by Ann Myers
Not that clever or I wouldn’t be in this mess. To keep her talking, I said, “What about Napoleon? How did you kill him when everyone thought you were dancing with Jake?”
Brigitte’s face was so close to mine, I could feel the heat of her cheek and breath. “People are foolish about numbers,” she said, voice dripping disdain. “Idiots. Everyone believed that broken watch on his wrist. Did you never think that the time could easily be changed before smashing it? Napoleon called me, like I always told you. What I didn’t say was how cruel he was, insulting me.”
“Terrible,” I said shakily.
“It was unforgivable,” she agreed. “I realized then, why do I have to endure such a man, holding me back? Less than twenty minutes, that is all I needed, and then I returned to dance with Jake . . .” She sighed. “He is so kind. We are meant for each other. I saw that immediately. Then I learn that you are in the way.” She loosened her grip slightly to wave her fingers at the man of her psychotic dreams. Jake, still a few steps away, reached out his hand again.
“No!” Brigitte snapped. “You must wait, Jake. By the statue.”
Jake wasn’t following her instructions. In fact, his pace was increasing, bringing him closer to us with each step. I tore my eyes from his seemingly calm face and scanned the Plaza. In an inky shadow along the Palace of the Governors, I thought I saw a movement. Addie? Cass? Somewhere behind me, I heard a soft gobble.
Brigitte and I reached a truck parked near the northeast corner of the Plaza. The vehicle was red with vintage curves and the silver grill of my nightmarish flashbacks, as well as something else. I’d seen this truck even before on Napoleon’s office wall of hubris, in the photo of him and comedian Jay Leno. I mentally kicked myself. Brigitte had access to Napoleon’s keys. We’d driven to Don’s in one of Napoleon’s cars. Now she fumbled with the keys, holding the knife on me with one hand while inserting the key with the other.
“Stop that!” she demanded as I tried to pull away. She emphasized her point by pressing the knife harder into my side.
Jake stepped forward and in one swift movement reached out to Brigitte. “One dance before you go, Brigitte. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Brigitte tensed and yanked back from him. “Liar,” she said, and I felt her trembling, not with fear like me, but a boiling rage. She seemed to hesitate before pushing me away, hard. My hand scraped pavement, and when I scrambled to my feet my first thought was to sprint for Flori’s car and safety. But I couldn’t. Brigitte wasn’t dancing with Jake. She thrust the knife at him, slashing. “You are no better than the rest. Trying to trick me? Trap me! For her? You’ll both pay!” She swung the knife wildly.
Jake tore off his jacket and swung it at the knife, tangling the blade, but only momentarily. Brigitte yanked it back and lunged again.
“Run, Rita!” he yelled.
I ran. Charging at Brigitte’s back, I tried desperately to pin her flailing arms. Her strength, fueled by fury, almost overwhelmed me, but I wasn’t alone. Jake grabbed her stabbing arm. I clutched a leg, and Flori coming around the bandstand landed a fast-motion tai-chi kick to her shin. Brigitte cursed in French, English, and guttural gibberish as Addie and Cass joined in and managed to wrestle her to the ground. In the distance, I heard the beautiful sound of sirens.
“About time,” Flori said. “Cass and I called 911 as soon as we saw you wave.”
“I caught that too,” Addie said. “You were waving like a beauty queen, Rita, or the Queen Mum herself. Cupped palm, stiff, unnatural for you. I sneaked over to Miss Flori, and she said we should wait to pounce until Jake gave us the sign.” Beneath her, Brigitte squirmed and cursed. Flori, threatening more tai chi, pulled out her pink, fluffy handcuffs.
I turned to Jake, who stood a few steps back, wrapping his right arm in his torn coat.
“Are you okay?” I asked. My voice was as shaky as my legs and hands.
“Fine,” he said. “A little scratch.”
The way he clutched his wounded arm suggested more than a scratch. “What were you doing here?” I asked.
His laugh lines, the ones that made my knees wobbly for much nicer reasons, fanned upward. “You ask me that a lot, don’t you?”
I grinned back. “Well, you keep showing up to rescue me.”
He looked over at my team guarding Brigitte. “Those are your real rescuers. I was almost too late, as usual. I confess, I was worried about you so I did a little tailing of my own. Guess I wasn’t very good because Flori spotted me and sent Cass over to let me know you might be in trouble. When I saw you and Brigitte, I knew Flori was right.”
Flori joined us and said with a chuckle, “You did pretty good with your tailing, Mr. Strong, although I made you back on Galisteo Street. I’m still giving you free meals for the rest of the month for your bravery. Just say ‘hot pursuit’ and we’ll know.”
Jake made a scoffing sound and lifted his wounded arm. “Some bravery. I’m the only one who couldn’t fend her off.”
“Yes, you did,” I said, and leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was sweet and all too brief, interrupted by Manny’s police car, skidding to a stop beside us.
That Friday, Flori, Addie, Cass, and I were again on the Plaza, this time in a line a dozen people deep. The female mariachis harmonized in the background, and red and yellow balloons floated on the park benches and trees. Crystal, apologetic, was throwing Linda a welcome back party, and every tamale-lover in town was invited. The other food cart operators had all joined in.
“I hope she’ll still have some of those mole tamales by the time we get to the front,” Cass said. “I never did get any of those.”
“Mole tamales. That was a clue. I should have figured it out earlier,” I said, moving another inch forward in line. “Brigitte practically gave herself away, and I let it slip right past.”
“I should have questioned her alibi too,” Flori said. She shook her head. “How easily she tricked us with that watch. And we call ourselves masters of the art of spying.”
Cass grinned. “I thought it was the Art of War and tai chi, and I’d say you two solved the case. If it hadn’t been for your persistence, we wouldn’t be standing in this endless line.” My crowdphobic friend added a groan I knew she didn’t mean. We were all overjoyed to have Linda exonerated and back at her cart.
After a moment, Cass turned to us again. “Wait . . . why were mole tamales a clue?”
Flori bowed her head, graciously indicating that I could explain.
“It was right here on the Plaza,” I said, setting the stage. “I was with Celia and Linda, and Brigitte was pretending to be my friend.”
Cass snorted. “A friend until she stabs you in the back!” Seeing me flinch, she said, “Oops, sorry, that was a bit too real, wasn’t it?”
It certainly was. “She was pretending to be Linda’s friend too,” I said. “All while using her as the scapegoat. But here’s what we—I—missed. Brigitte told Linda that even Napoleon loved her tamales. Her mole tamales, which Linda only began serving the day of the cockroach incident. Napoleon planted that cockroach, so he knew that Linda’s tamales were safe to eat. I’m guessing he went to Linda’s cart late that night and tried one. Linda had left the warmer on, so the tamales would still have been good. That tamale was Napoleon’s last meal.”
“But why did Brigitte kill him right then?” Cass asked. “I mean, that benefit we were at was dull, but it didn’t make me want to rush out and stab someone.”
“Napoleon loved those tamales. Being a mean bully, he turned that on Brigitte. He called and told her how great they were—how much better than anything she could cook. It must have been one of many insults. She slipped away from the benefit. When they met, I bet he insulted her some more and that was that. The creepiest thing is that she had the presence of mind to cover up her crime by changing his watch, turning it to a later time when she knew she’d be back at the benefit and have an alibi.”
“Definitely creepy,” Cass said. “To think she was
dancing and making small talk immediately after stabbing her boss. But what about Don’s murder and the paint from Linda’s truck on his wall?”
“The paint was luck,” Flori said. “Lucky for Brigitte because it threw more suspicion on Linda. Like Linda said, she scraped Don’s wall a while back while helping Don.”
Despite the festive mood, and Linda’s vindication, a cloud hung over me. “Brigitte befriended me to get close to the investigation,” I said. “She knew someone had spotted her the night of the murder and was blackmailing her. She initially thought it was Jenkins the food inspector. That’s why she poisoned him. Word is, she slipped the poison into his coffee thermos when he wasn’t looking, just like Jenkins Senior thought, only he suspected Don. She probably would have tried again, but then I convinced her that Don was involved. When we broke into his house and she found that voice distorter—like the one on the blackmail calls she’d been getting—she knew for sure. I feel bad about that.”
“Don knew the hornet’s nest he was poking,” Flori said. “I do feel a little sorry for him too, though. I think he would have told the police about Brigitte, eventually, if he had to save Linda from jail.”
We had finally made it to the front of the line. “Mole tamales, please,” Cass said.
Our order came with hugs from a grateful Linda.
Cass took her tamales back to her studio. Flori headed toward Tres Amigas to clean up the lunch dishes we’d left to come see Linda. I started to go with her until she ordered me home. “Don’t you have a date to get ready for? Be sure to bat your eyelashes.”
I was several yards away when I heard, “And pinch that handsome lawyer on the tush, Rita!”
“I made magic chocoflan,” I called back to her and laughed as her “Woohoo!” echoed across the Plaza.
That evening, the doorbell rang minutes after Celia left for a film night with Sky and some other friends. My hair was still damp and butterflies swarmed my stomach, but at least I was mostly bandage-free to greet Jake. He, however, had one arm in a sling. In the other he balanced a box of chocolates and a bottle of wine.
“A happy Friday,” he announced.
I took charge of uncorking the wine and urged him to take a seat. He hung his hat on the chair before sitting and leaning back. “It was a good day around the courthouse. Gerald Jenkins Senior is about to face charges for extortion, so no more worrying about that dirty food inspector. Even better, Brigitte won’t be getting out on bail. Turns out she had a more than petite record back in France. It was expunged because she was a teenager at the time, but the prosecutor pulled some strings and dug up records for stalking and stabbing a classmate. Seems she was named in a few restraining orders too.”
I shuddered hard enough to dislodge the cork. “How did no one know any of this?”
The defense attorney at my kitchen table smiled. “Brigitte moved a lot. Some past employers gave her great references, probably to be rid of her. We both dodged a bullet.” He looked down at his arm. “Well, mostly.”
I poured us extra-large glasses of zinfandel.
“To good news,” I said, raising my glass.
Jake seconded my toast, adding, “Our friend Georgio has good news too. I got his latest case dismissed for lack of evidence. I think the judge felt sorry for me, waving my bum arm around.”
“I feel sorry for you,” I said. I did. His so-called flesh wound had required twenty stitches and a trip to the emergency room. I’d had to force him to go. He’d wanted to storm the jail and free Linda immediately.
“I don’t feel sorry for myself,” Jake said. He smiled up at me. “I’m a lucky man. I didn’t realize how lucky until I thought I might lose you, Rita.”
The butterflies migrated to my head. I covered by peering through the oven door. Inside, a cheese and chile soufflé rose to spectacular heights. Almost too high. I stirred the vibrant green cilantro vinaigrette and drizzled some over the asparagus and generally delayed. Jake rose and came over to peek in at the soufflé. When he straightened, he moved closer to me. I felt the bristles on his chin as he leaned in close to my cheek. “Beautiful,” he said quietly, his steel-blue eyes focused on me. I took a leap and kissed him.
Rita’s Cinco de Mayo Green Chile and Cheese Soufflé
Serves 4 to 6
INGREDIENTS
3 T Parmesan, freshly and finely grated
3 T unsalted butter
3 T flour
1 c whole milk
1½ c extra-sharp cheddar (4 oz.)
½ t salt
¼ t freshly ground black pepper
¼ t ground cumin
¼ t New Mexican dried red chile powder or cayenne pepper
4 large egg yolks, room temperature
5 large egg whites, room temperature
½ c roasted green chiles, mild or medium heat, chopped, preferably New Mexican. Freshly roasted or frozen are best, but canned (well-drained) are also delicious. If using whole roasted chiles, remove any charred skin, seeds, and the stalk.
⅛ t cream of tartar
DIRECTIONS
Adjust your oven racks so that you have a lower-to-middle rack available with about a foot of space above it. Preheat oven to 400˚F.
Prepare the baking dish. Thoroughly butter the inside of an 8-cup soufflé dish (use a straight-sided dish, about 3½ inches high x 7 inches wide). Add the grated Parmesan to the dish and turn to coat the sides and bottom. The cheese will help the soufflé rise. Set aside.
Make the cheese sauce. In a small sauce pan, heat the milk over medium heat until scalding. Just before boiling, remove the pan from the heat. In a medium sauce pan, melt the butter. Whisk in flour. Continue whisking for about 2 minutes. Gradually pour the hot milk into the flour mixture, whisking until smooth. Stir in the salt, pepper, cumin, and red pepper/cayenne and continue to cook on low for 2 to 3 minutes. The sauce should be quite thick. Remove from the heat.
Place egg yolks in small bowl and mix lightly. Rapidly whisk a few tablespoons of the hot milk sauce into the yolks to temper them. Then, add the yolks, approximately one-fourth at a time, to the sauce, whisking well with each addition. Next, add the grated cheese and chiles and whisk well.
Prepare the egg whites. Add egg whites, cream of tartar, and pinch of salt to a spotlessly clean and dry mixing bowl. Using a stand or handheld mixer, beat until stiff, glossy peaks form. Note: be careful not to overbeat the whites. Overbeaten whites will lose their glossiness. Test the egg whites occasionally by stopping and raising your beaters. The whites will form thick, pretty ripples and peaks. The peaks should remain standing, with slightly drooping, glossy tops. Perfect!
Combine the egg whites and sauce. First, lighten the cheese sauce by folding in about one-quarter of the egg whites. Then add the lightened cheese mixture to the rest of the egg whites, carefully folding them together until mostly blended. It’s okay if a few white spots remain, but try to blend in any sauce that might have sunk to the bottom of the bowl. Gently scrape the fluffy mixture into the prepared soufflé dish. Smooth out the top, ensuring that there are no gaps between the soufflé mixture and the bowl. Using a clean knife or your finger, create a thin line around the border of the bowl. This will help the top of the soufflé rise evenly and not catch on the sides of the bowl.
Bake. Set the soufflé dish in the center of the oven and immediately turn the heat down to 375˚ F. Bake for 35 minutes or until puffy, with a rich golden brown top. The center should still move slightly but not be runny. A skewer, inserted in the center, should come out mostly clean.
Important: Call your guests to the kitchen for the grand moment the soufflé emerges, as it will begin to deflate within minutes.
TIPS:
Don’t mess with the soufflé when it’s in the oven. No turning is required, and try to resist opening the oven door and peeking inside, especially during the first 20 minutes.
Room-temperature eggs really are helpful in this recipe. They’ll whip up quicker and with more lift.
Have fun with di
fferent sizes of soufflés. In individual ramekins, check for doneness after 20 minutes.
Calculate your timing. Since soufflé is best straight out of the oven, estimate how long you’ll need to prepare and bake your soufflé. After getting all your ingredients and the pan prepped, estimate about 15 minutes to make the cheese sauce, 5 to 10 more minutes to whip the whites, and another 10 minutes to fold together the sauce and whites and smooth the mixture into the bowl. So, together with baking time, give yourself about 1½ hours before your meal.
Roasted Asparagus with a French-Mex Vinaigrette
4 to 5 servings
INGREDIENTS
1 bundle of asparagus
¼ c New Mexican pine nuts
1 flour tortilla, cut into thin strips, plus cumin, red chile powder, and salt on hand to season
VINAIGRETTE INGREDIENTS
1 c cilantro leaves (packed)
3 T fresh lime juice
2 T sherry, white, or red wine vinegar
1 T shallot, minced
1 t sugar
1 t Dijon mustard
¼ t salt
½ c olive oil
pepper to taste
DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 400˚ F
Prepare the toppings. Cut tortilla into thin strips. Heat a few tablespoons of oil in a frying pan. Add tortilla strips and stir-fry for a few minutes until almost crispy. Season with a pinch each of cumin, salt, and red pepper. Stir-fry a minute or so more. Move to a plate or bowl. Heat a bit more oil in the pan and gently brown the pine nuts, taking care not to burn. Warning: pine nuts brown very quickly. Keep a close eye on them.
Prepare the vinaigrette. Place all ingredients except olive oil in a food processor and whirl a few times. Drizzle in olive oil, blending until emulsified.
Prepare asparagus. Wash the asparagus and break off the tough bottoms. Dry with a paper towel. Place asparagus on a cookie sheet. Drizzle a few tablespoons of oil over asparagus. Sprinkle on a little kosher salt. Toss to coat and arrange asparagus as a single layer. Roast for about 15 minutes, depending on the thickness of your asparagus. Asparagus should be lightly browned on the bottom and tender. Arrange on a platter and cover with tin foil. Immediately before serving, spoon some dressing over the asparagus. Then top with the toasted pine nuts and tortilla strips. This dish is tasty at room temperature, so you can make it before you put in your soufflé. Or heat the asparagus in the microwave or quickly in the broiler if you would like to serve the dish warm. After rewarming, proceed with the dressing and toppings.