Book Club Killer (4 page)

Chapter 8

The look on Sonja’s face when she
opened the front door of her house told me that she wasn’t thrilled that I’d
stopped by. When she didn’t answer my calls earlier, I sent a couple of texts. After
those went unanswered, I decided to jump in the car and drive over.

“I’m in the middle of something,”
she said, fixing her gaze over my left shoulder. “Can I maybe call you later?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re
okay. And to see if you’d heard about Rosemary.”

Her jaw tightened and her eyes
narrowed. “What about her?”

I studied the subtle changes in her
expression. It seemed as if she was distracted and barely listening to me.

“She’s dead, Sonja. The police
suspect that she was poisoned.”

I kept my eyes on her as she gasped
and stumbled back from the doorway. “Oh that’s horrible!” she whispered. “Is
this about what I said the other day? Do you think I had something to do with
it?”

“Heavens no! Everyone knows that
you and Rosemary had your differences. And we’ve all said things that we don’t really
mean when we’re upset. I’m really here because—”

“Yo, Sonja!” a loud voice called
from inside her house. “Where’d you put the keys to my car?”

For a brief moment, Sonja’s body
went rigid and her hands collapsed into tight fists that hung at her sides. I
knew it wasn’t her husband, but I didn’t recognize the voice. The guy sounded
gruff and gravelly; from the tinge of pale pink on Sonja’s face, it seemed to
make her instantly uncomfortable.

“Sonja?”

She put one hand on the door.
“Thanks for stopping by, Jana. But I need to go take care of this.”

“Sure you’re okay?”

She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice was tight and brittle, making her sound anything
but okay. “I just need to—”

“Where the hell are you?” the voice
demanded as footsteps thundered loudly down the stairs.

Sonja began closing the door, but I
stepped forward and put my hand on it. “What’s going on?” I asked. “You don’t
look fine to me.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s just—”

Before she could finish, a man
wearing a blue jacket and black pants appeared over her shoulder. I glanced at
him and felt my pulse quicken; it was the guy that had delivered the spinach
dip from Olive Street Café the previous afternoon. As he walked toward us,
Sonja smiled nervously.

“Jana,” she said. “This is my
brother, Warren.” The guy glared at me. “And Warren, this is—”

“Where are the car keys?” he
snapped, ignoring me completely.

Sonja clenched her teeth. “On the
kitchen counter,” she said. “By the coffeemaker.”

Without a glance at me or a word to
his sister, Warren spun around and stomped back down the hallway toward the
kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” Sonja said quietly.
“He’s not the most social person.”

I reached out and took her hand.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “You seem totally on edge.”

She shook her head. “Not while he’s
here,” she whispered. “Wait until he’s gone.”

A few second later, a deafening
crash announced that Sonja’s brother had gone out the kitchen door. I heard the
familiar metallic drone as the automatic opener raised the garage door, and
then glanced over as a bright red sedan lurched down the driveway toward the
street.

“Come inside so we can talk,” Sonja
said, opening the door so I could step into the foyer. “I doubt if he’ll be
gone long. I want to try and explain quickly so you can leave before he gets back.”

I followed her into the kitchen,
where she poured two cups of coffee before slumping into a chair at the table.

“Okay, what’s up?” I asked. “I’ve
never seen you like this.”

She sighed heavily. “Warren
suddenly appeared on our doorstep a couple of days ago. He said he needed a
place to crash until he could find an apartment.”

“Wait a sec,” I said, holding up
one hand. “I thought he lived in San Diego.”

Sonja nodded. “He does,” she said.
“Or he did. I’m not exactly sure what he’s up to, but I couldn’t just turn him
away. He’s my baby brother. And even though he’s made some really bad choices
in his life, I feel obligated to help him.”

The pain in her eyes was deep. Her
voice was trembling as she picked at the hem of a placemat.

“You’ve never told me much about
him,” I offered. “And I’m not asking you to now. I just want to make sure
you’re okay.”

She shrugged. “I will be once he’s
gone.”

“How long is he staying?”

“Good question. If he’s not
borrowing my car to go to some job he claims he has, then he’s upstairs in our
guest bedroom whispering on his phone.”

“Where’s he working?”

“I don’t know,” Sonja answered.
“But I’m beginning to suspect that it’s something shady. I’d feel a little bit
better if he could at least rent a car and stop using mine. I don’t want to be
implicated in some random criminal stunt.”

“Why would you say that?” A flash
of memory from Saturday afternoon appeared in my mind: Sonja’s brother in the
Olive Street Café cap delivering the poisoned spinach dip.

She pressed her lips into a frown.
“Just the way he’s being so secretive,” she told me. “If I ask him a question,
he tells me I’m being nosy. If I offer to help, he tells me to mind my own
business.” She sipped her coffee and patted her mouth with a napkin. “When he
was fifteen, Warren got in with a bad bunch of guys. He was behind the wheel of
a stolen car when they robbed a convenience store. I think it was just a lark
in his mind, like they weren’t really committing a crime. But he ended up in
juvie, and it’s been downhill since then.”

I reached over and took her hand.
“I’m so sorry, Sonja. I had no idea.”

She looked up and smiled. “I know,”
she said. “That’s why I almost never talk about him. Warren used to be such a
sweet kid, but now he’s lost in some kind of…” Her voice cracked and tears
filled her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Jana. On one hand, I love him
because he’s my brother. But I also know that we can’t have a relationship if
he’s getting involved with shady characters again.”

“Is that what you suspect?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what, but
I think so.”

I took a deep breath and squeezed
her hand. “I need to tell you something, okay?”

She fixed her eyes on my face,
nodding silently.

“Your brother came to my house
yesterday,” I said. “He was delivering for Olive Street Café.”

Sonja blinked in confusion. “What
do you mean ‘delivering’?”

“Food,” I said. “To be more
precise, it was a container of spinach dip. You see, Ben had invited some
people for a dinner party last night to discuss a business deal he’s been
working on. Since he knew I was hosting our book club, he decided to have Olive
Street Café cater the dinner. But then his plans changed at the last minute,
and we didn’t have anyone over to dinner.”

Sonja frowned. “What’s that got to
do with my brother?’

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not being
very clear. I think I’m a little flustered after seeing him just now.”

“I don’t understand, Jana.” Her
voice was jittery and louder, like the conversation was making her anxious.
“What are you talking about?”

“As I was running around the house
yesterday getting ready for book club,” I explained, “your brother came to our
door and said he was delivering something from Olive Street Café. He said it
was part of the catered meal for Ben’s business dinner.”

Sonja heaved a sigh. “I thought you
just told me that was canceled.”

“It was,” I said. “But I didn’t
know it at that moment. Ben had taken the boys to a movie. He knew that I was
kind of nervous since it was my first time hosting our club, so he figured it
would be a good idea if the three of them were out of sight for a few hours.
And so I was tearing around the house doing some last-minute cleaning when the
doorbell rang.”

“And it was my brother?” asked
Sonja.

“Yes, with a delivery from the
café.”

“Okay,” she said. “So maybe that’s
the job he told me about.”

“Maybe, but there’s a catch.”

Sonja smirked. “And what’s that?”
she said sharply. “If Warren was involved, anything’s possible.”

I squared my shoulders and took a
quick breath. I felt a swirl of dread in my stomach as I prepared to deliver
the rest of the news.

“The police suspect that Rosemary
was poisoned,” I said. “And there’s a possibility that the toxic substance was
in the dip that your brother delivered to my house.”

Chapter 9

Sonja’s mouth fell open and she
slammed one hand down on the kitchen table.

“I
knew
he was doing
something wrong,” she cried. “I could just see it in his eyes.”

Her reaction was so swift and
forceful that I was momentarily speechless. She held up her hand and stared at
the palm as it instantly turned a deep shade of red.

“Warren has made one bad choice
after the next his whole life,” she said. “When he suddenly showed up on our
doorstep a few days ago, I should’ve turned him away. But I just couldn’t do
it.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I know a lot of people would say
I’m being a fool,” she continued. “But he’s my brother; he’s family. And we
were raised to believe that blood is thicker than water.”

I kept my gaze on her face as she
winced at the avalanche of emotions racing through her mind. While I certainly
appreciated what she was saying about the strength of family ties, I also felt
the urge to ask more questions. She bristled at the first one, but then her
shoulders seemed to loosen and her breathing became more relaxed.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Did your
brother tell you that he was working at the café?”

Sonja shook her head. “No,” she
said. “Warren told me that a buddy introduced him to someone who hired him for
a quick delivery of some type. When you told me that he came to your house
yesterday, I just assumed that was the job he’d mentioned.”

“Maybe he met the owners through
his friend,” I speculated. “Or one of the managers.”

“I suppose…” Her eyes drifted away
from mine, focusing on her cup of coffee for a long moment. “Should I ask him?”
she asked. “I can call right now and see if he’ll tell me.”

“About working at the café?”

She nodded. “Yeah, or whatever else
you think would be helpful. I’m just so unhinged by what you just told me.”

“That’s understandable. I couldn’t
believe it when he walked up behind you just now. I mean, I’d never seen him
before Saturday, and then here he is two days later in your house.”

She got up from the table, walked
to the counter and retrieved her phone.

“I’m going to call him.” She
scowled at the screen and dialed his number. “I love my brother, but I cannot
have him staying with us if he’s—” She held up one finger, listening intently.
“Voicemail,” she whispered. “Let me leave a…yeah, uh…Warren? It’s me. Can you
please call me as soon as you get this? I want to ask you a real quick
question.” She finished the message and walked back to the table. “Who knows if
he’ll even tell me the truth?” she muttered rhetorically. “But I can at least
ask him, right?”

“We could also call the café,” I
suggested.

“What for?” Sonja asked.

“To see if he’s working there.”

She shook her head firmly. “No,
please don’t. He’s pretty tightly wound, Jana. The littlest thing can make him
go off, and I won’t want to aggravate him. If we did call and he found out
about it, I know he’d be mad. Things will go more smoothly if I ask him
directly.”

“What if I called the café?” I
said. “In that case, he can’t blame you.”

She looked up, pressing her lips
together as she considered the question.

“Let me just talk to him first,
okay?”

I nodded. “If you think that’s
best,” I said.

“I do. I know my brother, and I
know he’d be really unhappy if he thought I was asking other people about his
business.”

We sat in silence for a few
minutes. Sonja studied her manicure, nonchalantly picking at one cuticle and
biting her lower lip. When I glanced at the clock on the microwave, I pushed my
chair back from the table.

“The other girls and I are going to
pay our respects to Rosemary’s husband,” I said quietly. “Do you want to come
with?”

She frowned. “Do you think I
should?”

“It’s up to you,” I answered. “It’s
going to be very difficult; their wedding anniversary is next month. From what
I’ve heard, her husband is handling it fairly well, but it’s got to be so
devastating. And I really think it’s the right thing to do. We’ve all known
Rosemary and Ed for years. Offering to help around the house with cooking or cleaning
or whatever is the least we can do.”

“Should we disturb him now?” she
said. “I mean, it just happened and…” Her breath caught in her throat. “Yes, I
want to go,” she said. “Can you give me a sec? I should wash my face and put on
some lipstick.”

“We’re meeting at the Starbucks on
Steadman,” I told her. “I’ll send a text so they know you’re joining.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Sonja said.
“Where would I be without you?”

“Ditto,” I said. “This is what
friends are for. Now, get a move on so we can be there by three.”

Chapter 10

My husband was standing in front of
the stove wearing his GIVE THE CHEF A BEER apron when I came through the door
that night around six.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

I dropped my purse on the counter,
gave him a quick kiss and plopped into a chair. “It was harder than I thought
it would be,” I said. “Ed just sat in a chair the whole time with this
shell-shocked look on his face.”

Ben poured a glass of wine and
brought it to me. “Here, hon. The boys already ate, so I’m making chicken
piccata and a salad for dinner.”

I sipped the wine and felt its
warmth traveling through me. The first time Ben and I went on a dinner date we
both ordered chicken piccata. It had become our favorite meal whenever comfort
food was required.

“That’s so sweet,” I said, putting
my feet up on another chair. “How did I ever get so lucky?”

He winked. “I could ask the same
question, hon.”

While he went back to work on
dinner, we talked about the two hours the book club group spent with Rosemary’s
husband. Dora volunteered to bring meals over for the next two weeks. Susie and
I offered to take care of laundry and cleaning. And Sonja said she could walk
the two Golden Retrievers that Rosemary and Ed had rescued the previous year.
Eve called me as I arrived, sputtering an over-complicated excuse about why she
wouldn’t be joining us. I wasn’t surprised; she’d been acting a bit odd since
hearing the news about Rosemary, so I figured maybe it was resuscitating
memories of her sister’s recent death.

“And what about Ed and Rosemary’s
parents?” asked Ben. “Are they here already?”

“Her father and mother drove in
last night,” I answered. “Ed’s dad passed away a couple of years ago, so his
mom is flying in tomorrow morning. It was the first flight she could get from Montana.”

Ben nodded. “That’ll help a lot,”
he said. “Having family and friends around at a time like this is really
important.”

We shared a comforting glance. The
past twenty-four hours had been impossibly chaotic and stressful. It felt
reassuring to be in our kitchen together with the boys upstairs playing in
their room and a delicious dinner filling the air with mouthwatering aromas.

“How are you doing?” Ben said,
refilling my wine glass. “You look pretty stressed, babe.”

I shrugged. “I’m still numb. I just
can’t even believe it happened, you know?”

“Absolutely. Especially in such a
strange and unexpected way. It’s one thing when somebody’s in their seventies
or eighties and they’ve lived a long life. But Rosemary was—what? Maybe thirty
or so? That’s just way too young.”

“And it wasn’t from natural
causes,” I said, shaking my head. “I just can’t believe that she was poisoned.”

“Have you heard anything more from
the detective?”

“No, but I left a message for him
earlier,” I answered. “There was something I needed to tell him about Sonja’s
brother.”

“Her brother?” Ben said. “I didn’t
even know she had one.”

“She doesn’t talk about him very
much. He’s basically the black sheep of her family, so I think she’s pretty
much written him off.”

“What were you going to tell the
detective about him?”

“That I actually met him today,” I
said. “Or maybe I should say that I met him again.”

Ben frowned. “What are you talking
about?”

“Sonja’s brother was the guy that
delivered the spinach dip yesterday,” I told him. “From Olive Street Café. And,
if you do the math, then…” I paused, giving Ben a chance to connect the dots.

“Then her brother was involved in
poisoning Rosemary?”

“I don’t know if we can go that far
at this point,” I said. “But it’s certainly suspicious, don’t you think?”

Ben nodded. “
Very
suspicious,” he said. “And I’ve been thinking about that a lot actually.”

“The dip?”

“Remember I told you that Brock Truscott
had claimed to be getting threats?”

I nodded.

“Well, I talked to Hal this
afternoon. He’s on the acquisition team from our office.” He paused and I
nodded again. “Anyway, Hal told me that Truscott’s pretty sure his soon-to-be
ex-wife was behind the anonymous notes he’d received.”

“Oh, come on,” I moaned. “That’s
such
a cliché.”

“Yeah, I know. But it’s also true.”

“How do you know that?”

“Hal saw one of the notes,” my
husband answered. “I guess they were in the Hamptons a couple of weeks ago for
some charity polo thing. Truscott got pretty sauced, they got to talking and he
actually showed one of the threats to Hal and a couple of the other guys.”

“And you’re being serious?”

Ben nodded. “Completely,” he said.
“Hal’s a straight up guy; he’d never lie about something like that, no matter
how much he can’t stand Truscott.”

“Truscott’s wife is so angry about
the divorce that she’s going to kill him?” I sipped my wine and ran the concept
through my mind. “
After
she writes a bunch of death threats?”

Ben shrugged. “I’m not making this
stuff up, babe,” he explained. “I’m just reporting what I heard from Hal.”

“What’s her name?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “Maybe
Lizzie Borden.” When I didn’t smile, he tried again. “Or the Wicked Witch of
the West.” He chuckled, but I didn’t join in. “She is, after all, from California.”

“This isn’t funny, Ben!” The retort
was out of my mouth before I knew it. “My friend is
dead
! And it
happened
here
in our home!”

He put down the spatula and crossed
the room. “I’m sorry, honey.” Kneeling at my feet, he gently cupped my chin in
one hand. “That was in really bad taste. I was just trying to make you smile.”

“I don’t feel like smiling,” I said
softly. “We’re suddenly smack dab in the middle of a completely bizarre
nightmare, and I just want things to be back to normal again.”

Ben leaned forward and kissed my
hands. “I think it’s going to take a while,” he said. “You’ve had a really bad
shock, Jana. And you’ve lost a good friend. You need to give yourself time to
grieve. And just forget about how it happened or why it happened.”

“But I don’t think I can,” I
protested. “If someone dies in an accident or…” I felt tears welling in my
eyes. “Or they get really sick,” I went on. “That’s something I can understand.
But this sort of...” I stopped to dry my cheeks with the napkin Ben gave me.
“It was premeditated,” I said. “Someone planned this, Ben. They got the poison.
They put it in the dip. They had it delivered to our house. And they made it
look like it was coming from Olive Street Café. Don’t you see what I’m saying?”

He nodded. “Truscott’s wife,” he
agreed. “She wasn’t just making idle threats. She really wanted to kill him.”

Another torrent of tears dampened
my face. I squeezed my husband’s hands and he was going to offer more words of
comfort when the smoke detector on the ceiling began bleating its alarm.

“Oh, crap!” Ben jumped to his feet
and rushed toward the smoking pan on the stovetop. “I forgot to turn down the
flame!”

While he attended to the scorched
chicken, I drank my wine and thought about the day. I remembered Rosemary’s husband,
sitting in his chair with a blank expression. I reflected on the other book
club members as they offered tender words of sympathy and pitched in to help
around the house. And I thought about Eve’s breathy message when she called to
tell me that she wouldn’t be joining us that afternoon. Everything was swirling
through my mind as Ben returned to my side.

“Jana?” he said softly. “Dinner’s
almost ready. Do you want another glass of wine before I bring it over?”

I shook my head. “I’m okay,” I told
him. “I just want something to eat and then about a million hours wrapped in
your arms.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips
to my forehead. “That can be arranged,” he said. “I’ll do whatever you need to
get through this, hon.”