by Terri Reid
“Yes, I did,” she replied. “It’s important.”
“Yeah, I drank tea all the time,” he said. “Never could stand the taste of coffee.”
“Is the tea still around? Did someone keep it?”
“Yeah, I heard Dorothy say she kept it,” he said, “Probably in one of those cabinets where she kept all of my other stuff.”
Mary rushed down the hall to Dorothy’s area, with Sam hovering close behind. She went to the file cabinet Dorothy had opened when she gave Mary Sam’s old calendar. Pulling it open all the way, she looked in the back. Nothing was there. She looked around the room.
“It was quite a collection,” Sam said. “Maybe it’s in a box somewhere.”
They spent the next ten minutes searching through closets and cabinets for the tea, but nothing materialized. “You know, we should try Bradley’s office,” Sam suggested. “Dorothy was going to give it to him.”
Bradley’s door was locked, but with the help of his keychain, after a few unsuccessful tries, they were able to get in. In the corner of the room was a little refrigerator and on top was a coffee maker with an empty carafe. There was an assortment of boxes of teas on a tray next to the coffee maker. “Yeah, this is my collection,” Sam said, picking up an unusual box of tea and looking it over. “I got this one when I visited New Orleans. Voodoo tea.”
He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Mary laughed. “Well, I don’t think voodoo did you in.”
He picked up another container, a small tin, and opened it. “This one doesn’t look familiar.”
“Do you smell?” Mary asked.
“I beg your pardon?” Sam responded.
Mary laughed. “I mean, can you still smell things, as a ghost?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. But it can’t hurt to try.”
He brought the container up to his nose, sniffed and grimaced. “Yes, I can smell and this is most certainly that awful tea Angela gave me,” he said. “But I know my tea was in a different container.”
“Angela? Angela Murray, the Coroner, gave you some tea?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “She knew I liked tea and so she made up...”
“An old family recipe?” Mary interrupted.
“Yeah, how did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess,” Mary said. “Sam, how long after drinking her tea did you start having stomach issues?”
Sam looked astonished. “Wow. Right away. I mean, I was actually drinking the tea hoping it would help me. It was the tea, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know for sure, but it is starting to look that way,” Mary said. “You don’t know where the tin she gave you is?”
He sat back against Bradley’s desk and thought about it for a moment. Then his eyes widened in comprehension. “She was there,” he said. “The night I died. She came in and tried to seduce me. I turned her down. She was on her way out when she noticed the container was empty. She said she’d fill it for me again, as a friend, and she put it in her purse.”
“Would anyone else recognize the tin?” Mary asked.
Shaking his head, he sighed, “No, no one would know it from any of the other teas I had.”
“That’s okay, Sam, I’ve got plenty of tea to test and I know just the man to do it.”
When Mary arrived home, Bradley was awake and eating breakfast. “How are you feeling?” she asked as she slipped off her coat.
“Still about the same,” he said. “Where have you been?”
“At City Hall, talking to Sam.”
Bradley looked immediately concerned. “Oh, don’t worry, I didn’t break in, Jea...,” she froze mid-sentence. “Someone let me in.”
“Anyway, did you know that Angela also gave Sam some of her tea?” she asked. “And his stomach problems started happening soon after he started drinking it.”
“Angela’s tea?”
Mary nodded. “And last night, Rosie brought me some of Angela’s tea and then a couple hours later...”
“You got sick too,” he said. “Stanley was right? She’s been poisoning us?”
Rosie walked into the room, a dish towel in her hands. “Did I just overhear you correctly?” she asked. “That tea is what’s been making everyone sick?”
“Well, it seems like it is,” she said. “We have to give Angela the benefit of the doubt, perhaps she has some bad ingredients she doesn’t know about. But, to be sure, we need to have it analyzed to see what’s in it.”
She walked over to the phone, pressed the button for speaker and dialed a familiar number. “Cook County Coroner, Wojchichowski,” the voice on the other end answered.
“Hey, Bernie, it’s Mary O’Reilly,” she said.
“Hey, little O’Reilly, how was your Christmas?”
“It was great, Bernie, how was yours?”
“We had so much food I had to bring in a couple of carts from work, just to hold it all. But, hey, you throw a tablecloth over it; no one knows it held a body earlier in the week.”
“Remind me never to come to your place for dinner,” Mary said.
“Hey, you’ve never eaten until you’ve had a good Polish Christmas. You ever try Rolmops?”
“No, Bernie, I can’t say that I have.”
“They are de-li-cious, you take a pickle and then you take a pickled onion and then you roll them in a thin slice of pickled herring fillet and you pop it into your mouth,” he said. “Nothing says Christmas morning like Rolmops.”
“You eat pickled fish for breakfast?” Mary asked.
“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, it’s a delicacy.”
“I’ll stick to eggs and bacon,” Mary teased.
“Ah, Mary, you just need to experience it. I know that somewhere, deep inside, there’s some Polish blood in you.”
Mary laughed. “Don’t tell my dad that, because my mom will have a lot of explaining to do.”
“Now there’s a woman who has Polish in her blood,” he said. “You still seeing that Police Chief? My nephew’s still looking.”
“She’s still seeing that Police Chief,” Bradley said. “Your nephew is out of luck.”
Bernie chuckled. “Hey there, Chief Alden. Yeah, well I thought that might be the case a while back. So, little O’Reilly, what can I do you for?”
“Bernie, I have some tea I need to have analyzed, but I’m not sure it will get an...,” she paused, “unbiased analysis here.”
“This analysis pretty important?” he asked.
Mary turned and met Bradley’s gaze. “Life and death, Bernie,” she said. “It’s really important to me.”
“If you can get it to me tomorrow, I’ll have it done right away,” he promised. “That fast enough?”
“That would be great, thank you, Bernie. I owe you.”
“Hey I’ve known you since you were in training pants, we’re family; we do that kind of thing for each other.”
“Yeah, we’re family,” Mary agreed. “Talk to you soon.”
“Take care of yourself, kochanie,” he replied, and then he hung up the phone.
“I’ll call Cory and ask him to drive it in tomorrow,” Bradley said.
Mary nodded. “Good, and then he can wait for the results and bring them back before the end of the day. Why don’t you give him my cell number, just in case you’re still having tests run when the results are done?”
“I will, but I want you to do something for me,” he said.
“Sure.”
“Go in to the hospital this morning and let them run some tests on you. I know you only had a cup of the tea, but we don’t know what kind of effect it will have on your liver.”
“I hate hospitals,” she muttered.
“Yeah, I know,” he said. “But I really want you to do it.”
“Fine,” she agreed. “But I’m not going to be happy about it.”
Chapter 27
Angela watched Mary walk towards the laboratory and sit down in the waiting room. She wanted to confront her. She wanted to tell her to keep h
er hands off Bradley. But she knew there was a better way. Daddy was always right about these things.
She looked up and saw Dr. Thompson coming towards her. He was really a good-looking man, too bad he was only a doctor, not a policeman or a fireman. She wondered how he was going to take the information she was going to give him. Oh, well, she’d just have to wait and see.
“Angela, good to see you,” Dr. Thompson said, looking up and down the corridor. “I’m afraid I don’t understand why we are meeting in the middle of a hallway.”
“I know it might seem odd and I do apologize for that,” she said. “It’s just that my daddy told me that you might be interested in some information about that woman seated over there.”
She motioned towards Mary.
Dr. Thompson looked over at the young woman seated in the corner chair. He thought she might look a little familiar. He turned back to Angela. “What about her?”
“Her name is Mary O’Reilly and she’s a private investigator,” she said. “She has an office in the downtown area. She used to be a Chicago cop.”
He nodded, still watching the young woman. “That’s interesting, but I don’t know why I would be interested.”
“She was in my office earlier this week looking for the body of a middle-aged white woman,” Angela said. “She said the body would have come in on or after Christmas Day.”
Dr. Thompson’s eyes widened and his stance grew rigid. “I have no idea why your father would think I would be interested in that kind of information,” he sneered. “I’ve never even met your father.”
Angela smiled. “Well, he doesn’t get out much. But he has this way about him, seems to know things. I have no idea what it’s about. I just pass on the information.”
“Well, no harm done,” Dr. Thompson said. “I understand you’d want to humor your father.”
“Thanks for understanding, Luke,” she said, running her hand up the sleeve of his lab coat. “I appreciate it.”
He smiled down at her. “My pleasure, Angela.”
As Dr. Thompson turned to leave, she placed a hand on his arm again.
“Oh, one more thing, daddy said you’d like to know,” Angela whispered. “Mary O’Reilly drives a black 1965 MGB Roadster.”
Chapter 28
“Well, Mary, the good news is that your liver isn’t as severely damaged as Bradley’s,” Dr. Thorne said, as she read from the clipboard in the hospital room. “But, there was some minor damage.”
“What does that mean?” Mary asked.
“It means that you should avoid alcohol for the time being and drink plenty of fluids. I’ll retest you in a couple of weeks,” she said. “And Mary, you can come over to my office for the tests so you don’t have to come to the hospital.”
Mary smiled. “Thanks, Dr. Thorne, I appreciate it.”
“My pleasure, I’ll have someone at my office call you and set things up.”
Okay that wasn’t too painful, she thought as she walked back down the hallway toward the exit. And it didn’t take too long. Linda will just be getting in and I need to see if she has any information on those other men.
She was reaching for her phone in the pocket of her purse when someone knocked into her and sent her sprawling. Her purse flew out of her hand and slid across the hall.
“I am so sorry,” a male voice said from behind her.
Mary turned around and looked up. The man standing above her had a slender build, friendly hazel eyes surrounded by a pair of gold rimmed glasses and fine brown hair that fell forward on his forehead as he leaned down towards her. She noticed that he was wearing a white lab coat and a stethoscope. What? Business wasn’t good enough so they were running down their own victims?
“I can’t apologize enough,” he said, extending a hand and helping her to her feet. “It was so stupid of me. I was reading a chart and not looking where I was going. I hope I didn’t harm you.”
Mary shook her head, still a little dazed. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said, moving past him to pick up her purse.
“You must let me do something for you,” he said. “Anything.”
“Sorry, already had my tonsils out,” she replied, “And I’d rather not have anything else removed.”
“What?” his face went blank for a moment and then he smiled. “Oh, you were teasing me.”
So much for my reputation of being a quick wit.
“You know, I’m fine, really, and I hate hospitals,” she said, eager to leave. “So, we’re good. Okay?”
The doctor extended his hand. “I’m Luke, Dr. Luke Thompson,” he said. “If there is ever anything I can do for you...”
Mary shook his hand. “I’m Mary O’Reilly,” she said, “and I’m fine. I’ve had worse things thrown at me.”
“Aren’t you that private investigator?” he said.
“Yes, I am,” she replied. “I have an office on Main Street.”
“Well, perhaps this was meant to be,” he murmured.
“Fate wanted me knocked on my butt this morning?” she asked, trying to move around him. “I don’t think so.”
“No, no, I have a problem,” he said. “You see my sister-in-law has disappeared.”
Mary froze. “Thompson? Your last name is Thompson?”
“Yes, my sister-in-law is Peggy Thompson. Have you met her?”
Mary nodded. “Yes, once or twice,” she said. “How long has she been gone?”
He shrugged. “I was surprised when she wasn’t home for Christmas, she loves holidays.”
“What did your brother say when you asked him?”
“He said she’d left him,” he replied. “But that sure doesn’t sound like Peggy; she was a home-body if there ever was one.”
Mary reached in her purse and handed him her card. “I’d be very happy to help you,” she said. “Call me if you think of anything.”
“I will,” he promised. “I certainly will.”
Chapter 29
Mary jotted down the locations next to each of the names on the list. She was seated in Bradley’s SUV in the parking lot of the hospital, her phone wedged between her shoulder and her cheek, her list against the back of her purse.
“Okay, so Mike Richards was found near Yellow Creek in Krape Park,” she said. “He was fishing? Okay, yeah, I’ve got it.”
Mary wrote the last of the information down. “You’ve been a great help, Linda,” she said. “I really appreciate it.”
She dropped her purse and the list in the passenger seat and started the car. Krape Park was only two miles away. Even though Mike Richards was one of the last on the list, he was the closest victim of the curse in the vicinity.
Mary turned into the small parking lot near the boat docks. This side of the park was nearly deserted, but the sledding hill on the other side was packed full of winter thrill seekers. Mary walked across the parking lot and then back behind the stone Community Building. She climbed down the retaining wall into the calf high snow and walked alongside the bank of the creek. Yellow Creek was covered in ice and the paddlewheels and canoes that careened down the creek in the summer were put away in winter storage. The pedestrian bridge above the creek had icicles hanging from it and the vegetation on the banks was covered with a thin layer of frost. It was a winter wonderland.
As she got closer to the bridge, she started looking for signs of Mike Richards. He had been a fireman on the Freeport Fire Department. He was well-liked, courageous and single. He was one of the top bid receivers during the Annual Bachelor Charity Auction. Everyone was surprised at his sudden death. Well, maybe not everyone, Mary thought.
She walked around a small grove of trees and found him, standing knee deep in the Yellow Creek, casting his fishing line into the waters. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a polo shirt. She knew, logically, that being a ghost, he wouldn’t feel the cold, but she still shivered involuntarily.
“Hey, Mike,” she called. “Got a minute?”
He turned and smiled at her. “S
ure,” he said, sloshing up to shore. “They’re not biting today anyway. I’ve had the worst luck lately. Hey, do I know you?”
Mary shook her head. “No, we’ve never met,” she said. “But I wondered if I could ask you a couple of questions.”
He took a moment to look her over and his smile widened. Moving closer, he laid his fishing pole against one tree, put one hand on the tree directly behind Mary and leaned toward her. “Baby, you can ask me anything you’d like,” he said, “On one condition.”
She couldn’t help it, she grinned. He was such a player. “Okay, what’s the condition?”
“Well, I’ll give you a choice,” he said, “You run away with me to someplace warm and tropical or you give me your phone number so we can get to know each other.”
Suddenly struck by the realization that this young man would never be able to use those pick-up lines ever again, would never be able to laugh with his friends or be with his family, sadness overwhelmed her. She looked up at him and tried to smile, but tears filled her eyes.
“Hey, gorgeous, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, looking concerned.
She shook her head. “No, no, you didn’t,” she said, sniffing back the tears. “I was just thinking about how much I was going to miss my family after I run away with you.”
He smiled. “Baby, I won’t give you a chance to miss them.”
She chuckled. “Well, I really need to ask you those questions before I can go home and pack.”
“Shoot. What do you need to know?”
“Do you know a woman named Angela Murray?”
“Crazy Angie, yeah, I know her,” he paused and looked worried for a moment. “You’re not a friend of hers are you?”
Mary shook her head. “No, I’m just following up on some information. I’m a private investigator.”
“Oh, wow, a lady P.I., you’re getting sexier by the minute.”
“So, tell me how you know Angela.”
“Well, I met her at some party and she was, you know, friendly,” he said. “And she’s a good-looking woman, if you don’t know about the crazy stuff. So, I invited her back to my place. We started getting friendlier, if you know what I mean, and all of the sudden she’s talking about our wedding.
