “This is perfect. Right color . . . gorgeous.”

“What are you using for the headdress?”

“Haven’t quite decided yet. I was thinking of going over to the big fabric store in Lincoln Falls to see what they have.”

“Hang on, dear. We might have something.” Cecily hurried to the bureau and opened the top drawer. Inside were hat and shoe accessories in plastic cases, bags of buttons, hem binding and zippers. Cecily rummaged some more and retrieved a large plastic bag of small pearls, already prepared with tiny holes for sewing. “How’s this?” She held the bag up to show Lucky the contents.

“Oh,” Lucky breathed. “These are perfect, Cecily. Thank you!”

“And,” Cecily announced triumphantly. “Look at this!” She turned back with a circlet of clustered pearls in her hand. “We did a June bride display a few years ago. These are the things that didn’t sell, but they’re in perfect shape. You could use this to secure Sophie’s veil.”

Lucky took it from Cecily’s hand. “It seems a little big,” she remarked.

“Not really. You see, it fits over the forehead, like this,” she said, slipping it on. “I like the look, actually: a little medieval and romantic.”

“I see what you mean. It’s different but lovely, and I can attach the veil to it with little stitches. I think she’ll like this. Can you cut me three yards of the netting?”

“Sure thing,” Cecily said, flipping the bolt over a few times on the table and lining the material up with the yardstick attached to the front edge. “Do you really need three yards for her veil?” she asked.

“Just in case. Two would be enough, but an extra in case I make a mistake or anything.”

“Okay,” Cecily replied.

Lucky hesitated to broach the subject, especially since Cecily and her sister seemed to be on good terms today, but curiosity got the better of her. She sat on a stool next to the table and leaned her chin on her hand as Cecily lined up the netting. “How are you holding up, Cecily?”

Cecily glanced at her sharply. “You mean since . . .” She trailed off.

“Since your meeting.”

Cecily smiled. “That’s a nice way to put it—our meeting.” She shook her head. “My sister was so upset with me that I was involved with them—but it just sounded like so much fun!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t see anything wrong with it. I still don’t. And if Cordelia Rank wanted to run herself ragged organizing it, I thought, well, why not?”

“I didn’t hear what happened until the next day. Elizabeth told me first and then Flo Sullivan showed up first thing in the morning at the Spoonful and went on and on about it. It must have been horrible.”

“Oh, it was.” She sighed. “Believe me, it was. But I still don’t think there was anything wrong with that wine. I’m sure when they figure things out, they’ll realize poor Agnes had some condition or something.”

“Cecily, Nate questioned Jack about the herbs he provided. And Jack has been really disturbed about it, thinking he might have made a mistake.”

“Oh, I doubt that. He certainly knows what he’s doing. He’s been gardening for a long time.”

“I understand you picked up the basket from him?”

“Yes. I did.” Cecily had finished neatly cutting the edge of the material and folded it into a large square.

“And you took it straight to Cordelia’s house?”

“That’s right.” Cecily turned to look at her. “Lucky, you’re not thinking that it sat around in the open somewhere and someone could have tampered with it?”

“It did cross my mind.”

Cecily shook her head. “Nothing like that happened, believe me. I put the basket in my car and drove it straight to Cordelia’s. She was making the May wine and, knowing her, I’m sure no one else was allowed in the kitchen.”

“Did Cordelia ask you to bring anything else?”

“No. Nothing.”

Lucky nodded. “Good to know. I’m sure you’re right. It couldn’t have anything to do with Jack’s herbs, but I guess we’ll have to wait till the results of the autopsy come in.”

“Will one bag of these pearls be enough, do you think?”

Lucky was jolted out of her reverie. “Uh, yes. Yes, I’m sure that’ll be plenty.”

Cecily folded each item into tissue paper and then placed the netting, pearls and circlet into a plastic bag. “There you go, dear. You can pay Marjorie at the counter.”

“Thanks again, Cecily. I’m sorry to bring it all up. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just that Jack has been worried about this since he heard about it. I am curious, though . . .” Lucky hesitated. “There’s something else, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Of course not. What is it?”

“Who else was there in the woods?”

“Well, besides myself, there was Cordelia, Emily Rathbone from the library, Agnes Warner, of course, and Greta. Let’s see, that’s five. One woman who lives up in Lincoln Heights—I forget her name—and another woman who came over from Lincoln Falls. I didn’t know those two before, actually. Cordelia wanted to have a group of thirteen, but she couldn’t talk anyone else into it. She finally decided to settle on the seven of us.” Cecily shook her head. “I can’t imagine anyone deliberately wanting to hurt Agnes. She was such a harmless woman. She was so quiet. Struck me as a somewhat oppressed creature, if you know what I mean. I’d rather think that Cordelia—our high priestess—would be a much more likely murder victim.” Cecily chuckled.

“Oppressed? That’s an odd word to use.”

“Yes. Well. You see, Agnes’s husband always dropped her off and picked her up. She was always so concerned that we’d finish late and he’d be kept waiting. I didn’t care too much for him. He was polite enough but I always felt he was one of those men who rules the household with an iron hand.”

Lucky heard footsteps in the corridor. Cecily looked alarmed. “Shh! I don’t want Marjorie to hear me talking about this.”

Lucky nodded in acknowledgment.

The footsteps came closer. “Here you go, Lucky,” Cecily said in a slightly louder voice. “Marjorie will ring you up. And I just can’t wait to see the bride on her wedding day!”

Lucky made a mental note to add one more person to the guest list.