A Saucerful of Death

by Loretta Johns

  I looked up as the man came to stand before me. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black case from an inner pocket. Flipping it open, he showed me a card with his name and picture on it and shiny badge. The card had a bunch of other stuff written on it, but he closed it too fast for my still slow reading skills to decode.

  “Hi, I’m Special Agent John McIntyre with OSI. I’m the lead agent in the investigation into the death of Major Thomas China. Major Darren Nelson informed me you were out here waiting for him. I understand you were his companion the evening major China was found dead.”

  “Yes, but he was alive when we left to go home!”

  Agent McIntyre looked at me kindly. “I know he was. We have numerous witness statements attesting to the fact. I just need to hear your version of that evening’s events to finish completing the picture.”

  I blinked. He had to create a drawing of the scene? It must be a visual aid to help investigators remember the facts. I would be remiss if I didn’t help. “Then I shall tell you everything.”

  He smiled. “Great.”

  I plowed on ahead. I knew to create a quality piece of art took time and the longer the process took, the longer Darren would have this hanging over him. “Well, first I spent the afternoon watching TV,” I began. By the time I reached the part where Amanda Bombay had walked into the house, his eyes took on a glazed appearance. It was quite gratifying to see, him so far deep in the creative process already that he was mapping the scenes out in his mind. Perhaps he would sketch out these scenes as well, double and triple down on the evidence to exonerate my beloved.

  He snapped out of it a bit once I mentioned the diner, blinking at me like an ohwlm bird back home when I shared what I had learned about Nebula Sauce, Whale Burgers that were not made with whale at all, and that sparkles on the floor tiles there don’t lift off to stick to your shoes. His gaze sharpened to a laser focus when I detailed how I got into the passenger seat of Darren’s car and became aware of a terrible smell wafting from the man who staggered up to the car.

  “And he called Darren mean names. Said he was, a, you know,” I lowered my voice, ”the place the poop comes out.”

  Agent McIntyre gave a snort, then asked, ”He called him a butt?”

  “No, the rude word for it that’s also a donkey and he meant the opening specifically.”

  His lips twitched and his eyes danced. “I think I get your meaning.”

  “Yes, well, he called him that a few times, then said it was Darren's fault his wife left him in the parking lot, and he was really mad about it, too. She must have had all of their money because then, he ran at Darren and tried to steal the box of pie he was handing me!”

  “The box of pie?” The special agent looked dumbfounded. “You thought he was going to steal your box of pie?”

  “Yes. It was a very good pie, too. When we got home Darren opened the box and set up my Mr. Coffee for me and gave me the instructions which thankfully included pictures because I read really slow. He hung the blinds up to keep us from getting spied on by the curtain twitcher Agnes while followed the instructions and did as Mrs.Olson said.”

  “Mrs. Olson?”

  “Yes, the neighbor whose car broke down and the wife of the man next door who fixed the car for her made terrible coffee. Mrs.Olson had to show her how you have to use a quality coffee to make a delicious brew. So, I measured the Folger’s we got carefully and set the Mr. Coffee to use its specially patented, state of the art -”

  “I get it. You made some coffee and drank it with the pie.”

  It looked like I’m not the only one who gets impatient. It must not be too bad a trait, though, as he became a special agent and not just a regular one. I nodded in answer to his question.

  “And then what?”

  I decided to hurry things along. He didn't need to know the major had made a bed for himself on the couch. “Then we took showers, changed into our pajamas, brushed our teeth, and went to bed. We fell asleep and slept until the police came knocking on the door. They were very loud and they said Agnes and Amanda had the right to stand on the sidewalk like that and stare.”

  “Into the living room window?” He frowned at that.

  “No, the blinds stopped that from happening again. From watching them come take Darren away.”

  “Oh. I see.” He blinked rapidly for a moment. “Okay. I, ah, think I’ve got everything I need to know, Miss?”

  “Jeannie.”

  “Jeannie What?”

  I looked at him, not understanding what he meant.

  “Your last name?” he prodded.

  Oh! Yes, Stephen and Darren both had a second name as did everyone else. I couldn’t use Darren’s from what I understood because we weren’t married, so mine would be different. I didn’t like What for my second name though. I needed something better. I wracked my brain for something better...mountain grown, always perfectly brewed, good to the last drop...

  “Miss?” He looked concerned.

  “Maxwell,” I said.

  “Jeannie Maxwell,” he repeated.

  “Yes, just like the coffee,” I replied.

  “Of course it is,” he murmured.

  The door behind opened and Darren stepped out, closely followed by Stephen. Darren glanced at the special agent and then at me.

  “There you are, Jeannie,” he said. “You ready to head back to the house for Taco Tuesday?”

  “Boy, I love Taco Tuesdays,” Stephen said, rubbing one hand on his stomach. I laughed at his antics. Stephen was always so funny!

  “Miss Maxwell here was just filling me on her view of the evening in question. I’ll leave you three to enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” He turned on his heel and walked off, shaking his head.

  Darren raised an eyebrow at me. “Maxwell, huh?’ he whispered into my ear, taking my arm as we turned to go in the opposite direction. “Like the coffee, huh?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “I couldn’t use Coffee, Folgers or Olson because I’d already explained about the coffee maker and Mrs. Olson’s explanation as to why we would like coffee made with Folger’s.”

  “Well, it’s a normal sounding last name and easy to remember,” Stephen pointed out.

  “That it is,” Darren agreed.

  I smiled at their praise. I was becoming more like an actual human every day!

  * * *

  Chapter 23

  Darren

  I’d seen the stunned expression on the OSI agent’s face as he walked away. I wondered just what Jeannie had said to him to get that reaction. I held off asking all the way home, letting her chatter about her favorite drink of all time, coffee. I was a good thing, too, as otherwise, I’d have forgotten to run into the Shopettte to get more filters- the ones made by Mr. Coffee lest she entreated me with what Joe DiMaggio had to say on the subject- as well as yogurt. I picked up eggs and some Duncan Hines brownie mix, too. I knew she’d love them and chocolate went together with the spiciness of Mexican food like nobody’s business.

  I was wondering how to broach the subject when Stephen rushed forward with the topic, in his usual bull in a china shop approach. He opened my fridge and took out the tomatoes and chilis and placed them on the counter, then said, “So, Jeanne, what did you tell the investigator? He looked pretty stunned.”

  “Oh, that,” she laughed.

  I took out a couple of chopping boards, one for me to cut the chilis and one for Stephen to dice up the tomatoes. Taco Tuesday with tacos and beers by my pool were a bi-weekly tradition with us and we had a system down for it.

  Stephen cocked his head, eyeing her quizzically. “Come on, spill.” He took his chopping board from me and took the knife he wanted from the holder by the stove.

  Jeannie gave her a head a disbelieving shake. “I honestly don’t know what kind of questions they asked the other witnesses, but he was shocked to find out that Major China was so mad at Darren that he tried to steal our pie!”

  Stephen and I both gaped at her.
<
br />   “Steal our pie?” I asked, certain that I’d misheard her.

  “Did she say he tried to steal pie? The pie you got from the diner? Oh, was it the chocolate silk?” Stephen asked me.

  “No, it was Boston Cream pie and it was very good,” Jeannie informed him. “And you both are so funny! But it’s not nice to imitate people like that in order to poke fun. Though it was a childish reaction, being mad at someone else just because your wife left you in a parking lot! He should have just gone in and bought some pie for himself.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Though he did smell pretty bad and was rather drunk. Maybe they wouldn’t let him in.”

  I laughed. She really did think he’d rushed at me in order to steal our pie. It was too much. “Probably not,” I chuckled.

  “Yeah, Martin runs a tight ship,” Stephen said, beginning to chop up the tomatoes. “Oh, Jeannie, can you reach into that cupboard and get me down one of those plastic bowls?”

  Jeannie went to the indicated cabinet and pulled out the requested bowl.

  “Go ahead and pull out the whole stack, Jeannie,” I told her. “We’ll need them for the lettuce and grated cheese.”

  “I need to get some of the lidded bowls when I cook at home, I always have leftovers because there’s only one of me,” Stephen said. ‘But you have to go to one of those parties and I dunno, man...”

  “I got all mine as a housewarming gift from my parents,” I informed him.

  “Parties? What parties?”

  “I’ll explain later,” I told her lightly.”Right now, I need to show you how to cook and season taco meat,” I said, placing cutting the last of the chilis and reaching for an onion.”

  “Oh, he’s doing the onion. Come on, Jeannie, let’s go change into our swimsuits. That will make us cry.’

  “Cry? Why, does it have mood-altering properties? Should we be eating it?” she asked.

  “The juice is quite pungent and stings the eyes. It gets into the air,” I told her. She stared as I donned plastic goggles. I know I looked silly, but onion juice was no joke. Once I had my goggles on, I turned on the extractor fan, opened the skylight, and opened the sliding glass door that led to the patio.

  Her mouth made an ‘o’ shape of astonishment as she took in the extent of my preparation, then turned and fled to follow Stephen. He had a spare pair of trunks and a towel here and Jeannie, well, she could morph whatever swimsuit she wanted.

  As they walked away I heard him tell her, “There’s an outdoor shower out there, and we need to rinse off before going into the pool.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  I eyed my adversary. This red onion was toast. By the time they came back, I had it peeled, diced, and the doors and skylight closed. I left the extractor fan over the stove on as we were about to brown the onions in the frying pan waiting for Jeannie to add oil to.

  “I know how to do this!” she said excitedly when I asked her to get the oil and add it to the pan. I grinned. ‘What is this?’ she asked reading the label on the bottle. My heart sank. Her susceptibility to commercials was going to kill me. I’d bought generic oil. “This isn’t Mazola oil!

  “Uh oh,” Stephen said. He had an amused look on his face. “You’re in trouble now, Darren.”

  “Darren, we want to make delicious, healthy food. Mazola gets its goodness naturally from maize!”

  “And there it is,” I said. “Okay, I’ll make a deal with you.”

  ‘You’ll go buy the right oil?’ she asked, her expression somehow both hopeful and triumphant at the same time.

  “We’ll use this tonight and tomorrow, I’ll make sure the kitchen has Mazola.”

  “Oh, but, isn't he-”Stephen began to splutter.

  “Not now, Stephen. Right now, we’re teaching Jeannie how to make tacos.”

  ‘Ah, okay. Later, gotcha.”

  “Okay,, “ Jeannie agreed, adding oil to the pan. “But these won’t have as much natural goodness to them.”

  “They’ll still have maize goodness,” I assured her, showing her the taco shells. A look of delight crossed her face.

  “And after tomorrow, our Taco Tuesdays will have double the goodness!”

  There was no keeping her down, that was for certain.

  Chapter 24

  Jeannie

  Despite the oil not being as naturally good and wholesome since it wasn’t made from Mazola maize, the onions and chilis cooked easily in it and the finished meat filling was quite tasty. Spicy, but delicious. I got excited just thinking how much better this delightful dish would be once we had quality oil to prepare the filling with. As it was, it even smelled so good that it lured out another of Darren’s neighbors.

  “Well, hello, there,” came a deep, velvety voice from behind me.

  “Oh, hello, Arthur,” Darren said, looking up. He didn’t. Look too happy to see this Arthur. I couldn’t blame him, Arthur obviously wanted some of our tacos and as it was, if I didn’t make a grab for them, Stephen was going to get the last two shells. He’d already had five tacos to my four, while Darren had only eaten three, so by my reckoning, Darren and I should each get one of the last two remaining shells. Between the packages of shells, Darren had opened there had been a few more but they’d been broken and Darren said he was going to make himself a taco salad to take to work with the leftovers.

  “I don’t believe I’ve met this lovely lady,” Arthur purred.

  How did he know I was lovely? All he could see from here was the back of my head. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I turned to face the man. Had he been spying in through the window along with Agnes and Amanda?

  “Arthur, this is my girlfriend, Jeannie. Jeannie, this is my neighbor, Arthur. Now Arthur, what can we do for you?” Darren asked pointedly.

  “I’m afraid Bill didn’t come home last night and I was wondering if you’d seen him.” Arthur gave me a sad look. “That’s my cat, my dear. The only family I’ve got.”

  Oh no! That poor man. I’d completely misjudged him.

  “What does he look like? I’ll keep an eye out for him,” I assured him.

  “He’s an orange tabby, with wide stripes, not narrow ones. He has a bald patch on one leg where the vet shaved him and he’s missing the tip of one ear and has a kink in his tail.”

  “The vet shaved him?” Stephen asked.

  “Just a small patch on one leg. It was so they could do his surgery. I had him neutered last week ass he simply wouldn’t stop spraying, ” Arthur explained.

  “But why did the vet take off part of his ear?” I asked.

  Arthur chuckled. “No, no, he’s been missing that for a long time. He got into a fight with another tom and lost that.”

  My eyes widened. That was very mean of that other cat. I hoped poor Bill hadn’t run into him again.

  “I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Darren said.

  “I heard if you put a missing cat’s litter box outside, they could smell their way home,” Stephen offered.

  “Yes, well, I must be going. Oh, did you know the local news people are setting up outside your house?” Arthur asked.

  Darren jumped up from his seat. “What! I’d hoped this would blow over before anything like this happened, or at least take a couple of days before they found where I live.”

  “Oh, my dear boy, but of course you didn’t kill that man. Anyone who actually knows you as I do would know that.”

  “There’s no front end damage and we were at home, having specially blended mountain grown coffee and pie,” I informed him.

  “Well, see, there you go. Perfect alibi.” Arthur beamed at me. “You really are delightful, my dear. I’d love to take you out to lunch and get to know you better.”

  That sounded wonderful. He knows Darren very well so I could learn even more about Darren and his likes and dislikes.

  “I’m afraid she can’t anytime soon, she’s going to have to make herself scarce. We can’t have the reporters hounding her.”

  “That’s too bad. Well, when this
all blows over, I’ll throw a dinner party.” He waggled his fingers good-bye and wandered away.

  “But where will I go?” I asked Stephen. “And if they are here, they will be hounding you too!”

  Stephen and Darren exchanged glances that told me all I needed to know. “You two already talked about this!”

  “It was just a worst-case scenario option,” Darren defended himself.

  “You don’t want to come to stay with me for a few days?” Stephen looked hurt.

  I blinked at him. “Oh, is that all? I thought he was sending me far away! But, what about Darren?”

  “Well, they can’t see or get around back here and the beach behind us has restricted access. So, first we’ll finish our tacos, then I’ll go call the Space Coast Inn on base and get a room. They won’t be able to bother me there.”

  I hated this. He was going to be there and I was going to be at Stephen’s and I wasn’t going to get to see him until all of this stopped. A tear slipped down my face.

  “Oh, hey now,” Stephen said, catching the tear with his finger. “None of that. We’re going to do our best to support old Daren here, right? And my condo is pretty cool. There’s a pool on the roof and a hot tub. Oh, and a barbecue area in the mezzanine area one floor down from me.”

  That did sound nice. But still…

  “I’ll show you how to grill bratwurst tomorrow and tell you embarrassing stories about Darren,” Stephen added.

  Sold. It wasn’t ideal, but with the inside information he was going to give me when Darren and I reunited, I’d know him so much better and we’d be even closer.

  “If it’s any consolation,” Darren said, “I’ll miss you, too. You’ve grown on me and I can guarantee the coffee won’t be anywhere as good.”

  “We need to take my Mr. Coffee,” I told Stephen. “And the Folger’s.” Oh, but maybe it should be the Maxwell House instead. Darren was sad and having his favorite blend would make him happier. “And the Maxwell House.”