Moonshine and Malice

by J Lee Mitchell

  Q’Bita hated turning her back on anyone who needed help, but her father and Jock didn’t seem overly concerned and she had a ton of things to get finished before the launch party. She gave them both a hug and ducked back into the office to check on Jamie.

  “What the heck was all that about?” Jamie asked.

  “I’m not sure but I don’t think it’s anything good. Can you do some discrete snooping for me this afternoon?”

  Jamie’s whole face lit up.

  “I’m on it like a bonnet, Q’B-Doll. Just tell me what you need to know.”

  “I want to know more about our guest, Mr. Marini, and those two big guard dogs stalking Henri. Oh, and see what you can find about a company called Cortez Shipping LLC.”

  “Got it. Now go do chefy things and let me get cracking on the hacking.”

  “Okay, I’m going, but please don’t get caught.”

  “Q’B-Doll, how many times do I have to tell you—”

  “Yes, I know, you’re a professional, blah blah blah.”

  Jamie shot her in the butt with a rubber band as she left the office, and it stung all the way to the kitchen.

  Chapter 10

  Q’Bita was so busy putting the finishes touches on the food for that evening’s cocktail reception that she’d forgotten all about her stinging butt cheek and her concerns for Henri. The side door of the kitchen opened with a squeak and she looked up to see Lyle Chalford standing in front of her.

  “Mr. Chalford, how can I help you?”

  “I seriously doubt there is anything you could do to help me considering that you’ve made the poor decision to waste a first-rate culinary education on the unrefined palates of rural Appalachia.”

  “Mr. Chalford, has anyone ever told you that some of the things you say can be a bit off-putting at times?”

  “Frankly, Miss Block, I find the opinions of others to be a bit like pie crusts. Shiny on the surface, flaky, and always inferior to my own. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to retrieve my mise en place from your walk-in so I can get this contest over with and get back to civilization.”

  “I’m curious, if you find Castle Creek and its citizens so objectionable, then why enter the cooking contest in the first place?”

  Lyle snorted then pulled himself together. “Social Proof Moonshine is one of the hottest, fastest rising stars in the food and beverage industry. Most of these hillbillies are here for the $10,000. I, on the other hand, couldn't care less about a few thousand dollars. It’s the national advertising campaign and promotional tour that interests me. Landing a sponsor like Social Proof Moonshine could make me a bona fide celebrity.”

  Q’Bita had so many replies running through her mind but decided not to bother. People like Lyle Chalford were oblivious to their own personality flaws, and pointing them out was about as useful as herding cats.

  Lyle didn’t bother excusing himself as he pushed his way past her to the walk-in. The squeak of the door drew her attention again and she started to wonder if she’d ever get done before the party. A wave of relief washed over her as her nana, Evie, and Rene came in.

  “You can stop panicking, Q’Bita. We’re here to rescue you. I hope you don’t mind that we brought Evie. I know how you feel about animals in the kitchen.”

  Evie jabbed Rene in the ribs with her elbow and he let out an overly dramatic yelp of fake pain. “He’s just trying to distract you from the fact that he’s got Rolfie tucked away in that man bag he’s sporting, and they plan to rob you of all your cream.”

  Rene pulled Rolfie out of the bag and cradled him like a baby. “Don’t you listen to that mean old goat, my precious. Papa promised you cream and I won’t disappoint you.”

  Rene was still scratching the oversized feline's belly and babbling in baby talk when Lyle reappeared from the back.

  “Dear God, what is that beast doing in the kitchen? Do you make a habit of violating Health Department regulations? I swear to you that I will sue you into next year if my ingredients have been compromised in any way by this… this…”

  “Calm down, Mr. Chalford. Rolfie is not allowed in the kitchen, and Rene was just about to take him back outside. I assure you that nothing has compromised your ingredients.”

  Liddy Lou was about to say something when Lyle cut her off.

  “Madame, please save your breath. I’ve had all the idle chit-chat I can take for one day, and nothing you could say would improve my opinion of you people or this establishment in any way.”

  Lyle turned on his heel and waltzed out the side door letting it bang shut behind him.

  “Well, ain’t he just about as ornery as a rabid possum?” Evie asked.

  “I’d say so, and for the record, I think it was terrible how he referred to you as a beast,” Rene said.

  “Okay, you two, let’s give it a rest until we get all this food finished up and get Q’Bita out there enjoying the party,” Liddy Lou scolded.

  The rest of the afternoon was so hectic that Q’Bita was exhausted when she finally took her seat at the judges' table. She rested her aching feet as her parents kicked off the celebration with a welcome toast and announced the opening of the Hooch Garden where guests could sample homemade moonshine and vote for their favorite. The winning moonshine would be one of the ingredients featured in the final round of the cooking competition.

  An hour later the guests had polished off the hors d’oeuvres, and the Social Proof Moonshine cooking contest got under way. The competition was fierce. Contestants hammed it up and smack-talked each other as they put on a show for the crowd. Most seemed to be enjoying themselves, except for Lyle Chalford, who ended up at a station next to Jock Hansen. Lyle was livid about the smoke coming from Jock’s station, and was pitching a fit, claiming it was tainting on his highly trained palate.

  Jock appeared to be doing his best to ignore Lyle’s incessant whining but Q’Bita noticed that something seemed to have him rattled. He didn’t look angry, or nervous, but he wasn’t his usual jovial self. He worked quickly and quietly, giving the occasional wave or smile when one of the locals would stop by his station but it seemed forced to Q’Bita, and more than once she noticed Jock scanning the crowd as if he were looking for someone.

  The scent of all the different dishes made Q’Bita’s mouth water, and she was glad when the contestants started coming forward with their entries. She was several bites into an amazing peach cobbler that had just the right balance of moonshine to peach juice in the glaze when she noticed Jock in heated conversation with two men. She’d seen them around but only knew their first names.

  Earl, the smaller of the two men, was doing most of the talking while Beanie scowled and bobbed his head in agreement. She was too far away, and there was too much chit-chat going on around her to make out what they were saying but she could tell Jock was getting frustrated. She scanned the crowd looking for Andy, thinking that if she could get his attention, she could get him to go check on his pap, but she didn’t see him.

  She was just about to get up and go check on Jock herself when she noticed him escorting the two men out of his station. As the two walked away, Earl turned back to Jock and said something which caused Jock to shake his head and wave the two away. Earl started back towards Jock until Beanie grabbed him. Earl yelled something, gave Jock the finger, and then stomped off grumbling at Beanie.

  A few minutes later, when Jock reached the judges' table, he smiled at Q’Bita as if nothing had just happened.

  “Here you go, darling. I saved the best slice of brisket just for you. Not that I’m trying to influence your vote or anything,” Jock said, laughing.

  “Jock, is everything okay? It looked like things were a little heated with Earl and Beanie.”

  “Oh now, don’t go worrying yourself about all that. Those boys are just a little riled up but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Do you think you should say something to Andy, just in case they come back?”

  “No, they’ll be fine, but there is someth
ing I need to discuss with him. If he stops by, will you let him know that I’m looking for him?”

  “Sure, but if there’s something wrong maybe we should call him instead of waiting.”

  “Nope, nothing important at all. Now dig in and mark me down as the winner on one of those little cards there,” Jock said, motioning to the stack of cards near her elbow.

  Q’Bita took a big bite of the brisket and let out a little moan as hints of ginger, tomato, garlic, caramelized peach, and just the perfect amount of smoke danced across her tongue. The meat was done to perfection, and there was no doubt in her mind that Jock had earned her vote for best dish.

  “Now that’s what I like to see, a woman who knows good ‘que when she tastes it,” Jock said.

  Q’Bita took another bite and gave Jock two thumbs up as she savored her sample. A loud cough drew her attention and she noticed Lyle Chalford glaring at her impatiently.

  “Can we please dispense with the banal banter and allow the rest of us to present our dishes? I refuse to lose this competition because the judges tasted my entry at less than optimal temperature.”

  Jock rolled his eyes at her and made his way back to his station. After a few seconds of listening to Lyle blathering on about his dish she stopped listening and decided to text Andy to see where he was.

  Her phone dinged just as Lyle sat his dish in front of her. She glanced toward her phone but before she could read Andy’s reply, Lyle leaned across the table towards her.

  “Ms. Block, it’s not every day I go to such arduous lengths to prepare a dish for a panel of people who wouldn’t know haute cuisine if it bit them on the arse, but seeing as you’re the only member of this panel who has anything even resembling a palate, I’d appreciate your undivided attention as you experience my entry.”

  Q’Bita could usually bring herself to find the good in any person but when it came to Lyle Chalford, she had to admit defeat. Everything about the man infuriated her. She was torn between telling him off and tasting his dish to get him off the stage. She silently reminded herself that this weekend was about the launch of her parents’ new book and she needed to be a supportive adult even if it meant placating someone she’d rather strangle.

  Q’Bita stared at the towering sample in front of her and noticed several of her fellow judges turning their plates, trying to figure out what they were looking at. Castle Creek was a laid-back kind of place where the most pretentious type of food one might find would be the Diner’s Crepes Suzette, or Suzie’s Pancakes, as the locals liked to call them.

  She had to give him credit, his dish had been meticulously composed and was quite beautiful. It had a base of rosemary-braised white beans and spinach, topped with a layer of caramelized tomatoes and onions that cradled a succulent looking piece of crisped pork belly, topped with shaved truffles and a quail egg poached in its own shell.

  She stifled a giggle as she heard one of the judges ask another what in the Sam Hill was he supposed to do with this goopy jelly bean looking thing on top. Lyle winced and made a small choking noise. To her surprise, Q’Bita found herself feeling a little bad for him and decided it would be best to take the high road to kindness.

  “Beautifully done, Mr. Chalford. Why don’t you tell us what inspired your dish?”

  For once, Lyle looked genuinely appreciative and launched into another long, self-serving story. As he spoke, she carefully plucked the egg from its truffle nest and tipped it onto the top of the stack, then gently pierced it with her fork, breaking the yolk and letting it ooze down the sides of the stack. The other judges then followed suit and began tasting Lyle’s dish.

  Q’Bita picked up on a few flaws that most people wouldn’t even notice, but overall the dish was fantastic and worthy of a spot in the top five. She filled out her score card noting that the rosemary had been a bit overpowering in the braised bean layer and the moonshine wasn’t really popping as well as it should in the caramelized tomato and onions. The part of her that found Lyle pretentious and annoying wanted to slam him for using poor quality Chinese Black truffle, but she decided against it.

  The judges’ comments were supposed to be anonymous and meant to help those moving to the final round of the competition, and she had to abide by the rules. Still, it chafed her a little, because Lyle acted like he was God’s gift to the culinary world and she would have thought he, of all people, would avoid the use of inferior quality ingredients.

  Lyle had been the last contestant to present his dish, and it was now time for the judges to confer and choose the top five contestants that would be moving on to the final round of the competition. Q’Bita suggested they hold their discussion in the cooking school kitchen, and the rest of the judges were more than happy to get a few minutes in the air conditioning. The walk to Culinary Forensics also gave her time to finally read Andy’s text.

  “Hello, gorgeous. Sorry I’m missing all the fun. This head of security title has turned Chance into an even bigger dick than usual. He has Mikey and I on parking detail. We’re over at the Newsomes’ and getting these people to follow directions is like teaching penguins to roller-skate. It scares the bejeezus out of me that these same people are going to be sampling ‘shine and then trying to drive.”

  She only had a few seconds to answer back as they settled into the kitchen. She decided not to mention anything about Jock since it would just add more stress to what sounded like an already bad day and instead went with, “Miss you. Hope you get a chance to stop by the party soon.”

  The judging went more smoothly than Q’Bita had anticipated, with almost everyone in agreement as to who the top five finishers were. After a short discussion, the final five were selected and Q’Bita was elated to see that Jock had been everyone’s first or second choice. Of course, Lyle had made the cut, as had Edna Cooley, who’d made the amazing peach cobbler that Q’Bita couldn’t stop eating. Cletus King’s Shiny Honey Gold Wings, and Constance Cooper’s Mile High Flambéed Cherry Pie rounded out the finalists.

  On the way back to the stage Q’Bita noticed a large black limousine parked in front of the barn. It stuck out like a sore thumb next to the muddy pickup trucks and side-by-sides that one saw most often in Castle Creek. A small, well-dressed man stood next to the limo, holding a puppy that looked like Allegro.

  As she reached her seat on the stage, Q’Bita saw Henri and his companions exit the barn. Henri looked terrified, and the two men seemed to be forcing him towards the limo. One of the men opened the back, driver’s side door, and the other shoved Henri inside the car. The small man said a few words then turned and looked directly at her as if he knew she’d been watching. He glared at her for a few seconds before entering the car. A shiver of dread rippled down her spine as the car drove off.

  Q’Bita had been so focused on what was occurring at the barn that she’d completely missed the announcement of the finalists, who were now standing a few feet away on the stage. The CEO of Social Proof Moonshine had just finished congratulating the finalists and was going over the rules for the final competition.

  Jock looked more relaxed than he had earlier. Lyle, on the other hand, was having a meltdown over the last-minute announcement that each finalist was going to be working with a mystery basket and a partner, who needed to prepare at least twenty percent of the final entry. Q’Bita almost snorted out loud at Lyle’s reaction to the news that the partners were going to be the top five finalists in the Miss Moonshine Contest.

  The finalists were presented with their partner and the mystery basket, which contained a whole chicken, a pound of thick-sliced smoked bacon, pecan rice, and a one-quart mason jar of Pappy Jock’s Heavenly Hooch.

  Q’Bita saw her dad doing an awkward victory dance when he realized the peach moonshine that he and Jock had worked so hard on was the winner of the taster’s choice competition and would now be used on all the final competition dishes.

  Carter Hawkins congratulated Jock and then reminded the finalists that all the items must be present in their dish
and that they were free to use any other ingredients they wanted. They were given two and a half hours to prepare their dish.

  As someone who made her living planning and preparing food for others, Q’Bita knew how quickly time could slip by and how stressful it was to work under pressure. She was relieved to see Jock and Constance both fall into their grooves with ease. Lyle was in control but kept treating his partner like she was gum on the bottom of his kitchen clogs. She looked like she might pick up one of his overpriced knives and shank him with it. Cletus was completely flustered, and his partner had to take over most of the cooking. Poor Edna Cooley had cut herself trying to fabricate the chicken and was still in the emergency tent getting stitched up.

  When the timer finally sounded, all the activity in the stations came to a stop and the remaining four contestants came forward with their dishes. Cletus was the first to present his dish of fried chicken on a bed of rice pilaf. Sadly, both his chicken and the rice were undercooked, and the moonshine overpowered the dish.

  Constance presented her cheesy chicken, bacon, and rice casserole next. Her attempt to marinate the chicken in the moonshine had been a great idea but hadn’t been well executed. The chicken was rubbery, and the moonshine hadn’t emulsified well into the heavy cream-based cheese sauce.

  Jock was next, and Q’Bita was glad to see that he’d chosen to use the same Peach Moonshine BBQ sauce he’d used on his brisket to glaze his bacon-wrapped stuffed chicken breast. His stuffing included the pecan rice, pecans, and dried cherries that he’d rehydrated in the moonshine. She made a mental note to steal his stuffing recipe for one of her fall cooking classes. One glance down the table told Q’Bita that Jock was scoring points with her fellow judges.

  Lyle presented last and, as before, his dish looked more like a work of art than food. He had poached his chicken in bacon-infused moonshine and paired it with a side of pecan rice studded with pomegranate seeds and topped with more shaved truffle. While it may have looked pretty, it just didn’t deliver. Q’Bita had eaten far better poached chicken, and the moonshine hadn’t achieved the same effect as the vinegar she assumed he was trying to imitate. His rice was over-seasoned with the same heavy handedness as his braised beans. The best part of the dish were the shaved truffles, which, to Q’Bita’s surprise, were the real, high quality Italian white truffle this time.