Death Come Quickly by Susan Wittig Albert

muscles around her mouth had tightened and her eyes had a flat, hard look, a cop look.
    â€œKaren Prior died a little while ago, in surgery. We’re not dealing with simple assault now. This is a murder investigation.”

Chapter Four
    In the traditional folklore of plants, some have a reputation for being unlucky when picked. One of these is Herb Robert ( Geranium robertianum ), a low-growing wild geranium with reddish-pink blooms, red stems, and leaves that turn red late in the growing season. Throughout England, the plant is said to belong to Robin Goodfellow, or Puck, a rascally house goblin or nature sprite who makes it his business to cause trouble. (The name Robin is a familiar form of Robert.)
    In the north of England, Herb Robert is known as “death come quickly” and was thought to be a certain harbinger of death. In the county of Somerset, children were warned, “If you pick Herb Robert, the goblin will come and carry you off.”
    China Bayles
“Herbs of Good and Ill Omen”
Pecan Springs Enterprise

    Karen was . . . dead? My stomach muscles knotted. “Oh, no!” I exclaimed.
    â€œOh, God,” Ruby whispered. “That’s
terrible
! Oh, poor Felicity! She was close to her mother—losing her will be so hard!”
    There was a long silence while all three of us tried to deal with the news. I don’t know about the others’ feelings, but I was coping with a jumble of fury, grief, and an almost physical pain.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Sheila muttered. “I am . . . so sorry.”
    I understood. Every good cop I have ever known has hated the senseless loss of a life. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was blaming herself for Karen’s death. It might be unreasonable, but good cops do that, too.
    Trying to steady my voice, I turned to Ruby. “Was Kitt calling to tell you about Karen?”
    Ruby shook her head. “No. I don’t think . . .” She paused, gulped once, started again. “I don’t think she knows about Karen yet. She was calling to ask if I’d seen Gretchen today. The two of them were supposed to get together this morning in the media lab, to work on editing their film. They were going to meet Sheila later this afternoon. But Gretchen never showed up. Kitt’s been calling her cell, but there’s no answer. She’s called friends, too. Nobody’s seen her.”
    Sheila and I exchanged glances, and Sheila’s mouth tightened. “Has Kitt turned in a report to the police?”
    â€œI asked her, but she said she thought there was some sort of waiting period on missing persons—twenty-four hours or something. I told her you were here and that I’d find out and call her right back.”
    â€œThere’s no waiting period,” Sheila replied shortly. “And given Gretchen’s connection to Dr. Prior, I think we need to open a search as soon as possible. I suppose Kitt has checked with Gretchen’s parents?”
    â€œI asked,” Ruby replied, “but Kitt said there’s no point in trying. They’re out of town and almost impossible to reach.”
    â€œThe Keenes are doing anthropological fieldwork,” I put in. “Both of them. They’re in Belize, in the jungle, and won’t be back for another two weeks. But Jake—Gretchen’s younger sister—is here in Pecan Springs. She had supper with us last night. She’s the one who told me about the phone call Kitt recorded.”
    I remembered that the two Keene daughters, Gretchen and Jake, were staying by themselves, with a next-door neighbor to look in on them. Which was certainly okay, since both girls were responsible young people, old enough to manage by themselves, in ordinary circumstances. This particular circumstance did not sound at all ordinary. Maybe I should—
    â€œLet’s not panic,” Sheila cautioned. “The girl probably just forgot