Death at Table 15: Jaswinder Mystery Series, #2

By Cynthia Washburn

Jaswinder takes a second job at Restaurant Chatya with hopes of paying off her student loan. Her friend, Manisha, has dreams of opening a fashion boutique.

Unique and interesting characters, both customers and employees, are flummoxed when a customer drops dead during a meal.

Can Jaswinder duplicate her investigative results in 'Operatory of Death' and uncover the culprit before there is another murder?

A clean cozy mystery.

Second book in the Jaswinder Mystery Series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cynthia Washburn
• Release date: Dec 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497767676

Book preview

PROLOGUE – December 22th

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The first thing you think when someone drops dead in front of you is that you’re supposed to scream.  But you can’t.  Women in movies scream; their shrill voices echoing on and on.  But your throat has just clenched shut and you can’t make a sound beyond a muffled squeak.

Everything slows down.  You blink several times.  Even though you dislike Mrs. Schlotsky with a passion that she has well warranted, there is something so unacceptable about her lying face down in a plate of zhizhig-galnash meat dumplings, her brown velvet hat askew on the top of her head.  As time stands still in that first five seconds there is ample time to notice the small details:  her gun-metal grey hoop earrings with a reddish-brown stone at the bottom, the heavy gold chain on her left wrist, the long dark brown strands of hair escaping from the careless chignon style that she favours.  It all seems so pathetic.  For a few seconds everything is silent except for Mr. Schlotsky’s voice, Dagmar, what’s wrong, what is it?

Then, everything speeds up again to the normal pace and everyone is talking at once.

Jaswinder turned and went over to Boris, the manager, who had just looked up from the soccer game he was watching from the bar.  Call for an ambulance, Boris, right away.  Mrs. Schlotsky is ill.  Don’t think that she looked dead, Jaswinder told herself.  Maybe she had just fainted?" 

What?  What’s happened? Boris dragged his eyes away from the game and looked in her direction.

Never mind, Jaswinder, I’ve already called. Right, Manisha had a telephone at reception area at the front door.

Dave, the busser, came over from the kitchen and stood staring for a second.  Do you want me to take the plate away from under her?

Yeah, okay.  CPR, cardio-pulmonary resuscitation; you were supposed to do mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when people collapsed, weren’t you?  Jaswinder had been required to take a class in that for her dental receptionist diploma.  Maybe someone else knew how.  She felt terrible but the thought of kissing Mrs. Schlotsky on the lips . . . she could feel the vomit starting in the back of her mouth.  Does anybody know how to do CPR?  Jaswinder looked hopefully around the restaurant.

Mr. Umarov came striding forward, more quickly than Jaswinder had ever seen the elderly owner move before.  He’d been upstairs in his office on the second floor, hadn’t he?  He must have heard the commotion. 

I was trained in the navy . . . move over. 

At Table 15 Mrs. Schlotsky was now sprawled across the table leaning on her arm.  Dave had taken away the offending plate.  She looked grotesque, her face smeared with meat sauce and a dumpling stuck on the front of her velvet hat now almost entirely off her head.  Mr. Umarov lifted her down from the table and put her on the floor, wiping her face with his shirtsleeve.  He pulled her head back, causing her mouth to open, and began giving the kiss of life, as Jaswinder had heard it called.  Two breaths and then he began chest compressions.  By the time he got to eight, the door opened and the paramedics were in the door.  A pale Mr. Umarov, kneeled back, looking exhausted by the effort or strain, and let them take over. 

Move back, everyone, one of the paramedics ordered and some in the assembled gawkers went back to their meals.  Jaswinder could see several tables start to leave.  One couple left without paying, a couple of women went to the front reception, where Manisha was standing, with their bill. 

The three paramedics had Mrs. Schlotsky on the stretcher with Mr. Schlotsky standing beside, looking helpless.  Have you got a pulse? one of them asked of the other who shook her head, then looked at Mr. Schlotsky.  You’re the husband?  Come with us; you can tell us what you know of her medical history.  They wheeled the gurney out of the restaurant, letting the door close behind them.

The sirens started up and then they were gone.  The whole thing couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes.  What had happened?

Mr. Umarov, looking old and frail, was leaning back on the bar, looking out the window where the ambulance had been parked a moment before.  Then he seemed to rouse himself.  I’m closing the restaurant for the rest of the day.  Boris, take care of it.  He turned and walked slowly out to the kitchen to go back up to his office. 

Boris looked started.  Close, he said close the restaurant?  He looked around as though he was expecting someone to deny what he thought he had heard.  Dana, another server on duty, looked frozen in her place as if waiting for someone to nudge her awake.

That’s right, Boris, he said close the restaurant for the rest of the day.  Jaswinder had been standing a couple of meters away and had clearly heard the old man.

But, but, he’s never . . . we never . . . what about the rest . . .

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Manisha walked over to the front door and turned the sign from OPEN to CLOSED.  I’ll telephone the evening reservations and cancel.  Good thing we’ve got the telephone numbers in the book.

But, but . . .  

Boris, maybe you should call Mrs. Umarov to come in? Dana suggested.

Good idea.  Mr. Umarov hadn’t looked well and one collapse today was enough.  Was it something in the zhizhig-galnash?  She started going around to her tables and told the customers to take their time and finish their meal if they wished but they all seemed inclined to leave.  Jaswinder couldn’t really blame them. 

She spoke up to the customers in her section, Mr. Umarov will be pleased to give you a credit for the meal for your next visit.  Just give your names on the way out, if you like.  She had thought of that on the spur of the moment and fervently hoped that Mr. Umarov would agree with her initiative.  If not, well, he could take it out of her pay.  There were four occupied tables in her section so that would pretty well take her entire pay for the shift.  Almost as one, the customers got up and started to put on their coats and stopped by Manisha to give their names. 

Jas walked over to Asma, the other server on duty that evening, and told her what she had told the customers.  Asma looked stunned and slowly answered, Okay, okay, I’ll tell people that, also. Then she spoke to Dana in her section.

Over the next few minutes the restaurant emptied out.  Jaswinder and Manisha sat down in one of the empty booths.  Dave looked up from his desultory wiping of tables with a worried expression on his face.  Jas moved over and indicated with her hand that he should join them. Now that it was over, she felt completely drained.  Only four weeks on the job and now this.  Was it the end of her grand plan?

CHAPTER  1  November 14 

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It’s not that I don’t like my family, Jaswinder was quick to reassure her best friend, Manisha.   I mean, I love them, even Simratpal and Ashneet are okay for a little brother and sister.   Most of the time, anyway.  I’m sure once they're both a little older we’ll be the best of friends.

Manisha laughed.   Take it from me, Jaswinder, being an only child isn’t preferable.   I mean, I get all the goodies but then I also get the pressure:  To make the family proud, to live up to their expectations.    Right now, I think they’d be happy if I was just employed.

Or married!  Jaswinder retorted.

How about married and employed?    

No, I’ve got it.   Married, employed and the mother of twin boys! They both broke into laughter at this possibility. The two friends were sitting downstairs in Jaswinder’s house in what her parents called the Rec room.  It was cozy and quiet.

I hear that all that stuff regularly.  Manisha responded.    My Mom is always telling me that traditionally girls lived at home until they were married, but I keep telling her times are different.   Plus we’re in a different country.   She knows that, she says, but I’m not sure she believes it.

The past year hadn’t been so fortunate for Manisha.  She’d been laid off from her job as assistant manager in a women’s clothing boutique almost a year earlier and hadn’t been able to find another job in that field.   Now her unemployment insurance benefits were running out and even worse, she told Jaswinder, she felt that her life was going nowhere.    Her last steady boyfriend had been a year ago and the few guys she’d dated since turned out to be losers, as she’d put it.

You know what I’d really like to do, Jas?   I mean, if money was no object.   Her face was serious.

Tell me, Manisha.

I’d like to go back to college and get a diploma in retail management and open my own boutique.   I know I could make a success of it.

I’m sure you could.

Manisha sighed.   Too bad, I’m too old to believe in fairy tales.   She gave her friend a crooked smile.   Do you want some more chips?

Manisha was very fond of potato chips although you wouldn’t know it by looking at her eel-thin figure.   Not like Jaswinder, who seemed to gain weight just by looking at sweets.  It didn’t help that her mother was a terrific cook and was always urged large helpings on her at dinner.   No, I think I’ve had enough.

Let me tell you what I’ve been thinking of lately, Jaswinder said, having decided to add her own blue sky dreams to the conversation.   I’d like to get my own apartment somewhere, decorate it myself, and have Jovan over for dinner, in private. No giggling brother and sister to spoil the mood. Jovan was her boyfriend of over two years.  Last time I saw Jovan, Manisha, he was hinting that engineering might not be his thing.  I think he’d really like to talk it over with me and hear what I have to say.  

Manisha hadn’t heard about this last news.  Oh, that’s too bad.   Will Jovan have to start all over again if he changes to something new?

‘I guess it depends what it is.   He was looking at some programs at the Institute of Technology in Burnaby.    Those programs are two years long and I think he could transfer with his two years of university.    Otherwise, that will be another delay before we can think about getting married.  Not that the word marriage has ever come up."

You don’t want to, you know, put him through school?

No, I think it would be better he keeps living at home until he’s finished.  I know a couple of girls who did that, working at crummy jobs and then as soon as the guy was finished with his education, the marriage was finished, too.   The guy was ready to start earning big bucks and they were at square one.   No, thanks.

I don’t think Jovan would do that, Jas.

No, I don’t think so either but maybe those girls didn’t as well.   Anyway, I want to wait until we’re able to live a reasonable lifestyle, not pinching pennies and eating noodle packs.

I couldn’t survive on noodle packs, Manisha laughed.

Anyway, I can barely support myself.   By the time I’ve made my car payment, paid the car insurance, bought gas and paid my room and board at home, which even I have to admit is a tiny amount, I’m broke.

I’m lucky, my parents said I could skip paying anything until I got work.   And it’s a good thing I never bought a car; I wouldn’t have been able to pay for it this past year.    It’s the loser cruiser for me.

Is the bus really that bad?

Oh, the Sky Train rapid transit is fine, but some of the people on the bus . . . well, let’s just say, garlic is regularly on the menu.

Silence fell on the conversation for a minute until Jaswinder roused herself.    I was reading a book the other day about setting goals for yourself and making them happen.  It was kind of inspiring really.    The main thing is to take one small step towards what you want to do.    Don’t think about the whole project or how impossible it will be to complete.    If you do that you’re guaranteed to fail.    She spoke earnestly; the book had made more of an impression on her than she realized.

One small step, huh?   How small?

Even miniscule counts, according to the book.   It seems that you get some momentum going in the direction you want to go just by doing one little thing.

Well, I guess I could pick up a copy of the college syllabus and look at the business programs they offer.   See if there’s one that’s geared for boutique management.

That’s a great idea, Manisha.  And it wouldn’t cost anything.

Well, what about you, Jas?   What could you do?

The problem is my dream costs money, too.    After I’ve made the payments on my car and my car insurance and put aside money for gas and made my student loan payment, there isn’t enough left for rent.    I was reading that the Greater Vancouver area, including Surrey, has some of the highest housing prices in the country.

The young women leaned back in thought, listening to the dripping rain, relentlessly hitting the window.   November was the worst month in Surrey as far as weather was concerned, unless it was January, with the typical freezing rain and snow that was the worst.  It varied from year to year.

Jaswinder started slowly, "There is