The Battered Body

by J. B. Stanley

  “So we’ve got a hostile young man who drove to the Shenandoah Valley and got a job on a goat farm where he produced bacteria-infested eggs that he somehow gave to Paulette.” James poked a meatball with his fingertip. “Sounds like a complicated and deliberate plan. Russ is no dummy.”

  Gillian’s expression was sorrowful. “It sounds like that young man was consumed by a desire for revenge. Instead of trying to live a life based on higher principals, it seems like he’s chosen to live one based on blame and the baser of our human emotions.”

  Lindy looked perplexed. “Am I missing something here? Why would this boy hate Paulette? Did she do something to his mother or to his grandma?”

  All eyes turned to James. “That’s an integral question and I’m hoping you can answer it.” Lucy’s voice held a plea. “If not you, then Milla.”

  A thought had been forming in James’s mind while Lucy had been speaking, and now he spoke it aloud. “Milla told me about their neighbor, a Mrs. D. She was an older woman who had hundreds and hundreds of recipes in her possession. She had shoeboxes filled with them. All the recipes were created by Mrs. D. from scratch. What if—?”

  “The Diva stole her recipes!” Lindy shouted. “And published them as her own!”

  “And don’t forget got rich and famous off ’em too,” Bennett added. “While the DuPonts stayed poor and downright miserable, Paulette was autographin’ cookbooks and hostin’ television shows.”

  They all chewed thoughtfully on their sandwiches as they tried to imagine Russ DuPont somehow discovering that his grandmother’s recipes had made another woman extremely wealthy.

  “Our hypothesis makes sense,” Lucy determined. “If Paulette did make off with the recipes, it would certainly explain why she never returned to Natchez. Still, without a confession from Russ, our theories are circumstantial.”

  “And there’s no sign of Russ right now,” James pointed out. “Do you think he’ll go back to the goat farm, or is he done exacting his revenge and is now on the run?”

  Gillian drew in a frightened breath. “Is Chloe in danger?”

  Lucy considered the question. “As the next beneficiary of Paulette’s estate, she may be.” Her blue eyes gleamed. “But if Russ is following the Diva’s money trail, it would mean that he won’t leave town—that he’s merely lying low someplace until he can get at Chloe. We’ve called dozens of hotels, but none of them have Russ DuPont registered as a guest. Still, he could be checked in anywhere under a false name.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing.” Bennett balled up his trash and scrutinized the crushed foil in his hand. “Aunt Wheezie ain’t gonna be much help fending off an angry boy bent on murder.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lucy assured them. “Chase’s death lit a fire under Sheriff Huckabee. With all the media attention zeroing in on Quincy’s Gap because of Murphy’s damn book, he doesn’t want to look inept. He’s got two deputies keeping an eye on Wheezie and Chloe. Someone’s watching them round the clock.”

  “Uh, that book!” Lindy spat out the word.

  “Would someone please tell me what happens at the end?” James pleaded. “I know it’s off subject, but everywhere I go someone mentions the ‘shocking ending.’ Would someone just put me out of my misery?”

  Lindy shook her head in refusal, but Lucy gave her friend a crooked smile. “Don’t worry, Lind. I know Murphy’s written it so that I get shot in the face in the final chapter. Donovan’s read the section aloud in the station at least six times by now.”

  “She kills your character?” James was aghast. Only the danger of his last meatball falling from its cushion of bread was able to distract him from such a shocking announcement. “That’s so—”

  “Nasty, cruel, vindictive, abusive, and childish!” Gillian supplied him with several apt adjectives. “I’ve pretty much summed up all our characters right there!”

  “I thought you weren’t going to read it?” James remarked in accusation.

  Gillian toyed with a tendril of hair. “I gave in to the temptation presented by my ego. And I regret it too. We should always be wary of giving in to our desire to see ourselves painted in a flattering light.”

  “My character doesn’t die!” Lucy shouted. “I’m just a bit disfigured, that’s all,” she added caustically. When James and Gillian again began to splutter in indignation, she crossly gesticulated at the pair of them. “Hello! We’ve got a murder case to talk about! Can we just forget about that dumb book and …,” she trailed off, but James noticed that her eyes had darted toward Eliot’s scrapbook at that moment.

  “What are our options?” Lindy inquired innocently. “If Chloe’s being guarded until she returns to Florida, there’s nothing we can do. Short of sneakin’ her away from her surveillance crew and leavin’ her in a place where Russ is sure to come for her, our hands are tied.”

  James imagined Chloe standing on the edge of the cliff from which her brother had been pushed, and he shivered. “Russ must’ve written Chase a note to entice him to the overlook earlier than everyone else. You didn’t find any evidence of that?” When Lucy shook her head, he sighed. “Then this guy has to be caught in the act. We need to have some kind of private affair—a reason to keep Chloe and Wheezie around a little longer.”

  Bennett stroked his mustache. “Yeah man, some kind of get-together? If there’s a bunch of folks around, Russ might feel like he can slip in and try to get to Chloe. And if Milla bought goat’s milk goodies from this guy, she’d be able to recognize him in a pinch. She could whisper in Lucy’s ear, and our favorite deputy would take him down!” He smacked his fist against his palm and then turned to James. “Got it! Is there gonna be a funeral for Chase?”

  “Not here,” James answered. “The ‘merry’ widow phoned Milla and said that she felt that the father of her children should be buried near where they live. Personally, I think she wants to dance on Chase’s grave, but Milla wanted the girls to be able to visit Chase, much like she wanted to visit Paulette.”

  “If there’s no need for a mourning ceremony,” Gillian grinned, “why not host a surprise party instead? I believe you are quite close to a couple who have recently exchanged commitment vows. Right, James?”

  “A party for my parents!” he exclaimed. “To celebrate their wedding! That’s a brilliant idea, Gillian!” His face fell. “Except for the fact that I’m totally penniless.”

  Lindy made a dismissive sound over his despair. “This is Quincy’s Gap, James!” She leapt up, grabbed her purse from the hallway, and pulled a pocket calendar from within. “Yes. I believe Wednesday would be a lovely evening for the supper club to host a surprise wedding reception in honor of Jackson and Camilla Henry. Does everyone agree?”

  “We do!” James’s friends shouted in unison and, still laughing at their response, they returned to their painting duties. Ideas and party plans were batted about as brushes and rollers covered the walls with warm hues.

  At one point, Lindy came into the kitchen for more paint. Brandishing her cell phone at James, she said, “You stay out of your son’s room until I’m done. I’m going to create the ultimate Curious George bedroom for him and call in a few favors from our friends and neighbors. We teachers are all blessed with the ability to multitask.”

  As she disappeared down the hall, James slung his arm around Bennett. “If Luis doesn’t get down on one knee pretty soon, I’m going to have to take a baseball bat to his leg.”

  “Well,” Bennett mumbled pensively, “that would get him down on his knees. But Lindy didn’t say she was lookin’ for a proposal. What she wants is for him to show the rest of the world he’s her man. In public.”

  “Like you did on national television?” James teased.

  “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” Bennett growled. “And no, that’s not what I’m sayin’. I do believe a good old-fashioned kiss would do the trick.”

  “In front of a group of people, such as the throng we’re going to gather together for our surprise party?”
James inquired.

  Bennett winked at him. “I couldn’t think of a better time for that man to lay one on Lindy. We’ll just have to help that happen, now, won’t we?”

  “Yes, we will.” James dipped his brush into a bucket of primer. “But I’ll bring my baseball bat. Just in case.”

  James and his parents attended church the next morning and, after a quick lunch of chicken tortilla soup and a salad of mixed greens, went their separate ways until suppertime. James wanted to stock his kitchen at 27 Hickory Hill Lane with food. He also wanted to arrange his new pots and pans, dishes, and eating utensils so that his family wouldn’t be forced to eat off the remainder of his animal-shaped paper plates.

  Having borrowed the Diva’s latest cookbook from the library, James had ambitious plans to bake a stunning cake to serve his loved ones that evening. Despite these lofty intentions, he found himself standing in the middle in the baking aisle at Food Lion staring dumbly at the ingredient list for the Diva’s Perfect Praline Pecan Bundt Cake.

  “You look lost,” a young woman’s voice teased. Willow pulled her cart alongside James’s and peered at the open cookbook. “She made that one for the TV show in December, remember? It’s really a delicious cake.”

  “It sounds like a perfect wintertime cake,” James replied with a sigh. “Too perfect. I’m not an experienced cook by any means, and I’m feeling daunted by these instructions.”

  Willow began scanning the shelves. She grabbed a box of cake mix and put it in his cart. “This situation calls for a shortcut. That cake mix is almost as good as the made-from-scratch batter, but it takes half the time and only three ingredients. Just concentrate on the icing and the candied pralines. Since you’re making those two by hand, no one will suspect that every ounce of your cake isn’t homemade.”

  Relieved, James scanned the directions for the frosting and pecans and decided they didn’t seem so challenging. “Thanks, Willow. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “No problem. I’m going to be using a few shortcuts too since I’m in charge of the wedding cake for Wednesday night’s party.” She looked pleased to have been asked. “I told Lindy that I plan to make cupcakes instead of a multi-tiered cake. Since we don’t have an army of waiters, cupcakes are better for a buffet. Your parents will get a miniature cake, of course, but I thought they might prefer a pair of white doves instead of the traditional bride and groom toppers.”

  James laughed. “I suppose there aren’t too many toppers of gray-haired couples. Thanks for being so thoughtful, Willow, and for taking care of all the sweets.” James placed a bag of pecans in his cart.

  “And don’t worry that I might be offending Megan Flowers by baking the wedding cake. The Sweet Tooth is supplying rolls for the dinner and a tray of wedding-bell cookies. It was really important to me to make Milla’s cake. She’s been so good to me, so different from Paulette.”

  A thought occurred to James. “I wonder how I’m going to get those goat’s milk products out of the house and packaged up before Wednesday. They’re in Pop’s shed and he never lets anybody in there when he’s not around.”

  “Your friend Lindy’s got that covered. She’s going to visit your father this afternoon as a representative of her mother’s art gallery and is planning to find a way to squirrel the party favors out.”

  James grinned at Willow. “‘Squirrel them out,’ huh? I do believe you’re turning Southern on us, my dear.” His smiled evaporated. “Poor Lindy. She might not get the warmest reception. Pop’s been in a bit of a painting drought lately.”

  “That happens to all creative types. Something or someone will get him back on track. Besides, two people who were supposed to be at his wedding are dead now,” she pointed out. “That’s got to have affected your father. Throwing him a surprise party ought to cheer him right up.”

  “You’re only saying that because you don’t know Pop. He’s going to hate being the center of attention,” James replied. Then he thought, But to catch a killer, it’s worth a little discomfort on his part.

  Quickly adding the rest of the cake ingredients to his cart, James also stocked up on toilet paper, paper towels, garbage bags, and cleaning supplies for his house. He nearly passed out when the total appeared in neon green digits on the cash register. Digging his credit card from his wallet, he sang wryly under his breath, “Hi ho, hi ho, into debt I go.”

  It was impossible to remain cross while filling the refrigerator and pantry in his newly painted kitchen. The room was too warm and welcoming to accommodate grumpiness. Switching on the radio, James sang along to a series of upbeat oldies, and he prepared the box of butter pecan cake mix. He was thrilled to be able to use the steel bowls, rubber spatula, measuring cups, and hand mixer Milla had bought him, and when he slid the bundt pan into the oven, he decided to make it a point to become an accomplished cook.

  “After all, I’ll be feeding my son on a regular basis,” he informed the oven proudly. Musing over what foods were preferred by a typical four-year-old, James found himself heading down the hall to examine Eliot’s room for the third time that afternoon.

  The supper club members had painted until well after dark the day before, and when Lindy finally exited Eliot’s room, she had looked tired but immensely pleased.

  “It’s got to dry overnight,” she had warned James before she would let him enter. “And you should tell the carpet guys to be really careful on Monday. After that, try to keep in mind that this is a boy’s room and every inch of it is gonna get dirty at some point.”

  “Stop stalling, woman!” Bennett had grabbed her by the arm. “Show us your masterpiece.”

  James, Gillian, Bennett, and Lucy had filed into Eliot’s room. Glancing around, they had exclaimed in delight and congratulated Lindy on a job well done. Their artistic friend had gone all out in order to create a room that any monkey-lover would appreciate. First, she had divided the wall in half, so that the upper walls became a cobalt blue sky and the lower half was a tropical forest floor. Trees, exotic plants, and flowers bloomed everywhere and several monkeys resembling Curious George swung from jungle vines. Butterflies, dragonflies, hummingbirds, and macaws also populated the forest canopy. On the wall where James planned to place Eliot’s bed, Lindy had painted George flying through the air as he clung to a bunch of balloons. The monkey wore his trademark grin of mischief and the shiny, plump balloons looked so realistic that James believed that if he stuck a pin into one it might actually pop.

  “Girl, you’ve got mad skills,” Bennett had praised Lindy.

  Lucy had nodded in agreement and then, a trifle sourly, asked, “What happens when he gets tired of Curious George?”

  “Then his Aunt Lindy will paint him something else,” Lindy had quickly responded, smiling at James. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages. Thank you for letting me do this.”

  Now, standing in the charming room, James felt as though there were too many hours between now and three o’clock, but in truth, he didn’t have that much time to finish his cake and assemble the kitchen table he’d hastily purchased from the local furniture store. The store owner attended the same church as the Henrys, and when James explained how desperately he needed his table and an extra two chairs delivered that very afternoon, the man promised to drive the items over himself.

  The tile-top table and six ladder-back chairs arrived by two. And though James only had to screw the legs to the table base, he also had to bake the candied pecans, which would serve as the cake garnish, mix the frosting, and move the bouquet of yellow carnations he had sitting in the sink to a glass vase.

  By the time the cake was cool, the kitchen table was set up and the flowers arranged. James was quite pleased with himself when he overturned the Bundt pan and the golden cake dropped effortlessly onto a cranberry-colored cake plate. James spooned the frosting over the top and sides, enjoying how it slowly dripped down the lines and crevices in the cake. Frowning at the puddle of icing pooling in the middle, he realized he’d probably poured on too much
at once.

  “Ah well. I’m not exactly the Diva of Dough,” he remarked to his creation, and then he meticulously placed the candied pralines in a ring around the top of the cake. He ate half a dozen during this exercise, wondering how Paulette had stayed so slim working with such tempting ingredients. “It’s a good thing library books aren’t edible,” he said, laughing at his weakness for sweets.

  When Jane and Eliot arrived, James covered his son’s eyes with a dishtowel blindfold and led him down to his bedroom. “Something smells delicious!” Jane exclaimed as she walked behind them. “And it’s not the new paint either.”

  “That’s the aroma of my homemade dessert wafting through the house. And as I mentioned on the phone this morning, Milla’s taking care of the rest of our dinner, so prepare yourself for a host of sumptuous scents. I thought we’d play with Eliot’s Legos until they get here. Milla bought enough blocks to add another room on to my house!”

  Eliot stopped in his tracks, almost causing James to collide into his small figure. “What are Legos?” he inquired, tilting his face toward James’s voice.

  James directed a tsk tsk at Jane. “Has this child been raised by wolves?” He laid his hands lightly on Eliot’s shoulders and prodded him forward. “Come on, son. I believe a few monkeys are waiting to meet you.”

  “Wow!” Eliot yelled when the blindfold was removed. “This is the best room ever!” After spinning around and around, he performed two somersaults in the center of the floor.

  “Thanks a lot,” Jane murmured and poked James in the ribs. “Now his room at my house is going to be unlivable in comparison.”

  “I wasn’t trying to make this a competition,” James apologized sincerely.

  Jane poked him again, and he let loose an involuntary giggle. “I’m kidding, you big orangutan. I think this room is awesome! One of your supper club friends is the artist, right? Tell us more about her.”