The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  Jen waved her hand, dismissing Bethany’s theory. “It’s not a crime to have a plan B.”

  “Um, it kinda is if plan B is murder!”

  “It was an accident,” Jen said stubbornly. “I grabbed her purse—my purse, by the way. You have no idea how annoying it was to see her flashing it around with my initials on it. She tried to hang onto it, but I pulled harder, and she fell backward off the platform. It was just bad luck that the train came at that moment. I didn’t even stay to watch.”

  “You went back through the tunnel,” Bethany said. “And out of the men’s restroom. You and Ben must have just missed each other. Then you realized having two purses looked suspicious, so you dumped the black purse with Trevor’s keys in it into the trash can. And you were back at the soup kiosk before anyone noticed you’d been gone. It wasn’t until then that you realized the check wasn’t in the purse.”

  Jen nodded. “I was shaking so badly, I could hardly serve customers, but then Aaron got off the train and found me, and that calmed me down.”

  “Does he know you’re a murderer?” The words slipped out before Bethany realized how incendiary they were.

  Jen’s rage boiled over. She grabbed the glass paperweight from Ben’s desk and charged at Bethany. “I told you, I didn’t kill her on purpose!”

  Bethany ducked as Jen swung the paperweight at her head. “If you didn’t mean to do it”—she ducked again as the heavy object whizzed by her forehead—“let’s just go tell the police it was an accident. Mar—Jen provoked you, stole from you...” She crouched, panting, waiting for the woman’s next move.

  Jen gripped the paperweight so hard her knuckles were white. “I just want my life back, and I can’t get it back without this check. I’m going to walk out this door, get on a train, go back to Santa Cruz, get married to Aaron, and live a regular life!”

  “I can’t let you take that money. It belongs to the station.” Bethany’s eyes were trained on the makeshift weapon.

  “And I can’t let you leave this room, knowing what you know, until I can get away. I’m sorry I have to do this. I’ll try to just knock you out, not kill you, but no promises.” Jen stepped toward Bethany and swung again, but she was too slow; Bethany jumped out of the way.

  “Look at the check! It’s not even real—it’s a decoy. The real check is already in the bank, in the historic restoration fund.”

  Jen set the paperweight on the desk and reached into her purse. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Bethany dove for the object and sent it flying onto the floor. “Charley!” she yelled, as Jen grabbed her by the bun on top of her head.

  The door flew open, and Charley barreled into the room, gun drawn. “Drop her! Now!”

  Jen released her grip on Bethany’s hair, and Bethany stood, rubbing her scalp.

  “Drop the purse, too,” Charley growled, “and turn around and put your hands on the desk.” Jen reluctantly obeyed.

  “Did you hear her confess?” Bethany asked breathlessly. She scooted the pen set on Ben’s desk out of Jen’s reach, and Jen glared at her.

  “Yup,” Charley said, as she clasped handcuffs around Jen’s wrists. “Jen Smith, you are—ugh, let me try that again. Marigold Wonder, you are under arrest.” She looked over at Bethany and shook her head. “I am never going to get that straight.”

  Charley finished reading Jen her rights, picked up the purse, radioed the police station for a squad car, and escorted Jen out. Bethany followed behind. As she passed the door to the women’s restroom, she ripped down the out-of-order sign. Charley tried to hustle Jen outside as fast as she could, but Kimmy spotted them right away, and her mouth fell open in surprise. She elbowed Garrett and pointed, and he almost dropped his tongs on the floor.

  Bethany hurried over to the food service table. “Can you believe it?”

  Kimmy shook her head. “I know I shouldn’t say this, but I’m so glad it wasn’t one of our friends.”

  “She was such a nice girl, though,” Garrett said, frowning. “She and Olive really hit it off.”

  “You know what Olive says. Desperate people do stupid things. Oh, look!” Bethany pointed. Aaron had spotted Jen leaving Newbridge Station in handcuffs and was sprinting after her. “I don’t think he knows. He really did arrive on the 10:55 that killed Marigold—argh, I mean Jen Smith.”

  Kimmy blinked. “What? I think you better break that down for me.”

  Bethany nodded, scanning the room. “Where’s Olive?” Spotting her, she waved her arm, beckoning her over to join them. She motioned to Ben, too. “I only want to explain this once.”

  “What about Milo?” Kimmy asked. “He’ll want to know.”

  Bethany grinned at her. “I guess if he wants to know, he’ll have to come talk to me on his own.”

  “It’s almost time for the service to start,” Olive said, joining them. She patted Ben’s arm as he walked up. “Ben’s going to speak first, and then Jen will say a few words, and—”

  Bethany stopped her. “Jen’s been arrested. Or rather, Marigold has been. That’s why I called you both over. This whole thing is because Jen stole Marigold’s identity.”

  Ben shook his head, confused. “Before or after she was killed?”

  “Charley arrested Jen for identity theft? Then who killed Marigold?” Kimmy asked.

  “Let me start over—I didn’t explain myself well. The person we knew as Marigold was really named Jennifer Smith. She stole the identity of a woman named Marigold Wonder, whom we know as Jen. The fake Marigold racked up over fifty thousand dollars worth of debt in the real Marigold’s name. And then the real Marigold tracked her down to try and recoup the money, which is why the fake Marigold blackmailed Ben for the restoration fund check.”

  “Whoa!” Kimmy said. “I did not see that coming. So Jen—I mean, the real Marigold—pushed the fake Marigold in front of a train? Why?”

  “Once our Marigold knew the real Marigold was onto her, she decided to run off with the money rather than giving it away. She was probably planning to leave soon, anyway...”

  “Of course! That’s why she dyed her hair the same color as yours”—Olive gestured to Bethany’s head as she spoke—“and started making soup. She was turning herself into Bethany Bradstreet. Oh, poor Jen—I mean, poor real Marigold. She is such a nice woman, Bethany. I wish you could have gotten to know her.”

  Bethany snorted, remembering how Jen had swung the glass paperweight at her head. “Well, not that nice, because when she figured out that the fake Marigold was planning to leave on the 10:55, she went down to the platform to confront her. She might not have planned to kill her, but she was willing to do it—and she did. And she was also willing to let Ben go to jail for it, even though she knew he didn’t do it.”

  “Can’t believe we fed her waffles this morning,” Garrett muttered. “A murderer in our house.”

  Kimmy looked at him sympathetically. “Don’t feel bad. This whole situation has taught me that one bad act doesn’t mean a person is all bad. It can mean they were stupid or careless or desperate in that moment. The real Marigold has to pay the price for her actions, but we don’t have to hate her for killing our Marigold. We can just be sad for both of them.”

  “Very true, Kimmy.” Olive squeezed Kimmy’s shoulders with one arm.

  “I can hate her a little,” Ben said darkly. “I did not enjoy my time in the clink.”

  Olive’s forehead creased. “Ben, honey, what are you going to say now? If you don’t want to give a speech, I understand. We can just ask for a moment of silence.”

  Ben shook his head. “No, everything I was going to say is still true, even if Marigold’s not the person I thought she was. Let’s get this memorial started.”

  Bethany stayed with Kimmy at the food service table as Olive, Garrett, and Ben walked to the front of the audience, and the noisy crowd settled down into a low murmur.

  “The soup was a huge hit,” Kimmy whispered. “We’re down to the bottom of the pot, and I think people w
ould have eaten those breadcrumbs with a spoon if we’d had more of them. Marigold would have definitely copied this one.”

  Bethany looked over at her friend and grinned. “Good. That was the goal—make something worth stealing.” She stopped talking when Ben moved to the microphone and tapped it, clearing his throat.

  “Friends,” he said, spreading his hands to welcome the hundred or so people who filled the benches. “We gather here to remember the woman we knew as Marigold Wonder.”

  Nice sidestep on the whole identity theft thing, Bethany thought.

  “I can’t give you her life history because I don’t know it. But I knew her as a friend, and I can tell you—she was exciting. She lit up any room she entered, even a room as big as this one.” Ben motioned, taking in the vaulted ceiling of the concourse. “If you met her, you never forgot her. Not her name, not her face, not the energy she brought with her everywhere. She had hardship, as we all do, but Marigold took what was good in life and left the rest. We can all follow in her example. We can all shine a little brighter. So I ask you, instead of mourning her, to enjoy your life. Breathe deeper. Love more. Learn from the people around you. Drive the long way because it’s more beautiful. Plant flowers instead of grass.”

  Bethany smiled. Put some glitter on it.

  Ben continued. “That’s what Marigold would do, and for all the things she got wrong, that was something she got right.” He stepped back from the mic.

  Bethany felt her throat tighten, and when she glanced at Kimmy, she saw tears in her friend’s eyes, too. Olive stepped to the mic and requested a moment of silence, and they both bowed their heads along with the rest of the crowd. When Bethany raised hers again, she saw Milo heading for her table, an eager look on his face.

  “I was looking for you all over!” He put his backpack on the table and started rummaging through it. Caboose emerged from under the tablecloth and wound around Milo’s legs, purring. “Forgive me for being late and missing out on the soup again, but—”

  “Hold that thought,” Bethany said. She jogged over to the Souperb Soups kiosk and grabbed the pot of spring pea soup that she’d left on the warmer. She brought it back over to the table and poured it into a bowl. “We’re all out of the garnish, but I’m not letting you get out of tasting my soup this time!”

  Milo took the soup and looked at her in awe. “You are amazing. I can’t believe you thought to put some aside for me.” He inhaled the steam rising from the top of the bowl and then set it down beside his backpack on the table and returned to his rummaging.

  Bethany threw up her hands in exasperation. “Really, you’re going to let it get cold now?”

  “One sec.” He pulled a bag of cat treats and a photocopied page out of the backpack. He bent to offer Caboose a treat, then handed the paper to her and picked up his soup again. “You read while I eat.”

  “Glad the soup tasting rates now that Caboose is happy.” Bethany chuckled at the cat’s smug expression and took the sheet of paper. “What is this?”

  Milo stopped with his spoon poised above the surface of the soup. “It’s a page from the 1995 Santa Cruz Municipal School yearbook. I requested it through interlibrary loan while I was doing research for the profile. Look at Marigold’s picture.” He dipped his spoon into the soup and took a bite, and Bethany watched him intently. He closed his eyes and quickly took another bite, and another.

  He likes it! Bethany relaxed and scanned the paper in her hands. Classic yearbook photos. Marigold wasn’t Marigold, of course—it was obviously Jen. Her beauty mark was in the exact same spot on her upper lip.

  She put the paper down on the table. “What do you think of the soup?”

  Milo scraped the last few drops from the bottom of the bowl. “It’s perfect. Literally perfect for the day and for the occasion. And absolutely worth the wait.”

  Bethany’s heart swelled with pride. That was the reaction she’d been hoping for. “Now you understand why I don’t make soup of the yesterday. Every day deserves its own recipe.”

  Milo nodded. “So, what do you make of the yearbook? I don’t think Marigold was who she said she was. That picture looks a whole lot like her cousin.”

  Bethany bit her lip. “Sorry to be the one to tell you, but this is old news.” She caught him up on the fake Marigold’s deception and the real Marigold’s arrest.

  “Shoot,” Milo said when he’d heard the whole story. “And here I thought I was breaking the case.”

  “It’s still breaking news, even if the case is solved! It’ll make a great twist for the profile you’re writing, anyway. You might get the front page.”

  “If I have my way, your soup will make the front page.” He smiled, his brown eyes sparkling. “Hey, how would you feel about taking a ride with me this afternoon? I’ve been meaning to ask you since I ran into you at the library and saw your bike. The path along the Newbridge waterfront is world-class.”

  “It’s one of my favorite places, actually. But aren’t you going to be busy writing up your articles this afternoon? I assume you’re on a deadline.”

  “You got me there,” he said ruefully. “Maybe I could take you out to eat tonight instead—I know a lot of great places. Perk of the profession.”

  Bethany suppressed a smile. “I’m afraid I have dinner plans already.” She stole a glance across the room at Ryan. Milo followed her gaze, and when Ryan saw them both looking, he gave a brief wave in their direction.

  “With that guy?” Milo looked at her disbelievingly. “He looks straight out of the pages of GQ!”

  Bethany bristled. She had intended to tell him that it was just a volunteer gig at the shelter, but his skepticism that a handsome guy would ask her out got under her skin, so she just nodded. Let Milo Armstrong chew on that!

  His face fell. “So, you and him—is it serious?” He cleared his throat and fumbled for the notebook in his pocket. “Just background info for the food feature, you know? Readers like some little personal details. You don’t have to answer.” He looked a little tortured.

  It was none of his business who she was dating, but Bethany decided to let him off the hook. “We volunteer together at the homeless shelter. I make soup, obviously.” She lifted her ladle a little and shrugged. “That’s me, soup lady even on the weekend.”

  Milo’s face broke into a relieved grin as he scribbled in his notebook. “That’s great, people will love that. How about tomorrow for that bike ride?”

  “I might be free,” Bethany said, a smile spreading across her face.

  “So that’s a yes?”

  Bethany winked at him. “My answer will have to wait—at least until after I read the food feature. I can’t very well go out with someone who doesn’t like my cooking.”

  KEEP READING AFTER the recipes for a sneak peek of Chili con Carnage, Book 3 in the Death du Jour Series!

  Recipes

  Avgolemono Soup

  AVGOLEMONO IS A CLASSIC Greek soup that has a broth enriched and thickened with eggs. The trick is to make sure they don’t scramble! It takes a little bit of babysitting, but the creamy, lemony result is worth the effort.

  Ingredients

  6 cups chicken broth

  1 tsp minced fresh marjoram, dill, or parsley

  ½ cup uncooked orzo pasta

  4 eggs

  juice from 2-3 lemons (about 5 Tbs)

  1 cup shredded carrot

  1 large skinless, boneless chicken breast, cut into cubes.

  salt and pepper

  Directions

  Using a blender, mix eggs and lemon juice until smooth. Set aside.

  In a large saucepan, heat chicken broth and herbs to a boil. Remove one cup of hot broth. With blender on, slowly add the broth to the lemon-egg mixture until smooth and thoroughly combined.

  To the remaining broth in the pan, add orzo and simmer until orzo is just tender (about 5 minutes).

  Add the grated carrot and cubed chicken to the pan. Bring the soup to a simmer over medium heat and cook until
the chicken is done (about five minutes). Season with salt and pepper to taste.

  Reduce the heat to low.* Slowly add the egg mixture to the pan, stirring constantly so the egg doesn’t scramble. Cook an additional 30 seconds and then remove from heat to serve. Do not allow the soup to boil.

  * If you’re cooking on an electric range that doesn’t have a responsive burner, remove soup from heat or move to a new, low-heat burner before adding eggs to avoid scorching and scrambling them.

  Split Pea with Ham Soup

  JUST LIKE YOUR GRANDMA used to make. This is perfect to cook on a chilly weekend afternoon due to the long simmer time required.

  Ingredients

  2 Tb butter

  2 carrots, peeled and chopped

  2 celery stalks, chopped

  2 onions, chopped

  12 oz dry split peas, rinsed and picked through for pebbles

  1 lb smoked ham hocks

  1 russet potato, peeled and chopped

  1 Tb chopped fresh thyme

  1 tsp brown or Dijon mustard

  12 oz beer (optional—substitute water or chicken broth)

  6–8 cups water

  2 Tb apple cider vinegar

  salt and pepper

  Directions

  Melt butter in a large pot over medium heat. Add carrots, celery, and onions and sauté until vegetables begin to soften.

  Stir in split peas, ham hocks, cubed potato, thyme, mustard, beer, and water. Bring soup to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, until ham and split peas are tender, 2–3 hours. Stir occasionally to prevent burning. You may want to set a timer for this, because burned split peas are pretty terrible.

  When split peas are tender, remove the pot from the heat and remove the ham hocks. When they have cooled a bit, remove the meat from the bones and skin and cut it into small pieces. Return the meat to the pot, discarding the bones and skin.

  Add the apple cider vinegar to the pot. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Heat soup to desired temperature and serve.