After driving for about an hour, she saw a small town in the distance consisting of a few buildings and one traffic light. That was all that made up the small town of Riley, Texas. At the stoplight she made a left turn, then an immediate right turn onto Elm Street, the street Mr. Gordon had told her was where the FedEx store was located. She easily recognized the FedEx logo, told Sam to stay in the car, and walked into the nearly barren office.
She glanced around the stark room and didn’t see anyone, so she pushed the red buzzer located on the counter. A few moments later a grey-haired weather-worn woman walked out from a room behind the counter. “Hi. May I help you?” she asked Liz.
“Yes. I have a bottle I'd like to have FedEx’ed overnight. Can you do that? I guess I’m asking if it’s possible to overnight something, since this is pretty remote from any major Texas city.”
“Land sakes,” the woman exclaimed. “You want to pay the FedEx prices to send a bottle of what looks to me to be juice to someone? Whyever for?” She quickly put her hand up to her mouth and then said, “Sorry. Nate, my late husband, always tol’ me I asked too many questions, and it ain’t none of my business what the customer wants to ship. Shouldn’t have asked. By the way, my name is Cindy Lou Larson,” she said extending her hand across the counter.
“No problem,” Liz replied shaking her hand. “My name is Liz Langley, and yes, I do want to send it. Think it will go out today?”
“Yup, Rod should be here in ‘bout half an hour. Since it’s got liquid in it I think I better wrap it in bubble wrap. It’ll cost you twenty-five cents more. Is that okay?”
“Whatever you feel is the best way to send it so that nothing spills out of the bottle will be fine with me.”
“Course I’ll have to charge you fer a shipping box as well as the bubble wrap. All together it’ll come to $15.95. You’ll need to fill out this here address label,” Cindy Lou said. “Don’t recognize ya’ from bein’ around these parts, and I purty much know everyone. Might want to put yer’ home mailing address on the return address in case somethin’ goes wrong.”
“Thanks, I will, and no, I’m not from around here. My husband and I are staying at the Big T Lodge. We're from Northern California.”
“Lawdy, you must be bucks up to be stayin’ at that fancy schmancy place. That’s one humdinger of a huntin’ lodge ‘ol Jack done made fer hisself. Hear it’s got antique western furniture in it and a fer real chef. Course that Jack always did have some airs. Guess he’s really made a name for hisself if you come all the way out here in the dead of winter jes’ to hunt them ducks and quail he plants on his property.
“Never seen the inside of his place. Actually, never been near the property, but I hear it’s somethin’. Has special kennels for the dogs and all those ATVs fer takin’ the guests out to where they’re gonna hunt. Hear he’s even got a special buildin’ to store the ATVs in at night. Sure am a lotta money to spend jes’ to shoot some dumb birds. My ol’ daddy used to go out a few miles from here and get all we could eat, and he never had to spend a dime fer them.”
When Cindy Lou had finished wrapping the package, Liz paid her and opened the front door. As she was leaving Cindy Lou said, “Nice meetin’ ya’ Liz. Ya’ need anything else, come on back. Like I said, I know purty much everyone from ‘round these parts. Even know where a few bodies have been buried.”
“Thanks, Cindy Lou. I’ll keep it in mind.”
There was no one on the sidewalk. The town consisted of only a few buildings, the most prominent one being the Gordon Mortuary. It was a town that serviced the ranch people who lived for miles around it, certainly not tourists. This is one of the only towns I’ve ever been in that doesn’t even have a T-shirt shop, Liz thought.
She returned to her car and drove to the Gordon Mortuary. She parked and told Sam to stay in the car. She went into the mortuary, introduced herself to the receptionist, Selene, and left Milt’s attaché case and suitcase with her. Liz told her they were the personal property of Milt Huston. She asked Selene to give them to Mr. Gordon, so he could send them with the body when it was transported back to California.
CHAPTER 14
When Liz and Sam returned to the lodge, it was early afternoon. She remembered Jack had said in his welcoming speech the night before that the chef always made extra lunches for the guests who chose not to hunt that day. While the lunches for the hunters were quite elaborate and served on portable dining tables set up in the fields near the lake, the lunches kept in the refrigerator at the lodge were also supposed to be quite good. Even though the morning had been emotionally draining for Liz, she realized she was hungry. She knocked on the kitchen door, and a moment later she heard the chef’s voice say, “Come in.” Sam laid down in front of the door, as Liz walked into the kitchen.
“Mrs. Langley, how was your visit to the fair city of Riley?” Chef Jackson asked.
“Not much to see. I FedEx’ed what I needed to send, and then I decided there wasn’t much to see or buy in Riley, so I drove back here to the lodge. I may live in a small town, but I’ve definitely been to other cities that had a lot more action,” she said, laughing.
“Think what it’s like for me,” Chef Jackson said, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “I studied at the Cordon Bleu in Paris and then came back to the United States and worked in several very fine restaurants. The life I’m leading now is as different from those lives as night and day.”
“I must admit I’ve been curious about why you’re working in such a remote place as this,” Liz said, as she sat down on a stool at the large kitchen counter.
“I have a long-standing dream of owning my own restaurant. I worked my way up to sous chef at two Michelin restaurants, and some day I’d like to see if I could own a restaurant worthy of a Michelin star. I don’t come from a wealthy family. I grew up in Minnesota and consider myself very fortunate to have been able to study in Paris. I met Jack Mercer when I was the sous chef at a very fine restaurant in San Francisco. Jack enjoyed the food so much he asked the manager if he could meet me. We met and talked for a while. I had to get back to work, so he asked if I could meet him when I was finished with work that night. I did, and he offered me the chef’s job here at the lodge. He said he had a chef that was very good, but he had a vision of creating a five-star dining experience for his guests.
“He told me he wanted me to create signature dishes that were unlike any other hunting lodge, but still within the parameters of preparing different types of wild game. He pays me a fortune to cook for the hunt guests, and I, in turn, try to come up with unique meals that will be remembered by his guests. I think I’ve succeeded to some point, because I’ve been cooking here for several years, and almost all of the guests that are here now are returning guests. Some of them have told me they come back just for my cooking. I don’t believe that, but it’s nice to hear.”
“I’d like to hear more about the guests,” Liz said. “Jack mentioned there were always some lunch meals in the refrigerator, and I think I’d like to have lunch now. Is this a bad time for me to be here? Would you rather I take my lunch and eat it elsewhere?”
“No. Actually, this is a good time, and I need a break. I’ll join you if you don’t mind. It’s rare anyone ever comes to my kitchen to eat lunch. The guests feel if they’ve paid a huge amount of money to come here, they definitely should be out hunting, not talking to the chef in the kitchen. Let me get our lunches, and if you’ll allow me, I’ll pour you a glass of wine to go with lunch. When I lived in Paris I learned how much better food is with a glass of wine.” He returned a few moments later with two plates of food and two glasses of wine.
“This looks interesting. What is it?”
“Well, since this is cattle country, we prepare a lot of dishes that have some form of beef in them. I’ve prepared a salad with bits of meat in it, but first I made something I’ve never seen in the United States. It’s an appetizer made with elk meat that has been slow-cooked with a sherry-maple glaze. I made the bread thi
s morning, and the wine is a carmenere from Chile. I know American wines are very good, but I think this particular wine sets off the meat perfectly. After all, South America is known for its barbecued meats, and they often drink carmenere wine with them. I didn’t think I could improve on the wine selection by serving an American wine.”
Liz took a cube of the elk meat appetizer, cut it, and ate it. A moment later she said, “I’ve never had anything quite like this. It’s wonderful, and yes, to my unsophisticated palate this wine is the perfect accompaniment. Unfortunately, we don’t have elk where I live, so I don’t think this particular dish will be something I could use at my lodge and spa.”
“Ahh, that’s a pity. It really is such a delicacy your spa guests shouldn’t be deprived of it.”
“I agree, but I’d like to change the subject. I really would like to hear about the guests who are staying here at the lodge. I'm fascinated that there are so many returning guests.”
“Well, as I said, some tell me they return for my food. Many return for the hunts, and I think one or two others return for reasons that have nothing to do with hunting.”
Liz looked up from her plate. The little niggle she got from time to time seemed to be telling her that the following conversation might prove very useful in discovering if there was more to Milt's death than simply not waking up after going to sleep.
CHAPTER 15
Liz took another bite of the elk meat and had a sip of her wine. She put down her fork and said, “You mentioned there were a couple of guests who might be returning for things other than your food and the hunts. Why do you think they return, if I might ask?”
“You know, I haven’t had an opportunity to sit down and talk like this since I don’t know when. As a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever have since I’ve been here at the lodge. Like I said earlier, almost all of the guests hunt. Actually, you’re the first one who doesn’t. I’m sure some of the wives would prefer not to, but they usually hunt to please their husbands and justify the cost of the lodge. Once in a while someone gets sick, but they usually stay in their room, and we take tea and toast up to them or one of the lunches I keep here. Anyway, I probably spoke out of turn, particularly now that Milt Huston is dead. Jack mentioned you were going to help with the mortuary and call his wife,” Chef Jackson said. “It really is none of my business, and I don’t think Jack would like me telling tales or passing on idle gossip.”
“It may be none of your business, but I find it odd that a man in good health, and from what I hear, is an avid health addict, dies in his sleep when he’s only in his early fifties. I mean sure, it could happen, but I wonder if there’s more to it than that,” Liz said. “I’m not satisfied in my own mind that Milt died of natural causes. Don’t get me wrong, he very well may have, but on the off chance he didn’t, I’d appreciate it if you would tell me whatever you know.”
“He certainly was a health addict,” the chef said. “He was a vegan, which meant he wouldn’t eat any animal products. I always made three special meals for him each day. We even kept the beet juice he made each morning in special bottles in the refrigerator, so he could have a bottle during the cocktail hour and another one when he went to bed. He said it really gave him a lot of energy. I tried it once and practically gagged. I thought it was horrible. Anyway, as much as I like to cook and eat, I could never be a vegan.”
“That makes two of us. I consider eating one of the best things about being alive,” Liz said laughing.
“I’d like to ask you a question if you don’t mind,” Chef Jackson said. “Why are you getting involved in this? It seems like you’ve done what you needed to do, that is, staying here and waiting for Mr. Gordon to take Milt’s body to the mortuary as well as notifying his wife. Beyond that, I don’t quite understand what it is you want.”
“Nor do I,” Liz said. “It’s kind of strange and certainly nothing I ever set out to do, but in the last couple of years I’ve helped solve several murders, all of which involved me, my spa, or people I cared about. While it’s true I know very little about Milt Huston, my husband went to law school with him and thought he was a very good man. I understand he was quite liberal and had even called a press conference for next week announcing he was going to be a candidate for the office of governor of California.”
Liz took a deep breath and continued, “I know this may sound silly, but from the time I was a little girl I had this thing I’ve learned to call a niggle, for lack of a better word. It’s like a little voice in my head that talks to me. It’s helped me all my life with things like crossing to the other side of the street before a car jumps the curb, or making sure my car door’s locked. In the murder cases I’ve recently been involved in, each time the niggle has demanded my attention, and I’ve learned to listen to it. It’s been very active this morning. That’s why I’d like to hear whatever you can tell me about Milt and the other guests.”
Chef Jackson put his fork down and appeared to be deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “The last two times Milt was here I’m certain he was having an affair with Amanda DeLuise. Her husband, Emilio, likes his drinks and really likes his brandy after the hunt and dinner. He usually stumbles off to bed quite early, and Amanda stays down here and talks to the other guests. Several times I noticed that after Milt left, very soon thereafter she would say good night to everyone and likewise leave. I think what I observed in the past is true based on what I heard last night.”
“And what would that be?” Liz asked.
“After dinner I heard angry voices just outside the kitchen. They were coming from the porch. I’m sure I heard Amanda saying ‘So you couldn’t wait any longer, is that it? I told you I was going to divorce him and then we could get married, but instead you wanted the perfect wife for your campaign, right? You didn’t want to have to deal with the issue that you and a divorcee were planning on getting married.’ A man’s voice who I’m certain was Milt’s answered her, ‘You got that right. I finally came to realize that the only thing you care about is money, and you knew I’d never have the kind of money Emilio has. I hope you’re happy with him. I’m just glad he never found out you were having an affair with me.’
“Amanda answered him and said, ‘You don't know that for sure. He very well just might know about it and may want to take revenge against you. Italian men are not known for taking cuckoldry lightly. Anyway, now that you’re a married man, it’s over. It's one thing for me to have an affair with a single man, but quite another to have one with a married man.’
“The man, who I believe was Milt, answered her with a line I’ll never forget. He said, ‘Taking a lot for granted, aren’t you Amanda? I don’t recall ever suggesting we resume our affair now that I’m married, and for the record, now that I’m married, our affair is officially over.’”
“Was that the last thing you overheard?” Liz asked.
“No. I heard Amanda say in a low and very angry voice, ‘Merde,’ and then it became very quiet. I’m not exactly sure what the word means, but I don’t think it’s a warm fuzzy word. Anyway, that was the end of their conversation, and they both left the porch. It’s none of my business, but it seems to me Amanda might want Milt murdered, because she was so angry and then again, maybe her husband knew about their affair, and only pretended to be drunk. Maybe he wanted to exact revenge on Milt. I don’t know. I’m just telling you what I heard.”
“Wow! Does Amanda hunt?”
“Amanda does whatever her husband, Emilio, tells her to do. It’s a business arrangement, you see. He gets a young attractive wife, and she gets all the money she wants. They came all the way from Italy for this hunt. Evidently he owns a large prestigious winery over there, and his family is very well-respected. His wine is excellent, and he always brings several cases of it when he comes to the lodge. He owns a large private jet, and his pilot flies them here in it. Jack has a private airstrip for guests who have their own planes, and you’d be amazed at how many do.” He looked at his watch and said, “I’m so
rry. I had no idea it was getting so late. I must begin to prepare things for dinner.”
“Chef Jackson, thank you so much for your time and the information. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” Liz stood up and looked around. “There are twenty guests staying here at the lodge, and I imagine all of them will be hungry after today’s shoot. I don’t see anyone else here in the kitchen. Surely you don’t do all the preparations yourself?”
“No. You met my assistant, Cassie, earlier. She spends several hours each day at church. She is a born again Christian and is quite religious. She told me once that religion had saved her life. I don't know what she meant by that, and she’s never told me, but I do know she’s about the most conservative person I’ve ever met.
“Cassie also doesn’t approve of the wine Emilio brings with him. I think she believes the devil resides here at the lodge because of all the excessive drinking and all the fine food that is served. I don’t think she’d be working here if there were any other jobs available in the area. I can’t remember whether she’s divorced or a widow, but she has to work to support herself. In this part of Texas jobs are pretty hard to come by, and she knows a number of other people would like to have her job, so she continues to work here even though she doesn’t like or approve of what goes on here at the lodge.”
“One last thing,” Liz said. “If she’s that conservative, did she ever say anything about Milt? He's certainly got a reputation for being very liberal.”
“Yes, he’s been here several times, and she ranted and raved to me about how she was very much opposed to his position on abortion and his stand on keeping the Planned Parenthood Centers open. For weeks that was all she talked about. She even made the comment that someday Milt would surely have to pay for the evil he was promoting.” Chef Jackson paused and looked at her. “Do you find that significant?”
Murder at the Big T Lodge: A Liz Lucas Cozy Mystery Page 5