Death A La Mode

by Tawdra Kandle

  “When does the music start?” He raised his voice to ask the question.

  The server glanced at the clock above the bar. “Any time now. You fans? This girl is a big draw.”

  “She is.” Lucas pointed at me. “The rest of us are hearing her for the first time.”

  “You’ll love her.” She picked up two empty baskets and whisked them away as she maneuvered between tables.

  As if on cue, a shrill whistle cut through the noise, quieting conversations as all eyes turned to the small stage at one end of the restaurant. A pretty redhead stood in front of the microphone, waiting until she had the room’s attention.

  “Hey, y’all! Welcome to the Riptide! Tonight, we’re excited to welcome back one of our favorites, rising star folk singer Crissy Darwin!”

  The room erupted in shouts and applause as Crissy appeared, accompanied by a man carrying a guitar. She was flushed, smiling and glancing over the audience.

  “Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight! We’re going to kick it off with one of my favorites and yours.”

  Without further ado, they launched into an upbeat number that had everyone clapping their hands and singing along. The set moved along quickly, although I noticed Crissy didn’t spend as much time as usual chatting between songs. I wondered how difficult it had been to take the stage tonight, with the sorrow over Maddy still so fresh and new.

  After about forty-five minutes, Crissy paused at the microphone, gazing out over the audience. When she caught sight of Lucas and me, she smiled and gave us a slight nod.

  “The next song is one of my new ones, and it’s very close to my heart. I’d like to dedicate it to my friend and manager, Maddy Cane.” She lifted her eyes up, kissed her fingers and raised them, as though throwing a kiss to heaven.

  The ballad she sang was slow and heartbreaking, a song mourning lost love and missed chances. When the last note ended, I doubted there could be a dry eye in the house.

  After that song, she took a break, bowing off and promising to return in twenty minutes for the second set. As the lights rose, I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  “Are you Jackie?” The young woman behind me had glossy black hair and a huge brown eyes. “Hi, I’m Trina Wilson. Crissy sent me out to see if you and your friends would like to come back and say hello. She’s got a private table out on the deck, and she’d love for you all to be her guests.”

  Rafe lifted his eyebrows. “Backstage passes? Guess it pays to know people who are connected.”

  As we rose to follow Trina, she turned back to beam a smile at us. “Crissy and I’ve been friends since grade school. She was so grateful to you for coming tonight. The last few days have been difficult.”

  “I can imagine.” We filed out onto the deck, and the cool night air made me shiver. Lucas wrapped his arm around me, tucking me close.

  “Jackie, Lucas—thank you so much for coming.” Crissy stood up from the table and met us both with a hug. “It was wonderful to see some friendly faces in the crowd.”

  “Are you kidding? This was great. And you had the crowd in the palm of your hand. They all love you.”

  “Thanks.” A flicker of doubt crossed her face, but it vanished as she smiled at Rafe and Nell. “Hi, I’m Crissy. Thanks for coming.”

  We made the introductions all around, and then Crissy pointed to the man still sitting at the table. “That’s Dell Jamison, my guitarist.”

  I smiled at the man who nodded at us. Beside me, Lucas twitched, but when I glanced up at him, he only shook his head slightly.

  “And you met Trina, right? She’s been helping me out for the last year, kind of my unofficial assistant.”

  “It’s so much fun!” Trina gave Crissy a quick side-hug. “Crissy and I were in choir together for years, but she’s the one who’s making it big. I’m just happy to ride on her coattails.”

  The door from the restaurant opened, and the same waitress who was serving us came out, carrying a tray. “Here you go. Help yourselves, and if you need anything else, just let me know.”

  “Crissy!” The door flew open again, and this time a woman in a denim mini skirt and T-shirt rushed through, heading our way. Trina stood up, putting herself between Crissy and the newcomer. The woman slowed, raising her hands. “I know, I know, this is your private time, but I just had to come back to say you totally killed it in the first set. The house was on fire.” She squealed and clapped her hands.

  “Thanks, Diane.” Crissy sounded weary. “I appreciate it. You know I’m always grateful for your support.”

  “Oh, totally, you know you have that. My heart was just breaking for you tonight. Losing Maddy is a tragedy. I don’t know how you even did it tonight, singing like everything was okay.” She glanced at Lucas, Rafe, Nell and me, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, I’m sorry. You have company?”

  “These are friends of mine, Diane. Diane’s a super-fan.” Crissy’s voice was a tad brittle. “She comes to all my shows, no matter what.”

  “And I always will. I’m just dying here, waiting until I can download you into my iPod.”

  Trina took hold of Diane’s arm, gently steering her away. “Crissy’s got to eat now before she goes back on. Let’s give her some privacy, okay?”

  Diane shook off Trina’s hand. “Oh, I know. I’m going.” She waggled her fingers in a little wave. “See you all later. Bye, Dell. Bye, Crissy.”

  As she disappeared back into the restaurant, Crissy sighed. “I suppose I should be grateful. Diane follows me everywhere, re-posts all my stuff on social media and just loves everything I do.”

  “She’s creepy.” Trina made a face and picked up a bowl of chili. “And she makes me crazy, always pushing her way into things.”

  “She’s just lonely.” Dell spoke for the first time as he reached for a hamburger. “Her life is empty, so she fills it up with someone else’s stuff.”

  “God, Dell, that was deep.” Crissy nudged him. “How many beers have you had?”

  He shrugged. “Hey, I know Diane’s weird. But I’ve talked to her before. She’s harmless.”

  “Probably.” Crissy turned back to us. “Let’s talk about something else. You’ve met my crew here, but tell me how you all know each other.”

  Nell’s eyes met mine, and I saw unfamiliar mirth there. Yeah, explaining how we’d met would definitely be complicated.

  “I do some consulting work with the same company Rafe and Nell work for.” Lucas reached for a French fry and dipped it into a small bowl of ketchup. Well, maybe it wasn’t that complicated after all.

  “That’s cool. Oh, Jackie, my mom tried one of the recipes from Al’s cookbook. Thanks again, so much. How’s the search for the perfect pecan pie coming?”

  “I think I’ve got it. I don’t want to jinx anything, but this morning, I made what I hope will be this year’s winner.”

  “I’m crossing my fingers for you.” She smiled and then pulled out her phone to look at the time. “Crud, they’re going to be calling me to go back on soon. Well, I’m glad we got to visit. I guess I’ll see you at the Festival next week, right?” Crissy stood and twisted, stretching her back.

  “Crissy, I don’t feel so hot.” Trina put her hand to her chest.

  “Well, you scarfed up that chili pretty fast. No wonder you have heartburn.”

  “I don’t think it’s heartburn. My stomach—” She clutched at her middle. “And my arms hurt.” Trina pushed away from the table, but when she tried to stand, she listed to the side, her eyes rolling back in her head.

  “Call 9-1-1!” Lucas shouted, and Rafe pulled out his phone. Vaguely I heard him muttering terse instructions.

  Lucas and Dell lowered Trina to the deck floor, while Crissy dropped to her knees next to her friend. “Trina! Wake up. Come on, open your eyes.” Her shoulders shook as she hovered over her friend.

  Nell slipped away, going back into the bar. A few minutes later, she came back along with an older woman.

  “She’s a doctor,” Nell murmured to me.
“I thought it wouldn’t hurt to have someone medical around until the paramedics arrive.”

  “Good thinking.” I squeezed Nell’s arm.

  The doctor knelt by Trina, pulling open her eyes and asking us terse questions.

  “You should know, this could be poisoning.” Lucas spoke quietly. “Another associate of Crissy’s was killed by strychnine earlier this week.”

  The doctor’s eyes widened. “That tracks. Strychnine? Damn.”

  We heard sirens in the distance, growing louder as the ambulance came closer. Within seconds, the deck shook with the pounding of feet rushing over to us.

  “Suspected poisoning. Get charcoal on board stat.” Trina’s body began to convulse, and the doctor cursed. “Dammit, she’s seizing. We need phenobarbital. Miss, you need to move.” She pushed Crissy out of the way.

  The rest of us stood back, watching as the team worked on Trina. Faster than I expected, they had her on a stretcher, rolling her toward the steps that led to the street.

  The doctor lingered, turning to us. “She’s stable, and I think we probably acted fast enough. She’s lucky. A little delay . . .” She shook her head. “You said someone else died of strychnine poisoning? What the hell are you people involved in?”

  Crissy leaned into Dell as he held her close. He glanced at us.

  “We don’t know what’s going on.” Lucas’s face was troubled. “But given two cases of poisoning around her, I think it’s safe to say someone’s trying to kill Crissy.”

  I’d known it, realized it must be the truth at some point as I’d watched them work on Trina. But hearing Lucas say it out loud made me go cold.

  “What was she eating when she started getting sick?” The doctor looked at our table. “You’ll need to have it tested. The police will want to bag all the evidence.”

  “They’ll be here in a minute.” Rafe lifted his phone. “I called them as soon as I heard what Lucas said about poisoning. Figured they’d want to get here while the scene was fresh.”

  “Good thinking.” The doctor nodded.

  As predicted, two uniformed policemen and one man in a suit who I presumed was a detective arrived within soon after. They questioned us all briefly and took the bowl of chili that Trina had been eating.

  “Who ordered what?” The plainclothes detective looked around at us. “Was the chili specifically requested by Ms. Wilson?”

  It was Crissy who answered, her voice shaky. “Usually we just order a bunch of food and share it. But Trina and I both love the chili here, so we always order two bowls of that. One with beans, for Trina, and one without, for me.”

  “And which bowl did she eat tonight?”

  Crissy shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I didn’t eat mine, because one of my fans came out right after the food was delivered. I ended up talking to her, and then after she went back inside, I just nibbled on some fries while I chatted with my friends here.”

  One of the uniformed cops picked up a spoon and poked at the uneaten bowl of chili. “This one’s got beans.”

  Crissy covered her face with her hands. “God. What’s happening? Who would want to do this to me?”

  The detective looked grim. “That’s something we need to figure out.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’ll need to link up with my counterparts in Palm Dunes, and since this looks like a crime that’s crossed district lines, we’ll probably have to bring in the state.” He pinned each of us with a stare. “Make sure we have your contact information.”

  “How could this have happened at the Riptide?” Crissy was anguished. “I’ve been playing this place as long as they’ve had live music. No one here hates me.”

  “We talked to the kitchen staff and the servers, as well as the night manager. The owner came over, too. Everyone checks out. They’re just kids in the kitchen, and they’re terrified. Wait staff’s all been here for years. Same with the manager.”

  “So it’s got to be someone from outside.” Crissy frowned. “I thought when Maddy . . . it was just some sick, crazy person, and no one was targeting anyone. But this means it’s me. Someone hates me enough to make me want to die—like that.” She swallowed hard.

  “You can’t think of anyone who hates you? Any other, ah, singers or whatever who might be jealous?”

  “Absolutely not.” Crissy shook her head. “I know a few other performers, but we’re not like that. Everyone supports each other. We’re happy for our successes.”

  “Still, I’d like a list of names, just to be thorough.”

  It was another hour before we were allowed to leave. Lucas and I walked toward our car with Rafe and Nell.

  “I’m sorry this evening turned out to be an attempted-murder.” Lucas tightened his grip on my hand as he spoke to Rafe.

  “Hey, never a dull moment with you two. And how could you have known? You’re not a seer or a mind hearer.”

  “No.” Lucas was silent for a minute, his mouth set in a grim line, and I remembered his reaction when we’d been introduced to Dell.

  “What did you see with Dell? You reacted. I felt it.”

  Lucas cast his eyes down to me. “Yeah, I know.” He sighed. “I heard his number. His death age. And it was lower than I’d have expected.”

  Rafe and Nell exchanged glances. They knew, as I did, that part of being a death broker meant hearing the death age or the time left of nearly every person Lucas met. The numbers he heard varied; sometimes it was the exact age of their death, and sometimes it was how long they had left. He was often able to block the knowledge, and if the person had any type of extraordinary gift, he didn’t hear the information. He also didn’t hear my number, though we weren’t sure exactly why that was the case.

  “What about Trina?” Rafe hooked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “What was her number?”

  “Much higher than what her age is now. So I wasn’t completely worried, even when she was poisoned.”

  “But maybe someone needs to warn Dell.” Rafe stopped behind his vintage Impala. “If it looks like he’s the next one in danger, and you know it . . .” His voice trailed off, but we all knew what he meant.

  “How can I do that? Just call up Crissy and say, ‘Hey, not to sound weird or anything, but your guitarist is probably next on the kill list. Tell him to watch his steps.’” Lucas blew out a long breath. “She’d think I was insane or worse, that I was the one behind the poisonings.”

  “I imagine the police are going to warn everyone involved with Crissy to be vigilant.” Nell spoke matter-of-factly. “Two of her known associates have been targeted, or at the very least, have been collateral damage in someone’s quest to kill Crissy. They’ll all be told to be more careful. Probably advised not to eat anything that they don’t make themselves.”

  “Nell’s right.” I nodded. “And even if you did warn Dell, there’s no guarantee he’d . . . well, the numbers are pretty much set in stone, aren’t they?”

  “I’ve never tried to save anyone whose number is—uh, coming up, not to sound flippant. I’d have to find out how old Dell is now to be sure how close the end is. Would’ve been nice if I’d heard the time left instead of his death age. Gotta love having a gift you can’t control.”

  “I hear you, man.” Rafe sounded resigned “All we can do is keep our eyes open and hope for the best at this point. Let us know if there’s anything we can do on our end.”

  “Are you driving all the way back to Carruthers tonight?” Harper Creek, the Institute’s headquarters, was at least a three-hour drive from where we were.

  “No, we’ve got a room waiting for us at the hotel we investigated last month. They’ve comped us for all time, apparently.” Rafe opened the passenger door for Nell. “Care to come with us? They’ve probably got a couple of vacancies.”

  “Thanks, but we’ve got a canine kid waiting for us at home.” Lucas laid a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll take a rain check, though.”

  I gave Rafe a quick hug as he rounded the car to the driver’s side. “Thank you ag
ain for listening to me. And talking to me.”

  “Any time, gorgeous.” He smirked, shooting a teasing glance at Lucas. “You know, if I wasn’t crazy in love with the witch in the car, I’d persuade you to ditch the death broker and run off with me. End of the world or not.”

  “Hey, hey. Get moving, buddy. This one’s taken. Go on, get out of here and go save the world.” His smile faded a little. “I’ll be up in a few weeks for the next meeting.”

  “See you then, man. Safe travels.” He walked backward a few steps, and with his fingers on the door handle, sketched a salute in our direction. “And hey, watch what you eat. It’d be pretty ironic if the death broker was poisoned.”

  “I WANT TO talk with you about what happened with Delia.”

  We were speeding down the highway through the dark, taking the shorter route back to Palm Dunes now that the sun had set. For the first fifteen minutes of the ride, neither of us spoke beyond the small necessities of regulating the car’s temperature and finding the right radio station. But I knew I had to talk to Lucas now, tonight, or I’d chicken out.

  When I spoke into the dimly-lit interior of the car, I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes on the road in front of us.

  “Okay.” There was no judgment there, no expectation.

  “When Delia took over, it was scary. I felt like I was going to die. I told you that. She came in, and it was like someone was climbing into a dress I was already wearing. Only instead of the dress ripping, she just . . . pushed me deeper. Down far, so far that I couldn’t breathe or think or even exist anymore. I ceased to be for that space of time.”

  Lucas didn’t say anything, but his hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “And I thought that was bad, but then awareness started to come back. And that was even worse. Because as I came back, it meant I was pushing Delia out since the two of us could not fit in my body. But doing that felt wrong. She was holding on with everything she had, trying to fight you from removing her and fighting me from taking over again. She . . . she screamed, Lucas, and it was the most horrific thing I’ve ever heard. She begged me not to make her go. She said she didn’t want to go back. When she was torn away, it felt like she scraped off a piece of my soul.”