Read Online Heaven Preserve Us by Cricket McRae - Free Book Online Page B

immediately. "It was a hang up"
Her forehead creased. "Again"
    "Again?"
    "There were two of them last night when you were at the hospital. Reads `private call' on the caller ID."
    Crap. "I bet its Allen, or whatever his name is."
    "Probably. Next time it rings, you get it. Try to get him to stop,
okay?"
    Erin returned, laden with full backpack and clad in full winter
weather garb. "C'mon, Mom" Her voice held no doubt as to what
she thought of a mother who promised they could leave at sixforty-five and then couldn't get it together in time.
     
    Meghan hustled into the hallway, scooping up a pair of boots
on the way to the bench by the door. "Grab your lunch out of the
fridge and we'll go," she called as she speed-laced her footwear.
    Erin rolled her eyes at me, grabbed her lunch, said goodbye,
and they were out the door.
    Try to get Allen to stop? Sheesh. What a great idea, Megs. I took
my coffee and went down to my workroom.

    My desktop computer sat in the corner of my storeroom. Since I
do a lot of my Winding Road business via the Internet, I spend a
lot of time down there. There was one small window that didn't
open but allowed in some natural light, and I loved the smell of
the soaps curing on the shelves. It also made it easy to ascertain the
availability of the different toiletries in my repertoire, so I wasn't
popping up to check every time I had to create a packing list or
order supplies.
    The morning was still pitch black outside. I switched on the
little desk lamp and booted up the computer. Once it was online, I
plugged the words "botulism symptoms causes" into the search
engine and began to read.
    Pretty nasty stuff. Slurred speech, nausea and vomiting, disturbed vision, and possible death due to paralysis, especially that
of the respiratory system.
    I thought of Philip Heaven, struggling for breath, his body refusing to cooperate. He'd basically suffocated to death. The thought
made the coffee sour in my stomach. As a mild claustrophobe, I
thought that would be a particularly awful way to go.
     
    The most common way to get botulism was via home-canned
food. It was fairly rare anymore and usually found in low-acid foods
like beans or corn-things that anyone who does much home canning knows you have to put through a pressure canner.
    I thought back to the offerings at the preserves exchange. Bette
had brought some salmon from her annual trip to Alaska. Ruth
had provided those beets, so beautiful in their jars or on the plate
but not so attractive splattered all over the Heaven House floor,
Maryjake Dreggle-and my shoes. Maryjake had brought jars of
lovely golden corn which I happened to know came from a little
roadside stand south of town and was the best I'd ever eaten, as
well as green beans from her own garden. Had there been anything else that would need a pressure canner? I could only think
of the pickles and jellies, fruits and chutneys, all of which were at
relatively low risk.
    Wait a minute. Philip had died before the preserves exchange.
Maybe none of those items were even suspect. Maybe he'd eaten a
can of grocery store soup from a damaged can. I'd always thought
my grandmother was paranoid when she'd throw out any can that
was the least bit dented. Now I had to admit she probably knew
more about the possible dangers than I'd ever considered.
    No one had eaten anything at the exchange that I knew of, including Barr. But thinking back, he hadn't looked so great when
he'd shown up.
    Philip and Barr hardly knew each other. How had they both ...
wait a minute. Slow down, Sophie Mae. No one had said Philip had
died from botulism poisoning. Not yet.
    But his symptoms were right on. And it wasn't like anyone
would be calling me up once they found out, either. I needed more information. Official information, through unofficial channels.
This time Barr was out of the loop, but I had an idea. Checking my
watch I saw it was already eight a.m., an hour before Miss