An Unthymely Death

by ALBERT, SUSAN WITTIG

  1 teaspoon baking powder

  ½ teaspoon salt

  3 eggs

  ¾ cup granulated sugar

  1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

  ¼ cup sour cream

  4 ounces chocolate chips

  Heat oven to 325°F. Lightly grease a 9×9×2‘ square cake pan and dust with dry cocoa. In the top of a double boiler over medium-high heat, or in a microwave, melt chocolate and butter or margarine together. Stir until smooth. Sift flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt together into a small bowl. In a medium bowl, beat eggs, sugar, and vanilla until slightly thickened. Add melted chocolate mixture and blend. Add sifted dry ingredients and stir to mix well. Add sour cream and blend, scraping sides and bottom of bowl with a spatula. With a spatula, fold in chocolate chips. Spread batter evenly in pan and bake about 40 minutes, until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. Yes, you can leave a little in the bowl for licking, if you can’t stand to wait for the pan to come out of the oven. But do try to allow the baked brownies to cool in the pan for 10 to 15 minutes before cutting and eating every last one of them. Yields twelve to eighteen.

  “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?” I asked, turning away from the shelf where I was stocking herbal soaps. “We have no idea what’s in those brownies, Ruby. And why would Jason’s girlfriend want to harm him? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  Ruby was confident. “We’ll find out when we talk to her. Let’s go over after we close for the day.”

  “We can decide that after we’ve heard from McQuaid,” I said firmly. “Chances are that those are just ordinary brownies, with nothing in them but a lot of chocolate.”

  But I was wrong. That evening, just as I was closing out my cash register, McQuaid called to confirm that the brownies we found in Jason’s apartment had been liberally laced with heroin.

  “Enough to kill a horse,” he added grimly. “And the only prints on the mailing envelope belong to Jason. Whoever wrapped that package went to the trouble of wearing gloves.”

  “Thanks for the information,” I said. I paused. “It’s your turn to cook dinner tonight, isn’t it? I’ll probably be a little late. Ruby is giving me a ride home, and we need to stop and see somebody.”

  “China,” McQuaid said in a warning tone, “we’re not talking accidental drug overdose any longer. This is a case of attempted murder. It’s a matter for the police.”

  “Yes, I know,” I said quietly. “See you later, babe.”

  Phyllis Anderson lived in a small house not far from the clinic where she worked. When she answered our knock, her brown hair was disheveled and her eyes were red, and I knew she’d been crying. Ruby and I identified ourselves as friends of Jason and asked if we could talk.

  Phyllis’s eyes widened and she clutched at the doorknob. “He’s not worse, is he? I was just on my way to the hospital.”

  “No,” I said. “May we come in? This won’t take long.”

  We talked for fifteen minutes or so. Afterward, as we walked out to the car, Ruby said earnestly, “China, I believe Phyllis when she says that she didn’t send Jason any brownies. And I don’t believe she would try to poison him. She seems to genuinely love him.”

  “She certainly gives every appearance of telling the truth,” I said cautiously. Past experience has taught me that even the nicest people are capable of lying—and much worse. “But there’s someone else we ought to see this evening,” I said. “She doesn’t live very far from here.” Within five minutes, Ruby was parking her car in front of Kaye Kennedy’s house.

  Kaye lived in a large duplex, with window boxes planted with blooming pansies. Obviously, somebody in the house had a green thumb. Ruby rang the doorbell several times. Finally, it was opened a crack and a tremulous voice with a distinctive Southern accent asked, “Who is it? What do you want?”

  In Pecan Springs and in much of the South, pansies bloom through the winter. You didn’t know that this cheerful spring flower is an herb? In earlier times, the pansy was an important medicinal plant, and its juice was used to treat respiratory ailments, children’s convulsions, and epilepsy. It was also considered a powerful love potion. If pansy juice were dropped on the eyelids of someone who slept, he or she would fall in love with the first person who came into view—who would most likely be the one who was administering the eyedrops. In Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream, this little trick leads to some delightful romantic mix-ups. But the pansy was also taken seriously as a healer of broken hearts—hence, its common name heartsease.

  “China Bayles and Ruby Wilcox,” I said. “We’ve come to see Kaye. Is she home?”

  “Wait here and I’ll see,” the woman said and stepped back, leaving the door partway open. From the rear of the house, we could hear voices. After several moments, Kaye Kennedy came to the door.

  “Well?” she demanded brusquely. “What do you want?”

  “You’d probably rather we talked inside,” I said. “It’s about Jason Wagner—and I don’t think you want your neighbors to overhear.”

  A moment later, we were seated in the living room. The woman who had first answered the door came in. “There are soft drinks in the fridge,” she said tentatively. “May I—”

  “Thanks, Dora, but I don’t think our guests are staying long,” Kaye said. “And didn’t you say you have some laundry to do?” Dismissed, Dora dropped her head and obediently disappeared.

  “So, what’s all this about?” Kaye demanded. She was dark-haired, of middle height and muscular, and her dark eyes were intense. She glanced at Ruby, then at me. “Don’t I know you?”

  “We’ve met at the gym,” Ruby said smoothly. “We’re friends of Jason’s. I suppose you’ve heard what happened to him.”

  If Kaye was disturbed by the question, she didn’t betray it. “Somebody told me he was in the hospital,” she said. “I didn’t catch the details.”

  “It was an overdose of heroin,” I said. “He’s in a coma.”

  Something came and went in her eyes and she hesitated. But her voice was flat when she said, “I wouldn’t have thought Jason would do drugs, but the quiet ones fool you every time.”

  “It was an accidental overdose,” Ruby said. She frowned. “Accidental on his part, I mean—but deliberate on somebody else’s. He received a package of brownies with heroin in them. He was poisoned.”

  Kaye’s eyes widened. “Poisoned? You’ve got to be kidding. Who would want to poison Jason? He’s such a sweet guy.”

  Who, indeed? I thought. “Fortunately for him, he ate only a few, which is why he isn’t dead right now. The police lab tested the rest and identified the heroin.” I paused. “Jason told me he was being stalked, so we suspect that it was the stalker who sent them.”

  Kaye’s eyes slid away. “I don’t know why you’re telling me all this,” she said.

  “We thought you might be able to suggest who might have wanted to kill him,” I replied. “After all, you and he were close friends.”

  Kaye looked uncomfortable. “Yes, but that was months ago. He’s seeing someone else now.”

  “Maybe it was somebody at the gym,” Ruby suggested. “Can you think of anyone there who had a grudge against Jason?”

  “Not a soul,” Kaye said, shaking her head. “Everybody seemed to like him. I’m sorry I can’t help,” she added, her voice softening. “What Jason and I had was good, while it lasted. I hope they find whoever did it.”

  Ruby sighed. “Well, now that the cops know about the brownies, they’ll be searching the apartment. I’m sure they’ll find the audiotape, and the mystery will be solved.”

  I turned with a questioning look to Ruby, but Kaye beat me to it. “Tape?” she asked sharply. “What tape?”

  “Jason told us that he taped the stalker’s first phone call,” Ruby replied. “Apparently what the guy said left no doubt as to his identity.”

  Kaye’s eyes were fixed on Ruby’s face. “The stalker was a man?”

  “Actually, Jason didn’t say,�
�� Ruby replied. “But we’ll find out when the police turn up that tape.” She stood up. “Thanks for talking with us, Kaye.”

  “Keep me posted,” Kaye replied, rising as well. “I’m really sorry to hear what happened to him.” Somehow, I didn’t quite believe her. And on the way out, I noticed that the kitchen door was just swinging shut. Dora had been listening.

  When we got to the car, I turned to Ruby. “What’s all this about an audiotape?” I demanded. “What do you know that I don’t?”

  Ruby put the key in the ignition. “Not a thing,” she said innocently, starting the car and pulling away from the curb. “You know everything I know.”

  “Then why—” I frowned at her. “Where are we going?”

  “To Jason’s apartment, of course,” Ruby said. “When you bait a trap, you want be around when it’s sprung, don’t you?”

  With a sigh, I reached in my bag for my cell phone. “I told McQuaid I’d be a little late for dinner. Guess I’d better call him and tell him to go ahead without me.”

  “I’m sure that Jason must appreciate you two taking such good care of his cat,” Ginger said when we knocked on her door and asked her to let us into Jason’s apartment again. She frowned. “Funny thing—I didn’t even know he had a cat.”

  “It’s just a kitten,” Ruby said quickly. “In fact, I think I’ll take her home with me tonight, so she won’t be lonely.”

  “Good idea,” Ginger said. She gave us the key and went back to watching TV.

  It was just after eight when Ruby and I sat down at the table in Jason’s shadowy kitchen. A streetlight outside cast lacy shadows through the window. I thought fleetingly, and hungrily, of those brownies. It had been a long time since lunch.

  “So,” Ruby said, “I guess we just sit here in the dark and wait, huh?”

  “I suppose you’re thinking that Kaye may show up,” I said.

  “Exactly.” Ruby sounded smug. “She’ll figure she’s got to get her hands on that tape to protect herself. Pretty smart, huh?”

  “Well, maybe,” I said. “Unfortunately, though, I don’t think you’ve thought this thing through.”

  Ruby frowned. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, just for instance, what happens when Kaye shows up?”

  “We grab her,” Ruby said promptly. “I know she’s strong, but there are two of us. After we’ve grabbed her, we call nine-one-one and report that we’ve caught a burglar.”

  I laughed shortly. “You’ve been reading too many Stephanie Plum mysteries, Ruby. So what if we capture her? There’s no evidence that she sent those brownies.”

  Ruby frowned. “You don’t think she’ll confess? After all, if she’s apprehended in the act of breaking and entering—”

  “I doubt it,” I replied dryly. “Unless Jason recovers and agrees to testify against her, we can’t tie her to the stalking. And there doesn’t seem to be any sort of physical evidence connecting her to the brownies. Without that—” I looked at Ruby, who had gone to the counter and pulled out the drawer beside the sink. “What are you doing?”

  “I keep my unpaid bills in the utensil drawer,” she said. “I was just thinking that maybe—” She riffled through a stack of envelopes, pulled out a piece of paper, and held it up in the dim light. “Hey, here’s something interesting. It’s about his telephone service.” Then she looked at me, her eyes wide. “Did you hear that?” she whispered.

  “I heard it,” I said.

  Somebody had come up the short flight of stairs and was standing outside the kitchen door. Then we both heard the sound of something stealthily inserted in the lock.

  “Jason must have given her a key when they were going together,” Ruby whispered. The paper fluttered from her hand onto the floor. “Get ready, China! We need to grab her the minute she comes in.” Quickly, she stationed herself to one side of the door, motioning me to take the other side.

  But at that moment, a dog began to bark in the apartment next door. “What are you barking at, Renegade?” a woman called. More barking. “Is somebody out there?” the woman cried. “Go away, or I’ll call the police.”

  The key was withdrawn from the lock and we heard the sound of footsteps clattering down the stairs.

  “Rats,” Ruby said in disgust. “That darn dog.” She turned on the light. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in hanging around here any longer. After all that racket, Kaye won’t be coming back tonight.”

  “It’s just as well,” I said. “Since she has a key, she could always claim she was just stopping by to get something she’d left here. She couldn’t be charged with breaking and entering.”

  Ruby looked disappointed. “Too bad,” she said. “What do we do now?”

  I bent over to pick up the paper Ruby had dropped and scanned it. “Look at this, Ruby!” I said. “Jason Wagner was a subscriber to the telephone company’s answering service. That’s why we couldn’t find an answering machine here in the apartment.”

  “Omigosh!” Ruby exclaimed. “Do you suppose that the stalker—Kaye, I mean—might have left a message that Jason didn’t get around to picking up?”

  “If we can find the passcode,” I said, “we can probably dial into the system.”

  “Maybe it’s on the phone,” Ruby suggested. She picked up the receiver. On it was a yellow sticker with four digits written on it. “Try this, China.”

  I took the phone and punched in the number on the paper Ruby had found. There was a recorded greeting—Jason’s cheerful voice saying, “Leave a message and I’ll return your call”—and then a prompt for his passcode. I punched in the number on the yellow sticker.

  “It’s working!” I said.

  “What are you hearing?” Ruby asked anxiously, as I listened.

  “The machine is saying that there are sixteen messages,” I reported. “They must’ve been piling up since before Jason went into the hospital.” I picked up a pencil and a scrap of paper and listened as a guy called with a reminder about a soccer game, a broker wanted to set up a meeting about an investment possibility, a dentist’s secretary confirmed an appointment. Ordinary telephone messages, the kind that everybody receives all the time. And then there was a message that wasn’t ordinary.

  “What is it?” Ruby asked, watching my face.

  “It’s a warning,” I said. I punched a button on the phone and the message—the last one on the machine—began to play again. I held up the phone so Ruby could hear it.

  “Don’t eat the brownies,” the low, breathy voice said. “They’ll make you awf’lly sick.”

  I pushed the star key to replay the message, and both Ruby and I listened again.

  Ruby frowned. “That’s not Kaye’s voice.”

  “No, it’s not,” I replied. I hung up without erasing the messages. They’d be there until the police could check them out. “Didn’t you recognize that Southern accent? We heard it just a little while ago.”

  Ruby snapped her fingers. “It’s Dora’s voice!” she exclaimed. “Kaye’s roommate!”

  “That’s right,” I said, and picked up the phone again. It was definitely time to call the police.

  “Congratulations, you two,” McQuaid said. “You pulled it off.” He lifted his small glass of cranberry cordial—his Valentine’s gift from Ruby. The bottle bore a handmade label that read “Cordially Yours.”

  “Thank you,” Ruby said with a modest smile, raising her glass. “It only took a little cunning.”

  “We should be toasting Jason, too,” I reminded them. “It’s good to hear that he’s feeling better.”

  Ruby sipped her cordial. “So Kaye actually confessed to sending him that deadly Valentine’s present?”

  McQuaid nodded and nipped one of Brian’s chocolate-covered strawberries off the plate in the middle of the table. “After her roommate told the police that she’d seen Kaye baking those chocolate brownies and writing Phyllis Anderson’s name on the package, she knew she couldn’t get out of it,” he said. “She probably figure
s that a guilty plea will get her a lighter sentence—and she’s right. The DA is all for anything that saves him the cost of a prosecution.” He frowned. “What I want to know, though, is what gave you the idea of checking Jason’s answering service.”

  CORDIALLY YOURS: RUBY’S CRANBERRY-ORANGE CORDIAL

  1 (12-ounce) package fresh cranberries

  2 tablespoons grated fresh orange zest (outer skin, no white

  pith)

  1 cup sugar

  4 whole cloves

  4 whole allspice

  2 cups light corn syrup

  2 cups vodka plus ½ cup brandy (or substitute 2½ cups light

  rum)

  1 cup water

  Coarsely chop the cranberries. Mix cranberries, orange zest, and sugar in a large bowl until the berries are well coated. Using a mortar and pestle or a rolling pin, break the whole cloves and allspice into smaller pieces, but do not pulverize. Add spices to the cranberry mix. Stir in the liquids. Pour into a large glass jar, cover tightly, and store in a cool, dark place for at least 1 month, shaking every few days. Strain out the solids by pouring through a fine strainer or dampened cheesecloth. (If you use a cloth, gather and twist it to squeeze out as much liquid as possible.) Pour into a clean, dry jar for storage at room temperature, for up to 3 months. Refrigerate for longer storage. Makes about 1 quart. May be doubled.

  CHOCOLATE-COVERED STRAWBERRIES

  Kids love to make this fruity treat. They can cool their confections by sticking the toothpicks into a piece of hard plastic foam, or laying the strawberries on waxed paper. Be sure the berries are perfectly dry, because even a drop of moisture can make the chocolate grainy. (Butter and margarine may contain water, and cooking oil can keep the chocolate from coating the berries. So do use shortening.)

  1 (12-ounce) bag of chocolate bits

  2 tablespoons shortening (not butter, margarine, or oil)

  2 dozen large strawberries, washed and carefully dried