The Erotica Book Club for Nice Ladies

by Connie Spittler

  “We’ll do the same,” Aggie raced the engine to a big crack of thunder. “That’s the sound of big weather.”

  The sky opened and the windshield wipers swished back and forth as they drove through a sudden downpour.

  “I had the Book of Cures,” Lily said, “in my hospital room.”

  “What do you mean?” Piper gave her an odd look.

  “The stolen book everyone wants, it was there. I found it in my bookbag.”

  “Are you sure? You know, you were confused when you came to.” Aggie reached over and turned the windshield wipers down a notch. “We’re driving so fast, we’re almost out of the storm.”

  “The book was real. I touched it. I read it. It was there. Then someone took it.”

  “Who?” Piper asked.

  “The woman with the green hat. I saw her. But she was Sax dressed as a woman and he threw a knife at me.”

  “Are you sure this isn’t part of your coma?” Piper said.

  “I know it was Sax. He had the flower coming out of a bulb tattooed on his forearm. When his arm flashed from under his green sleeve, I recognized it. Believe me.”

  Aggie sighed. “Maybe we should talk about something else. Like about Griffo. He was the one who hit you and sent you into the coma. He thought you’d stolen a ring from him. Now he’ll go to jail. He’s a stain on the family name.”

  Lily’s throat felt dry. “One thing at a time. I’ll deal with Griffo later. We’re almost there.”

  Aggie swerved to avoid a fallen branch. “Are you sure we should do this?”

  When Detective Jamison got to the hospital, he discovered Lily had been released. “Damn it, why didn’t the doctor tell me? Why didn’t you hold her?”

  “The physician called the motel number you left, but there was no answer, so he left a message that she was being discharged. We had no reason to keep her.”

  “You said Ms. McFae left word of her whereabouts.”

  “She said it was urgent to get to the Used Stuff Store, quick as you can.” The nurse handed the book to the detective. “And she left this for you.”

  He saw the point of the dagger cutting into the pages. “Did she mention who did this?”

  The nurse shook her head. “She only said, ‘Extremely urgent.’”

  His cell phone buzzed, and he listened to the tape of Llewellyn’s conversation about buying the book. He dashed off to his car and phoned the sheriff to head for the Used Stuff Store immediately.

  On the grounds of the Jardin Estate, the scent of newly planted lovage and yarrow washed over the vineyard and drifted down the hillside.

  At the goat farm, pink and white blossoms clouded the corner of the garden. The plum tree branches, once leafless and lifeless, now bloomed in profusion.

  In Nolan, behind the Used Stuff Store, strange and powerful currents from Mozambique arrived after a long trip across the ocean, just as a sparrow poked a twig into the downspout and a butterfly circled, in anticipation of random circumstance.

  Inside the Used Stuff office, the lady in green arranged a bouquet of lovage, then poured the liquid she’d concocted from stolen leaves of poison into the silver flask. If things did not go as planned, the tea would be waiting, next to two matching cups and a newspaper covered package. In readiness for the client, she unlocked the front door, then moved back to the office.

  Llewellyn walked into Used Stuff and looked around at the usual display of old furniture and odd memorabilia. He didn’t see anyone.

  “Back here,” a voice called from the office.

  CHAPTER 37

  Out of breath and a bit wobbly, Llewellyn arrived at the office doorway. “I’m here. With a case stuffed with money. Out of vodka, but I’m here. Even with a tornado about to touch ground.” Rain dripped from his hat onto his briefcase.

  “Come on in,” the soft voice said.

  The salesman saw the woman in green. “Who are you, ma’am? Damn it, where’s Boris?” He stumbled into the room.

  “Never mind him. I realize you’ve been drinking, but listen up.” He touched the newspaper package. “Here it is. It’s the two of us who will make the deal. Now let’s see the payment.”

  “Okay, but first, the book. If it’s the real thing, I show you the funds.” He patted his bulging valise. “Instructions from Elcott.”

  Waves of giddiness swept through them as they sensed the book’s mysteries about to unfold. The secrets. The ancient cures. One volume between two people standing face to face, a few breaths away from intriguing remedies for a trio of the world’s most deadly diseases.

  Attracted by the inviting aroma of lovage, a monarch flitted through the window and settled on the petite bouquet.

  Llewellyn’s hand twitched. He eyed the package. “You say the book is under that newspaper. How do I know that?”

  The woman in green peeled down some newsprint to reveal the scarlet cover. “Now let’s see some cash.”

  Llewellyn unlatched the briefcase and stacked bills on the table. “Just a few, to match the glimpse that I got from under that torn paper. I need to open the book.”

  He reached for the package. Like a steel paperweight, the woman’s fist pounded down, holding the packet in place.

  Llewellyn waved some bills under her nose. “Here. Grab a handful, grab two. This part of the payment will be yours, soon as you unwrap the book. I look through it and if it looks right, you take the money in the briefcase. I take the book to our experts who tell us if the cures are real. If they are, one million dollars goes to you. And Elcott gives me a bonus.”

  “That was not the deal. I asked for a million, and I need to count what you brought before we proceed. This deal may not work out. Others will be interested in the book.”

  “This is a legitimate down payment, lady. You must see Elcott’s position. The company can’t buy the cures without checking them out. That will take time.”

  The woman in green reached for the flask. “I see. Well, if I have to indulge you, then you must do the same. Before we proceed, we will seal this new arrangement with a toast of lovage tea. To prove we trust each other, I’ve mixed up my favorite refreshment.” She poured liquid into the two cups. “And just for you, I loaded it with vodka.”

  The wind kicked up, sending a wild burst of air through the window. Sprigs of lovage and hundred dollar bills swirled around the room.

  “Wait, the money’s flying away.” Llewellyn ran toward the window. “I’ll close it.”

  “You do that. I’ll pick up the cash.” The woman shoved some bills into an empty drawer.

  The salesman’s hand tugged on the window sash. A loud chirping startled him and he stuck his head outside. “Hey, birdie, what the hell? It’s a damn sparrow, building a nest in your drainpipe. With this big rain, it’ll clog up and overflow.”

  He leaned out to wiggle the nest free. “I can fix that easy.” When the drainpipe shook, he put his other hand on the gold cord to steady himself, pulling on the rope that held three daggers.

  Underneath the rope, the figure in green leaned over, distracted by a hundred dollar bill under a fallen twig of lovage. At the same moment, the orange-winged butterfly fluttered from its perch to land on top of the sprig.

  “How the hell did that thing get in here?” She stood to swat at the butterfly.

  “I’ve almost got your drain problem fixed.” Llewellyn leaned further out to disengage the nest. The cord that held the daggers wobbled as it supported his weight. The end wall fasteners that held the rope shook and the daggers danced.

  The woman reached down again to retrieve the last fallen bill.

  A sparrow’s third eyelid winked, a butterfly antenna tremored, and the hooks attached to the end of the cord gave way. The whole arrangement crashed, the row of daggers slipping down, a sudden descent of gleaming points. Down. Down. Down. Sharp blades falling straight as bullets.

  A scream pierced the room. Knives cut straight through the fabric of the emerald shirt and jabbed deeply into the bent over ba
ck. The fallen daggers stuck deep into flesh. Blood trickled from the wounds.

  Llewellyn turned. “My god, what happened?”

  The voice from the floor yelled in pain. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’ve been stabbed. Call an ambulance.”

  Llewellyn moved, but he did not reach for the daggers or the phone. Instead he grabbed for the newspaper package and ripped it open to reveal the manuscript. “Holy Toledo, I’ve got it.” He pulled it to his chest, while sheets of rain rushed through the window.

  The store bell rang, and the damp, nice ladies of The Erotica Book Club rushed in to hear the racket coming from the Used Stuff business office. They stood at the office door, staring.

  “Hold everything. We’re here.” Piper held up her purse. “And we’re armed.”

  “Help me, someone. Help,” a voice called out from the floor. “This guy tried to kill me.”

  “I did not,” Llewellyn yelled. “I lost my balance. This is an invasion of privacy. He’ll have you women arrested. Back, all of you. Get out of this office. Get out of this store. It’s closed. This person and I are conducting a business transaction.”

  The figure in green groaned.

  The ladies of the Erotic Book Club moved around the table to view the body, now leaking streams of blood, daggers sticking out of a ripped green shirt.

  Piper stared at the salesman. “I know him. He’s the guy at the Emporium who talked about the book worth a million, the drug salesman. Guess I better call an ambulance for the lady.” She pulled out her phone.

  “I didn’t stab her, I swear,” Llewellyn cried.

  Lily bent down. “She’s a he and he’s a thief.” She pulled off the wig. “I told you. See, it’s Sax.”

  Llewellyn clutched the Book of Cures to his chest. “It was an accident.”

  She approached him. “But you do have the stolen book in your possession.”

  “Yes, but I’m an innocent bystander.” He pointed at Sax. “The book belongs to her. I mean him. I was invited here to take a look at it and drink some tea. Some lovage tea.” Llewellyn set the book on the counter. “See, here’s my cup.” He swallowed it down.

  “Don’t believe him.” Sax lifted his head. “That’s Llewellyn Blanding from Neubland Pharmaceuticals. He was here to buy the damn book and he knew it was stolen. Look at the money in his briefcase. I’m not alone in this. Call a doctor, will you? I’m in serious pain.” His head dropped down as he moaned.

  Llewellyn staggered and swooned on the floor next to Sax. “What kind of cheap vodka was in that tea, anyway?” He stared out through a gauzy gaze. “Yes, I’m Llewellyn Blanding. Call a Neubland Lab doctor.”

  Aggie sniffed at the cup and bent to touch Llewellyn’s cool skin. “I doubt he’ll make it. It smells of lovage, but underneath, there’s an odor of monkshood. That is pure poison stolen from someone’s garden.” She closed her eyes. “Probably mine.”

  Sax lay immobile, still bleeding.

  Aggie stood over him. “I remember when you came dressed as a woman and wanted to buy monkshood.” She thought of the daggers hanging from a golden rope at the Emporium, now repeated at Used Stuff. Staring at the knife points stuck in his deep green shirt, she mumbled, “When you couldn’t buy it, you came back to my garden and stole the poisonous leaves, didn’t you? You get what you give, Sax.”

  Piper and Aggie hovered over the wounded men. Lily wrapped the book back in its newsprint protector. She felt her adrenalin evaporating and sat down in the desk chair.

  “I hear sirens.” Piper ran to the window. “Red lights are spinning.”

  “Thank heavens, they’re here,” Aggie said.

  Detective Jamison, the sheriff, and the ambulance pulled up at Used Stuff and the group dashed into the crime scene. They stared in wonder.

  “The culprits are down and out.” Aggie pointed to Sax and Llewellyn.

  “You ladies responsible for this?” the sheriff asked.

  “Only in part,” Piper said.

  “I’m Detective Jamison of the Groverly Police.” He aimed his badge downward, toward the two men on the floor.

  Aggie spied the ring on Sax’s hand. “Look, he wears a purple sapphire. It belongs to Griffo. He told me someone stole it, but he thought it was Lily.”

  Detective Jamison motioned to the ambulance attendants. “Take these men to the Groverly hospital. They don’t look so good.” He turned to the sheriff. “If they revive, we’ll question them as soon as possible. The three club women will come with me to give statements. And I’ll take custody of the book which I assume is the cause of all this mayhem.” He looked at the package. “Is that it?”

  Lily nodded and stood up. “I’m glad you made it. When we got here, Sax was bleeding on the floor, and the Blanding fellow had the stolen book.” Her hand rested on the newspaper package. “It was Sax who threw the dagger at me in the hospital. I recognized him and we came here to get the book back. We weren’t expecting violence.”

  “I don’t expect you were.” Jamison stood nose to nose with Lily. “I got your message.”

  “The damaged book and the blade?”

  “You had a close call, Lily … ah, Ms. McFae.”

  The close, rainy smell of the detective’s body made her ankles shake. “I’d better sit down again.”

  “Take as much time as you need,” he said. “It’s hard to believe that a woman just out of the hospital and her cohorts could tie up a crime scene so neatly. I’ll have a tough time explaining that.”

  Piper gripped her hands together. “The salesman drank the tea Sax gave him and then he fell over.”

  “Those two men accused each other of the crime,” Aggie said. “We heard them.”

  Lily held up the wrapped package. “Now it’s yours.”

  He took the book from her. “Thanks for guarding this.”

  “Please handle with extreme care. It’s hundreds of years old.”

  “Of course, and it will be delivered to the Jardin family. By me personally.”

  “You should use gloves when you touch it, you know.”

  Before the full force of the storm hit, the sparrow retrieved the dropped sticks that had fallen from the nest and the butterfly left the scene.

  At the goat farm, the women gathered around the returned gypsy wagon and lit candles. The decorated vardo was parked at the end of the driveway roundabout, away from the farm buildings. Aggie explained the gypsy custom of burning the owner’s vehicle after he died. Following tradition, she lit a match and threw it into the kindling under the wagon. The women watched the flames consume the remnants of Aggie’s traveling life with her husband.

  Sax recovered from his dagger wounds, and underwent psychological testing. Judged sane, he was tried for the murder of Llewellyn Blanding and convicted with life imprisonment, no parole. The stack of evidence against him pointed to breaking and entering, theft and credit card fraud, but he maintained to the end that Maxine’s death was accidental. That case was never tried, nor did the Jardin family wish to pursue the death of Duke Quincy.

  Sax spent hours boasting to the police, talking about his criminal maneuvering. “I wanted to be the twin who got big things done. Maxine said I couldn’t plan a fishing trip. But I created an intricate plan. It was the chess game of my life.” Sax smiled. “I wanted to be the talk of the town. And I am.”

  He wore a lacy blouse that matched his sister’s to the trial and entered his cell carrying a copy of Lelia, written by the French woman Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin, the cross-dresser famous for writing under the male name, George Sand.

  The Neubland lawyers denied any knowledge of the activities of their salesman, Llewellyn Blanding. He was buried unceremoniously, and Elcott recommended the company cancel all research on herbs grown during medieval times. The scientists destroyed the experimentation reports and threw the seeds into the dumpster, the contents of which were hauled to the nearest landfill in quick order.

  Behind security doors at R&D, computers spewed out new formulas
, using infinite variations on up-to-date ingredients. Employees in white coats hovered over flasks and Petrie dishes, studying previous trial remedies for persistent health situations that troubled world occupants: itching, allergies, and indigestion.

  Griffo prepared to serve his jail sentence for attacking Lily. From his cell, as reimbursement for goat farm debt, Griffo gave Aggie the gems to resell to a well-known distributor of facsimile jewelry. He also promised that when he was released, he’d seek other relatives to visit.

  A sign went up in Nolan. “Used Stuff Store. For Sale.”

  Once the excitement blew over, Boris packed up his fancy knife collection and tattoo equipment to move on to greener pastures. Soon, another sign appeared in town. “Emporium. For Sale.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Blossoms perfumed the air outside the bookmobile. Inside, a silver stream of light shot through the window, like a river of energy connecting the women assembled there. Lily looked at Aggie and Piper, who waited for the next meeting of The Erotica Book Club to begin. Surrounded by books and friends, the women relaxed in their circle of friendship.

  Piper beamed. “Ladies, you’ll be happy to know Freddie and I talked a good deal about me being afraid to tell him about the lump. And lots more personal things too. Like we’re thinking of having a baby.”

  “Oh, my dear,” Aggie said. “How wonderful.”

  “That’s really exciting.” Lily hugged her friend.

  Piper’s eyebrow lifted. “So, tell us about the detective.”

  Lily frowned. “I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Then I guess we talk about books,” Aggie said.

  Piper waved her hand. “I’m proud to say, I started The Lustful Memoirs of a Young and Passionate Girl, and I’ll pass it on to Aggie soon as I’m done.”

  “And eventually, we might discuss it.” Aggie poured liquid green ambrosia.