The Battered Body

by J. B. Stanley

  And yet, Jackson had also illustrated a fragility in Paulette’s wrists—the blue and green veins traveling beneath the thin skin were a reminder of the woman’s mortality. He had not spared the viewer her wrinkled knuckles or the ugly mole on the back of her palm, but the dough was clearly subservient to Paulette’s will. Yet, the overall feeling James experienced while staring at the picture was that even though Paulette Martine was a woman of determination, her strength and intensity had rendered her unavoidably bitter and lonely.

  “How does your daddy do it?” Lindy whispered to James. “It’s so her. A more fitting memorial than any words.”

  “He truly has a gift,” Gillian agreed. “It’s like he paints souls through a pair of hands. And the energy that radiates from every work is different, as unique as the subjects themselves. Spectacular! No wonder Lindy’s mother can’t keep them in stock in her gallery.”

  Scott and Francis plucked James on the sleeve and told them they were leaving in order to prepare for their midnight stakeout. After giving Milla sympathetic hugs, the pair headed for the door. However, Francis stopped short when he crossed Willow’s path and the two of them exchanged shy smiles and hushed conversation as if they were the only people in the room. On the other hand, James was sorry to watch Lottie wag an accusatory finger at Scott while adopting a very harpylike snarl. Murphy stood alongside her protégée, glancing at her with maternal pride, and James instantly pushed through the throng in order to show solidarity to his employee, but by the time he got there the Fitzgerald twins had gone.

  “You’re turning that girl into a shrew,” James growled at Murphy as Lottie threaded her way back to the buffet table. “Don’t you have a book to promote? Some slander to spread? An ambulance to chase?”

  Putting on a wounded expression, Murphy gesticulated around the church. “This is my community too, and I’m here to report on its news. Besides, I saw Paulette on TV and I wasn’t going to miss a chance to sample one of her cakes. I guess baking unbelievable desserts runs in the family.” She accepted a wedge from Lottie. “This is my third sample, mind you. And speaking of promotion, you’ll be happy to hear that I’ll be in New York for the release of The Body in the Bakery. From there I’m going on a twelve-city tour, so you won’t have to watch me chase ambulances for months.”

  “I’m taking over as the Star’s editor in her absence,” Lottie added with a smug smile.

  “Congratulations,” James replied politely. “But keep in mind that the people of Quincy’s Gap are more likely to share their stories with someone who is earnest, approachable, and modest. Kind of like Scott Fitzgerald. He’s only in his mid-twenties and the entire town loves and admires him. At least anyone with a lick of sense, that is.” He tried to give Lottie his sternest look. “Thank you for coming, ladies.” And with that, he turned his back on the two speechless journalists.

  Despite his determination not to succumb to the temptation of seeing plate upon plate of sweet-smelling cake everywhere he turned, conversing with Murphy and Lottie had put James on edge. Before he knew it, he had inhaled one slice and was carving away at a second, savoring the creamy butter-rum frosting and the spongelike moistness of the cake.

  “Everything Paulette said about this cake when she was on TV was true,” he said to Bennett. “Food like this is just too good to give up.”

  Bennett shrugged. “I’m not a big fan of eggnog.”

  “It doesn’t actually have any in the batter,” James explained. “Milla showed me the recipe. It’s the nutmeg that makes people think of eggnog.”

  Eyeing the few remaining pieces on the table, Bennett shot off like a cannon to claim one as his own. Within minutes, all the slices were gone, the coffee urns were nearly drained, and the gathering had been reduced from well over one hundred people to less than twenty.

  James washed down his last bite of cake with tepid coffee, threw away his trash, helped to clear away any signs of debris in the hall, and then slipped his arm around Milla. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “Am I ever! I can’t believe Wheezie! She’s not even sorry about what she said. Here, in church, she told me that she’s glad that Paulette’s dead! That the only shadow over her life had been wiped away! She said our sister’s only joy was in seeing others miserable and poor so she could gloat over being rich and famous and that people like that bring darkness to the world.”

  “Whoa.” James knew he’d have to share that statement with the supper club members. With Wheezie so plainly satisfied by Paulette’s death, she was a prime suspect. Assuming she had found transportation to the Widow’s Peak, she could have poisoned her sister, seeking a painful death as revenge for the hurt she had suffered by being denied a life with the man she loved. Looking at Jackson and Milla standing shoulder to shoulder, James said, “Pop, I’d say you picked the finest of the Rowe sisters.”

  Jackson snorted. “I’m glad the whole lot of them are leavin’ town. I don’t want to share my Christmas roast with those miserable people.” Looking at Milla’s weary face, Jackson took her hand in his. “I’m sorry. I know they’re your family and we don’t choose our kin, but not one of them has a drop of goodness in them.”

  “Oh, I think there’s good and bad in all of us, dear, but I’m ready for a break from them too.” She sighed heavily. “I wish we really could have laid my sister to rest today. Who knows what we’re going to have to deal with when those lab results come back.”

  “Don’t think about that now,” James advised as he covered Jackson’s painting with a sheet and slipped it under his arm. “Let’s just go home and watch The Christmas Carol and eat ourselves sick.”

  “And instead of going to bed and dreaming of sugarplums, I can dream about my new shop and you can dream about your darling house,” Milla smiled at James.

  “I’m stickin’ to sugarplums!” Jackson declared sulkily and the trio left the church, their arms linked, their voices lifted in laughter.

  The Diva’s Eggnog Cake

  2 cups cake flour

  21⁄2 teaspoons baking powder

  1 teaspoon salt

  1 teaspoon ground nutmeg

  11⁄3 cups brown sugar, firmly packed

  2 eggs plus enough whole milk to make 3⁄4 cup

  1⁄2 cup butter, softened

  2⁄3 cup whole milk

  1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Sift the cake flour into a large bowl. Add the baking powder, salt, nutmeg, and brown sugar. Crack the eggs directly into a measuring cup, and then add enough milk to total 3⁄4 cup of liquid. Beat the egg/milk mixture into the dry ingredients. Blend in the butter, and stir slightly until the mixture is smooth. Beat in the remaining 2⁄3 cup of milk and the vanilla. Pour the batter into three greased and floured 8-inch baking pans (or use cooking spray with flour, such as PAM baking spray). Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a knife or wooden toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool in the pan for 5 minutes, and then remove the cake from the pan to cool completely. Frost with the Diva’s Butter Rum Frosting, and garnish with a light sprinkle of nutmeg if desired.

  The Diva’s Butter Rum Frosting

  3⁄4 cup butter

  1 cup plus 21⁄2 cups confectioners’ sugar, sifted

  1⁄4 teaspoon salt

  5 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  11⁄2–2 tablespoons dark rum (depending on taste) or

  21⁄2 teaspoons rum extract

  1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

  Melt the butter in a large bowl. Gradually add 1 cup of the sifted confectioners’ sugar and beat well. Slowly beat in the salt and cream. Beat in the remaining 21⁄2 cups of the confectioners’ sugar

  1⁄2 cup at a time. Continue to beat until the frosting begins to thicken, then whisk in the vanilla, rum or rum extract, and the pumpkin pie spice. Allow the mixture to sit for a few minutes. Frost the cake using this prepared frosting.

  Life in Quincy’s Gap was r
emarkably uneventful once the holiday season was through. Slowly, life began to resume its normal rhythm of five-day workweeks and fleeting, two-day weekends.

  Children of all ages finally returned to school, having spent over two weeks indoors playing video games, watching movies, and sending instant messages to their friends. Their parents, finally relieved of hours of endless whining, bickering, and professed boredom from their progeny, welcomed the sight of the yellow school buses with great joy.

  James usually disliked the departure of the festive holiday season and the arrival of the cold, gray days of January, but as the first week of the new year flew by, he began to grow more and more excited about his little yellow house. He had driven by it several times since his bid had been accepted, visualizing how it would look in springtime with the dogwoods in the front yard showing off their soft, creamy blossoms and the redbud trees on the sides of the property displaying cheerful clusters of hot-pink petals.

  He happily imagined himself pushing a lawnmower across emerald grass, pruning the azalea bushes nestled against the house, and sweeping the dust and cobwebs from the porch. After tidying the yard, he’d sit on the back deck watching purple martins flitter in and out of the multilevel birdhouse Gillian had given him for Christmas and dream about the seedlings he’d buy for his vegetable garden.

  Everyone seemed to share in his excitement over 27 Hickory Hill Lane. All of the Christmas presents he received were for his new home. Milla and Jackson had showered him with goodies to outfit his bachelor’s kitchen, Bennett had bought him a fiber doormat decorated with the letter H, and Lindy and Lucy had pooled their money and bought him a pair of rocking chairs with padded seats for the front porch. Supplied with these treasures and his prized custom mailbox, James was itching to get the legal paperwork out of the way, but nothing he could do would speed up time, so he spent his spare moments quizzing Bennett and consoling the Fitzgerald brothers over their failure to apprehend Glowstar’s kidnapper.

  “Don’t buy another elf,” Francis had pleaded the day after Christmas. “Even though the kidnapper didn’t show, we’re not giving up on our little green assistant.”

  “The abductor came early, which is totally against the rules!” Scott had spluttered when James asked what had happened on Christmas Eve. “We were there just after eleven, but there was a note attached to the book drop and some footprints in that muddy patch near the bin. Now we know we’re dealing with a female. The boots had pointy heels.”

  Somehow, this revelation had surprised James. He’d expected a teenage boy to be the perpetrator. “What did the note say?”

  “‘Grow up,’” Scott had answered sulkily. “That’s it. Don’t know what they meant by saying that, but it made us pretty mad.”

  “Yeah!” Francis had nodded in agitation. “We had to go home and fight a bunch of virtual bad guys just so we could get back in the holiday spirit.”

  “Thank goodness for Age of Conan.” James had clapped them fondly on the back. “And I don’t think this mystery girl is done toying with you, so stay sharp and focused. Don’t let her get the better of you two. You’re better than that.”

  Their confidence buoyed, the twins spent the majority of their lunch break printing off pages of trivia questions for James to ask Bennett.

  Now, the day before Bennett was to leave for Philadelphia, he and James sat at the dining room table of Bennett’s tidy house and reviewed the cards from the Trivial Pursuit Greatest Hits board game.

  “I’ll be glad when this is over,” Bennett said after replying that Florida was the U.S. state at 345 feet above sea level. “I used to like facts and statistics and all that, but now I think my brain is finally full.” He waved at a wall calendar. “All I’ve done for half a year is read and study. What am I trying to prove anyhow?”

  “Bennett, it’s natural to be freaking out the night before you appear on Jeopardy! Especially since this is one of their rare live shows and you’re about to be on television in front of millions of people, trying to answer question after question of random trivia faster than your two competitors.” James dipped a carrot from the crudités he had made into a small bowl of fat-free onion dip. He waved the vegetable at his friend. “You should have let us drive up with you.”

  “Not a chance,” Bennett replied as the doorbell chimed. “I believe I can run off with a jackpot if I’m as focused as an air-traffic controller. So no distractions allowed!” He flung open his door.

  “The distractions have arrived!” Lindy called out gaily, carrying a Crock-Pot in her mittened hands. “And I’ve made my special Jeopardy! jambalaya just for you. Whoa! Try saying that three times fast.”

  Stepping inside behind Lindy, Gillian attempted the tongue twister. Then she said, “I’ve brought you some tea to drink tonight. Your mind is going to be spinning like a pinwheel when what it needs is to be serenaded and led to a place of peaceful stillness.” She handed Bennett a purple box covered with stars.

  “Not more pine bark!” Bennett exclaimed.

  Gillian smiled and patted his cheek. “No bark this time. Just some valerian, chamomile, St. John’s Wort, rose hips, lavender, raspberry, orange, spearmint, licorice, and skullcap. All organic and completely decaffeinated.”

  “St. John’s Wort? Skullcap? Are those herbs or rat poisons? Couldn’t I drink a six-pack instead?” Bennett muttered. “I’d sleep like a baby, and it would taste a hell of a lot better.”

  “By Buddha’s belly, you’d sleep terribly!” Gillian looked alarmed. “Alcohol interrupts sleep. It makes people have fitful dreams and actually decreases effectual rest. You might wake up at two in the morning and not be able to go back to sleep!”

  Now it was Bennett’s turn to be concerned. He pried open the purple box of tea and sniffed its contents suspiciously. “Smells kinda nice,” he admitted grudgingly.

  “It will serve you well,” Gillian promised, and then she handed him a yellow box of tea covered by silver lightning bolts. “Drink this blend before the show starts. It’s for mental alertness and has stimulating and energizing herbs such as ginger and a mixture of powerful antioxidants.”

  “Jeez. All I gave him was a purple rabbit’s foot.” James read the tea ingredients with interest.

  “Well, my jambalaya is lucky,” Lindy added. “It’s what I made for Luis on our first real date.”

  “Is everything back to snuggle, snuggle, kiss, kiss with you two then?” Bennett inquired.

  Without answering, Lindy walked into the kitchen and plugged the Crock-Pot into an outlet. She removed the lid, inhaled deeply, and then stirred the contents with one of the wooden spoons jutting out from a pottery canister on Bennett’s countertop.

  “He’s been wonderful when we’re alone together, but he still doesn’t want to go public with our relationship at school. That bothers me!” Lindy’s round face grew flush with anger. “Is he ashamed of me? Am I some fling he’s having on the side? Some bimbo?”

  “I doubt that’s it,” Gillian cooed. “Luis is no doubt wrestling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he wants to celebrate having his mother’s miraculous return to health, and on the other hand, he’s struggling with that final wish she’d made.”

  “Marry her friend’s daughter! Over my dead body! That man is mine!” Lindy’s Brazilian temper flared, and her dark eyes were fiery. “He doesn’t even know that girl, and he says he’s in love with me! Then why doesn’t he prove it by telling the other teachers?”

  Bennett and James exchanged worried glances. Neither man had any idea how to pacify Lindy when she was gearing up for one of her rare tirades. Luckily for them and for the jambalaya, which was being stirred, mashed, and nearly pulverized by the hostile jabs delivered by the spoon held in Lindy’s fist, someone knocked on the front door.

  “It’s me!” Lucy announced herself and entered the dining room. She placed a square baking dish covered by a checkered dishtowel in the center of the table. “I made cornbread.” Draping her coat on the back of a chair, Lucy sa
t down and then opened her large purse. “I’ve got something for you in here, Bennett.”

  Grinning mischievously, Bennett said, “It’s not a little green elf is it?”

  James poked him in the side with a celery stick. “Not funny. The twins are still hunting for that thing.”

  “Hey, keep your celery to yourself, man.”

  Lucy’s hand was sweeping around the interior of her bag. Exasperated, she pulled out balled up receipts, gum wrappers, and tissues until she could see more clearly.

  “I’d suggest you just dump the whole thing out onto the table, but I’m afraid of what might come outta there,” Bennett teased.

  “Like the rest of Peter Cottontail?” James playfully brandished the faux-fur rabbit’s foot.

  Gillian took a seat next to Lucy. “Or perhaps a few weapons?”

  Ignoring her friends, Lucy scowled as she rummaged through side pockets. “Here it is!” She handed Bennett a pencil. “Keep this in your pocket. It’s the luckiest thing I own.”

  Bennett grunted. “Thanks, friend, but this is an oral quiz. We only write somethin’ for the final question and I think they’ve got special pens for that. I don’t want to mess up their blue boards and owe them money, you know?”

  Pointing at the pencil, Lucy scowled. “That is the pencil I used on the written test I needed to pass to leave my life as an administrative assistant behind. It was the most important test I’ve ever taken and that was what I used to get a nearly perfect score.” She smiled at him affectionately. “Now it’s going to help you get all the answers right.”