After we had a quick breakfast and then dressed, I got started with cooking. Rubber bands contained the floppy sleeves of my Christmas sweater while I worked. I was armed with detailed instructions on how to treat the prime rib and the rest of the meal was made up of dishes I had prepared before. I assured myself that all would be well.
We had two desserts that day, a Kahlua Pecan Pie and Tortini Au Café. The pie can be made a day ahead, but I hadn’t had time and so needed to get it the oven right away. The tortini is only good for a few hours and then begins to separate.
Kahlua Pecan Pie filling:
¼ C butter
¾ C sugar, 1 tsp vanilla, 2 T flour
3 eggs
½ C kahlua
½ C corn syrup
¾ C evaporated milk
1 C pecans (I like whole but pieces will do)
Make pie crust (or cheat and get pre-made deep-dish crust in frozen food section) Preheat oven to 400*. Cream, butter, sugar, vanilla, and flour. Add eggs one at a time. Stir in kahlua, corn syrup and evaporated milk and pecans. Pour into pie shell (there will be extra if you use small shell. Bake at 400* for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 325* and bake 40 minutes more.
You can make the pie very fancy by using leaf cookie-cutters and dabbing pastry leaves around edge of pie with egg yolk which turns a dark, amber brown.
Tortini Au Café:
Part 1:
1 egg white
1 T instant coffee or espresso powder
1/8 tsp salt
2T sugar
Part 2:
1 C whipping cream
½ C sugar
1 T vanilla
1 T almond extract.
Beat egg white, coffee, salt and sugar until stiff in one bowl. In another bowl, whip cream, sugar, vanilla and almond extract until stiff. Fold the egg and cream together—carefully! Spoon into champagne flutes. Garnish with slivered almonds. Will last 6 hours in refrigerator.
Mom and Dad arrived with Aunt Dot around eleven. Usually I don’t like other people in my kitchen but Aunt Dot was feeling misty so I let her help. Being tactful, I didn’t express my opinion that she would very shortly see that life without Althea would be much more pleasant. And anyway, her daughter was only moving three blocks away.
We had presents while the roast was cooking, filling up the house with wonderful smells that had Blue drooling. Alex was amused that my predictions were right about what gifts I received.
Dad liked his smoke detector and Mom and Aunt Dot were glad for new slippers. Alex was a little taken aback by the smoking jacket mom had made him, but he slipped it on and modeled it willingly. He even claimed that he had always wanted to smoke a pipe.
Mom brought her creamed onions and my aunt had one of her Jell-O salads to add to the table. Alex further perjured his soul by complimenting Aunt Dot on her gelatinous monstrosity.
“Oh, I could do it in my sleep,” she said modestly.
Looking at the mix of carrots, candied fruit and mayonnaise I could only assume she had. Nothing else would account for such a strange mix of flavors.
“Is it from the Grange cookbook?” Dad asked, taking another helping. He was picking out the candied fruit. Dad does love his sugar.
“Yes, the section on Jell-O salads was my contribution!”
I smiled and stuffed a large piece of cauliflower in my mouth so I wouldn’t have to say anything.
Aunt Dot was at the far end of the table, but I kept catching a whiff of her perfume as the furnace kicked in and it was bothering me. Finally I realized why.
“Aunt Dot, is that gardenia perfume you are wearing?” I asked.
Alex and Dad both looked at me.
“Yes. It’s a new one for spring. I think it will be popular too. I’ve been giving out samples all month and the advanced orders are really pouring in.”
“Lots of people are wearing it?” I asked weakly.
“Yes, some of my ladies have even come back for more samples.”
“Linda Borders is one of your customers, isn’t she? Maybe I smelled the scent on her?”
“Yes, she got a couple of samples from me. She hasn’t placed an order yet though. Probably after the holidays. It’s a busy time of year for them with the tree farm and all. And with her brother passing.…” My aunt cleared her throat and changed the subject. Death had no place at the Christmas table.
We began talking of the weather and whether we needed to wait for dessert and walk off some of dinner first. Mom and Aunt Dot chattered happily, Dad and Alex were both watching me though. It seemed that I would have to make a clean breast of it and tell Alex exactly what I was thinking. He wouldn’t like it, but on the bright side, this time I wouldn’t be in any danger with my snooping.
Chapter 9
The streets were clear enough that Jeffrey and I could report to work and chide the over-zealous after-Christmas shoppers about illegal parking. Many people stayed away from the post-Christmas madness, but a lot came out into the cold because they were tired of being housebound and the after-Christmas sales were alluring to shopaholics.
Alex wasn’t thrilled but ruefully resigned to the fact that I was doing some off the record investigation. He listened in while I called Dad and asked if he had talked to Herb Dillon’s insurance agent yet, and was not surprised to learn that Herb had contacted his insurance agent about making changes to his policy, but that nothing had happened because Mickey Drambacher had been out of town when the storm hit and, by the time he got back, Herb was dead.
This probably suited Laurie Dillon. The question was whether she knew her husband’s intentions. I couldn’t imagine anyone being dumb enough to tell their already enraged spouse if they were either increasing their life insurance or else naming a new beneficiary, but then men in lust have done stupider things.
Then Dad asked to speak to Alex. I could hear him saying as I passed the phone: “Time to get back on the campaign trail.”
At least Alex would be kept busy while I was at work.
There were a few car shaped humps under the drifts of plowed snow, but most people had gotten their autos indoors before the storm hit. My own vehicle could only hold a charge for half a day even when I stayed mostly on the flat streets, so I was back at the station just after lunch. Blue wasn’t with me because she had elected to remain with Alex and the leftovers.
I was not entirely surprised when the chief waved me into his office and told me to shut the door. The coroner had decided that Herb Dillon’s death was caused by a heart attack but brought on by a severe asthmatic reaction to the perfume that had been spilled on the deceased. Also, though Herb had carried a rescue inhaler in his pocket, it had been empty. There were also traces of perfume on it. The coroner was doing more tests.
I asked the chief if he had heard any distressed gasping from the Grand Marshall and he said no.
“But we were waving out opposite sides of the car and with the band right there playing Jingle Bell Rock I wouldn’t have heard a bomb go off.” The chief looked cross and I imagined he was berating himself for not noticing that anything was wrong until it was too late. “So, Boston, was it murder and not just a stupid accident?”
An accident? I tried to stretch the point. Could someone have not planned an attack but accidentally spilled perfume all over the Grand Marshall and then left without helping him, maybe telling themselves that Herb had an inhaler and if he died anyway it was only nature taking its course? At the very least that was negligence and manslaughter. And I wasn’t buying it.
“I think it was murder,” I said unhappily and then told him about the insurance, my aunt passing out gardenia perfume to every woman in town and what I knew about Herb’s situation with his sister. “I know this isn’t conclusive, but my gut says something is wrong. I’m headed over to the pharmacy now to see what I can find out.” Everyone thinks it is your hairdresser who knows your dirt, but that’s nothing compared to what a pharmacist knows.
“The pharmacist will talk to you? What abou
t patient confidentiality?” The chief was both impressed and disapproving. I think he would have been disapproving even if I was an official detective.
I had wanted to be a detective for most of my life, but recently those feelings had changed. The chief had promised that this time I would pass the department physical, but I hadn’t taken the test again. Maybe it was a kind of lingering PTSD from almost being killed in October, or perhaps it came from watching Alex work quietly but effectively from behind the scenes, but I had a feeling that I was better at doing my unofficial job by stealth. People had few qualms about talking to Chloe Boston, meter maid. I think that chief knew this too and it was why he hadn’t pressed me. I was more useful as a secret weapon.
Also, and this was harder to admit, I was not objective when the people suspected of wrong doing were friends and family. And in a small town nearly everyone was one or the other.
“No rules will be violated,” I said, though not sure if this was strictly true. “I just kind of talk around things and see the general shape of what isn’t said.”
“Hmph. Damn. I didn’t want another murder. But if this is homicide I want it cleaned up fast. Keep me informed.” The chief smiled suddenly. “The Cardinals won.”
I nodded again and left his office. The building was unusually quiet. Most of the guys were on vacation and the public seemed to be in a law abiding mood so few calls were coming in.
The drugstore was busy, but the only riots were in the cards and gift-wrap section. 75% off takes some people that way. I shook my head and brought my unneeded bottle of aspirin to the druggist's counter and smiled at Bess Trader who was busy working a crossword puzzle. She is a very nice woman but not someone you wanted working at a crisis center or as an ER nurse since she tends to dither and discuss before making decisions. Bess was not an indiscriminate gossip, but she did like to talk with me and I am not above using this in the line of duty.
We chitchatted a bit about holiday things and then I said: “Isn’t it a shame about Herb Dillon dying right before Christmas?”
“I know!” Bess lowered her voice though I was the only one at the counter. “Though if he had to die anyway, he should have done it before humiliating Laurie that way.” I recalled that Bess and Laurie were both in the garden club with my mother and Aunt Dot. Bess was also a friend of Linda Borders.
“Men!” I said, since she knew my history with David.
“They are saying a heart attack killed him. I am so glad it wasn’t the asthma. I wondered if he was crazy, taking Viagra when he has lung problems.” I shook my head in wonder. Could Viagra contribute to a heart attack? I would have to check. “His wife came and got him a new inhaler the day of the parade because he was too busy to come himself. Imagine being that thoughtful of the b-a-s-t-a-r-d.”
I shook my head some more. Either the Grand Marshall had sucked down a lot of asthma medicine that morning or the new inhaler hadn’t made it into his pocket.
“Do you know what else poor Laurie did that day?” Bess asked.
“No.” It took no acting skills to sound interested.
“She actually bought the last bottle of Summer Gardenia perfume. It’s the same scent that Herb’s bimbo wears. Imagine going to such lengths to keep a man.”
Chelsea was a bimbo because she was sleeping with a married man, but also because she had quit Girl Scouts while Bess was leading the troop and we all knew that girls who left the scouts came to a bad end eventually.
I nodded solemnly, my sympathy real. Laurie Dillon’s humiliation was something I understood firsthand. That didn’t mean that I was forgetting that Herb Dillon had reeked of perfume when we pulled his body from the parade car. We now had two candidates for killer who wore this scent. Of course, anyone with any ambition could have discovered the name of Chelsea’s perfume and bought a bottle somewhere else. Assuming they couldn’t get a sample of the new gardenia perfume from my aunt as Herb’s sister had done. I wished the drugstore had a tester so I could compare scents.
“Chloe, I was wondering….” Bess paused as she rang up my purchase.
“Yes?”
“I can’t seem to find my snow shovel. I haven’t seen it since last year.” She paused, not asking if I knew where it was but hoping I would volunteer the information.
“Did you loan it to Jeff Talbot?” Jeff was the Boy Scout next door to Bess and Raymond who often volunteered to help out his elderly neighbors with household chores, which was very thoughtful. But along with being considerate, he was also very forgetful about returning things.
“Of course!” she exclaimed. “That must be where it is. I’ll call Jeff when I get home.”
We exchanged happy smiles, glad to have been of service to one another.
“Well, I need to get going. I still need to pick up a few things for dinner.” And I needed to call the chief and tell him what I had learned. He could also pass on the news about the Viagra to the coroner.
My next stop was to see Mary Grady, David’s secretary. As I suspected, David was out of the office on a very long lunch hour and I was able to have an uninterrupted visit with Mary. David treats his employees as badly as he treated me so Mary is only too happy to accidently leave files open where I can see information the police should know.
I explained about Herb Dillon and she got the file, thoughtfully turning the document to the right page, and then left to go make coffee. I read through the legalese Dave had drawn up when Herb made his sister the loan on the tree farm. As I had expected, the loan was forgiven at his death. Herb hadn’t been a nice man but at least he believed in carrying rancor—or avariciousness—to the grave but no further.
Since Linda and her husband had signed it, they had to know about this clause too. And even if Herb hadn’t told his wife, her best friend had probably explained things to her.
Sighing, I closed the file. I didn’t want to know incriminating things about either woman.
I thanked Mary, took a coffee to go, and then went back to the station. The chief wasn’t happy to see me so soon since it could only be bad news, but he nodded thoughtfully as I explained what I had learned.
Feeling I had done my duty for the day and suddenly becoming aware that I was ravenous, I placed a call to Alex and asked if he wanted to meet me at the pizza parlor. He had also been engrossed in work and not eaten, so we agreed to meet and stuff ourselves on calzone. I had leftovers at home but I was tired of my own cooking.
Chapter 10
The snowman in Laurie Dillon’s yard made me sad. Not that Herb would be needing his scarf, hat and mittens, but it disturbed me to see the dead man’s frozen things just standing there. And if the cold effigy bothered me, what must Mrs. Dillon feel?
Perhaps nothing, or she would have taken it down.
Or could she feel that it would be disrespectful? Death made people think strange things.
“Damn.” Should I offer to take down the snowman for her? No—no, I would not get involved. But my mom could. She and Laurie were in the same garden club—and I could explain to Mom about how I was concerned with her friend’s mental state and Mom and Aunt Dot could rush right over and be nosy for me while they were there.
I turned to ask Blue for her opinion but she wasn’t there. Frowning, I turned on my cell.
It’s probably just my perception, filtered through my mother’s conversation, but it seemed like the garden club really liked funerals. Certainly they are always the first to arrive with casseroles for the grieving. And they do make really nice floral tributes for the memorials.
Mom assured me that she and Aunt Dot would be over to visit Laurie that afternoon, and wasn’t I thoughtful to have considered their friend. Mom prefers to put the best possible light on my motives when I am being nosy. I explained about the snowman and how I thought they needed to feel her out about this strange memento mori wearing her husband’s clothes. I would have preferred to do it myself but Mom and Aunt Dot would actually be better at reading their friend than I would be, so I decided to
get their report before storming those ramparts. I’ve questioned wronged widows before and it isn’t pleasant.
Since it wasn’t too much off my route and the road was open, I decided to swing by the tree farm and see if they were having any after Christmas sales on greenery. I wanted some fresh greens for the new year. This wasn’t a spurious excuse. I actually do like to keep my decorations up until after Twelfth Night. Because I am lazy and also because I just like them.
Linda wasn’t there, since she was offering aid and comfort to her sister-in-law, but Tom Borders was huddled in his shack, sitting almost on top of a space heater. Tom is usually a nice man, but he smelled like he had been drinking beer for breakfast. For a guy who had just been freed of a burdensome debt, he didn’t look very happy.
He did give me some holly and spruce boughs though when I asked for them, and said all the right things when I offered condolences on his brother-in-law’s passing.
“Chloe…” Tom hesitated as he arranged the greenery on the seat of my vehicle. I couldn’t tell if he was tentative because he was just uncomfortable with asking me something that forced an indirect acknowledgment of my gift, or if he was uneasy for some other reason. “I heard you were the one who took Herb to the hospital.”
“Yes.” I waited, suddenly wishing that Blue was with me. Tom wasn’t being threatening, but we were alone in a wood and no one knew I was there.
“Was there anything…. I mean, well….” Tom sighed and finished lamely. “Did he suffer?”
I decided to be blunt.
“I don’t know, Tom. He wasn’t thrashing around or screaming or someone would have noticed. But his asthma was bad and a heart attack can be painful.”
Murder on Parade Page 5