Murder From the Grave

Rosemarie and I were sitting in the outdoor dining area of a local steak house. We had been to her oncologist appointment. She had received the news she and I both expected: The treatments weren’t slowing the spread of the cancer she had been fighting for three years. We had cried in the doctor’s office, but by the time we were in my truck and on the road, Rosemarie’s tears had stopped and she was furious.
    “Dammit it all to hell, Josie! Why do some doctors want to make anything sound possible? You and I both knew after that last bone scan that nothing could be done. What did I get? Maybe one more year? Another year of useless treatments and Richard hiding his head in the sand?”
    I agreed with her. Her husband had been in denial since her diagnosis. Rosemarie asked me to take her to doctor appointments so she wouldn’t have to listen to Richard’s ‘Honey, it’ll be okay ’ when she tried to talk to him about her impending death.
    “So,” Rosemarie stated, “I’m going to do as much living as I’m able to. First on the list is prime rib, a loaded baked potato and a pitcher of margaritas. Hell, I’ve behaved myself for years. Time to cut loose a little.”

    We had an enjoyable meal, talked about everyone we knew (the good and especially the bad), and laughed at silly things we’d done together. As the waiter removed dessert plates from the table, Rosemarie’s mood turned serious.
    “Josie, Richard and I are both forty-seven. Too young for this to happen to us. I know he’ll probably remarry, probably too soon, as men tend to do. I sure as hell hope he marries anyone but that damned next door neighbor of ours.”
    I knew exactly who she was talking about. Prim and proper Louisa Ann Raines, who, if there was even a smidgen of truth to any of the local gossip, enjoyed nothing more than some side action, even though she had had a handsome, loving husband at home. Since his death, Rosemarie had complained frequently about Louisa Ann calling Richard for help on some ‘project’ (Rosemarie’s term) around her house.
    I commiserated with Rosemarie about that possible situation. When Rosemarie suggested that Richard and I get together, something she knew was not going to happen, I laughed and told her, “You’ll just have to kill Louisa Ann.”
    Rosemarie set down her coffee cup and stared at me. “Did I hear you correctly? Kill Louisa Ann? I may be dying but I don’t think that would exempt me from punishment.”
    “Set it up to look like a health issue.”
    “Health issue? Josie, what on earth are you talking about?”
    “Have you ever heard of Alpha-Gal?”
    “No. What are you talking about?”
    “Mammal meat allergy. I’m oversimplifying, but basically, when the body breaks down the proteins in mammal meat, it causes an allergic reaction that has killed people. You have heard of anaphylactic shock?”
    “Yes. But what’s that got to do with Louisa Ann?”
    “She’s one of the people with the most severe form of Alpha-Gal. Can’t even be in a house if someone is cooking beef or any other mammal meat. Can’t eat out, especially deep-fried foods, except at one or two seafood restaurants because the vegetable oils used often have beef by-products in them. Can’t even have dairy products.”
    “You are kidding me.”
    “Nope. Check it out.  But not on your computer.”

* * * * * * * * *

    For two weeks Rosemarie researched Alpha-Gal. She told Richard her computer wasn’t acting right and went to the library at times she knew she could find the computer José Mendenez had used and not logged off of. Sometimes doing volunteer work came in handy.
    She learned enough to formulate a plan. Now to figure out how to put the plan into action. Her strength was fading and she knew she was running out of time.

    Friday afternoon gave her the answer. Louisa Ann showed up at the back door with a casserole dish in hand.
    “Louisa Ann, what a nice surprise. You didn’t have to bring us supper,” Rosemarie stated with what she hoped was a welcoming smile.
    Evidently she could do some acting for Louisa Ann smiled back. “I know it’s probably hard on you to keep up with the household chores so I made this chicken casserole. It’s rather spicy the way I like it so I cut down on the hot peppers since I didn’t now if you and Richard like spicy food.”
    “The hotter and spicier the better for Richard, but this will be fine for me,” Rosemarie told Louisa Ann. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy it for supper.”
    “I usually serve a simple salad with it,” Louisa Ann said, “but carrot and celery sticks would work. Something simple and easy.”
    “Thank you so much,” Rosemarie said, then watched Louisa Ann walk across their backyards to her back door.

    More computer research for a very hot and spicy chicken casserole. Rosemarie found two recipes. After reading them she decided the one called Double the Heat Spicy Chicken was the one Louisa Ann had made.
    The leftovers from Louisa Ann’s casserole were in the freezer, labeled with the date and other pertinent information, something Rosemarie had done for years. Her replacement leftover casserole would be somewhat more ‘spicy’ than Louisa Ann’s, with some additions.
    A trip to the grocery store with a list of ingredients, plus one, and Rosemarie was ready to prepare casserole.

    Richard enjoyed the spicier version and told Rosemarie he hoped the leftovers would be as good; she assured him they would be. After supper, she dumped Louisa Ann’s leftovers into the garbage disposal and replaced them with that night’s leftovers.
    Rosemarie smiled as she placed the container back into the freezer. Just let him bring that hussy into my house, she thought.e

* * * * * * * * * *

    Three months later, I am at the funeral home where Richard is mourning the loss of his second wife. As I near the casket, I wonder exactly what Rosemarie did to achieve this, for she hadn’t mentioned Alpha-Gal, nor Louisa Ann, to me after that afternoon conversation.
    Richard was in tears, as he had been at Rosemarie’s viewing. I will give him credit for loving the women in his life, and being tenderhearted. I will deduct from that the scant two weeks it took for him to remarry, and for that woman to be Louisa Ann.
    “Josie,” he said, when I was next in line. “How did this happen? How did this happen to me?” He gripped my hands tightly. “I didn’t know Louisa Ann had an allergy of any kind. The ME said it was something to do with meat.”
    Richard may be kindhearted but he has never wanted to hear about any health problems of any kind, even something as minor as a hangnail, so his being ignorant of Louisa Ann’s allergy could somewhat be excused.
    “What happened?” I asked.
    “We had leftover casserole that she had brought us a couple of weeks before Rosemarie died. It was in the freezer, labeled when it was put there. You know how Rosemarie was about that.”
    I nodded.
    “We reheated it. Louisa Ann said it was spicier than she remembered but we decided that was because we hadn’t eaten any spicy foods for a few days. Everything seemed fine until a little after midnight when she woke up and couldn‘t breathe. She kept waving toward the bathroom but I had no idea what she wanted and called 9-1-1. By the time they got there it was too late.”
    I squeezed his hands. And tried to remember if I’d seen any of the local EMT’s in the crowd for I felt Richard was going to need some medical attention himself.
    “Richard, take a deep breath,” I told him. He did and it seemed to help.
    “Josie, I didn’t know eating beef could kill you!” He broke down sobbing, and an EMT among the mourners came over and escorted Richard away from the casket.
    I walked to the seating area and took a chair near the back, wondering who I could ask about the cause of death.

    A couple of minutes later, Sally Sue Johnson sat down beside me. And filled me in . . .
    “Did you hear? The casserole they had for supper is what killed Louisa Ann. It was full of beef broth. No one seems to know how that happened.”
    I managed not to smile. “That’s terrible. Poor Richard. Two wives gone in less than six months. Poor man.” I could say the expected words.

    But I knew what Rosemarie had done.