The Extinguished Guest (A Lexie Starr Mystery, Book 2) by Jeanne Glidewell Read Free Book Online

with a few extra pounds.
     And I think it's been acting up this morning because I feel a bit light-headed, all
     of a sudden."
    A few extra pounds? A hundred and fifty extra pounds, she must have meant to say.
     At least it was a comfort to know the sugar-covered pastries I'd helped Crystal deep-fry
     earlier had nothing to do with those "few extra pounds" Patty had to contend with.
    "Yes, quite faint, actually. Perhaps I do need a little something to boost my metabolism."
     Patty's voice had dropped to a near inaudible level, as if the very effort of speaking
     normally was too much for her and her under-active thyroid. "Could you run to the
     kitchen and see what you can find for me to nibble on?"
    "Yes, Mrs. Poffenbarger," I said.
    "Yes, dear."
    Otto and I had answered in unison. I motioned for Otto to sit down, and then waved
     to Crystal, standing beside the window and peering out at the porch. She instantly
     appeared at Patty's side and offered the tray of refreshments, as if by habit. She
     rolled her eyes as Patty selected several cream-filled doughnuts from the tray, while
     lamenting about her thyroid condition. I had to stifle a giggle as I watched Crystal
     refill the Poffenbargers' coffee cups. There was enough caffeine being consumed at
     the inn to the degree no one in the entire household should be able to sleep for a
     week. I poured myself another cup of the fragrant beverage before Crystal left to
     check on the rest of the guests.
    To make idle chatter, I pointed toward a raised flowerbed in the backyard where small,
     light purple blossoms were poking up above the fresh layer of snow. "Look at those
     colorful little flowers out there. Poor things bloomed a little too early, didn't
     they?"
    "Actually, they're right on schedule," Otto said. "Those are called snow crocuses,
     my dear. They always bloom in early spring and often come right up through the snow,
     hence, their name. With their violet petals, grayish veins, and yellow throats, I'd
     say those are what are known as 'firefly' crocuses."
    I guess the surprise showed on my face. Patty explained matter-of-factly, between
     licks of the Bavarian creme oozing out onto her fingers, "Otto's a botanist. He usually
     spends most of his day in a lab, staring at silly old plants."
    It was obvious Patty thought this was the most ridiculous waste of time imaginable,
     but as an amateur gardener, I was interested in "silly old" plants, too. "Do all of
     the crocuses come up this early in the spring?" I asked Otto.
    "Well, the snow crocus, of course, comes up in early spring, as do most of the crocuses.
     But there's also an autumn crocus, found primarily in Europe and the Middle East.
     It blooms in autumn and bears fruit in the spring. All parts of that particular plant,
     however, are lethally poisonous."
    "Really?" I was genuinely intrigued by Otto's knowledge.
    "Yes. It has useful aspects though. The bulb of the autumn crocus contains the alkaloid
     colchicin, which is still used to treat gout. It's also used in genetics because of
     its property to cause polyploidia."
    "Polyploidia?"
    Patty was yawning, but apparently content to let her husband discuss insignificant
     matters with the feeble-minded maid while she polished off the doughnuts. I had to
     stifle my own sudden desire to yawn.
    "Having a chromosome number that is a multiple greater than two of the monoploid number—"
    "Oh, I see." I had no clue what he was talking about, but I cut him off because I
     didn't really have the time or desire to listen to the entire scientific spiel on
     polyploidia. It was clear I'd misjudged Otto, who didn't look as if he had two brain
     cells to keep each other company. Jack Sprat or not, Otto Poffenbarger was obviously
     a highly intelligent individual.
    "I'm impressed, Mr. Poffenbarger," I said, as Patty shook her head in obvious disgust
     at my laudatory remark. "You should think about writing a book."
    "Well, actually, my dear, I am writing a book—but it