Deadly Diet

by Kodi Heart

  Deadly Diet

  Book 1 Dying to Eat series

  Kodi Heart

  Deadly Diet

  The only thing getting between Bonnie and those last 30 - okay, 40 - pounds of baby weight, is a dead body... and her grandma's cinnamon rolls.

  Joining with a national diet club, Bonnie and her mom search for a killer while trying to avoid the ice cream shop next door and the demands of work and kids. Small town murder never tasted so good.

  Will they find the killer, or will the newest diet be the death of them all?

  Start this series and join the family on their quest to lose weight with a piece of cake on their plate and a murder to solve.

  1

  March

  I sniffed the air immediately around me, leaning over to whisper in my mom’s ear. “Someone has cinnamon bears. Are you kidding me?” I have an undeniable penchant for sniffing out the most delicious of foods, which, of course, was one of the reasons I was stuck going to a diet club every Saturday morning with Mom. Her and the rest of the women in our family.

  Connie, my mom, turned toward me, her delicately shaped eyebrows arching high toward her salt and pepper hair line. “Are you serious?” Her eyes darted around the room in eager anticipation. She too could sniff out the most finite of flavors – but her tastes ran more toward pastries and desserts whereas mine was detailed around everything and anything.

  I said I was discerning, not discriminating.

  Looking around, I sniffed subtly some more. Who in the heck would be stupid enough to bring candy to a diet meeting? That was like asking to be mauled to death.

  Mom continued searching the room as she stepped closer toward the weigh-in cubicle. One thing we love in our family is drama – we just don’t like when it circles around us. We’re suckers for watching others and their drama unfold, though. Mom leaned back toward me, her gaze flitting around the room. “Did Grandma sniff it out yet?”

  Suddenly, a shriek split across the meeting room. We jumped. I couldn’t help it. I’d had a wooden spoon broken across my rear end following that shriek too many times not to be trained how to react.

  I glanced away from the room that was slowly filling with attendees. Avoiding eye contact with Grandma became tantamount as she thundered into the midst of the chairs set up in rows of eight, three deep. The chairs faced into the center of the room, the perfect audience for whatever Grandma was about to do.

  Mom glanced down at her weight journal, drawing a swirl in the upper corner, trying to look busy. We all had the fear of Grandma running through our veins. The worst part was Grandma was a doll and would do anything for you – she just terrified you, too.

  “Who brought the candy? Show me, now.” For such a small woman, she packed a lot of impact in her tiny size. I teased Mom once that the only reason Grandma was even in the group was to make sure everyone else in the family showed up.

  The Saints forbid we do something not approved, like be fat AND happy.

  Grandma came from the generation where taking diet pills was expected, even if you were a size zero and had no fat to spare. Mom was from the generation where Jane Fonda bopped along and didn’t eat, setting an example of body image that my own generation desperately fought but cowed to every time we passed the mirror – or our mothers.

  “You know I’ll find out. Who has the candy?” Grandma stood with her hands braced on her hips and glared at each of us in turn. I couldn’t help it, I looked up and winced. Her blue eyes – the ones that matched my own – blazed with determination. I had no doubt she’d find the perpetrator. I started wondering, if it was me, the silence was so drawn out.

  A timid voice broke the expectant silence. “Mary? It’s me. But they’re sugar free. I got them at WinCo.” Candy – no, seriously, that’s her name! – stood a few chairs down from me. She brandished a small plastic bag filled with bright red paraphernalia. The little bears seemed to clutch each other desperately at the glare my grandmother shot them. Narrowing her eyes, Grandma moved stealthily toward Candy who shrank from the much smaller woman. “How do you know they’re sugar free?”

  Candy brushed at the straight black hair that fell over her shoulder. Her tan skin paled further as she struggled to answer Grandma’s question. “I got them in the sugar free section and the bin said no sugar added?” The rest of the room had gone silent.

  Grandma folded her arms across her waist and knit her finely drawn eyebrows together. “Put them away. Sugar free or not, they’re dangerous triggers for some in this room who are trying to do better.” She spun on her heel, smiling graciously at those who nodded in agreement and staring icily at those who dared cast a pitying gaze Candy’s way.

  More than half the people in that room had been under Grandma’s razor-sharp tongue. At the same time, though, everyone knew she had the heart of an angel and would give you the size 6 shirt off her back, all the while telling you she was a 14 and complaining about her weight.

  Mom and I shuffled forward in line, grateful there wasn’t anything more than that.

  My cousin, Penny, growled from the weighing booth. “What do you mean I’m up? Let me see that. Can’t you read that number? It doesn’t say… oh.” Her disappointment was palpable.

  I briefly closed my eyes. Lovely. My weekend was off to a wonderful start. Now I got to deal with a cranky Penny and everyone knew that was worse than sitting next to my pervy cousin during the holidays.

  While Grandmother had her hand in most things and there were moments of derision, she, at least, never set out to make anyone feel stupid. Penny, on the other hand, didn’t care how you felt so long as she looked better in her eyes.

  I craned my neck to see around Aunt Holly’s poofy blonde hair. Penny was her daughter and she folded her arms and huffed like Penny might have a point.

  Penny snatched the weight journal from the woman’s hand – I couldn’t see who was in the booth doing the weighing but chances were high it was Jessie, another cousin but by marriage this time. She was married to Penny’s brother. Yeah, they didn’t get along much.

  Her shrill voice followed Penny’s. “You’re a cow no matter how much you lose, Penny. Just watch what you say.” Jessie adjusted her tone and called out. “Next.” When Holly stepped in, Jessie’s murmuring came to a crashing halt and suddenly she was simpering and talking like her tongue was coated in honey.

  I rolled my eyes at Mom as Grandma made her way back to the front of the room. “Love the drama.” More for me to report to my husband when I got home.

  Mom bumped my shoulder, her bright green eyes sparkling with a knowing humor. “You know you do.”

  Half-nodding, I grinned. “Okay, yeah, I do.” Glancing at my watch, I peeked one last time at the door. Nikki wasn’t there yet. She hadn’t shown up the last three meetings. Normally, my cousin and I texted and talked every day on the phone, but she’d grown more distant over the last few weeks. With how close she and I were, it worried me more than anyone else in the family.

  Nikki just didn’t do that. She wasn’t the type to not call or text or miss something she committed to. I’d have to check in on her again after the meeting. She might be at work. She worked so hard and as a single mom with two kids, she didn’t have a lot of spare time to just go wherever she wanted. I had to remember that.

  Grandma sat in the president’s spot which meant that the president, Tanya Manning, was absent. Grandma as vice-president was acting-president in Tanya’s absence.

  Any more power in Grandma’s hands was a sure-fire sign that things had the potential to get ugly, especially with Jessie and Penny at odds and Candy looking guiltily around the room after tucking the candy back in her bag.

  Maybe I should have stayed in bed that morning.

  Mom leaned back, murmuring out of th
e side of her tightly pressed lips. “I don’t see Tanya, Debra, Don, or Angie. Did they show up for weigh-in and then leave?” It wouldn’t be unheard of. Usually we got there to do the weigh-in about twenty-minutes early, but that day I’d dealt with more traffic than normal and Mom had stopped at the library.

  “I don’t see Nikki either. I haven’t seen anyone step out.” Normally, I got there early every chance I had. With six kids at home, a few minutes to myself was like an addicting form of heaven I couldn’t pass up. Even my husband supported me on that. He knew that sending me to spend time with my family at the diet meetings was a good way for him to steer clear of the estrogen lunacy. I didn’t mind it, and he enjoyed the time alone with our kids.

  The clock above the podium ticked closer to nine AM and the start of the meeting. Everyone came at the start of each month. They didn’t want to miss the new information on whatever diet we would try out for the month. I wasn’t sure jumping diet to diet every month was the best way to lose weight, but it definitely kept me from getting bored with my eating selections. I guess that’s all that mattered in the whole scheme of things.

  Mom went ahead of me, glancing back with a wry expression on her face. She wasn’t a fan of the scale but I couldn’t figure out why. She’d had two kids and was thin with a small frame. She defined petite and sometimes I swear she dieted just to back me up.

  After a minute, she stepped out of the booth and it was my turn. Joy.

  With Jessie weighing. My anxiety suddenly spiked and I bit back my urge to scream. I didn’t want to deal with Jessie and her thin, blonde perkiness. Whatever. In and out, that’s all I had to do.

  I stepped into the small cubicle that worked as our weigh-in area. There were three cubicles across that side of the room. There was room for our club to grow in the storefront which was the size of a deli area in a grocery store with thin pil carpet on the floor. At least the chairs were curved and more comfortable than the rest of the inner office looked.

  “Are you taking your shoes off today?” Jessie smiled sweetly at me and I’m not going to lie, I wanted to haul back and punch her in the face. I knew how to throw a right hook and a jab like you wouldn’t believe. Jessie wasn’t raised in our family, so she probably wouldn’t recognize an uppercut if it slammed her in the chin.

  I grinned and slid off my Converse. My husband had bought me the leather versions not long ago and I loved them like I was back in high-school with torn jeans and writings all over the soles. Except, my mind was stuck back there while my body resembled a pudgy version of a woman who thought she was so much younger and trimmer than she really was. Honestly, I spent quality time with Ho-Hos when I should be on the bike and treadmill.

  Any chance she wouldn’t look at me while I weighed? None and I knew it. I held my breath. I don’t know why I did that, maybe part of me still believed that if I had enough air in me, I wouldn’t weigh as much. Whatever the reason was for not breathing, it didn’t work.

  My shoulders slumped and I stepped backward off the analog scale. I was up three pounds. Up. Three. I thought I did so good all week. I wanted to cry, but I blinked back impending tears and smiled brightly at Jessie. I was sick of feeling like that stupid scale ruled my life and yet it did.

  I was obsessed.

  Jessie patted my shoulder and smiled condescendingly, the red of her lipstick making her lips look swollen. “It’s okay. Keep trying.” She pulled out a new blue journal and passed it to me. “Here’s the new one for this month. Don’t forget to turn in the old one. You know Penny likes to check them.” She rolled her eyes but acted like she wasn’t insulting my cousin right to my face.

  Lovely.

  “Thanks.” I stepped out of the booth and smiled weakly at my Aunt Rikki. She grinned brightly and winked. “Don’t worry. It’s just water weight.” Easy for her to say. Aunt Rikki was another family member that didn’t really need to be there. She was a shorter version of my Aunt Holly.

  I didn’t care what weight it was, why did it have to be there when I stepped on the scale in front of Jessie. I nodded and wended my way through the rows to sit by my mom. I huffed as I sat down. “I was up, again.” I clenched the blue passport style version of my new journal. I didn’t want to use it anymore. I wanted to run out of there and next door to the ice cream parlor.

  Which was probably what the problem was.

  Mom sent me a sad smile, reaching over and patting my jean-covered knee. “You’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

  But would I? I didn’t want to deal with my weight the rest of my life. Why couldn’t I have the babies and get back to my size eight jeans the next month? I didn’t voice my question. It wasn’t the first time I’d wondered and when I had asked, Mom had pointed out that a Digiorno pizza a day for each pregnancy wasn’t something you just bounced back from.

  “Time to start. I’m Mary Betsy Fleming and I’m acting president today while our president, Tanya Manning, is out.” Grandma pushed her glasses up her nose and glanced at an angle to see through the bifocals. Lifting the sheet with the announcements on it, Grandma glanced at the room and then back at the paper. “Our winner for the month of February is Debra, but since she’s not here, we’re going to sideline the award and give it to her next week when she is. Just for your information, the board picked out a gift certificate to Timbercreek Buffet for her.”

  I snickered, trying not to look at my mom at the irony of the award. I had a theory that the presidency’s whole goal was to sabotage everyone else in the group with rewards and celebrations. Of course, I had never voiced my theory to anyone except my husband – not even my mom. I wasn’t stupid.

  “This month we’re focusing on tracking. Track everything you eat for the first few days in the new journals then start limiting your eating based on the calories in the front of your book. If you have any questions, you can access the calculator located at the URL listed on the front page.”

  I almost laughed again at Grandma saying URL when she had no idea what that was. I would have made some noise, but I’d opened the front cover of my journal to look at how many calories I was going to get and my mouth fell open.

  1200. Seriously? There were more calories in one of the breakfasts I made.

  I leaned to the side, lifting my hand and covering my mouth with my fingers. “Um, I only get 1200 calories. I might gnaw on one of my kids’ legs by lunch.” There was a reason I was overweight and the reason wasn’t because I could control myself around food.

  I mean, come on.

  Raising my hand, I waited until Grandma acknowledged me. She nodded, her eyes smiling as she held onto the formality of the meeting. “Yes, Bonnie?” She lowered the paperwork to study me more fully through the top part of her lenses.

  “Um, can you make mashed potatoes that aren’t full of calories?” I was dead serious. She knew I was serious. Everyone else in the room laughed like I was joking. Idiots. Half of them had been to Grandma’s for holidays. We had a major one coming up. Why weren’t they asking the same thing?

  I chewed on my lower lip while Grandma gave me a sympathetic glance. “You’ll do fine, Bon.”

  I wish I had her confidence.

  Somehow, I made it through the meeting with Mom glancing at me every few minutes and Jessie catching my eye as if she somehow knew how I felt which only made it worse.

  Afterward, Jessie leaned across the aisle and shook her head. “Losing weight shouldn’t be painful, but it is. You can do it.” She winked, her long lashes moving slow as she also gave me a half-grin.

  Bloody heck… Are you kidding me? She just winked. Winked!

  I might be a mom, but I’m not a pushover. I clenched my fists at my side and opened my mouth to retort, but Grandma beat me to it.

  Stepping in between us without blocking my view, Grandma arched her eyebrow. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard. You need something to eat, Jessie. You’re starting to live up to the blonde stereotype.” Grandma shook her head and continued walking by, headed
toward the table with the refreshments she’d brought. “Losing weight should be painful and it should be hard. It was a heckuva party to gain it, wasn’t it?”

  Only Grandma would state it so plainly. I had eaten a ton to put that weight on. I’d enjoyed it. But was it a party? I didn’t remember having that much fun carrying babies and being 85 pounds overweight. I was a mere five-feet-five-inches tall which was more along the lines of short when my biological dad was six-foot-nine-inches. Leave it to me to do things backwards. Where I was vertically challenged, I made up for in girth.

  “Are you ready or are you going to fight Jessie right here?” Mom leaned over, glancing at my still-clenched fists. She settled back in her seat, watching as the group headed toward the table filled with bagels, cream cheese, and fruit.

  I sighed, forcing my hands to relax at my sides. Eyes twitching, I shook my head. “No, Aaron told me I’m not allowed to pick any more fights. He said moms don’t do that.” I rolled my eyes and grinned. My sweet husband didn’t care about the fighting. He cared more about my happiness. Unfortunately, sometimes, I threw down when I should stand back. Whatever. I was still learning how to rein it in. “I’m not going to fight her. She cries if you look at her wrong.” I hadn’t been in a fight in a long time and I was glad for that.

  There were things to be said for girls with daddy-issues.

  “Okay, come on. Let’s get going. Miguel has lunch planned and I think I can track it in my journal.” Mom stood, shifting into line behind her youngest sister and Grandma. In a few weeks, there would be donuts and pastries on that table. Not only did we try to lose weight, but we also liked to get in our own way of our success.

  I followed her lead. The last thing I wanted to do was keep Mom from eating an authentic Mexican dish her husband created in their fancy newly-remodeled kitchen. Maybe I could finagle an invitation from her. I liked to eat Mexican.