Five belles too many, p.26
Five Belles Too Many, page 26
Crew members and Jane came running out, as did George and Maybelle.
“Grab him,” Flynn yelled. “He’s gone crazy.” One of the cameramen went to do what Flynn asked, but Sarah threw herself in front of him.
“No, it’s Flynn. He’s the one who killed Alan. Hold him!”
In the confusion, crew members pulled Flynn and Cliff apart. Sarah screamed for them to hold on to Flynn, while Flynn yelled that Cliff was the one they should hold. The crew held both.
Sarah pulled her phone out of her pocket and called the police. Officer Robinson answered. “We’ve got Alan and Chef Bernardi’s real killer outside Jane’s Place.”
She wasn’t sure what Officer Robinson responded, but it was only a matter of minutes until Chief Gerard and he pulled up and took in the melee in front of Jane’s Place. Although Jane kept trying to explain things over Flynn’s protests, this time Chief Gerard zeroed in on what Sarah was saying. After hearing her out, he asked Cliff what had happened and then had Officer Robinson take Flynn in.
Holding Cliff’s hand as naturally as she had in the past, Sarah realized that sometimes living in a town five miles square, where everyone knows everyone, had its advantages. Or, in Jane’s case, as Jane walked back into the house without even thanking Cliff or Sarah, its disadvantages.
Sarah was positive Flynn wouldn’t be able to use his smooth voice to talk his way out of this one. She only hoped the notoriety tied to the competition and maybe a good word from Starr to her dad would make things go a little easier for Sam. In the meantime, there was one more segment for Sam to direct.
CHAPTER 38
Sarah sipped her champagne as she glanced across the makeshift dance floor set up at the far end of Southwind’s main dining room. Almost everyone involved with the Southern Belle show had attended Marcus and Emily’s wedding, but none were smiling and dancing like Maybelle and George.
She was sorry to see Sam hadn’t stayed for the festivities. Sarah wasn’t sure if the network would ever employ him again because of his gambling on the outcome of the Southern Belle competition, but no one could fault his direction of the ceremony. It had gone off without a hitch.
Somehow, despite everyone’s differences, during the short amount of time between Marcus and Emily’s substitution as the bride and groom and Sam filming the wedding segment, the various competitors, chaperones, vendors, friends, and family pulled together to make the ceremony and reception more than simply an add-on ending to the competition. Of course, Sarah knew, most of the credit for the wedding being personalized belonged to her mother.
Once Maybelle recovered from the shock of almost winning and learning Flynn tried killing Sarah, her natural take-charge self emerged. Figuring the network wouldn’t mind a few modifications if a wedding took place as announced, Maybelle, without asking permission, called Suzy at Suzy’s Flowers, Wanda and Grace at Southwind, and many of her friends in Birmingham and Wheaton. The result was a bouquet more to Emily’s liking, additions to the cake and food reflecting the bride and groom, and a room overflowing with people Emily and Marcus cherished.
A touch to her arm made Sarah jump, almost spilling her champagne. She turned to see Heather and Veronica beside her.
Heather lifted her own champagne glass toward where Emily and Marcus danced. “Emily looks beautiful.”
“She was absolutely radiant coming down the aisle,” Veronica added. “I can’t imagine how the group winning dress could have looked as good on anyone else.”
“Emily owes that to Barbie. Knowing how her mother worked magic on her pageant dresses over the years, Starr, when she learned that Emily was going to be the bride, made peace with her mother. She convinced Barbie to help the show’s costumer nip and tuck the dress to fit Em like a glove.”
“They did an excellent job and I’m glad to hear Starr and Barbie made up. There’s nothing worse than being on the outs with your mother.” Veronica put her arm around Heather.
“No, there’s not.” Heather leaned into the hug her daughter gave her while drinking the last of her champagne. “Speaking of looking good, Cliff and you certainly made a picture-perfect maid of honor and best man.”
Sarah squirmed at Heather’s compliment. “That was all Sam’s doing. He positioned us just so in case the makeup didn’t perfectly cover the black eye Flynn gave Cliff while they were fighting.”
“Sam did well. I didn’t even notice.” Heather laughed as she moved away from her daughter. “Tell me, in all the commotion, I never did find out how you figured out Flynn killed Alan and Chef Bernardi?”
“It was sort of an accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I knew Chef Bernardi and Alan died of nicotine poisoning, but I couldn’t think of another link between their deaths until, as we walked back to Jane’s Place, Flynn pulled his leather cigar case out of his pocket. You see, last night he complained about having to use one of the plastic cases because he’d lost his leather one.”
“Apparently he found it after the two of you talked,” Heather said.
Sarah waited as Heather, stopping a waiter passing by with a tray of full champagne glasses, exchanged her empty glass for one two-thirds full of golden liquid.
“That was my first thought, but as Flynn and I neared Southwind’s back porch, seeing the porch railings triggered everything together in my mind.”
“How?”
“I had a flashback of Chef Bernardi palming something thin from the railing before he went into Southwind. Coupling that with Jane saying Chef Bernardi, who wasn’t known for being a smoker, had a leather cigar case when he went outside for a smoke, made me realize Flynn’s case was what Chef Bernardi probably picked up off the railing. I surmised that the case fell from Chef Bernardi’s hand or pocket and Flynn retrieved it when he upended Chef Bernardi into the dishwasher.”
“Instead of wrestling him into the dishwasher, it seems like it would have been simpler to leave Chef Bernardi on the floor.”
“It would have been, Heather, but Flynn thought the scalding water would wash away any traces of nicotine from Chef Bernardi’s hands and clothing.”
“I get it,” Veronica said. “He must have hoped a soaking from a commercial dishwasher would keep people from realizing how much direct contact with nicotine Chef Bernardi had when he made the cake.”
“That’s right. Of course, think-aloud person that I am, I shared my thoughts as they came to me with Flynn. I’m just lucky he didn’t have a vial of nicotine in his pocket, or I might not have been the maid of honor this afternoon.”
“Oh, look,” Veronica interrupted, “Emily is getting ready to throw the bouquet. I’m taken, but the two of you should try to catch it.”
Dutifully, Heather and Sarah obeyed just as Emily released the bouquet. Arms were raised upward, ready to catch the bouquet, but Sarah, considering her newly developed Cliff-Glenn quandary, stepped away from the melee, her hands to her side. Hearing Maybelle shout her name, Sarah looked up—and instinctively caught the falling bouquet.
Chef Bernardi’s Breakfast Biscuits
Depending upon how big you cut them, this recipe makes 1–3 dozen biscuits
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons cubed butter
¾ cup milk (this can be adjusted as needed)
1 large bowl; 1 small biscuit cutter; skillet
Preheat the oven to 425 degrees.
In the large bowl, combine the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt.
Cut the butter into the mixture—keep at it until it begins to look like cornmeal.
With your fingers, make a well in the middle of your combined ingredients.
Slowly add milk into the middle, while kneading the dough with your fingers. Add more milk as necessary.
On a lightly floured surface, roll out the dough to your desired thickness.
Cut out biscuits to the size you want. Note: The number of biscuits you will get out of the recipe reflects your cutting size (very small—more like pull-a-parts, equals 3 dozen, but larger-sized ones may only produce a dozen).
Butter the bottom of the skillet.
Place the biscuits in it.
Bake 12 minutes or until golden.
Chef Wanda’s Honey Baked Apples
6 servings
6 green apples
1½ cup of cranberries (works best with fresh ones)
2¼ cups of water
¾ cup of packed brown sugar
3 tablespoons of honey
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
Core the apples, removing the peel from the top third of each apple.
Place the apples in a baking dish.
Fill the core holes with cranberries.
In a small saucepan, mix the water, brown sugar, and honey.
Bring to a boil. Note: Stir occasionally, making sure, if necessary, the sugar and honey dissolves.
Once boiled, pour the hot mixture over the apples.
Bake one hour at 350 degrees. Every fifteen to twenty minutes, baste with the juices.
Serve with vanilla ice cream.
Wanda’s Baked Pears
4 servings
4 Bartlett pears (use ripe pears)
¾ cup of brown sugar
¾ cup oats
½ teaspoon nutmeg
1 teaspoon cinnamon
6 tablespoons butter
1½ cups apple juice (you can use two six-ounce cans inside)
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Core the Bartlett pears, but do not peel them.
Place pears in a greased 9” square pan.
Combine the sugar, oats, spices, and butter until crumbly.
Stuff pears with the combined mixture. Any excess may be allowed to fall into the pan.
Pour ¾ cup apple juice into the pan.
Bake for one hour at 350 degrees, basting after thirty minutes. If necessary, add more juice.
Cool for thirty minutes, then serve.
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Debra H. Goldstein, Five Belles Too Many
