by Linda Reilly
She noted with amusement that Aunt Jennie was studying Ryan with a sharp eye. Of the two aunts, Jennie was the practical one. Smart and analytical, she was no doubt sizing up Ryan for potential entrance into the family. Talia couldn’t help grinning when saw her Aunt Jennie reach over and squeeze Ryan’s wrist. He’d obviously passed one of her initial tests.
During the early hours of Saturday morning, the first snow of the season had fallen in the Berkshires, coating the ski slopes with eight inches of powder. The streets were messy, and a few fender-benders had been reported. Talia had grumbled about scraping snow off her Fiat, but in truth she’d been thrilled to see the white stuff.
“Are your mom and dad coming, Talia?” Ryan called to her in the kitchen.
Talia slid the deep-fried pound cake slivers onto a lined platter. “Nope. The siren song of the slopes was calling to them. They’re spending the afternoon at Jiminy Peak.” She plunked the orange sauce she’d made earlier into the microwave and warmed it for several seconds.
Lucas and his folks had been invited, but they’d already committed to visiting family in Vermont.
Talia had also invited Rachel and Derek to join them, but they’d already made plans to visit Derek’s dad in Florida for an extended weekend. There was one other person Talia had asked to join them, but so far she was a “no show.”
Talia delivered the snacks to the table, along with a simmering pot of spiced tea. Everyone helped themselves. The chatter eventually turned to Scott Pollard.
Arthur gave a slight shudder. “I simply do not understand the darkness that courses through the hearts of some people. What horror lives in that man’s soul that compelled him to commit such atrocities?”
“At least he confessed to both murders,” Ryan pointed out, his jaw tightening. “He’s probably angling for a lighter sentence, the lowlife.”
Talia nodded. “I guess Andy Nash is off the hook, although I still think he’s a stalker. He saw Scott coming out of the supply closet that day. He was terrified to go to the police, so he begged me to solve the crime!”
“Well, dear niece, you did solve a murder a few months ago,” Aunt Josie pointed out. “And now you’ve solved a second one. Seems to me he picked the right woman for the job.”
“Oh, no.” Talia shook her head firmly. “I am a fry cook, not a detective, and I intend to stay that way.”
Ryan beamed at her and raised his cupful of tea. “I second that motion.”
Talia grinned. “Oh, I forgot to tell you all! Yesterday I received the nicest letter from Lainie Johnson’s mother. She’s living in Arizona with her son now, but if she ever comes back to Massachusetts for a visit, she’s going to stop by and meet me. She said it was strange, but she could never picture Lainie’s boyfriend killing her. He was always a bit wild and impulsive, but never nasty or mean. She always had doubts about his guilt.”
A soft knock at the door made everyone turn. The door opened, and Martha Hoelscher stepped inside. Sans the smelly scarf, she wore her usual peacoat, along with sensible black rubber boots.
“Martha, you made it!” Talia slipped off her chair and hugged her employee. “Come in, I want you to meet everyone.”
Martha nodded at the group. “Hope I’m not late. Mass just ended, and I had to walk all the way from Saint Agatha’s.”
Talia had figured out why Martha complained about the long walk to work every day. She’d spotted her one morning leaving the church, where she apparently attended the early Mass every morning. From where Martha parked in the town lot, the church was in the opposite direction from the eatery. The walk back added just enough extra steps to make her start off her mornings a bit grumpy.
Martha peeled off her coat and slung it over a nearby captain’s chair. Talia made the round of introductions, and everyone greeted her warmly.
“By the way,” Martha said, accepting an offer of tea from Talia, “Father Francese gave you quite a plug in his sermon today. He praised you for slaying demons and for making the best fish and chips in the Berkshires.”
Arthur grinned. “I couldn’t have said it better.”
Talia felt her cheeks redden. She hadn’t been to Mass in so long that a wave of guilt washed over her. “That was sweet of him,” she said, hopping off her chair. She went over to the tree and reached behind it for a foil-wrapped box. “Martha, since you won’t be with us for Christmas, I wanted to give this to you now.”
Martha glared at the box. “We’re doing gifts? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“No, no, we’re not,” Talia said quickly. “But this is something I want you to have, especially since I … kind of ruined yours.”
Ryan set his mug down. “Okay, now I’m officially curious.”
Martha tore off the blue foil wrapping and opened the white box. Her eyes widened. With a wry chuckle, she pulled out the plush knitted scarf Talia had found at the Coat d’Azure. “Oh, boy, do I need this,” she said. “And it’s my favorite color—beige.”
Talia laughed. Martha’s smelly old scarf had served a noble purpose—tying the ankles of a killer until the police got there. The scarf was now retired, having been tossed out by the cops after they arrested Scott for murder.
Martha swallowed. “I am honored and proud to be a part of this eatery,” she said in a quiet voice. “Thank you.”
“You’re also a part of this family,” Talia said. “And don’t you forget it.”
At that moment, Talia’s ears caught the tinkle of a familiar sound. She splayed her hands over the table. “Listen, everyone. Do you hear it?”
From somewhere outside, the sound of harmonious voices filled the air. Bells chimed as the singing grew closer.
Aunt Jennie turned sharply toward the sound. “It’s the carolers. I haven’t heard them in years!”
Every year, on the Sunday before Christmas, a dedicated group of carolers strolled the sidewalks of downtown Wrensdale. Over the years the faces had changed, but the voices were always the same.
“Sounds like they’re right in front of the arcade,” Talia said, rising from her chair. “I have to take a peek!”
No one else wanted to brave the chill, so Talia slipped outside alone. Hugging herself for warmth, she gazed out across the cobblestone. Dotted with clumps of snow, its rounded stones gleamed under the pale December sun. If not for the cars passing along the busy main drag, it could have been a scene from Dickens.
Swathed in their forest green capes and sporting bright red earmuffs, the carolers ambled closer. Nine in all, they stood in a cluster at the entrance to the arcade. Their voices carried over the crisp air, sweet and trilling.
Talia heard the door to Fry Me open, and then a pair of muscular arms slipped around her.
“I wish it could be like this forever,” Ryan whispered, hugging her close.
Maybe it can be. Talia couldn’t make herself say the words aloud.
For now, this was perfect. The rest, if it was meant to be, would happen soon enough.
21
“Get out of here,” Talia told Martha. “I warned you we were closing at four on New Year’s Eve, and I meant it. Now scoot.”
A rare twinkle shone in Martha’s eyes. She untied her blue apron and tossed it into the bin near the door. Talia had recently contracted with a service to launder the linens and towels. The cost was reasonable, and it left her more time to focus on the task she loved most—trying out new deep-fry recipes.
“I hear you, boss lady. You don’t have to tell me twice.” Martha tucked her new beige scarf around her neck. Wearing her old peacoat and black rubber boots, she ambled to the doorway with more spring in her step than usual. Talia knew she was looking forward to her evening at the women’s shelter in Pittsfield. She’d started doing volunteer work there and loved it. This evening she was gearing up for a night of “deep fry” and storytelling, with Martha preparing snacks and then reading aloud stories by some of her favorite authors.
In a wry twist of fate, one of the raffle tickets Bea had bou
ght her at Suzy’s shop turned out to be a winner. Martha, who insisted she had no use for bath and body luxuries, was going to donate the basket to the residents at the shelter.
“It’s snowing,” Martha said, pausing in the open doorway.
Talia glanced past Martha onto the cobblestone arcade. Tiny flakes were drifting to the ground. Three inches were predicted by morning. “At least you’ve got new snow tires,” Talia said, grateful she’d been able to hand out sizeable holiday bonuses to her two employees. “But be extra careful, okay?” She’d been relieved to know Martha was spending the night at the shelter and wouldn’t have to drive home late on New Year’s Eve.
Martha frowned. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“I am,” Talia said. “I want to give the restroom a quick once-over, and then I’ll be out of here.”
Martha hesitated and then said, “Talia, thank you for everything. I wasn’t sure I was going to like living here, but now I feel as if it’s my home.”
Talia hugged Martha and pushed her out the door, locking it behind her.
Barely two minutes later she heard the door handle jiggle. No doubt it was someone who didn’t know about the early closing time, even though she’d put an announcement in the local paper.
Talia wavered for a moment, and then unlocked the door. A frail, haggard-looking man stood in the cold, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his thin jacket.
“I’m awfully sorry, sir, but we closed at four for New Year’s Eve. Try us another time?”
“I … I was actually looking for someone. Do you know if a, um, Talia Marby works here?” His voice was so soft Talia could barely hear him.
“I’m Talia Marby,” she said, her heart going out to this sad-looking soul. “Can I help you?”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “My name is Kyle Feeley, and I didn’t come here to eat. I only wanted to thank Miss Marby for everything she did.”
Kyle Feeley. What did that name jingle a bell?
And then it came to her. He was the man who’d spent over thirty years in prison for the murder of Lainie Johnson.
Talia opened the door. “Mr. Feeley, please come in. Can I make some coffee for you?”
He stepped inside and Talia closed the door. His sneakers, which looked new, were damp from the snow. “No, you said you were closed. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”
“Please, have a seat.” She pulled out a nearby chair and waved at him to sit. If she had to guess, she’d peg him in his late fifties, but he wore the world-weary look of a far older man.
“Are … are you sure? You said you were closed, and I only came to thank you, Miss Marby.” His faded blue eyes filled with tears and he sat down. “You gave me the rest of my life back, for whatever it’s worth.”
Talia swallowed back her own tears. “I’m going to make us both some coffee, okay? Give me a minute.”
She put on the coffee and returned to the table. “Mr. Feeley, I am so sorry for everything you’ve suffered. The system failed you, big-time. I can only hope they’re going to make amends.”
He shrugged. “I have a lawyer now, and she’s working on that. Whatever happens, it won’t be real quick.” He gave her a crooked smile, displaying graying teeth. “The system doesn’t work that fast, does it?”
Talia smiled. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“Miss Marby, I want you to know that I never would’ve hurt Lainie. I loved her.”
“I’m sure you did,” Talia said softly.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I had my faults. Back then I had a hair-trigger temper on me. But I never, ever laid a mean hand on Lainie. She was my life. I wanted to marry her.”
Talia looked at his hands. They were callused and dry. No doubt they were icy cold. She wished she had a pair of gloves to give him.
Kyle slid a glance toward the kitchen. “Your coffee does smell good. Not like the swill we drank in the joint. Maybe … I mean, could I have a cup to go?”
“You can have it to go or here,” Talia said. “Mr. Feeley, do you like fish and chips?”
His eyes brightened. “It’s one of my favorite meals, but I haven’t had the good kind in thirty years. In prison we only got the frozen stuff. It tasted like cardboard.”
In her head, Talia whizzed through her plans for the evening. Ryan was picking her up at six thirty. They were celebrating New Year’s Eve at the Wrensdale Pines with Arthur. The facility had hired a piano player to entertain the residents and their families. Arthur hadn’t stopped talking about it for days.
“I have a few chores to finish up in the kitchen,” she said, fibbing a little. In preparation for an early closing, she’d already completed her usual tasks. “If you give me ten minutes, I’ll whip up some fish and chips for you.”
Talia could tell he was torn. His eyes filled again. “Miss Marby, that would be the best gift anyone’s given me in a very long time. Thank you.”
She turned on the fryer and gave him coffee while he waited. Normally at the end of the day she tossed away any unused batter. But today, anxious to close early, she’d shoved the bowl into the fridge, figuring she’d throw it out tomorrow. Now she gave a silent nod of thanks to whatever sixth sense made her save that batter.
Sensing he hadn’t had a decent meal in ages, she added an extra slab of haddock to his meal.
Before he ate, he crossed himself and murmured a quiet prayer of thanks. She made herself a half cup of coffee and sat down with him.
Kyle raised his mug. “To freedom,” he said. “And to the woman who gave it to me.”
Talia lifted her mug to his. “To freedom,” she repeated. “And to a fresh start for the New Year. Cheers, Mr. Feeley.”
RECIPES
When Talia began experimenting with deep-fried snacks, she discovered she could use the same basic batter as a base and add sweet or savory touches as needed. The batter for her deep-fried meatballs contains Parmesan cheese and crushed basil for a little “zip.” The sugar and vanilla added to the deep-fried marble cake batter make it work well as a sweet batter.
Please be sure to take great caution at the stove when making deep-fried treats at home. A good policy is to keep children and pets a safe distance from the hot oil while you’re in the preparation stage.
TALIA’S DEEP-FRIED MEATBALLS
Talia spent her childhood at her nana’s elbow watching her make homemade meatballs. She knew that Nana tweaked the recipe depending on whom she was feeding. Ingredients such as fresh garlic, Parmesan cheese, and herbs can be adjusted to suit your taste.
If you’d like to cut down on preparation time for the deep-fried meatballs, there are many frozen brands that are quite good.
Meatballs
¾ pound hamburger
1 tablespoon finely minced onion
1 teaspoon crushed garlic (more if you’re a garlic lover!)
¼ cup Parmesan cheese
⅛ teaspoon coarse black pepper
1 egg
¼ teaspoon crushed basil
⅛ teaspoon crushed oregano
1 cup panko crumbs
5 tablespoons high-quality marinara sauce
Mix all of the above ingredients with a fork until well blended. Form into small-or medium-sized meatballs (about 1½-inch diameter works well, but you can make them smaller if you’d like).
Roast in preheated oven at 425 degrees in a roasting pan coated with nonstick spray for 10 to 12 minutes. The meatballs should be browned but not overdone. Chill in the fridge for at least a few hours or preferably overnight. They can also be frozen ahead of time.
Batter
½ cup flour
¼ cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons grated Parmesan cheese
½ teaspoon finely crushed basil
½ cup plus 1 tablespoon water
1 tablespoon beaten egg
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
Combine together in a mixing
bowl the flour, cornstarch, baking powder, salt, Parmesan, and basil. In a separate bowl, combine the water, egg, and oil. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and whisk until well blended.
In a deep fryer or heavy pan, heat additional vegetable oil to 350 to 375 degrees, using just enough oil to cover the meatballs. A candy/deep-fry thermometer will help gauge the oil temperature. One by one, coat the chilled meatballs in the batter. Using tongs, remove each meatball from the batter and lower each one slowly into the oil, but avoid crowding the pan. Fry until golden brown, about 3 minutes, then remove and drain on paper towels. Don’t worry if your deep-fried meatballs end up with little batter “tails.” They’re crispy and delicious! Serve immediately with warm marinara sauce.
TALIA’S DEEP-FRIED MARBLE CAKE
Talia buys her marble cake at Peggy’s Bakery, but there are some packaged marble cake mixes that would work nicely for this luscious treat and cut down on your preparation time. However, if you’d like to bake your own marble cake, here is a basic recipe that can be whipped up with ease:
Marble cake
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup white sugar
½ cup (1 stick) softened butter
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup milk
1½ tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
Preheat oven to 350 degrees, and grease or coat an 8-inch square cake pan.
Place all the ingredients except for the unsweetened cocoa into a mixing bowl. Beat on medium until smooth, about 2 minutes. Set aside about one-third of the batter and pour the remainder into the prepared cake pan. Add the unsweetened cocoa to the reserved batter and stir until thoroughly blended. Drop the cocoa batter by spoonfuls over the white batter. Using a butter knife, drag the cocoa batter through the white batter, making a swirly effect.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Cool thoroughly and freeze.
Sweet batter
½ cup flour
¼ cup cornstarch
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons white sugar