then. They just knew it worked.” I inhaled the fragrance of the roses. “The scent was thought to relieve headaches and encourage sleep, too. Early aromatherapy. And it still works.”
With a glance over her shoulder, Ruby lowered her voice. “Did you notice the way Winnie avoided my question about Coleman? She must know something.”
“If she does, I doubt if Marvin Wallace could get it out of her,” I said, with a certain satisfaction.
Ruby nodded. “No matter how much Council members may know about Coleman, they aren’t going to tell a Ranger.” She looked up as Winnie came toward us. “Oh, goodie! Jam cakes!”
Winnie put the tray on the table and handed me a damp cheesecloth pad, folded into a poultice. “Hold this across your nose and under your eyes,” she instructed.
“Rose petals?” I asked, taking it.
“Right.” Winnie set three glasses and a pitcher on the table, followed by a plate of jam cakes decorated with fresh mint leaves and a single white rose. “In India, they use roses to treat abrasions and inflammations.” She grinned. “I’d say you’ve got one hell of an inflamed nose, China. Comes from sticking it into somebody’s business, I don’t doubt.”
“Thanks,” I said wryly, pasting the damp, cool poultice to my face. “You sure know how to make a person feel better.”
“I’d make you lie down with it,” Winnie replied, “but you need to eat some of that jam cake. More good medicine. It’ll make you feel even better.”
It did, too. The poultice was awkward but cooling and the rosehip tea was iced and tasty, with the zing of ginger and a hint of anise. The jam cakes were light and luscious, and Winnie’s rose jam, hidden inside, was the color of rubies. We said little as we ate. The taste was too good to spoil with the rattle of words.
After a few moments, Winnie refilled all three glasses from the frosty pitcher, sat back in her chair and said casually, “When I came in with the tray, you were talking about Edgar Coleman.” She looked at me. “Has Mike got a line on the killer yet?”
With a start, I realized that Winnie, by virtue of her seat on the Council, was also one of McQuaid’s bosses. “Not yet,” I replied. “It looks like the investigation might drag on for a while.”
“Which is why we’re here, Winnie.” Ruby said, getting to the point. “The wedding is Sunday, you know.”
Winnie looked at me. “Well, sure. But what’s that got to do with—” Then she snapped her fingers. “Oh, I get it. If Mike doesn’t wrap up his investigation by Sunday, you’re afraid he’ll stand you up.”
I winced. I turned the compress over to the cool side and held it over my nose, which was beginning to feel better. “I’m sure he won’t miss the wedding,” I said in a muffled voice, “but it might not have his full attention.” I didn’t want to think of McQuaid standing beside me, wearing his cop face and mentally sifting murder clues while Maude Porterfield joined us in holy matrimony. He might just mutter, “I don’t know,” instead of “I do.”
“Their honeymoon might have to be postponed, too,” Ruby said, looking mournful. “You can see why we’re anxious to find out what happened. And we’re not sure that everybody will come clean to the police.” She paused. “Everybody on the Council, that is,” she added, in a silky tone.
Winnie sat still for a moment, turning the matter over in her mind. “Well, you’re right on that score,” she said finally. “Most of the Council members wouldn’t tell you the time of day unless it was in their best interest.” She frowned. “But how come you’re asking about the Council? Coleman had enemies all over town—across the state, for that matter. He was not what you would call a popular person.”
Instead of answering, Ruby said, “You voted against the annexation proposal, I understand.”
“You bet I did.” Winnie thumped her glass on the table, and one of the white roses,
With a glance over her shoulder, Ruby lowered her voice. “Did you notice the way Winnie avoided my question about Coleman? She must know something.”
“If she does, I doubt if Marvin Wallace could get it out of her,” I said, with a certain satisfaction.
Ruby nodded. “No matter how much Council members may know about Coleman, they aren’t going to tell a Ranger.” She looked up as Winnie came toward us. “Oh, goodie! Jam cakes!”
Winnie put the tray on the table and handed me a damp cheesecloth pad, folded into a poultice. “Hold this across your nose and under your eyes,” she instructed.
“Rose petals?” I asked, taking it.
“Right.” Winnie set three glasses and a pitcher on the table, followed by a plate of jam cakes decorated with fresh mint leaves and a single white rose. “In India, they use roses to treat abrasions and inflammations.” She grinned. “I’d say you’ve got one hell of an inflamed nose, China. Comes from sticking it into somebody’s business, I don’t doubt.”
“Thanks,” I said wryly, pasting the damp, cool poultice to my face. “You sure know how to make a person feel better.”
“I’d make you lie down with it,” Winnie replied, “but you need to eat some of that jam cake. More good medicine. It’ll make you feel even better.”
It did, too. The poultice was awkward but cooling and the rosehip tea was iced and tasty, with the zing of ginger and a hint of anise. The jam cakes were light and luscious, and Winnie’s rose jam, hidden inside, was the color of rubies. We said little as we ate. The taste was too good to spoil with the rattle of words.
After a few moments, Winnie refilled all three glasses from the frosty pitcher, sat back in her chair and said casually, “When I came in with the tray, you were talking about Edgar Coleman.” She looked at me. “Has Mike got a line on the killer yet?”
With a start, I realized that Winnie, by virtue of her seat on the Council, was also one of McQuaid’s bosses. “Not yet,” I replied. “It looks like the investigation might drag on for a while.”
“Which is why we’re here, Winnie.” Ruby said, getting to the point. “The wedding is Sunday, you know.”
Winnie looked at me. “Well, sure. But what’s that got to do with—” Then she snapped her fingers. “Oh, I get it. If Mike doesn’t wrap up his investigation by Sunday, you’re afraid he’ll stand you up.”
I winced. I turned the compress over to the cool side and held it over my nose, which was beginning to feel better. “I’m sure he won’t miss the wedding,” I said in a muffled voice, “but it might not have his full attention.” I didn’t want to think of McQuaid standing beside me, wearing his cop face and mentally sifting murder clues while Maude Porterfield joined us in holy matrimony. He might just mutter, “I don’t know,” instead of “I do.”
“Their honeymoon might have to be postponed, too,” Ruby said, looking mournful. “You can see why we’re anxious to find out what happened. And we’re not sure that everybody will come clean to the police.” She paused. “Everybody on the Council, that is,” she added, in a silky tone.
Winnie sat still for a moment, turning the matter over in her mind. “Well, you’re right on that score,” she said finally. “Most of the Council members wouldn’t tell you the time of day unless it was in their best interest.” She frowned. “But how come you’re asking about the Council? Coleman had enemies all over town—across the state, for that matter. He was not what you would call a popular person.”
Instead of answering, Ruby said, “You voted against the annexation proposal, I understand.”
“You bet I did.” Winnie thumped her glass on the table, and one of the white roses,
Similar Books
