A Taste of Death

by Suzanne Rossi

  “Just release this catch here, Ms. Jamieson, raise the bar upright and snap it into the holder. When you want to lock up, bring it back down and lock it into place. No thief who relies on the quiet approach is going to mess around with both forms of security.”

  “And the ones who don’t care about noise would just smash the glass, I guess.”

  He nodded. “Very true. Can’t help you with that.”

  She thanked the man, paid him, stuffed the receipt in a drawer until she could present it to her homeowner’s insurance company, and then turned to look at Bruno. Bruno’s tail wagged and she swore he smiled.

  “I guess we’re safe now, huh, boy? Unless the next thief breaks a window. If they really want to get in, they’ll find a way.”

  Anne now turned her attention to the dinner menu. With little in the pantry, she decided to wait until the kids returned from school to go to the grocery. In spite of the new locks, she was hesitant to leave the house empty.

  I suppose I’ll get over it eventually, but I hate the feeling of having been violated.

  The front door slamming told her the kids were home. She hurried into the foyer to greet them.

  “How was school?” she asked, eyeing her daughter.

  “Fine,” Ken replied. “Is Gil coming for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “I’ve got an assignment for English that requires me to do something I’ve never done before, and then write an essay. I thought maybe Gil could let me hang around the police station or maybe ride along in a patrol car.”

  “I’m sure there’ll be no problem.” She turned her attention to Lisa. “And how do you feel?”

  “Blech! I can barely breathe.” She coughed to add emphasis.

  “Oh dear, do you feel like eating dinner?”

  “Yeah, I guess so, but it’s going to be an early night.”

  With the kids home, Anne ran to the grocery. Not really in the mood to cook, she took the easy way out and picked up pre-packaged fried chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy. A couple of cans of corn, dinner rolls, and salad makings finished the list. She also added some over-the-counter medicines for Lisa.

  She was assembling the salad when her phone rang. It was Jen.

  “Hi, Jen. How was Fran’s?”

  “Wow, interesting to say the least.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, Nancy and I got there around two, and I even remembered to enter separately so we didn’t look together, you know, like we did that time we all went to Aristotle’s when investigating Dorie’s murder. I went in first. What did the guy you saw look like?”

  “His name was Carlos and he was about five-ten, built like a fireplug with slicked back greasy dark hair and these really penetrating brown eyes. He was also rude as hell. Very uncouth.”

  “Well, he wasn’t there today. We talked to a skinny dude with messy blond hair pulled back in a pony tail. He acted like we were intruders or something. At any rate, I went in and asked for urns. Said I was redoing my den in the Grecian style. I had to explain to him what an urn was. He said they didn’t have any. I asked if I could put my name on a list to get one if they came in and he said he didn’t think so.”

  Jen paused for breath. So did Anne. Listening to Jen talk was an adventure in breath control.

  “Jen, slow down.”

  Her friend laughed. “I know, but I’m excited. While I was asking my questions, Nancy came in and said she wanted to see what was available in old trunks. She got the same spiel I did—none available. As she was talking, I kinda wandered around until I found the office. The door was open and there sat good old George at the desk. He gave me the fish eye, but I just plunged in and asked the same questions of him I did of the sales guy. Got the same answers.”

  “That’s weird. It’s like he doesn’t care one way or the other about the store.”

  “My thoughts exactly! Maybe he’s going to sell it or something.”

  “That’s not the impression I got,” Anne replied, recalling the conversation she’d overheard the first time she was there. “How about Nancy?”

  “Are you kidding? After she asked her questions, the guy followed her all over the store like a puppy. Maybe she didn’t look as trustworthy as me. When we met up later, she said the guy started asking her questions about why she wanted trunks and how did she know about the shop. Nancy also said he gave her the creeps, so she left after only ten minutes. I stuck it out for twenty, and then beat it. I don’t know what’s going on, but it sure isn’t any way to run a business.”

  “I agree. There’s something wrong about the whole set-up. Thanks for helping. I’ll call Nancy.”

  She hung up from Jen and called Nancy. Her story was more or less the same.

  “Anne, there was just something off about his questions asking why I wanted trunks. It was almost as if he expected me to know they had them even though he denied it. If I were you, I’d get rid of those folders.”

  “I’ll give them to Gil tonight. He’s coming over for dinner.”

  “Good idea. Brad and I are taking in a seminar on the age of volcanic rocks around the world or some such at the local community college.”

  “Have fun.”

  “I will, but it won’t be at the seminar.”

  Anne laughed and disconnected, then headed upstairs to check on Lisa. She handed her the meds with instructions to take them, and then entered the office. She had talked to both Kathy and Ellie earlier and both agreed the time was right to hold the election. Kathy had made up a ballot and e-mailed it to Anne. She had put out the information on the chapter loop immediately. Susan could still receive messages on the loop, just not write a response. All she had to do was download the ballot, and vote. With any luck, they’d have a new treasurer by Friday—and it wouldn’t be Susan.

  The loop was fairly quiet. Just several promotional “vote for me” entreaties. She hated those requests. Getting all your friends to vote for your book or cover was no indication of the quality of the product. Blurbs for various conferences and workshops available online also showed up. Anne wasn’t sure Susan’s absence was a good thing. It just gave the tiresome woman more time to let the paranoia run amok. Lord only knows what kind of skullduggery she’s hatching.

  A long e-mail from Ellie told her the critique group roundup was going well. Another message from Jane thanked Anne for her discretion concerning the resignation. She was being released soon and would go into therapy.

  The last e-mail was from Becky Lawrence.

  Anne, would it be all right if I dropped by early tomorrow afternoon? I need to talk to you about something and don’t want anyone else to know.

  She replied that one-thirty would be good and wondered what Becky had to say. Something about the affair her husband had with Fran? Or maybe the late president’s rumored affairs with other members’ husbands.

  With that done, Anne returned downstairs to assemble dinner. Gil arrived on time, but looked tired.

  “Heavens, I hope you’re not coming down with a cold. Lisa has one and there seems to be something going around.”

  “I’m fine, just not a whole lot of sleep the last few nights.” He followed her into the kitchen where he opened a bottle of wine. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Store bought fried chicken,” Ken said with a grin as he entered the room.

  “Ken! Okay, he’s right. I just wasn’t in a mood to cook. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Hey, Gil, while I’ve got you, I have a favor to ask.”

  While Anne slid the chicken into the preheated oven and turned her attention to the rest of the meal, Ken made his request.

  “I can arrange for you to take a tour of the station and have you do a ride in a patrol car,” Gil told him.

  “Wow, that’s great. Thanks.”

  Dinner turned out to be excellent, although Anne hated to admit the store bought fried chicken was better than hers. Lisa, however, picked at her food.r />
  “Are you feeling any better,” Anne asked her.

  “Not really. Screw homework. I don’t have that much anyway. I think I’ll go to bed early.” She pushed back her plate and rose. “In fact, now sounds like a good time. I’m so tired. Goodnight, all. Nice to see you again, Gil.”

  “Hope you feel better,” he said as Lisa left the room.

  Ken followed shortly leaving the two of them alone. After cleaning up the kitchen, they retired to the living room.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked. “Nervous about being in the house?”

  “Not really. Did you check out any other break-ins in the neighborhood?”

  “Been three in the past two months—yours, one on Seabreeze, and another on Kingfish. Money was taken along with some random items, but that’s about all. In your case, they just messed things up.”

  “Funny, I don’t see how they missed the two hundred dollars I have stashed in the sideboard drawer in the dining room. In fact, it’s odd that only my bedroom and office were violated.”

  “Kids. They look in those places first.”

  “I can see the bedroom, but the office is the strange thing. And speaking of kids, anything new with Wainwright’s car?” she asked.

  Gil shook his head. “No. Kids were sent to juvie, but I doubt they lied.”

  “Pretty stupid to drive around in a stolen car for a week. They had to assume the owner reported it as such.”

  “These two didn’t strike me as having a wealth of brains or deductive powers. They got away with it as long as they did because Wainwright’s car was a small-sized white one. A ton of those on the streets, and unless the kids did something dumb like speeding or driving recklessly, any patrol officer seeing them wouldn’t think to check. Can’t call in every white car they see.”

  “I suppose, plus the kids may have suspected the car was stolen when they found it.”

  “I don’t think that even crossed their little minds. They saw an opportunity and took it. And don’t forget, they parked it in an out of the way area in an alley behind one of the kids’ houses.”

  “Anything else on the waiter’s death? Or Fran’s?”

  Once again Gil shook his head, a look of frustration on his face.

  “Tons of fingerprints in Wainwright’s apartment. It’s taking a while to sift through them all. And so far, no one can identify the so-called ghost or the bogus waiter from your meeting. The wait staff says they never noticed him.”

  “That would make sense if he grabbed the plates set aside, slipped into the room, served Fran and Jane, and then split. How about fingerprints on the plate served to Fran?”

  He shook his head. “Partials or smudged.”

  “What about the bag of coke?”

  “Just Wainwright’s, which leads me to think the killer wore gloves.”

  “Wouldn’t Wainwright have noticed his supplier wearing gloves of any sort?”

  “I think his focus was on the drugs, not his visitor.”

  Anne sighed. “Anything unusual turn up in Fran’s financials?”

  “Not on a personal level. Haven’t completely checked the antique store yet.”

  “I’ve discovered some facts concerning Fran and the chapter finances, but that’s all. I’m more interested in the antique store. After all, Fran was investigating offshore accounts. Did the lawyers ever get back to you?”

  Gil made a face. “Only to say they couldn’t talk about it—attorney/client privilege. When I told them this was a murder investigation, they hemmed and hawed before saying that Ms. Harrison came to them with a personal problem and they recommended the private investigators she eventually hired.”

  “I suppose it stands to reason that if she was embezzling from the chapter, she’d be doing the same from the shop.” Anne heaved a sigh. “You know, money really is the root of all evil. You don’t have much so you lie, cheat, and walk all over people to get more. Only more is never enough. You just keep right on lying, cheating, and stepping on trusting friends and acquaintances to get even more. I wonder if more is ever enough.”

  She didn’t like to remember what she’d done for the sake of money.

  “For some people, no. They’re never satisfied and that makes them unhappy. I believe the happiest people are those who have loving families and strong values regardless of their social or financial status.”

  “Which reminds me, I need to give you those folders I accidentally took from Fran’s. They deal with the shop, but don’t make any sense. Maybe they can help you in the investigation.” She told him what she, Nancy, Rose, and Jen had speculated.

  “I thought you were going to return them to Mr. Harrison,” Gil said giving her a sharp look.

  “I planned on it. Then I saw what a shambles the chapter finances were in and forgot.” She had to tread lightly and didn’t look him in the eye. “Just a second, I’ll get them.”

  Anne retrieved the folders from the secretary in the corner of the living room where she’d stashed them earlier and handed them to him.

  “They’re lists, but don’t sound very businesslike to me. And if nothing else, Fran was sharp about business.”

  “Thanks, I’ll look at them tomorrow.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s been a long two days. I need to get home. Are you sure everything is all right here?”

  “Yes, it’s fine. I had new locks installed today on the sliding glass door, and since nothing was taken, I have to assume the thieves won’t think it worthwhile to take a second crack at me.”

  Gil rose from the sofa and lightly kissed her forehead. “Never assume. Just be careful, okay.”

  “I will.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed more than her forehead. Delicious heat rose from the pit of her stomach. Her toes curled and her fingers clenched his polo shirt.

  “I think I’ll sleep happy tonight,” he said with a smile.

  “I won’t.”

  Gil laughed and walked into the foyer. “What’s on your agenda for tomorrow?”

  “I have no idea, but if I don’t get something logical written soon, I’ll scream.”

  “In that case, I’ll call you later in the day.” He leaned down to kiss her again lightly. “Have a good night.”

  She waved goodbye, then wandered into the kitchen, poured a glass of wine, and sat at the kitchen table.

  There! The folders are with Gil. Maybe he can make some sense out of them.

  Her thoughts turned to the next day. Becky was due to drop by around one-thirty. Her e-mail hadn’t sounded all that urgent, but Anne wondered exactly how truthful the woman had been about her husband’s affair with Fran, and if she had more information concerning possible other love interests the former president kept secret.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I don’t care what you say, you are not going to school today. You have a fever,” Anne said forcefully as she removed her hand from her daughter’s forehead.

  “But Mom, today and tomorrow are review for the big test on Thursday!”

  “If you go to school today, you might be too sick to take the test on Thursday. And besides, you could infect other people. Now, march! I’ll bring up some orange juice later.” She used her “mommy” voice and pointed up the stairs.

  With a heavy sigh, Lisa obeyed.

  “Take your temperature along with some aspirin and crawl right back into bed,” Anne called up after her retreating daughter.

  “So, the sickie is going to lounge around all day watching TV and eating good stuff,” Ken said as he assembled his books in a backpack. “Think I’ll get sick tomorrow.”

  “Don’t you dare. I haven’t had both of you home sick at the same time since you were in grade school and got chicken pox within days of each other. If you want to be helpful, you can go to her classes and get any assignments she might have, especially from history. She’s got a test soon.”

  “Will do. I’m off. Don’t forget to lock up behind me,” her son said as he opened the door and left.
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br />   She sighed. Now her sixteen-year-old son was giving her safety instructions.

  Not being one to slack off when it came to her kids’ health or safety, Anne waited another thirty minutes until the doctor’s office opened and secured an appointment for ten o’clock. It would totally kill her day as far as writing would go, but that’s the way it worked. Family comes first.

  She took a glass of orange juice up to Lisa who had curled up under the covers.

  “Did you take your temperature? How about the aspirin?”

  Lisa nodded. “Thanks, Mom. And yes, it’s a hundred and one, but I’ll be fine by dinner.”

  “Well, just to make sure, you have an appointment with Dr. Brunner at ten, so catch a nap.”

  She entered her office and pulled up her latest work in progress. She had a little over an hour and a half before the appointment. Maybe she could get a few pages written.

  Fate conspired against that idea when her phone rang. It was Nancy. At eight-twenty? Now what?

  “Hi, Nancy, you’re up with the birds this morning.”

  “Yeah, well, I just thought I’d give you a little heads-up here.”

  “About what? And please don’t say the chapter finances.”

  “No, nothing like that. Jack Holloway has that under control. I just thought I’d let you know I’m going out of town for a while.”

  “Really? Good idea. You haven’t had a vacation in years.”

  “It’s sort of a vacation.”

  Her hesitant tone sent Anne’s antennae soaring. “Sort of?”

  “Brad decided that those rumblings I told you about can’t be ignored much longer, so he’s taking off for the South Pacific this afternoon. I’m going with him.”

  “What!”

  “Brad’s boss called last night and suggested he might want to have a look. Brad said that as long as the volcano is in this stage, it’s not dangerous, and since I know next to nothing about volcanoes, he thought I might like to tag along. If things escalate, he’ll send me home pronto.”

  Anne couldn’t decide if she was appalled or envious.

  “But this is so unlike you. What on earth are you going to do except get in the way? No offense,” she hastened to add.