Foodie Files Cozy Mysteries Box Set

by Christine Zane Thomas

  She followed me into the kitchen, the first thing I had renovated when I bought the house. What used to be a cramped enclosed space barely suitable for cooking was now open to the living room and dining area. A large island with a butcher block countertop was the centerpiece—and the piece de resistance. The two pans of test brownies cooled there.

  “Maybe I could try one brownie,” Miss Jeanie said.

  I found us two mugs and fired up the Keurig.

  “They aren’t as good as those probably were.” I pointed to the trash can. “The ones on the left are the better of the two.”

  She cut a sliver and ate it over a paper towel.

  “I know I didn't say it before,” I said. “But I'm sorry I've neglected to cook for you until now. I usually give food to my mom and my grandmother. And sometimes, I just throw it out. You’re now officially on the rotation.”

  She smiled. “That sounds good to me. But seriously, not too often with the sweets. These are delicious by the way.”

  “They’re okay.” I turned my nose up at my own creation. Okay didn’t cut it. I passed Miss Jeanie her coffee. She took a sip, tipping the mug toward me in salute. Then she found a seat at the small kitchen table in the dining area. The house wasn’t big enough to have any formal gatherings.

  “I heard you were at Mossy Oaks yesterday,” she started. “And so was your detective friend.”

  “Correct on both accounts.” I’d forgotten that since Jeanie wasn’t family, Javier and his team weren’t giving her updates. That’s why she’s here.

  “Do you know if there have been any breaks in the case?” she asked.

  “Not really,” I said. “I think there’s still a lot left to uncover.”

  “Like what?” Jeanie asked.

  I thought about it a moment. “Do you know anything about Melvin's medications?”

  “I'm no good with medicines,” she said. “All those names are hard to keep up with. I hardly keep track of my own. And they’re always asking for them when you go to a new place. What’s my dentist need to know about my cholesterol medication for?”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m not good with them either. I’d spoken to Luke briefly about the pills I’d seen. He was able to pronounce the name flawlessly. And no matter how many times he repeated it, I just couldn’t get it to roll off my tongue. It was worse than in Spanish class. And he didn’t tell me enough about the medicine itself to help out in the case.

  “Was Melvin regimented? Did he take his pills on time? Keep them organized? Stuff like that?”

  “Something like that,” she admitted. She took a sip of coffee, set it down, and seemed to remember something. “You know what, Allie,” she said. “I don’t think that was always true. I remember him a while back saying someone had bought him one of those pill organizer things. And he used it regularly.”

  “That was nice of them.” I was pretty sure the one he had cost less than a dollar. “Do you remember who it was?”

  “Wish I did,” Jeanie said. “I’ll go ahead and tell you a little secret. Memory, especially short-term memory, is the first to go. I can tell you what color my bicycle was when I was seven. It was canary yellow. But I can’t tell you the name of the book I read last week.”

  “Really?”

  “Really, shug. It was a romance. I can look it up if you’re interested.”

  “Maybe later,” I said, smiling.

  “Do you mind if I get one more slice?” she asked.

  “Go ahead,” I told her.

  She scuttled to the brownie pan and back.

  She chewed on the too chewy brownie. I chewed my lip. “So I guess you don’t know much about the sleeping medicine Melvin was on? Do you?” It was a shot in the dark.

  “Not really,” Jeanie answered. “But a month or so ago, down at the Bingo hall, our friend Earl mentioned accidentally taking two of them.”

  “He did?” I asked. “What happened?”

  “He slept for the better part of the day,” she said. “His wife Rhonna thought about calling 9-1-1.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  Jeanie shrugged. “She said she kept checking his pulse. And he kept on being alive.”

  I couldn’t stifle my laugh. I didn't know what to say. I knew this news wasn't huge, but I couldn't wait to tell Javier this tidbit of information.

  “Was this a private conversation?” I asked.

  “Oh, no! Not at all. Earl and Rhonna told this story over and over. I heard it at least three times. That’s what happens when you’re old, shug. You don’t remember when you tell people a story. And they don’t remember you told them until you’re halfway done telling it. Then it’s just rude not to let them go on. You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” I said.

  “Do you think it’s important?”

  “Could be.” I shrugged. “If you don't mind, I'm going to pass this along to Detective Portillo.”

  “Anything that might be helpful, please do.”

  “Same goes for you,” I said. “Like you don’t have any ideas who would do such a thing, do you? It’d be nice to point Javi—Detective Portillo—in the right direction. I’m not sure who he should talk to.”

  Miss Jeanie’s posture changed. Her back went rigid. “Cleo,” she said flatly. “He should talk to Cleo.”

  “I take it you don't care for her?”

  “That Cleo,” she said with clearly ruffled feathers, “is a vindictive and jealous prude. Or at least she was jealous.”

  “I remember that name. Dot mentioned her. Did she ever do anything to you?”

  “Not really,” Jeanie said. “She always tries to give me back handed compliments—little jabs whenever she gets the chance.”

  “That sounds… not very nice. But it also doesn't really sound like she's a cold-blooded killer.”

  “No,” Jeanie agreed. “But I never liked her. And she acted the same way to Bitsie when she and Mel were an item.”

  “What's the story with Bitsie?” I asked. “When did Melvin date her?”

  “It was a while ago,” Jeanie said. “Melvin had a friend before me, Millie. She lost her battle with cancer early last year. Millie and I were close, and that's how Melvin and I bonded.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. Losing two close friends at her age had to be difficult. No wonder she was lonely.

  And Melvin must’ve been some sort of handsome. I was losing count of all the women in his life—Jeanie, Millie, Bitsie, and Cleo. And that didn’t even cover his marriage, or marriages, whatever the case might be.

  We sat there for a little while longer, our coffee growing cold.

  TO: Foodie Allison

  FROM: Jess Fletcher

  SUBJECT: Sadie’s is BOOKED

  Your incredible article has set us up for a record night! We’ve run out of reservations. And there are even guys calling to make reservations on the 15t as a make-up date. Allie, you rock!

  Thankful,

  Jess

  Asst Manager, Sadie’s Porch

  11

  The next day was more of a success. Two new recipes were concocted, tested, and photographed. My taste buds told me I ‘d finally hit the nail on the head. I delivered a few brownies to Miss Jeanie. While her mouth protested, her hands betrayed her. They took the plate with no trouble whatsoever.

  An empty glass in the sink, milk stained at the bottom, betrayed the fact I’d done more than taste test the brownies. I had to clean up the evidence. I washed and dried it.

  I’d grabbed a towel and dried my hands off when two solid knocks echoed from the door.

  This is getting old, I thought. I wasn't expecting any company. My house had never seen so many visitors in such a short time. And after another day of baking, it wasn’t clean enough to host anyone. Not to mention, me. Oh, Lordy, me. It was one of those days where I’d changed from pajamas just to say I did so. I’d made my way into my baggiest and most comfortable sweats and wore a faded long sl
eeve T-shirt from my college days.

  Much to my surprise, I opened the door to a dozen red roses. They were blocking the face of the man carrying them. But Luke revealed himself momentarily.

  “Surprise,” he said. “I’m back a day early. I hope you don’t mind me popping by?”

  “Not at all,” I lied. While it was good to see him, a warning would’ve been nice. It’s one of those little things that guys may never understand—girls will show their comfy side when they’re ready to do so. And I wasn’t ready just yet. Sweats. No makeup. A few too many brownies sitting in the pit of my stomach. This was an awful surprise.

  Luke’s face crumpled a bit. “Is everything okay?”

  “It is,” I said. “I was just hard at work in my test kitchen. So much so that my place is a wreck.”

  “I don’t mind, Allie. Really, I don’t. I’ll help clean up. He gifted me the flowers and swept past me, headed toward the kitchen. He was already rolling his sleeves up in preparation of cleaning duties.

  There was a lot to like about Luke. I mean besides his strong jawline, beefy muscles that his shirt had trouble containing, and the baby blue eyes that wouldn’t stop looking at me.

  “Do you like the flowers?” he asked with the eagerness of a golden retriever.

  “I love them,” I said. And I meant it. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d received flowers—especially this close to Valentine’s Day. And I could count on one finger the times those flowers weren’t from my mother. Suffice it to say, the upcoming holiday was never a favorite of mine. I was a Thanksgiving and Christmas girl to the core.

  “Let me find a vase for them.” I reached around aimlessly under the sink until my hand thunked into a sturdy glass container.

  I filled the vase with water and made sure to mix the flower food in before placing the roses inside it. As I arranged the flowers, or attempted to, I watched as Luke cleaned off the countertops. Then he found the broom and started sweeping. Like I said, there was a lot to like about Luke.

  Soon enough, the kitchen was spotless.

  I knew better than to ask Luke if he wanted any brownies. He rarely cheated on his diet, which consisted mostly of chicken breast and white rice. Sometimes he mentioned vegetables like spinach and broccoli, but I’d yet to actually see him eat those.

  “Let me get the junk off the couch,” I said. My creative space had my notebook, laptop, and camera on it. I moved them to the desk on the other side of the room, clearing off space for the two of us.

  Luke slid his shoes off with a smile. I wondered if he felt as uncomfortable in my house as I did in his. This was the first time he’d ever come over unannounced—which told its own story. He was definitely getting comfortable with our relationship. I hoped not too comfortable. I still had a lot of questions I needed to find answers to. And some of those questions weren’t for him. They were things I needed to work out myself.

  “How was your day? Your week?” I asked. I brought him a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Thanks.” He opened the water and took a long sip. “It was all right. But I'm glad to be back home. And the weekend’s just around the corner. I’ll be working from home tomorrow. Or should I work from that coffee place, you know, the one you like?”

  “The Java Hutt,” I said. “It works better if you actually like to drink the coffee.”

  “Eye candy. Maybe some girl I know will be there.” He winked.

  “Fair enough,” I said, smiling. I joined him on the couch, snuggling up next to him. It was nice to have someone to snuggle with. And even after being in the car most of the day, he smelled nice.

  “You were right about that restaurant,” he said. “Oh, crap. I forgot.” He stood up, put his shoes on, and raced out the door. My heart skipped a beat. He returned a second later with a brown paper bag. “Pralines,” he said. “I’m told they’re delicious.”

  “You didn’t try one?” I asked.

  He figuratively turned up his nose, sighing as if this was going to lead into one of our food arguments. “You know how I am with sweets. Do you want one?”

  “Later,” I said. The brownies were still settling in my stomach. “Maybe after dinner.”

  “About that,” he said. “I was thinking pizza. The kind with the cracker crust. It’s low carb.”

  Of course it is. “Sounds good,” I lied.

  Luke ordered the pizza and returned to our cuddle on the couch. He put my feet on his lap and went to work rubbing them. Yep. There’s a lot to like about Luke…

  “Remind me. Why were you asking about Somnolance?” he asked. The word pronounced with ease.

  “Jeanie’s friend. We think someone doubled up his dose.”

  “That’d do it. Shoot—I know more about this stuff than I care to.”

  “How long has it been on the market?” I decided to start from the beginning and find out as much as I could about the drug.

  “Not even two years,” he said. “But it went through all the red tape and studies necessary for approval. I'm sure you wanted to know that.”

  I did a little quick math. I didn't have exact dates and stuff, but I was almost certain that Cleo and Melvin hadn't been an item in the past two years. Would she have known he was on this medication? Or maybe he was on something else at the time.

  “Anything else you want to know?” he offered.

  “Do you know what the average dose for patients is?”

  “Do I?” He sounded a tad condescending. “It’s one milligram tablet at night. And people who take it have to ensure that they can safely get seven or more hours of sleep. Otherwise, they can’t operate machinery or the car or what have you.”

  He sounded a bit like a walking commercial. But it was helpful.

  “Is there ever a situation where a doctor would suggest that a patient double-up his dose?” I asked, getting to the meat of the matter.

  “Half it, maybe. Double it, never,” he said flatly.

  Luke pulled me in close and rubbed my head. His lips pressed gently into my forehead.

  “Thanks,” I said. And I puckered my lips for the real thing. He kissed me softly.

  “Who is we by the way?” Luke asked. “You said we think someone doubled up his dose.”

  “Me and Jeanie… And Javi.” I saved the worst for last.

  He held in a breath before nodding. “You know that Javier’s going to solve this case. That is, the police are. I don't like you getting involved with it. It’s dangerous for one.”

  And for two, it puts me close to Javier. Those words went unsaid.

  Luke gave me another peck on the lips, but he wasn’t as into it this time.

  “I know,” I agreed, trying to save face. “I should let them do their jobs—just stay out of it.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” Luke said.

  He grabbed the remote to the television and flicked it on.

  “Now. What would you like to watch on TV this evening, m’lady?” His fake British accent was pitiful but endearing. I couldn't help but giggle. Not every guy was willing to hand over the reins of the remote—even if he was still the one in control of it.

  I decided to throw him a bone. “Why don't you put on one of the Marvel movies we like? Whichever one you're in the mood for.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Luke wasn’t perfect. But he was still a good man to the core. Any girl would be blessed to have a Luke in her life. I knew I felt blessed. But the way he’d reacted when I mentioned Javi by name twisted my stomach in knots. I’d left out a lot of parts when telling him about the past few days.

  Omissions, not lies, I told myself.

  12

  The weekend was a quiet one. On Saturday, I even managed to get in a nice long run. Although I wasn’t sure it made up for the brownies… And the pralines, which were delightful. Luke didn’t know what he was missing.

  We had Sunday dinner at my Aunt Denise’s house. Grandmother announced that it was her last night away from home. She d
idn’t care that they hadn’t found the culprit to Melvin’s murder. After a couple of nights with Mom, and one with Aunt Denise, she was chomping at the bit to get back home to Mossy Oaks.

  I offered to drive her back the next morning, which she gratefully accepted.

  Since I was up early, I squeezed in a two mile run before heading over to Aunt Denise’s to pick her up.

  “What’s the occasion?” I asked her. She was all made up, complete with her favorite Mary Kay lipstick. I opened the trunk and lugged her small carryon bag inside it. How could she possibly need so much stuff for a couple of overnight stays?

  “I thought I told you yesterday,” she said. “Today, you’re in for a treat.” She gave me a once over. “Are you going like that?”

  I’d forgotten that I agreed to accompany her somewhere today. She had labeled it as a surprise. And I’d shown up in running tights and a thermal cold weather shirt. Good thing I hadn’t broken out in a sweat. But my hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, and again I was without makeup.

  “Should we drop by my house?” I asked. “I can change.”

  Grandmother checked her watch. “I think we have time for that.”

  I could tell by her tiptoeing on the floorboard of the car that we didn’t have much time. I rushed inside and made myself presentable. Then we drove to her apartment, and I parked in Bitsie’s spot like Mom had done a few days prior.

  “Do you need to use the little girl’s room before we go?” Two minutes in her apartment and she’d already placed her purse back on her shoulder.

  “I'm good,” I said. “Where are we going again?”

  “I told you it’s a surprise,” Grandmother said. “You said you are free today, right?”

  “I am.”

  We stepped outside, and Grandmother locked her door. She double, then triple checked that it was locked. I couldn't blame her for that. In fact, I’d report that to my mom and Aunt Denise. They’d be happy to hear it. After all, they still weren’t convinced Grandmother should return to Mossy Oaks just yet—not until Melvin’s murderer was found.