At ten thirty, the front door chimed and Iggy tottered in. Her uncurled hair and mismatched outfit told me in an instant that the news from her doctor’s visit wasn’t good. No point asking. I handed her a huckleberry truffle and refused her quarters.
“You girls are the picture of what’s good about this town,” she said, her voice surprisingly strong.
I hugged her thin shoulders gently and kissed her paper-thin cheek. “We love you, Iggy.”
The door opened again and Tara held it, Emma by her side, as Iggy waved good-bye and tottered out. I still had no clue how old she actually was, but the thought that we might not see her again seemed all too real.
“We came in to say thank you.” Tara had traded her usual black suit for tan ankle skimmer chinos and a brown top with short ruffled sleeves and giant orange dots. She hadn’t bothered to cover up the pale circles under her blue eyes. But despite the visible tiredness, she looked calm. Emma, in lavender today, wandered over to the washtub filled with pseudo soap bubbles and began sniffing the testers.
Tara spoke quietly so her daughter wouldn’t hear. “Pete acts so laid back, but I always knew he was a powder keg. I never expected him to snap like that, though. Thank God you caught him before—before something else happened.”
Some days only mixed metaphors will do. “You’re welcome. Is it true that he lost his job at the TV station for threatening to beat up his boss?” I’d heard the story for the first time last night, from Kyle, while we waited at the Lodge.
“He always said it was trumped up, an excuse to fire him. I should have known. He had an excuse for everything, especially for why he couldn’t hold a job despite all his talent. Always some ‘they’ who had it in for him. Like he has an excuse for killing Drew.” She gazed into the distance momentarily. “Drew Baker was the love of my life. But at least I have Emma.”
We both glanced at the little girl, happily playing soap games.
“If you need help packing Drew’s place,” I said, “my sister and I will be happy—”
“I’ve been thinking about that. That pantry. All those cookbooks and that kitchen gear Deb and I will never use—I think you should have them.”
“What? Me? Why not a real chef?”
“You combine Drew’s love of food and his love of Jewel Bay better than anybody else. He helped make it the Food Lovers’ Village, but you’re keeping it that way.”
I choked back my emotion. Maybe I’d give a book or two to Mimi and Amber, as a remembrance. But Drew’s Julia Child collection could fill the Merc’s front window now, and retire happily to my bookshelves later.
“I’ve hired a moving company. They’ll pack it up and deliver. I’m also here to say good-bye. Emma and I are moving back East, to my sister’s town. Our parents are half an hour away. I hate to leave the Lodge on short notice, but I want to get her settled before school starts.”
Finally, Tara appeared to be putting her daughter first.
They each chose a truffle. Skinny Tara, always watching her weight, seemed to enjoy hers even more than the six-year-old did.
No one is ever too old for huckleberry chocolates.
Locals and tourists kept us busy all day. Summer might be winding down but the clock hadn’t run out yet, thank goodness.
Midafternoon, Landon burst in. “Auntie, you have to come. We have a surprise for you.”
“Who has a surprise for me?”
“Mommy and Daddy and me. Come on.” Fresca had arrived to help for the afternoon, and she and Tracy waved me on. Landon took my hand and tugged me out to the sidewalk, where his parents waited.
“What’s this about?” I said.
“Just something Landon thought you would enjoy,” Chiara said. It was hard to slow him down as we walked down Front Street. In the parking area next to the community center and playground was the ice cream truck.
I laughed out loud. “Perfect. Avalanche Crunch in a cone, please. Two scoops.”
“You got it,” the ice creamer said. “And it’s on the house, since your first cone met such a sorry end.”
When I got back to the Merc, Ike Hoover and Kim Caldwell were waiting for me.
“We wanted to fill you in,” Ike said. “Crime lab found fibers from Stacia’s clothes on the fender of the black Porsche. Reconstructionist is prepared to testify that the marks on the road, the fender damage, and the location of the body all point to Gib.”
“And like you thought,” Kim said. “He left his damaged rental car in town and drove back to the Lodge in Melinda Mayes’s car. That story he told us about hitching in with the girls was pure cr—fiction. Sally confirmed seeing him pick up the Porsche on Friday morning. We never would have figured him for the hit-and-run or broken his alibi without you.”
I covered my eyes with my hands. To kill a woman to protect his scheme for revenge on another man, for an imaginary wrong. I didn’t know the details of Gib Knox’s father’s banking crimes, but it seemed the son had learned the father’s lessons too well.
“What next?”
“First thing Monday morning, the prosecutor will charge Gib Knox with one count of negligent homicide, a felony, and misdemeanor counts of leaving the scene and failure to report an accident. And tampering with evidence. Not only did he get rid of the car, he tried to erase several files on Stacia Duval’s phone and computer that we were able to reconstruct, and he meant to destroy the papers he took.”
“If he’s convicted,” Fresca said, “and I’m sure he will be, after what my daughter discovered, how much time will he get?”
“That’s up to the judge, but for negligent homicide, up to twenty years in prison. Six months each on the misdemeanors.”
“And Pete Lloyd?” I asked.
“Deliberate homicide, which carries a potential life sentence, and intimidating a witness, for coming after you. And anything else we can tack on. You’ll be happy to know the prosecutor does not intend to charge you for unlawful entry.”
I felt my mother start to swell at the suggestion, but I caught a twinkle in Ike’s eye and put a hand on her arm.
He turned somber again. “Fresca, you know how much I wish every case could be wrapped up like this.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Kim go ghostly.
Fresca covered my hand with hers and nodded. “You’ve done your best, Ike, and Jewel Bay is a better place because of it.”
* * *
Dinner plans beckoned, but before retreating to the kitchen, I snuck back down to the Lodge.
There are few more stunning sights than a hundred trail-trained horses following each other out of the corral and through the meadow, where big events are often held under a giant white tent, then up the well-worn path at the foot of the wooded hillside. Pintos and paints, chestnuts, bays, sorrels, and a handful of Appaloosas, one after the other after the next and the next.
No matter what event fills the meadow, no matter how high muckety-muck or jaded the guest, the nightly parade to the upper pasture catches everyone’s attention.
Kim and I used to watch at every chance, leaning over the corral rail. I leaned over it now, picking Ribbons out of the herd and blowing the mare silent kisses of thanks. Sent a few to Kintla the Appaloosa, too, for his bravery in the line of duty.
I felt her presence before I saw her. Kim Caldwell, sheriff’s deputy and detective, back from exile. Leaning on the rail beside me, captivated, the silver bracelet visible on her wrist. As if we did this every day. As if it had not been fourteen years. As if nothing had ever happened between us.
And maybe nothing had. Maybe it was all just another cryptid.
* * *
“Welcome to The Courtyard,” I told my guests. “Our starter tonight is baked stuffed Brie served with sliced baguettes from Le Panier. Followed by Caesar Salad with Toasted Pecans, courtesy of Bill. And thanks to him, I can actually chew n
ow. Our main course is grilled tenderloin with a huckleberry-morel glaze, served over a grilled portobello mushroom.”
“I think I’m going to cry,” Mimi said. Tony wrapped an arm around her.
“Now don’t you wish you hadn’t sent back that grill I ordered?” Fresca said.
“Not one bit. When I need a grill, I sneak next door and borrow Ned’s.” I gestured to the hot grill behind me.
“Any time, girlie,” Ned said. “It’s yours, sort of.”
“Plus we have a very special dessert.”
“If it’s made in Montana, it must be good,” Landon piped up.
“And wine from Monte Verde Vineyard. A toast.” I raised my glass. The courtyard sparkled. It had truly become a welcoming place, its tables filled with the people I loved best: Fresca and Bill. Liz and Bob Pinsky. Tracy, Heidi, Tony and Mimi, Ned. My sister and her family.
No Rick. No Adam. And that was okay. I ride solo just fine.
“To Stacia Duval and Drew Baker, with thanks for their work and their friendship. They brought us much joy.”
“Hear, hear,” Bob said.
“May we never forget,” I finished. “Let’s eat!”
“Play ball!” Tony added.
I took the meat off the grill to rest, then sat next to Fresca. My mother looked like her name tonight, in a watermelon pink linen dress with matching nails and lipstick, and coppery sandals that made my feet jealous.
Ike and Kim had answered nearly all my questions that afternoon. Except one. There had been no mistaking the tension between Kim and Kyle yesterday, when I rode into the corral.
“It’s private,” she’d said when I asked, biting her lower lip. But when she’d needed a horse in a hurry, he hadn’t hesitated.
Another cryptid.
“We haven’t started searching for a new chef,” Tony said between bites of salad, “but we’re already getting inquiries from around the country. Top-notch folks. I’m hopeful.”
“The kitchen store is getting tons of phone and web orders,” Heidi said. “That reminds me, Jason. I’ve got updates for the website.”
“Oh, me, too,” I said. Jason designed and maintained sites for many of the village merchants. “Luci’s soaps and the Blackfeet Natural products are flying out the door, thanks to Tracy. They’re almost as popular as her truffles.”
She smiled, and her red-and-silver-bugle-beaded earrings danced.
The happy chatter continued. Liz had been right about the courtyard: It did hold good energy. And maybe Fresca had been right, too: primo party space.
I smiled as I plated the tenderloin and sauced each slice. Chiara served. Talk slowed as we tucked in.
Mimi took a bite, then reached over and squeezed my hand. “Almost as good as Drew’s.”
“I’ve been thinking,” Fresca said after the filet disappeared and Jason and Bill rose to clear the plates.
“Oh, no,” Chiara said in a stage whisper. “We’re in trouble now.”
Fresca ignored her. “About Amber Stone. She let herself be manipulated for her own potential gain, but we know now that Gib Knox was a master manipulator. And the B&B’s been struggling. But ultimately, she did the right thing. Erin, how can we help her build up that business?”
I dithered briefly. “I can talk with her and her sister. Help them rework their business plan. They need you, Jason—their website barely functions.”
“Their logo looks like a kindergarten project,” Chiara said. “I’ll sketch out some new designs.”
“I’m in kindergarten,” Landon said in a hurt tone.
“And you can help,” she responded. “You and I make a great design team.”
“After that remodel,” Liz said, “they won’t have money for major changes. But I might be able to tweak the placement and decor a bit. Enhance the wealth and prosperity quadrant, and fame and reputation.”
I sipped my wine. If feng shui brought this much life to a dusty old courtyard, it could work miracles at Bear Grass.
Ned offered to review their wine and drink offerings. That left Tony and Mimi, who exchanged a private look.
“Right now,” Mimi said, “all I can do is tell her I forgive her. Over the winter, maybe we can help her revamp her menu.”
“And add this filet?” I said. “Call it Drew’s Special?”
She wiped away a tear.
Ned poured more wine. “Fresca, did ya ever imagine, back when we started Summer Fair?”
The dark red liquid caught the light as she swirled her glass. “How it would grow? Take over the town for an entire weekend? That so many artists would come to depend on it?” She shook her head. “And now the next generation’s taken over, with their energy and ideas.”
“Time for s’mores,” I called. I’d prevailed on Greg Taylor to drop by this morning and hook up the propane patio heater and set up the charcoal fire pit. Landon handed me one of the long toasting sticks he and his dad had cut and I speared a plump white square, rubbed my stars, crossed my fingers, and hoped that Candy Divine’s marshmallows wouldn’t melt the moment flames licked them.
I crouched next to the pit and let my marshmallow turn a delicate golden brown, then sandwiched it between two of Wendy’s chocolate-covered graham crackers.
“Mmm,” I said, my mouth gooey and half stuck together. I raised the rest of my cookie in a toast. “Here’s to the sweet life.”
Hear, hear.
Tasting Notes
• • • • •
CELEBRATE SUMMER WITH THE MURPHY CLAN
Triple Mezzo
In the Mediterranean world, meze or mezzo are what Americans call appetizers.
An antipasto of hummus, olive tapenade, and goat cheese. Use an ice cream scoop to mound the three spreads in the center of a serving plate and surround them with crostini, crackers, or pita wedges, sprayed with oil and grilled. Kalamata olives and chunks of feta make this extra special.
(Fresca shared her bestselling recipe for olive tapenade in Death al Dente.)
Baked Stuffed Brie
If a perfect taste combo can be made more perfect, the sweet, earthy fig jam will do it.
1 sheet frozen puff pastry, thawed (about 30 minutes)
16-ounce wheel of Brie
¼ cup fig jam, optional
¼ cup sliced almonds, toasted (at 300 degrees for about 10 minutes)
¼ cup chopped parsley
1 egg, lightly beaten
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Lightly flour a surface and roll the puff pastry into an 18-inch circle. Slice the Brie in half horizontally and place the bottom half on the pastry. Spread the fig jam and top with the almonds and parsley, reserving a few almonds for garnish. Replace the top half of the Brie. Brush the pastry edges with the beaten egg and wrap the cheese; trim the pastry if necessary. Place the package on an ungreased baking sheet. (If you don’t like how your wrapped cheese looks, place the seams down.) Top with the remaining almonds and bake for 20 minutes. Let sit about 10 minutes before serving, with crackers, crostini, or a sliced baguette.
Toasted Pecan Caesar Salad
Bill adds a tang to the classic Caesar with a touch of mustard and a few capers, along with a handful of nuts. If you are making your own croutons, add garlic and salt to the olive oil when you toss them before baking. Many good bakeries and specialty stores sell yummy croutons made from day-old bread—get to know your local Wendy!
½ cup chopped, toasted pecans
1 large egg
1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 medium clove garlic, crushed
pinch of salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
1½ teaspoons anchovy paste, optional
1 teaspoon capers
½–1 teaspoon Dijon mustard, to taste
1⁄3
cup olive oil
1 large head romaine lettuce, washed and chopped or torn into bite-sized pieces
2 cups croutons
1⁄3 cup shaved or grated fresh Parmesan
lemon wedges, optional
Toast the pecans at 300 degrees for about 10 minutes. Remember that nuts continue to crisp up as they cool, so don’t overbake.
Coddle the egg: Bring a small pot of water to a boil and add the egg; boil for 2 minutes. Immediately remove the egg and cool it by rinsing it with cold water and letting it sit in a bowl of cold water. The idea is to heat the egg without hardening the yolk or white.
Make the dressing: Mix the Worcestershire, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper, anchovies, capers, and Dijon in a small bowl. Add the egg and whisk smooth. Slowly pour in the olive oil, whisking continuously. (If you add the oil all at once, it will separate and not emulsify.)
When ready to serve, put the chopped romaine in a large bowl. Add half the dressing and toss to coat. Add the rest of the dressing, the nuts, croutons, and Parmesan, and toss well. Serve on chilled plates with a lemon wedge. Serves 4–6.
Grilled Flank Steak
MARINADE
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon grated orange rind
½ cup fresh orange juice
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
½ teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 tablespoon fresh mint, minced
OTHER INGREDIENTS
1½ pounds flank steak, well trimmed of fat
2 large oranges, peeled, cut in half across the segments, and thinly sliced
fresh mint (whole leaves if small, or cut in ribbons, known as a chiffonade), for garnish
In a shallow glass or ceramic dish, combine the ingredients for the marinade. Add the steak; turn once to coat. Cover and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, turning the steak occasionally. Remove the steak. Transfer the marinade to a small saucepan and bring to a boil; set aside.
Heat the grill. Sear the steak 1½ minutes per side. Flip to the first side, brush with a little marinade, and cook 5 minutes, then turn and continue cooking, brushing occasionally with marinade. Test for doneness. (Flank steak is best cooked slightly pink; if well done, it becomes chewy.) Transfer to a carving board and cover with foil or a pot lid and let rest, about 5–7 minutes, so the juices can return to the meat.
Crime Rib (Food Lovers' Village) Page 26