“I’m not sure. We don’t usually travel together, but I had an urgent matter to tend to,” Rae gave me that look that could kill. Then she carefully studied her orange enameled nails and buffed them on her jumpsuit.
Did Detective Olson know this? Rae was conveniently skirting the fact that she was a viable candidate for a murder arrest.
“I think I’ve got what I need. Thank you all,” I said and began gathering my gear. Dee and Kimball blanched at the bombshell that Rae just dropped. They got to their feet and started up the staircase to the coffee lounge.
Rae was still fluffing her hair and admiring her jewelry.
“Oh Rae. I forgot to ask. Was Rose taking any prescription medicines that you were aware of?”
“No, but she did have allergies. The magnolias and gardenias in the south drove her up the wall, so she stocked up on antihistamines,” Rae answered as if I was asking about shopping downtown. Was it just me or did they all seem unaffected by the demise (maybe even murder) of their meal ticket?
I could check with the front desk as to the times that each of them checked in. Instead of doing that right away, I thought I would leave and come back so as not to arouse any suspicions. I watched Dee and Kimball get into the elevator while Rae disappeared into the hotel gift shop. I started out the front door when I spotted someone that Maggie and I graduated with.
“Hello Heather,” I said.
Heather was putting up mail for the residents of the hotel. She turned to see who was addressing her.
“Hello,” she said with a questioning look. Heather was never the sharpest crayon in the box.
“It’s Mollie. Mollie McLachlan. I’m here doing an interview for the Northeast Georgia Beacon newspaper. I suppose you heard about Ms. Adams’ demise?” I said trying to act matter-of-fact.
“Yes. Of course. Some of her people are staying here. It’s so sad, but I’m still excited about the reunion concert. Are you going?”
“Not sure yet. I may be able to get in with a press pass. Otherwise it’s sold out,” I loved being a font of knowledge.
“Did you notice anything unusual when her crew checked in yesterday? I mean were they distressed, crying, or showing any emotions?”
“Not really. The couple was pretty jet lagged. They commented on the awful food on the airlines. The man said ‘we should have brought our own food like Rosie.’
The other one, the flashy one, came in earlier than the couple. She was already in the suite when the couple arrived. When I told them that, the lady said we should have known.
“Thanks,” I said. “Perhaps I’ll see you at the reunion concert.”
I started to text Maggie about Rae’s get up. When you are super close to someone, it’s bound to slip your mind that they aren’t around. I always think of my twin whenever I hear a joke or witness something she would enjoy. Six years and it still seems like yesterday.
A gentle summer shower began just as I headed to the parking garage. I loved the tiny drops as they splashed on my sunglasses. They smelled of fresh cut grass and of promise. Those walking on the sidewalk headed for cover – perhaps an awning or a coffee shop. I wonder if I have time . . . nope I need to get all of my notes typed up before my memory blanks. My phone showed two missed calls one from Finn and another from an unknown number. Once inside my car I played the mystery voice mail. It’s from Detective Olson.
“Sorry to have missed you. The results have come in on Ms. Adams’ toxicology report. You are off the hook as the report shows Ms. Adams came into something toxic long before you met her at the airport. I can’t reveal any more than to say when this is over I’d like to take you to lunch. I’ll telephone again later. Goodbye.”
Will wonders never cease? Rosie Adams died of something she came into contact with before we met. Lucky I didn’t come into contact with it as well. What could it be? Who do I know at the morgue that would give me a gander at that paperwork?
Time to check out my contact list and maybe make a few new friends while I’m at it. Again I called on my faithful friend, Callie.
8
You find out who your real friends are when you are desperate. Is that a quote or am I a genius? Anyway I went through a couple of old high school chums before I found Natalie. Natalie and I go back to the 2nd grade. Plus our families belong to the same congregation.
With a little research, I found out that Natalie is a forensic morgue technician. That’s a nice title for the fact that she basically runs the morgue when the head person is away. She signs in all the bodies and prepares them for autopsies but most important of all she catalogues their findings.
I reconnected with Natalie through Callie, our mutual friend, who alerted me that Natalie and her ex had just broken up. Ergo, she might be in need of a friend’s shoulder to cry onto and in exchange perhaps she’d shed light on the case that would either make me or break me.
Callie set up a Girls Night Out. I was definitely ready for some ‘down time.’ Unfortunately I would still technically be working because I wanted to find out what dear Detective Olson wasn’t allowed to tell me.
Natalie and Callie met me for drinks at a little out of the way bar. White wine all around. None of us are adventurous it seems. In my earlier days, I’d have ordered something exotic but I’m a grown up now and those days are past. I can see my sister shaking her head.
“So Natalie. How are you? Callie tells me that you work in the police morgue or something?”
“Yes. That’s right. In fact I just got a promotion to Assistant Forensic Morgue Attendant. It’s very interesting work but I have to be honest it’s sometimes gross.”
With that we all nodded and sipped our Chardonnays.
“Working for the Beacon is interesting too I suppose,” Natalie replied and blushed. I got the idea that she didn’t like talking about herself.
“True. I do get some exciting days, but other times it’s just routine,” I tried to keep it on the down low. Had my name come across her desk or was it in the newspaper even though Finn promised to keep it out?
Callie sensed the discomfort and said, “How about that new Iron Chef? Did you see how he made a full course meal with only three ingredients?”
Natalie took the bait and they talked about food, herbs, Food Channel chefs, and other boring stuff while I smiled and sipped. When the bartender asked if we wanted another round, I suggested that we walk next door to Johnny’s Pizzeria for some extraordinary pasta. And if Finn Anderson just happened to be in there eating in his favorite restaurant – well that would be a happy coincidence.
We ordered and I searched the room – no Finn. Oh well, it was worth a try! Natalie, Callie, and I chatted and made small talk about family, boyfriends, and finally jobs. Natalie had come straight from work and still had her briefcase with her. When she excused herself to the ladies’ room, I had my chance while Callie stood guard.
I opened the brief case and hit pay dirt. There were the forms for the forensic tox report, the autopsy, and a pathology report all on Ms. Adams. I used my I-phone camera and quickly snapped pictures of each before Natalie returned. I didn’t want her to get in trouble but I needed that information. My heart was beating so loudly I figured the entire restaurant would look my way. When Natalie returned, the wait person took our order and I finally relaxed.
“It must be exciting to have your finger on the latest crimes. You know like the one involving the singer Rosie Adams,” I poked at the subject and tried to sound vaguely interested.
“Yes, it is. As a matter of fact, I was on the team when we did the autopsy and filled out the toxicology report. It was the strangest one the chief said he’d ever done. There were so many variables that he had to do several tests to separate the chemicals out,” Natalie said and folded her slice of pepperoni pizza.
“Wow. Imagine that?” Callie asked. “What kinds of anomalies were there?”
“I don’t know how much I can say but she came in contact with a variety of toxins. Someone sure knew their
chemistry is all I can say.”
I chimed in, “Say Natalie, my niece is writing a paper on toxicology. When she heard we were meeting, she wanted me to ask you ‘how do you determine if someone was poisoned?’”
Natalie looked serious. “If we suspect someone is poisoned, there are a number of standard tests we perform. But even then there are some substances that don’t show up?”
“Really, fascinating,” I said and took out a notepad. “Like what? For instance.”
“Symptoms vary of course and in the case of Ms. Adams’ for instance, there weren’t any – at least that we could find. If ethylene glycol, for instance, isn’t diagnosed right away it’s fatal or if there’s a paralyzing agent and then a toxic substance, then one could disguise the other. Let’s talk about something else okay?” Natalie flagged down the waiter and order spumoni all around.
Callie interceded. Dear sweet Callie – she’s the closest thing I have to my own flesh. “Natalie, Mollie, . . Why don’t we take in a movie this weekend? I hear the new Marvel movie is great.”
Natalie agreed. We were her ticket to not spending her weekend alone eating a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream. My brain was abuzz. The clock was ticking and I would have to look up every other word since I am no chemistry nerd. What could paralyze someone? How long did it take to prove fatal? What other elements would speed it up or slow it down? And how do you come in contact with them? And most importantly, was there any chance that Rosalie Adams’ ingested, contacted with her skin, or breathed in a toxic substance in the airplane, the airport, or in the car? Was the substance still viable? And if it was in the car, have I been exposed?
9
It had been five days since a passenger expired in the back of the Beacon’s company car with me driving. It had been a fearful time with police thinking I murdered my passenger. I had also managed to get myself unemployed. But on the bright side, I’d expanded my knowledge of weird subjects like nightshade poisons, aerosol toxins, and how could you die noiselessly in the back of a Cadillac Seville going from the airport to the newspaper office?
Callie was going to touch base with Natalie again and attempt to pry some more information out of her about the Adams’ autopsy. The Adams family was using their clout to pressure the release of the body for cremation. Once that happens all evidence would be lost and the case would never be solved.
The phone rang and the caller ID was unknown. I was curious so I answered,
“Hello.”
“Mollie? This is Detective Olson . . . Jonathan.”
“Is this another mandate for me to come downtown?”
“No, nothing like that,” Jonathan said.
“I wondered if you’d like to have coffee with me. It would give us a chance to catch up. I have the afternoon off if that would work for you,” he volunteered.
“That works for me. Starbucks across from the Mall OK?”
“Sure. See you in a few.”
Things just get better and better.
Our coffee date lasted through the afternoon until early evening. We talked about high school, friends we’d lost touch with, Maggie, my Mom, and finally his mom.
“That’s the reason I moved back,” Jonathan said, “to take care of Mom in her last days and settle up everything. I am an only child so everything was left to me.”
“So sorry to hear. I know exactly what that’s like,” I said and patted his hand. That’s when I noticed his engraved ID bracelet.
“No reason to return to my former job, so I applied here and when it came through I stayed,” he added.
I was sorry that I had no idea of his mother’s illness or passing. I guess I was caught up in my own drama.
“So this case we’re caught up in is really a mystery,” I said hoping to squeeze something out of him.
“Yes, but of course since you are technically a person of interest I can’t discuss it,” he said softly.
“Oh I completely understand.” Fudge! I had hoped he would drop a tidbit of a hint. I had the toxicology report but I needed to know what was served to Rosalie Adams on her flight. And how could I find that out? Jonathan of course as an officer of the law could require that information but what clout could I use to get it?
10
As luck (or my guardian angel) would have it Callie’s boyfriend is a pilot with a major airline. She probed him about celebrity perks in the airlines and found out that there is such a thing as F.B.O. This stands for Fixed Base Operator which is an organization that provides aeronautical services to those who can afford it. This led me to another web site labeled SFO - Signature Flight Support.
Finally, light on a dark subject. This group works with the first one and furnishes gourmet meals made to order, snacks, drinks including exotic alcoholic ones, and all the luxury you could possibly want. I found the local chapter at the Atlanta airport and after going through a few of the underlings met with the manager.
“How may I help you young lady?” The badge on his navy blazer read Theodore Ursula and he looked it.
“I’m from the Northeast Georgia Beacon newspaper,” I said and flashed my own name tag and press pass. “The story I’m covering need some information only you can provide,” I smiled and tried to sound like his contribution would be ultra important, which of course it could be.
Mr. Ursula perked up at that last statement and suggested that we go to his office for privacy. We went down a busy hallway where streams of people parted for the person accompanying me. He must be the big cheese around here.
I was taken to a glass enclosed office filled with mahogany furniture and pictures of the man himself with many celebrities. No doubt this array was meant to impress and it did.
“Mr. Ursula. Are you aware of Rosalie Adams’ death?”
He blanched and cleared his throat.
“Uh, no, not really. Only what I’ve been reading in the AJC. The police haven’t called or anything. Is that why you’re here? You think that there’s a connection with FBO or Signature?”
“No one is sure. We understand that her agent went through your services to book her flight and arrange for meals. Since the toxicology reports indicate that Ms. Adams’ cause of death was a toxic substance, I wanted to find out what she ate, drank, and any environmental factors that could have been a contributing factor.”
All the blood drained from his face. He became defensive and blustery all at once. Mr. Ursula shuffled a few papers and then dialed a number. A minion appeared.
“Please escort Ms. McLachlan to the board room and ask Teresa to join us. I need to pull some files and will be with you in a moment,” he stared at the younger man and back at me. His forced smile was worse than a grimace. We complied and within a few moments I had a full menu, a list of crew members along with dates and times when everything took place. I smiled to myself and wondered if my detective friend already had this information. Now all I had to do was to analyze this pot of gold.
11
My cell rang on the way home. The caller ID showed Jonathan’s home number. He had put his private number into my phone when we had coffee. I let voice mail pick it up. He left a message. Right now I couldn’t get home fast enough. I needed someone with a chemistry background to compare stomach contents, menu, and toxicology results. I couldn’t call on Natalie because it would endanger her position in the morgue. Callie was a faithful friend but like me, she wasn’t the brightest bulb in the scientific field.
Think. What would Maggie do? If no one else was a suspect I could go to jail or worse on a murder charge. Who did we know that was a reputable contact with a scientific background?
All the way home I mentally checked off every person I could think of. I eliminated all of our family; we are nerdy but not scientific. I was never good at keeping up with our friends from high school or college. Maggie was the one who kept up with all the alumni news for both of us. We were in a business fraternity and it was all business. But I’m on the wrong track. College graduates aren’t the only ones wit
h working knowledge of plants, oils, and curatives. Time to have a much needed reunion.
An envelope slid under my apartment door took the wind out of my sails. It was no ordinary envelope that you could buy at Office Depot. It was parchment and engraved like an invitation to something significant – which it was.
Mrs. Phylomena Bradford Anderson requests your presence this evening at 7:00 p.m. for cocktails and dinner. A limousine will pick you up at this residence at precisely 6:45 p.m. Formal wear is required.
Nothing else was on the invitation which was more of a command performance by Ms. Anderson, who was Finn’s mother. Why did she want me to come to dinner at their mansion? Would the curmudgeon himself be there? Would Finn be there? I surveyed my closet which needed Maggie’s organizational skills applied. What did I have that would be suitable for such an auspicious occasion? Maggie and I were the same size – maybe something in her closet would do. Even after six years, I had no notion of disposing of her belongings. They still smelled of White Shoulders perfume and it was comforting.
I chose an electric blue maxi dress. It had been one of Maggie’s favorites. Mom’s sapphire earrings matched perfectly. I didn’t know what to expect on this command performance. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw Maggie looking back at me. Oh sister! Who killed Rosie Adams and pointed the murder toward me?
Was it my imagination or did she wink back? When I last remember her wearing this dress it was to a charity event. It was entitled “Light It Up” and referred to Africa’s label as the Dark Continent. A friend in ministry made annual trips to Johannesburg to work in orphanages, hospitals, and water projects. Had Maggie survived the pneumonia, we planned to make the pilgrimage the next summer. I was in too much trauma to follow through, but the phrase “Light It Up” lingered as I slipped on my sandals and got into the waiting limo.
Kiss and Make Up (Silent Partner Book 1) Page 3