A Drink of Death (Japanese Tea Garden Mysteries Book 2) Page 13

  “You might be surprised to know that this was not uncommon among the majority of wealthy families during the 17th century,” he said, nodding before taking a sip of his tea.

  “Really? Keeping up with the Jones-son,” I said, trying to be funny but coming across lame.

  Mr. Ota chuckled politely but I could tell he wasn’t amused.

  I quickly changed the subject.

  “So, can you tell me a thing or two about this?”

  I took the cat and finally let it out of the bag. I set the broken piece down along side of it. I expected Mr. Ota to click his tongue and shake his head. For sure he’d tell me it belonged in the window of a sushi restaurant, along with a cheap statue of Buddha and a goldfish aquarium. But he didn’t.

  His face became serious. I was almost afraid. He had the look of someone who had just unearthed the statue of some horrible demon. I was about to apologize when the tiniest smile tickled at the corners of his mouth.

  “Where did you get this?”

  I described how it had been buried in the wall of the house where my Japanese grandmother had lived for decades and how it was unearthed when the carpenters came in to expand my kitchen.

  “You have no idea what this is?” he asked.

  “I have an idea. There was a guy who wanted it very badly,” I revealed. “But he disappeared and I thought I’d bring it to a professional. I know it goes by the name of maneki-neko. A Fortune Cat. But that is the extent of my knowledge.”

  “You’re right. It is a Fortune Cat and they’re usually common enough. But yours is very unique. First of all, it’s made of ivory. Second,” he turned it around and pointed to the tail. “You see this tail is from the turn-of-the-century Meiji Period. That is what makes this very rare.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. May I ask what is it you planned to do with this?”

  I could see a real interest twinkling in his eyes.

  “Well, I wouldn’t feel comfortable having something so special in my house. It would just run the risk of breaking.” I picked up the chip from the ear and placed it back down on Mr. Ota’s table. “Would you be interested in it?”

  “Maddie, this item is very valuable. I know just the dealer who would cherish a piece like this, even with its broken ear,” Mr. Ota replied. “But are you sure you want to part with it?”

  I thought for a moment. It had obviously travelled with my grandmother overseas from Japan. Who knew how she had acquired it? It might have been special to her.

  “Can you make sure my grandmother gets the credit for it?” I asked. “That the dealer knows a little bit of history about my grandmother and passes it along? I think that’s the most precious part of the statue.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Ota replied softly. He looked at me and tilted his head to the left. A wide smile crept across his face, pushing wrinkles up on his cheeks. “Wait here.”

  He strolled to his office. I looked around and then studied the Fortune Cat. To me it was still an ugly thing. And yet, something about it was beginning to grow on me.

  Mr. Ota returned with a small piece of paper. He handed it to me.

  “What’s this?” I choked, as I looked at the check he handed me.

  “It is not what the item is worth,” Mr. Ota replied. “It is my regular finders fee. You will accept?”

  Accept? Of course, I’ll accept! Are you crazy? This pays for my renovations and I’ll still have enough for groceries when I’m done! Accept? You’re darn tootin’ I accept!

  “This is so kind of you. Yes, Mr. Ota. Thank you.” I held my excitement in. I didn’t want to look like some hick who had never had two nickels to rub together.

  But when I left Iwamoto Antiquities, I clutched my library bag tightly to my chest and I dashed to my car. I didn’t want to risk my check blowing away, or getting stolen, or lost, or deposited by someone else. I made a fast trip to the bank and deposited the check immediately. Once it was finished, I climbed back into the car and sighed with relief. Then a realization dawned on me.

  “Oh, no!” I shouted at the steering wheel. “Mamma Jackie was right! That bird did bring me good luck!”

  21

  It didn’t take long for the generous payment from Mr. Ota to be used up. But it felt good to pay the carpenters to continue their work. I was able to stock the fridge and fill my car up with gas. After practicing frugality, I was even able to address some of the frivolous charges Daniel Walker had brought against me, like repairing a bit of chain link fence at my tea garden and having some brambles chopped down. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

  When my ex-mother-in-law first came back to the house, she was extremely angry. Even for her. I knew it was something I’d never seen before.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Drake said when he brought her home. “The doctors say she’s healthy as a horse. Aside from that cut on her hand and some disorientation from the drug Butler gave her, she’s fine. They told me she ate. Her body was functioning normally. But she’s mad. It’s almost like she’s upset she’s home.”

  Mamma Jackie had strolled into the house and went directly into her room, where she slammed the door shut. She barely said hello to Moonshine. To me, it was obvious what was wrong. She was still very scared and probably had a slight case of PTSD.

  “Drake, did you talk to her? I mean, did you tell her that Mr. Butler is in custody and won’t be getting out any time soon? Did you tell her that all the people at the community garden were praying for her? Did you tell her how you went to Winchester and checked every avenue you thought of to find her?”

  “Of course not, Maddie,” he had said. “The best thing for Mamma Jackie is to forget the whole thing happened.”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “Look, I know my mother. She’s not going to want to talk to anyone about this. She’s probably more embarrassed by it than anything. So forgetting it would be for the best.”

  “Drake, you need to go talk to your mom. She was kidnapped, for heaven’s sake. He kept her in a basement.”

  “Yes and she was out cold the entire time. She doesn’t remember anything anyway so to pretend she does, well, Maddie, that’ll do more harm than good. Just let her get some rest and she’ll be fine.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to get back to Winchester and work.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Maddie, I’ve got trials coming up. I can’t stay. The work doesn’t stop piling up just because my mom had an incident. I’ll call later and see how she’s doing.”

  Before I could think of another word to say, he was already in his car and backing out of the driveway.

  Crazy as it may seem, I felt terrible for Mamma Jackie. I knew if I went and knocked on her door, she’d tell me to leave her alone. So, I thought I’d be a little more diplomatic.

  I didn’t try to talk to her for a couple of hours. When I thought she’d had enough time to herself, I boldly knocked on the door.

  “There is someone who wants to see you, Mamma Jackie.” I waited for her to answer.

  “Tell whoever it is to get lost.”

  “No,” I argued. “He’s been calling and calling for you. And he’s been calling me ‘Lazy’ every day.”

  It wasn’t exactly the truth but it was close enough. I knew that Moonshine missed Mamma Jackie and I knew Mamma Jackie loved the fact the bird called me ‘Lazy’. It took less than a minute for her to crack open her bedroom door.

  I help up Moonshine’s cage for her to open his door and reach her hand inside.

  I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself every couple of days. Both Mamma Jackie and Moonshine could spit nails. But when she reached her hand into his cage, murmuring her only kind words to him, he would take her hand as gently as the gentleman callers in her Victorian romances did when they asked some maiden to dance.

  She placed the bird on her shoulder. Before she gently closed her bedroom door again, I saw Moonshine give h
er an affectionate headbutt. I could have sworn I saw a tear at the corner of her eye but I couldn’t be sure. Heaven forbid I start a rumor the old woman actually has a soft side.

  It wasn’t until late afternoon that first day as the sun began to set, that I knocked on her door again.

  “Mamma Jackie?” I called. “I’ve got your afternoon drink on the veranda and the book you were reading waiting for you.”

  She cracked the door and scowled at me.

  “How long do I have to wait to get something to eat around here?”

  “I’ll get something started. Do you have a taste for anything?”

  “Something that doesn’t give me food poisoning would be nice,” she huffed.

  “Now, if I wanted to poison you, I’d have done it by now. Don’t you think?” I asked as sweetly as possible.

  She didn’t reply but went out on the veranda. I waited a few minutes before joining her. When I pulled up a chair and looked out into the yard, I hoped Mamma Jackie saw what I did. The flowers growing off down the path. I hoped she heard the crickets and cicadas. I hoped she felt safe.

  “Mamma Jackie, you haven’t even touched your peach julep.” I noticed the glass was almost full to the top as some of the ice had melted. “Did I make it wrong?”

  “I’m afraid to sip it.”

  “Why would you be afraid…?”

  Then I remembered. Mr. Butler had drugged her drink. It was one of the simplest things that she enjoyed and he’d ruined it.

  “Mamma, as long as you live with me, I can promise you that nothing in this house will ever hurt you. Enjoy your drink. You’re home.”

  I held my breath and waited for a smart remark. When I didn’t get one, I wasn’t sure if I was happy about that or concerned.

  Hotdogs with potato chips and warm tomato and onion salad were one of Mamma Jackie’s favorite meals. I was still hobbling around with groin muscle problems so an easy dinner was perfectly fine with me.

  “So, I’m back and you break out the good china and fancy silverware,” she jabbed when I handed her a paper plate heaped with food.

  “Nothing but the best for you, Mamma,” I teased back and limped across the veranda to my own seat.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Why are you walking funny?” she asked before taking a huge bite of hotdog.

  I knew that what I was about to say was going to haunt me for weeks if not longer. But I replied anyway.

  “I pulled a groin muscle, remember? You overheard the doctor talking with me about it when we were at the hospital.”

  She appeared to have forgotten.

  “You did what?”

  “I pulled a groin muscle, Mamma.”

  “How in the world did you do that?” She looked over her reading glasses at me. Her lips were pinched together with a tiny speck of yellow mustard at the left corner. She licked it off quickly, reminding me of a gecko.

  I could have spilled the beans and told her that it was me who had showed up to save her before Drake did, that night at the old mansion. But I didn’t. I gave all the credit to her son, because I felt like they both needed that to strengthen their connection.

  The story I told her made me look like a bumbling stooge at Redstone Manor, saved by Drake only after trying to do something on my own and injuring myself in the process.

  There weren’t many things that made my mother-in-law laugh, but if I was struck with any kind of bad luck it never failed to tickle her funny bone. This was no exception.

  She laughed. Not only did she laugh, she laughed until nothing came out. Then she gasped for air, causing a series of snorts and high-pitched cackles.

  “That makes you happy?” I asked.

  “Immensely.” She continued to hoot, shaking her head and devouring her food. It was worth it.

  I knew Mamma Jackie wouldn’t be back to her old self for some time but she was getting there. I watched her take a sip of her drink in between bites of hotdog and salad.

  We were never going to have a touchy-feely relationship. That wasn’t Mamma Jackie’s style. But I’d never forget how she held my hand in the ambulance. She had needed me. I was determined to let her know I was here for her, even if it came through a string of insults.

  Everything improved in the days after that.

  It was soon after Mamma Jackie’s recovery that something unexpected turned up in the mail one afternoon.

  22

  It read, more or less:

  Dear Ms. Maddie Morgan. Blah, blah, blah. Violation of specific city ordinances. Blah, blah, blah. Brought to our attention by Daniel Walker. Blah, blah, blah. Request you appear before the Little River Department of Business and Tourism Commission. Blah, blah, blah.

  Great. This was all I needed. Even though Mr. Ota had given me a generous finders fee that really did come in handy, I still had several thousand dollars of repairs to make to the tea garden.

  I could have taken that Fortune Cat to another couple of places and probably gotten a lot more money. It was obviously worth it. But the idea of my grandmother burying it in her walls stuck with me. That spoke to my heart. It made more sense to have her story repeated than for me to get a hefty payout.

  I might be making a mistake. I’d probably look back after Walker pounded a foreclosure sign in my tea garden and think what a dummy I was for not going after the highest bid I could get for the cat statue.

  But, I never knew it was worth anything until Mamma Jackie was kidnapped for it. So, I sort of owed Mr. Butler for enlightening me to the value of the knick-knack. I didn’t want to be like him, though, obsessed with the cat’s value.

  Even though I might be barely hanging on, my fridge was full and the car had gas. The carpenters would be putting up the kitchen cabinets. The fake marble flooring had been ordered.

  I’d have an opportunity to talk in front of the Business and Tourism Commission. Once they heard my side of the story they’d see how important the tea garden was to Little River. I knew they would. Walker wasn’t going to get my property without a fight.

  “If Mamma Jackie could live through what she did, I can certainly face off Walker and have a better than fifty percent chance of getting the upper hand,” I announced, setting aside the letter.

  “You sure can,” Mamma Jackie said from out on the veranda, where she must have overheard me bringing the mail in.

  I didn’t ask her to repeat herself. She’d for sure tell me I was hearing things or that I was going deaf. But that was all I needed to hear.

  The appointment was set for two weeks from today. I’d be ready. I’d find out what I could about Walker’s quarry. I’d put as many bandages on the citations as I could and leave the really heavy lifting until after a decision on my property had been made.

  “That’s as good a plan as any,” I told myself.

  Just then, my phone rang. I looked down and saw Michael’s phone number. I didn’t answer and instead sent it to voicemail. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him. I did. But right now wasn’t the time. I had to stay focused on my ex-mother-in-law. I had to devote all of my attention to the city citations. There was time enough later to think about the upcoming date we had planned. When I had a free minute, I’d call him back.

  It was funny how the convoluted relationship with my ex-in-laws didn’t deter Michael. Had our roles been reversed, I was pretty sure I would have run for the hills. Okay, maybe I wouldn’t have. He was still very good looking and, true to his word, he had called more than once lately to check on Mamma Jackie and me. Mostly me.

  “Hello, handsome,” Moonshine chirped, breaking into my thoughts. “Hello, handsome.”

  “Handsome, indeed,” I mumbled.

  “Good luck! Good luck!” Moonshine screeched from his cage.

  But for once, I had a feeling I wouldn’t need it.

  ______________________________

  Find out what mysteries lie ahead for Maddie in Book 3, A
Taste of Trickery.

  About the Author

  Blythe Baker is a thirty-something bottle redhead from the South Central part of the country. When she’s not slinging words and creating new worlds and characters, she’s acting as chauffeur to her children and head groomer to her household of beloved pets.

  Blythe enjoys long walks with her dog on sweaty days, grubbing in her flower garden, cooking, and ruthlessly de-cluttering her overcrowded home. She also likes binge-watching mystery shows on TV and burying herself in books about murder.

  To learn more about Blythe, visit her website and sign up for her newsletter at www.blythebaker.com