Final Roasting Place

by Devon Delaney

  “Dad! Dad!” Sherry screamed. She watched in horror as her father wilted like a fresh spinach leaf in hot water. “Get some water, Ray. Now.”

  Ray jumped up and threw his arms in the air. “Where?”

  “Never mind, help me get him in the car. The emergency room’s close.”

  Ray gathered Erno up, with Sherry’s help, and they guided him through the back door into Sherry’s car. They laid him, conscious but drowsy, across the back seat.

  “I’ll ride with you.” Ray opened the passenger-side door.

  “No. Stay with him for a minute while I get my purse and lock up the store. You’ve pushed him too far, Ray. If anything happens to him, I blame you.” Sherry spat the words at the detective with as much force as she could muster. She was somewhat satisfied when he winced.

  Moments later, Sherry returned with her purse and the detective’s briefcase.

  “My computer?”

  Sherry nodded.

  “My hat?” Ray asked.

  Sherry shook her head. “Detective Bease, your hat’s safe inside. You’ll have to come back when we reopen.” Sherry slammed her car door and started the engine. Giving the man only seconds to move out of the way, she set the car in reverse, spraying pebbles with her spinning tires.

  Chapter 4

  “Dad, we spent six hours in the emergency room last night. You’re not all right. This time you have to listen to me.” Sherry savored each word as if she were eating the last ounce of Kobe beef left on Earth. “The diagnosis should have been extreme stubbornness, not a panic attack.”

  Sherry moved the phone away from her ear and shook her head. She paced from the kitchen to the living room and back. “If you won’t let me stay with you, will you promise to call at least twice a day? And keep the phone charged and your tummy full. No alcohol, no caffeine, plenty of water.”

  “I’m on the sofa watching an old Western. I have a watery cup of herbal tea and half a piece of your chicken in lemon rosemary sauce beside me, which wouldn’t normally be my first choice for breakfast. The chicken didn’t microwave too well, needed thawing first, I guess. Texture’s off, but the taste is pretty good.” Erno’s voice grew faint.

  “Did you say the chicken tastes like wood?” Sherry’s voice rose to a shrill siren.

  “Good. Taste was pretty good.” Erno’s reply was labored.

  Sherry stopped pacing. Her shoulders sloped forward. Her throbbing back screamed for attention. “Dad, what was going on at the cook-off yesterday, and I don’t mean during the cooking portion? Afterward.” She heard a groan on his end of the phone. “I mean, I saw you involved in a conversation with Carmell Gordy, one I would almost categorize as heated. And the same goes for your interaction with Brett Paladin. How do you even know those two? Granted, most of the town knows of you, but they don’t all know you.” She paused long enough to suck in some oxygen. “And even worse, you had me stow away a punch tool before we went through the station’s metal detector because you knew they wouldn’t inspect my cooking equipment bag. And one like it was used to take Carmell Gordy’s life. Maybe even that exact one. To compound matters, the tool didn’t come home in the bag, unless you know where it is.” She heard a whimper on the other end of the phone, but couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Why do you always carry that with you, anyway?” She squinted and wondered if her heart had relocated to her eardrums, the beating was growing so loud.

  “The tool has one hundred and one uses. Better than a Swiss Army knife. Cuts string, opens cans, threads string through a tight spot, clears clogs. I could write a book about its versatility. I never leave home without it.” Erno’s laugh was as bittersweet as grapefruit rind. “Sherry, I didn’t kill that woman. May appear bad, but I wasn’t involved in any way with Carmell Gordy’s death.” Erno began coughing.

  “Dad, I didn’t mean to get you worked up again. We’ll fix this. Detective Bease came on strong, but that’s his job.” Sherry shook her head and thinned her lips. “If I have to, I’ll start digging around. There’s a reason someone hated Carmell enough to want her dead. We have to figure out what, why, who, and where.” The words she dreaded saying escaped her mouth faster than steam from the first puncture of a hot baked potato. “Dad, you do have a plausible alibi, right? I can’t, in all honesty, say I was with you while the murder took place.”

  “As a wise man once said, ‘not all alibis are created equal.’”

  “Who would that wise man be?” Sherry heard a base hum come through the phone. “Dad, don’t worry. Call me later so I know at least one of us is feeling better.”

  “Will do, honey. And thanks again for watching the store for the next few days. Do I have to pay you time and a half for your extra hours?”

  “You know the doctor recommended more than a few days off. Stay put, and we’ll negotiate later.” Sherry ended the call. As she did so, she noticed the voice mail alert was active. With another tap of a key, she played the message.

  “Hey, Sher, I may be your ex-husband, but I’ll never break the habit of following your cooking contests. How did the cook-off go? I forgot to record the show, so when you have time, give me the blow-by-blow or, better yet, invite me over to watch the replay because I know you set your DVR. Have a good one.”

  “He’s right, I did. I don’t think Charlie will believe another cook-off ended with a death. I can’t even believe it myself.” Sherry carried her phone into the living room and flopped on the sofa. Sherry dropped the device on the cushion and patted the pillow next to her as an invitation for Chutney to join her.

  “Yesterday was quite a day of ups and downs. Mostly downs. I won a grand prize for my cooking. Jump for joy.” She stroked her dog’s neck. “I was in the same room where a murder took place. Pure shock. I spent the better part of the evening at the hospital hoping my father would survive. Rock bottom.”

  Chutney settled down on her lap. The body heat the dog radiated relaxed her thighs, which were tight from pacing for hours while Erno was tested for ailments ranging from heart attack to dehydration. “At least yesterday is in the history books.”

  Sherry moaned as she picked up her phone. She dialed her sister, Marla. It was an hour earlier in Oklahoma, so she hoped she wouldn’t wake her, but, on the other hand, part of her hoped she did.

  “Hi, Mar, how’s it going? I’m calling to give you an update on Dad’s condition.” Sherry’s voice diminished as her energy waned.

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic about talking to me.” Marla sighed. “All is well here. But how’s Dad? I was hoping you’d get back to me last night when you brought him home from the ER.”

  “It was so late, and I was exhausted. I didn’t have the energy to craft a text, let alone call. Turns out, Dad had a panic attack, which apparently isn’t unheard of in older people. Anyway, he’s home resting, and I’ll be running the store until he’s ready to return to work.”

  “But he’s okay, right? Are the doctors sure that’s what it was?”

  “That was the diagnosis after a full array of tests.”

  “Thanks for taking such good care of him. Give him a big hug and kiss from me, please. Late last night I heard back from our dear brother over in Scotland. He’ll call Dad later today. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him anytime soon. He’s having a ball over there. With all the commotion, I didn’t even get a chance to ask you how the cook-off went yesterday.”

  “Getting away to Scotland sounds nice.” Sherry laid her head back on a cushion, lowered her eyelids halfway, and nestled in deeper. “I got lucky, and my appetizer won.”

  Marla must have put down the phone because all Sherry could hear was clapping and cheering.

  Sherry waited for quiet. “Thanks. But I also have some bad news about the cook-off. There was a mishap right after, and the anchor at the host TV station is dead.”

  “What? That’s awful.”

  “The poor girl was so young. There’s talk of foul play, but I don’t have all the details.” Sherry
pressed her arching shoulders level until they ached.

  “What’s with you and cook-offs recently? Are people taking competition to a whole new level? Meanwhile, keep me posted as always. Gotta run. Our cows don’t head out of the barn without a good coaxing from yours truly, but thanks for calling. I’ll ring you when I have more time to talk.”

  Sherry stared at her silent phone. How does Marla always seem to turn the conversation back to her busy life out there on the ranch?

  “Guess she’s not volunteering to help me out.” Sherry manipulated Chutney’s folded ear between two fingers. The triangular fold of skin and cartilage reminded Sherry of a crepe, thin and pliable, with so many possibilities.

  Sherry closed her eyes and let the quiet overtake her. When Chutney performed a full-body dog shake, her eyes popped open. She checked her text messages, but the one she was hoping to receive wasn’t there. She set the phone down, and her chest deflated. “Better get you outside, little buddy.”

  The morning air smacked Sherry in the face with a frosty backhand when she opened the front door. Her prior night’s restless sleep left her usually dependable wardrobe-choice ability as weak as salsa without jalapenos. She exited the house in a T-shirt and shorts, and, as soon as the cold air blanketed her exposed skin, she regretted her choices, but Chutney wouldn’t turn back.

  “Good morning, Sherry. Summer’s over. You should have a sweater on.” Across the street, Eileen was wrapped in her signature cable sweater. The neighbor picked up her blue-bagged newspaper and waved it at Sherry.

  “Good morning, Eileen. You’re right. I hate to say good-bye to those warm morning temps. I’m in complete denial that winter’s around the corner.” Sherry’s arm was yanked diagonally as Chutney zeroed in on his chosen patch of comfort.

  Eileen trotted to the edge of her property. “Heard about the death of that lovely Carmell Gordy over at Channel Twelve. Reports say it happened during a blackout. Weren’t you there at that exact time, dear?”

  “Yes, I was, unfortunately. So scary.” Sherry enhanced her words with pauses and syllable emphasis.

  “There goes my theory that local TV is devoid of chaos. I might as well switch over to the national channels, where bad news punches you in the gut all day long.”

  “Don’t give up hope. They’ll find out what happened, and order will be restored.” Sherry said the words, but there wasn’t much beef behind them.

  “Do you need me to let Chutney out today? I’m always happy to do it.”

  “No thanks. I’ll bring him with me to the store. I have to be there all day, so it’s easier if he tags along. Thanks so much for walking him yesterday. You’re a lifesaver. We got home from the hospital so late I was dreading walking him. You’re the best.”

  “When you texted me you’d taken your father to the hospital, I was so worried.”

  “He’ll be okay. Some rest and relaxation for a few days, and he’ll be like new.” Sherry pulled a doggie waste bag from her pocket and proceeded with the pickup.

  “You’re a good neighbor to clean that up every time. I’ve seen plenty of dog owners let their pets do their business and promptly walk away, leaving the pile for others to step in.” Eileen gave one more newspaper salute and walked back to her house.

  “Well, who better to clean up messes than me?”

  Back inside, Sherry poured herself some coffee. Fighting the urge to check back in with Erno, she proceeded to rifle through a stack of papers on her desk. She picked up the top sheet and ran her finger down the numbered list.

  “‘One. Pick up pickle jars from Dumont farm before Thursday.’ I think I can squeeze that in on my way to the store this morning.

  “‘Two. Preparations for recipe-tasting party: shop for ingredients, drinks, and clean house.’ I can put that off one more day.

  “‘Three. Plan a night out with someone special.’ There’s no chance of that, mostly because there’s no one special.

  “‘Four. Make teeth-whitening appointment.’ Now why would I bother with that if there’s no chance for number three? You don’t care if I prowl the streets as a toothless monster as long as I feed you, right, boy?” Sherry leaned down and ruffled her dog’s neck scruff.

  Sherry got up, raided her pen drawer, and returned to her desk.

  5. Check on Dad

  6. Put garden to bed for the winter

  7. Pick up engraved trophy at News Twelve

  8. Schedule Founder’s Day volunteer hours

  9. Collect and dry bean seeds for next year’s crop

  “I better stop there, or I’ll make myself crazy. To-do lists should be called ‘What I could get done if I lived in a vacuum’ lists. Problem is, my ‘to-do’ list doesn’t take into account how much I ‘do’ for so many others besides myself, including you, Mr. Chutney.” Sherry set the list aside and picked up the next sheet in the stack.

  “Ha, this will have to wait.” In Sherry’s hand was a paper with the bold type heading, “Bucket List.” “Couldn’t even get to number one on this list any time in the near future.”

  1. Compile recipes by theme for a cookbook.

  2. Market a homemade product.

  “Forget it. Those’ll have to wait. Much too frustrating to read any more. I have to concentrate on running Dad’s store for a while and not making a shambles out of that.”

  Sherry flipped the paper over and set it back on the pile. She found her phone nestled on a couch pillow. One new voice mail was making itself known on the screen.

  “I hope Dad isn’t having a problem.” Sherry’s hand trembled as she listened to the soft voice deliver the message. Her mouth curled upward when the last word was spoken. “Amber, you’re the best.”

  Chapter 5

  “I hope it wasn’t a difficult drive down from Boston.” Sherry rushed Amber Sherman and broadsided her with a hug, knocking her askew. The slender woman in the white linen pants and mint-green polo shirt returned the embrace after she regained her balance.

  “Not such a bad drive because I came from Hartford not Boston. I was at my parents’ place. When I got your message about your father falling ill, I packed up and jumped in the car.” Amber spun her head toward the back of the store as Chutney came trotting across the wooden floor. Her strawberry-blond hair danced in all directions. “Hi, Chutney.”

  “The last e-mail I got from you, about ten days ago I believe, said you were enjoying a new part-time writing assignment, but I didn’t realize you weren’t in Boston anymore.”

  “It’s not easy keeping track of my whereabouts over the past year. Ten days ago I was in Boston. When you and I met at The OrgaNicks Cook-off, shortly after my divorce, I had just taken a leave of absence from the marriage and family-counseling practice in Boston and relocated to Maine. That move was short-lived. I left Maine and returned to Boston. Not surprisingly, the practice had replaced me. So began a halfhearted job search that proved unsuccessful. My parents suggested I come stay with them in Hartford for a while to get my bearings. I had no good reason to say no. Your call may have saved me from the consequences of a rash decision.”

  “I took a gamble you were somewhat between opportunities when I reached out. It was an excuse to have you come visit, but I do feel guilty that you’re here to be put to work. Thanks for coming down so quickly.”

  “I’m glad we’ve stayed in touch since the cook-off. Considering all that went on there, we share an undeniable bond that will last a lifetime.”

  “You’re telling me! Plus, meeting a nice person like you was one of the best results of the cook-off.”

  “Thanks, Sherry. Let me set something straight right from the get-go. I’m here to help out, and, since your text said your dad was advised to stay out of the Ruggery for a minimum of three weeks, I’ll be looking for a weekly rental after I’m done here today.”

  “No, no. I insist you stay with me. My place is your place. You’re doing me a big favor. Dad will have a hard time staying away from his store but if he knows I have help he’s m
ore likely to listen to the medical advice he was given. Where’s your stuff? If you want to change, bring your suitcase in. Have you had any food? I have some homemade granola bars, an almond butter sandwich, and chocolate bars.”

  “Slow down, friend.” Amber tamped down the air in front of her. “Most of my necessities are in the car. I don’t need to change, unless what you see isn’t appropriate attire. I wouldn’t turn down one granola bar to top off the turkey club my mom packed for me. But, rule is, I’m here to help you while your dad’s out sick, so I’m not a guest, I’m a coworker. The fact that my mom packed a lunch for her thirty-four-year-old daughter who holds a graduate degree only proves that I’m in desperate need of asserting my independence. But until I find a place I wouldn’t turn down your kind offer to put me up.”

  “Amber, you’re as sweet as a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese frosting. It’s settled. Until you find a rental you’ll stay with me. Now let’s get going; time is money. By the way, if you don’t mind my saying, you look like you’ve been working out.”

  Amber looked down at her svelte physique. “Since I had some extra time on my hands, I’ve taken up serious tennis. It’s given me a few muscles.”

  “Just as soon as I find the time, maybe I’ll join you if you can guarantee the same results.” Sherry allowed herself a giggle before she erased the smile from her face. “It’s been a quiet morning, so we hopefully will have time to go through the list of store procedures I made.”

  “Honestly, I wouldn’t have volunteered to come down if I didn’t have store management experience. While I was in graduate school, I was assistant manager at a small clothing boutique in Medford. Opened up, closed up, ran the register. I need a rundown of your merchandise, pricing, order recording procedures. Get me started on those, and I’m off to the races.” Amber pumped her fist and took a hefty bite of the granola bar Sherry had pulled from the concealed shelf under the counter. “Yum.” A crumb hit the floor, and Chutney emerged from under the counter to vacuum the crunchy baked oatmeal up. “Thanks, buddy. It’s good to see you. Sherry, I love your new hairstyle. Longer, with dazzling highlights. Girl, you’re rockin’ your new life.”