No Cooperation from the Cat (7 page)

“Easy. Take a deep breath … and another…” I caught Evangeline’s wrist just as she was about to splash more brandy into Jocasta’s glass.

“Keep going—” I gave Evangeline a warning frown. We needed Jocasta coherent and talking. After that, it might be kinder to give her enough to knock her out for a while. “We need to know what happened. Tell us…”

“Yes…” Jocasta hiccoughed. “Yes, I know. Well … I’d helped out a couple of times before, so I knew what I had to do. And … and nothing was any different this time until—”

“Deep breaths,” I reminded her. “Keep going.”

“I met Melisande at the school.” Jocasta gulped and tried to carry on. “I helped her unload the car. She’d brought all her own equipment and ingredients from home. She always did because you couldn’t depend on what might be available at these classes. Some schools had everything necessary on hand, other places had nothing at all because they were regular schools during the day and most of them don’t have cookery courses anymore. It’s only starting to be popular again now that there are so many television chefs. That’s really why Melisande was taking on the extra work. Goodness knows she didn’t need the money—she was hoping to get noticed and perhaps get her own programme—”

“Sip!” Evangeline advised sternly.

“Deep breaths,” I said at the same time.

“Yes—” Jocasta tried to do both at once and had a coughing fit. It took her a moment to recover.

“You unloaded the car—” Martha prompted.

“Yes. It was going to be mushroom quiche. It usually was. Quick and easy, minimum cooking time, and everyone could have a little slice to end the class.”

“And…?” Martha wanted to know.

“And … and … I just don’t understand it. Everything was going on as usual. I sautéed the mushrooms and shallots, while Melisande talked and beat the eggs and cream together, and all that. Then she put it in the oven and gave the rest of her talk while I washed up all the utensils we’d used. The quiche looked great when Melisande took it out of the oven and cut it into little slices. A taste for everyone. There wasn’t enough for me, but I didn’t mind. Truthfully, I was a bit bored with mushroom quiche. It was Melisande’s party piece and she finished up the last slice, while I packed up the pots and pans so that we could leave fast. She was beaming and everyone was crowding round and telling her how delicious it was and what a good talk and asking their last-minute questions. Some just slipped away quietly. It was the same as usual, except…”

“Except?” This time I didn’t try to stop Evangeline from pouring. Jocasta looked as though she could use it.

“Well … Melisande began to get sort of huffy and irritable. She started giving short and sharp answers. Then she snapped at me to hurry up—although I was working as fast as I could. I didn’t want to hang around any more than she did. And it was starting to rain. We both wanted to get out of there—”

“Sip…”

“Breathe…”

“Go on.” Martha was implacable.

“She was breathing hard. And then she said she wanted to go to the loo and she’d meet me back at the car. I … I was relieved because I could get everything packed away much faster without her. And, as long as she stayed, some of the pupils would hang around trying to talk to her … So … so … I got all the equipment into the boxes and began carrying them out to the car. I was on the second trip when one of the students began screaming—”

“Sip…”

“Breathe…”

“Go on.”

“I … I followed the screams. So did the other students. Luckily there were only two or three still around. The screams … the loo … Melisande was lying on the floor. Her … her face … was blue … One of the students dialled nine-nine-nine on her mobile phone … I … I tried to lift Melisande up … to talk to her … I tried. But I really didn’t know what to do. I—I’ve
got
to take a first aid course. I … I felt so … useless—”

The tears came again.

We looked at each other. She wasn’t the only one to feel useless. There was nothing we could do to help or comfort her.

“Presumably, the emergency services arrived quite quickly,” Evangeline said.

“Oh, yes.” Jocasta gulped. “We were right in the centre of town. They took her to the nearest accident and emergency department, but … but … it was too late. Even though they’d put an oxygen mask over— It … it all happened so fast. They’d done everything they could, but…”

“Breathe…” Oops! Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say under the circumstances.

“Sip—gulp!” Evangeline was on surer ground.

Martha said nothing.

“It was awful … so awful.” Jocasta slumped forward, her arms on the table, her head lowering to rest on them. She was just about finished. I felt guilty because there were still questions I wanted to ask.

“What did the autopsy reveal?” Evangeline had no such qualms. “There had to be one—in the event of the sudden death of a perfectly healthy young woman.”

“Oh, there was.” Jocasta raised her head and spoke wearily.

“The police thought mushrooms at first, but everyone there had had a taste of the quiche. Except me—and that made them pay extra attention to me—” She shuddered. “But no one else had had any ill effects, so they had to think again…” She was beginning to fade.

“Although—” With an effort, she forced herself to go on. The memory was obviously very painful. “Although there was still the possibility that there had been just one bad mushroom in the lot—and she’d had the rotten luck to be the one to get it.”

“Mushrooms are always suspect.” Martha gave a professional nod. “Where did she source them?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. They probably weren’t what did it. The … the autopsy … showed anaphylactic shock. It seems she was desperately allergic to nuts. I didn’t know! How was I to know? Edytha said I should have known—but no one ever told me!”

“You gave her some nuts?” Evangeline asked.

“In a mushroom quiche?” Martha frowned.

“Of course not! No one knows how she could have got any. She wouldn’t have gone near them—she knew they were deadly to her. There was a theory that one of the students might have been eating peanuts just before they met her and then shook hands with her. But all the students had scattered and probably wouldn’t even have remembered such a little thing. And they couldn’t test the mushroom quiche to see if it had been tainted in some way—because there wasn’t any left. Everyone had eaten it all.”

“Disposing of the evidence!” Evangeline came dangerously close to licking her chops at the thought.

“But no one had any ill effects,” I said. “So the quiche was probably innocent. I’d go with the idea of the sloppy student.”

“But the police would have liked to make sure—and they were annoyed with me because I’d already washed all the pots and pans.”

“So there was nothing left to test,” Evangeline said slowly.

“Edytha would have washed up, too!” Jocasta defended. “We always did. Those pots and pans were Melisande’s demonstration set, her best. They’d been donated by the manufacturer for the publicity. She always used them and took them home all clean and ready to use at her next appearance.”

“Neat.” Martha nodded and I had the uneasy feeling that she was making mental notes for future use herself.

“She was.” The tears were close again. “Neat and tidy and organised … everything I’m not. Banquo adored her!” Jocasta wailed.

“I’m not going to be the one to tell him she’s dead. Edytha says—they all say—it’s
my
duty to tell him because it happened on my watch. But it’s not! And I won’t! I can’t!”

She gulped down the last of her brandy, slumped back in the chair, and sobbed herself comatose.

“You might as well put her to bed.” Evangeline divided her imperative look between Martha and me, distancing herself completely from the proceedings. “We’ll get no more out of her today.”

Chapter Seven

I woke in the morning with the feeling that today had to be better. How could it not be? Yesterday had gone from bad to worse after we got Jocasta to bed. Martha’s mood had not improved, even though I’d taken Jocasta’s place as her assistant. Evangeline, naturally, had disappeared after she announced that she had a few errands to do and couldn’t say when she’d be back and not to bother about supper for her. I had looked again at Martha and envied Evangeline’s escape.

Yes, today had to be an improvement. I sighed deeply and shifted Cho-Cho so that I could get up. She made an indistinct sound, somewhere between a purr and a grumble, then jumped down and followed me into the kitchen.

There was no sign of Jocasta, not that I’d really expected there would be. Martha hadn’t arrived yet, but from the mood she’d been in when she left yesterday, I wasn’t expecting her before noon. If then.

Savouring the momentary peace, I fed Cho-Cho and brewed a pot of coffee. As well as the bread, there were a couple of muffins in the bread box, but they didn’t tempt me. I looked around for something more interesting and noticed the packet of sesame seeds on the counter.

Yes! It had been a long time since I’d had it, but I’d treat myself to sesame semi-toast. I took a slice of bread from the loaf, buttered it more enthusiastically than usual, and sprinkled a lavish handful of sesame seeds over it, pressing them down into the butter, then popped it seed side up under the grill. A delicious aroma seeped into the kitchen as the savoury seeds turned brown. When they were somewhere between mid and deep brown, I turned the grill off and took out my prize.

Cho-Cho leaped up on the table to investigate, sniffing the air delicately.

“It’s delicious,” I told her, “but I don’t think you’d truly be interested.” Just in case, I broke off a corner and offered it to her. Let’s face it; I was already planning a second piece as soon as I’d finished this one.

“Mmm…” Cho-Cho might not be that interested, but Evangeline stood in the doorway, also sniffing. “Whatever that is, I’ll have some.” She poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down opposite me, waiting for the food to appear magically. The woman has spent too much time in fancy restaurants.

“Did you have a productive afternoon yesterday?” I finished my own semi-toast before getting up to make more.

“Oh, good enough.” Evangeline yawned hugely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just ginger-peachy,” I said bitterly. “Jocasta never surfaced again—”

“Did you expect her to?”

“And Martha … Martha…” I shook my head and pushed back my chair. The grill was easier to cope with.

“Would you pour me more coffee while you’re up?” No “please,” of course, but she actually smiled.

There was something wrong here. She was too casual, too polite, too … complacent. I looked at her suspiciously.

“You needn’t narrow your eyes at me, just because you had a boring afternoon and I didn’t.”

“Oh, it wasn’t boring,” I assured her. “Fraught, walking-on-eggs fraught, tiring—in fact, exhausting—but definitely not boring.” I took a beat, then asked, “And what did you do?”

“Oh, nothing much.” She was elaborately casual. “Browsed in a library for a while, them met Cecile for a matinee at some ramshackle experimental theatre, then we had a leisurely dinner at the Harpo. I didn’t get back all that late, but you were all asleep.”

There was something wrong with that story but, before I could put my finger on it, the door rang.

“Martha forgot her key?” There was an odd note in Evangeline’s voice.

“Possibly.” But why should that make Evangeline look so uneasy? “Unlikely, though. I’m not expecting her this early.”

The doorbell rang again. Cho-Cho looked in the direction of the sound and her ears twitched irritably. She turned and stalked back into my bedroom.

Now I was feeling uneasy, too, as I went down the hall to answer the bell. So much so that I actually bothered to stand on tiptoe to look through the peephole. I was swept by an irritation to match Cho-Cho’s as I saw who was waiting outside. And pressing the damned doorbell again.

“Good morning, Teddy.” I tried not to snarl as I opened the door.

“Good morning, Trixie.” Encountering my frown, he flinched nervously. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“Too early for what?” I briefly considered slamming the door in his face, then remembered that I shouldn’t antagonise him. It would be terrible if he changed his mind about letting me keep Cho-Cho-San. “We’re just having breakfast.”

“Ah, splendid, splendid!” Stepping forward, he seemed to barely refrain from salivating. “I was rather afraid you might be going out.”

Why hadn’t I thought of that excuse? I gave him a weak smile and turned. He followed me back to the kitchen. Evangeline looked up as we entered.

“Oh,” she said flatly. “It’s you. Again.”

“I’m afraid Cho-Cho is asleep.” I don’t know why I bothered trying. Did I really think that item of information would make him turn around and leave?

“That’s all right. I’ll just wait. She never sleeps too long during the day. Just little catnaps, you know. Ha-ha.”

“Ha!” Evangeline’s answering smile could have curdled milk. I began to revise my earlier too-hopeful opinion. Today was not going to be better, after all.

“Something smells good.” Teddy sniffed the air wistfully.

“I’m afraid we’ve just finished the loaf,” Evangeline said.

No, the day wasn’t going to get any better.

“Oh, well…” He looked so crestfallen I felt sorry for him.

“Actually—” I pretended to rummage in the bread box. “There’s an end crust left.” It was the best I could offer without showing up Evangeline as an outright liar. “If you wouldn’t mind that?”

“Oh, no, no.” He brightened. “That would be fine.” I lathered on extra butter and plenty of sesame seeds and shoved it under the grill. Evangeline looked daggers at me. Teddy was oblivious.

“You rang our inside bell,” Evangeline said abruptly. “But how did you get in downstairs? You don’t—” She shot me an accusing look. “You don’t have a key, do you?”

“No, no such luck. Actually,” he continued, somewhat abashed, “jolly old Nigel was just leaving as I arrived. He held the door for me.”

“Hmm…” Evangeline’s lips tightened. Old Nigel wasn’t going to be quite so jolly after she got through with him.