2 A Reason for Murder

by Morgana Best

  I was about to comment further but the room revolved slightly. I excused myself again and went to the bathroom. Migraine headaches have this effect on me, but I wasn't getting the typical flashing zigzag lights of a migraine, and I felt quite nauseous. I splashed my face with cold water, and then returned to the table. Something was up; my stomach was churning and cramping and I thought I was about to be sick. I only managed to return to the table with some difficulty.

  "Are you all right? You've gone green."

  "No, I think I'm getting a migraine. I'd better get back to the motel before it gets worse." Without waiting for his reply, I headed for the door, speeding up as I went. I only just made it to the car park when I vomited violently all over the pavement. That brought a slight relief and I managed to drive back to my motel, although my vision was swimming and the headache was pounding.

  By the time I got inside my motel room, I felt like I was going to die. I dropped to my knees inside the door and vomited violently again. I crawled to the bathroom and hoisted myself up over the toilet bowl. After another round of violent vomiting, I stuck my hand through the bathroom wall, into another realm. Perhaps I was dreaming. I thought I was awake. I tried to wash my face but my way was barred by a huge gray cat. It was evil, malevolent, hateful. Waves of pure terror washed over me. The cat did not move, but paralyzed me by some form of psychic attack. I was unable to move or speak.

  The rest of the night was a haze. Sometime in the night I managed to crawl back near the bed and pull a blanket over me. I was freezing but my skin was burning to touch.

  At some point I must have fallen asleep. I awoke on the floor, weak, headachy, and fuzzy, but with the relief that the vomiting seemed to have stopped. My stomach muscles ached; they felt as if I had done thousands of crunches.

  I didn't think I could stand, so crawled on my hands and knees back to the bathroom, pulled myself up at the basin, and poured a glass of water. I managed to get back to the bed with the glass of water and I opened my laptop.

  A search for "food poisoning treatment" brought up a lot of pages. I clicked on the third one down and it said that it was important not to get dehydrated. I was horribly thirsty but the website cautioned only to have a few little sips of water at a time. It also suggested a satchel of electrolytes, but failing that, a sports drink, but said to have it in conjunction with plain water.

  I had a half-emptied bottle of sports drink already on the bedside table, so poured some of it into the glass of water then lay down in bed reminding myself to sip the water every few minutes. It must have been food poisoning, but I wouldn't have thought a vegetarian meal would cause food poisoning. At that I fell asleep.

  The phone call woke me. It was not my iPhone but the motel landline. I answered, but no one was on the line. At any rate I was less groggy and relieved that I was on the mend, although weak.

  A check of my iPhone revealed that it was almost midday. I lay in bed debating whether to lie there longer or venture out to buy some dry, salty crackers. The website had said I needed salt and dry crackers. The thunderous stomach rumblings convinced me. The crackers won. I managed to have a shower and get dressed but I had to move slowly and carefully. I felt awful.

  The car parking area was a cramped affair. I reversed, turned the car a few times, and then ventured out onto the laneway which ran between two major Maitland roads.

  The midday glare was too much for my weakened sensibilities, so I felt around the passenger seat for my sunglasses and found them. Just as I pulled into the lane, I realized I'd left my purse back in the motel room. Shit. I hit reverse, and then rammed the accelerator with a little too much force. Luckily no one was behind me. At that point, a speeding truck appeared from out of nowhere and grazed the front of my car.

  The jolt and the fright did not help my headache. I staggered out of the car and to my dismay saw broken glass. More expense. A broken headlight cover and no doubt a broken light. My car was insured, but I'd have to pay a $500 excess. If only the driver had stopped, or I had been fast enough to get his license plate. I figured the drivers around here must be pretty bad, as that was the second close shave I'd had in as many days, give or take a day or two. Lucky I had reversed when I did, or I would be toast.

  The thought of food turned my stomach again, but that's when it dawned on me. If I hadn't been forgetful, I could have been killed twice. The researcher in me told me that I could only have been killed once. I tried to snap myself out of my digression and bring myself back to the matter at hand. I needed salt and more water, and then I would be able to think. One thing was clear: this was a matter for Alfred.

  "Cat said, 'I am not a friend, and I am not a Servant. I am the Cat who walks by himself, and I wish to come into your Cave.'"

  (Rudyard Kipling, Just-So Stories)

  Chapter Twelve.

  After retrieving my purse, I gingerly edged the car onto the street, but there was no sign of a speeding truck. I headed for a store I had noticed previously only a few blocks away, and purchased five packets of crackers, three packets of headache tablets, two bottles of water and three bottles of sports drink. As an afterthought, I bought a small packet of sea salt.

  Back at the motel, I opened the crackers and poured the salt inside the packet, then swallowed two headache tablets with a glass of diluted sports water. The trembling had stopped. The headache on the other hand was crashing, but whether that was from the food poisoning or the caffeine withdrawal was anyone's guess.

  To be on the safe side, I opened two instant coffee packets, the sort that come with motel rooms, and licked the contents of the wrappers. Instant coffee is against my religion, but this was a health issue. I lay back on the bed, and propped myself up with two pillows. I was starting to feel slightly human again. Then I texted Alfred.

  Was nearly wiped out by 2 vehicles, also severe food poisoning.

  Short and to the point. I licked some salt off one of the crackers, and then ate it slowly in tiny little pieces. I turned on the free-to-air TV with the remote, surfed the channels, found nothing even barely worth watching, so settled back into the pillows to sleep and await Alfred's reply.

  A few months ago when I had been in England, I had met Jamie Smith, a man who worked for an undisclosed government organization. At the same time, I had become the Keeper of an occult society, having inherited the title upon the occasion of my Great Aunt Beth's death. I still had no idea what this entailed, and I had not as yet been contacted by any members of the Society. I had flippantly asked Jamie if he worked for MI6, and he had laughed that off but did not enlighten me.

  It was clear to me Jamie worked for a Torchwood-like government agency minus the aliens and plus the paranormal. A figured it must be something like cross between Secret Agent 86 and Ghostbusters. Jamie had worked with my aunt, although he had not told me in what capacity. In the event of an emergency, Jamie had given me a cell phone number which I was to put in my Contacts as "Alfred" along with instructions never to call Alfred, only to text.

  I was in a state of half sleep when the ringtone alerted me to a sms. I checked my phone. Alfred.

  Send list of symptoms. Send dates, times, locations of vehicle incidents. What are you working on? Send list of names of significant persons. Have you contacted authorities? Had medical help? Stay in motel. Do not answer the door under any circumstances.

  How did they know where I was? My brain was too fogged to figure that out. I felt I should be surprised. And was this Jamie, or the agency for which he worked?

  I formulated my reply. I texted the location, date, and approximate time of when I was nearly knocked over by the car in the main street of Morpeth. Ditto for when I was nearly crushed by the truck in Maitland. I added:

  "Ni authority or medium help. Violent committee, nausea, stomach pins, headscarf, dizziness, Dhaka. Working om article re ghosts in Morpeth, researching treasury in 1840s. Gavin King, Scpty (surname unknown), Daviod Crwaley. Suspicion of man who worn in River Royal botch and seamy 2 work 4 Gsv
ib King."

  I then spent another five minutes correcting all my typos, and changing words that the auto correct had altered. It came out like this:

  "No authorities or medical help. Violent vomiting, nausea, stomach pains, headache, dizziness, visions. Working on article re ghosts in Morpeth, researching treasure in 1840s. Gavin King, Scotty (surname unknown), David Crawley. Suspicious of man who works in River Royal Hotel and seems 2 work 4 Gavin King."

  I pressed Send, and then licked some more coffee out of another packet. This reply was much faster.

  "Overheated? Blurred vision? Hallucinations? Your current state?"

  I texted back, "Yes. Yes. yes. Mich better now. It happens Ist ight."

  Unfortunately I sent that without correcting. The answer again was prompt.

  "Drink fluids slowly. Avoid dehydration. Eat toast or crackers. Send times of eating-drinking and persons present within 1 hour of symptoms onset."

  It hurt to think. I just wanted to sleep. The act of remembering hurt my head, all that reaching through the haze that was my mind. I'd skipped lunch. What had happened next? I'd had dinner with David. Had I eaten anything prior to that? I'd had a lime soda at the hotel, served to me by Fake Ghost Man.

  I wanted to figure out time frames, but my brain did not wish to cooperate. I'd had dinner with David and had gotten sick after I'd eaten one mouthful. It was a short drive to the restaurant from the River Royal, where I'd only had one mouthful of the drink.

  "One mouthful lime soda at River Royal Hotel served by suspicious man who works for Gavin King. About 30 mins later, one mouthful vegetarian meal, with David Crawley. Symptoms 5 minutes later."

  That was typed very slowly.

  No reply. I waited ten or so minutes, staring at the phone, then propped myself up in the bed with my laptop, and googled poisons. My first hit was the U.S. Food and Drug Administration website which had a helpful table entitled, "Onset, duration, and symptoms of foodborne illness."

  I didn't have an unusual taste in my mouth or a burning feeling, so that ruled out metallic salts. Besides, I'd read all Agatha Christie's books and watched every episode of Miss Marple, so I was quite au fait with the effects of metallic salts poisoning.

  Nitrate poisoning didn't sound quite right, although the symptoms included dyspnea, whatever that was. I opened another tab and discovered that dyspnea referred to shortness of breath. I hadn't experienced that. By the time I got to yessotoxin on the bottom of the page, I was cringing. The lists of symptoms were fairly gross.

  It was only then in my highly confused fog that I realized I had been poisoned, deliberately. Disorientation was a symptom of Amnesic Shellfish Poisoning. I noted that, found it irrelevant, then tried to concentrate. Perhaps I'd been given a recreational drug, although why anyone would consider violent vomiting and seeing a giant, gray, aggressive cat the size of a Labrador as recreational was beyond me.

  Back to the FDA website table. "Alfred" had said "one hour." The table was helpful. Poisons with an onset of one hour were metallic salts - ruled out - plus shellfish toxin, organic phosphate, muscaria-type mushrooms, tetradon toxins, paralytic shellfish poisoning, and an allergic reaction to histamine, monosodium glutamate, nicotinic acid. I ruled out allergic reactions in the context of deliberate poisoning.

  The "minuet" sms tone again, and a reply from Alfred.

  "Probable amphetamine or methylphenidate overdose, likely intended to be fatal given yr small consumption and vehicle incidents."

  I'd pretty much come to the same conclusion, but I felt too weak to be horribly concerned. I ate half a cracker in one go and googled "amphetamine overdose symptoms," and then promptly fell asleep.

  The laptop falling to the floor startled me awake. I retrieved it and checked it, and to my relief it appeared none the worse for wear although the mouse took a while to get going. I always have a mouse plugged into my laptop. I couldn't remember if I'd read about amphetamine symptoms or not. I googled "methylphenidate." Turns out it was just a long name for Ritalin. I didn't know that. I did have some of the symptoms, according to the first website I read.

  A Ritalin overdose is potentially extremely dangerous and often fatal. The symptoms of a Ritalin overdose are varied and include vomiting, nausea, confusion, abdominal cramps, depression, diarrhea, fatigue, irregular heart rate, hallucinations, high fever, high blood pressure or low blood pressure, tremor, panic, rapid breathing, restlessness, convulsions or coma, while additional symptoms have been reported in the scientific literature.

  I lay back in bed and tried to marshal my thoughts and force my brain to work. Someone was trying to kill me. Anyone who has access to a child with ADHD could get their hands on Ritalin. That didn't help. A pity someone hadn't poisoned me with thallium. That would have been easier to track down. Hmm, I knew something was slightly wrong with that line of thinking, but couldn't quite make it out.

  Who did I suspect? The Fake Ghost Man had served me a drink. In fact, he had left the bar for few moments to get a bottle of lime. That's opportunity. What about motive? He had overheard me agreeing that Gavin King's photographs were faked. Gavin himself had told me that he had a big book deal in the works, and was worried that my article would be an exposé. But he wasn't Stephen King. I doubted any advance would be hefty, much less pay his mortgage. If then Gavin didn't have much of a motive, surely Fake Ghost Man, whom I assumed to be Gavin's assistant, would have even less of a motive.

  My next suspect was David Crawley. He also had opportunity. I was in the bathroom when my food arrived at the table. What about motive? He had caught me snooping around his house, but that's hardly a motive for murder.

  Then there was Scotty. He was sitting opposite me when I had the mouthful of lime soda. Had I left it unattended? No. Wait, yes I had. I had bent down and looked through my bag for a pen and notepad. That would have provided an opportunity for Scotty to spike my drink. Motive? No clue.

  David was the only one who could have planned the Ritalin in advance. However, if Scotty or Suspected Fake Ghost Man had a close relative with ADHD, it is conceivable that they had Ritalin on their person. Still, that seemed quite a stretch. Suspected Fake Ghost Man could have found out that I was looking for Scotty at the River Royal and so had the drug waiting for me.

  I wasn't getting anywhere, and didn't know what to do next, when Alfred decided for me.

  "As soon as you are well enough to drive, leave. Return home. Do not get out of your car until you arrive. Only go in daylight. Keep to main roads and do not take shortcuts. Will advise."

  "The Naming of cats is a difficult matter;

  It isn't just one of your holiday games.

  You may think at first, I'm as mad as a hatter

  When I tell you a cat must have three different names."

  (T. S. Eliot, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats)

  Chapter Thirteen.

  I arrived home just after dark. I had asked Melissa to use her key to my cottage to bring Diva back and leave her in the house on her way home from work. I told Melissa I would be tired when I arrived home and wanted to go straight to bed, so it would be good if Diva was already there. Thankfully, Melissa thought it was a good idea.

  Diva was highly offended that I’d been away, and turned her head away from me when I called her. When I put even more food in her bowl, she simply glared at me before eating it. There wasn't so much as a purr. I was in big trouble.

  I gave up trying to apologize to Diva and turned my attention to burning frankincense, myrrh, and dragon's blood as a protection incense. I hasten to add that dragon's blood is a red resin which grows in Indonesia among other places; no dragons were harmed in the making of the incense. I'm a vegetarian after all.

  I then smudged my house with white sage, being careful to get the sage right into all the corners. After that, I used the last of my air spray. I had lemongrass mixed with rose oil, vanilla, jasmine oil, and lavender oil in a spray bottle of water, and I sprayed the whole house.

  I followed th
is with going around the house, again making sure I got into the corners and close to the wall, with my Tibetan singing bowl. The house felt awesome, better than I did. I still felt quite weak. That was a good space cleaning - fire, earth, air, water, and sound.

  Now to deal with my unseen enemy. I consulted Catherine Yronwode’s Hoodoo book and found that a mixture of dill and salt sprinkled around the house will reverse jinxes. I dutifully mixed dill and sea salt and sprinkled it all over the house. White clover flowers also protect from evil and bring an end to crossed conditions, so I took some of those out of a bottle too and sprinkled them around.

  I then searched through the Drafts folder on my email which serves as a Book of Shadows of sorts, and found some reversal spells.

  The Hoodoo book said that dried nettle was a strong jinx breaker, so I made a note to pick some tomorrow and dry it. I had some in the yard, which I'd found to my discomfort when I'd gone to call Diva inside the other week.

  Then I went to my dried herbs and selected some lemongrass and bergamot mint and made a cold water brew.

  I added some dried rue to my homemade bath salts mixture which had sea salt, Epsom salts, dill, hyssop, and sandalwood. I poured some of the lemongrass and bergamot brew into the bath.

  The bath was heavenly and a very pretty shade of pale green. I looked at the time. 7:24 p.m. Oh no. The X Factor started at 7.35, and it was elimination night. No time to linger in the bath as well as do a reversal spell and catch the X Factor. I thought my favorite singer was in danger of being eliminated tonight.

  With no thought as to my priorities being somewhat twisted, I hopped out of the bath and headed to the little room next to my bedroom.

  I gathered my bits of paper with the spells written them on, and black candle, checked that I had everything I needed, and then cast a circle. I smudged the candle I was about to use, consecrated it and charged it for reversal. I cut off its bottom end and pulled the wick through so I could turn it upside down.