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

by Connie Archer

  Cordelia’s back straightened. “I certainly hope you’re not accusing me of anything!”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m merely asking, Cordelia. What happened after Cecily delivered the basket to you?”

  Cordelia heaved a sigh, demonstrating her impatience, and spoke slowly as if to a mentally challenged child. “I washed all the leaves and added them to a large pot to which I then added white wine. Jack had picked a bit more than we asked for, but I used them all. The wine was purchased at a local market and I opened the bottles myself. The mix steeped overnight, and I transferred it to a large, tightly lidded container and, with a small cauldron and bowls I washed myself, transported it to our . . . meeting.” Cordelia’s mouth twitched slightly.

  “Did anyone else have a chance to touch it or add anything?”

  Cordelia pursed her lips. “I know what you’re getting at. But no. No one laid a hand on it before we started or after. And I certainly didn’t add anything harmful to the wine, so the only possible conclusion is that your grandfather is getting senile and my only mistake was in trusting him to do something right.”

  Lucky felt another surge of anger rise in her chest but she kept her voice level. “Cordelia, don’t you dare accuse my grandfather. He knew what he was doing when he picked those herbs. Somebody had to have tampered with it. I know that’s the only explanation.”

  A slow smile spread across Cordelia’s face. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Why don’t you tell that to Nate Edgerton? See what he has to say? Your grandfather is obviously dotty and you’ll just simply have to accept that.”

  “Look . . .” Lucky did her best to quell an angry retort. “Jack is anything but—”

  “If that’s all, then, I’m very busy . . .”

  “No, Cordelia. It’s not all.” Lucky edged her foot over the threshold. “I didn’t drive over here to be treated rudely or have a door slammed in my face. Under the circumstances, I would think you’d have the common courtesy to at least talk to me.”

  Cordelia had the good grace to blush slightly. She took a deep breath. “Fine. What is it you’d like to know?”

  Lucky struggled to marshal her thoughts. Her reaction to Cordelia had caused logic to fly to the winds. “Was Agnes friendly with anyone in your group?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Did she know any of the women before the group formed?”

  “I would have no idea.” Cordelia pursed her lips.

  “Did she have any disagreements with anyone there?”

  “Certainly no . . .” Cordelia hesitated. Lucky was sure she had hit upon something.

  “Yes?” She waited.

  Cordelia pulled herself up to her full height, standing straighter if such a thing were possible. “There was something. I don’t know if it was an argument. I wouldn’t say that, but there seemed to be a bit of distance, or discomfort, if you will, between Agnes and one of the women. I have no idea what it was about.”

  “Which woman?”

  Cordelia looked as if she’d love to deny Lucky an answer but must have finally decided the sooner she answered, the sooner Lucky would leave her alone. “It was Willa. Willa Persley.”

  “I see. Thank you.”

  Cordelia made no pretense of courtesy. She stepped back. Lucky managed to move her foot a second before Cordelia slammed the door firmly.

  “I’ll show you who’s dotty,” she muttered to the closed door. She gave it a swift kick before she turned away and headed down the stairs.

  Chapter 35

  LUCKY CLOSED HER eyes and took a deep breath, willing herself to be calm. Her confrontation with Cordelia Rank had caused her blood to boil. The woman was insufferable and patronizing and rude. It wasn’t for her own sake that she was tempted to give Cordelia a black eye; it was her remarks about Jack that cut her to the quick. Cordelia couldn’t possibly have been more cruel. Lucky turned off the engine and pulled the flyer that Emily had given her out of the pocket of her pants. She checked the address again. Willa Persley’s house was a two-story white Colonial halfway up the hill. Lincoln Heights was an enclave of those the village of Snowflake termed “newcomers”—people who hadn’t been born and lived in the village for the past hundred years or more. It was a wealthy section, just above the town, and most of the people who lived there were in some way connected with the Snowflake Resort, executives and middle-management people who had moved here from other places, pursuing well-paid employment.

  Lucky climbed the stairway to the front door. The house was built on a rise with no space for a front lawn, but a rock garden of trailing plants and flowers was beginning to bloom. Lucky caught whiffs of lavender and mint as she ascended the brick stairway. A flowered wreath hung just below the small windows in the upper part of the heavy door. She took a deep breath, remembering the frosty reception she had received at Cordelia’s home. She mentally prepared herself for the same.

  She rang the bell and heard it chime inside. A few moments later, the door swung wide and a small plump woman in an apron decorated with butterflies stood in the doorway. Splotches of flour covered the front of her apron, and under it she wore loose cotton pants and a print blouse. The woman smiled. Lucky wondered how long the welcome would last once she stated her business.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi. I’m Lucky Jamieson. We’ve never met but I was hoping you could talk to me for a minute about Agnes Warner.”

  “Oh.” The woman’s eyes opened wider. “Oh. Of course, please come in. I’m working in the kitchen right now, but follow me.” She spoke over her shoulder as Lucky followed her down the main hallway toward the kitchen.

  “Please have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee?” Willa bustled about the kitchen, clearing off a space at the tall butcher block that dominated the center of the room.

  “No, thank you, though. I’m fine. I’m just taking a break from work and I hoped to find you at home.”

  “Oh, where do you work, dear?” Willa asked, smiling.

  “I own the By the Spoonful Soup Shop.”

  “How wonderful! I’ve been hearing about that place.” She leaned over the worktable. “I don’t get out very much. I’m a widow, you see, and I live with my son and daughter-in-law. They both work at the Resort and they’ve talked me into coming to live with them. I’ve only been here about six months, so I haven’t had a chance to get to know the town. I don’t drive and I need to be here when the children come home from school. And, of course”—she waved her arm, indicating the kitchen—“I spend most of my time here. I do love to cook, though.”

  Lucky smiled, warmed by Willa’s reception. “Well, we have a wonderful chef. I’m sure you’d enjoy his recipes.”

  “I may just take you up on that offer.” She sat on a stool on the other side of the butcher block. “Now, what can I help you with?”

  Lucky cleared her throat. “My grandfather is Jack Jamieson, the man who provided the herbs for Cordelia’s May wine.”

  “Ahh, I see.” Willa’s gaze became very focused.

  “I know that everyone thinks Jack may have picked a poisonous plant that could have led to Agnes’s death, but I don’t believe so.”

  Willa nodded. A serious look came over her face. “You’re thinking that something else killed poor Agnes or that the answer isn’t that simple.”

  “Exactly.” Lucky took a deep breath. “I’ve been told that there might have been an altercation between you and Agnes, and I wanted to find out more about that, if you’re willing to talk about it.”

  “Oh no.” Willa’s eyes widened. “Not at all. There was no argument, nothing like that.” She shifted her weight on the stool to be more comfortable. “You see, being new here, I heard about the women’s group that was meeting at the library and I thought it would be a good way for me to get to know some people. My son was willing to drive me down there in the evening
s, so I decided to go. As time went on . . . well . . . Cordelia Rank—do you know her?” Willa asked.

  “Oh yes.” Lucky did her best to reply noncommittally.

  Willa pursed her lips. “Well, Cordelia is quite an imposing—is that the word I want? I guess it is—an imposing figure, and the meeting began to morph into something else. It wasn’t quite up my alley, but I thought, well . . . The other women were quite nice, so I thought I’d give it all a little more time.” She looked directly at Lucky. “I never in a million years thought it would end that way!”

  “I can understand.” Lucky had heard all this before, but she felt it best to let Willa rattle on. She suspected the woman had no one to talk to all day and was grateful for the company. “But you got along fine with Agnes?”

  “I thought so. I don’t quite know what happened. It was very strange.” Willa took a sip of coffee from the mug at her elbow. “Ugh, it’s cold now. Oh well.” She took another swallow. “We got chatting about where we were all originally from. Agnes happened to mention that she and her husband had lived in Pennsylvania before they moved here years ago, when her husband retired. You know she was raising their grandson?”

  “Yes, I had heard that.”

  “Agnes said they had lived in a town called Greenville. Well, there are lots of towns with that name all over, even one in Massachusetts . . . or maybe it’s Greenfield in Massachusetts. I’m not sure now. But I happen to know Greenville, Pennsylvania, quite well. I grew up there. My family moved away when I was young, but I still remember the place. It’s a lovely town. I was excited to find out that someone in our little group knew the place.”

  “How did Agnes react to that?”

  “Fine. She smiled and agreed with me that it was a lovely town. But . . .” Willa trailed off.

  Lucky waited, unwilling to break Willa’s train of thought.

  “I told her how much I remembered and loved Snowden’s Ice Cream Shop and asked her if she used to go there too.” Willa shrugged. “That was it. She said yes, she remembered it.” Willa paused a moment. “Then, the next time I saw Agnes, it was the following week. She gave me a cold shoulder. She acted as if . . . Oh, I’m not sure how to put it into words. It made me very uncomfortable. She . . . acted as if I had done something to offend her. I tried to address it, but she said it was nothing. There was no argument or anything like that, but Agnes just chose to ignore any friendly overtures. I was a little taken aback. Enough to think over anything I had said to her, but I couldn’t imagine that I had done or said anything to upset her. There wasn’t much more I could do about it. So I just had to ignore it. I don’t think anyone else really noticed. Maybe they did, but if they did, they never said anything to me about it, so I just let it lie.”

  “I see. You have no idea what caused the change in her behavior?”

  Willa shook her head. “No. To be honest, I was more than a little hurt. Maybe I was being oversensitive because I’m so new here, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it.”

  “And it happened after your mention of the town you grew up in?”

  “That’s right, dear. I wondered if that had something to do with it. Maybe she wanted to avoid any talk about Greenville. Although I can’t imagine why.” A timer on top of the kitchen stove went off. “Oh, hang on.” Willa jumped up and pulled out a cake pan. “Got it just in time.” She laughed. “I get talking and I can’t shut up. I’d burn the house down if I didn’t have this little thing.”

  “I better get going myself, Willa. It was a pleasure meeting you and I hope you decide to visit the Spoonful soon. Maybe you could take a night off and come with your son and daughter-in-law.”

  “I will. We’ll do that. We all need to get out of the house sometimes.”

  “Thanks for your time. I really appreciate it.”

  Willa followed her to the front door and opened it for her. “You must be concerned for your grandfather,” she said.

  Lucky nodded. “I am.”

  “And you’re thinking that Agnes had some secrets?” Willa asked, her eyes sharp and clear.

  Lucky nodded. “I don’t know what they are, but I don’t want to see my grandfather railroaded.”

  “You just call on me if you ever need a friend to talk to.” Willa touched her arm gently.

  Lucky felt tears starting to threaten. Other than those closest to her, this was the first person she had talked to who understood what drove her. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.” She stepped outside to the brick entryway and Willa closed the door behind her.

  Lucky walked slowly back to the car. She turned the key in the ignition and started down the steep hill toward town. She mulled over her conversation with Willa. Had Agnes turned her back on Willa because she hadn’t wanted any questions asked about her life in Greenville? Had Agnes known that Willa’s family had moved away when Willa was young? Or was the story about Greenville, Pennsylvania, a complete fiction? If Agnes had lied about where the family had come from, she might have been afraid Willa would start asking more questions and she would be caught out in a lie. Perhaps she feared Willa was still in touch with people from the town who would have known that there had never been an Agnes or Leonard Warner in Greenville. That had to be the explanation. Agnes was afraid of being exposed for telling a lie, and what better way to deflect questions than to behave as though Willa had offended her in some way? A good defense to forestall any more questions from being asked.

  She was halfway down the hill when she realized something was terribly wrong. Sophie’s car began to shudder, its movements more and more violent. Was it the road? Had a tire blown? She hit the brakes as the sharp turn at the bottom of the hill came into view. The car gave a frightening lurch. She heard the shrieking of metal. Sparks flew from the road. The steering wheel spun out of her hands. She fought to gain control as the car neared the edge of the paving. A tree trunk loomed in front of her. Lucky screamed. Breaking glass was the last thing she heard before all went black.

  Chapter 36

  THERE WERE VOICES far away in the distance, a murmuring. Lucky strained to make out the words. Someone was touching her face, and a blinding light filled her vision. She groaned.

  “Stay still.” It was Elias’s voice. “Don’t move.”

  She tried to speak but only a croak came out. She tried again. “Elias.”

  “It’s me. You’re at the clinic. I had them bring you here.”

  “What happened?” She struggled to sit up.

  “Don’t move,” he said more firmly. “You’re going to be fine. I don’t even think it’s a concussion, but you did hit your head and you blacked out. Good thing you were wearing your seat belt, though. Hold still, now. I want to check your pupils.” The light moved to the other eye, as Elias gently pulled her eyelid up.

  “The car . . . Sophie’s car . . . What happened?”

  “You went off the road. You lost a tire.”

  “Help me sit up.” She grasped his hand.

  “Take it very slowly. You’re going to be dizzy.” Elias gently helped her to a sitting position. “You’re one lucky woman. You’ve got a cut on your cheek, but I think it’ll heal without a scar. And you’ll have a very large egg on your head and a bad bruise.”

  Lucky shook her head and the room spun around. “I’ll be fine.” She looked up into Elias’s concerned eyes. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “Damn.” Elias took a sharp breath. “People die from stuff like this. The only reason you’re still here is the road was flat and your car went straight into the bushes. You narrowly missed a tree. And you’re not fine, by the way. I’m ordering rest for a few days. I’m serious. No running around at the restaurant. And I will check on you, so don’t tell me one thing and do another.”

  Lucky realized he’d never let her out of the examining room if she didn’t agree. “The car?”

  Elias s
hook his head. “Totaled, I’d say. I didn’t see it, but I heard about it.”

  “But why? How did this happen?”

  “The lug nuts must not have been tightened properly. At least on the front passenger side, or so I’ve been told. That’s why it swerved so badly and you lost control. Do you know who serviced it last?”

  “No idea. But Sophie or Sage would know.”

  “Dangerous not to check the wheels. Guy Bessette’s a good mechanic. I can’t imagine he’d make a mistake like that.” Elias cleared away the implements on the rolling tray and tossed the used sterile gauze into the wastebasket. He moved to the sink to wash his hands. “Everyone’s outside in the waiting room, worried sick about you. You feel okay to stand?”

  Lucky nodded.

  “On second thought, you stay here. I’ll tell them to come down.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m pretty upset about this. I intend to get to the bottom of it.” Elias stepped out to the corridor, and a few moments later Lucky heard voices. The door opened and Jack rushed in.

  He gripped her hands. “Oh, my girl. You coulda been killed.” His face was flushed and his hands were shaking.

  Lucky reached up and touched his cheek. “But I wasn’t. I’m fine, Jack. It was an accident.” She looked over his shoulder to see Sage and Sophie with serious expressions on their faces. Elias had come back into the examining room.

  “It was no accident,” Sage said. Sophie watched Lucky’s face carefully.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “I changed both front tires for Sophie a couple of weeks ago. Believe me, I know how to tighten lug nuts. It’s not a mistake I would ever make. Somebody tampered with that wheel.”

  They all turned to stare at Sage. Finally Elias spoke. “I think we need to report this to Nate.”

  “But why?” Lucky spoke. “You’re saying someone deliberately wanted to hurt me?”

  “Either you or Sophie. It’s Sophie’s car, after all. We had it towed to Guy’s Auto Shop. He’s going to have a look at it. I think someone wanted to take one of you out of commission. If I ever find out who did this . . .” Sage was so angry his face was white. He couldn’t seem to find the words to express his outrage.