The Body in the Cast by Katherine Hall Page Page A

ordered. I suppose you want to talk about yesterday.” Cornelia was using her best head counselor’s voice to come straight to the point, and it suddenly occurred to Faith that her friend thought she was to blame for the disaster.
    â€œCorny,” she gasped, “you certainly don’t think I or any of my staff had anything to do with everyone getting sick!”
    â€œYou did prepare the food, Faith dear,” she said, fixing Faith with a stern eye that continued the thought.
    â€œBut I didn’t put Chocolax in the soup!”

    Now Cornelia appeared surprised. “Chocolax. Did you hear this from the police?”
    Obviously, the news had not reached the Marriott, or Cornelia, at any rate. Charley MacIsaac had not told Faith to keep it a secret, so she supposed the news was for public consumption.
    â€œYes, from our chief. He said it was Chocolax, loads of it, and another liquid laxative.” Since hearing the method, Faith assumed the police were asking around at such places as Aleford’s own Patriot Drug to find out whether anyone had made suspiciously large purchases of it lately. She was so busy with this thought and with rooting around in the diaper bag for Amy’s plastic keys that it was a moment before she realized Cornelia hadn’t said anything. She looked up. Corny had a puzzled look on her face and was staring off toward the other dining room—the one Faith preferred because of its fireplace and smaller, more intimate size.
    The waitress arrived to take Faith’s order, and by the time this had been accomplished, Cornelia’s expression was almost back to its usual imperturbability.
    â€œWhat is it? You know something, don’t you?” Faith pressed. She wasn’t about to miss this opportunity. Not with her business at stake, as well as enough curiosity to decimate the greater Boston cat population.
    â€œThe laxative, the Chocolax. Evelyn takes it by the handful.” Cornelia was almost whispering.
    â€œWhat on earth for?” Faith asked, then quickly said, “You mean … ?”
    â€œYes,” Cornelia replied. “She throws up, too. It’s one of the reasons she was at the clinic in Switzerland.”
    At that moment, the food arrived. Faith stared at the burger with Boursin, salad to one side, she’d ordered. Cornelia hadn’t picked up a fork, either. It all looked so robust, a trickle of fat and blood oozing from the rare meat. She was being ridiculous, Faith told herself, apparently at the same time Corny told herself the same thing. They grabbed their utensils and took two large bites of lettuce.

    â€œAn eating disorder. The poor woman. Is this common knowledge—or is it only because you’re close to Max that you know?” Faith went from sympathy back to the main point rapidly. She hoped her not-so-subtle flattery would produce results. It did.
    â€œOf course I knew about it before other people,” Cornelia preened, “although by now it’s old news. But surely Evelyn wouldn’t put it in her own soup?”
    Exactly what Faith was thinking. Still, it may not have been in Evelyn’s soup. She bent down to pick up the toy keys that Amy had thrown on the floor for the tenth time, ecstatic as always with the game of “Fetch, Mommy, Fetch.” Evelyn might have taken the Chocolax before lunch. Then why had she gotten so sick? It couldn’t have been suggestibility—everyone else getting sick. Her dramatic entry had preceded the onset of the others’ symptoms. But if she had taken some and it was also in the soup, that might account for the severity of her attack. Faith bit into her hamburger ruminatively. One thing was sure: Everyone working on A knew where to go to get plenty of yummy Chocolax. Or did they? She swallowed hastily.
    â€œDid she keep the laxative in her trailer or at the house?”
    â€œIn the trailer—at least that’s where I’ve seen the