2 A Reason for Murder (8 page)

"Cat said, 'I am not a friend, and I am not a Servant. I am the Cat who walks by himself, and I wish to come into your Cave.'"

(Rudyard Kipling, Just-So Stories)

Chapter Twelve
.

After retrieving my purse, I gingerly edged the car onto the street, but there was no sign of a speeding truck. I headed for a store I had noticed previously only a few blocks away, and purchased five packets of crackers, three packets of headache tablets, two bottles of water and three bottles of sports drink. As an afterthought, I bought a small packet of sea salt.

Back at the motel, I opened the crackers and poured the salt inside the packet, then swallowed two headache tablets with a glass of diluted sports water. The trembling had stopped. The headache on the other hand was crashing, but whether that was from the food poisoning or the caffeine withdrawal was anyone's guess.

To be on the safe side, I opened two instant coffee packets, the sort that come with motel rooms, and licked the contents of the wrappers. Instant coffee is against my religion, but this was a health issue. I lay back on the bed, and propped myself up with two pillows. I was starting to feel slightly human again. Then I texted Alfred.

Was nearly wiped out by 2 vehicles, also severe food poisoning
.

Short and to the point. I licked some salt off one of the crackers, and then ate it slowly in tiny little pieces. I turned on the free-to-air TV with the remote, surfed the channels, found nothing even barely worth watching, so settled back into the pillows to sleep and await Alfred's reply.

A few months ago when I had been in England, I had met Jamie Smith, a man who worked for an undisclosed government organization. At the same time, I had become the Keeper of an occult society, having inherited the title upon the occasion of my Great Aunt Beth's death. I still had no idea what this entailed, and I had not as yet been contacted by any members of the Society. I had flippantly asked Jamie if he worked for MI6, and he had laughed that off but did not enlighten me.

It was clear to me Jamie worked for a Torchwood-like government agency minus the aliens and plus the paranormal. A figured it must be something like cross between Secret Agent 86 and
Ghostbusters
. Jamie had worked with my aunt, although he had not told me in what capacity. In the event of an emergency, Jamie had given me a cell phone number which I was to put in my Contacts as "Alfred" along with instructions never to call Alfred, only to text.

I was in a state of half sleep when the ringtone alerted me to a sms. I checked my phone. Alfred.

Send list of symptoms. Send dates, times, locations of vehicle incidents. What are you working on? Send list of names of significant persons. Have you contacted authorities? Had medical help? Stay in motel. Do not answer the door under any circumstances
.

How did they know where I was? My brain was too fogged to figure that out. I felt I should be surprised. And was this Jamie, or the agency for which he worked?

I formulated my reply. I texted the location, date, and approximate time of when I was nearly knocked over by the car in the main street of Morpeth. Ditto for when I was nearly crushed by the truck in Maitland. I added:

"
Ni authority or medium help. Violent committee, nausea, stomach pins, headscarf, dizziness, Dhaka. Working om article re ghosts in Morpeth, researching treasury in 1840s. Gavin King, Scpty (surname unknown), Daviod Crwaley. Suspicion of man who worn in River Royal botch and seamy 2 work 4 Gsvib King
."

I then spent another five minutes correcting all my typos, and changing words that the auto correct had altered. It came out like this:

"
No authorities or medical help. Violent vomiting, nausea, stomach pains, headache, dizziness, visions. Working on article re ghosts in Morpeth, researching treasure in 1840s. Gavin King, Scotty (surname unknown), David Crawley. Suspicious of man who works in River Royal Hotel and seems 2 work 4 Gavin King
."

I pressed
Send
, and then licked some more coffee out of another packet. This reply was much faster.

"
Overheated? Blurred vision? Hallucinations? Your current state?
"

I texted back, "
Yes. Yes. yes. Mich better now. It happens Ist ight.
"

Unfortunately I sent that without correcting. The answer again was prompt.

"
Drink fluids slowly. Avoid dehydration. Eat toast or crackers. Send times of eating-drinking and persons present within 1 hour of symptoms onset
."

It hurt to think. I just wanted to sleep. The act of remembering hurt my head, all that reaching through the haze that was my mind. I'd skipped lunch. What had happened next? I'd had dinner with David. Had I eaten anything prior to that? I'd had a lime soda at the hotel, served to me by Fake Ghost Man.

I wanted to figure out time frames, but my brain did not wish to cooperate. I'd had dinner with David and had gotten sick after I'd eaten one mouthful. It was a short drive to the restaurant from the River Royal, where I'd only had one mouthful of the drink.

"
One mouthful lime soda at River Royal Hotel served by suspicious man who works for Gavin King. About 30 mins later, one mouthful vegetarian meal, with David Crawley. Symptoms 5 minutes later
."

That was typed very slowly.

No reply. I waited ten or so minutes, staring at the phone, then propped myself up in the bed with my laptop, and googled
poisons
. My first hit was the U.S. Food and Drug Administration website which had a helpful table entitled, "Onset, duration, and symptoms of foodborne illness."

I didn't have an unusual taste in my mouth or a burning feeling, so that ruled out metallic salts. Besides, I'd read all Agatha Christie's books and watched every episode of
Miss Marple
, so I was quite
au fait
with the effects of metallic salts poisoning.

Nitrate poisoning didn't sound quite right, although the symptoms included dyspnea, whatever that was. I opened another tab and discovered that dyspnea referred to shortness of breath. I hadn't experienced that. By the time I got to
yessotoxin
on the bottom of the page, I was cringing. The lists of symptoms were fairly gross.

It was only then in my highly confused fog that I realized I had been poisoned, deliberately. Disorientation was a symptom of Amnesic Shellfish Poisoning. I noted that, found it irrelevant, then tried to concentrate. Perhaps I'd been given a recreational drug, although why anyone would consider violent vomiting and seeing a giant, gray, aggressive cat the size of a Labrador as recreational was beyond me.

Back to the FDA website table. "Alfred" had said "one hour." The table was helpful. Poisons with an onset of one hour were metallic salts - ruled out - plus shellfish toxin, organic phosphate, muscaria-type mushrooms, tetradon toxins, paralytic shellfish poisoning, and an allergic reaction to histamine, monosodium glutamate, nicotinic acid. I ruled out allergic reactions in the context of deliberate poisoning.

The "minuet" sms tone again, and a reply from Alfred.

"
Probable amphetamine or methylphenidate overdose, likely intended to be fatal given yr small consumption and vehicle incidents
."

I'd pretty much come to the same conclusion, but I felt too weak to be horribly concerned. I ate half a cracker in one go and googled "amphetamine overdose symptoms," and then promptly fell asleep.

The laptop falling to the floor startled me awake. I retrieved it and checked it, and to my relief it appeared none the worse for wear although the mouse took a while to get going. I always have a mouse plugged into my laptop. I couldn't remember if I'd read about amphetamine symptoms or not. I googled "methylphenidate." Turns out it was just a long name for Ritalin. I didn't know that. I did have some of the symptoms, according to the first website I read.

A Ritalin overdose is potentially extremely dangerous and often fatal. The symptoms of a Ritalin overdose are varied and include vomiting, nausea, confusion, abdominal cramps, depression, diarrhea, fatigue, irregular heart rate, hallucinations, high fever,  high blood pressure or low blood pressure,  tremor, panic, rapid breathing, restlessness,  convulsions or coma, while additional symptoms have been reported in the scientific literature
.

I lay back in bed and tried to marshal my thoughts and force my brain to work. Someone was trying to kill me. Anyone who has access to a child with ADHD could get their hands on Ritalin. That didn't help. A pity someone hadn't poisoned me with thallium. That would have been easier to track down. Hmm, I knew something was slightly wrong with that line of thinking, but couldn't quite make it out.

Who did I suspect? The Fake Ghost Man had served me a drink. In fact, he had left the bar for few moments to get a bottle of lime. That's opportunity. What about motive? He had overheard me agreeing that Gavin King's photographs were faked. Gavin himself had told me that he had a big book deal in the works, and was worried that my article would be an exposé. But he wasn't Stephen King. I doubted any advance would be hefty, much less pay his mortgage. If then Gavin didn't have much of a motive, surely Fake Ghost Man, whom I assumed to be Gavin's assistant, would have even less of a motive.

My next suspect was David Crawley. He also had opportunity. I was in the bathroom when my food arrived at the table. What about motive? He had caught me snooping around his house, but that's hardly a motive for murder.

Then there was Scotty. He was sitting opposite me when I had the mouthful of lime soda. Had I left it unattended? No. Wait, yes I had. I had bent down and looked through my bag for a pen and notepad. That would have provided an opportunity for Scotty to spike my drink. Motive? No clue.

David was the only one who could have planned the Ritalin in advance. However, if Scotty or Suspected Fake Ghost Man had a close relative with ADHD, it is conceivable that they had Ritalin on their person. Still, that seemed quite a stretch. Suspected Fake Ghost Man could have found out that I was looking for Scotty at the River Royal and so had the drug waiting for me.

I wasn't getting anywhere, and didn't know what to do next, when Alfred decided for me.

"
As soon as you are well enough to drive, leave. Return home. Do not get out of your car until you arrive. Only go in daylight. Keep to main roads and do not take shortcuts. Will advise
."

"The Naming of cats is a difficult matter;
It isn't just one of your holiday games.
You may think at first, I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you a cat must have three different names."

(T. S. Eliot, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats)

Chapter Thirteen
.

I arrived home just after dark. I had asked Melissa to use her key to my cottage to bring Diva back and leave her in the house on her way home from work. I told Melissa I would be tired when I arrived home and wanted to go straight to bed, so it would be good if Diva was already there. Thankfully, Melissa thought it was a good idea.

Diva was highly offended that I’d been away, and turned her head away from me when I called her. When I put even more food in her bowl, she simply glared at me before eating it. There wasn't so much as a purr. I was in big trouble.

I gave up trying to apologize to Diva and turned my attention to burning frankincense, myrrh, and dragon's blood as a protection incense. I hasten to add that dragon's blood is a red resin which grows in Indonesia among other places; no dragons were harmed in the making of the incense. I'm a vegetarian after all.

I then smudged my house with white sage, being careful to get the sage right into all the corners. After that, I used the last of my air spray. I had lemongrass mixed with rose oil, vanilla, jasmine oil, and lavender oil in a spray bottle of water, and I sprayed the whole house.

I followed this with going around the house, again making sure I got into the corners and close to the wall, with my Tibetan singing bowl. The house felt awesome, better than I did. I still felt quite weak. That was a good space cleaning - fire, earth, air, water, and sound.

Now to deal with my unseen enemy. I consulted Catherine Yronwode’s Hoodoo book and found that a mixture of dill and salt sprinkled around the house will reverse jinxes. I dutifully mixed dill and sea salt and sprinkled it all over the house. White clover flowers also protect from evil and bring an end to crossed conditions, so I took some of those out of a bottle too and sprinkled them around.

I then searched through the Drafts folder on my email which serves as a Book of Shadows of sorts, and found some reversal spells.

The Hoodoo book said that dried nettle was a strong jinx breaker, so I made a note to pick some tomorrow and dry it. I had some in the yard, which I'd found to my discomfort when I'd gone to call Diva inside the other week.

Then I went to my dried herbs and selected some lemongrass and bergamot mint and made a cold water brew.

I added some dried rue to my homemade bath salts mixture which had sea salt, Epsom salts, dill, hyssop, and sandalwood. I poured some of the lemongrass and bergamot brew into the bath.

The bath was heavenly and a very pretty shade of pale green. I looked at the time. 7:24 p.m. Oh no. The X Factor started at 7.35, and it was elimination night. No time to linger in the bath as well as do a reversal spell and catch the X Factor. I thought my favorite singer was in danger of being eliminated tonight.

With no thought as to my priorities being somewhat twisted, I hopped out of the bath and headed to the little room next to my bedroom.

I gathered my bits of paper with the spells written them on, and black candle, checked that I had everything I needed, and then cast a circle. I smudged the candle I was about to use, consecrated it and charged it for reversal. I cut off its bottom end and pulled the wick through so I could turn it upside down.

I have a natural thorn for writing on candles, but didn’t want to use my thorn for a reversal spell, so used the nail scissors I keep for such things. No, I don’t use them for cutting my toenails; I have another set for that.

I wrote the words "Unseen Enemy" on the candle, and then set it alight. I said,

“
The cord between us was long

The cord between us was strong

But now is decaying, fraying, burning, breaking
.”

As I said these words, I held a red ribbon over the flame. It instantly burned in half.

I continued,

“
The link is broken.

Powers, thoughts and words spoken

Likewise have no power
.”

For good measure, I added,

“
Anyone who causes harm,

I work this spell and your evil disarm.

You are from this moment stopped

My power can never be stopped.

Divine justice works for me

Never victorious can you ever be

Anyone of evil intent

Your work against me is torn and rent

This I declare with harm to none

So mote it be, my will be done!
”

I then closed the circle, wrapped a fluffy, lavender scented white towel around me, and went downstairs to watch X Factor. My favorite singer was in the bottom two but wasn’t eliminated. I fell asleep on the sofa half way through
Criminal Intent
, and woke up with a headache. Diva was sitting close by watching me, and when I reached out to stroke her, she ran away. I guess I was still in her bad books.

I was pouring a small glass of red when Melissa called. I couldn't tell her the truth, so, after thanking her profusely for minding Diva, simply said I was recovering from food poisoning.

"Oh that's awful. Are you okay? I'm worried about you. Look, I'll let you go then. Call me when you feel better."

"No, no, I'm fine now. Well, much better anyway. We can talk." I didn't feel well enough to chat, but I was relieved to chat with Melissa after our frosty discussion in Melbourne.

"I just called to get your help with an article I have to write on Samhain, but I can call back tomorrow."

"No, I'm fine, really. Go on." I sipped the wine.

"My angle is that in the Northern Hemisphere, Halloween falls around Samhain, but in the Southern Hemisphere at the very same time it's Beltane, and I want to write on the difficulties of that, collective consciousness and so on."

"Yup." I sipped some more wine and hoped it was considered hydration.

"I've read that the veil is thin at Samhain, the veil between the land of the living and the land of the spirits."

"Yup." Sip. Sip.

"Is there really a veil? Or is it metaphorical?"

I tried to think. "Dunno. I've heard some say that it simply means that we can be more aware of the spirits at this time. I do know a lady who insists it's a real veil. I don't know much about it. Is Skinny giving you a hard time?" My voice trailed off. Speaking was an effort.

"No, not over this. She doesn't know that I'm a step ahead of her anyway."

I knew this was a reference to Melissa's secret relationship with Keith, the owner of the magazine. "Has she mentioned firing me again?"

"Not as far as I know, but I'll keep you posted."

I murmured my thanks.

"I want to use it in my novel, too." Melissa was writing a feminist, paranormal romance novel. I doubted she'd ever finish it, as she seemed to spend more time reading up on the theory.

"How's that coming along?"

"I've decided I don't want to use Phlebotinum in it, and that will be hard as it's a paranormal romance."

I was taken aback. "What on earth is Phleb, phelb, err, otinum?"

"You know, a device that doesn't exist in real life but which is used to further the plot, such as Doctor Who's sonic screwdriver, that sort of thing. That reminds me, I know who River Song is; I know all there is to know about her now."

I had known who River Song was for some years, and so, I assumed, did the rest of the world, but I didn't want to hurt Melissa's feelings. She was so behind the times with TV. "No spoilers, Melissa," I said with amusement. "I haven't downloaded the newest ones from the U.K. yet. Why can't you use that Phelb word for your novel?"

"Phlebotinum. I could use it if I wanted to, but I'd rather not. I'm not even going to take the high ground and use Aesoptinum."

I resisted the urge to ask, said I'd call the next day, and hung up.

I got out my packet of crackers and bookmarked
Millionaire Matchmaker
and
Murdoch Mysteries
to watch on cable that night. I fell asleep again sometime in
Millionaire Matchmaker
and woke up after it was over, disappointed that I hadn't recorded it and wouldn't discover if Patti had chased one of the millionaires out of her office.

I fell back to sleep and had the most ghastly nightmare about men in black hoods and cloaks. It was one of those dreams where you're sure while you are dreaming that it was real life and not a dream. I was awoken by a knock at the door. I wasn't about to answer it; I've seen enough horror movies to know not to do that. I also wasn't silly enough to say, "Who's there?" That always annoys me when they do that in movies.

I held my breath, muted the TV, and waited. No more knocking. That wasn't a good sign. Thankfully I knew all the doors and windows were locked as I had done that as soon as I had arrived home. I'd also looked under the beds and in the closet for criminals, and in the kitchen cupboards for very short criminals. You can't be too careful. I've seen every episode of
Game of Thrones
.

After about half an hour or so, I picked up my golf driving iron and gingerly opened the front door slightly, and then peeked around.