Ladle to the Grave (A Soup Lover's Mystery Book 4) (18 page)

L
UCKY TOSSED HER
purse under the desk in the office and hung her jacket on a hook. She walked down the corridor and grabbed a fresh apron from the closet, tying it around her waist. She felt as if she hadn’t slept well, even though she’d been unconscious for a full eight hours. In her dreams she remembered hearing the engine of a truck revving but when she tried to find the source of the noise, there was nothing there.

“Hey, Lucky,” Sophie called out when she heard Lucky’s footsteps in the corridor.

Lucky peeked around the doorway of the kitchen. Sage was scooping chopped vegetables into a large pot and Sophie was clearing off his worktable.

“Hi, guys. What’s on the menu today?”

Sage looked up. “I’m doing an onion soup today, and something kind of different—watercress and pear. What do you think?”

“Sounds very different.”

“I thought it might be a good choice for a spring soup. I’m trying to decide on a couple of others. I can do the potato kale again—I know you like that one—and then maybe a sausage and pasta stew or. . . . How about a chicken pot pie soup with dumplings?”

“Mmm. That sounds great, so comforting, chicken pot pie with dumplings. Great range of choices,” Lucky replied as she joined them at the tall butcher block and pulled up a stool.

“Okay, I’ll do that one today, then.”

“Save me a big bowl.”

“Isn’t he brilliant?” Sophie grinned from ear to ear as she turned to Lucky.

“I think he is,” Lucky replied seriously.

Sage whacked Sophie’s arm gently with a dish towel. “Stop that. I’ll get a big head.”

Sophie laughed in response. “Just kidding. Don’t be so serious.”

Sage looked across the worktable at Lucky. “Sophie told me about Brenda and what she had to say last night. I don’t like this one bit.”

“Me neither,” Lucky offered. “No way to prove it but it looks like real down-and-dirty intimidation to me.”

“The more I mull this over,” Sage said, angrily slamming his knife into the worktable as he chopped, “the more I really don’t want Sophie going back there.”

“To the Resort?”

Sage nodded.

“Hey.” Sophie reached over to touch his shoulder. “I know you worry about me but I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of those goons.”

“One goon. At least from what I’ve heard. And I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do to him if he even says one word to you. If he even looks at you or breathes funny around you. Around either of you,” he said, indicating both Sophie and Lucky. “In fact, I may not even wait for him to make a move. Maybe I’ll just have a word with him now.”

“Better you don’t, Sage,” Lucky said. “We don’t know anything for a fact yet. There could be a reasonable explanation for everything. We only have suspicions, and you might be escalating a situation that could hurt Sophie.”

“Look, I really don’t give a damn about the Resort or how much overtime or not they pay. That doesn’t affect Sophie anyway. But I don’t like their making remarks about how she’s gonna come around. What the hell does that mean?”

“I agree with you,” Lucky said. “But, and I’m just playing devil’s advocate here, Brenda didn’t hear the whole conversation, only bits and pieces. And it was thirdhand. It could be put in an entirely different context if she had heard the whole conversation.”

Sage took a deep breath and struggled to calm down.

Lucky continued. “Besides, she’s willing to sell the land they want. They made her a great offer. She just can’t do anything about her brother’s stubbornness.”

Sage looked up, a dark glint in his eye. “Somebody killed Rick’s partner. Did that happen because they thought he was Rick Colgan? Think about this—if Rick were out of the picture and, God forbid, if anything were to happen to Sophie, they could pick up that land for pennies on the dollar.” He shook his head and moved a pile of chopped vegetables to the side with his large bladed knife. “All I’m sayin’ is . . . be careful. And next time you want to visit a strange house, please, please take me with you. I just don’t feel like anything is safe right now.”

“Good point. And you might be right,” Lucky offered.

Sophie had remained quiet during this exchange. She reached over and squeezed Sage’s arm in sympathy.

Lucky turned and peeked through the hatch into the front room. “Is Jack in yet?”

“He called a little while ago. Said he wasn’t coming in today.” Sage hesitated. “He’s not doing well, is he?”

Lucky sighed. “He’s a little better, I think. I can understand he’s upset, but I’d feel better if he was here with us. I’ll give him a call later.” The morning before, Jack had felt groggy from the medication and had made his apologies. Lucky urged him to stay home and not come back to work until he felt better. She turned to Sophie. “I think I should talk to Nate about those photos we were looking at.”

“Photos?” Sage asked.

“I told you,” Sophie said. “The ones Lucky found in her mother’s attic. All those blurry photos of the Warners.”

“Oh, right. I remember now.”

“Maybe I’m crazy.” Lucky leaned over the worktable. “But whatever was in that wine, or whoever tampered with the basket before or after Cecily picked it up, wasn’t just making a mistake. Someone in that group must have known Agnes would be the first to drink. I think whatever happened was deliberate.”

“That’s assuming something bad was in the wine, isn’t it?” Sage replied.

“Yes,” Lucky grudgingly admitted. “That’s true. They don’t have a result yet. But if that’s what happened, wouldn’t it have had to be someone who was part of the plan, someone who was part of the library group?”

“But how would they know Agnes had a heart condition?” Sophie asked.

“They might not have known that. Maybe whatever was in that drink was enough to take out an army. Agnes had an immediate reaction. And maybe if she hadn’t had an immediate reaction, whatever it was might have killed her eventually, just a bit more slowly. I think somebody tampered with it, but how, I can’t figure out. Jack harvested the herbs; Cecily picked up the basket and brought it to Cordelia’s house. No one could have touched it other than Cecily or Cordelia.”

“What does Cordelia have to say?”

“I haven’t talked to her—yet. But I intend to.”

Sophie shuddered. “Leave me out of that!”

“What about the other women?” Sage asked. “Do you know who they are?”

“Besides Cordelia and Agnes, there was Emily from the library, Cecily and Greta, and two other women: one from Snowflake, who lives up in Lincoln Heights, and one from Lincoln Falls. Emily was certain that none of them had any prior connection with Agnes. She seemed fairly certain none of them had even met Agnes prior to this women’s group forming. Although she did mention there was some . . . coldness, she said . . . between Agnes and the woman from Lincoln Heights. I do want to talk to Cordelia, though. You never know what you’ll find out if you push hard enough.” Lucky slid off her stool. “I better get busy before we open. And I do think I should talk to Nate about those photos. He’ll probably laugh at me, but I think they’re significant.”

“If you’re going to see him this afternoon, I’ll go with you. Maybe if we both show up, it’ll make more of an impression,” Sophie said.

“Good idea. I’ll zip home and grab those photos before we go.”

L
UCKY AND
S
OPHIE
sat on the hard oak bench against the wall of the waiting room, hoping that Nate would be available soon. Lucky held the envelope containing her mother’s photos close to her chest.

Bradley, Nate’s deputy, glanced at them occasionally, but when Lucky had refused to state her business with Nate, he sniffed audibly and told them Nate was busy with someone in his office and to take a seat.

Finally, they heard a sound, and Lucky leaned forward to catch a glimpse of Nate’s office door. She nudged Sophie. Rick Colgan was leaving Nate’s office. They watched him as he approached the area where they sat. His face was pale and he gave them no notice as he passed by.

“Rick!” Sophie jumped up as her brother passed them. “What are you doing here?’

He shook his head, unable to speak. “Can’t talk now.”

Sophie’s jaw tightened. “Then when?”

Rick walked out the front door and Sophie followed him. Lucky glanced at Nate’s door, but Nate hadn’t come out. She followed Sophie out the front door of the station and watched as Sophie attempted to halt Rick’s progress.

“Why won’t you talk to me, Rick? Why haven’t you returned my phone calls?” she demanded.

“Sophie.” Rick turned to her and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Get off my back. Please. I had to identify my partner’s body a couple of days ago, okay? I had to sign a statement and go over everything with Nate again. Eddie’s dead. I just don’t want any more hassle today.”

Sophie fell silent. “I heard. I’m so sorry, Rick. Does Nate know how he died?”

“Get a grip, will ya. Somebody killed him. Animals didn’t do that to his face. Wolves didn’t remove his wallet. I asked Eddie to have a look at that property. He . . . Never mind. I might as well have sent him to his death.”

“Who would have done that to him?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But I’m not hanging around much longer.” He turned and started to walk away.

Sophie ran a few steps to catch up to him. “Rick!”

“What?” He turned back.

“You say you find people, right?”

“Yeah. What of it?”

“I want you to find our father.” Sophie seemed to be holding her breath.

“What?” Rick laughed bitterly. “What the hell for?”

“Because. Because he’s my father, and yours too, I might add. Because I’m getting married and starting a new life and I want to find him.”

Rick shook his head. “He was a no-good son of a bitch, Sophie. He took off years ago. He didn’t give a damn about us. Why would you want to bring him back into your life now?”

“That isn’t how I remember it.”

Rick’s jaw clenched. “What the hell did you know? You were a baby when he left.”

“But I remember him, Rick. I remember him sometimes, and I missed him. It was awful for mom and you guys after that. You were all older . . .”

“That’s right. We were all older and we remember better. I think you’re in some kind of a fantasy world where you had the perfect dad, except . . . Gee, where is he?” Rick replied sarcastically.

“I have some money. I can pay you. I know you could find him if you’d just try.”

“Sorry, Sis, no can do.” Rick turned on his heel and walked away.

Sophie covered her face with her hands. Lucky walked down the steps of the station and put an arm around her friend’s shoulder.

Sophie took a deep breath and reined in the tears that were threatening to flow. “S’okay. I’ll be okay. Let’s go talk to Nate.”

*   *   *

N
ATE REMOVED
THE
photographs from the envelope. Lucky and Sophie sat silently on the two armchairs in front of Nate’s desk while he slowly examined each of them. He heaved a sigh and looked up. “I don’t know what you want me to make of these. They just look like rejects.”

“Nate, I’m sure my mother had a reason for taking those photos. And she wouldn’t have had them enlarged if they were rejects. She wouldn’t have bothered. You know how she used to like to take photos of the regular customers. But these were segregated from all the others. They were in an envelope, and on the back you’ll see that there are dates on some of them.”

Nate turned the enlargements over and spotted the handwriting. “Okay. I see that. But what does it mean?”

“I don’t know. These photos and these dates were significant to her in some way. I admit, I don’t know how or why, but I do think it’s important.”

Nate looked at her with what she could only interpret as pity in his eyes. “Lucky, I realize Jack is very upset about what happened to that woman. I don’t blame him. If it were me, I’d feel the same way. And—”

“That’s just it, Nate. Jack shouldn’t be feeling the way he’s feeling. I know he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Let me finish, okay?” he continued. “I know you’re reaching for some motive that somebody has for doing Agnes Warner in—”

Lucky interrupted him again. “I’m not reaching.” Her statement came out far more vehemently than she had intended. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be upset with you, but I’m convinced Agnes’s death wasn’t an accident.”

Nate’s eyebrows rose. “You’re saying Agnes Warner’s death was murder. Is that right?”

Lucky nodded.

“Fine. But unless something presents itself to prove that, I have to operate on the assumption that she died of a heart attack and might have been poisoned. Maybe these ladies had no idea what they were brewing and, quite possibly—no, more than likely—it
was
Jack’s mistake.”

Lucky could feel her anger rising. Her face had turned beet red. “I thought you cared about Jack. I thought you considered him a friend!”

“I do.” Nate’s temper flared. “Don’t you go accusing me of not being Jack’s friend. I’m the best friend he has in the world. You know that, Lucky. But I’m the law here and I have to operate accordingly. If the toxicologist does find something, there will probably have to be an inquest.”

“So you’re not going to do a thing about this, are you?” Lucky demanded, pointing at the photos on Nate’s desk.

Sophie touched Lucky’s arm gently to warn her to stay in control.

“I’m sorry, Lucky. This . . .” He indicated the photos spread out in front of him. “This tells me nothing.”

“Fine.” Lucky reached over and snatched the photos off the desk. She shoved them back into the envelope. “Thanks for your time.” She stood and walked out of Nate’s office.

Sophie gave Nate a look that silently asked him to cut Lucky some slack.

Nate leaned forward in his chair. “Uh, Sophie, before you go. I guess you know your brother was just here.”

“I saw him,” Sophie replied noncommittally.

“Any idea what he’s doing in Snowflake?”

Sophie sighed. “He says he came to talk to the people at the Resort about our mother’s land.”

Nate regarded her silently. “And that’s all he’s told you?”

“Yes, that’s all. Why? You think there’s more he’s not saying?”

Nate shrugged. “Just asking.”

“But you suspect there’s more?”

“Seems odd that he and this Fowler guy’d come all this way to talk about land he doesn’t want to sell. Don’t you think? I just thought he might’ve told you more,” Nate replied.

“Yeah, right. I can’t even get a straight answer out of him, much less get him to open up a little. Believe me, you’d stand a much better chance of that than me.”