The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) (28 page)

“Was the other man tall and thin, in his sixties?”

“No. Opposite. Short and stocky.”

“What did the car look like?”

Jimi crossed his arms. “Dunno. Just remember that it was dark. It's dark back there, and the car was dark. I doubt they even saw me. Why all the questions?”

“Didn't you think it was unusual for that to be happening?

“You're kidding, right? Between The Starlite and Sonnie's, it's an every night occurrence. We don't get the cream of the crop around here, other than when your Phil makes an occasional appearance.”

I laughed.

“He was in here the other night, you know.”

“Who was?”

“Phil.”

I frowned. “With whom? What night?”

“A go-go dancer named Trixie.” He smiled, his whole face contorted.

I looked blankly at Jimi. I wasn’t in the mood for his sense of humor right now.

Jimi wrinkled his brow. “Just pulling your leg. Came in here alone when I was leaving. Wednesday night my shift is over at nine.”

“Wednesday night? You mean a couple of nights ago?”

“Yes.” Jimi said uncertainly. “Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.”

What the hell? The night someone was breaking into our home, Phil was here?

I patted him on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Uncle Jimi. I better get going. Nice talking to you, and thank you.”

He smiled. “Sure. Stop in anytime.”

I stepped out of The Starlite, my head pounding ready to explode. I stalked back home, my anger fueled by Phil’s betrayal.

Will drove in the driveway as I was walking up the steps to the house. Deep in thought about Phil, his car horn almost scared me to death. I yelped and jerked my head back.

“Hey, Mom,” he called out of his open window.

“Will!” I said, regaining my composure. “You're home early.”

Will got out of the car. I walked over and gave him a big hug and kiss.

“I'm glad to see you.”

I ran my hand through his hair. “You cut off your brown curls. Getting ready for your new job in January, I see.”

His blue eyes sparkled. “The beard's gone also.”

“You look great. All ready to be off on your own. Let me give you a hand with your bags.”

“That's okay, I have it.”

We started walking toward the house. “Have you eaten yet?”

“At Beijing Bistro before I left.”

I opened the front door. “Again. How many times have you eaten there this week?”

“Too many. By the way, I have my laundry in the trunk.”

“Oh great. I’ll do that Sunday before you leave. How’s everything going?”

“Between the internship, my job, and classes, I don't have a whole lot of free time. I have a major exam on Monday, so I brought all my books home.”

So Will came home for his birthday so that he could do homework and eat while I did his laundry. The life of a student!

“Oh,” Will said quietly in an offhand manner. “And I started seeing a new girl. I like how you’ve decorated in here. And rearranged the furniture.”

My ears perked up. “A new girl? Just thought you'd throw that bit of information into the conversation?”

Will smiled.

“What's her name? Tell me about her.”

Will thrust his hand into his duffle bag and produced a number of plastic discs. “I haven’t got time right now, but you'd like her. Alex is going to be over any minute. We're going disc-golfing. I'll tell you all about her at Jo's tonight. We're still going, right?”

“Of course.”

The doorbell rang. “That'll be Alex. I have it. Gotta go! I'll be back around six o'clock. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you—” The door slammed shut. “—too.” I sighed, but smiled. Just made it back to town, and Will was off and running.

After Will left I started thinking about Phil. What was he doing at The Starlite Wednesday night while someone was breaking into our home? What was going on with him as of late? I decided to confront him about it.

Later in the afternoon, I went into the study to look up an online recipe for the fajitas I was making tomorrow for Will's birthday. I searched the browser history to reach the sites I had looked at on Wednesday for recipes. Up popped Ted Michaels' real estate website. What? I never looked this up. Phil must have, but why? I continued scrolling through the browser history. A newspaper article appeared about a drug arrest Ted Michaels was involved in, possession of Psilocybe semilanceata and Cannabis sativa. Magic mushrooms and marijuana. The article was from over twenty years ago. Why the sudden interest in Ted? I knew Phil didn't like him much. I never could figure out why, but this was going too far. Did he still think I was spending too much time with him? Did either of us trust each other anymore?

Before I could look any further, the doorbell rang.

I opened the front door. “Hello, Mary Ann. What a nice surprise. Come in.”

“Hi, Kay. Just took a chance you would be home.”

I led Mary Ann into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink, tea, coffee?”

“No thanks.” We sat down on the sofa. “Kay, remember you mentioned about Sherman's...the page missing from his appointment calendar for Friday, October 28th?”

“Yes?”

“This morning I called Sherman's secretary. I asked her if she kept a copy of all of his appointments. She did. That Friday evening at six o'clock, he was to meet with Dr. Anders at Sonnie's Bar.”

“Fantastic! Did you ask her to give you a copy of it?”

“No, but I will. Do you think we should go to Sonnie's and ask some questions?”

“I found out some information today about Sherman's whereabouts that evening. I think it would be safer not to go there.” I told her everything Uncle Jimi had said about her husband.

I heard the kitchen door open. “Kay, I'm home,” Phil called out.

“I should get going,” Mary Ann said, her voice a little shaky.

I stood up. “Thanks for the information,” I said, walking her to the door. “I'll call you later this weekend.”

“Thanks, Kay.” Mary Ann left.

“Kay, is Will home yet?” Phil came into the living room and gave me a decent, no, a great kiss, the kind I was used to getting.

“He's out with Alex disc-golfing.”

“I left school early. If we have a little time then—”

I thought about how I was going to approach the subject of The Starlite. I decided to be straight forward. “Phil, I saw Uncle Jimi today. He told me you were at The Starlite the evening someone broke into the house. What were you doing there?”

“Oh, that…” Phil looked uncomfortable, the way he did when he had been caught in a lie.

Before Phil could launch into an explanation, Will came in the front door. “I'm starving! When are we leaving for Jo's?”

* * * *

After the fish fry, where Will had a double order of lake perch and fries, he left to go to a party. Phil and I went for a walk around the neighborhood.

“Phil, I was shocked when Uncle Jimi told me you were at The Starlite Wednesday night. You told me you were at school.”

“I had received a text message about someone planning to sell this stellar 1937 Martin acoustic guitar at an unbelievable price. The message said they would bring it to The Starlite that night between nine o'clock and nine-thirty. I couldn't pass that up. You can understand that. I waited until just after ten o'clock, and then came home.”

I looked up at the sky. Talk about stellar. There were innumerable stars in the sky.

“Is that the truth? Couldn't you see who the text message was from?” I asked, but I believed him. I could understand his enthusiasm for the prospect of getting the classic guitar, but it was at the risk of my safety. He didn't know someone would break into our home, but it seemed this was another case of his thinking about his music more than me. Would I ever come first in Phil's life over his music?

“It was a number I didn't recognize. But the offer...too good to ignore.”

“I wonder if whoever it was wanted to make sure you wouldn't be in the house when Dr. Anders broke in. I don’t know why you didn’t tell me. You could have said you were at The Starlite. You lied, Phil.”

He still wouldn’t answer that. “You only have Elizabeth's word on the intruder being Dr. Anders. She isn't the most credible person in the world, plus it was dark. Oh, before I forget, Neelam called this morning while you were out on your walk. Wants to know when we can get together. I told her you'd call back to set up a date for dinner.”

“I've been busy with everything that's going on. I'll call her back and let her know that it might be a little while. Perhaps in a couple of weeks when things have died down we can get together.”

Phil reached for my hand, taking it in his. “Kay, please don’t get too involved in this. It's dangerous.”

I looked over at Phil. I wanted to ask him how he knew that, but something in the concern and sincerity in his eyes made me let the question go. I decided to ignore the issue of The Starlite for now and slipped my arm beneath Phil's as we came up to our block.

Saturday, November 12

Saturday morning after breakfast, Will started studying at the kitchen table. I finished making the marinade for the fajitas, and then sat in the living room in my favorite armchair, propped my feet up on the ottoman, and started to read James' selection for the book club. The book was as morbid as I expected it to be. It must have been difficult, even for James, to find a book as forlorn as this one,
Murder Most Ghastly
. I didn't know how far I would get into the book before giving up.

I heard an unfamiliar voice in the kitchen. Had someone come over? Happy to find any excuse to put down the book, I went to investigate, welcoming the interruption.

Only Will was in the kitchen, leaning over his laptop, typing at a furious pace. The voice, thin and metallic, continued a monologue that sounded like a recitation of sorts. “Will, do you have the radio on?”

Will looked up and tipped back in his chair. “No Mom, a recording from a lecture. It's on the test Monday.”

My eyes opened wide. The recorder! Of course. I'd forgotten about Sherman's recorder. He was always speaking into one whenever I saw him walking to campus. How could I have forgotten a feature so prominent and inseparable from the professor’s image?

“Do you mind if I take a quick look at that?” I asked Will, pointing at it.

Will handed me the recorder. “Be careful not to erase anything.”

I'd never had an opportunity to see Sherman’s recorder up close, but Will’s appeared to be a similar machine. “It's so small. Can you record many lectures on it?”

“Maybe thirty hours.”

“That's a long time. Thanks so much.” I leaned over, put the recorder back in front of Will, and gave him a big hug.

Will looked at me with a quizzical smirk. “Sure thing. Anytime.”

I took the phone and address book into the living room, looked up Mary Ann's number, and dialed.

“Answer...answer,” I said aloud to myself. She answered on the third ring. “Mary Ann, it's Kay. Do you know what became of Sherman’s recorder?” I asked in an excited voice. “The one he always had with him?”

“That?” She paused a short while. “I don’t think I’ve seen it. Never even thought of it. Come to think of it, it wasn’t in his personal effects they gave me.”

“What did he record with it?”

“Thoughts about his upcoming book. He'd write them down later. Oh...also, he recorded interviews he conducted.”

“Interviews?” I repeated. “So, he would have had it when he met Dr. Anders on Friday?”

“Yes...oh yes,
for sure
he would have had it then.”

* * * *

Ecstatic, I walked straight out the front door, across the lawn, over to Deirdre's. As soon as she answered the door, I blurted out, “Deirdre. Remember, we kept saying something was missing?” I must have interrupted her yoga practice. She wore a black yoga halter top and leggings. Her hair was tied back.