“What’s wrong with you, little girl?” I was beginning to worry. If something were to happen to Jackie, I’d go mad. She was my baby.
* * *
The next morning I couldn’t get Toni’s comments about my weight out of my mind. For weeks I hadn’t even thought about it, but today I couldn’t resist. I went through my usual routine of shedding every extra ounce of clothing, and then stepped on the scale. I closed my eyes as the numbers spun. When I looked, my weight was lower by twelve pounds. This was unbelievable. No wonder my clothes had been more comfortable. I guess I hadn’t eaten much since Rob’s death. Also, I’d been feverishly developing the low-calorie menu. Could the lower-calorie meals have contributed to my weight loss? Imagine if this menu turned our business around and helped me get skinny.
After coffee, I forced myself to dial the oncology department’s direct line. I’d called that number daily for nearly two years, but not once since Rob’s death.
A nurse’s voice answered. “Oncology Department, good morning.”
I asked for Dr. Page and a moment later Gordon was on the line. To my relief, he sounded sincerely happy to hear from me. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said. “Just to make sure you’re all right.”
“Thanks, Gordon. I’d like you to come to a small dinner party I’m planning. It hasn’t been long since Rob died, but it’s time for me to start socializing.” As an incentive, I added, “If I remember correctly, you liked a friend of mine, Kim. If you like, I can invite her too.” Since Kim had all but stopped her efforts to win my friendship, I didn’t feel the need to avoid her as much.
I heard the smile in his voice. “Of course I remember Kim. It would be nice to see her again. But to be honest, she didn’t seem too interested in me. In any event,” he added offhandedly, “I’ll gladly join you for dinner and not only because of Kim. How’s that?”
“That’s great, Gordon. I know how difficult it is for residents to plan their schedule. I wanted to give you plenty of notice. How’s Sunday, two weeks from now?” What I was really hoping was that with any luck the murder would be solved by then, and the evening would be a pleasant dinner party. I gave him the time and my address, and I was about to hang up when a question occurred to me. “Gordon, there’s something I’d like to know.”
“Go ahead.”
“This may sound weird, but did you ever suspect Rob of being involved in illegal drug activity?” There was a long silence. “Gordon?”
“I’m still here.” Another pause, this one shorter. When he answered, he was hesitant. “Nothing I was overtly aware of, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”
It hit me in the gut. “Really?”
“If you’re asking me, you must suspect something.”
“I heard something recently, and I need to know if there’s any truth to it.”
“What did you hear?”
“Nothing I want to repeat. It might just be hearsay.”
“I’m sorry. As I said, I don’t know of anything. It’s just that his morals seemed elastic to me.”
I sighed. “I need to know if I was foolish.”
“You know, Nicky, we can only see what others allow us to.”
“Did the police ever question you about Rob?” I asked.
“Yes, but drugs were never mentioned.”
“Well, thanks, Gordon. You’ve been helpful.”
“If you need anything else, give me a call.”
After hanging up, I was emotionally exhausted. Why hadn’t the police followed my tip about drugs? Unless I solved this case myself, I would never be off the hook. This was exactly the goad I needed to call Harry Johnson.
“I often think of you, Nicky,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Was it my imagination or did he sounded artificially friendly?
I offered my explanation. “I’m having a few friends for dinner to give us a chance to reminisce.”
“How nice,” he said. “But I have a better idea. How about I take you out?”
“That’s a lovely offer, Harry, but the whole thing with Rob is still recent. For now, this dinner party is all I can handle.”
“Come on,” he pushed. “It’ll do you good. Don’t think of it as anything more than two friends sharing a meal. I’ll tell you what. I’ll accept your invitation if you accept mine.”
I heard myself agreeing. I gave him the date and held my breath while he checked his schedule. I remained on hold until, “Fine. I’ll be there,” he said at last. “So when do you and I get together?”
After setting a date for the following Monday night, I hung up. And it hit me. I had just accepted a dinner date with someone I suspected of being a murderer. A cold shiver ran down my back. On the other hand, what better way to interview the man? And if by then I found I hadn’t the heart to go through with it, I’d simply cancel. Pushing the issue out of my mind, I picked up the phone and called Janice.
Her pleasant voice lifted my spirits. “Of course Simon and I will be there. I look forward to it,” she replied. “Who else is coming?”
“So far, I’ve got confirmations from Gordon and Harry.”
“Harry?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were close.”
“We’re definitely not close.” I hesitated, but couldn’t keep my theory quiet. “I think he could be the murderer.”
“Then why would you invite him to dinner?”
“I want to make him talk. Unfortunately, I somehow agreed to have dinner with him alone. But I’ll wait a few days, then cancel.”
“Hmm.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe dinner alone wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe you’ll find out more that way.”
I could hardly believe her suggestion. “Don’t you think it would be dangerous?”
“Put it this way. This dinner could keep you out of jail, but I wouldn’t go anywhere deserted with him. Where is he taking you?”
“We haven’t set a place yet, just a time—next Monday night.”
After hanging up, I went back to my mission. Soon, seven guests had confirmed: Gordon Page, Harry Johnson, Janice and Simon Bradley, Susan and Brian Harris and Kim.
Kim, of course, had offered to help. She was nice. And pretty soon I found myself confiding in her.
“That sounds dangerous, Nicky. Why don’t you leave it to the police? If you’re right and that man has already killed twice, he won’t hesitate to kill again.”
I assured her I would be fine. She didn’t sound convinced but agreed to come all the same.
I didn’t look forward to having the Harrises after their cold-shoulder treatment at Rob’s memorial service. But the important thing, I reminded myself, was that they worked at the hospital and might know something. Things were lining up nicely.
* * *
The following morning I decided to explore St. Lawrence Market again. It was the one place where I could count on finding the freshest herbs and the best imported cheeses. If I could use only a smidgeon of cheese in my skinny recipes, then the cheese had to be all the more flavorful. Twenty minutes later, I found a parking spot on Front Street just big enough for my car, and soon I was wandering from booth to booth with my straw basket hooked over my arm.
There was something so energizing about the feast of colorful displays and the panoply of savory smells inside that cavernous old building. It was almost like being in some old European market. I stopped here and there, squeezing a ripe tomato, smelling a fresh bunch of oregano and filling my basket until it was almost too heavy to carry.
Later, I set to work on a new recipe—skinny chicken parmesan. I rummaged through the pantry and lined up my ingredients on the counter—organic chicken breasts from the market, flour, fresh oregano, mozzarella cheese and of course, a brick of hard parmesan. I set to work. Next to me, Jake handed me the ingredients as I needed them.
“You’re in a good mood,” he observed after a few minutes.
I smiled. “I had a good night’s sleep, and I’m feeling optimistic. I think the new menu will turn our business around. Plus, I lost some weight.” I didn’t add that I was also hopeful that I would soon expose the murderer and put this nightmare behind me.
He smiled approvingly. “Whatever the reason, it’s nice to see you happy again.”
When Toni arrived, I had half a dozen portions plated.
“Mmm, that looks good.” She stored her Chanel bag under the assembly counter and came closer.
“And only two hundred and fifty calories each.” I handed her a plate. “Try it.”
She took it, followed me to the dining room and tasted. “Has anybody ever told you that you can really cook?”
I pulled up a chair next to hers. “Guess what? I invited Rob’s coworkers to dinner.”
“Harry Johnson, too?” she asked, sounding surprised.
“Harry Johnson, too.” I confirmed. “Not only that, but I agreed to have dinner with him next week.”
She put her fork down. “You have got to be kidding.”
I smiled. “I’m not kidding. But I’m not going. I’ve decided to call and cancel in a couple of days. What do you think?”
Toni slapped her hand over mine. “You have to go. Don’t you see? It’s perfect. What you do is make friends with him. You know the old saying. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’”
“I know another saying,” I countered. “Stay away from murderers.”
“Don’t be silly. Just meet him in a public place.”
That was exactly what Janice had told me, but I’d be damned before I let Toni know someone agreed with her. “Great!” I exclaimed. “Well be sitting at a table and eating, which means he’ll have a knife. And I’ll be just a few feet away from him.”
Toni shrugged. “So go somewhere they give you chopsticks.”
* * *
The next morning I was getting ready to take Jackie for a walk when the doorbell rang. I dropped the leash on the table and hurried to the door.
“Janice!” I stood for a second before my manners kicked in. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”
“Is this an inconvenient time? I was in the area and thought, why not stop by for a quick hello?”
“I’m glad you did. Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
“Tea would be great.” She followed me to the kitchen.
“It’ll only take a minute.” I filled the kettle and set it on the stove.
Janice stood in the doorway, looking around. “Your kitchen is beautiful. I’ve never seen a stove like that.” She walked over for a closer look.
“I’d be surprised if you had. It’s a 1927 Beach. The company doesn’t even exist anymore.”
“It’s gorgeous.” She turned and looked at my fridge. “And you found a refrigerator to match.”
I laughed. “Not quite. It’s a decade-old fridge I had spray-painted to match.”
Janice stepped forward. “Let me do something to help,” she offered. “Where are the cups?”
“In the cabinet on the right.” I pointed above the sink.
“I hope I’m not overstepping my ground here,” she said, retrieving two mugs from the cupboard. “One of the reasons I dropped by is that I didn’t want you to think that because of Rob…” She hesitated. “What I’m trying to say is that I value your friendship and I don’t want us to lose touch.”
My impulse was to hug her. “Thank you, Janice. That means a lot to me. I like you, too.”
She smiled. “Maybe we can go out for lunch or go see a movie once in a while. Every time there’s a new chick-flick I want to see, Simon refuses to come. You can be my chick-flick buddy.”
“That would be really nice.” The kettle whistled. I turned off the stove and when I returned my attention to Janice, she looked uncomfortable. “Is anything wrong?”
Before she could reply, I heard Jackie scratching at the back door. “Sorry, Janice, I have to let her out. I’ll be right back.
“Of course. I’ll pour the tea.”
When I checked that the side entrance was closed and locked, I was surprised to see a new latch on the door. Mitchell. He kept his word. I felt an immediate surge of happiness. “It’s the small things that count,” as Toni had once said. Mind you, at the time, she’d been talking about little blue boxes. I picked up Jackie and went back inside.
“Do you have any cream?” Janice asked, her head in the refrigerator.
“No, just low-fat milk.”
“That’s fine.” She set the milk carton on the counter, pivoted to face me and took a deep breath. “I did have another reason for coming over today. I hear you suspect that Rob was involved with drugs.” She looked at me apologetically. “I might have seen something that would indicate that.”
“What?” I asked, my knees weakening.
“I couldn’t hear what they were saying, so I can’t go to the police with this.”
“Who are you talking about?”
She paused. “Rob and Harry Johnson. I wouldn’t have thought twice about it except that when they noticed me, their entire composure changed. I felt like I’d witnessed something I shouldn’t have.”
My mouth felt like the Sahara. “When was this?”
“About a month before Rob was killed. I forgot about it entirely until I saw Mona and Harry talking a few days before she was murdered. They had the same conspiratorial look about them.”
“Why would you think it was about drugs?” I asked, pouring the tea.
She shrugged. “That’s the point. I don’t know for sure. That was just the impression I got. But I could be wrong.”
“Do you think I’m right that Harry is the murderer?”
She tilted her head and thought. “Maybe. The police asked a lot of questions, but none about Harry.” She saw the look on my face. “They were mainly interested in you.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. I said nice things.”
“Janice, please go to the police. This could send them on the right track.”
She sipped her tea and nodded, but the idea seemed to disturb her.
“It can’t hurt,” I insisted. “I have this sword over my head, and unless the police start looking in other directions, I won’t rest.”
“I’ll tell you what. Let me speak to Simon. If he thinks I should report this, I will.”
“I understand,” I said, although I wasn’t sure I did.
She looked at her watch. “I have to fly. My shift begins in half an hour.” A moment later, she was gone.
I sipped my tea. Janice did have a point. Seeing Harry in conversation with Rob and then with Mona didn’t in itself mean a thing. The three of them had worked together, after all. Still, it sounded as if something had been amiss. I hoped Simon would urge her to go to the police.
Now I knew for sure that I had to question Harry Johnson. Janice and Toni were right. I should have dinner with him.
I opened the refrigerator and rummaged through the shelves. Low-fat yogurt, low-fat cheeses and salad. Then I spotted the foil-wrapped dish of yesterday’s lemon chicken—Charles’s latest skinny recipe. Toni had claimed it was delicious. I popped it into the microwave.
I took a bite. The lemon sauce was sweet and tangy, and buttery tasting—the chicken crisp and tender. How Charles had accomplished this and still made it low-cal I had no idea. This dish was delicious.
I was into my third bite when I felt a tingle in my lips. Odd, that was the first symptom I’d had after eating that oyster. Shit, I was having an allergic reaction. I hurried to the phone, but by the time I got there, my entire body was itching. I managed to dial 911 but when the operator answered all I could manage was a raspy squeak through my swo
llen throat.
“Hello? Can you speak up? I can’t hear you.” When I tried to answer, nothing came out but a squawk.
Oh my God! I was going to die. I dropped the phone and stumbled to the front door. I could hardly breathe. I opened the door and lurched out, gasping for air. The last thought that flashed through my mind was that I had to close the door. I couldn’t let Jackie escape again. Then I passed out on my front lawn.
* * *
I woke to a good-looking young man whose eyes were about three inches from mine. When I blinked, he pulled away and studied me the way I’d look at wild mushrooms to determine if they were edible.
“Hello,” he said. “Nice to have you back.”
I gathered from the doctors and nurses rushing about that I was in the hospital. The young man was still talking. “You had us all worried for a while. It’s a good thing your friend got you here when he did, otherwise you would have been in deep trouble.”
I brought my hand up to my throat. I could swallow. “You mean the six-feet-under kind of deep trouble?” I asked with a raspy voice.
He chuckled. “That might very well be.” I wanted to sit but I felt too sluggish. “Don’t try to move. You’ve had a severe allergic reaction and we’ve given you a shot of epinephrine and you’re getting diphenhydramine by IV line. It’ll take time for the swelling to go down. But you’ll be fine.”
I looked down at my arms and, sure enough, there was a tube sticking out of the left one.
“Do you have any idea what might have caused this allergic reaction?” he asked.
I shook my head, trying to think. “The only thing I’m allergic to is oysters, but I was eating chicken when I felt my lips swell.”
“Have you been in contact with oysters or other shellfish?”
I paused for a second and mulled this over. “I own a restaurant. We often have shellfish in the kitchen, but never oysters.”
He nodded with sudden understanding. “It isn’t unusual for people who are allergic to one kind of shellfish to develop an allergy to another. This can happen quite suddenly. What did you eat today?”
“Just the chicken,” I insisted
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