Ladle to the Grave (A Soup Lover's Mystery Book 4)

by Connie Archer

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  “Battered beyond recognition.” Sophie shuddered. “It was pretty awful. At first we thought maybe he was somebody who fell in farther up, you know, where the current’s stronger and just got banged around and drowned. Or maybe animals. The police don’t know much yet at all.”

  Lucky could see the wheels turning behind Rick’s eyes. It was hard to believe the man sitting at the table with them was the same teenager she remembered who used to play a beat-up guitar on Sophie’s mother’s front porch.

  “Why are you asking?” Lucky asked.

  Rick stared at Lucky for a moment. “I haven’t been able to reach my partner for several days.”

  “Your partner?” Sophie asked. “What kind of business are you in? I told Nate you were working on getting your investigator’s license, but he said he couldn’t locate you through the state listings in New York.”

  “I did that for a while, true, but I never bothered to get my license. We . . . uh . . . My partner, Eddie, Eddie Fowler and I . . . We set up a small operation together.”

  “To do what?” Lucky asked. Already she was feeling that his explanations were sliding away.

  “We find people.”

  “Like missing people?” Sophie asked.

  Lucky glanced at Sage, who sat quietly, watching Rick.

  “Yeah, like that—people who don’t want to be found.”

  “People hiding from the law?” Lucky asked.

  “Sometimes. But mostly it’s just personal stuff or family disputes like an ex-spouse that took off and stopped paying child support. The system’s so overburdened nobody has the resources to keep tracking, but we do—for private parties.”

  “Is that why you’re here? Why your partner was here?”

  “Sort of. I got a letter from a lawyer about Mom’s property.”

  Sophie stared at her brother. “How did they find you? I don’t even have your address.”

  Rick smiled. “Guess they have people who do what I do. Besides, Sis, I’m never home. I move around a lot. E-mail is best if you ever want to reach me.”

  “I tried. Did you get my e-mail?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I did.”

  “I got a letter from the lawyers too. I met with them today.”

  “What did they have to say?” Rick’s face seemed to have closed down.

  “They offered a ton of money. They’ll buy everything, but what they really want is the acreage on the other side of the hill. They want to extend a ski run.”

  Rick’s jaw tightened but he didn’t speak.

  “So you didn’t answer my question,” Sophie said. “Why was your partner coming here?”

  “We . . . uh . . . Well, Eddie’s pretty knowledgeable about real estate. I asked him to have a look at the house and the land around it to kind of give me an idea what it’s worth.”

  “Nate told us you were registered at the Resort but no one had seen you . . . or whoever was in your room for the last few days.”

  Rick fell silent. “Eddie came on ahead of me. I couldn’t get away and I’m supposed to meet him here.”

  Lucky and Sage exchanged a glance. “You think he went out to have a look at the property, Rick?” Lucky asked.

  Rick nodded. “I hope to hell that wasn’t him you found in the creek.” He looked at Sophie. “You say Nate Edgerton’s the Chief of Police now?”

  Sophie nodded.

  “I remember him. I’ll go see him first thing in the morning.”

  “Was he registered at the Resort under your name?” Lucky asked.

  Rick shot a look across the table. “I, uh, I made a reservation after I got the letter from the lawyers, but then I had to finish up a job. Eddie was planning to come with me, but he decided to go on ahead until I could catch up.”

  No one spoke. Lucky was sure they all shared the same thought. If Rick’s partner went out to the property and met his end, and he was staying in the room Rick had reserved, what were the odds the man in the creek was Rick’s missing partner?

  “So what do you think, Rick?” Sophie got right to the point. “Sage and I want to make you an offer for your share of the house and the land around it. I want the fireplace that Granddad built. I don’t want to see it bulldozed for a ski run or cabins. We can sell them the other land. That’s what they really want—another ski run.”

  “Uh-uh.” Rick shook his head. “I don’t think I want to sell that.”

  “What? Why not?” Sophie’s voice had risen.

  “I’d just like to hang on to that.” Sophie’s face fell. Rick stood and nodded to Sage. “Thanks for the beer. I’ll see you around, Sis.”

  “Wait,” Sophie said. “We need to talk about this. Where are you staying?”

  “Up there.” He indicated the general direction of the Resort. “I’ll be in touch.” Rick turned away and unlocked the front door. He shut it firmly behind him and disappeared in the night.

  Sophie sat, a stunned look on her face. Lucky and Sage waited for her to speak.

  “He’s always been like that. Here one second, gone the next. But I’m not gonna let him get away with it, not this time,” she vowed.

  Chapter 24

  LUCKY PICKED UP the boxes she had left on the living room floor the night before and stacked them in the hallway closet. She planned to organize them when she had more time, maybe after the wedding. Some of them tugged at her heart and brought up so many memories. Photographs could freeze a moment in time and bring it back so sharply it hurt, moments that would otherwise be lost to memory.

  She wiggled the table leg gently. It seemed to be holding firm. She righted the coffee table and spread the Warner photos across the surface. It was too much of a coincidence that not one face was clear in any of the pictures. Either one of the two adults moved at the right moment to blur the photo, or one of them stood in the way to block the picture.

  Her doorbell rang. She jumped involuntarily. She wasn’t expecting anyone and her only visitors at night were either Sophie or Elias. But she knew Sophie was at home tonight and Elias was in Lincoln Falls seeing patients and might stay there overnight. She walked to the hallway and called out, “Who is it?”

  “House call.” She heard Elias’s voice. Laughing, she hurried down the hallway to open the door.

  He stepped over the threshold and enveloped her in a hug.

  “I thought you’d be at the hospital tonight.”

  “I did too, but I managed to get away early.”

  “Have you had a chance to eat?”

  “I’m fine. I’m hungry only for you.” He made a fierce growling sound and pretended to gnaw on her shoulder until she collapsed in laughter.

  “You are a silly man!”

  “Silly about you,” he replied, smiling, showing the dimple in his chin that Lucky loved.

  “Come on in. I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”

  “That would be very welcome. Thanks.”

  Elias shrugged off his jacket and slung it over a chair in the living room. Lucky returned from the kitchen carrying two glasses of red wine. She sat next to Elias on the sofa and they clinked their glasses together.

  “What’s all this?” he asked, indicating the array of photographs.

  “I haven’t had a chance to tell you about this. They came from a box that was up in Horace’s attic. I picked the boxes up the other day. One of them was full of photos my mother used to take at the Spoonful. But these—the ones you see here—were in an envelope and they’re all of the Warners from years ago.”

  Elias picked up one of the photos.

  “Notice anything strange about these?” she asked, not wanting to plant her suspicions in his head.

  “Your mother took these for the restaurant? Is this the dead woman and her husband?”

  Lucky nodded. “And
their grandson, Mike.”

  “Well, these must have been the rejects because no one is exactly smiling or looking at the camera. Are there any others?”

  “This is all there is. Notice anything else?”

  “Hmm.” Elias leafed through the photographs. “Someone is either turned away or looking down or standing in front of the boy. Is that what you meant?”

  “Yes. My mother used to ask people to look up and smile at the camera. She was always looking for great photos to hang on the wall. I’m sure she did the same here, but they obviously ignored her.”

  One of the photos slid off the end of the table. Elias reached down to retrieve it. He turned it over and saw the date on the back of the picture. “Date mean anything?”

  “No. Not that I can recall, and none of the others in the box were dated. But a few of these are. These dates are all within the same month. And one of the dates has an exclamation mark after it.”

  Elias leaned back on the sofa and pulled her close. “Uh-oh. I know that look. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that Agnes and her husband didn’t want to be photographed. I’m thinking they were keeping their identities secret.”

  “Lucky, I know you’re concerned about Jack—that he might have made a mistake.”

  “Jack didn’t make a mistake. I’m sure of that.”

  Elias took a deep breath but didn’t respond.

  “What? What’s that big sigh about?” she demanded.

  “Look. I came by tonight because we need to talk.”

  She felt her stomach clench in a knot. This didn’t sound good. “Okay,” she finally said.

  “The autopsy was completed. Agnes Warner died of a heart attack. She had severe arteriosclerosis and occlusion of the coronary artery.”

  “Well.” Lucky breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good news, isn’t it?”

  Elias watched her face carefully. “The cardiac event could have happened at any time, but the apparent immediate reaction indicates it was brought on by what she drank. The stomach contents were examined carefully and they’ve found traces of what they believe might be a toxin. They haven’t identified it yet.

  “A poison? I don’t understand.”

  “Many plants are poisonous; some contain alkaloid poisons. They’re still going over everything: the wine, the utensils, just trying to narrow down what it might be. It’s a difficult job if they don’t know what they’re looking for.”

  Lucky felt her heart sink. “That couldn’t be. Jack knows his plants. He couldn’t have made a mistake like that!”

  “I certainly hope you’re right. I just wanted to tell you first before you or Jack heard from Nate.”

  Lucky put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe this. Jack will be devastated.” Suddenly she looked up. “Could Jack be charged with anything?”

  “That I don’t know. The question is, did the contents of the wine cause the heart attack? Would someone else who drank that wine have remained unaffected? Still more questions to answer. There might have to be a hearing or an inquest. No one would suspect Jack of anything premeditated. At worst, it’s a case of a mistake leading to an unfortunate death. It does happen. People have died from botulism eating badly preserved foods prepared by a loving relative.” Elias continued, “I just wanted to tell you myself. Nate will probably get the autopsy report tomorrow at the earliest. Identifying the exact toxin will take longer.”

  “Poor Jack. He’s been depressed enough already, but this could send him into a tailspin.”

  Elias pulled her close and held her in his arms.

  “Can you stay with me tonight?” she asked. For the longest time it was she who had been unwilling to spend the night with Elias at either his house or her apartment, afraid of wagging tongues and any gossip that would hurt his reputation most of all. But tonight she knew she didn’t want to be alone.

  “Of course, if you want me to.”

  “Elias, if anything was wrong with that wine the women brewed, then somebody had to have tampered with Jack’s basket of herbs. He would never have made that kind of mistake. This goes way beyond an accident or an allergic reaction.”

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  “What if one of those women knew Agnes would be the first person to drink? Maybe somebody wanted her dead.”

  “Or somebody wanted all of them dead.”

  Lucky groaned. “I can’t think about this anymore. I’ll have to worry about it tomorrow.” She sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “Just hold me in your arms tonight.”

  Chapter 25

  THE MORNING RUSH was in full swing by the time Lucky arrived at the Spoonful. Elias had left in the wee hours to go home and change before starting his day at the Snowflake Clinic. She had no memory of doing so, but she must have turned off her alarm clock and fallen back into a dreamless state. She woke in a panic, aware she’d be late. When she rushed through the back door of the restaurant, she realized no harm was done. Unlike her, everyone else had arrived either early or on time.

  She dropped her purse in the office and pulled a fresh apron from the closet. The Spoonful’s aprons were yellow with the outline of a steaming bowl of soup in blue. Her mother had created these and her dad had followed suit with the neon sign in the front window of the restaurant. She pushed through the swinging door into the front room. Meg was taking orders from new customers and Janie was manning the counter. Jack was at the cash register and handing out flyers for the library drive as each customer paid.

  “Thanks, Janie. I’ll take over. I’m running late today.”

  “No worries. Everything’s under control. By the way, you just missed Marjorie. She left a few minutes ago,” Janie whispered.

  “Oh?” Lucky’s eyebrows rose. “Was Cecily with her?”

  “Uh-uh.” Janie shook her head. “I think they’re still spatting.”

  “Oh dear. Poor Cecily.”

  “I think it’s terrible the way her sister keeps her in the doghouse. She always seems so disapproving.”

  “She does, I know. But she’s the older sister, and I think she’s always played mother with Cecily.”

  “Cecily’s a grown woman. So what if she wanted to take part in that ritual? I think it’s kinda cool. I wouldn’t have thought that old bat Cordelia could have dreamed this up.”

  “Shh. Someone will hear you.” Lucky suppressed a laugh. “I know she’s a terrible snob, but actually I suspect she’s very vulnerable. Who knows? Maybe she was just bored and thought this would be exciting.”

  “Exciting, all right,” Janie said in a stage whisper. “Dead body and all.” Janie wiped her hands on a dish towel. She glanced over at Meg, who was starting to look a little harried. “I’ll give Meg a hand.” She pulled an order pad from her apron pocket and ducked under the hatch of the counter. Lucky watched her as she moved between the tables. Janie was planning to start college in the fall. Lucky was excited for her but knew they’d all miss her terribly when the time came.

  The bell over the door rang and Lucky looked up to see Cecily, on her own. Lucky waved her over, and Cecily took a stool at the counter.

  “How are you today?” Lucky asked as she placed a napkin and fresh silverware on the counter.

  Cecily smiled, but she seemed to have lost her usual exuberance. “I’m all right, dear. As you can see I’m on my own today—again.”

  Lucky nodded sympathetically. “Tea and croissant? The usual?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  Sage had spotted Cecily at the front door and had already prepared her order. It was waiting on the hatch. Lucky carried it to the place mat. “Here you go.”

  “Thank you, dear.” She looked up. “I assume my sister has already been and gone?”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “Hmm. Good. She’s been so crabby since all this happened in t
he woods.”

  “I’m sure she’ll get over it soon. And I’m sure she just worries about you.”

  “I know she does. But it’s ridiculous. I’m not a child anymore; nor am I an idiot.”

  Lucky noticed two customers leaving. She hurriedly cleared away their dishes and delivered fresh place mats and napkins to the empty seats. She refilled the coffee cups of the three remaining patrons and moved back to the spot where Cecily sat.

  “Cecily . . .” Lucky leaned closer. “I wonder if I could talk to you about the day you picked up those herbs from Jack.” She glanced over at the cash register where Jack sat, hoping he hadn’t overheard her question.

  “Of course. You can ask me anything.”

  “Let’s step into the corridor, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not.” Cecily placed her napkin next to her teacup and rose from the stool.

  Lucky glanced over the counter. This would take only a minute, and everything was handled for the time being. She pushed open the swinging door for Cecily and followed her into the hallway.

  “I don’t mean to bug you. I just want to make sure of this because Jack’s been torturing himself about the plants he picked. And . . .” Lucky hesitated, not willing to share the news that Elias had given her the night before.

  “He shouldn’t. I’m sure whatever happened to Agnes had nothing to do with him,” Cecily replied.

  “I agree with you. I just wish Jack felt the same way. Tell me again how all this was arranged.”

  “Well, I was appointed to ask Jack for the things we needed for the May wine. I spoke to him one day—oh, maybe a couple of weeks ago—and he said he’d be happy to pick the plants for us. He said to just give him a call the day before I needed the herbs. I called him . . . Let’s see, the morning of the twenty-eighth, two days before our ceremony. As far as I know, he picked the plants the same day and I stopped by his house after we closed the shop that evening. And he gave me the basket. It was probably more than we needed, as it turned out, and then I drove up to Cordelia’s house and dropped it off.”