Free Shadow of an Angle by Mignon F. Ballard Page B

in charge of the quilt raffle this year."
    "Did you eat anything there?" I asked, touching her forehead to check for fever. It felt clammy.
    "A couple of pieces of Scotch shortbread and coffee. We met at Janice Palmer's, and she always serves that." Mildred put a trembling hand to her mouth. "Don't think I'll be wanting any more for a while."
    "Who else was there? Maybe somebody else got sick," I said, although I couldn't imagine those refreshments causing an upset as severe as Mildred's.
    "The usual—except for Gertrude Whitmire. She hardly ever comes. And Edna Smith. Vesta, too, but she came in late, so I'm not sure if she ate anything."
    "What about supper? Did you have anything to eat before the meeting?" Gatlin reached for the phone as she spoke.
    Mildred made a face. "Just some of Edna's vegetable soup and corn bread. But it couldn't have been that."
    I wedged a pillow behind her. "Why not?"
    "Because she had some with me. Said she didn't like to think of me eating alone." Mildred reached out for Gatlin. "Look now, who're you calling?"
    "The Better Health Clinic. Somebody should take a look at you, Mildred. You might have food poisoning."
    "I'm eighty-three years old. I don't have time to spend the rest of my days in their waiting room, thank you. Besides, what could they do? If this was going to kill me, I'd already be dead—and believe me, there were times last night I wanted to be!" Mildred reluctantly accepted the cold cloth I applied to her forehead. "I told you—somebody slipped something into my coffee—something to knock me out."
    "They could check your stomach contents," Gatlin reasoned. "See if there's anything toxic—"
    "What stomach contents?" Mildred looked a little green and turned away.
    "Or the soup. We'll have them analyze what's left of the soup," I suggested.
    "Too late. We ate it all, and I'm afraid I rinsed out the jar." Mildred attempted a smile. "Edna does make good soup….
    You might call, though, and see if she's all right. Wouldn't hurt to see about Vesta, too."
    "She was fine when she came by this morning," I told them. "But I'll try to track her down."
    Willene Christenbury, who had hosted the luncheon for the Historical Society's renovation committee, told me my grandmother had left about thirty minutes before for a fitting at Phoebe's Alterations. "Said she was going to have that long black coat cut down to jacket size," Willene said. The coat was at least twenty years old, and I could tell by Willene's tone of voice that she wondered why Vesta would bother. I could have told her why. Vesta Maxwell got her penny's worth out of every thread she wore. My grandmother had never forgotten the Great Depression.
    "She didn't seem sick or anything, did she?" I asked. "Mildred seems to have come down with something, and we aren't sure if it's a virus or something she ate."
    Willene laughed. "I didn't see her turning down a second piece of lemon chess pie. Seemed fine when she left here."
    Edna Smith sounded hearty enough, as well. "I can't imagine what it could be," she said when I phoned her about Mildred. "I ate the same things she did, and we only had light refreshments at UMW. Sounds like she's picked up a nasty germ somewhere. Tell you what—Hank left early this morning to go hunting, but I'm looking for him any minute. Soon as he gets back, I'll send him over to take a look."
    "He isn't going to find anything," Mildred said when I told her. "Whatever stuff was in me is gone now."
    Gatlin brought ginger ale and soda crackers and persuaded Mildred to take some liquid. "What makes you think somebody put something in your drink, Mildred? It could be a virus, you know."
    "Then why am I the only one who got sick? And it made me feel like a zombie, like I'd been given some kind of drug. Remember when I had that gall bladder operation? It was like that. Felt just like I did when I came to—only worse!"
    "But why?" I smiled. "You don't have a stash of priceless gems somewhere, do you? What would