For a few Dumplings More

by Leena Clover

  Dad gave it some thought.

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  “I can run it by Motee Ba and see what she says.”

  “You do that Meera. And let me get some work done now.”

  “On one condition,” I warned.

  Dad looked up wearily.

  “You have to treat it as a date. You will dress up well. Pajamas not allowed.”

  “Okay, we’ll see,” Dad muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his face.

  He waved me off, his head already plunged in a thick sheaf of paper.

  Unlike Napolean, I knew when to retreat gracefully. I patted myself for a job well done and walked out of Dad’s room.

  Chapter 17

  Monday morning was dark and windy but I was upbeat. I tucked into a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, eggs and toast and headed to work. The plan was to head over to Henry’s in the evening with Tony. I would discuss it with him during lunch.

  Henry Thompson disrupted my plans and took over my lunch hour. I had just signed into my workstation and started scanning students in when a snotty undergrad walked into the library. She looked around as if trying to spot someone. She came over to my desk and held out an envelope.

  “Meera Patel?” she said a bit too loudly.

  I nodded.

  “Professor Thompson sent this for you.”

  She gave me a smirk, as if believing she had got me into some kind of trouble and stalked off.

  I tore open the packet.

  ‘Come to my office at noon. I’ll feed you lunch.’

  The missive was short and to the point. I called Tony and told him about the change of plans.

  “What do you think she wants?” he asked.

  I shrugged, then said it out loud.

  “We’ll know soon enough.”

  I picked up my bag at 11:45 and freshened up. I started walking to the History department. The skies had cleared up but the wind was bracing. I hadn’t brought my jacket along and I shivered in my thin sweater. I worked up a sweat soon enough and my body felt warm by the time I climbed up to Henry’s office.

  The smell of Chinese food assailed me before I knocked on her door. Takeout containers were lined up on Henry’s desk, along with paper towels and plastic knives and forks. She was laying out the red carpet.

  She paused in the middle of slurping some chicken noodle soup, half the noodles hanging from her mouth. She swallowed hastily as she bade me to sit down.

  “I hope you like Chinese food.”

  My stomach rumbled just then and I picked up the small cup of soup without comment. The greasy yellow broth of Chinese chicken noodle soup looks weird but tastes delicious. I felt better after the soup hit my stomach.

  “So what’s this all about?” I asked, attacking a container of Lo Mein noodles next.

  “Why don’t we eat first?” Henry suggested.

  I detected some fear in her tone. Was she going to make my job easy?

  I ate almost everything and cracked open the fortune cookie. I didn’t have big expectations. The cookie managed to surprise me.

  ‘All will be revealed.’

  If only fortune cookies were accurate. I looked up expectantly at Henry. She looked a bit flushed.

  “Are you okay? Shall I crack the door open a bit?”

  She shook her head. I got up and switched on a pedestal fan. The room had begun to feel close with the heat and the strong odors of the Chinese food. The fan started throwing air around the room and Henry seemed to relax.

  “This might come as a surprise, Meera,” she began.

  I beat her to it.

  “Dot Brown was blackmailing you.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “Does everyone know?”

  “Not really,” I reassured her. “It was just a guess.”

  “Well, she wasn’t exactly blackmailing me.”

  “Then what did she want?”

  “That’s just it, Meera. She didn’t want anything.”

  I sat up in my chair. I had been getting drowsy from all the food but Henry had managed to snap me awake.

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” Henry confirmed.

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

  Henry fidgeted a bit.

  “You don’t have to give away any secrets.”

  Henry was quiet for a moment, then she took a deep breath.

  “It doesn’t matter if you know. Doesn’t matter if anyone knows really. I have finally accepted that. It was all too long ago.”

  I quirked an eyebrow, and she took the hint.

  “I got the first letter around the New Year. It was very unimaginative.”

  “What did it say?” I asked with bated breath.

  Henry pulled open a drawer and took out a piece of paper. It was placed in a zip lock bag but I could still read it through the clear plastic.

  The first thing I noticed was the note paper. It was exactly like the one we had found on Dot’s body, and later in Dot’s house.

  ‘I know what you did. And you say you love your sister. I’m gonna tell!’

  “This doesn’t actually say anything.”

  I handed the paper back to Henry.

  “It’s supposed to mean something to me. And it does.”

  “What did you do when you got this?”

  “I was shocked at first,” Henry admitted. “The letter refers to something that happened decades ago. It has no relevance now. I had no idea why someone would want to rake it up.”

  “Did you tell anyone about it?”

  Henry shook her head.

  “That’s the whole point of having a secret, Meera. You don’t tell people about it.”

  I ignored the jab.

  “So you were shocked. What did you do next?”

  “I expected there would be something more. Another letter. So I just waited for it.”

  “Was there?”

  Henry pulled out another zip lock bag from her drawer.

  “How many of these you got stashed away, Henry?” I asked as I tried to read the second note.

  ‘You think you can get away with what you did? I’m gonna tell! I’m gonna tell everyone, Professor!’

  “More of the same thing,” I observed, giving it back. “What happened after this Henry?”

  “I waited and waited. I expected there would be some kind of demand for money. I moved around some funds. I wanted to be ready.”

  That sounded like what anyone would do in the situation.

  Henry continued. “I was losing my mind, you know. Looking over my shoulder all the time. There was nothing. Then just when I thought someone was just playing a prank, the third note arrived.”

  She pulled out one more packet.

  ‘I’m gonna tell and you can do nothing about it. Your secret will be out and the world will boo. Shame on you, Professor, shame on you.’

  Henry had a pained expression on her face.

  “So one more threat, but no demand for money,” I summed up for her.

  Henry nodded.

  “Who did you think wrote the notes?”

  Henry shivered.

  “At first, I really believed it was a prank. Maybe a disgruntled student, someone angling for a better grade. Then the second note came. That got me thinking. It had to be someone I knew. Knew well.”

  “How did you narrow in on Dot?” I asked. “I presume you did deduce it was her?”

  “I connected the dots,” Henry said simply. “The reference to my sister, the thing about shame…it could only mean one thing.”

  “Something in your past,” I finished.

  “The only person who knew that was Dot. I had to think hard to remember, of course. But one sleepless night, it came to me in a flash. Dot and I used to meet for lunch once a week. We were quite close. I had confided something to her in a burst of emotion.”

  I didn’t want to ask Henry what the secret was. But it had to be something big.r />
  She broke down in front of me. Her sobs escalated and so did my alarm. I pulled some tissues out of a box of Kleenex and handed them to her.

  “It was about Carl,” she sobbed. “Carl was engaged. I fell in love with the guy. We both fell in love with each other, actually. He was taken in by her beauty, but then he was attracted to my bold personality.”

  “You cheated on your sister,” I said flatly. “That’s what the letter refers to.”

  “Not in the way you think. He just fell out of love with her. I tried to force him to marry her. He wouldn’t. He wanted to tie the knot with me. I refused. Carl wouldn’t have handled it.”

  “What happened?”

  “He just left. He said he didn’t want either of us.”

  “What does Carl think?” I sucked in a breath.

  “She thinks he dumped her.”

  “And she never went out with anyone again?”

  Henry shook her head.

  “There’s slim pickings in this town anyway. I encouraged her to go back to London. Then our parents passed and she decided to make her home here.”

  “How do you think she will react if she finds out?”

  Henry’s eyes hardened.

  “I don’t want her to find out. And I’ll do anything for it.”

  Something niggled at the back of my mind. Would Henry actually harm someone for this secret? Far as I was concerned, it was all just water under the bridge. Would Carl care why she got dumped?

  Henry was on a roll. It was like being in a confessional.

  “I went to the WOSCO meeting with one purpose. I was going to confront Dot and ask her about the letters.”

  “Did she own up to it?”

  “I didn’t get a word in,” Henry cried. “She just went on and on about her blasted trip to England.”

  “That’s right. So you knew she was planning to leave. You must have been relieved.”

  “I was.”

  I sensed a ‘but’ coming.

  “It was too late.”

  I steeled myself to hear something drastic. I tried to judge the distance between my chair and the door, mentally planning an escape route. Would Henry try to silence me after she confessed?

  “The moment I saw Dot that day, I snapped. I stuffed myself with those delicious dumplings of yours. I eat when I’m stressed.”

  I tried to be patient.

  “I went into the powder room, unable to control my rage. I spotted a bottle of bleach under the counter and I sprinkled it on the dumpling.”

  “Then you offered that dumpling to Dot,” I finished for her.

  “All this was before Dot said a thing,” Henry moaned. “Then she started talking about going to England. I thought maybe she didn’t write the note after all. Or maybe she was just having some fun.”

  “Did you try to stop her from eating it?”

  Henry nodded miserably.

  “She was clutching it in her hand, talking nonstop. I tried to take it from her, saying I was hungry. But she just led me to the food table and offered me more from the tray.”

  “But you couldn’t take the bad one out of her hands.”

  Henry’s eyes were wide, and there was a slight look of terror in them.

  “How could I have done it, Meera? How could I try to harm another human being? Someone I called a friend?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. I was a bit stunned myself.

  “I don’t think the dumpling had anything to do with Dot’s death.”

  “But I know what I tried to do,” Henry whispered hoarsely. “How can I live with myself now?”

  Another question I couldn’t answer for Henry.

  “Even if Dot had eaten it, it might not have been fatal.”

  Henry refused to be reassured, and I wondered why I was even trying.

  “I can’t keep all this from Stan,” I ventured.

  “You don’t have to. I couldn’t bring myself to say all this to the police. You can explain it better.”

  “He will still want to talk to you.”

  “I’m right here,” Henry said, resolute. “I will answer any questions they have. And I am ready for the consequences.”

  “Have you talked to Carl about this?” I asked gently.

  Henry shook her head.

  “Wasn’t that the whole point? Keeping Carl away from all this nonsense?”

  “I think she’s stronger than you give her credit for. It’s better you tell her yourself.”

  “You have a point,” Henry agreed glumly.

  I walked out of Henry’s office with a huge weight on my shoulders. The ants were coming out of the woodwork. I wondered how many more heavy secrets would be revealed before we found the killer.

  Chapter 18

  “She did what?” Tony cried out.

  Tony and I had decided to meet at Willow Springs Lake. The sun had already set but there was a hint of twilight. Tall lights lit up the path around the lake. The walkers of Swan Creek were out in full swing, decked up in colorful parkas and foul weather gear. It was a balmy 55 degrees but the wind that blew all day was still making its presence felt.

  I told Tony about my meeting with Henry.

  “You can’t keep this to yourself, Meera,” Tony said urgently. “You have to tell Stan.”

  “She knows that. She’s ready for the consequences. Have you asked Fiona out yet?”

  “I was going to look in on her this evening.”

  “Why don’t you go on? I’m going home.”

  Motee Ba had made some quesadillas with pineapple and jalapenos. These are my absolute favorite. I ate a few slices while chatting with Jeet. Sally was nowhere in sight.

  I took the opportunity to bring up Dad’s date.

  “Why don’t we set up something for them right here, in our back yard? No pressure on anyone that way.”

  Motee Ba was all smiles as she hugged me.

  “I wasn’t sure how you would take it.”

  “Leave it all to me,” I said airily. “Just tell me what she likes. We’ll make something simple so they can focus on the talking.”

  “I can string up the paper lanterns and stuff,” Jeet enthused.

  Backyard parties are something we do well. We have boxes of paper lanterns, tiny hurricane lamps, fairy lights and tiki torches. Setting it up would be fun.

  Stan wandered in a few minutes later and I brought him up to speed on Henry. He had difficulty swallowing my story.

  “She said all that? You’re not kidding, are you, Meera?”

  I shook my head.

  “She said all that herself?”

  “Will she go to jail?” I asked.

  I have always liked Henry. I know what she did wasn’t right. Who knows what she would do if left unfettered.

  “It’s not up to me,” Stan said. “I have to report all this.”

  “But nothing happened!” I exclaimed.

  “Taking actions to harm someone is a crime, Meera.”

  This time, Stan did not sound pompous. He left after I had packed a couple of quesadillas for him.

  Tony called an hour later.

  “I met her,” he began.

  I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “It took a while but I finally asked her out. She’s going to look for a baby sitter.”

  “Yay! Don’t forget Motee Ba’s offer.”

  Tony told me some insignificant things about Fiona. Basically, he was just blubbering. He seemed to be smitten alright. I tried to examine how I felt about that. So far, nothing.

  I went into the kitchen to see what was cooking. Sally wasn’t around so we could talk about the menu for Dad’s dinner date.

  “What should I cook?” I asked Motee Ba.

  “You know what your father likes. And your mother seems to cook a lot of Mexican food.”

  “How about my balsamic chicken?” I asked. “I can toss some pasta in a light sauce, make a Caesar salad.”

  “Will your mother like it? She has never made pasta s
ince she got here.”

  “I could make fajitas.”

  Motee Ba didn’t like the idea much.

  “I like the earlier idea. It goes well with wine.”

  Sally walked in just then. She had a bunch of herbs in her hand. She started chopping parsley and cilantro.

  I smelt fish in the air, and I was right. Sally pulled out a pan of salmon steaks from the oven and spooned the herb sauce she had made over them. She pulled out another pan with roasted red potatoes.

  Motee Ba was placing a huge bowl of rice pilaf on the table. I was already planning a shopping trip for everything I needed.

  Dad peeped into my room later.

  “She said yes.”

  He looked like an eager child who just got an unexpected piece of candy.

  “Is tomorrow too soon?”

  “Tomorrow’s perfect,” I smiled.

  Motee Ba went on brushing my hair, trying to hide her smile. We jumped up as soon as we heard the study door close.

  “Get dressed,” we both burst out at the same time.

  Then we giggled like little girls. It had been a while since Motee Ba and I did something fun together.

  Jeet came out of his room as we were heading out.

  “It’s 10 PM. What are you two up to?”

  “Shhhh…” I warned. “Grocery run.”

  “Can I go?”

  “Nope. You have school tomorrow.”

  I drove to the 24/7 supermarket. How lucky are we to be living in this country. I was surprised to see a healthy crowd in the store. Most of them were students. They really have no sense of time.

  “Chicken breasts, romaine, garlic … what else, Meera?”

  “We have most of the pantry ingredients, right? Like anchovies and Worcestershire?”

  Motee Ba wasn’t sure. I dumped everything I could think of in the cart. I added two large loaves of French bread. Ice cream was the last to go in.

  I wheeled the cart toward the fast food counter. A snack break is mandatory when you’re shopping so much.

  We rewarded ourselves with super sized fries and apple pie.

  “Look at me,” Motee Ba said sheepishly. “People will think I’m senile. Or running away from somewhere.”

  I tiptoed around the kitchen after we got home. I grated garlic cloves, plucked some rosemary from the patio and added it all to balsamic vinegar. I dunked the chicken into it and put it in the fridge. A good marinade is the secret to my simple recipe.