A Drink of Death (Japanese Tea Garden Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  “Mom, that’s enough.” Drake stepped back over to sit with the old girl for a while.

  “Mamma Jackie!” I called. “If it were up to me, I would have had you kidnapped a long time ago.”

  “Don’t think I don’t know it!” she bit back.

  I rubbed my temples and sighed.

  18

  I was finally allowed to leave the hospital. Mamma Jackie was staying overnight and I was glad of that. Even though the house was big and empty, I knew she was coming back. It wasn’t going to stay empty for much longer. Moonshine would be happy and probably talk non-stop. The peach juleps would be flowing and she’d be enjoying her romance novels on the veranda with the sun hitting her skin and the breeze keeping her cool.

  The old girl really wasn’t all that much trouble. Just mean. Even at that, she wasn’t evil. Give it a few more years and maybe. But not yet.

  I had a taxi drop me off at my car. In the distance, I could still see red and blue rollers of police cars at Redstone Manor. They were probably combing the entire area and the property for any clues as to what else Mr. Butler could have been up to.

  I stood for a moment at my car and watched. Mr. Butler had it easy. He had a place to live and a nice job taking care of the grounds at a place where the boss was never around. That sounded pretty sweet to me. He obviously loved gardening. And yet he gave it all up for a statue.

  “Greed. It’ll get you every time.”

  While I drove home, I contemplated all that had happened.My phone blinged and snapped me back into the moment.

  I didn’t look at it until I had pulled into the driveway. It was a voice message from Michael.

  “I’m not going to the police station smelling like the newspaper used to wrap this morning’s fish in,” I grumbled.

  I also didn’t want to go to the police station looking the way I did.

  When I stepped inside the house, Moonshine was ready to let me have it.

  “Mamma Jackie’s coming home,” I tried to sooth the hungry bird.

  “Breakfast, Lazy! Breakfast, Lazy!” he squawked.

  I clicked my tongue and gave the bird fresh food and water. He continued his temper tantrum, as I went upstairs to hit the shower and freshen up.

  The stairs were a nightmare to go up. Like a toddler, I had to hold the banister and go one step at a time, easing as much stress on my left thigh as possible.

  I carefully got undressed, with my thigh screaming in pain. I washed up and lost myself for a little while, as the hot water washed all the grime from the night before off my body.

  Once I was out of the shower, smelling like lavender instead of a gym sock, I slipped on a dress. It wasn’t a Friday-night-out-with-the-girls kind of dress. It was the kind of dress that Sophia Loren might wear while picking sunflowers in the hills of Tuscany. I brushed my hair and put on a dab of lip gloss and was about to go to the police station, when I heard a ruckus downstairs.

  “What in the world?” I shouted. As I hurried down the steps, I winced and gripped the bannister for support.

  It was Moonshine. In my daze, I had forgotten to secure the door to his cage. He was swooping around madly, thrilled to be free.

  “Moonshine! I’m not in the mood!” I shouted up at the bird. He squawked and cawed and called me all kinds of names.

  “When I catch you, you’re going to be sorry,” I warned. “Now, get back in your cage.”

  Just then my doorbell rang. I was sure it was a neighbor complaining about the noise. But before I could hobble half a step, Moonshine swooped across the room, cawed, and pooped on my beautiful-Sophia Loren-picking-sunflowers-in-Tuscany dress.

  I froze and looked up, scowling at the bird.

  “I’m going to kill you,” I warned.

  “Hey, pretty boy! Hey, pretty boy! Hello, handsome!” he squawked back.

  Before I could even try and dash upstairs, my front door opened. At first I thought it was Drake. He had a key and perhaps he had come by to get his notebook, now that he knew I had it and couldn’t decipher it.

  But it wasn’t Drake.

  In fact, it was a strange hand that held onto the doorknob, pushing the door open. That was when I saw my own house keys dangling carelessly from the lock. I had forgotten them in the door.

  How long was I in the shower, completely vulnerable to an attack? What was wrong with me? Was I so distracted by the events of the past few days that it was becoming hazardous to my health? Who was coming into my house?

  19

  Thinking fast, I picked up the closest thing to defend myself: a wicker wastebasket. I searched for something more solid, but it was too late.

  He was in.

  “Hi!” Detective Michael Sullivan chirped.

  “Oh my gosh,” I sighed, putting my hand to my stomach.

  “You left your keys in the door.”

  “I saw that as you were coming in. You’re lucky I waited for the right moment to strike. You could have been a casualty to my wicker basket of death.” I waved the basket, then tossed it back on the floor where it had been.

  “Yikes. I’d have hated to get a splinter from that.”

  “Very funny,” I grumbled. Then I remembered Moonshine. “Quick, close the door or the bird will get out. Or wait…yeah. Close the door.” I looked down at the mess on the front of my dress and felt my gag reflex kick in.

  Michael closed the door, after retrieving my keys.

  “How’s your mother-in-law?”

  “Mamma Jackie is as mean as always,” I replied, trying to figure out how to cover the droppings that were beginning to coagulate on my pretty dress. “But the doctor said she’d be fine. They are keeping her overnight for observation. Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “I’d love one. Thanks. I finished the paperwork on Mr. Butler and figured I’d come check on you. There wasn’t time to grab a cup. I’ll take your statement, if you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Why not.” I tried to smile. As my adrenaline began to recede, the pain in my upper thigh went off like a cannon. It suddenly became very difficult to walk.

  “Hey, what happened? Are you all right? No one said you were injured at the Redstone Manor. My gosh, sit down, sit down.”

  Michael rushed across the dining room, grabbed a chair, and brought it over to me. He placed it next to the couch, where he waited for me to sit. I eased myself into the straight-backed chair with a humiliated grunt.

  “I pulled a groin muscle,” I confessed, feeling my face flush a hundred different shades of red. “When I was climbing out of the window and Mr. Butler was behind me.”

  I gave an awkward demonstration of how I had twisted myself to get away, and nearly pulled the muscle again.

  “I’m so sorry,” Michael said. “I would have brought you some flowers had I known you were hurt. I thought you rode in the ambulance with your mother-in-law to comfort her. I didn’t realize…”

  “Uhm, EX-mother-in-law. I was trying to keep her calm but that woman could face an army of bikers and have them terrified to cross a line she made in the dirt. I don’t know where she gets it or how she has so much energy.”

  “Where do you keep the coffee?” Michael asked.

  “I’m sorry. I did offer you some. I’ll make it. It will just take a second.”

  “No,” he insisted. “I might be a bachelor but I know how to make a pot of coffee. Tell me where everything is.”

  I rattled off where I kept my coffee tin and pointed to my new counter where the coffee maker sat proudly. Within a few minutes, the smell of fresh joe filled my house.

  “While that perks, do you want to give me your statement on what happened last night?”

  I took a deep breath and told Michael how I had woken up to Moonshine’s cawing and was hit with the idea of where Mamma Jackie was being held.

  It was very juvenile, but I watched his expression to see if there was a twinkle of surprise or pride at how I had come to my conclusion that Mr. Butler was responsible for the kidnapping
. I got a couple nods while he scribbled on his pad of paper and a few clicks of his tongue. But I didn’t get an “atta-girl” or “well done” or anything. I looked down and saw Moonshine’s poop on my dress and cringed.

  “Would you get me a napkin?” I asked. Since I wasn’t being fussed over the way I felt I should have been, then I was going to put Michael to work.

  “Sure. I’ll get our coffees too.”

  He came back with a steaming cup for each of us, plus a napkin for me.

  “As if I didn’t have enough go wrong, the bird marked his territory,” I grumbled, while trying to wipe the grossness from my dress.

  “My grandmother always said that if a bird does that, it’s good luck.” Michael smiled and sipped his coffee.

  “You’re lying.”

  “No. It’s an old Italian saying. It’s good luck. It looks like Moonshine got you good. I’d hurry up and go buy a lottery ticket.”

  I burst out laughing but reined it in as it hurt my groin muscle.

  “Good luck,” the bird chirped as he watched us through the doorway, from on top of his cage in the next room. “Good luck, handsome.”

  I finished telling Michael the details about Mr. Butler. As he scribbled, I waited for him to fold up his little pad, stuff it in his pocket and say good-bye. But he didn’t do that. He had a couple questions for me.

  “So, since you’re a little on the gimpy side, I think it would be a good idea for me to make you a dinner, while you keep your leg iced, or heated, or whatever it is the doctor said you should do.”

  “You know how to cook?” I looked at Michael with suspicion.

  “I know how to cook a few things.” His chest puffed with pride.

  “That sounds nice but my ex-mother-in-law will be coming back home tomorrow and I’ll have to tend to her.”

  “I don’t mind cooking for her too.”

  “Oh! You don’t!” I laughed out loud again. “Trust me when I tell you that cooking for Mamma Jackie is not something I would subject anyone to. She doesn’t just complain, Michael. She’ll attack. And after what she’s been through, you’ll be insulted up one side and down the other. Nope. I’m going to have to take a pass.”

  “It can’t be that bad.” He laughed.

  “Ha!”

  “I’m a cop. You think I’m not familiar with difficult people?”

  “Double ha!” I smirked and shook my head. “I really appreciate the gesture, but I have to say no. Not right now. Maybe some other time.”

  “All right. But it will take a little more than your ex-mother-in-law to get me to give up.” He returned my smile and raised me a wink.

  Before I could say anything, Michael stood up and took his coffee cup into the kitchen, where he rinsed it out in the sink. He returned with the pot and gave me a fresh refill. Before he left, he gave me strict orders to stay home and rest my leg.

  “On our next date, I may want to take you dancing.”

  “I don’t know how to dance.”

  “Sure you do. All girls know how to dance,” he said.

  “I’m telling you, I don’t.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I don’t know how to dance either. We’re perfect for each other.”

  There was no way I was going to let him see me smile. Nope. I bit down on my tongue to make sure I didn’t crack the tiniest grin. I arched my eyebrows at him, as if to say, “I don’t find you amusing.”

  “I’ll call you in a couple days and keep you posted about the case.” He began walking toward the door. “Get some rest. When you’re better, wear that dress on our date. After you wash it, of course.”

  With that, he pulled the front door shut and was gone.

  “Good luck!” Moonshine spouted off again.

  20

  It didn’t take long for me to fall back into my routine, once Mamma Jackie was back in the house. She was still as salty as ever. But I could tell by the way she moseyed from her bedroom to the veranda with Moonshine on her shoulder that she was glad to be back.

  My pulled muscle was feeling much better. It still twinged a little when I went up the stairs. If I had to run to catch a bus, I’d for sure miss it and be late to my engagement.

  “You walk like an old lady,” Mamma Jackie would gripe as I served her breakfast.

  “Well, you’d know.”

  “I’m going to the garden tomorrow. It isn’t like you care if I’m here or not.”

  “Go ahead, Mamma Jackie. They seem to like you over there. Of course, they’re in the sun most of the day.”

  “Are you going to stay in again today?” She looked over her reading glasses at me. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

  “Good to know. I’m going out today.”

  It wasn’t the lottery but it was close to it. After Michael had left I had taken off my beautiful dress and washed it. Then, I thought I’d do a little research on the trinket that had been the source of all the commotion and trouble in my house.

  As it turned out, there was a small Japanese house of antiquities on the outskirts of Little River, not far from Redstone Manor.

  “Iwamoto Antiquities has been here in Little River for over fifty years,” the proprietor, Mr. Ota, had told me over the phone. “It is a family business.”

  “Mr. Ota, I have a statue that was unearthed in my kitchen wall.”

  That was enough to pique Mr. Ota’s interest and he told me to bring the Fortune Cat in the following Thursday.

  So here I was, wearing my beautiful-Sophia Loren-picking-sunflowers-in-Tuscany dress with the ugly Fortune Cat in a paper bag rolled up tightly and stuffed in my Newberry Library bag. I looked like I had stepped out of a Fellini movie, even though I didn’t have a drop of Italian in me. It wasn’t often that I bragged on myself but I looked cute and was feeling better than I had for a while.

  Like Drake, I hadn’t realized how stressed and worried I was about Mamma Jackie until she was back home. I tried to convince myself that because she was a tough old girl that she probably wasn’t that scared. But I was terrified more than I’d ever admit. I had been holding my breath for the three days she was gone. When I finally exhaled, I was exhausted. It was the kind of tired you feel after swimming for a couple hours. Every muscle is glad to be back on dry land and your lungs tingle with relief at being filled and emptied with normal gulps of air.

  So, now I sashayed to my car, greeting the carpenters as they pulled in the driveway.

  “Mamma Jackie is back. She’s on the veranda reading her book,” I warned them with a smile.

  They nodded and said they’d be widening this or tightening up that and the pantry I had requested they put in should be done by the end of the week. At that time the second payment installment would be due.

  “Fine,” I chirped, not having a clue where I was going to get the money from. That reminded me of my quarrel with Daniel Walker and his citations. Suddenly my pretty dress wasn’t looking so pretty and I was feeling the weight of the world starting to settle over my shoulders.

  “You don’t know anything yet,” I comforted myself, as I got into my car. “The bank hasn’t called back. They may still have good news. No use fretting until there’s really something to fret about.”

  It was a beautiful sunny day. It usually was. Texas wasn’t known for gloomy skies. So I enjoyed the scenery on my way to Iwamoto Antiquities. As I passed by Redstone Manor, I thought of Mr. Butler.

  His mug shot had been printed in the Little River Review along with a story about how he had been hiding in plain sight. As it turned out, I was right about Mr. Butler. Kidnapping Mamma Jackie wasn’t his first rodeo, just maybe his biggest.

  According to what had been uncovered after his arrest, it turned out Mr. Butler had four aliases and was wanted in Texas, Louisiana, and even his hometown of Peach Grove, Georgia for embezzlement, blackmail and money-laundering.

  Thanks to Michael, the newspaper didn’t get Mamma Jackie’s name. He was also able to keep Drake and my names out of it as well. I was
thrilled with that. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to know how I hurt my groin and that I was living with my ex-husband’s mother. When described like that, the whole thing sounded weird.

  When I pulled up to the antique shop, I was pleasantly surprised. It had beautiful gold lettering against a dark green backdrop that read Iwamoto Antiquities. There were two grand foo dog sculptures on each side of the entrance. These were elaborately colored lions with manes that looked like tongues of fire. Their eyes were bulging spheres and they held one massive front paw up, while the other balanced on a smooth ball. They grimaced, exposing their maws and teeth as they greeted everyone who walked past.

  I walked inside and had to ring a buzzer.

  “Iwamoto Antiquities. Hello?”

  “Hi. I have an appointment with Mr. Ota?”

  “Miss Morgan?”

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  A buzzer sounded. Quickly, I squeezed the door handle and stepped inside. There were a variety of glass cases on my left and right. As I ventured further in, I saw massive Japanese wall hangings, elaborately carved chairs and dressers and a canopy bed carved out of a single piece of wood that was fit for royalty.

  It didn’t smell like the thrift stores I was going to take my other trinkets to. There wasn’t the slightest hint of old book smell or musty clothes.

  All I could detect was the slight smell of sandalwood. It was soothing.

  “Hello, Miss Morgan. Thank you for coming. I am Mr. Ota.” A slender man with just a few strands of black hair appeared from a back office. He wore a crisp white shirt with cuff links and navy blue trousers.

  “Please call me Maddie.”

  We shook hands.

  Mr. Ota was very kind. We enjoyed a cup of tea together and he walked me through his shop, pointing out some of the more extraordinary items. Funny as it seemed, some of the most rare pieces were tiny sculptures or unusual pieces of jewelry.

  “I would have guessed that bed was very rare,” I said, admiring the mother-of-pearl image that was on the headboard.