A Quiche Before Dying

see how she’s doing and why she wasn’t in class last night,“ Jane said.
    “You think she couldn’t face us without her guilt showing?“ Shelley asked.
    Jane wasn’t sure if Shelley was serious or joking. “I’ve been reading Pryce’s book this morning, and there’s something I’d like to ask her about. Besides, I want to find out if that extra copy of the book is hers.“
“Oh, Jane! Are you still going on about that?“
    “ Shelley, it’s just a little weird thing that bothers me.“
    “Did you tell VanDyne about it?“
    “Yes, and he considered it every bit as seriously as you do.”
    Shelley started clearing their plates. “I’d love to eat my words, but, Jane, there are a jillion copies of the damned thing floating around the class.“
    “Are you going with us, Mom?“ Jane asked.
    “No, I don’t think so. Katie was stirring when I came down. I’ll stick around and gossip with her. Why don’t you leave the car, so we can buzz around if she wants.”
    Jane looked at her mother. “You are supposed to care deeply about my welfare. I delivered a little lecture on the subject last night. And yet, you’re suggesting that I ride in a car with Atilla the Hun at the wheel.“
    “But she’s never had an accident,“ Cecily said with a laugh.
     
    “We were worried about you,“ Jane said to Desiree when she came to the door.
    Desiree was holding a tissue to her red nose. Her
eyes were red, too. “Sorry to miss it. Come in, girls.“
Though it was summer, Desiree apparently had the
furnace turned on. It was miserably hot in the house and smelled strange. “I’m cooking this cold,“ Desiree said before blowing her nose. “And I’m filling the air with medicinal herbs. In fact, I have a contractor coming over later to give me a bid on putting a greenhouse off the kitchen. Herbs are so important to our lives and so neglected. Herbs are the basis of all medicine, you know, and they can influence our mental, not to mention our psychic, state—”
    Jane and Shelley exchanged “she’s at it again“ looks.
    “I’m glad you girls came by. I wanted to talk to you about that field behind your houses—“
    “It was supposed to have houses on it, but the builder went bankrupt. It’s been tied up in court for years,“ Shelley said.
    “And my cats will be crushed if anything ever is built there. That’s their own private jungle,“ Jane added, feeling protective of the neglected field.
    “But don’t you see? It could be planted in wildflowers. It would be a lovely asset to the neighborhood, and people could have free access to the marvelous healing properties of the plants that would grow there.“
    “Not if it meant cutting through my yard, they couldn’t,“ Shelley said.
    Desiree wasn’t the least put out at Shelley’s practical turn of mind. She smiled sweetly. “But property is an illusion, my dear. We can’t any of us own the earth. Not until we’re buried and become at one with it.“
    “As long as I pay the taxes and the lawn service bills on it, I’m at one with it,“ Shelley said firmly.
    Desiree was about to further her argument, but Jane was afraid this philosophical discussion could get out of hand. “Desiree, I’ve been reading Mrs. Pryce’s book—“
“You have, my dear? Why ever would you do a thing like that? It’s a terribly dangerous book.“
    “Dangerous? In what way?“
    “It has a terrible black aura. But then, so did the woman herself.”
Jane said, “I thought you said her aura was—“
    “Jane!“ Shelley cut her off.
    “Yes, okay. I was saying, I noticed that Mrs. Pryce lived in Paris for a while in the early sixties. I thought I remembered you saying you did, too. Did you ever meet her there?”
    Desiree looked taken aback. “Oh, I don’t think so. I don’t think she’s the sort a person would forget, much as one would like to.“
    “But in my experience the American community in foreign countries is usually pretty clubby,“ Jane said. “Surely you would have run across her or heard of her.”
    Desiree laughed. “My dear, that’s just what’s wrong with Americans. They go off to fantastic places, then link arms and never see what’s around them. In my travels, I always made a point of avoiding my countrymen.”
    Jane glanced at Shelley, who was shaking her head in a “give it up“ motion.
    “Speaking of Mrs. Pryce’s book,“ Jane persevered, “I seem to have an extra copy. I must have picked somebody else’s up. Is it