Sorority Sister (8 page)

Later in the morning, Maxie was approached by Holly Dukes, also with an eye toward taking Cath’s place at Omega house. But this time, she dispatched the Omega wannabe even more swiftly than she had Isabella.

Vultures! she thought angrily, stomping away from Holly. We were right to vote against both of them.

But just how far would either of the girls go to get into the house, Maxie wondered. Head down against the wind, she made her way to the student center to meet Candie for lunch. Was there violence in Isabella or Holly? Isabella’s dark eyes had a flat, cruel look to them. Holly might
seem
shy, but hadn’t she, too, tracked Maxie down on campus to see about her chances of taking Cath’s place? Her determination seemed to be overcoming her shyness. How determined
was
she? And what could that determination drive her to do?

A few feet away from the entrance to the student center, Maxie saw Candie standing under a huge old tree, the wind blowing her reddish-brown hair around her face. But she wasn’t alone. She was with someone, and she was arguing.

Peering more closely at the pair from a distance, Maxie recognized the tall, broad-shouldered guy Candie was arguing with. Graham Lucas, the very person who had been pestering Candie with notes and flowers and phone calls.

Why was Candie even
talking
to him? A feeling of dread swept over Maxie. They had all agreed, when Candie told them what was going on, that the best tactic was to ignore Graham, thinking that eventually he’d give up and go away.

Except, he hadn’t. Candie had told Graham about Dylan, but he didn’t seem to care that she already had a boyfriend. Candie said he was still phoning repeatedly and sending her little notes.

What Maxie didn’t understand was why Graham hadn’t given up. Candie was beautiful ‘ and fun and smart, but so were other girls on campus. His refusal to take the hint — even the insults — of Candie, and keep hanging on, wasn’t …
normal.

Maxie hurried over to them. “C’mon, Candie,” she urged, barely glancing at Graham, “let’s go!”

As they hurried away, Maxie glanced over her shoulder. Graham was staring after them, his eyes narrowed, his face scarlet with rage.

“Whoa!” she said to Candie, “stay
away
from that guy, okay? He looks like he’s about to pop a few blood vessels. Why were you even talking to him?”

“I was just about to go into the center when I heard someone calling me. When I saw that it was him, I was going to keep going, but he yelled that he had some news about Cath, so I walked over to see what it was. And of
course
he didn’t know a thing about Cath. He just wanted to know why I hadn’t been taking his phone calls.” Candie laughed softly. “I told him it was because talking to him on the phone was worse than going to the dentist.”

“Candie! You shouldn’t antagonize him. He looked so furious back there.”

Candie shrugged and pulled open the door to the student center. “You
have
to be rude to guys like that. It’s the only thing they understand. If you’re nice, they’re harder to get rid of than fungus.”

Maybe, Maxie thought as they joined Jenna, waiting at a table by the window in the small, cozy cafe. But Candie had
been
rude to Graham. More than once. So why hadn’t he disappeared?

Late that afternoon, when only a naive new sister named Chloe Bannister was in the house, the doorbell rang.

Chloe opened the front door to see a young man in a white uniform, armed with a red canister, standing on the front porch.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Thick red hair showed under his white cap as he adjusted his sunglasses. “Yes, ma’am. Actually, I’m here to help
you.
I’m with ZAPCO Exterminators. You were expecting me, right?”

“Oh, yes.” Chloe opened the door wider, then remembered the procedure they’d been warned to follow. “Could I see your identification, please?” she asked politely.

“Sure. No problem.” The young man reached into a back pocket and pulled out a vinyl card case, flipped it open and held it out.

Chloe read it carefully. Nodded. “I guess it’s okay. If you need anything, I’ll be in the living room.”

“Thank you,” the exterminator said and, whistling a cheerful tune, began marching through the house.

W
HEN
M
AXIE GOT HOME
, Erica was in her room, studying. She had already called the hospital to see how Cath was doing. “She’s awake and feeling better, but she’ll probably be there another four or five days.”

Her tone of voice was so despondent, Maxie felt compelled to say, “It wasn’t your fault, Erica. Someone tampered with the bricks. Have the police been here yet?”

“No. They’re coming after dinner. We’re all supposed to be here. They’ll want to talk to everyone.” Erica sighed heavily. “Not that we have any answers.” Then, “Did you see the new peephole?”

“What new peephole?”

“On the front door. Tuttle put it in, so we can see who’s out on the porch before we open the door. And he put a new chain lock on the door, too. But,” Erica’s mouth turned downward, “that’s all the university would spring for right now. According to Mildred, the Dean said there wasn’t any real evidence of a pressing need for more security.” Her grimace deepened. “I guess he means, there aren’t any dead bodies lying around the house.”

Not
yet,
Maxie thought involuntarily, and quickly banished the thought from her mind. “Maybe the Dean will change her mind after the police tell her the wall around the fountain was deliberately tampered with.”

“Don’t hold your breath. She might just point out that the wall is
outside,
so what good would installing a security system
inside
the house do?”

Tired of the whole subject, Maxie asked, “Brendan hasn’t called, has he?”

“No. Was he supposed to?”

“I guess not,” Maxie answered vaguely, and thought, Liar! He was
definitely
supposed to call. To deliver an apology for not being more supportive. If you couldn’t turn to your boyfriend when things were going wrong, who could you turn to?

Dinner was a gloomy affair. There seemed to Maxie to be two groups of people at the table: those who ate for comfort because they were uneasy about the upcoming visit by the police, and those who couldn’t eat at all, for exactly the same reason. Maxie was in the latter group. She barely touched her food.

As she and Tinker began carrying plates to the kitchen, Tinker muttered, “I wish they’d hurry up and get here. The sooner we get this over with, the faster things will return to normal in this house. We’re all walking around like this place is full of land mines.”

“Because that’s the way it
feels,”
Maxie agreed.

“Well, I think it’s getting to me,” Tinker said, dropping her stack of plates on the kitchen counter. “I don’t feel so hot.” Her hands went to her stomach. “Can you finish here? I — ” she turned suddenly and ran from the room. Maxie heard her feet pounding up the stairs.

Tinker, sick? Tinker was never sick.

Before Maxie could go after Tinker to check on her, the doorbell rang. Maxie hurried out to answer it. Using the peephole felt strange, as if she were studying someone under a microscope. Two uniformed police officers, a man and a woman, were waiting on the front porch. The woman held up a gold badge. As far as Maxie could tell, it was an authentic police badge, so she let them in.

She closed the door when they were inside, turned around, and came face-to-face with Erica, who had come to greet the two officers.

But the sorority’s president couldn’t even manage a “hello.” She was clearly ill. She looked terrible. Her face was contorted in pain and had a greenish pallor to it. A fine sheen of sweat covered her skin, and her hands were placed protectively over her stomach.

“Erica?” Maxie said, moving toward her, “what’s wrong?” But before she reached the spot where Erica stood with her face twisted in agony, Erica’s knees buckled, and she crumpled to the floor, writhing in pain.

As the officers moved to Erica’s side, Tinker and Candie came into the foyer, both walking unsteadily, their faces the same color as Erica’s. Tinker held one hand to her mouth, the other pressed against her stomach. Candie leaned heavily on the railing as they struggled up the stairs. The sound of a door closing on the second floor was followed by painful retching sounds.

The kitchen door opened as Mildred emerged to clear the rest of the dishes from the dining room. When she saw Erica lying on her back, her knees drawn up against what was obviously severe pain, she rushed to kneel beside the fallen girl. “What’s happening?” she cried. “Maxie, what is
wrong
with Erica?”

Before Maxie could answer honestly that she didn’t know, two more girls came staggering out of the kitchen, groaning.

Mildred took one look at them and said urgently to the police officers, “You’d better get an ambulance over here. Something is terribly wrong.”

One of the officers went outside to make the call. The other stayed behind, taking Erica’s pulse, asking Maxie to go get a glass of water.

When she returned, Mildred lifted her head to ask, “Maxie, what
is
this? What’s happened? Erica looks like she’s …like she’s
dying
!”

“So do the others,” Maxie agreed. “Tinker and Candie, and Morgan and Sarah.” A trio of girls made their way out of the kitchen and into the living room, where they flopped on a pair of leather couches. “And Sheila and Dennie and Nita don’t look so hot, either.”

“But … but
you’re
not sick, Maxie?” Mildred asked with concern.

Erica groaned. She seemed to be having trouble breathing, and she drew her knees up even closer to her stomach.

“No. I’m not. But … ” Maxie was too confused to think straight, but one solid thought slipped into her mind … “but I didn’t eat anything at dinner. Everyone who’s sick
did.
I remember Nita and Dennie especially saying how good it tasted, and Erica and Candie taking second helpings.”

“Dinner?” Mildred paled. “The spaghetti?”

Maxie nodded.

“Well, it couldn’t have been that,” Mildred said. “I made it myself. The meat was fresh, and so was the sauce. There couldn’t have been anything wrong with it.”

“Any of it left?” the policeman asked.

“Yes. I put the leftovers in the frig.” Mildred led him out into the kitchen. Maxie followed them to wet a cloth for Erica’s forehead.

The officer took the plastic-covered bowl off its shelf. He lifted the plastic wrap and sniffed.

“Any objection if I take this with me, ma’am?” the officer asked, holding up the bowl.

“Oh, heavens,” Mildred murmured, “if there’s anything wrong with something I cooked, if that’s what made my girls sick,
I
… ”

“It probably isn’t, Mrs. B.,” Maxie said hastily. “But he should check it anyway, right? Just to prove that it
wasn’t
the spaghetti. It’s probably just a flu bug or something, really.” But as she went upstairs to check on Tinker and Candie, she knew she hadn’t meant a word of it. She didn’t really believe it was a bug. What kind of “bug” would hit so many people at exactly the same moment, or do so much damage?

Tinker and Candie were in bad shape.

It seemed to Maxie that it was hours before the ambulance came shrieking up the driveway. And even more hours before a doctor came into the emergency waiting room at the hospital to tell Mildred and the girls who hadn’t eaten dinner that they had stabilized all of the patients.

“Looks like botulism,” he told a hand-wringing Mildred. “They must have eaten something that was spoiled. Home-canned, maybe?”

“No, no,” Mildred said frantically, “that’s not possible! That meat was fresh, the sauce was fresh … it couldn’t be botulism!”

“What’s botulism?” a girl named Nancy, who hadn’t eaten, asked.

“Comes from home-canned foods that go bad, usually,” the doctor said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t can the tomatoes yourself?” he asked Mildred.

“No. The tomatoes were fresh”

“Didn’t let the meat thaw on the counter?”

Ashen-faced Mildred answered firmly, “No. I always thaw meat in the refrigerator. I know what I’m
doing
in the kitchen, doctor.”

The doctor nodded absentmindedly, seemingly unaware of Mildred’s anxious state of mind. Telling them he was keeping everyone overnight, adding that they should know by the following day what had made the girls sick, he left, a puzzled frown on his face.

The two police officers, who had accompanied them to the hospital, approached the worried group.

“Couldn’t help overhearing,” the male officer said. “If it isn’t what that doctor said he thought it was, botulism, any idea what it might be?”

They all shook their heads no.

“Had to be in the food,” the female officer said. “The ones who ate dinner got sick, the ones who didn’t are okay. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that it was the food, all right. But,” she added kindly, addressing her comment to Mildred, “that doesn’t mean it was something you did wrong. Could be someone added to your seasoning, if you get my meaning.”

Mildred looked at her as if she had just stepped out of a spaceship. “Excuse me?”

Maxie held her breath. She wasn’t going to like what the officer was going to say, she could feel it.

“Well, ma’am, we came to your house in the first place tonight because someone landed in the hospital, right? We haven’t had a chance to check things out yet. But if it wasn’t an accident …well, all I’m getting at is, if someone sent
that
girl to the hospital, maybe someone sent these other girls to the hospital, too. Anyone in your house today with access to that spaghetti?”

Maxie’s stomach rolled over.

Mildred wasn’t happy about it, either. “I … just the girls,” she said weakly. Then she added, “Oh, well an exterminator came but … ”

The female police officer looked interested. “Exterminator, ma’am?”

“Yes. We had a … a slight ant problem. I called ZAPCO, the company I use regularly, and they sent a young man out today. I wasn’t home at the time, but Chloe let him in, didn’t you, Chloe? What did you say his name was, dear? A Mr. Dillon?”