Almost Dead (Lizzy Gardner #5)(83)

“You bet I have.”

“Do you remember the Ambassador Club?” Jessica asked.

“How could I forget?”

The woman disappeared. They could hear cupboards being opened and closed in her small kitchen. She came back minutes later with a plastic pitcher filled with some god-awful-looking foggy-yellow concoction and three glasses.

Jessica leaned back into the couch as if the pitcher were filled with acid and Tracy might suddenly toss it at them.

Hayley took over. “Are you aware that more than half of the thirteen members of the Ambassador Club have perished recently?”

“I am,” Tracy answered with a smile. “I can only hope that the person responsible finds a way to get all of them.”

“Are you saying you’re not disturbed by any of this?” Jessica asked.

“That’s what I’m saying. Every time I turn on the news and see that another member is gone, I celebrate. I kick my shoes off and do a little jig right here in this very room.”

“What did they do to you?” Jessica asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Tracy Carson pulled her sweater tight around her waist and then took a seat in a La-Z-Boy close by. “But I won’t talk about it. Not to anyone. Most times I make believe it didn’t happen at all. The memories, though . . . the memories live in me like a tumor that’s too close to vital organs, so it can’t be cut out. When every member of that club is dead, the tumors will still be there.” She placed a hand over her heart. “But I’ll sleep like a baby when it’s done.”

Jessica scooted to the edge of the couch. “Do you have any idea who might be responsible?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t say.”

“So you do have an idea of who might be responsible,” Jessica said.

“You look parched,” the woman told her. “Go ahead and have some lemonade. It’s nice and cold.”

Jessica looked at the particles swirling about inside the pitcher. Was this their killer?

“I made it myself. I have a lemon tree out back.”

“No, thanks. I’m not thirsty.”

“I am,” Hayley said and proceeded to pour herself a glass. Before Jessica could stop her, she guzzled it down, then wiped her mouth with her sleeve and said, “Delicious.”

“You knew that was a test, didn’t you?” Tracy asked.

Jessica couldn’t believe what Hayley had done. “A test?” she asked.

“Tracy believes we might think she’s the killer,” Hayley said.

A perfectly reasonable assumption, Jessica thought. “You have a degree in chemistry,” Jessica told her. “For four years, you were abused by one, maybe more, of the members of this club. Of course you might be on our radar.”

“Well,” Tracy said, “I’m flattered. I only wish I had the nerve to pull off something as delicious as this. But I don’t. She’s bound to get caught, and when she does, she’s going down. Prison and me, that’s not a good mix.” She grinned. “I just hope she finishes the job before they get her. You think she’ll go after the ones who moved away?”

Jessica and Hayley looked at each other, then turned back to her and shrugged. “Hard to say,” Jessica said. “What makes you think the person responsible is a woman?”

Tracy lifted a brow. “Why are you here talking to me?”

“All righty, then,” Hayley said, pushing herself to her feet.

Jessica joined her and thanked Tracy Carson for her time. While there was no arguing the woman was a little strange and overly excited about the Ambassador Club deaths—that in itself was no crime. But still . . . Tracy Carson made her uneasy.

On their way to the car, Jessica turned to Hayley. “How can you be so sure she’s not the killer?”

“That woman can hardly see. She has uveitis.”

“Uveitis?”

“An inflammatory problem that causes swelling and destroys eye tissues.”

“How do you know this?”

“While you were watching Tracy, I was looking around the room. The cane was my first clue, the medication for uveitis was the second.”

“How does she read the newspaper?”

“You didn’t see the magnifying glass on the table?”

Jessica sighed. “Are you feeling woozy yet?”

“Not even a little,” Hayley said. “If anything, she might have put some sort of energy drink in that lemonade. I’ve never felt better.”

Jessica snorted and then opened the door and climbed in behind the wheel.





CHAPTER 60

Lizzy had never been to a pig farm before. From what she’d read online, the Pickett Pig Farm had five hundred sows that each produced about twenty-five piglets every year. The Pickett farm handled the breeding and marketing and allowed their piglets to grow organically. They did not use hormones or antibiotics. The pigs were free to live outdoors and roam around.

As she drove up the long, graveled lane toward the farmhouse sitting in the middle of the lot, she thought the place looked lonely and neglected against its backdrop of gray skies.

Lizzy cut the engine in front of the house and climbed out of her car. The stairs leading up to the porch had seen better days. Her sneakers squeaked against the wood wraparound porch as she made her way to the front entry.