Chili con corpses, p.8
Chili Con Corpses, page 8
Milla poured everyone a glass of wine. “I love these pottery cups. No worries about spilling. Now, a toast.” She raised her glass. “To healing.”
“To healing,” the rest of the group chimed in.
“I feel a bit better!” Gillian declared. “And it’s so refreshing to have some vegetarian delicacies. Thank you for being so sensitive about our needs, Milla.”
Milla beamed. “Well, I’m not all about the greens, my dear, and I hope you’re not too disappointed, for tonight we are making Spanish pork chops and vegetable paella.” She consulted a notebook and screwed up her lips. “Wait a tick. I forgot to put out the saffron. Back in a jiffy.”
Her pupils munched on the tapas and sipped their wine. James sampled every dish with the exception of the fried almonds and green olives, concerned that Doc Spratt would disapprove of him selecting such salty snacks.
“That woman is a gem,” Bennett commented as he chewed the flesh from an olive.
“These mushroom fritters are heavenly,” Lindy said, dabbing her mouth with the corner of her apron.
While Milla was busy in the pantry, Murphy set her wine cup down and cleared her throat. “I want to start my own investigation into Parker’s murder, and I’d like you to help me, if you’re willing. I’d like to hear everything you remember about Mr. Sneed once our food is in the oven.”
James spoke for the group. “We’ll tell you everything we can remember, Murphy.”
The students took their positions at the cooking spaces and listened to Milla’s instructions on how to trim the fat from their meat. After chopping some tomatoes and garlic cloves, James began to slice a green bell pepper. He didn’t plan to eat the flavorful vegetable, however, as it had given him terrible indigestion his entire life. Setting his prepared vegetables aside in tidy piles, he recounted Mr. Sneed’s physical details to Murphy.
“He had a short beard that was more gray than black, a pretty prominent hooked nose, a big forehead with lots of horizontal lines, and teeth as yellow as a daffodil,” James said as he removed the browned chops from a frying pan coated with olive oil. Next, he poured some white wine into the pan and tossed in a few sprigs of rosemary, finding it difficult to concentrate on cooking and talking at the same time. “I shared every detail with the police. None of them seem to make a difference, especially since I couldn’t see the man’s eyes behind those sunglasses or much of his hair beneath that fishing hat.”
“Did he ever take the hat or glasses off?” Murphy inquired sharply, dropping garlic cloves into her pan without even looking at what she was doing.
James shook his head. “No, not even inside the caves.”
“What about his body? Anything exceptional?”
“Sneed seemed pretty padded around the gut—not unlike myself—but his arms and legs were on the thin side. He walked with a shuffle and, well, he walked like an older person, like a grandfather.”
Murphy stirred the contents of her pan absently. “Nothing struck you as unusual then?”
“I thought his skin tone was odd,” James answered. “It was kind of orange. It didn’t seem to go with the wrinkles and the age spots.” He paused. “I guess it’s because around here, older people are pale in the late fall. I mean, this is a far cry from Miami Beach. And,” he added, “the color looked kind of uneven.”
“Sounds almost like a self-tanning cream.” Murphy looked at her palms. “I tried that stuff once and the inside of my hands and my ear lobes turned a pale orange. Was it like that?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried to tan myself before, using lotion, the sun, or those beds with the lights.” He smiled at her. “There are fish that live miles deep in the ocean that have more pigment than my skin does. I pour on the sunblock by the bottleful and head for the shade with a book.”
Murphy returned his smile. “I’m going to stop by the library on Monday with some of that tanning lotion and then you can tell me if it looks like Mr. Sneed’s skin.”
“But why does it matter if he used tanner?” James wondered.
“It might not have been self-tanner. Sneed could have been wearing makeup to cover up his real face and that would be some kind of lead.” She placed her chops in the oven. “And right now, that’s better than what I’ve got, which is nothing.”
As James put his pork in the oven for the necessary ten minutes, the other supper club members provided Murphy with their own descriptions of Mr. Sneed. The most memorable things about him were his enormous sunglasses and the awful hue of his teeth.
“His clothes looked like thrift-store wear,” Bennett stated. “I know that Sears put out that blazer in the late seventies. Shoot, it was on the cover of their 1978 holiday catalogue, and my mama kept every one of those things. For what reason I’ll never understand. Women!”
Gillian looked thoughtful. “You know, I thought it unusual that he was only fat in the tummy. The rest of him seemed almost skinny. He looked like he was a pregnant movie star wearing a turtleneck. Maybe,” she whispered, “it was a disguise! Like one of those baby bellies they try to get teenage girls to try on!”
“Actually, I think that’s a possibility, Gillian.” Murphy donned an oven mitt and pulled her finished chops from the oven. She then stepped away so that the others could follow suit. “I think this guy wore makeup, some kind of false belly, thrift store clothes, and possibly a fake beard and wig. Any markings on the hat?”
“Just a fishing fly,” James said. “It was feathery. Looked like a red bug with black wings.”
Murphy got excited. “That might be an important clue, James! I’m going to bring you a fly-fishing catalogue along with the tanning cream.”
“Okay, my dears! Enough chitchat for the moment,” Milla broke in. “We’ve got paella to make!”
For the next half an hour, James chopped vegetables and listened to Milla’s lecture on the significance of saffron in making authentic paella. They were allowed to choose which vegetables they added to their rice mixture, and James was more than happy to avoid the heads of broccoli. He had never liked the feel of broccoli florets on his tongue.
At last, their main course was wrapped and ready to go home. After they spooned their paella into Tupperware containers, they each thanked Milla for teaching them two delectable new dishes. James felt as though their fragmented group had come together strongly as a result of Milla’s positive influence and from sharing their thoughts with Murphy. It had felt like a genuine supper club meeting, even without Lucy’s presence. Thinking of her caused a pang of misery in his gut, and he didn’t hear Murphy speak until she tapped him on the arm.
“Sorry, I missed that.”
“I said, how about dinner tomorrow night?” Murphy asked again as they headed to their cars bearing warm take-out containers. “You can tell Lucy that it’s a working date.”
James paused next to his Bronco. “I don’t need to tell her anything. We broke up.”
Murphy’s face filled with concern. It was not the reaction James had anticipated. He thought she’d give him a dose of her flippant flirtation, but she was genuinely distressed for him. “On top of everything else that’s happened lately?” She shook her head. “Man, oh man. Are you okay?”
Touched by her show of tenderness, James nodded. “I will be. Let’s go to Dolly’s tomorrow for dinner. I believe I’ve owed you a cheeseburger for almost a year.”
“I believe you have,” Murphy said with a smile, and then she waved goodbye.
Milla’s Vegetable Paella
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 large onion, chopped
8 garlic cloves, minced fine
2 cups long-grain brown rice
4 cups vegetable stock
1 pound tomatoes, coarsely chopped
1 medium red bell pepper, chopped
1 medium green bell pepper, chopped
1 small eggplant, cubed
1 medium zucchini, cubed
1⁄2 cup sliced black olives
1 teaspoon saffron
1 teaspoon sea salt
1⁄2 teaspoon black pepper
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. In a large saucepan, heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil and cook the onion over a medium heat, stirring until translucent. Add the vegetable stock, rice, and saffron. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to simmer and cook, covered, for about 30 minutes. Remove from heat. While the rice is cooking, heat the remaining 3 tablespoons of the oil in a large saucepan and add chopped garlic, red pepper, green pepper, eggplant, zucchini, olives, sea salt, and pepper. Sauté until the peppers are tender (about 5 minutes). Gently stir the tomatoes and the rice mixture into vegetables. Transfer the mixture to a greased casserole dish. Cover with aluminum foil and bake for 10–15 minutes.
(If some of these vegetables aren’t to your liking, trade one of them out for ½ cup sliced mushrooms, a carrot, a celery stalk, or a cup of fresh or frozen peas.)
When James stepped inside Dolly’s Diner on Sunday night, he felt unusually serene. That morning, he had gone to church and three of his favorite hymns had been selected for the service. After lunch, he and his father had chopped firewood and enjoyed the fruits of their labor by drinking coffee in front of a crackling fire. For several pleasant hours, James was absorbed in Ron McLarty’s The Memory of Running, and Jackson perused the paper. At the end of the long and relaxing afternoon, James told his father that he had dinner plans, but promised to bring home a dessert from Dolly’s.
Jackson, who had been on the edge of a sulk over being forced to open a can of soup for dinner and a package of oyster crackers, perked up. “If ole Clint’s made his pumpkin cheesecake pie with the graham-cracker crust, bring me two pieces.”
Clint, Dolly’s husband and the chief cook of Dolly’s Diner, must have had pumpkin on the brain. The daily special board announced pumpkin soup, pumpkin mashed potatoes, pumpkin muffins, and pumpkin cheesecake pie. Fortunately, Clint couldn’t work pumpkin into a meat dish, and his famous Sunday brisket was the featured entrée.
“Professor!” Dolly greeted him at the door with a strange mix of pleasure and alarm. Her plump cheeks were more flushed than usual, and she fanned her large bosom with a dishtowel. Reaching behind her head as if to restructure the loose bun of hair, she glanced over her shoulder and grabbed James by the elbow.
“Your favorite booth is free, hon. Come on with me.” As they walked, Dolly was practically glued to his side. Her bulk forced James to graze all the booths to his right as they made their way to the back of the room. Twice, he knocked the elbows of other diners and had to apologize. Dolly chatted feverishly along the way, and though she was always loquacious, she was never in a hurry, so James knew that something was afoot.
“Here we are!” she trilled once they had reached the booth decorated with coconut shells, a grass skirt, some colorful leis, two small tiki torches, and a large poster of an inviting cobalt sea bordering a strip of gleaming sand.
Clint had traveled all over when he was in the navy and he and Dolly had collected unique souvenirs from every port. James preferred this booth because he liked to gaze at the poster of paradise and fantasize about going there one day. Normally, strolling on the beach alongside Lucy had been a part of that fantasy, but now he could only envision walking alone.
“I think I’ll switch booths tonight, Dolly,” he stated a touch morosely. “Change is good, right?”
Dolly’s bosom fanning stopped abruptly. “But why? You always sit here.” She gave him a little push into the seat that faced away from the rest of the dining room. “You can twist things in a knot next time you come, but I like things to stay nice and predictable-like, so take a load off and I’ll bring you some diet root beer.” She took the pencil from her bun and held it in the air over a blank pad. James had never known her to actually write down an order and it didn’t look like she’d be starting any time soon. “Unless you’re not on that diet anymore?” Dolly questioned.
“No, diet root beer’s great. I’ll order a bit later, Dolly. I’m waiting for a friend.”
As she ambled off, James turned to watch her progress toward the kitchen, still curious as to why she was acting so peculiar. Then, he saw the reason behind Dolly’s agitation. Lucy was seated between James and the diner counter. Even though he was looking at the back of her head, he knew it was her caramel-colored hair and the soft curve of her cheek. He recognized her round shoulder clad in her favorite deep blue sweater, the one that brought out her cornflower-blue eyes so that they sparkled like a moving stream.
Lucy was not alone. In fact, the person facing in James’s direction was, without a doubt, the best-looking man James had ever seen. Despite himself, he stared at the individual who could have been an actor, a model, or the cover face for the “Sexiest Man Alive” edition of People Magazine. The stranger was probably in his late twenties and had a strong jaw, a straight nose, and shining golden-brown hair. His skin was clean-shaven and radiated a sense of good health. His sweater, which looked like a soft, touchable cashmere, was stretched tightly over a firm torso and muscular arms. He had pushed the sleeves up in order to eat, and his forearms rippled with each movement.
Suddenly, he laughed at something Lucy said, and James caught a glimpse of his captivating smile and the pair of dimples that had sprouted in his smooth cheeks. He then heard the man respond to Lucy’s joke using a deep and masculine voice that resonated with confidence and warmth. Finally, the man noticed James staring and raised a hand in friendly greeting. Lucy swiveled around in her seat and red patches resembling raspberries quickly speckled her cheeks and neck.
She said something quietly to her dinner partner, wiped her mouth hastily with her napkin, and walked over to James, who was seething with jealousy.
“Hi,” she said, sounding nervous. “Can I sit for a minute?”
James shrugged and Lucy took the seat across from him.
“That’s my friend, Sullie. We’re training together.”
“I bet,” James muttered.
Lucy’s flush grew deeper. “We’re not, uh, a couple or anything. We just work out at the gym and stuff. He’s applying to become a deputy, too, and I’ve been helping him prepare for the written exam.”
James couldn’t control the anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. “Is that what you were doing all those nights you blew me off? And your friends? Hanging out with that slab of meat over there?” He jerked his thumb in the young man’s direction.
Lucy’s face darkened. “Don’t call him that! He’s a really nice guy. Not all of us have read half the books in the library, you know.” Her eyes flicked back to Sullie. “Just because he doesn’t have enough degrees to plaster a bathroom with doesn’t mean that he’s some mimbo!”
Taking a sip of water, James tried to clear his head. “A mimbo? That’s a new one. That mimbo’s the reason why we broke up, isn’t he? It was never about you wanting to get married or about us not having sex before marriage.” He lowered his voice, growing more and more enraged. “It was just about not having sex with me! Were you already banging Mr. Perfect? Is that why you kept pushing me away?”
“No!” Lucy shouted and then covered her mouth with her hand. She twisted her silver necklace around and around her index finger. “God, James! Give me some credit. But … I do have feelings for him.” She looked down at her lap. “Actually, I have feelings for both of you, but then you seemed to want out, so you basically made the choice for me. I didn’t plan for things to get this messy and I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you about how confused I was, and I shouldn’t have mentioned getting married, either. God knows I’m not ready for a walk down the aisle.”
“But everything’s all cleared up now, right?” James hissed. “You’ve got your new man after, what?” he pretended to check his watch. “All of five minutes after quitting on us?”
Lucy glanced in Sullie’s direction. “He doesn’t know.” She swallowed hard. “And I’m not exactly over you, James.”
“Sure looks like you’re doing a pretty good job to me.” James could barely think straight. He looked around for some kind of escape. “Oh, here comes Dolly with more root beer. You’d better get back to your date.”
Lucy shot out of her seat. “Fine! I won’t keep you any longer.” She turned away and strode smack into Murphy.
“Hi, Lucy.” Murphy gave an awkward laugh as she pushed her hair back into place, as her headband had gone askew in the collision. “Where’s the fire?”
Lucy ignored her and turned to James. She glanced at her watch and spat, “Five minutes, huh? You hypocrite!” She returned to her table and seconds later, she and Sullie the Beautiful left the diner.
Murphy studied James’s face as she sat down. “You okay?”
“Yes.” James nodded. “Starving for a piece of brisket, though. You still having a cheeseburger?”
“With a mountain of French fries in gravy, yep.”
Dolly came over and took their orders, her eyes gleaming over having witnessed the scene between James and Lucy. James knew that her tongue would be wagging like a dog’s tail until everyone in Quincy’s Gap knew about their falling out.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Murphy said. “It just seems like you could use a friend right now.”
“I’d rather focus on Parker,” he told Murphy. “Have you thought about motive at all?”
While they waited for their dinners, Murphy told James all she knew about the Willis sisters.
“Money could have been the motive, but I can’t figure out how,” she began. “Both Parker and Kinsley are heiresses. Apparently, their father was a real bioengineering wizard. He invented a strain of drought-resistant grain that most of the farms in the Midwest swear by, and he also made marked improvements to threshers and some other equipment I wouldn’t know the first thing about. The bottom line is, both the girls are worth a few million each.”
