Thanks for the inspiring words! Glad you found it worth the wait. Part 8 awaits you! :)
Crime, Thrillers & Mystery / A Pocketful of Rye - Part 7
I didn’t so much go to sleep as pass out. Not because of all the scotch, but because there’s only so much your brain can handle before it shuts down in self-defense.
I woke up and got dressed, fixed some eggs on toast and got a cab to my office. I was moving automatically, not really thinking about what I was doing. I remember speaking to Dolly, but couldn’t tell you what we said to each other.
I had a note from the inspector asking me to call him, so I pulled the phone closer to me and dialed.
“Inspector Protector, may I help you?”
“Inspector? This is Cheshire.”
“Ah! Good morning, Cheshire.”
“What have you got for me?”
“A very odd thing, indeed. It seems that Mrs. Clough died of acute ergot poisoning.”
I frowned. “That’s kind of odd. Are you sure?”
“The medical examiner was very thorough.”
“Guess we oughtta take his word for it, then. Ergot. That’s from rye, right?”
“That is correct.”
“Interesting. Hey, Inspector, how about having the doc check Otto Stemme’s symptoms, too.”
“This is the saxophonist?”
“Yeah. I’ve got a hunch.”
“Very well. I will call you later.”
“Thanks.” I hung up the phone and went downstairs to catch a cab.
The practice was progressing smoothly. The performance was in two days, and all our hard work had paid off. We actually caught Heinrich smiling once or twice.
I called the office during our break, and Br’er told me what he had found out about Odelia. Turns out that little Miss Coleridge was actually little Miss Cole. She was the king’s daughter. That explained her being a part of the orchestra despite the fact that all she did was paint her nails and twirl her hair. I felt a twinge of sympathy for Heinrich at that point. It must have been grating for him to have to put up with her lack of talent, and knowing that he couldn’t get rid of her. It also explained why the king had chosen to audition our minor orchestra for his festival.
At the lunch break, I begged off accompanying everyone to the diner, claiming that I wanted some extra time to practice. Once I was alone, I prowled through the cloak room, looking for clues.
The first thing I did was take a sample from the bottle the bassists had stashed in one of the lockers. The cheap whiskey burned my nose as I poured some into a small flask, and I capped it off quickly. I rummaged through the other lockers as quietly as possible. Heinrich and Sandra were just down the hall in his office, and I could hear them talking as they made the final adjustments to the score.
It was easy to tell which locker Odelia had appropriated, as it was stuffed with makeup products and fashion magazines. I dug through a bag filled with tubes of red lipstick, cases of rose blush, and bottles of pink and blue nail polish. Apart from a face full of talcum powder, I didn’t get anything.
I was still trying to get talc out of my watering eyes when I opened the next locker. It was almost completely filled by a long, heavy coat. I pushed it aside to make sure I didn’t overlook anything, and it gave a muffled clank against the metal divider. I carefully reached into the pocket, and pulled out a gun. It was a large-caliber piece, and was fairly heavy. I snapped it open and confirmed that it was loaded. I replaced it and checked the other pockets quickly, looking for some sort of identification or a carry permit. The only thing I found was an old laundry receipt with the initials “O.H.” on it.
So Olaf carried a gun, huh? I didn’t think that the life of a timpanist was that exciting. If nothing else, this was a sure parole violation.
A noise from the hall caught my attention, and I hurriedly replaced the receipt, closed the locker silently, and left by the outer door just as the door from the hall started to open.
I tried to keep an eye on Olaf during the rest of the rehearsal, but since he was behind me, it made it difficult. The one time I did get a good look, I found him staring back at me with narrowed eyes. I gave him a big grin and a thumb’s up and hoped he bought it.
It was early evening when I got back to the office. I picked up the phone and managed to track down the inspector. He confirmed that Otto also had ergot poisoning, but was in stable condition.
“So how come Olympia died?” I asked.
“The doctor believes that she was already in a weakened condition, which aggravated the effects of the ergot,” the inspector told me.
“That makes sense. A few days before she died, she’d apparently come down with something. She couldn’t keep any food down, and her skin was turning sort of grey.”
“That would explain it, yes.”
“But how did they get it, and not the rest of us? We all eat at the same diner almost every day.”
“I would venture to say that it was deliberate.”
“Someone tried to murder them?”
“With the dosages we have deduced, it is a strong possibility.”
“So we have a cereal killer on the loose. Well that gives me something else to go on, at least.”
“Call me if you have anything else, Mister Cat. And I will do the same.”
“Yeah. Sure, Inspector. Thanks.” I hung up.
Killers don’t often change their M.O.; they find a specialty and stick with it. This usually makes it easier for the detective trying to find them, especially if that detective is flexible. This was the conclusion I reached as I sat at my usual booth at The Well, nursing my usual drink. Johnny knew the signs when I was wrestling with a case, and didn’t bother interrupting me to ask for my order. He just brought me my usual dinner.
Olaf carried a gun, and had a record for assault. That was a bit more physical than your average poisoner liked to be. Poisoners generally preferred to stay behind the scenes, or if they were out in the open, they were almost never in charge. They generally had free access to their victims, and wouldn’t arouse any suspicions.
So my suspect list was narrowed down to everyone who wasn’t suspicious.
This was not helpful.
According to the files Br’er had managed to put together on the musicians, Olympia and Otto had no contact with each other outside of the orchestra, so the diner and the fine arts center were the two most obvious places to get at them. I couldn’t quite believe that someone would attempt to murder two people in such a public place as the diner. Besides, it was too busy at lunch to guarantee the right people would get the poison. I nursed my drink, trying to work out how it could be pulled off. Try as I might, I couldn’t come up with a scenario that involved any less than three co-conspirators, and that’s two too many for a nice quiet poisoning.
That left the center. It was a busy place, too, but only during the day. And even then, there were long periods where everybody was in the performance hall or at the diner, giving someone plenty of opportunities to sneak around.
I thought about that door opening into the cloak room earlier in the day, and wondered who had been on the other side. All of the other musicians had gone on to lunch, and the only other people on that side of the building had been Heinrich and Sandra.
Sandra.
I lit a cigarette and leaned back against the padded vinyl, blowing smoke at the ceiling and thinking.
She had reacted quickly when Olympia died. Could it have been too quickly? I remembered Sandra running toward the office phones when Olympia fell over. She went to call the ambulance, but how did she know one would be needed? Why was she running to the offices instead of to the stage to see what had happened?
Sandra had also been in the wings during the “private” conversation Heinrich had had with the violinists, and had gotten to the center early the day Otto collapsed. No. Check that. That happened the day after I met Sandra opening the center in the morning. But still, she obviously had keys, and could get in anytime she wanted.
I nodded to myself. I’d call the rabbit and have him dig a little deeper for the gofer. Seemed appropriate, somehow. I leaned forward to crush out the cigarette, and nearly burned the Bakelite on the phone that was sitting on the table in front of me. I looked over at Johnny, stationed behind the bar, and he gave me a wink.
“You think hard, your tail twitches. You make decision, it stops.” He shrugged.
“But how’d you know I decided to make a call? I could’ve decided to leave.”
Johnny laughed as if the idea was ludicrous. “Leave? Leave Johnny’s? I don’t think so! No. It is too late and you are too full of Johnny’s good food! You will stay here where it is comfortable, and call out while you have another drink. Hokay? Hokay!” He brought the drink over and cleared away the dishes.
See? Bartender with a capital “B.”
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stephanloy reviewed Version 1 -
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The style is familiar from your previous piece, Hush Little Baby. You have the hard-boiled detective voice down pat and your tongue firmly in cheek. A few questions that popped out at me, probably nothing and probably my mistakes, but doesn’t it seem odd that Inspector Protector so readily does the cat favors? Perhaps you’ve covered this in previous chapters (how did I miss them?), but cops and P.I.s traditionally have strained relations. Also, I’d like to see more of Br’er Rabbit as a character. He seems to hop on and off stage when convenient, but doesn’t really garner development. The bartender is craftily crafted in the traditional style, kind of the third party in the detective’s team.
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Lena17 reviewed Version 1 -
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FINALLY!! I am thrilled to be continuing this wonderful series with you; I’ve said it before, but you are a remarkable writer! I love your style, your characterization…everything about your settings and situations are so vivid, and you have an incredibly witty sense of humor. That’s what makes crime thrillers great: if they can make you think and laugh at the same time. =-D
So, Sandra’s a suspect, eh?? Wasn’t expecting that, nice twist. I’m still anxious to find out what happens with Deidree, but I suppose I’ll just have to wait.
Lastly, I LOVE how you’ve finally made a referrence to your title; the one for “Hush, Little Baby” was so brilliantly placed in the ending, it was inspiring. Here, I never would’ve suspected the title, being that of a simple fairytale, to possibly be the source of murder. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant! I can’t say it enough.
Looking very much forward to the next installment!! Take care, Cat.
~Jackie
EAnonymous reviewed Version 1 -
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Nicely done, C! The plot is starting to come together nicely. I loved the ‘cereal killer’ bit. Digging for the gofer was nice as well. I’m not sure ergot poisoning would produce the symptoms Olympia displayed when she died – no hallucinations or gangrene, etc. Then again, I’ve never seen it happen. Keep it up! I’m off to test how ergot poisoning actually looks. :^b
BFD reviewed Version 1 -
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When Cheshire had the thought “So my suspect list was narrowed down to everyone who wasn’t suspicious” it just so happened to be exactly what I was thinking at that exact moment…lol…cracked me up…what perfect timing with that line!
You told me this was a very tough part to get through…but Chris, you have really done a nice job on this…it is very skillfully constructed :-)
Jacamo reviewed Version 1 -
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Most interesting,Sort of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit” but not quite.Excellent character development.I would read the book.
pjgron reviewed Version 1 -
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I was going to tell you that you needed a stronger opening sentence until I looked and saw that it was part 7. Prety good, but I’m not into orchestra settings so it left me a little less interested. The writing was okay. I’m sure this appeals to others, particularly serious musicians, as opposed to Rock or Hip Hop musicians.
Pete
shivsguy reviewed Version 1 -
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Great dialogue, I like this piece, it flows well, not too rushed and it all sounds really natural, I look forward to reading some more of this when you put it up. Thanks for the read. Cheers.
jcraig9218 reviewed Version 1 -
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The story idea seems to work in creating interest. I found myself being pulled in and trying to understand what was happening. I wanted to help the narrator solve the problem.
But generally your prose misses the mark. Too much explaining and not enough action. You tell the readers things rather than showing them. For example, see the paragraph that starts: Killers don’t often change their M.O.;
Some examples of unneeded words: “It was a large-caliber piece, and was fairly heavy.” You could leave out the second “was.” Another example: “I pushed it aside to make sure I didn’t overlook anything, and it gave a muffled clank against the metal divider.” Could be shortened to: When I pushed it aside, there was a muffled clank.”
You said “cereal killer” versus “serial killer!” Kind of cute actually, but it’s the wrong word.
Lots of adverbs which are usually not a good thing, see Stephen King, On Writing. You use “quickly, hurriedly, silently,” etc.
You might try reading your stuff out loud or have someone read it out loud to you. Work on a smoother more natural flow with less words. Eliminate every one you can.
Lino reviewed Version 1 -
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I liked the atmosphere in this piece: it felt a bit like watching an old, hard-boiled flick. Nice forward momentum (sorry, don’t know the correct term (if there is one) in English) in the story too: the pace is even and well balanced, straight to the point, no-nonsense, which I think is very suitable, given the previously mentioned atmosphere of the story.
One detail:
<<>>
The “it made it” was a bit disturbing. Not much, but it did disturb the flow for a bit. Other than that, I must say I enjoyed this snippet. The style isn’t really my cup of tea, but it was nice. Thank you for sharing!
paigemc reviewed Version 1 -
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Really cute.
Liked the word play. Liked the dialogue mimicking those old gum-shoe detectives.
Interesting characters, makes it fun to play along.
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