August 26, 2024
The Levitating Oyster

Dinner with Friends

It was a balmy summer afternoon and I found myself walking through a kitchen garden with friends. The garden was across a narrow lane from the restaurant we were preparing to eat dinner at, and I was glad to be out in the fresh air before getting cloistered for a several-hours long marathon of indulgence. Private Detective Adrian Drake and I were between cases, and he’d invited me along with Police Detective Bill Chizzik and Bill’s wife Charlotte. In the past I would never make a habit of spending time with coworkers, but working as Drake’s assistant was more like a dream than a job. There were times it was unpleasant and times where it was exhilarating, but it was always unbelievable to me that I got paid to follow along and take notes. When Drake proposed the four of us go out to eat, I was expecting an enjoyable evening down at Barolo or The Pink Door, some unoffensive and delicious Italian food, a bottle of wine, a chance to relax before the next case presented itself. I should’ve known better - nothing is that simple when Drake is involved. Especially when he’s the one planning the outing.

“Cutting it a bit close, aren’t we Maggie?” Drake said as I parked my Honda in front of his Belltown flat.
“You’re lucky I’m here at all. I had to backtrack twenty minutes to get you.” Drake never learned to drive and I was constantly having to go out of the way to rescue him when transit would be too slow otherwise.
He remained stoic. “Ah, but punctuality is the politeness of kings!” With a small huff he slid into his seat and murmured, “And the necessity of their chauffeurs.”
“Add that to my job description, your Highness.” I said, verbally updating my resume. “Notetaker, chauffeur, and timekeeper for the great Adrian Drake.”
“Thank you Maggie, I’m glad to know my good deed of keeping you employed is paying dividends.”

I laughed. It had taken me a few years to get used to Drake’s humor. When he needled you, he thought it was funny. When he tried to brush something under the rug, you knew he was upset.
“Well I don’t think five minutes will make the difference between life and death today. Let’s enjoy the afternoon,” he said, delivering the commencement to our short road trip.

The drive out to the countryside was pleasant once we made it beyond the veil of suburbs and interstate traffic. Drake called out the directions. He didn’t tell me where we were going beforehand, and for not being a driver himself, he knew an awful lot about the current conditions of the roads on our route. He navigated us through back roads that had me turned around until we found ourselves on a newly poured road with sidewalks and bike paths on either side. To the right was a large open lavender field that created a vista with the mountain backdrop behind it. Mount Rainier stood tall in the golden sunshine. On the left was a forested thicket with a gravel lane.

“Turn off here,” Drake pointed at the lane.

I found Bill’s squad car in the lot and we parked next to it.

“Geez, I can understand running errands in this, but coming to a nice place to eat?” I thought of Charlotte and how it must feel to be carted around in your husband’s police cruiser.
“It’s a nice car!” A gruff voice called out from the other side of a tall pot planted with heuchera. I could see Bill’s short-cut blonde hair on the other side, the front of it pushed up in spikes like a 90’s boy band member. All he was missing were the frosted tips. He was smoking while he waited for us. He stepped out from behind the pot, grinning. “Besides, you never know when duty may call.”

Drake walked up and embraced Bill, a rare sight. I knew the two of them were friends from before their careers started, but I almost never saw physical affection between them.

I hugged Bill as well. “Charlotte must love being passenger princess in this.” I looked around. “She inside?”
He shook his head and his grin faltered. “She didn’t feel great this afternoon. Just the three of us tonight.”

I searched Drake’s face for any irritation. My guess was that he had pre-paid for four this evening. If he was upset though, he didn’t show it.

“The show must go on,” Drake said. “Tell Charlotte to feel better soon.”

We walked to the front door of the restaurant. It looked like an enchanted cottage in the woods, with a long, vine-covered entryway leading back to a stone and plastered building that could have been built by a witch. The exposed timbers of the door frame were painted a forest green, and the handle was polished brass. It swung open seemingly by magic to reveal a tall young man with tousled brown hair. I caught a glimpse of a furrowed brow that disappeared when he turned his attention on us. Two people were shuffling through the vestibule past him - a white haired paunchy man in a suit and a young woman in a long pencil skirt.

The man welcomed us. “Welcome to The Cottage Garden Mr. Drake, Mr. Chizzik, and -” He looked at me searchingly for a moment, clearly expecting another party member, then continued. “Ms. Tremblay.” He guessed right. I looked at his name tag.
“Thank you Anthony,” I said back to him. He reddened but recovered.
“We’re elated to have you join us this evening. If you’ll please follow me around the side, we’ll begin tonight with drinks and an appetizer in the walled garden.” We followed him down a crunchy path of broken hazelnuts that led along the long wall of the cottage to a secretive walled garden in the back with a pizza oven and several cocktail tables set up. Anthony gestured at one of them. “After about twenty minutes the Chef will come out and take you through the kitchen garden to taste some herbs and flowers that will be in tonight’s meal.” Anthony turned to me. “We’ll be preparing the standard menu for the two of you, and for Ms. Tremblay I understand the vegetarian menu is preferred?”

I shook my head. “Thank you, I’m fine with the regular menu tonight.” Health be damned, this was not the kind of place to go off the chef’s script.
“Very good, I’ll be right back with some drinks to get started.” Anthony turned around on his heel and opened a door into the back of the cottage. Standing in the doorway was the same large white haired man I saw waddling in to the restaurant. He must have made his way through rather than around. Anthony stood holding the door open for him. I saw Anthony’s lip curl in an ephemeral snarl before he ducked past the man and his escort and into the restaurant.

Amouse Bouche

Bill leaned in with a low whisper. “Is that who I think it is?”
“Hm?” Drake said. “Our server?”
“No! That guy.” Bill nodded not inconspicuously at the white haired man. “That’s Derrick Brown, isn’t it?”
“Why does that name sound familiar to me?” I interjected, the name tickled something in my memory but it eluded me.
Bill tried to jog my memory. “Emerald City Wealth Management?”
I shook my head. He rolled his eyes at me and continued. “Biggest Ponzi scheme in state history. It was all over the news last year.”

I looked over at the man and the girl with him. She was much younger than him, probably around Anthony’s age. A server had just finished placing down two oysters on the half shell in front of each of them and was explaining the aromatic smoke they were supposed to inhale as they swallowed the oyster. I winced, wishing I had maybe opted for the vegetarian menu after all. The man tossed back his two oysters quickly, while his date toyed around with hers, poking at the soft tissue in the middle of the shell. He had a disgusting way of slurping them down in one gulp, though I suppose nobody looks very dainty when eating oysters. His date put one of her oysters on his plate.

“I don’t want two.” I could barely make out the words over other conversations. Derrick Brown shrugged and tossed back the oyster she’d given him, putting the shell back on her plate.
“At least have one,” he gently entreated her. “You’ll like it, it’s good.” Maybe she was his daughter? I was confused as to their relationship until he put his arm around her and watched gleefully as she slurped her oyster, nearly gagging. He seemed to enjoy the sight. I felt disgusted watching and turned back to the table. Bill and Drake had been mid conversation, I wasn’t paying attention to them.
“Ugh.” I mouthed like I was going to be sick myself. The two of them stared at me. “What Bill?” I said. “He’s right there, go get him. You’ve got your squad car, I bet you have your handcuffs too. Isn’t he supposed to be in prison by now?”
He shook his head. “He appealed the charges. They didn’t stick. He got off with a fine.”
“You’re joking?” I said incredulously.
“Slap on the wrist. Fined fifteen or twenty million. Pocket change when you’re making hundreds of millions. He's got two yachts, a few vacation homes -” Bill glanced over. “And apparently a few other things money can in fact buy.” Bill grunted.
I was disgusted. “Thousands of people lost everything to that man.”
Bill grimly agreed. “Twenty to one says he doesn’t die in his sleep.”
Drake frowned at the conversation topic. “How morbid, and in any case, out of our hands. Let’s focus on what we can control, and not let present company sour our evening.” There were glasses of something pink and bubbly on the table - when had those arrived? Drake rose his glass. I reluctantly picked mine up. “Here’s to good food, even better company, and priceless artifacts.”

Leave it to Drake to make even a toast cryptic. But I knew what he was talking about. Our work last month on the Case of the Kabuki Thief, when Drake was able to track down and recover several keystone items from the Seattle Asian Art museum that had gone missing overnight. Bill and I clinked glasses in the toast as Anthony returned with our oysters. I held back my grimace as he explained the dish to us, but my facade cracked into a full frown when he finished with “… and these are the same oysters that will be served tonight.”

Hoodwinked

Despite our fellow diners, I realized at one point several hours on that I’d forgotten all about them. The Cottage Garden was a truly magical place. As I looked at my watch and noticed it had been almost five hours since we’d shown up, I recounted all of the memories I knew I would enjoy from a night that wasn’t even finished. The kitchen garden was enchanting, the food fantastic. At the start of dinner they seated us and drew the curtain back on an open view of the kitchen, the culinary team whizzing in the background. A Peruvian man sat in a wooden throne in the corner, playing Spanish guitar. I was completely entranced by the performance of the evening, on the verge of stuffed when the final course before desserts was placed at our table.

A friendly middle-aged man named Rob waited on us throughout the meal, and he and I had built up a bit of rapport. When the seafood stew came out, I was pleased to see the oysters had been edited from my portion. I call it seafood stew because I’m not much of a culinary mind and couldn’t tell you what was actually in it. All you need to know is it tasted about a million times better than “seafood stew” sounds. I was in heaven, savoring every spoonful. I didn’t even mind that we were sitting by the door to the hall which led down to the restroom. All night, when someone would get up to use the restroom, someone from the staff would open the door. It was never the same person, and there was never anyone waiting there, yet without fail the door would magically open. It was like kitchen cirque du soleil.

While we were all eating this final savory course, the young woman in the pencil skirt got up to use the restroom. This time it was Anthony who appeared at the door to open it for her. I watched her walk through and realized somehow that they must have known each other. It was the way she avoided looking at him. Not like he was just another waitstaff, but like she was embarrassed to have him see her there. Anthony shut the door and walked over to where she had gotten up from. He folded her napkin and placed it back on the table, then offered to bring Mr. Brown another drink.

It was then when Drake stood up and excused himself that I realized something was off. I should’ve known better than to think this was just a fun dinner with friends. I sighed. “Here we go again.” Bill smiled at me. That bastard knew all along. It’s why Charlotte didn’t come, and why he drove in his squad car. I put my fork down and sat back. “He could’ve at least waited until dessert was done,” I complained.

When Oysters Fly

The next few minutes unfolded rapidly. I watched, the rest of the diners unaware of the drama they were about to witness. Drake walked over to Anthony who was in the sommelier’s back bar, preparing another glass for Mr. Brown. The two had a hushed conversation. I saw Drake’s hand press against Anthony’s jacket. Anthony’s face went pale, but he nodded. He delivered the glass to Mr. Brown.

Meanwhile, Bill got up and excused himself to the restroom. Rob stood at the door, holding it open for him to walk through. Just as he did, the young woman came back through and strode to her seat. I saw a bit of perspiration at her brow. Bill said something to Rob and walked through the door. Rob stayed put, the first person all night to not rush back to another job after opening the door for a guest.

The woman was nearing the table but stopped short. The background patter of conversation morphed into terse whispers as the other guests realized something was happening. She looked aghast at her date as Derrick Brown picked up one of the oysters rimming the wide-brimmed seafood stew bowl. Eyes turned to Mr. Brown.

“What’s the problem? Come sit down. You’re making a scene.” He motioned with a pudgy hand for her to come back to her seat next to him. She stood, frozen, clutching her cream handbag against her stomach. She looked as though her skirt wrapped itself around her legs and constricted her, like a snake immobilizing its prey.
Drake swooped in over Mr. Brown’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Drake gestured at the oyster on the half-shell with his brow.
Brown glowered at Drake. “Do you mind? I’m trying to enjoy my dinner.” He continued to raise the oyster to his mouth.

Just as Mr. Brown was about to shoot the oyster down his throat, Drake snatched it from his hands. “Oh, I very much do mind.” Drake said, steel in his voice.

The guitar player had stopped, the entire kitchen which had been a hum of noise was silent. All eyes in the dining room were on Drake, just as he liked it. Mr. Brown’s face was red in anger. He scanned the room for the nearest waitstaff.

Pointing a thick finger at Anthony, he shouted. “Get this man out of here!”

Anthony stood his ground, glancing back and forth at the young woman and Mr. Brown searchingly.

“Ladies and Gentlemen I apologize for interrupting your very special evening, but I have a short demonstration for you.” Drake raised his voice for the entire restaurant to hear.

I groaned loud enough to catch a side-eye from Drake.

He picked up the heavy wrought iron votive holder from the end of the table and held it about a foot above his other hand, open palm up, the oyster in the middle of it.

"Observe!" He captured the room.

Drake brought the two closer together, closing the vertical gap between them. When the oyster and candlestick were about three inches apart, the soft muscle of the oyster zipped upward through the air, defying gravity, and stuck to the candlestick.
“What the hell?” Mr. Brown’s rage piled up on his confusion. “What he hell is going on here? What kind of fucked up magic show is this? I’ll have this place shut down for this shit!” He started to back his chair out.
“Sit down.” Drake commanded him. Mr. Brown stopped. “Whether you realize or not sir, your life is owed to me.” Drake pried the oyster flesh off of the iron with a fork and turned the votive holder on end, showing the room. In the center of the dark iron was a shiny circle a centimeter in diameter. “A neodymium magnet.”

Drake slid the magnet off the base with some effort into his hand. “Not very harmful by itself, but when swallowed, has the potential to cause quite a bit of havoc.”

Bill appeared in the dining room again from the door behind Rob. He had his handcuffs out and marched over to the young woman. She didn’t move. It seemed like her spirit had left her. Bill cuffed her and began turning her to the door.

Derrick Brown stood up, pushing the entire table back as he did so. “Now you wait a minute, Siobhan wouldn’t have anything to do with this!” He walked over to Bill and raised his hands. Bill flashed his badge, arresting Mr. Brown’s aggression. Siobhan stood there, eyes empty.

“Unfortunately, Miss Siobhan had everything to do with this.” Drake continued. “I think a man as careless as you may not realize: You defrauded Siobhan’s mother and father out of their entire retirement savings. Unable to return to work and unwilling to accept he had made such an error of judgement, her father was desperate. When you failed to be sentenced to remunerate the victims of your Ponzi scheme, he ended his life.”
“She has been planning, as I understand it, for several months now to take justice into her hands.”
Mr. Brown rebutted. “One magnet wouldn’t kill me! Look at that puny thing! This is all nonsense, you’re delusional!”

Drake took Siobhan’s purse from Bill. I felt awful for the girl. She had been caught in a humiliatingly public way, bravely trying to do what many probably wished would be done. He fished around inside it and pulled out a long cylinder of bright neodymium magnets, stuck together end on end.

Drake agreed. “One magnet, no. But two magnets, ingested several hours apart, would pinch and rip their way through your intestinal lining.” I thought back to the walled garden, realizing that Siobhan wasn’t just toying with the oyster she didn’t want. She was planting the first magnet. Drake continued to exposit, reveling in the attention.
“You would probably be at home in bed, waiting for your escort to do her duty when you would feel the stomachache. Then you’d pass out from internal bleeding. The pain before that moment would be immense. I doubt anyone would be called to help, as the only witness would be herself the killer. And then she would be gone in the night, never having officially been there in the first place. The police would investigate, but half-heartedly. Nobody would have lost a wink of sleep if you had swallowed that oyster.”

Siobhan broke down in tears. Bill took her outside. The other diners filed out. Derrick Brown turned around a few times, lost, bewildered at having the curtain pulled back on what he thought he was in control of.

Fair’s Fair

I got up and gave Drake a shove on the shoulder. “You jerk.” I went out to the car, thoroughly annoyed. My heavenly night was ruined. I could have been none the wiser! Needless to say the drive home was silent. We pulled up to Drake’s flat 45 minutes later. He was about to get out without saying anything when I stopped him.

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, the question burning its way out of my mouth.
“Why?”
“Hm?” He looked at me, feigning innocence.
“Why’d you save Brown?”
He sighed and his shoulder slumped. For once, I saw his veneer crack. Drake seemed remarkably human in this moment. “I’ve seen this before. Vengeance feels good in the moment, but leaves people hollow. I did not save him. I was only thinking of Siobhan.”
“What gives you the authority to act like you know how it’d turn out? Maybe it would have brought her peace.”
He mused. “Perhaps. Though I do not believe my own rhetoric. The police would have found her eventually. These things have a way of coming out.”
I sat there for a few moments. The rain pattered down on the hood of the car. “How did you even know about this?”
“What makes you think I knew?” He said with a coy smile.
“Don’t give me that. How did you know she was going to kill him with magnets?”

Drake pulled out his phone and showed me a picture. It was the inside of Siobhan’s purse. The roll of magnets was clearly visible. I swiped the photo away and saw that it was a text message from Bill. He must have taken this when he followed her out to the bathroom.

“I saw the same thing you did, and it puzzled me. Watching someone pick and prod at an oyster with their bare fingers is a bit too much spectacle to go unnoticed. Unless of course, you’re a gluttonous bastard more focused on guzzling your own oysters.”
I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t be satisfied until we had gone over everything. “And the chances that this attempted murder just so happened to fall on the same evening as us getting dinner here?”
“Coincidences do happen, you know.” As Drake said this, I saw a tall young man with tousled brown hair striding down the sidewalk through the rain and to the call box at the apartment building. He fumbled for his keys.
“You know Anthony, the waiter?”
“He’s one floor down from me.”
“Don’t make me guess.”
“He and Siobhan have been together for a while now. I overheard the two of them on the balcony a few weeks ago discussing the plan. Anthony extends a free invitation to dinner, she to join Brown for one night only under the guise of a provided escort. They had it all worked out.”
“That’s not fair! You had her arrested and he’s just walking home?” I glared at Drake.
He winked.

Red and blue lights came around the corner as if on cue. An officer hopped out and walked over to Anthony. Positive id. Cuffs. Into the car and they were off. Just like that.

“I really hate you sometimes.” I said to Drake, not meaning a word of it.
“Did you at least enjoy dinner?”
“You owe me dessert.” My frown turned into a brief smile. “Now get out of the car. I’m going home.”
He grabbed the handle and clicked it open. “Don’t write about this one. There wasn't any murder, people won't enjoy it.”
“I’ll do what I want! Scram!”

Drake stepped out into the rain in his distinctive trench coat and hat. He looked like a man plucked from another time. I drove home, wondering just what would become of Derrick Brown. Siobhan couldn’t have been the only one with a plan to get even.