A Pizza To Die For

by None

  “What’s on your mind?” I asked as Maddy started inching toward the baseball bat we kept at the register for protection. It wasn’t that we didn’t believe in guns—I had some of Joe’s locked up safely in a gun cabinet at home—but we didn’t want any on the premises.

  I was hoping that my sister’s actions would go unnoticed, but Lacy didn’t miss Maddy’s movement. “Where exactly are you going? If you have a gun behind the register, you’re not going to need it. I’m here to straighten some things out, not start any trouble.”

  Maddy looked at me for input on what she should do, and I nodded slightly to her that it would be okay to wait and see what Lacy had to say. Maddy and I had developed a way of communicating that felt as though we were psychic at times.

  She stopped in her tracks, and I asked, “Why the sudden change of heart, Lacy? Yesterday you weren’t inclined to give me the time of day, let alone talk openly with me about what I wanted to know.”

  “Let’s just say I found out who your special friend is, and found out it would be in my best interest to cooperate,” she said. It was clear that she wasn’t all that happy about speaking with us, but she was there; that’s all that mattered.

  “So talk,” Maddy said.

  “Judson and I were in the process of patching things up when he was murdered. I slipped once, he found out, and I begged him for forgiveness. He agreed to see me again, and before we could work it all out, someone killed him. Believe me, I want to catch the murderer just as much as you do.”

  I wanted to believe her, but she didn’t make it easy. If Lacy was telling the truth, she was doing a truly unconvincing job of it. “Who did you sleep with?”

  She looked at me as though I’d just slapped her. “Is that really something that you need to know? It wasn’t my finest hour.”

  “It wasn’t Jack, was it?” It was a total guess, but I’d said it mainly to gauge her reaction to hearing the man’s name.

  It was a shot in the dark, but it looked to hit home. “How did you find out about Jack?”

  “We hear lots of things,” I said. “Was it him?”

  “We’re just friends,” Lacy said. It wasn’t exactly a denial, but I doubted she’d answer my question honestly, so I let it drop.

  There was something else I wanted to pursue, so I said, “Funny, we never heard that you and Judson were reconciling.”

  “We wanted to keep it under wraps until the Halloween Blowout,” she said. “Judson thought it would be sweet if we went to the festival here as Romeo and Juliet. I already rented our costumes. They’re sitting on my bed, but we’ll never get to wear them now.”

  “They both died, you know,” Maddy said softly.

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said. “Listen, I’ve told you both everything I know. Is that all?”

  “Not quite,” I said. “There’s just one more thing. Where were you really at the time of the murder?”

  “Jack and I were in Charlotte that night, but it’s not what you think.”

  Maddy stared at her and asked, “How do you presume to know what either one of us is thinking?”

  “I just meant that we’re friends, and that’s it. We’ve never been anything more, no matter what your sources told you.”

  “What were you doing together in Charlotte, then?” I asked.

  I could tell she wanted to tell me to go to the devil, but Art’s influence must have been reaching out to her. “I had a doctor’s appointment late that day, and Jack was nice enough to drive me. Judson volunteered, but with the pizzeria about to open, I knew he couldn’t spare the time, so I insisted he stay right where he was. Jack and I decided to go to a club while we were in town, and we didn’t get back until nearly dawn the next day.”

  “So, by the time you got back into town, he was already dead,” Maddy said.

  I didn’t expect Lacy’s tears, but that’s what we got. “Don’t you think I realize that? If Judson had taken me himself like he’d wanted to, he’d still be alive today.”

  “I don’t know how you could possibly assume that,” I said. “If it’s your time to go, I believe that there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “Do you really think that’s true?” she asked, and I could swear I saw a hint of relief in her eyes as she asked it.

  Maddy answered for me. “She does. I don’t.”

  That brought her back to reality. “Are we finished here?” Lacy asked me as our first customer of the day came in.

  “I don’t have anything else for you right now,” I said, clearly hedging my bets.

  “Then do me a favor,” Lacy said. “Call your ‘friend’ and tell him I’m cooperating, will you?” There was almost a pleading quality to her voice now.

  “Has someone threatened you?” I asked. I hated the thought of that being done on my behalf, even to Lacy.

  “No, there were no threats, just some advice that I should cooperate with you. I have, haven’t I?”

  “So far, you’ve done just fine.”

  “Then you’ll call?” she asked.

  “Right now,” I replied, and she was gone.

  In another instant, Lacy was finally out of sight, so I said, “Hang on a second. I’ll be right back.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me,” Maddy said.

  “We have a customer, remember?”

  “She can wait,” Maddy answered.

  “Stay.”

  My sister did as I asked, much to my surprise.

  I went out in time to see Lacy getting into a car parked on the promenade’s parking strip. There was a scruffy-looking young man waiting for her, and as they drove away, I knew that it was the same man I’d seen waiting outside Carole’s the day before.

  Chapter 10

  “Was she alone?” my sister asked me as I walked back into the Slice.

  I smiled. “Not a chance. It appears that her friend Jack doesn’t trust her out of his sight. I’ve got a feeling that you were right, by the way.”

  “I just love hearing you say that. Just so I’ll know, about what, in particular?”

  “It’s the same man I saw in front of Carole’s keeping an eye on Lacy. Chastain’s not that big. He’s got to be the same man Gina’s been involved with.”

  “It just makes sense.” Maddy shook her head. “I can’t believe you let her off the hook like that. You really had her squirming for a second there. That girl was afraid, there’s no doubt about it.”

  “I was under the impression that you don’t approve of my friendship with Art Young. Doesn’t it strike you as odd that you’re willing to use his influence anyway if it helps us with our investigation?”

  Maddy laughed softly. “What can I say, I’m a mess of contradictions. I’m just saying, she would have told you anything just then.”

  “We can discuss that later. Right now, we have a customer,” I said as I pointed to the older woman sitting alone squinting at the menu.

  “She’s still deciding, but I get it,” Maddy said as she took the hint and approached the woman while I went into the kitchen.

  I’d purposely done it so I could be alone. The second I was back in my familiar turf, I grabbed the phone and dialed Art Young’s private number. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Eleanor, what a pleasure.”

  I let it rip. “Did you say something to Lacy White about me?”

  Art paused, and then said, “I’m fine, thank you for asking. And you?”

  I took a deep breath before I trusted myself to speak again. I knew Art indulged me in my temper, but I had no reason to believe that he would keep letting my abruptness with him pass indefinitely. “Sorry, I’m a little flustered at the moment. I hope you are well. I just had a conversation with Lacy, and she was a completely different woman. She asked me to call you and tell you that she is cooperating.”

  I couldn’t believe it, but he actually sounded shocked as he said, “She called me by name?”

  I thought back to our conversation. “No, not e
xactly. She kept referring to you as my friend, so I just figured that it had to be you.”

  “And we are friends, correct?”

  “That’s true,” I said. “I just don’t want anyone threatening anyone else on my behalf. Do you understand?”

  His voice was so soft I almost missed the next thing he said. “Eleanor, we both need to be careful about what we say next.”

  I was jumping to conclusions and blowing things out of proportion like an idiot, and it had to stop right now before I damaged a friendship I really did enjoy having.

  In a much more contrite voice, I said, “You’re absolutely right, Art. I sincerely apologize.”

  His tone much smoother now, Art said, “It’s gladly accepted. Think nothing else of it.” After a moment’s pause, he added in a softer voice, “However, you might not be entirely wrong. There’s a chance that my instructions may have been misinterpreted. I asked an associate to pass a message along to Ms. White that it would be nice if she were helpful to you. I meant no inferences to be taken by it, and I implied no ramifications if she refused her assistance.”

  “I understand how communications can get muddled sometimes,” I said, not realizing that I was beginning to model my speech after his. “I just wanted to clear this up before it had a chance of escalating.”

  “It’s good that you called, then,” he said. “Now, if there’s nothing else that’s immediate, I must go.”

  “Of course. Thank you again for your help. I truly do appreciate it. Are we good?”

  “We’re excellent. Goodbye, Eleanor.”

  After I hung up, I started to wonder if I’d done the right thing calling Art on how he’d treated Lacy. She wasn’t a favorite of mine, but she didn’t merit threats, either. Then again, I was certain that if I came anywhere close to having that same kind of conversation with Art Young again, the outcome would not be to my satisfaction.

  Perhaps I should have told him about the telephone calls Maddy and I had received early this morning, but I knew in an instant that I’d made the right decision to keep it to myself. Putting my friend with shady contacts in charge of what amounted to a police investigation was so funny that I couldn’t keep myself from laughing out loud.

  Maddy chose that moment to come into the kitchen with her order. “What’s so funny? Tell me and we’ll both laugh about it,” she said as she looked around the otherwise empty kitchen.

  “I just had a thought,” I said.

  “Well, if you get another one, call me. I’d hate to miss it, since they come along so infrequently.”

  Maddy accepted my whimsy like no one else in the world did. I pointed to the pad in her hand and asked, “Is that order for me to make, or would you like to take a swing at it yourself?”

  She shoved the pad toward me so fast it might have been radioactive. “No thank you. What did he have to say?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Maddy grinned at me. “Come on, Sis, I know you called Art Young the second you walked in here. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said, fighting to keep a straight face.

  “And you’re nothing but a big fat liar,” she said with a grin.

  I made it a point not to play poker with my sister, with good reason. “Okay, you got me. He didn’t mean any threats were to be conveyed to anyone, but he may have been misunderstood by an associate.”

  “Don’t you just hate when that happens?” she said.

  “Okay, I don’t want to hear any guff from you. Let me make this order, and you can go back up front.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I can tell you in complete honesty that I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  As I made the woman’s small pizza, I wondered about Jack, and what angles he was playing in all of this. Could he be a pawn of one of the women, or was it possible he was manipulating them both? I would love to talk to him, but not without having reinforcements behind me, and I didn’t mean my sister. I’d take Art Young with me if I could, but I wasn’t in any position to ask him for favors at the moment. Our illustrious chief of police would be good to have watching my back, but I couldn’t ask him, either. That left Bob Lemon and possibly David Quinton, but it wouldn’t be fair to put either of those two in that position.

  For now, questioning Jack would just have to wait.

  “We need one medium Chicago-style deep dish pizza,” Maddy said an hour later when she walked into the kitchen.

  “Do we? I could use a fairy godmother myself, and trust me, if I ever find one, I’m not asking her to make that pizza. Don’t you remember the last time I tried to make one in my conveyor oven?”

  “It wasn’t pretty,” Maddy agreed, “but I’ve got a guy out there who’s homesick for the Windy City, and he wants you to try hard enough to give you this, whether you succeed or not.” She held a crisp new fifty-dollar bill up in the air. “You’ve just got to try again, Eleanor.”

  “Fine, I’ll do what I can.”

  “Excellent. I’ll go give him the good news,” Maddy said as she left the kitchen.

  I got out my recipe book, an old binder I’d had since high school, and flipped to a recipe I’d tried before. Making an authentic Chicago-style pizza was out of the question with my conveyor oven; at least, if there was a way to produce one, I hadn’t found it yet. Instead, I had something that was as close to it as I’d been able to come up with so far. I added yeast to warm water, and as that was proofing, I mixed flour, sugar, and salt in a bowl. After adding the yeast to the mix, I used my hands to blend it together, adding the necessary oil along the way. When it still wasn’t developing into the shape I wanted, I added a little more water in order to form it into a rough ball.

  That was where I’d made my first mistake in the past. I’d done some research, and it appeared that I’d been kneading the dough too long. One site on the Internet I’d found claimed that two minutes was all the dough needed in order to form the biscuit-like crust, so I resisted the urge to go past that and stopped when the timer went off. I would have liked three or four hours to let it rise, but I didn’t have that much time, so an hour was going to have to do.

  While that was set aside and I started planning out my toppings, Maddy came back. “Any idea how long this is going to take?”

  “Tell him it’s going to be awhile. I’m making the dough from scratch. If he wants to come back in ninety minutes, it should be ready by then.”

  Maddy smiled. “That’s perfect. He’s got a meeting, but he’ll be back in two hours, if you need that much time.”

  I looked at my watch. “Tell him that would be perfect.”

  “Will do. In the meantime, I’ve got more orders for you.”

  “No more deep dish pizzas, though,” I said.

  “Don’t worry, we both know there’s not a lot of demand for that in our part of the South. I’ve got two regular crusts, and one thin crust.”

  “Those I can do in my sleep,” I said.

  I tried my best to ignore the deep dish dough, but I still glanced at it from time to time. I’d added a little more yeast than I should have, to speed up the process, but obviously I hadn’t added enough. Ninety minutes later, the dough had just barely risen above where it had been before. I lightly floured the counter where I hand-kneaded dough, and plopped the whole thing down. I used my new European-style rolling pin until I had a crust that would be oversized for a ten-inch deep dish pan. Forming it on the bottom and up the sides, I trimmed the edges at the top and started applying the filling. I sprinkled mozzarella onto the dough, added some sausage and mushrooms, and then ladled on some sauce. I repeated that one more time, and then finally distributed a healthy layer of grated parmesan cheese over the top. I held my breath as I slid it onto the conveyor. I’d tried to keep it light, but it was still twice the weight of a regular pizza.

  As it came out of the other side of the conveyor, I looked at it with some alarm. It was clearly nowhere near ready.

  I had two options. I could give my customer a
refund and count this as a learning experience, or I could try running it through the oven again. Having nothing to lose, I decided to do just that.

  When it came out the second time, the top was a little too done for my taste, but at least the exposed edges of the crust were golden brown. It was by no means the prettiest pizza I’d ever made, but he wasn’t paying me for appearance. At least I hoped that wasn’t part of the deal.

  Wearing hot pads on each hand, I lifted the pizza from the conveyor and decided to deliver it myself. Maddy’s eyebrows shot up when I walked out, but she pointed me to the table where a man in a business suit was waiting eagerly for what I had to offer.

  As I stood by his table, I said, “I’m making no promises on this. If it’s not to your liking, I’d be happy to give you a full refund, but if I do, know that I’ll never try to make one of these again.”

  I put it down in front of him, and he just stared at it.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked. I must have been right. The entire pizza had probably been overcooked.

  “A knife would be nice,” he said with a pleasant smile, “and I wouldn’t say no to a fork, either.”

  “Sorry,” I said with a nervous laugh. After I retrieved tableware for him, he made a grand show of cutting into the pizza and serving himself a slice. I moved away from his table, but stayed close enough in case he didn’t like it. He took a single bite, and then put his fork down.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as I approached him, ready to return his fifty-dollar bill. “I know it’s not what you were expecting.”

  “Are you kidding? I never dreamed you’d come this close,” he said with a broad smile. “Nice job.”

  I couldn’t believe the wave of relief I experienced. “I’m so glad you like it.”

  Janice Blake touched my arm as I headed back to the kitchen. “What exactly was that you just served that man?”

  “It was a special order,” I said. I wasn’t about to encourage anyone else to order a deep dish. It was too unnerving to have them on my menu. “I hope you didn’t want one. They take a great deal of time to prepare.”