Finally, Marie broke the silence. “You don’t believe in what I do.” It was a statement, a challenge.
“I’m sure that you believe in it,” Annie began, “but I’ve always been a little skeptical. I’ve never had any sort of experience that would make me think that there’s any way for those who’ve died to communicate with us.” She kept her tone light and polite, trying not to offend her houseguest. Annie thought very briefly of the redbird she’d seen the morning that she’d found Lou’s body. Did she believe in some sort of afterlife where the dead could visit the living? Her head told her no, but her heart wanted very badly to think that there was a way she might be able to speak to her father again.
With a small shudder, Annie realized that this was probably how Lou Ross had operated. Maybe not by tricking people into believing that he could commune with spirits, but by preying on the things their hearts wanted most, convincing them to ignore the sound judgments that their brains tried to make, and twisting their desires against them, separating his victims from their money by lying to them about how he could give them what they most wanted.
Annie took a deep breath. “Miss Robichaud, can I help you with anything?”
Marie smiled again, the same vapid smile that she always seemed to have pasted on her face. Annie couldn’t help but wonder if the woman was on some sort of drug. She tried to discreetly sniff the air for telltale signs that the woman may have been smoking something. She got a distinctive whiff of cinnamon and patchouli, and a slight hint of something earthy and mellow, nothing too sketchy.
“I actually came to ask if it would be alright if I lit some incense and did a small smudging ritual, you know, to clear the air?”
Annie wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion. “What’s wrong with the air? Is it your room--I’m sorry, that musty smell is just part of the house. I can get you some air freshener if that would help.”
“Smudging is simply a cleansing ritual to remove bad karma and bless a space,” Marie explained. “It’s very simple, and there’s not nearly as much smoke as you’d think.”
Annie’s mouth made a small ‘o’, then closed again. “You mean sage burning, don’t you?” Marie nodded enthusiastically. “Well, I don’t mind if you do it in your own room, as long as there’s no risk of fire. I’d rather you didn’t burn incense, though. I’d be afraid that the cat might find her way into your room and knock it over. One fire is quite enough for one week,” she added, trying to make light of the fire from the night before.
“Well, yes, I could see how you’d be nervous about that,” Marie agreed. “If you change your mind and would like for me to use my sage in any other parts of the house, or down by the pond--”
Annie put a hand up, cutting her off. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
Marie smiled again and turned to wander off towards the sitting room. Annie rubbed her temples and pulled the bottle of antacids from her pocket. Something fell out of her pocket and hit the floor, skittering to a stop by her foot. She bent to retrieve the small plastic lid that she’d found earlier, having forgotten completely that it had been in her pocket all along. She moved to toss the errant bit of plastic into the garbage but decided to keep it instead. She didn’t want to find the bottle it belonged to later and regret tossing the little lid, so she sat it on the windowsill above the sink.
Annie rinsed out her coffee cup from earlier and wiped down the counter, then struggled to decide what she should do next. She knew that there was likely to be a million things that needed to be done, from cleaning the house to preparing the food that would be cooked later for supper, but all she really wanted to do was lie down and take a nap. Knowing that this was a bad idea (she’d probably sleep like the dead and wake up feeling miserable,) she settled on going to find Devon and making sure that Karma hadn’t destroyed her son’s room the night before.
As she started up the stairs, Annie was greeted by the sound of someone calling her name. “Mrs. Richards, do you have a minute?”
Annie cringed inwardly as Alexander George approached and stopped just inches from her face. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can you see my eyes? Are they terribly red?”
Annie looked at the man’s watery eyes, which were slightly red, but not alarmingly so. “They do look a little irritated,” she conceded.
“I’m not surprised. I can’t find my eyedrops anywhere, and that cat has been all over my bed, I just know it. I found a hair on my pillow,” he declared, “and I’m sure it’s the same color as the feline.”
He held a hair that was far too long to belong to the cat. “I believe that’s a human hair,” she replied, “but I’ll be happy to wash your bedding for you. I’m not sure how the cat would have gotten into your room--you do keep your door closed when you leave?”
He looked at her as though she’d just begun speaking a foreign language. “Of course, I do. I have a method,” he continued. “I close the door, then I test the knob to make sure it’s locked, then I unlock the door to make sure my key still works, and then I close it up again and wiggle it again, to make sure it’s locked.” He rubbed at his eyes. “It’s a very sound method,” he added.
Annie was beginning to realize that Alexander George was far stranger than she’d first believed. His compulsive behavior would have been amusing if he hadn’t been so pitiful standing there with his weepy eyes.
“What type of eyedrops do you use? I may have some downstairs in my medicine cabinet that you could use.”
“Oh, no,” he replied. “I couldn’t use yours. You should never share medications,” he explained. “Do you think I could ask that Rory fellow to drive me to the pharmacy to buy some more?”
“Rory’s gone to collect Mr. Martin, Miss Fitzsimmons, and Mr. Reynolds from their fishing trip, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you as soon as he comes back.” She gestured to his room. “Would you like me to change the bedding for you in the meantime?”
Alexander shook his head. “No, I already put on a clean set of sheets. I always travel with a spare, just in case,” he stated, as though this was something everyone did. “And I’m not angry at the cat, just so you know. But, I would love to know how the clever little creature managed to get into my locked bedroom, that’s for sure.” He laughed heartily, as though he’d just told the world’s funniest joke. “Oh, can you imagine her standing on her little furry paws, picking the lock!” He stood there for a moment, lost in his own thoughts, then he spoke again. “Thank you for helping me, Mrs. Richards. I think I’ll just go and wait in the sitting room until Rory comes back.” He didn’t wait for her to respond, but strode down the stairs and turned to head into the sitting room.
Exasperated at the strange exchange, Annie headed down the hallway. At least there were no more guests left upstairs who could complain to her or ask her crazy questions. She let out a long, loud sigh in defiance of her responsibilities, and hoped that Karma wouldn’t have another mess for her to clean up.
15
A Dead Man’s Forwarding Address
“I think I’m going to be sick again.” Kizzy hugged the bowl that Bessie had given her and pulled her knees up to her chest. Her face was pale and a fine sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call our local doctor’s office?” Annie asked, not for the first time.
Kizzy looked at Rob, who was in a similar state, hugging his own bowl. He closed his eyes for a moment, then responded. “I don’t see what a doctor could do that Bessie’s not already doing,” he answered. Bessie had given them both a dose of activated charcoal, just in case their sickness was caused by something that they’d eaten. Annie chided her mother for playing doctor and possibly taking risks with their guests’ health, but neither Rob nor Kizzy seemed worse for having taken it. In fact, they had both perked up considerably since they’d arrived back at the house.
Despite Kizzy’s announcement, she wasn’t sick, and within a few hours of returning from the pond, both hous
eguests were feeling well enough to nibble saltine crackers and sip ginger ale. Bessie fluttered nearby most of the time, fussing over the two just as if they were her own children.
Annie quizzed Rob about his illness, hoping to figure out why he and Kizzy had become so sick when Frank was absolutely fine. “Did you all eat anything different from everyone else this morning?”
Rob shook his head. “Not that I know of. I had toast, I think Kizzy had the same thing, and we all drank the tea that Bessie put in the thermos for us.”
“Uh, no, actually that’s not true,” Frank chimed in. “I had water. Brought a bottle for each of us, but I’m the only one who drank mine.”
Bessie’s face went white. “Oh, no--do you think the tea was bad?”
“I’ve never gotten sick from drinking bad tea before,” Rob assured her, “and in any case, it tasted just fine.” He took a small sip of his ginger ale. “You know, I haven’t been that sick since college,” he said. “My roommate decided it would be fun to spike my beer with Visine,” he continued.
“Visine eyedrops?” Bessie asked, shaking her head. “Oh, how awful! It’s a wonder he didn’t kill you,” she exclaimed.
“Oh, I don’t think it would have killed me,” Rob assured her, “but it made me as sick as a dog for a day or so. Of course, I didn’t have someone to look after me and give me charcoal,” he said, smiling at the woman. “You remind me so much of my grandmother. She was always coming up with these home remedies that sounded crazy, but they always seemed to work.”
Bessie returned his smile with one of her own. “Sometimes, the old ways are the best,” she replied.
Annie rolled her eyes. She knew for a fact that her mother had only bought those charcoal tablets over the summer after she’d taken an interest in holistic medicine. But to hear Bessie talk, Annie would swear the woman thought of herself as some sort of granny witch or medicine woman.
Bessie excused herself to go to the kitchen and Doris followed, chatting away with Bessie about herbs and teas. Frank excused himself, too, opting for a nap after his fishing adventure. Annie envied him. She was feeling the effects of her lack of sleep more than ever and debating another cup of coffee when Rob touched her arm.
“Annie, I don’t want to alarm you, but I think somebody put something in our tea.”
Annie sat up straight in her chair. “What?”
“Shhh,” he whispered, “let’s keep this between us for now. I believe that someone put something in the flask of tea that Kizzy and I drank from, something to make us really sick.”
Annie glanced over at Kizzy, who had her eyes closed. “Who? Why? Rob, why would someone want to hurt you and Kizzy?” Annie’s mind turned the situation over and over in her head. Three guests went out, two got sick. Frank had conveniently avoided the tea, and he’d been sniffing around the deck the evening before the fire. Then there was his angry outburst about the dead man in her pond--she suddenly felt sick herself.
Rob shook his head. “I don’t know. And I’m not sure why someone would want me sick, maybe even sick enough to leave this place.”
“Maybe even dead?” Annie’s voice cracked as she spoke quietly. “What if someone was trying to poison you?”
Rob looked thoughtful. “I want to send the tea to Emmett to see if he can have it tested. If there’s something in there, maybe we can figure out who tampered with the tea.”
Annie nodded. “I’m sure Emmett could tell us if there’s something in the tea. I’ll take it over there right away.” Annie made a move to rise from the chair, but Rob stopped her.
“I could be wrong, and this could be just a fluke, some sort of bug or bad food, but I have a real hunch that someone tried to make me very sick, and I want to know why. Let’s keep this quiet for now, if you don’t mind.”
Annie nodded. “I’ll be discreet. You just keep an eye out for any other suspicious activities.” She hesitated, then added, “Why do you think Frank avoided the tea?”
Rob laughed. “Because Kizzy wouldn’t put the thermos down. And I don’t think he’s much of a tea drinker. I guess that’s just lucky for him,” he finished.
Yeah, very lucky, indeed. Annie rose from her chair and headed straight for the kitchen. If she knew her mother, there was a chance that the picnic basket had already been emptied and the dishes washed. She only hoped that she wasn’t too late to get the thermos filled with tea so she could pay Emmett yet another visit. This time, at least, she didn’t have a dead body to go along with the tea, and for that, she was very grateful.
A postcard in the mailbox notified Annie that she had a package waiting at the post office. She sorted through the rest of the mail quickly, tossed a few junk circulars, and piled the rest on the dashboard of her truck. Rory sat in the passenger seat, sweating as he waited for the AC to kick in. “Gotta run by the post office to pick up a package,” she told him. “You mind if we do that first?”
Rory shook his head. “You’re driving. We could go wherever you want,” he replied, a tired grin creeping onto his lips. “How about we grab us a cold drink while we’re out? As long as it’s not tea,” he joked, shaking the thermos of tea he held in his lap.
“Thanks for riding with me to see Emmett.” Annie turned out of her driveway and onto the road. She could see the heat shimmering above the asphalt and hear the gentle thump of her tires against the road as they headed towards town. “I know you have a million things to do back at the house--”
Rory laughed. “Like I’d get anything done in this heat. Besides, your guests keep asking me questions, and that’s not really my thing.”
Annie was curious. “What kinds of questions?”
“Well, that Alexander fellow keeps asking me all kinds of questions about the history of the house, who built which part and when. He’s a strange fellow, isn’t he?” Annie nodded. “I think he might be one of those savants, you know. That man is like a walking encyclopedia when it comes to old houses. He was telling me all about the types of wood they used in the seventeen-hundreds, what kinds of tools they used, all sorts of stuff.”
Annie glanced at Rory to see if he was joking. “Really? Wow, he’s hardly said ten words to me,” she replied. “And he is definitely strange. But, I guess if he was some sort of savant, it might explain his odd social behavior.”
Rory continued. “That psychic lady rubs me the wrong way.” Annie laughed, and Rory corrected himself. “I mean, she just grates on my nerves. All this ‘the spirits are restless’ crap--and I’m not the only one who doesn’t care for her,” he confided.
“I know, Devon told me she irritates him, too.”
“No, not Devon. The dog.”
Annie laughed. “Karma doesn’t like her? It’s probably because she smells like potpourri,” she added, thinking to herself that the woman could use a good wash.
“I don’t know what it is, but that pup likes everyone except Marie. I tend to trust dogs’ opinions of people, and your dog has been pretty clear. He barks at her like crazy every time she gets near him.”
“Rory, you can’t just mistrust someone because the dog barks at them. Maybe she looks like someone he used to know. I doubt very seriously that Karma would have any reason to dislike Marie; it’s not like she’s done anything to him.” Annie turned onto Main Street and drove on past the police station, then took a right onto the road that led to the post office.
She found a parking spot and parked the truck. Rory pointed across the street to a small convenience store. “How about I run over there and grab us a couple of cokes while you get your mail?”
“Make mine a diet coke, and you’ve got a deal.” Annie gave Rory a little wink. “Gotta keep my girlish figure,” she added with just a hint of sarcasm, patting her slightly rounded tummy. She’d gained nearly ten pounds since she’d moved back to Coopersville, but weight loss was the last thing on her mind. What with starting a new business, solving murders, and keeping her mother out of trouble, Annie had better things to do than worry about a few ext
ra pounds.
“You need a diet coke like I need another hole in my head, woman.” Rory headed across the street, and five minutes later he was back, cold drinks in hand.
Annie had breezed into the post office and back out again in record time. She was surprised to find not one, but two, plain brown packages waiting for her inside. The clerk just shrugged and passed them over, barely glancing at Annie’s driver’s license as he compared the signatures when she signed to collect them. She was back in the truck before Rory, shaking the boxes gently and debating whether she should open them there or wait until she got back home.
“You going to open it?” Rory twisted open his soft drink slowly, letting the slow hiss of carbonation punctuate his question.
“Nah,” she decided finally. “It’s probably the back to school stuff I ordered for Devon. It can wait until we get back to the house..” She passed the boxes to Rory and took her own drink. It was cold and soothing, just what she needed.
Rory examined the smaller of the two packages. It was about the length and width of a textbook. “It’s heavy,” he noted. “I wouldn’t want to be a student these days, that’s for sure.” He settled the packages on the floor beside his feet. “Didn’t you say that the dead guy was having a package delivered to the house?” His question caught Annie off-guard. “What are you going to do with that package?” he asked.
“Take it to Emmett, I guess,” Annie replied. “He’ll know what to do with it. After all, it’s not like Mr. Ross left any forwarding address.”
Rory shrugged in agreement. “I guess you’re right,” he replied. “Unless you want to toss it in the pond, you know, his last known address.”
Annie groaned. “That’s totally not funny,” she shot back. “I bet the address he gave me when he booked was a fake one,” she mused. “Probably the credit card was bogus, too. Sheesh, I never thought about having to worry about this kind of stuff when I first thought about opening a bed-and-breakfast.”
Corpses & Conmen (Rosewood Place Mysteries Book 2) Page 11
