An Unthymely Death

by ALBERT, SUSAN WITTIG

  “Research tells us that fourteen out of any ten individuals like chocolate.”—Sandra Boynton, in Chocolate: The Consuming Passion

  Valentine’s Day was just around the corner, and I was taking advantage of a lull in business at the shop to write my annual love letter to McQuaid. I’d just picked up the pen when the door opened and a blond, thin-faced man came in. He walked through the shop, glancing around, as if to make sure that we were alone. I frowned, not liking the furtive way he hunched his shoulders. Thyme and Seasons has never been held up, but there’s always a first time. I was reaching for the phone, just in case, when he came closer and I recognized him.

  “All I really need is love, but a little chocolate now and then doesn’t hurt.”—Lucy (in Peanuts, by Charles M. Schulz)

  “Jason Wagner!” I exclaimed, putting the phone down. “I didn’t recognize you. I guess it’s been a while since we’ve seen one another. Have you been out of town?”

  Jason Wagner is a long-time friend of McQuaid’s. He works in the computer lab at Central Texas State University, where McQuaid teaches courses in the law enforcement program. Every now and then, the three of us get together at Bean’s Bar and Grill for barbecue and a game of pool. Ruby joins us sometimes, too, since she’s known Jason since their high school days.

  “No, I haven’t been out of town,” Jason said soberly. “I guess we just haven’t been hanging out in the same places.” He wasn’t smiling, and his gray eyes had a bleak look.

  I frowned. “Excuse me, but is there something wrong?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, there is. That’s why I came.” He dropped his voice. “Do you know Kaye Kennedy?”

  Pecan Springs is a small town—of course I know Kaye Kennedy. “She’s the woman you’ve been dating,” I replied. Kaye is also a trainer at the gym where Ruby Wilcox and I occasionally work out. I’d always wondered about the relationship, which seemed a little like a mismatch. Jason is slender and shy and very sweet. Kaye is—well, she’s a strong woman. Strong and assertive, with a habit of going after what she wants.

  Chocolate by any other name would taste as sweet: French chocolat, German Schokolade, Italian cioccolato, Hawaiian kokoleka, Danish chokolade.

  “Was dating,” Jason amended. “Put that into the past tense. About three months ago, I started going out with somebody else, and it’s been getting . . . well, serious.” He grinned crookedly. “I told Kaye right away, of course. She didn’t take it very well, and she wouldn’t give up. She hangs around and—” He paused uncomfortably. “To put it bluntly, China, she’s stalking me.”

  “Stalking you?” I asked, startled.

  “Well, I guess that’s the right word.” He sounded embarrassed. “In the evenings, she sits in her car down the block, watching my apartment. She calls up in the middle of the night, and when I answer, she hangs up.”

  “If she hangs up,” I asked reasonably, “how do you know it’s Kaye?”

  “The first time she called, she said—” Jason looked away. “What she said wasn’t very nice.” He swallowed. “To tell the truth, China, this stuff is really getting on my nerves. I’m not exactly afraid for myself—I can probably handle her. I’m more worried that she might try to harm my girlfriend.”

  Knowing Kaye, it wasn’t hard to picture her doing what Jason described. And it wasn’t difficult to imagine her pushing it just a little further—a little too far, in fact. But there was only Jason’s word for it. I defended a man once against a harassment charge that turned out to be phony. The woman involved, who simply wanted to get him into trouble, was charged with making a false accusation.

  “Stalking is a felony offense,” I said firmly. “You need to talk to the police. But you’ll need more evidence than a few hang-up phone calls. Real evidence, I mean.”

  “I don’t want to get Kaye in trouble,” Jason said uneasily. “Actually, I was hoping I could persuade you to . . . well, to talk to her. You’ve been a lawyer, China. You’d know what to say to convince her that she has to cut this stuff out.”

  I could understand where Jason was coming from, and I sympathized. But this wasn’t the way to handle it. “I’d like to help,” I said, “but you need to talk to her yourself, Jason. Warn her, and document your warning with a letter listing the dates and times that you’ve seen her sitting in her car. And make a log of those phone calls. Tape them, if you can. If she keeps it up, go to the police and file a complaint.”

  His shoulders slumped. “I suppose you’re right. Thanks anyway, China.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Hey, how about getting together for dinner at Bean’s one night? I’d like you and Mike—and Ruby, too—to meet my girlfriend.”

  “Sure,” I said in an enthusiastic tone, trying to pep him up. “Would Friday work for you? I’ll check with Ruby to see if she’s free.”

  “Friday would be great,” he said, and raised his hand. “See you then. Meanwhile, happy Valentine’s Day.”

  The next day, after we closed the shops, Ruby and I exchanged our annual handmade Valentine’s gifts. She gave me a heart-shaped red bowl filled with rose potpourri, and I gave her a potted chocolate mint plant, decorated with a pair of chocolate hearts and tied with a red ribbon. We were exchanging thank- you and you’re-welcome hugs when McQuaid opened the door and came in.

  Ruby’s Rose Potpourri

  In a large bowl, mix together 3 cups red rose petals and buds, 1 cup pink rose petals, ¼ cup carnation petals, and ¼ cup red globe amaranth blossoms. Mix 4 drops rose essential oil with 2 tablespoons powdered orris root (a fixative), and add to the flowers. Place in a covered container and allow to mellow for 6 weeks, shaking the mixture every few days. If scent fades, renew with rose oil.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” Ruby said. She gave him a concerned look. “Hey, what’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

  “I’ve just come from the hospital.” McQuaid pushed back a shock of dark hair and turned to me. “Jason Wagner is in pretty bad shape. He’s in a coma.”

  “A coma!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “The doctor says it was a heroin overdose,” McQuaid replied glumly.

  “Jason OD’d?” Ruby was shocked. “I never would’ve guessed that he’d do drugs.”

  “It’s hard for me to believe, too.” McQuaid’s eyes were sad. “Jason’s a health nut. He works out at the gym every day, and he’s always careful about what he eats. I just can’t understand why he’d do something like this to himself.”

  I was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. “Jason came into the shop yesterday,” I said slowly. “He was having some trouble. He asked me to help, but I told him it was something he needed to handle himself.”

  “Trouble?” McQuaid frowned. “What kind of trouble?”

  “Girl trouble, I’ll bet,” Ruby said darkly.

  “What makes you think that?” I asked. Ruby is uncannily intuitive and she often sees things that other people overlook.

  “I’ve noticed Kaye Kennedy hanging around him at the gym,” Ruby replied. “He tries to brush her off, but he doesn’t seem to have much luck. You know Jason. He’s not very assertive. And Kaye—” She shrugged. “She doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “That’s true,” I replied thoughtfully. “When she wants something, she goes for it.”

  Ruby was eyeing me. “You don’t suppose—”

  Chocolate mint is one of the many varieties of flavored mints. In general, mint is an easy-to-grow herb—too easy, sometimes, since it can be invasive. Growing it in a pot is a good way to be sure that it doesn’t go wandering off into the next yard, or the next county! Chocolate mint lends itself to a variety of uses. Add a fresh sprig to the ground coffee beans when you’re brewing coffee, or 2 tablespoons chopped fresh leaves to a packaged brownie or chocolate cake mix.

  “Of course not,” I scoffed. “Kaye may be upset because Jason broke up with her, but she’d never do a thing like that. Suppose he died? It’d be murder.”

  “A thing like what?” McQua
id looked from one of us to the other, scowling. “Murder? What are you two talking about?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Ruby said hastily. “We were just . . . weren’t we, China?”

  “Yeah, right.” I pushed back my chair and stood up. “Did I understand that my husband is taking us both out to celebrate Valentine’s Day?”

  Ruby shook her head. “I’m invited to a party. You guys go out and have a romantic candlelight dinner, just the two of you.”

  “Romance,” I said. “Great idea.” I looked at McQuaid, thinking how nice it would be to drive down to San Antonio, where there’s a wonderful little French restaurant. “Where shall we eat?”

  Like everything else under the sun, innocent plants can be put to harmful uses. This is certainly true of the opium poppy (Papaver somniferum), which ancient Greek and Egyptian physicians welcomed as a gift from Morpheus, the god of sleep, to ease human suffering. But this narcotic herb is powerfully addictive, and its derivatives—laudanum, morphine, opium, and heroin—have been the cause of enormous human suffering. If you would like to grow Papaver somniferum, check your state statutes and local ordinances and be sure to plant away from children. The poppy seeds available for culinary use do indeed come from the opium poppy, but have no narcotic effect because they are dried. Blue poppy seeds are traditional in many cakes, cookies, and Christmas breads. White poppy seeds are used in Indian cooking, to thicken and flavor sauces, lentils, and rice dishes.

  “How about Bean’s Bar and Grill?” McQuaid grinned. “I sure could get romantic over a plate of Bob’s fajitas. And maybe we could shoot some pool afterward, huh?”

  I made a face. Fajitas and pool at Bean’s, with the jukebox playing “Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys” in the background. Not exactly what I had in mind for a romantic dinner.

  But McQuaid put his arm around me and nuzzled my ear. “Just kidding,” he said. “Remember that French place you like in San Antonio? We’ve got reservations there. Let’s go home and change, shall we?”

  Fajitas are a speciality at Bean’s Bar and Grill, a down-home eatery in Pecan Springs. But you don’t have to drive all the way to Texas to enjoy this Tex-Mex dish. At China’s request, Bob Godwin, owner and chief cook at Bean’s, has modified his recipe to serve six to eight people.

  BOB GODWIN’S FAMOUS FAJITAS

  Marinade:

  1 cup salsa (Bob makes his, but you can purchase yours)

  2 cups vinegar-and-oil dressing (homemade or purchased)

  1 onion, chopped

  3 cloves garlic, chopped

  1 (4-ounce) can jalapeño peppers

  2 teaspoons cumin

  2 pounds skirt steak

  18 flour tortillas

  Guacamole (homemade or purchased)

  Onion, chopped

  Tomatoes, chopped

  Yellow cheese, grated

  Salsa

  Sour cream

  Cilantro, chopped

  Combine ingredients for marinade and pour over the meat. Cover tightly and refrigerate overnight. Pour off juices and reserve. Grill, pan-fry, or bake steak (if you bake, it takes about 45 minutes at 350°F), basting with marinade. Slice meat thinly, and roll into a warm flour tortilla. Smother with guacamole, onions, tomatoes, and cheese. Dollop with more salsa and some sour cream, and sprinkle with cilantro. Traditionally served with refried beans, rice, tortilla chips, and lots of salsa. Olé!

  “Go to Jason’s apartment?” I stared at Ruby over my morning coffee. “You’ve got to be kidding, Ruby. If you think I’m going to risk arrest just so you can play Nancy Drew—”

  “We won’t get arrested,” Ruby said in a reassuring tone. “It turns out that my friend Ginger manages the apartment complex where Jason lives. I ran into her at the party last night. I told her that he was in the hospital, and that you and I needed to feed his cat. She agreed to let us in.”

  “His cat?” I frowned. “How do you know he has a cat?”

  “If he doesn’t, we can lend him yours.” Ruby wrinkled her nose. “I told Ginger we’d be there on our lunch hour. Anyway, what are you worried about? I called the hospital. Jason’s condition remains the same. They’re still saying that he OD’d, so it isn’t a crime scene.” She took the last of Lila’s irresistible jelly doughnuts off the plate and began to nibble at it.

  I sighed. When Ruby makes up her mind to do something, there’s no point trying to argue with her. Which is why, at twelve-fifteen that afternoon, I found myself unlocking the door to Jason Wagner’s three-room apartment, on the first floor of an apartment complex on San Jacinto. The place was unusually tidy, considering that a guy lived there, although the air was stuffy and the potted herbs on the windowsill—thyme, chives, and parsley—were desperate for a drink.

  “What do you suppose we’re looking for?” Ruby asked, as I watered the herbs.

  “You tell me,” I said. “This was your bright idea.” I paused. “Where’s the cat?”

  “I don’t think a cat would be much help,” Ruby said, looking around, “unless he had Koko’s brains. What we need is an answering machine. Qwilleran always checks the answering machine to see if the villain has left any messages.” But although we searched the entire apartment, we couldn’t find one. “Go figure,” Ruby said finally, sounding frustrated. “A good-looking single guy without an answering machine? Doesn’t make sense.”

  I went into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and peered inside. “If Jason is into drugs,” I remarked over my shoulder, “there’s certainly no sign of it here. All I can find is a bottle of garlic caps and another of St. John’s wort.” I frowned down at the bottles in my hand. In my experience, people who take drugs aren’t very likely to be involved with herbal medicine.

  Ruby was rummaging in the drawer of the table beside Jason’s bed. “Nothing here, either,” she said. She went into the kitchen, and a moment later I heard her call. “China, I’ve found something!” She sounded excited. “Chocolate brownies!”

  “Lunch first, dessert later,” I called back. I picked up a bottle of ginseng caps. Ginseng is sometimes used by people who are worried about the harmful effects of toxic substances on the liver. Maybe Jason was into drugs, after all.

  “I don’t want you to eat them, silly,” Ruby said impatiently. “I want you to look at them.”

  I went into the kitchen. On the counter was a small cardboard box, half-filled with what looked like homemade chocolate brownies.

  “Do you suppose somebody sent him these?” Ruby asked. “If so, I wonder what else is in them—besides chocolate, I mean.” She looked longingly at the brownies, which were chocolaty-rich and inviting. “They certainly do look wonderful. And half of them are already gone. I suppose he ate them.”

  Garlic, St. John’s wort, and ginseng are three currently popular herbal remedies.

  • Garlic has been used as a healing herb for centuries. It has broad-spectrum antibiotic properties and kills the bacteria that cause many infections. According to recent research, garlic helps to reduce blood pressure, lower cholesterol, and prevent the blood clots that cause strokes and heart attacks. It also reduces blood sugar levels and may help in the treatment of diabetes.

  • St. John’s wort (wort is the Anglo-Saxon word for plant) has made headlines during the past decade as a treatment for mild to moderate depression. Through the centuries, however, it has been used in a wide variety of ways, to treat wounds, asthma, sciatica, diarrhea, and menstrual discomforts. Recent research suggests that it may be helpful against some retroviruses, including HIV, as well as in the treatment of alcoholism.

  • Ginseng has a centuries-old reputation as an energizer, a memory aid, an aphrodisiac, an antidepressant, and an immune enhancer. It seems to work as what herbalists call an adaptogen, a substance that helps the body adjust to change and stress. Ginseng may also protect the liver from the harmful effects of drugs and other toxic substances.

  If you’re interested in learning more about the healing properties of herbs, consul
t The New Healing Herbs: The Classic Guide to Nature’s Best Medicines, by Michael Castleman.

  “We can ask McQuaid to get them tested at the DPS crime lab in Austin,” I said. McQuaid has done a couple of jobs for the Department of Public Safety, and he knows almost everyone there. “An analysis would tell us the contents, for sure.” I frowned. “But I think Jason would be suspicious of anything Kaye sent him, even if he loved chocolate. This must have come from somebody else.”

  “But who?” Ruby asked.

  I bent over the garbage pail and pulled out a padded mailing envelope, being careful to hold it with the tips of my fingers. “Maybe this is our answer,” I said. “It’s addressed to Jason Wagner.”

  “Does it have a return address?” Ruby asked excitedly.

  The ink was badly smudged, and it took a minute to decipher it. “The first name seems to be Phyllis,” I said. “The last name looks like Anderson.”

  “The address?” Ruby asked. As I read it aloud, she copied it onto a scrap of paper. “Phyllis Anderson,” she muttered. “Who the heck is she?”

  McQuaid was headed into Austin that afternoon, so he took what was left of the chocolate brownies, and the mailing envelope as well. Back at the shop, Ruby phoned Ginger, the manager of Jason’s apartment building, and learned that Phyllis Anderson was Jason’s girlfriend.

  She put down the phone and turned to me. “And guess where Phyllis works, China. At the drug treatment center! She might have had access to heroin.”

  If reading about Jason’s brownies is making you hungry, here’s a recipe with almost enough chocolate to die for. But do try to keep those cravings in check until you’ve finished the story.

  TWICE-AS-MUCH-CHOCOLATE BROWNIES

  5 (1-ounce) squares bittersweet chocolate

  ¼ cup butter or margarine

  ¼ cup flour

  2 tablespoons cocoa (unsweetened)