The Ginseng Conspiracy (A Kay Driscoll Mystery) by Susan Bernhardt Page B

over for lunch on Friday,” I said.
    “I have a great idea,” Deirdre said. “Just the other day, I read an article that dealt with determining murderers through horoscopes.” Elizabeth glanced over in my direction. “The idea was discussed in terms of aspects. An aspect is an astrological term for angular separation. You take angles of various degrees and these hard aspects are associated with problems and dysfunctions in life. An example would be…for example...in an aspect to Mars. Mars is a planet of action and aggression which is an indicator of violence. On the other hand...”
    Geez, how long is she going to go on? I continued listening.
    “...Pluto is the ruler of death and intensifies whatever it touches. A person’s horoscope is also influenced by the placement of the Moon. You take that person's aspects—”
    “Mmmm...this caramel rum raisin sauce is fabulous,” Elizabeth said all of a sudden.
    “I know what you mean. Marissa caramelizes these apples so well,” Deirdre said, looking at Elizabeth.
    “And the chocolate ganache…yum,” I added. “Deirdre, wouldn't you need to have the birthdates of the murderers?”
    “The madeleines are delicious, too,” Elizabeth said.
    “I wonder what Dr. Anders' birth date is?” Deirdre asked in a low voice, almost to herself.
    I looked up at Deirdre and raised an eyebrow.
    “We better make sure we go for an extra long walk tomorrow,” Elizabeth said as Marissa hobbled back into the room.
    She put RESERVED signs on the three tables nearest us, came over and said, “Just wanted to let you know, Bill Murphy and a couple of other officers are in the main dining room on their break. I'm putting the reserved signs on these tables so the three of you can have your privacy. There aren't many customers today anyway. Not sure what is going on here, but I’ve heard some bits and pieces with a few names dropped.”
    “Thanks, Marissa. Are we talking too loudly?” Elizabeth asked.
    “No, but I just want to make sure you have your privacy. Okay, then.” Marissa started walking away and then turned around. “How did you like the madeleines?”
    “You have a winning recipe,” I said, and Marissa left the room.
    “We should try and keep Margaret's and Al's homes under some kind of surveillance to watch for activity,” I said. “At some point, I would think we would see something suspicious going on.”
    We decided to have a stakeout on Saturday since Phil and Mike would be helping out at the Fantasy Jazz Camp in St. Paul over the weekend.
    “By the way, why is the music camp called a Fantasy Jazz Camp?” Elizabeth asked.
    I shrugged my shoulders. “Phil's been talking about it all week. Something about players and singers of all skill levels and experience are welcome. Tapes or auditions aren't required so anyone can participate.”
    “Interesting,” Elizabeth said without a bit of interest in her voice. “We should leave early in the morning on Saturday. I have an overnight wilderness team building program for the library to go to around noon. You'll need to stay on after that by yourselves.”
    “Elizabeth, when do you work at the college next?” I asked.
    “Monday.”
    “Is there some way you could get more details about the book Sherman was working on?”
    “Sure. I know most of the professors in Sherman's department, some quite well. I used to date a few.”
    Deirdre looked at me and rolled her eyes.
    Elizabeth smiled, looking between the two of us. “I'll see what I can uncover about Sherman's research and what he may have discovered.”
    When we were getting up to leave the patisserie, I noticed a police officer, who must have been on break with Bill Murphy, limping down the hall on his way to the restroom. All of a sudden, I was seeing limpers everywhere.
    “Do either of you know who that cop is?” I motioned with my head towards the police officer. “He's limping.”
    Deirdre shook her head and looked over at Elizabeth.
    “I don't