Murder Most Mellow (A Kate Jasper Mystery) by Jaqueline Girdner

sat down across from me.
    “What did Sarah say?” she repeated in a monotone.
    “Nothing much,” my voice squeaked. I took another breath to get my voice under control. “Where did you meet Sarah?” I asked.
    “A group,” she answered. This was progress. A two-word reply. But before I could congratulate myself, she threw another question at me. “Do you know Tony’s secret?” she asked.
    Tony’s secret. Damn. Another little mystery I had managed to forget. I shook my head.
    “Do you know who left the death threat on Sarah’s answering machine?” Linda pressed.
    I shook my head again, wondering if I was looking at the person who had. My mouth felt very dry. Why had Linda been so quick to label the message a “death threat”?
    “Why do you want to know?” I demanded.
    Linda smiled a rare smile, her lips drawing back tightly from sharp, gleaming white teeth. She made no reply.
    “I don’t know anything,” I said, suddenly tired of this game. “She’s dead, murdered! I don’t know who did it. It could have been any one of us who had access to her computer. I saw them take her away—”
    I shut my mouth and clamped my lips together. I was babbling again. Was that what Linda wanted?
    I stood up. I wanted her out of my house. I centered myself in a tai chi posture. “I have to get back to work,” I told her firmly.
    Linda shrugged and left. It was only after she was gone that I thought of all the questions I could have asked her. Should have asked her. I sighed. She probably would have avoided them anyway. Especially the important questions. Had she murdered Sarah Quinn? And if so, why? I didn’t have a clue.
    I did a little more deep breathing, then resumed my search for Nick Taos’s number in the Marin County phone book. I hadn’t really expected to find him listed, but there was his name and number at the beginning of the T’s in black and white. I was surprised. I hadn’t thought recluses had telephones, much less listed phone numbers. I was further surprised when he answered my call. His “Hello” was high-pitched and loud.
    “Nick, my name is Kate Jasper,” I began.
    “Oh, you’re the one in the group who got a divorce and doesn’t want to get married again,” he bawled in my ear. If this was his idea of social skill, it was no wonder Sarah had kept him locked away.
    “Yeah, well, anyway,” I said impatiently. “Do you know about Sarah?”
    “Uh-huh, the police have been here,” he said loudly enough that I had to hold the telephone receiver away from my ear. Was he deaf? No, he had heard my question. I opened my mouth to ask another, but he cut me off before I could speak.
    “What will I do?” he wailed. “Sarah takes care of me! She takes care of everything! She gets my groceries! She buys my clothes! She’s the only one who knows how to take care of me! And she’s gone!” I held the phone further away from my ear. “What am I gonna do? I haven’t been to a grocery store in years! She kept saying we’d go together one day! Oh God, whatamIgonnado?” he bellowed. He was clearly not a verbal recluse.
    “How old are you?” I asked, truly curious.
    The question stopped his wailing. “I’m twenty-eight,” he mumbled. Then his voice got loud again, and defiant. “I’m an artist, you know. Sarah says I’m a genius. She moved me out from my parents’ to this house eight years ago so I could work in seclusion.”
    “Do you need me to bring anything over?” I asked slyly.
    “Would you really bring some stuff over?” he cried.
    “How about this afternoon?” I pressed. The fish had taken the bait. Now all I had to do was reel him in.
    “Oh, this afternoon’d be great,” he yelled. I pulled the phone away from my ear again. “I need hamburger and Mallomars and root beer and lots of stuff,” he told me.
    “Sarah let you eat that junk?” I asked without thinking.
    “Uh-huh.” His voice filled my ear. “Sarah used to try to make me eat brown rice and stuff, but