Dosed to Death

by P. D. Workman

  “There’s no signal.”

  “No,” Zachary agreed.

  33

  It took a long time for Kenzie to get warmed up again. She sat as close to the heater as she dared and toasted her feet. She warmed her hands, rubbing them together. She rubbed her toes. She wrapped a blanket around herself and stayed under it until she was sweating. It was not going to be easy to get her back out there. She was done. Enough investigating. She would wait until the police got there. They would relay everything they knew to the police and let them sort it out.

  Zachary had a granola bar without prompting and made Kenzie toast. He didn’t actually toast it, but he put bread and marmalade on a slice of bread and served it to her sitting in front of the heater. He sat at the table watching her.

  As the kids went back to their games and argued noisily with one another, Kenzie and Zachary gradually imparted all the details to Tyrrell. He kept shaking his head in disbelief.

  “What is going on in this place?” he asked. “This is all so bizarre. Like reading a murder mystery by Agatha Christie. Everyone being picked off one by one, you know?”

  “They’re not,” Kenzie said firmly. “Mr. Dewey died of natural causes. There has only been one homicide.” Kenzie glanced at the children and then went on. “The most likely suspect is the husband. He didn’t have any marks on his hands, but maybe he was wearing gloves and didn’t get any cuts. They had an argument, things got out of hand, and...” She shrugged. “The same thing happens in the city. Believe me. I know.”

  “Of course it does,” Tyrrell agreed. “But how do you know that’s what happened here? It sounds like everybody was hopped up on drugs.”

  “It does,” Kenzie admitted. “I wonder about what they ate at the dinner last night. Maybe there was something in it... some mold or fungus that is hallucinogenic.”

  “I doubt it was anything like that,” Zachary disagreed. “For all of them to have symptoms, they all had to be dosed. If it were just a few spores of some mushroom, then one person, maybe two would get enough to have an... experience. But for all of them to be acting strangely? There had to be enough to dose everyone. Or maybe it was in all the drinks.” He closed his eyes, thinking about it.

  “How could it be in all of the drinks?” Kenzie challenged. “No one could know what everyone was going to drink and put it into all of the drinks being served. What about the person who decides that they just want a glass of water? From a pitcher or straight from the tap?”

  “It could have been dissolved into each of the glasses,” he suggested. “Dissolved and then the water evaporated, so that the drug was already in each of the glasses. It would mix with whatever was poured into them.”

  “And just what do you suggest it was? And why would anyone do such a thing? I think it must have been an accident. What about carbon monoxide? There could be a problem with the furnace at the farmhouse. Everyone got dosed with carbon monoxide. Just enough to affect their moods and thinking, not enough to cause physical symptoms like vomiting or passing out.”

  “Maybe. A gas would explain a lot. That would be easy for someone to release in a room, without anyone noticing or tasting anything.”

  “I didn’t mean intentionally. I meant a faulty furnace.”

  “I know. I’m just thinking.”

  “But there’s no reason to do something like that. Was this just... a prank? Like when Stiller was roofied in college? Someone just thought that it would be funny to contaminate everyone here, to see whether they did anything funny? Saw flying pink elephants?”

  “I’ve never hallucinated flying pink elephants,” Zachary said, cocking his head and looking at Kenzie.

  “That was just an example.”

  “But why do they show things like that on TV? Funny, silly, safe things? They make hallucinating look like... a fun party game. When it’s nothing like that. At least... I’ve never had any hallucinations like that.”

  “Uh... how many times have you hallucinated?” Kenzie asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. Things had been bad for Zachary as a teen and a young man, and she would be the first to admit that she didn’t know what kinds of things he had gotten into during that time. He could have been into all kinds of illegal drugs and activities.

  “I don’t know,” Zachary shook his head. “More than I can count.”

  “Oh...?”

  He laughed at her expression. “Reactions to meds. Fevers. Stuff they had me on when I was recovering from my burns. Meds that they aren’t supposed to prescribe together.” He shrugged. “It isn’t like I wanted to hallucinate. Like I said... I never saw flying pink elephants. Some of it was innocuous. But usually... it was pretty scary.”

  Kenzie chuckled along with him, relieved. She wouldn’t judge him if he had experimented with drugs when he was a kid. Lots of people did, and he’d certainly had a crappy enough life to have wanted to escape from it however he could. But she was happy that he hadn’t been taking hallucinogens intentionally. Some of those could really mess up a person’s brain, and Zachary had a hard enough time without doing that kind of damage.

  “Well, maybe you’ve got a point there. Maybe it was someone who bought into the TV image of hallucinogens. That it’s just a fun time, silly and harmless. Maybe it was just someone who wanted to spice up the dinner hour.”

  “Jack?” Zachary suggested.

  Kenzie shrugged one shoulder, tilting her head to the side as she considered. “Maybe. He’s the kind of guy I would expect to stir the pot. To want to see what would happen if he tried something like that.”

  “But we have no evidence.”

  “What we really need to do is to find whatever they were given. If Jack or someone else put something into the food, then there must be a pill bottle or something around as evidence.”

  “Yes.” Zachary didn’t say anything for a while and Kenzie thought that the conversation was over. Then he tapped his fingers on his knees, restless, and leaned forward to talk to her. “You’re absolutely sure that Mr. Dewey’s death didn’t have anything to do with this?”

  “How could it? He died the day before.”

  “I don’t know. If someone is intentionally poisoning the guests with some hallucinogen, then why couldn’t they have poisoned him the day before?”

  “But... that would imply that they wanted to kill everyone else,” Tyrrell objected. “If you poison one person, and they die, then if you poison half a dozen other people... you do it knowing that they could all die.”

  Kenzie was inclined to agree. But Zachary shrugged.

  “Some people wouldn’t care about that. Or it could be someone who knew that he had a heart condition and that it wouldn’t do the same kind of harm to someone who didn’t.”

  Kenzie shook her head slowly. “I don’t know, Zachary. It doesn’t seem likely. Like Tyrrell said, it isn’t exactly logical.”

  “In my experience, people who intentionally hurt and kill other people aren’t logical. They don’t think the same way as you do. My question is could it be the same substance? Could the same thing kill Dewey and cause the others to have a bad trip?”

  “Yes,” Kenzie admitted. “There are a number of substances that could cause both heart problems and hallucinations.”

  Zachary sat back, looking satisfied.

  “But I still don’t think that’s what happened,” Kenzie warned.

  “It’s your job to be skeptical. You can’t advance any theory on a death unless there’s some evidence to back it up. I don’t need evidence or proof to speculate.”

  Kenzie looked at Tyrrell, who shrugged. “He’s got a point,” he pointed out. “You guys are coming at it from two different backgrounds.”

  Zachary got up and started to pace. “I do think we should go to dinner tonight.”

  34

  What?” Kenzie was floored. “Why would we go to dinner if you think that everyone was poisoned there and whoever did it has not been caught? What’s to stop them from doing it again?”<
br />
  “Well, I wouldn’t suggest eating anything you didn’t watch being prepared. But I think we should see if we can get everyone to buy in on a search of the cabins for any medications that might have been used to do this. And the knife, for that matter.”

  Kenzie blinked, thinking about it. “If someone did this intentionally, why would they agree to a search of their cabins? Why would anyone agree to a search?”

  “Because if the majority agree, they would look guilty for arguing against it. Whoever did it... they probably didn’t come out here with the intention of poisoning everyone. They probably have a legitimate reason for having whatever it is, whether it’s medical or recreational. They can say that someone else got into it. We can’t prove who actually had access to it.”

  “Then what’s the point in doing a search?”

  “To secure the poison. To make sure that they can’t do it again tomorrow. The police can sort it all out when they get here, but that doesn’t mean we have to be sitting ducks.”

  “I doubt whether everyone will go to dinner tonight. They’ll probably all be too spooked.”

  “I don’t think everyone else realizes that they were all poisoned. Stiller and Collins can’t remember what happened. The others just know that Andy Collins and Brooke had a fight and Brooke ended up getting killed. They don’t all have the big picture, that they all had symptoms. I think they’ll still want to get together to find out more about what happened to Brooke, or at least to gossip about it if they can’t get any facts.”

  “He’s probably right,” Tyrrell agreed. “Whenever something bad or shocking happens, people want to talk about it. They are isolated and can’t even post about it on social media. The only social group is the rest of the vacationers. Maybe Collins will want to stay home and won’t go to dinner, but the rest probably will. With us, we’ve got our own little group here,” Tyrrell made a motion that took in Kenzie and Zachary and the children. “But most of the others are on their own. They won’t want to be totally isolated for days.”

  Kenzie didn’t relish the idea of trying to convince a group of vacationers to let other people search their belongings. It was, as Tyrrell had said, like being stuck in the middle of an Agatha Christie novel. Except the sleuths in those mysteries always seemed to be in charge and to know exactly what they were doing. Kenzie didn’t have any authority and didn’t even want to be involved in the whole mess.

  “But we’re not all going to go up for dinner, right?” Kenzie looked at the children. “I don’t think... probably just Zachary and I...”

  Tyrrell nodded. “Yeah. I don’t want my kids anywhere near this psycho.”

  They spent most of the day resting and staying warm. Napping, playing with the kids, grazing on their snacks and leftovers. Tyrrell and Zachary had moved the perishable leftovers from the fridge to a snowbank outside, hoping that there were sealed well enough that the animals would not smell them and get into them. The little cook stove worked well for heating up small amounts of the leftovers at a time, though Zachary disappeared every time it was in use. Kenzie thought it was progress that he wasn’t having a meltdown over it, just moving to where he couldn’t see the flame.

  They talked about the strange night once or twice more, puzzling over some of the details. But they didn’t come to any conclusions. They didn’t have enough clues to point them in the right direction, and too many suspects. Too many, and not enough, because while pretty much everybody had opportunity, no one really had a motive to kill Brooke. Aside from Andy, who might have regretted his decision to marry her or have been after her life insurance. No one else had any reason to kill her. It was probably just the unfortunate effect of whatever hallucinogen they must have been exposed to.

  As the dinner hour approached, Kenzie changed her clothes, tried to finger-comb her hair into some order, and gave up on applying makeup by the green light of a glow-stick. She was just going to do more harm than good, and who cared whether she had made herself up for a dinner that was going to be held in near darkness?

  They grabbed a few glow sticks for the dinner, hoping they’d be able to prevail upon the others to forgo candles, put on their heavy winter gear, and trudged up to the farmhouse at the top of the road.

  It had started snowing again. It wasn’t blowing like the night before, but big, fluffy flakes floated gently to the ground, and Kenzie suspected it would pile up pretty quickly. How long was it going to take them to dig out? When the weather system eventually passed over, would the rescue be immediate? Or would it take several more days for them to plow the highway? What other jobs would take precedence over the road? If there were power and phone lines down, people trapped in various farms throughout the county, and possible medical emergencies to deal with, how far down the list would the Lodge be?

  When they reached the house and let themselves in at the front door, Kenzie glanced over at Zachary. He began removing his coat and other gear, a grim expression on his face. He was probably wondering exactly the same thing. How much longer?

  Inside, the mood was a bit giddy, even celebratory. Not the kind of gathering one would expect when two people of their company had died. But death was like that sometimes. People had to escape the grief and pain however they could, often with inappropriate jokes, comedic movies, or loud carousing. There was a reason they had a term for gallows humor.

  “Kenzie! You decided to join us today!” Raven gave Kenzie a dazzling smile, as if they were best friends, and leaned close to buss both cheeks. “How was your day?”

  “Well, I’m glad we have the kids around to help keep us entertained. When you’re trying to keep someone else engaged, it doesn’t leave much time to be bored.”

  “You should have brought them up! I would have liked to meet them. They’re your niece and nephew?”

  Raven had seen them on the hayride. She hadn’t seemed very interested in them at that point. But that was then. They lived in a whole different world now.

  “Zachary’s. Tyrrell is his brother.”

  “And remind me their names?”

  “Mason and Alisha.”

  “What great names. They seem like fun kids.”

  Kenzie nodded. “Like I said, it’s nice to have someone else to worry about. And they keep the atmosphere light.”

  “Zachary, good to see you again.” Raven shook his hand, touching his elbow with her other hand as if they were old friends and she was extending her sympathies to him. “How are you holding up? I wondered, with the power being out and you having to deal with F-I-R-E.”

  “You don’t need to spell it. Mr. Burknall brought us a propane-fueled heater, so we don’t have to have a fire. And we have these.” Zachary showed off a couple of the glow sticks. “To replace candles. Hopefully, no one here will mind so much...”

  “What a great idea. I didn’t even know there was a propane heater.”

  Zachary shrugged. Why would she? Burknall had known, and he’d known what to do about it.

  They were welcomed into the small circle of vacationers. Because they were bored? Because Kenzie and Zachary were fresh meat? Kenzie excused herself from the gathering.

  “I just wanted to see how Mrs. Hubbard is doing. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She felt awkward going back to the kitchen, where she hadn’t been invited and probably wasn’t welcome. But she had a job to do, and she’d just have to bluff her way through as if she belonged there.

  “Knock knock,” she called out as she walked through the archway into the kitchen. There was no door to knock on to announce herself, and she didn’t want to sneak up on Mrs. Hubbard and give her a heart attack.

  The older woman startled anyway. She turned around and looked at Kenzie. “Oh. Hello, dear. Can I get you something?”

  “Oh, no. I’m not back here to make any special requests. I just wanted to see how you are doing. I know it hit you pretty hard, losing Mr. Dewey like that.”

  “I don’t want you to think that there was anything between u
s,” Mrs. Hubbard started. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “I didn’t think it was. You’ve worked with him for years. Of course you would be upset and shocked by the whole thing.”

  Mrs. Hubbard nodded. “Yes, that’s right. You don’t know what it’s like. Even if we weren’t that close, it’s still like losing a family member.”

  “I’m sure it is. I guess maybe you heard from Mr. Burknall that I’m not actually an accountant...”

  Mrs. Hubbard gave her a sideways look, then nodded. “That’s what he said.”

  “I work at the medical examiner’s office. So I know what it’s like, how shocking it can be to lose someone.”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Hubbard gave each of the pots on the stove a stir.

  Kenzie stepped closer to have a look, surprised to see the stove in use. Mrs. Hubbard smiled.

  “It’s propane. This isn’t the first time we’ve had a snowstorm.”

  “I guess not! I didn’t even think about it until now. I guess I pictured you working on a little camp cook stove like we have been.”

  “Not for a big meal like this. Wouldn’t be practical. We can pretty much carry on here like usual, power or not.”

  “That’s great.” Kenzie smiled and hovered, trying to think of a way to segue into the subject she wanted to bring up.

  Mrs. Hubbard eyed her, then hummed as she moved around the kitchen.

  “Umm... I wondered if you get lonely in here, working all by yourself all day,” Kenzie offered.

  “No, I don’t mind working by myself. And I’m never alone for long. The staff come and go. Samantha is in here and helps with the serving. Sometimes she gives me a hand if there are a lot of dishes to assemble. Mr. Dewey, he was always in and out, checking on things, testing new dishes, just shooting the breeze.” She looked pensive. “He was lonely after Mrs. Dewey passed. It was hard for him. They’d been together for so long, he wasn’t used to doing it all on his own. And even if he had all of the help that he needed, there was still... he still missed her. And he was too old to start up with someone new. Maybe folks do remarry when they’re old these days, but Mr. Dewey wasn’t part of the social scene. There aren’t many people to visit with up in these parts. We’re pretty isolated. He always liked it, before. Anyway...” Mrs. Hubbard tapped a spoon on the edge of one pot to shake the sauce off and set it to the side. “He was around a good deal. And Mr. Burknall, he is the same. He’d be up at the house to talk to Mr. Dewey, and he’d drop in to say hello and see what was cooking. You might think this is a lonely place, but it isn’t.”