The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  “Well, yeah. I want to make the world a better place, if I can.” He smiled hopefully at her. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said, exasperated. “But, like, do you want to do something for yourself? Raise your standards a little bit?”

  He grinned. “You mean get a job.”

  “I guess so,” she admitted. “That’s part of it, for sure.”

  “So what you’re saying is that if I get a job, you’ll consider going out with me?” His eyes sparkled above his mischievous smirk.

  Bethany bit her lip. When he put it that way, she felt slightly ashamed at being so superficial. But when she compared him to Milo, who was always working so hard and focused on getting ahead, it was hard to deny that she found ambition appealing. If Ryan just had an iota of that drive, he’d be irresistible.

  Frankly, he’s pretty irresistible anyway. She chuckled in spite of herself.

  “Is that a yes, you’d go out with me?”

  “It’s a yes, I’d consider it,” she said. Chances were slim that Ryan would be able to find suitable employment any time soon. And if he did, who knew what could happen.

  The oven timer chimed, and Olive came bustling back into the room. “Don’t mean to interrupt,” she chirped, waving her hand to indicate that they should continue their conversation. She bent and checked the temperature on the chickens again, and then began unloading them from the ovens. Bethany rushed to help.

  “I’m taking Bethany on a date,” Ryan announced smugly.

  Bethany’s eyes went wide. “I said I’d think about it—if he gets a job.”

  “Is that so?” Olive raised her eyebrows. “Well, well. I don’t think that’s much of a hurdle, do you, Ryan?”

  “Nope.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the counter.

  Bethany narrowed her eyes. The two of them were up to something. She plunked a roasting pan full of chicken down on the stainless-steel island. “Why are you both so sure?”

  “This afternoon, Ben hired him to restore that old mural at the train station.”

  Bethany gasped and whirled to face Ryan. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He couldn’t hide his enjoyment at her shock. He grinned ear-to-ear, his broad shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “I guess I was just enjoying our conversation too much.”

  Bethany quailed inside. He was making fun of her. She realized how snobbish she must have sounded, demanding he find employment when he already had a job. She flushed. “I can’t even think about dating right now—not until after the cook-off, anyway. It’s just too much to deal with.”

  His face fell. “Oh. OK. Well, let me know when you have time.” He turned and stirred the simmering potatoes to make sure they weren’t sticking to the bottom of the enormous pot.

  Olive pursed her lips disapprovingly at Bethany.

  “What?” Bethany mouthed. Olive just shook her head, so Bethany pretended she hadn’t seen her expression. They worked shoulder-to-shoulder getting the food ready for service. Meals at the shelter were served family-style, so they made platters of chicken for each table. Bethany filled tureens with soup while Olive filled salad bowls with greens. Ryan poured off the water from the potatoes and set to mashing them with butter.

  “Good thing we have some muscle around here.” Olive winked at Bethany. Ryan played along, pretending to flex like a body builder. Bethany gave them a grudging smile.

  They’re just trying to make the silence less awkward. She figured she should do her part, too. “Almost ready!” she said cheerfully. She could hear guests being seated in the dining room, so she grabbed a couple of kitchen carts and rolled them over. They loaded them up and then a handful volunteers came to wheel them out and distribute the food.

  Bethany poured herself a cup of tea from the still-hot kettle. “Want some?” she asked Ryan.

  He jerked his head toward the dining room. “I’m gonna go sit down and eat.”

  She smiled tightly. A reminder that he lived there at the shelter was not exactly the note she wanted to end on, but there was nothing she could do about it. “Thanks for your help.”

  He nodded at her—a little sadly, she thought—and left.

  “Pretty sure I screwed that up,” Bethany said, clutching her mug with her shirt sleeves over her hands so they wouldn’t be scorched by the hot cup.

  “Is that such a bad thing?” Olive’s expression was sympathetic. “You seem pretty determined to turn him down one way or another. Maybe it’s for the best.”

  Bethany sipped her tea, thinking about what Olive had said. “It’s not that I’m turning him down, exactly. I really like him as a person. And he gets me in a way that”—she stopped herself before she compared him to Milo again—“other people don’t. But I’m just having a really hard time with his financial situation. I feel horribly shallow, but I also don’t see how our lives are compatible. ”

  Olive sighed. “It’s not his fault. We’re all born in certain places to certain parents, and that determines a lot of our path. But he has a good heart, Bethany, underneath his circumstances. I hope you keep an open mind.”

  Bethany stared into her mug, watching the few stray tea lives swirl in the hot liquid. “I’ll try. But I was telling the truth when I said I can’t think about it until after the cook-off. It’s just too much for me to hold in my brain when it’s also full of ideas and recipes.” And suspicions about which of my competitors might be cooking up some poison...

  Olive cracked a smile. “Well, chili-brain, you better get home, then. You’ve got some stiff competition. I know for a fact that Garrett is working his tail off on his entry!”

  “What’s his strategy?” Bethany asked.

  “I’m not telling you! You’re the enemy as far as he’s concerned. He’s dead-set on winning the whole thing.”

  Bethany giggled. “I’ll tell you mine first, and then you don’t have to worry about me stealing his ideas. I bought a bunch of dry chilies at the spice market today, and I’m going to use them to make a Texas-style chili—no beans or tomatoes or ground beef.”

  “Sounds delicious! Well, then, I’ll tell you—Garrett’s going the campfire route. You know, the kind everyone remembers from their Scout cookouts. Beans, tomatoes, ground beef, and a cornbread lid, all cooked in a cast-iron pot.” Olive smacked her lips.

  “Can’t beat that,” Bethany said, smiling. “If I have to lose to someone, I wouldn’t mind losing to him. I know you need the money for his treatment.”

  Olive sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t like to talk about this kind of stuff, but it’s looking like we’re going to have to sell the bakery.”

  “What?!” Bethany nearly dropped her mug on the floor.

  “Garrett’s not doing well, hon. His only hope at this point is these treatments that aren’t covered by our insurance—and we just can’t afford them. Garrett thinks the prize money from the cook-off is the answer, but I know it’s a long shot. He’s not a chef, and when he’s cooking against people like you and Kimmy, well...he doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Bethany felt like a giant hand was squeezing her heart without mercy. “Oh, Olive. I had no idea. Should I withdraw so he has a better shot? Maybe I could just take my name out of the running to win?”

  Olive shook her head. “No, no, don’t even think of doing that. Even if you’re not in the competition, there are three other professional chefs, and they aren’t going to bow out. Promise me that you won’t feel bad for doing your best, OK?”

  “I can’t help it, though—I won’t be able to celebrate if I win.”

  Olive set down her cup of tea and put her hands on Bethany’s shoulders. “Listen to me. Garrett’s basically playing the lottery, and I don’t want to ruin his fun. But I know in my heart that the Honor Roll is going to be what saves him. I’m prepared to let it go. You do your best, you hear me?” She looked her straight in the eye as she said the words, and a lump rose in Bethany’s throat.

  “I hear you,”
she whispered, a lump rising in her throat. It was impossible to imagine Newbridge without the Honor Roll—and without Olive and Garrett.

  Olive released her shoulders and smiled. “We can’t forget that this cook-off is about the train station. The rest is just gravy. Once the station is restored, everyone wins—our bakery will be worth more to a buyer, your soup kiosk will get more foot traffic, and who knows, maybe Ryan’s art career will take off.”

  “And Garrett will get treatment and get better,” Bethany reminded her.

  Olive took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Your lips to God’s ears.”

  Chapter 7

  SATURDAY EVENING

  KIMMY SQUEALED AND several beans from her cassoulet went flying as she waved her wooden spoon in the air. “I can’t believe he asked you out! That man is fine.”

  “Settle down.” Bethany giggled, silently agreeing with her. “I just said he asked. I didn’t say I agreed.”

  “Don’t tell me you said no. Please, baby Jesus, do not let Bethany tell this boy no.” Kimmy looked up to the ceiling, shaking her head.

  “I told him I’d think about it—if he got a job.” Bethany grimaced in anticipation of Kimmy’s response.

  Kimmy cracked up so hard she sat down on the kitchen floor for a minute to recover. “No. No, girl. That is not how you do it. You get him before he gets rich and famous. Then he’ll know you love him for him, and he’ll stick with you forever. If you wait until he makes it big, then he’ll always question whether you’re there for him or for the money.”

  Bethany reached down to help Kimmy up off the floor. “But can you imagine what my parents would say if I brought home a guy with no home and no job?! My mother would literally keel over and die right there.”

  Kimmy snorted as she got to her feet. “Put that boy in a suit, and she is not going to question anything. You can tell her he’s a stockbroker, and she will eat that right up.”

  Bethany giggled, thinking of her dad asking Ryan for stock tips. “Stop it, or you’re going to talk me into it.”

  “Do you see yourself more with him or with Milo? Long term, I mean.” Kimmy gave her cassoulet a stir and put the lid back on, then grabbed a bottle of sauvignon blanc and a corkscrew.

  Bethany perched on one of the bar stools and curled her toes around the bottom rung as she watched Kimmy open the wine. She propped her elbows on the counter and leaned her chin on her hands, thinking. “I don’t know. I’ve been agonizing over the same question. I’m not a big fan of dating more than one person at a time. I mean, who has time for that?”

  “I know I don’t.” Kimmy giggled and poured a glass of wine. “Want some?”

  “Nah. I’m afraid if I have a drink, I’ll crash out and burn my chili.” She scrutinized her chili pot from across the kitchen. It was simmering away, the lid releasing little blips of steam every now and then. That steak’s gonna be so tender...

  Kimmy dumped the rest of the bottle into her cassoulet and then plopped down on stool next to Bethany with her glass and sipped it. “OK. Now dish on these dudes.”

  Bethany shrugged. “They’re both so different that it’s hard to compare them. I guess Milo’s the all-American guy. Baseball and burgers and brewskis with the guys. I can totally see him settling down with a picket fence and two kids and a dog.”

  “Or a cat,” Kimmy said. “He seems to like cats.”

  Bethany grinned, thinking of how Milo carried treats in his backpack just for Caboose. “He does have a soft spot for them.”

  “And you don’t think Ryan is like that? He doesn’t want a traditional family?”

  Bethany shrugged. “We haven’t talked about that stuff. We talk about everything else, though—art and our creative purpose and different ways of seeing. He doesn’t seem to care about money at all, though, and I know picket fences aren’t cheap.”

  “He’s a free spirit. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. I mean, do you even want a picket fence and two kids?”

  “I guess I haven’t thought about it. I’ve been too busy getting Souperb off the ground. What about you? Do you want two kids, all that?”

  “Maybe one kid. See how it goes.” Kimmy grinned. “Charley wants like a dozen, though. She’s into big families.”

  “Twelve kids?!” Bethany coughed disbelievingly. “Suddenly a homeless guy isn’t sounding so bad.”

  Kimmy’s face grew serious. “His housing status is just temporary. You know that, right? It’s not who he is.”

  “I know.” Bethany sighed. “It’s just—well, one of the reasons I like Milo is that he’s so career-driven. I can tell he’s going to be successful at whatever he tries, because he’s so dedicated. And I just don’t see that same kind of drive in Ryan. He’s content to just hang out and help around the shelter all day. He doesn’t seem to want anything. Milo has a genuine desire to get ahead in life.”

  “All that ambition means that you’re not always his priority, though. I mean, he always seems more interested in you when you’re part of a story he’s writing. You hardly heard from him in the weeks between.”

  Bethany frowned. “You think he’s just using me for his stories?”

  “Oh, no!” Kimmy got up and rinsed out her glass in the sink. She turned around and leaned against the sink cabinet. “I just meant that in a relationship, he might not pay as much attention to you as he does when you’re the subject of his articles. That’s the down side of being with someone ambitious—ask me how I know!”

  Bethany grinned wryly. “I believe you. He asked me to help him out with his current article about the cook-off and Ned’s poisoning. Maybe if we spend more time together, we’ll get to know each other and something will click.”

  “Yeah, you should give it a try. Plus, you can make sure he’s not writing anything nasty about you or me or Olive! We don’t want people thinking our food isn’t safe.”

  “I don’t think he’d write that—it’s obvious we didn’t poison our food, because only one person at that meeting was affected. I don’t think Milo is like Robin Ricketts. He’s genuinely a nice person. Even Charley likes him now that they play softball together!”

  “Yeah, they are total buddies now.” Kimmy rolled her eyes. “Maybe the two of them should move in together. Seems like they’re part of a mutual admiration club.”

  “You mean instead of you and Charley living together? She told me she asked you and you turned her down. I was really surprised.” Although not 100 percent sorry, I have to admit.

  Kimmy nodded slowly, keeping her eyes trained on the floor. “She just needs to be more serious.”

  “Like, serious how? Less joking around?” Bethany asked. “To be honest, I’d be a little sad if she stopped. That’s kind of who she is—fun and playful.”

  Kimmy wrinkled her nose. “No, you’re right. I love that about her. She just needs to be more serious about the relationship. She wants to go on being girlfriends forever—just with less effort to see each other.”

  “I can understand where she’s coming from.” Bethany nodded. “We’re way across town from her place. But a relationship of convenience isn’t exactly romantic. Let’s say she is serious, starting today. How could she really prove that to you? When will you believe her?”

  “I don’t know—when she puts a ring on it?” Kimmy did a couple of Beyoncé moves in the middle of the kitchen floor. Bethany cracked up. Kimmy laughed, but then she got serious again, almost sad. “No, really. I just can’t see myself living with anyone that I don’t intend to marry. I want the whole deal: engagement, ring, wedding—all of it.”

  “You deserve it.” Bethany smiled to herself, imagining Charley’s face when she broke the news that Kimmy wanted a proposal. She’d be terrified, but she’d come around to the idea. Maybe she’d even invite Bethany to go ring-shopping. Picking out Kimmy’s engagement ring would be the highlight of Bethany’s year.

  But then Kimmy will move out. Bethany’s heart stilled. She knew that she and Kimmy wouldn’t be roommates fore
ver, but she’d always thought they’d be best friends forever. Now, it was clear that she’d have to settle for second-best friend.

  Better for us to separate for a happy reason instead of a fight or something, right? But Bethany’s chest still felt a little bit hollow. A little bit lonely.

  She shook her head. Don’t be stupid. If you feel lonely, you need to make new connections. Kimmy can’t be your everything forever—it’s not fair to her.

  The clock ticked over to midnight. Bethany looked up at Kimmy and smiled. “It’s officially the day of the cook-off. No more fraternizing with the enemy!”

  “Fine.” Kimmy crossed her arms and stuck her nose in the air. “You go to your corner of the kitchen and I’ll go to mine.”

  Bethany nodded firmly. “I’m glad we’re agreed. Friendship will resume when the cook-off is over.” She went to stir her chili and gave Kimmy a wicked grin over her shoulder. “The competition is getting spicy already!”

  Chapter 8

  SUNDAY MORNING

  THROUGH THE DOORWAY of the tent in Waterfront Park, Bethany could see the morning sun sparkling on the surface of the bay. Her chili was already simmering away on the burner, releasing its complexity into the surrounding air. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Mmm, smells like victory.

  She opened her eyes with a smile and scanned the tent. The other contestants seemed a bit more harried than she felt. None of them had completed their chili yet.

  Staying up all night—totally worth it.

  Monsieur Adrian carefully studied a checklist—written by Kimmy, of course—and added little containers of prepared ingredients to his large, cast-iron pot. He tossed in a handful of chopped herbs and then ran his finger under the collar of his chef’s coat and unbuttoned the top button.

  I’d be nervous, too, if I was trying to pass off someone else’s cooking as my own.

  Garrett seemed to be struggling with his gas burner. Bethany watched as he fussed with the control knob, and then checked the supply lines, all the while muttering under his breath. She gave her chili a stir and went over to see if she could help.