Murder Under the Tree (2 page)

I extended my hand to her. She gave my hand a perfunctory shake, one of a dead fish. Then shot me a look of loathing. “Les had a peanut allergy.”

I frowned. If Nancy knew that, why didn't she run to get epinephrine?

“Everyone knew Les was allergic to peanuts,” Anne Niven, Sarah's friend, the mystery writer said, coming up to us. “All of the staff and all the residents knew. Everyone.”

I smiled at Anne. “Thank you, Anne.”

“Anne, we're trying to clear the room,” Nancy said in a dismissive voice. “Please move on.”

Deirdre looked over at me, with a slight lift of her eyebrows. Anne looked carefully at all those present and then left with Sarah and Deirdre.

“There could have been peanuts in the tea sandwiches or baked goods. Isn't epinephrine kept in an emergency kit in the kitchen or dining room?”

“Yes. It would be in both,” Nancy said, looking over at me, then Dr. Lee.

A girl who worked in the kitchen heard me mention the epinephrine, came over and said, “When Les was on the ground, I checked, the epi-pens were missing from the kit.”

Nancy made no attempt to respond to the girl. “Our kitchen staff made the sandwiches. The pastries were supplied by Sweet Marissa's Patisserie.”

Ah, Sweet Marissa’s Patisserie...no wonder they looked so delicious.

Nancy continued. “We are quite aware of resident allergies and
never
allow peanut products in any of our foods. We don't even have any in the kitchen.”

She looked over at Dr. Lee again and smiled. I never saw a smile vanish so fast when she turned back to me. So if it was Les' peanut allergy, she's saying it wasn't from their kitchen.

“We'll have to wait for the autopsy report to learn the cause of death. No use speculating,” Dr. Lee said.

The people in the kitchen started clearing the tables. I could just make out the sound of sirens outside. “Nancy, the food and dishes on Les' table should be kept the way they are,” I said. “For the police. I'm sure they'll want to see them.”

Nancy made an exasperated sound. “I need to get back to my office. Start a report. I'll talk to you later, Dr. Lee.”

I looked at Dr. Lee. I must have had a surprised look on my face because after she left the room he said, “You'll have to excuse Nancy. She gets irritated when someone tells her what to do, especially someone she doesn't know.” I didn't say anything. “Really...her bark is worse than her bite.”

What a cliché. “She should be taking charge. Who's responsibility is it to check the epi-pens?”

“I suppose Celine Winterberg, the staff registered nurse.”

“And someone needs to package the food up, so it can be analyzed.”

“I'll talk to the kitchen staff and make sure they take care of it.”

Deirdre poked her head back into the room. “Are you almost done here, Kay?” 

I looked towards the door. Chief of Police Stephen Kirk trotted into the room, past Deirdre, and came right over to me. I had gotten to know him last month during the ginseng conspiracy case. Deirdre soon joined us.

“What’s happened here, Kay?” he asked, looking between Dr. Lee and me. Kirk had a perpetual sheen of sweat on his forehead.

After I told Chief Kirk all that had transpired and about Les' allergy, Dr. Lee took over. I went back to my table to retrieve my purse. I turned around before I left the dining room and saw Chief Kirk talking to the remaining two men Les had been sitting with. Deirdre and I went into the lobby to say goodbye to Sarah, who looked visibly upset.

“I'm so sorry, Kay,” she said. “Les sure will be missed around here. He was going to leave us after the holidays anyway, it’s true, but this is so sad. He had gotten a better job in the Cities.”

Sudbury Falls, our picture postcard little town with its ever-decreasing population, now 10,217 was two hours east of the Twin Cities.

“I'm sorry also, Sarah.” I gave her a hug. I felt something brush against my back. It was Viktor heading in the direction of the dining room.

I frowned and followed Viktor with my eyes. Why was he heading back into the dining room in such a rush?

* * * *

We exited the facility when the ambulance pulled up. Large, feathery flakes of snow fell as we made our way over to Deirdre's car. “Well, that was horrible,” I said.

“I know. Do you think it was his food allergy?”

“I don't know what to think. I didn't notice any nuts in the food. Did you?”

“No, but I'm sure there were different sweets and sandwiches at all the tables.”

I helped Deirdre clear the snow off the windows. “Phil and I have to pick out our Christmas tree later this afternoon. I'm sure not in the holiday mood, but we have the party tomorrow night.”

We got into the car. “You'll feel better once you get home. Wrap up in a warm blanket with some hot chocolate. Do your relaxation exercises. I'm going to meditate.”

I looked at Deirdre and smiled. “More like a glass or two of wine.”

Deirdre turned the corner in the direction where the ambulance had come from. “I didn't get a chance to eat anything. How about stopping in at Marissa's for a bite before going home?” Deirdre asked.

“No. I don't think so. I should get home...well...maybe. It might do me some good.”

“The Ginseng Capital of the World” sign over Main Street was outlined in twinkling white lights. All of the downtown businesses had lighted trees in front of them. Deirdre pulled into a parking spot in front of the patisserie. A large wreath hung above the garland that bordered the door. I looked at Marissa's window display of her luscious pastries. It rendered anyone who walked by helpless.

Sweet Marissa's Patisserie was my “home away from home.” I loved coming here with Deirdre and our friend Elizabeth once or twice a week to sample the shockingly rich pastries. The patisserie came with risks though...to my waistline. Being tall, about five feet nine inches, I had the kind of curvaceous figure that was yearned for in the Renaissance times.

When Deirdre got out of the car, she automatically glanced down four storefronts to where her new holistic herbal shop, Planetary Herbals, would be opening on the Spring Equinox. She planned to give the shop a New Age feel and hoped to add a small tearoom in the future putting a different spin on hers than Marissa's. Tea leaf readings, casting horoscopes, and tarot cards. I wondered if all that stuff would be accepted in Sudbury Falls. At least the tea room sounded promising.

Marissa smiled and greeted us when we came in. “Hello, Kay, Deirdre. You just missed Elizabeth and John by about fifteen minutes.”

Elizabeth was the third in our close trio of friends. The temperatures had become too cold to speed-walk in the morning these past couple of weeks. That, plus her new preoccupation, John, meant we didn't see her as often as we had.

“Sit wherever you like,” Marissa said over her shoulder. “I'll be right with you.”

Several white linen-covered tables took up the main floor area in each of the patisserie's three dining rooms. The rooms held gorgeous Christmas trees with red ribbons and vintage glass ornaments. Leather sofas and chairs gathered in front of the stone fireplaces, their mantles surrounded in garland. From the tin paneled ceilings hung antique crystal chandeliers. Deirdre, Elizabeth, and I always chose the furthest dining room. We headed over to the sofa in front of the fireplace, comforted by its warmth.

Marissa walked into the room. Her blonde hair in a French braid, she wore a white apron over her forest green jumper. She had to be in her late thirties. She carried a plate holding four macarons on it. “Sorry about that. You two look beat. What's up?” We always let Marissa use us to try out her latest recipes. I wasn't sure I could give Marissa an honest opinion today. My palate felt numb.

“Thanks. We came from the Christmas tea at Hawthorne Hills,” Deirdre started. Marissa gave us a look of puzzlement.

After we gave Marissa a blow by blow account of what had happened at Hawthorne Hills, her immediate response was, “Oh, no. I hope he didn't eat anything with peanuts. He was deadly allergic.”

“You knew that?” I asked.

“Sure. You don't keep something like that a secret. I always watched out for his allergy when Les came in. I do use them in some of my food, but I took extra care with what I made for the Christmas Tea. I'm always careful with food allergies.”

Hmm. No nuts used by the patisserie either at the tea.

“So what can I get you?”

I wondered if they had valium or xanax on the menu. “Oh...the fudge truffle cheesecake and the Scottish afternoon tea,” I said.

“Same here,” said Deirdre.

Marissa's bakery assistant came into the room. “Marissa, there's a call for you. It's the police.”

“Okay, tell them I'll be right there,” Marissa said. The assistant left the room. “I wonder what that's about? Here are some raspberry macarons until I get back with your order.” She started walking away, then turned around with a smile. “On the house.”

“Thanks, Marissa,” we both said, smiling back.

I tried to focus on something other than what had just happened at Hawthorne Hills. I felt unnerved about the entire situation. There was a lot going on this week and I couldn't dwell on Les. I bit into the macaron. The cookies enclosed a whipped raspberry cream that concealed a raspberry compote.

“Are we still on for painting my shop after Christmas?”

I paused for a couple of seconds. The last thing I wanted to do this week was paint. “Deirdre, I'm not sure how I am going to get through the night, picking out our Christmas tree with Phil, let alone plan for later in the week. I can't think that far ahead right now. Can we talk about this after Christmas?”

“I'm anxious to get started. I'm going with the saffron color I showed you.”

“The color's beautiful. Nice and warm—”

Deirdre looked into the fire. “Like a slow fire giving its extra energy to the earth.”

I tried to not raised my eyebrows, but some things are involuntary. Colors were important to Deirdre. She was into feng shui. Her entire home was arranged according to its principles for improving positive energy flow. She had told me that certain colors brought about a power balance to an area.

“We can hardly move in our sunroom at home,” she continued. “I've been making more wreaths for the shop. After the painting is done, I'd love to start moving things over to the shop.”

Deirdre was an organic gardener. During the growing season, she had large, raised flower gardens, vegetable, and herb beds in her huge backyard. Her sunroom was filled with baskets of dried herbs and flowers she used for making wreaths, satchets, salves, and poultices. She planned a large and varied inventory for her new shop. An ambitious project.

“You can use our minivan to move your stock,” I offered, finishing the last of my macaron. “We'll take out the seats.” Here I just said I didn't want to talk about painting Deirdre's shop and I'm going along with Deirdre. Oh well...what are friends for?

Marissa came over with our tea and cheesecake. “That was Chief Kirk on the phone. He said some guy came up with the crazy notion that Les was murdered. He wanted to know exactly which foods the patisserie provided for the tea.”

My mouth fell open. “Murdered?” I repeated.

“Kirk laughed and said, 'What? In Sudbury Falls?' He's probably just covering all the bases. Anyway, are you both ready for Christmas?”

“No,” Deirdre said. “I still have some shopping to do.”

“I'm pretty much done. We're picking out our tree later today,” I said, pouring our tea. “Andrew and Will will be home Tuesday or Wednesday. I want everything done by then.”

“Tuesday evening is Elizabeth's Christmas party.”

After spooning in two sugars, I cradled the warm cup of tea in my hands. “Elizabeth said if they were home, they should come as well. My guess is that they'll have plans with their friends that night.” I took a sip of the tea.

The chimes on the door sounded. “Enjoy!” Marissa left.

“Kay, how about going shopping tomorrow?” Deirdre asked. “It would be fun to see the windows displays. I could use your help picking out a few gifts for Mike.”

I helped myself to more sugar and tasted it again.
Murdered?
I sat back for a few moments thinking about what Marissa had just told us.

“Kay? Do you want to go shopping?”

“Sure, I could go in the morning. I should have enough time in the afternoon to get ready for the party. Maybe Elizabeth will want to go.”

* * * *

It was getting dark when we started for home. Christmas lights sparkled on the trees of the boulevards, traced the roof lines, and wound around the porches and bushes of the homes. We both looked over at Ted's house when Deirdre pulled up to my driveway. A SOLD sign hung from the realtor's sign.

“A melancholy aura hangs over that house,” Deirdre said. “I hope the new owner brings a positive energy to cleanse it.”

Ted's house gave me the creeps. Ted Michaels was one of the six ginseng conspirators that I helped send to prison a couple of month ago. He and his associates in crime had perpetrated a series of murders in order to coverup a profitable but illegal ginseng operation in the area. I, too, hoped someone nice moved into the neighborhood.

I started walking up our long driveway and listened to the crunching of the snow in the stillness of the evening. Thinking of Ted's house, I felt the willies, but tried to focus on ours.
Stay focused.
Tiny white lights sparkled on our bushes and garland that graced our front door. Phil had been busy while I was gone. Some guy came up with the crazy notion that Les was murdered, Marissa had said. Murder.
Stay focused.
A large wreath rested above the front door. Five ice luminarias led the way up to our front porch. Candles burned in every window. Before entering, I glanced again at Ted's house. All darkness.