The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery)

by Bernhardt, Susan

  Phil reached for my hand, taking it in his. “Kay, please don’t get too involved in this. It's dangerous.”

  I looked over at Phil. I wanted to ask him how he knew that, but something in the concern and sincerity in his eyes made me let the question go. I decided to ignore the issue of The Starlite for now and slipped my arm beneath Phil's as we came up to our block.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Saturday, November 12

  Saturday morning after breakfast, Will started studying at the kitchen table. I finished making the marinade for the fajitas, and then sat in the living room in my favorite armchair, propped my feet up on the ottoman, and started to read James' selection for the book club. The book was as morbid as I expected it to be. It must have been difficult, even for James, to find a book as forlorn as this one, Murder Most Ghastly. I didn't know how far I would get into the book before giving up.

  I heard an unfamiliar voice in the kitchen. Had someone come over? Happy to find any excuse to put down the book, I went to investigate, welcoming the interruption.

  Only Will was in the kitchen, leaning over his laptop, typing at a furious pace. The voice, thin and metallic, continued a monologue that sounded like a recitation of sorts. “Will, do you have the radio on?”

  Will looked up and tipped back in his chair. “No Mom, a recording from a lecture. It's on the test Monday.”

  My eyes opened wide. The recorder! Of course. I'd forgotten about Sherman's recorder. He was always speaking into one whenever I saw him walking to campus. How could I have forgotten a feature so prominent and inseparable from the professor’s image?

  “Do you mind if I take a quick look at that?” I asked Will, pointing at it.

  Will handed me the recorder. “Be careful not to erase anything.”

  I'd never had an opportunity to see Sherman’s recorder up close, but Will’s appeared to be a similar machine. “It's so small. Can you record many lectures on it?”

  “Maybe thirty hours.”

  “That's a long time. Thanks so much.” I leaned over, put the recorder back in front of Will, and gave him a big hug.

  Will looked at me with a quizzical smirk. “Sure thing. Anytime.”

  I took the phone and address book into the living room, looked up Mary Ann's number, and dialed.

  “Answer...answer,” I said aloud to myself. She answered on the third ring. “Mary Ann, it's Kay. Do you know what became of Sherman’s recorder?” I asked in an excited voice. “The one he always had with him?”

  “That?” She paused a short while. “I don’t think I’ve seen it. Never even thought of it. Come to think of it, it wasn’t in his personal effects they gave me.”

  “What did he record with it?”

  “Thoughts about his upcoming book. He'd write them down later. Oh...also, he recorded interviews he conducted.”

  “Interviews?” I repeated. “So, he would have had it when he met Dr. Anders on Friday?”

  “Yes...oh yes, for sure he would have had it then.”

  * * * *

  Ecstatic, I walked straight out the front door, across the lawn, over to Deirdre's. As soon as she answered the door, I blurted out, “Deirdre. Remember, we kept saying something was missing?” I must have interrupted her yoga practice. She wore a black yoga halter top and leggings. Her hair was tied back.

  “What?”

  “Something we were missing about Sherman.”

  “Oh. Yes, something obvious, but just out of reach…” Deirdre said, trailing off and looking at me expectantly. “Come in. Did you figure out what?”

  I followed Deirdre into her bright living room and sat down on her sofa. I heard the music of Satie drifting from one of the rooms, slight varying chords in the background with a melody overlaying it. I wasn't fond of the music, but I could understand how Deirdre did yoga to it. “His...Sherman's recorder. Whenever I saw him walking to and from campus, he was always talking into it.”

  Deirdre's eyebrows rose. Her voice went up an octave. “Of course. What happened to it?”

  “I just got off the phone with Mary Ann. It wasn't among Sherman’s belongings.”

  Deirdre's eyes widened. “Kay, remember the saying on the bench? ‘Amazed at the onslaught of words heard, explanations were given, causes and consequences all told.’”

  “You memorized it?” I asked, surprised. “That's right...the saying. How strange.”

  She nodded. Her voice wavered. “I've been meditating on it. It's an omen. Something's on that recorder that will reveal to us what happened to Sherman.”

  “Sherman's notes and interviews are on it. Mary Ann said he was meeting Dr. Anders about his book at Sonnie's that Friday night when he hurried past Phil and me on our way to Jo's.”

  “What made you think of it?”

  “Will listened to a lecture on his, and all of a sudden it hit me.”

  Deirdre hesitated. “Maybe Al or Bill got their hands on it?”

  I shrugged. “Could be. What if they didn’t? We don’t know where Sherman was Friday night after Sonnie's, but we do know where he was on Saturday, in the vacant store, and down by the river.”

  Deirdre nodded. “That's right.”

  “I’m not too keen about going to the store, but the river...would you want to go to the river bank and search the area?”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. It could have slipped out of his pocket there. It’s not a huge area to search,” I said.

  “Okay, sure, I'll go. But don't you think someone must have found it and picked it up by now?”

  “I don't know.” I rose from the sofa and started toward the door. “It's worth a look.”

  “I’ll change and call Elizabeth,” Deirdre said.

  “I'll get the car,” I said, excited to be acting on a new lead.

  I went back home and told Will I would be out for a while. He waved and went back to studying. Just as I was about to leave, the phone rang.

  I picked up the telephone in the study.

  “Kay, it's Marissa.”

  Hmm...Marissa. She had never called me before. “Hello, Marissa.”

  “I wanted to let you know, yesterday, Dr. Anders, Al Stewart, and Bill Murphy were in the patisserie. Remember, I told you I'd keep my ears open around those three?”

  “Did you hear anything?”

  “I went into the room a number of times to listen in on them. Whenever I approached the table, they stopped talking. I made every excuse to keep dropping in near them, arranging flowers, clearing off tables...” I glanced at my watch. Deirdre and Elizabeth would be waiting. “After a while, I heard your name mentioned, and they didn't sound too happy. I didn't hear much but...” She paused. “They said, ‘What should we do with Kay Driscoll?’”

  What should we do with Kay Driscoll? I shuddered involuntarily. My heart started to race. I pulled out the chair by the desk and sat down. I couldn't catch my breath.

  “Kay, are you there?”

  A few moments passed. “Yes...yes, I'm here. I'm trying to take in what you just said. Are you sure? What does that mean?”

  “Yes...scary...I don't know...don't even want to think of what it could mean. Kay, just be careful.”

  “I will. I will. Thank you so much for telling me.”

  I hung up the phone. My hands were all sweaty. I wiped them on my pants. I took a deep breath, sat for a minute longer, grabbed the car keys and left.

  * * * *

  Deirdre, Elizabeth, and I drove over to campus. I told them about my conversation with Marissa. Their concern about my safety overshadowed their excitement of searching for the recorder. After several more urgings to be careful and not to put myself in harm’s way, I assured them I would be very cautious indeed and that I had a guardian, Thom, in the FBI, watching me. That seemed to quell them for the time being. We parked close to the Druid Theatre and walked back the short distance to the river bank. There wasn't any sign that somebody had died here not too long ago. The crime scene tape had been removed from the ed
ge of the path leading down to where we found Sherman's body.

  The entire area was covered with a carpet of fallen foliage. Leaves obscured the paths with their mottled colors. Three paths led down to the river bank where we found Sherman half-submerged in the water.

  “They could have dragged him down the embankment right here,” Deirdre said, “but the path is steep.”

  “Why drag when you can shove and let gravity do the work? Seems a good place to toss him in,” Elizabeth said.

  I looked over at Deirdre. She raised her eyebrows. Elizabeth sounded so nonchalant. So apathetic.

  “Elizabeth, Sherman died from drowning. The killers would have had to hold his head down in the water. Sherman could have regained consciousness when he landed in the water, and the killers wouldn't have taken that chance. They wouldn't have just tossed him down the embankment.” Being here was starting to creep me out.

  We made our way down one of the three paths, crunching through the crisp debris toward the river. “It would have been easy to drag Sherman along this path to the water. It's obscure. You can’t see this area from the road,” I pointed out.

  “Probably a quick operation, dump Sherman in the river and speed away. They were here and gone in a few minutes,” Elizabeth said.

  I shook my head. Sometimes Elizabeth, she wore my patience thin. “Let’s start on this path. If we don’t find anything, we can always search the others.”

  “Quite a long shot finding the recorder here,” Elizabeth said. “Could have been dropped anywhere along the way. I’m glad there isn’t anyone around. This would be hard to explain.”

  “We can just tell people we’re searching for fairy rings,” Deirdre said, her eyes on the ground as she kicked up a cloud of red and brown leaves.

  “Like I said, glad there isn’t anyone around,” Elizabeth repeated, shuffling her feet through the leaves as she made her way off to the side.

  I started swinging a stick back and forth over the ground to clear the leaves away. After the three of us searched diligently for about half an hour, I saw Elizabeth walk off the path a few yards and bend down picking something up.

  “Elizabeth, did you find anything?” I called out.

  “Just a pair of busted sunglasses.” She held them up in the air for us to see. They were red.

  “Wasn't Al dressed as Elton John,” Deirdre asked, “at the Halloween Ball?”

  “He was,” I said, walking over to Elizabeth to get a better view of the glasses.

  “Those are Al's, all right! I remember the rhinestones.” I took the sunglasses in my hands and turned them around several times. “He wore those when we danced. I'll never forget the feeling, terrified of what he was capable of, frightened he knew I was onto him.” I looked out over the water remembering that night. A chill ran through me. “So Al came here after he left the Halloween Ball,” I said, leaving my statement hanging in the cold air.

  The three of us continued searching. After about twenty minutes, Elizabeth said, “I don't think it's here. Too much of a long shot. I'm leaving. I have a lunch date.”

  “John?” Deirdre asked.

  “Who else?”

  With Elizabeth, it could have been anyone. “Have fun, Elizabeth. I'm going to keep at this for a little while longer,” I said.

  “I'll stay, also,” offered Deirdre.

  Elizabeth said goodbye and made her way up the embankment to walk back home. We resumed our search. After a while longer, Deirdre said, “Nothing's here. If Sherman was dragged to the water, the only other place would be that path over there. Let's give it a try.”

  “Al’s glasses were found on this path,” I said, “this must be the one they took.”

  “Right.”

  “We concentrated on the incline and ignored the top,” I said. “Let’s go back there and start again.”

  We made our way up to the top, our eyes staring at the ground.

  The sun was overhead. It was getting late, and I needed to get back to make lunch. Soon Andrew and Rose would be arriving. This was a long shot like Elizabeth said. I continued swinging a stick back and forth over the ground. The wind started to pick up, blowing the leaves around.

  “Doesn't look promising,” Deirdre said.

  “At least we have Al's sunglasses. That ties him here,” I said shuffling my feet. “Let's give this another fifteen minutes, and then I have to leave.”

  I walked a little further down the path while Deirdre stayed at the top. Halfway down the embankment, I kicked something hard under the leaves with my shoe. I saw a black shiny corner of something exposed. I bent down to pick it up. I couldn’t believe it. The recorder! On the back was Sherman Walters' name with his phone number. I noticed right away that it was in the “on” position, the batteries dead. How could I have missed it when we started our search?

  I looked up toward Deirdre who was still near the top of the hill. I held the recorder up. “Deirdre!”

  Deirdre called out, “Kay, you found it!” Her voice carried.

  As I watched Deirdre hurry down toward me, a man and a woman dressed in black suits, wearing sunglasses, appeared at the top of the embankment looking down toward the two of us. Who were they? I drew a deep breath, uneasy at the appearance of strange people approaching in the woods. My whole body tensed, guarded, on the defensive. I prepared myself for sudden action should the need arise. I kept my head down but scanned the area for a weapon or the best escape route.

  Deirdre reached me. “How exciting!”

  “Deirdre, behind you...the top of the hill,” I said to her.

  Deirdre turned around and looked up the hill. I turned facing the water, trying to put the recorder into my pants pocket along with the sunglasses. My hands trembled and I almost dropped the recorder. I'd have to listen to it later, as soon as I had the chance. My heart beat hard against my jacket.

  “I wonder who they are?” Deirdre said, turning toward me, her eyes inquisitive. I shook my head, not knowing any more than she did who these people were.

  The man and the woman started down the hill. As they approached us, the man asked, “Are you Mrs. Kay Driscoll?”

  “Kay who?” Deirdre asked, trying to protect me.

  “I just heard you call her Kay,” the man said, straight-faced.

  My heart continued racing. I looked over at Deirdre. The color had left her cheeks. I'm sure mine had as well.

  “I'm Special Agent Edgar Mitchell with the FBI Milwaukee Field Office, and this is Agent Debra Langenberg. We're here about the Walters' case. We've gone over his information with Special Agent Thom Harris from our Denver Field Office.”

  They reached into their pockets and showed their ID. I looked over their credentials. Agent Langenberg extended her hand to Deirdre and myself. Deirdre shook her hand. Agent Mitchell didn't offer his.

  I kept thinking of all the warnings I received. Be careful...be careful. Are these people for real? The ID looked legit. They did mention Thom's name. Who else would know that? I took her hand in mine. Her grip was firm. She had kind green eyes.

  “Yes, I'm Kay Driscoll.”

  Agent Mitchell nodded. “We came to see the area where Sherman Walters’ body was discovered,” Special Agent Mitchell said. “Why are you here?”

  “We're just looking around,” Deirdre said, “for fairy rings.”

  Agent Langenberg looked at Agent Mitchell. Agent Mitchell's sunglasses remained pointed in my direction.

  “Did you find something just now?” Agent Mitchell asked. His lips tightened.

  “Fairy rings? No,” Deirdre said.

  “Mrs. Driscoll, what were you holding up?” Agent Mitchell asked.

  “Thom Harris said I should expect you,” I said, ignoring his question. “We're just looking around the area.” No way was I handing over this recorder, at least not until I listened to it.

  “Mrs. Driscoll, I want to warn you to be careful,” Agent Mitchell said. “I don't think I need to remind you this is an official investigation, and you sho
uldn't be seen poking around at a crime scene.”

  “Is it still a crime scene?” I asked.

  “We will want to speak with you more at length...alone,” Agent Langenberg added, looking over at Deirdre. “Agent Harris has filled us in on the information you've given him. May we stop at your home later today?”

  “Um, yes, that sounds good. I'm going to call Thom, Agent Harris, as soon as I get home,” I said. These two knew a lot about the case. But I still didn't trust them. So many people here seemed to be involved. No matter what, I wouldn't let go of the recorder. I looked over at Deirdre and said, “We should get going.” I wanted to get away. Deirdre and I started up the embankment. Reaching the top, I turned around, Mitchell and Langenberg were both staring at the river bank, talking to each other. They turned and glanced up at us.

  * * * *

  When I arrived home, lunch was prepared and waiting. Phil had came home early from his lab. I hurried upstairs and put the sunglasses and recorder into a bag on the top shelf of my closet and came back down.

  Andrew walked through the door just as we finished eating.

  “Andrew!” I stood up and greeted him with a big hug and kiss.

  “Hello, Mom,” Andrew said, putting his arms around me. He handed me a book. “I brought along this mystery for you that I just finished. Lethal Liaison. Maybe you could use it for your book club. It's a thriller.”

  “We're always looking for a good book. Thanks.”

  “Hi, Dad. Happy birthday, Will! Rose says happy birthday, also.”

  “Thanks, Andy.”

  I looked around. “Where's Rose?”

  “Rose was called into work this morning,” Andy said. “She'll be there all day.”

  “Andy, let's go downstairs for a couple of minutes,” Will said. “I want to show you this great billiard trick shot I've been perfecting.”

  So all Will ever does is study, work, and go to class, eh? I smiled. “Phil, you made lunch. Why don't you join them downstairs for a game? I'll clean up and come down later. We can play teams.”

  As soon as they all went downstairs to play pool, I called Thom to check on Agents Mitchell and Langenberg. To my relief, he confirmed the two were who they said they were. I told him about finding the recorder, also about my dislike of being swept aside by the agents, and reiterated if it hadn't been for me there wouldn't be a case at all. He told me to turn over the recorder to the agents, that withholding evidence and impeding an investigation was a crime, and spoke again about the danger involved.