A Potluck of Murder and Recipes

by Jeanne Cooney

  More mumbling, leading me to edge along the back of the truck in an effort to hear better. I even considered sitting on the fender and tilting an ear farther in their direction but decided against it when I noticed all the highway salt that coated the truck.

  I pushed forward another step, though, and that’s when my foot slipped, and a shriek escaped my mouth. I reached for the bumper, hoping to save myself from falling on the icy asphalt, but I grabbed nothing but air and landed on my butt.

  Booger and Delmont rushed around the back of the truck to discover me sprawled out on the ground, my dress barely covering my lap. “Whatcha doin’ back here?” Distrust filled Booger’s beady eyes.

  “I slipped.” I stated the obvious to buy time to come up with a plausible story. “I . . . umm . . . you see, I put my purse in my car so I wouldn’t have to lug it around, and I fell while walking back to the bar.” As stories went, it wasn’t bad. “Guess my heels are just too high to wear outside during the winter.” I lifted my hand, and Delmont dragged me to my feet.

  “Where’s your car?” Rubbing the end of his nose with his fist, Booger considered the long line of vehicles that packed the parking lot and cluttered the alley.

  “Ahh, back over there.” I gestured vaguely before wiping the rear of my dress.

  I wasn’t sure of my original intention. Had I merely intended to watch where these two went? Or, had I actually planned to question them? I suppose it didn’t matter. With them glaring at me, I now only had one goal in mind. To get back inside, among lots of people, as quickly as possible. “Well . . . I better go. My friends are waiting for me. If I don’t return soon, they’ll hunt me down.” Booger didn’t budge. “Yeah, well, thanks again for helping me.” I volleyed a glance between the two. “Now, I really need to leave.”

  Booger scowled at me for what seemed like forever but, most likely, was only five or ten seconds. Even so, it was downright frightening. Then, finally, he shuffled to the side, allowing me to scoot between him and the truck and scurry away.

  AS I APPROACHED OUR TABLE in the bar, I saw that Barbie was back. A plate of what I assumed was “Broccoli, Cheddar, Chicken, Tater-Tot Hot Dish” was in the middle of the table, a small stack of Styrofoam bowls and plastic forks next to it.

  Reaching my chair, I snatched my jacket and slid it over my arms before sitting down. “Ohhh, it’s cold out there.”

  Randy frowned, the wrinkles along his forehead so deep he could have planted corn in them. “Really? And it’s only winter. Who would have thunk?” Apparently, he was serving sarcasm with his hot dish.

  Not having an appetite for the former, I turned to Barbie. “These two won’t even try it,” she said, gesturing toward the plate, “but I know you will because you appreciate good food.”

  I honed in on the hot dish. Occupying myself with good eats just might help me avoid Randy and his wrath, so I lifted a bowl from the stack and filled it up.

  “What did you learn out there?” Tiny asked as I claimed a fork.

  Unwilling to come right out and admit I’d messed up, I shoveled food into my mouth and mumbled, “Not much. How ’bout you? Learn anything in the ’athroom?”

  Tiny adjusted the do-rag on his head. “Not a damn thing. The President used the john and went back to the bar without a word to anyone.” He shuttered. “He didn’t even wash his hands.”

  Randy’s eyes tugged at me like magnets, and when I gave in and peeked at him, I noticed that curiosity had apparently chased away most of his annoyance. “Did you talk to them?” he asked.

  “A little.” For some stupid reason, I then added, “After they found me spying on them.”

  “What?” He practically jumped out of his chair. “See, Tiny? I told you I should have gone after her.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured him with a pat on the hand. “I fast-talked my way out of it.”

  He didn’t seem placated. “What happened exactly?” He looked from me to Tiny and back again. “Tell us everything.”

  So I repeated Booger and Delmont’s exchange verbatim, including what they said after discovering me behind their truck.

  Once I was finished, Randy hunched closer. “Are you sure they believed you were just passing by?”

  “I think so, although Booger did seem kind of wary. I may have imagined that, though. See, I was . . .” I cleared my throat. “Okay, I’ll admit it. I was a little scared.”

  Tiny spoke next. “You didn’t hear them refer to the President by name?”

  “No. I just assumed they were talking about him.”

  “And they didn’t mention anyone in particular when they discussed Owen Bair’s murder?”

  “No, they didn’t even reference Owen specifically.”

  Tiny turned to Randy. “We need more.”

  With a sigh, Randy pushed back his chair. “I’ll find them.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “I’ll keep watch over them.”

  “While I keep tabs on Mr. Big.” Tiny bobbed his head at the President.

  “What about backing each other up?”

  Randy stood. “Change of plans.”

  The back door squeaked open. Booger and Delmont strolled in. And Randy dropped back down on his chair. “Looks like I won’t be going anywhere, after all.”

  The two men snaked their way through the crowd, even passing by our table, where only a glimpse was necessary to determine that Booger was glowering in my direction. When they approached the President at the bar and began talking, another glimpse was all I needed to conclude that I was the subject of their conversation.

  “No doubt about it,” Tiny said, “those guys are definitely worried about you, Emme.”

  Randy clasped my hand and groaned. “Remember how I told you I’d never keep you from doing what you wanted, although, at times, I wouldn’t necessarily like it?” He didn’t wait for me to respond. “Well, this is one of those times.”

  WHEN THE BAND STARTED PLAYING “Crying Time,” Randy invited me to take another spin around the dance floor. Granted, he may have issued the invitation in an effort to alter his surveillance, but I suspected it had more to do with keeping me from taking the song literally and crying my eyes outs. You see, once Tiny’s words sunk in, I started to shake. And since I was wearing my jacket and the place was nearly stifling from all the people milling about, Randy, the detective, deduced that, most likely, my shivers were from debilitating fear rather than plain, old, cold air.

  “It’s going to be okay.” That’s what he whispered to me over and over again as we waltzed across the floor.

  “I wish I never would have stepped outside.” I was lightheaded from the realization that the people quite possibly responsible for Boo-Boo’s death now had me in their sights.

  “Don’t worry. I think Tiny was mainly trying to scare you. Pay you back for that ‘queen’ comment.”

  I glanced up at him. His jaw was set. His lips were pressed into a tight line. And his eyes were hard.

  “Yeah, right,” I uttered. “For a minute, I almost believed you.”

  He kissed my temple. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Emme. I promise.”

  “You may not be able to stop it.”

  WHEN OUR DANCE ENDED, Randy and I literally bumped into Margie and John. It was closing in on eleven o’clock, and the two of them, along with a number of their friends, were practicing bringing in the New Year by blowing horns and shaking those cheap metal rattles.

  “Are you having a good time?” Randy asked, determined to put on a good front.

  “More fun than a gopher in soft dirt.” Margie answered.

  She then pointed at my jacket with one hand while fanning her rosy face with the other. “Aren’t ya hot in that thing?”

  “I’m actually kind of cold. I may be coming down with something.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be good.” She winked. “It would definitely put a damper on your evenin’.”

  John chimed in. “And right now da only thing puttin’
a damper on da night is all dat nonsense ’bout da wind farm and murder and such.”

  “Yeah,” Randy agreed. “But, hopefully, we’ll get it all straightened out real soon.”

  “Well, if I beat ya to it and get my hands on da son-of-a-gun who hoodwinked me and my loved ones, dere won’t be much left of ’im by da time ya show up.”

  “Now, John, don’t do anything rash,” Randy cautioned. “Especially tonight.”

  “I won’t. But I enjoy thinkin’ about it.”

  A woman I didn’t recognize drew near and, after a few words in Margie’s ear, steered her toward a small group of ladies on the opposite side of the room, saying something about needing a picture of the bride with her bowling team. As for Randy and John, they continued to huddle over the investigation, while I allowed myself to eavesdrop on two women nearby. I didn’t want to think about murder for a while, and their conversation sounded as if it might be the perfect escape.

  “Oh, yah,” one of them said in response to a comment about her nephew’s recent wedding in Lancaster, “I couldn’t believe it. Da dance wasn’t even over yet, and da bride took off with one of da groomsmen.”

  “Took off?” the other women repeated. “What do ya mean ‘took off’?”

  “She went home with him. Left her new husband, my nephew Earl, right there on da dance floor, all by himself.”

  “Oh, for land sake,” the second woman exclaimed. “If that don’t beat all.”

  “Oh, yah, it was da darndest thing I ever seen. Earl’s beside himself. He don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, I suppose, he just has to put it behind him and get on with his life. There’s no point in beatin’ a dead horse.”

  “No, but it can’t hurt, either.”

  RANDY AND I WERE ON OUR WAY back to our table when we heard the band leader announce a dance-off. Naturally, I abruptly applied my brakes.

  “Oh, no,” Randy objected. “I realize you’re anxious, and you want to distract yourself, but I won’t be a part of any dance contest.”

  “You won’t be dancing by yourself. I’ll be right there with you.”

  He looked at me as if peering over the top of eye glasses. “No, Emme.” I offered up a pouty bottom lip, but it did no good. “You aren’t going to guilt me into it.”

  My shoulders drooped. “This is turning out to be a shitty night.” I nodded toward the jerks at the bar.

  “You knew better than to go after them.” He pulled me into a hug before leaning his head back far enough to see into my eyes. They must have provided evidence of how troubled I felt because he said, “Okay. Tell you what. I won’t dance, but I will watch these other fools with you, if you want to do that.”

  Not exactly what I had in mind, but better than nothing. “Fine. But let’s get a little closer.”

  He glanced down. Our bodies were pressed together, not a speck of light between them. “To get any closer, we’d have to get naked. And while that’s an appealing idea, and I thank you for the offer, I’m technically on duty, so I’ll have to take a rain check.”

  I slapped his chest. “Very funny.” He was obviously trying to make me laugh, and he’d almost succeeded. “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and towed him to the edge of the dance floor, where a crowd had gathered.

  BEFORE WE HAD A CHANCE to watch the first contestants, Randy leaned over and said, “Sorry, Emme, but I have to go.” With long, no-nonsense strides, he then made his way back to our table, me following in his wake.

  Tiny was already standing when we got there. “The President and his buddies just headed out the back door.”

  “Okay.” Randy kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll phone you when I can. But don’t wait up. It could be an all-nighter.” He followed up with a brief hug. “Don’t worry, Emme. You’ll be perfectly safe. Between Tiny and me, we’ll keep tabs on them until word comes down to make an arrest.”

  At that, both men took off, while I slumped into the chair next to Barbie.

  “Happy New Year to us,” she deadpanned before downing the remainder of her drink.

  “I suppose you didn’t have a chance to talk to Booger and Delmont before they left.”

  She set her empty glass on the table and picked up the swizzle stick. “Tiny said it was too risky. He said he didn’t like the way they were looking at you, so I needed to keep my distance.” She paused. “Since he was deadly serious, I didn’t try to argue with him.”

  I shivered. “Thanks for sharing.”

  “Well, you asked.”

  I scanned the room, not noticing much of anything. “Now what?”

  “I guess we see what tomorrow brings.” She snapped her swizzle stick in half. “As for tonight, I’m going home. While I like you well enough, Emme, I don’t want to be kissing you at midnight.”

  AFTER BARBIE TOOK OFF, I stopped by the café for a “poor me” plate of desserts. Midnight was approaching, and I was all alone. My plan was to have a private pity party, fall into a sugar coma before the stroke of midnight, and, with any luck, wake to news that all the bad guys had been apprehended, and Randy was free for a few days.

  Returning to my room, I picked up Otto and carried him downstairs and outside for a quick potty break. On our way back, I heard arguing around the corner of the building. I stopped in my tracks, not at all sure what to do. I didn’t want to intrude, but, at the same time, I had no desire to trek all the way around to the other entrance. Not in my ridiculous heels. So, I bided my time, hoping the tense-sounding back and forth would soon end.

  To ensure I wouldn’t be discovered while waiting—something that could prove embarrassing—I used one hand to muzzle Otto and the other to balance myself against the wall and prevent another noisy fall. Then, because I’m me, I put both my ears to work deciphering what was being said. And, by whom.

  “You dipshits,” one of the men halfway shouted. “I still can’t believe you let her hear you.”

  “Wait just a gall-darn minute. Like I already explained, we don’t know for sure she heard anything.”

  “Right,” the first guy replied in a mocking tone. “She wasn’t following you. She just happened to be wandering around outside on a winter night, wearing not so much as a jacket.”

  A third man, his voice far more timid than the other two, entered the conversation. “She told us she was—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know what she told you.”

  I inhaled a deep breath of cold air, praying it would somehow freeze my nerves so they’d quit rattling. See, it wasn’t necessary to glimpse around the corner to make any identifications. The guy doing the yelling was the President, and the other two were Booger and Delmont.

  I looked at the darkness that surrounded me. Tiny and Randy were out there somewhere, watching. But whether or not they were close enough to hear what was being said was another matter. It would have been nice to help them out by remaining where I was and listening in and reporting back to them, but I was too scared. These guys were talking about me. And they weren’t debating my finer points. Given that, I simply wanted to scram.

  First, though, I had to come up with a plan for getting from Point A to Point B without being detected. I glanced ahead and behind, the breeze catching my hair, and a tangle of it drifting across my face. As I swept it back, Otto wiggled from my grasp, jumped to the ground, and scampered in the direction of the men, barking as he went.

  “Damn!” I had no choice but to give chase, slipping and sliding and practically smacking into the President as I took the corner.

  I propped up my hands to keep from slamming into his chest. “Oh, I’m s-sorry,” I stuttered.

  “What the hell?” He gripped my upper arms

  I flinched. “I was . . . umm . . . walking my dog before bed, and he got away from me.” I wiggled out of his grasp, reached down, and snatched up Otto.

  “Don’t people usually have their dogs on leashes when they walk ’em?” He glared, and I cowered under his scrutiny.

  “Well . . . I . . . I just took him
out so he could go potty. I guess I wasn’t really w-walking him.”

  While I could hardly believe it was possible, the man’s glare actually intensified. “How long have you been listening to us?”

  “I . . . I w-wasn’t listening. I was chasing my dog.”

  The President stepped closer. Otto growled. And the President reached for him, or so I thought.

  Instinctively, I jumped back. “Don’t touch my dog!” I was shocked by the force of my words.

  The President laughed, the creepy sound of it making my breath hitch. “I wasn’t going to touch your dog.” He teased a twig from my hair. “I was just reaching for this.” He tossed it on the ground. “We wouldn’t want you to get scratched or hurt in any way, now, would we?”

  His threat made my heart thud against my ribcage.

  Skimming the parking lot, I searched for signs of Randy and Tiny. I figured it was a good time for them to make an appearance.

  The President followed my gaze. “You expecting someone?” He chuckled, his tone colored a very dark shade, probably “menacing black.”

  Randy and Tiny were nowhere to be seen. Neither was anyone else. An hour earlier scads of people were outside. But, now, everyone was inside. Evidently, they were waiting for the ball to drop.

  I guess, in a way, I was, too. Waiting for the ball to drop, that is.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  ASTREAM OF PEOPLE HUSTLED from the bar. The band was taking a short break before ringing in the New Year. And the crowd was providing me with the perfect opportunity to flee. The President and his groupies wouldn’t dare hold me against my will in front of all these witnesses.

  I edged away as the three men glared. Another step backwards and I twirled around and rushed inside and up to my room.

  There, I locked the door, set Otto on the bed, and called Randy. I got his voicemail and left an incoherent message, realizing halfway through it that neither the President nor his minions had said anything truly incriminating. But the man had issued a threat of sorts, which was enough for me to beg Randy to call as soon as possible.