Black Beans & Vice

by J. B. Stanley

  Murphy took a step deeper into his office, her posture akin to that of a stalking panther. “So are you all living together in your sweet yellow house on Hickory Hill Lane?”

  There was no cynicism in her tone; she was genuinely interested in his current circumstances, and it gave him a juvenile satisfaction to leave her thirst for information unquenched. As though she hadn’t spoken, he came around to the front of his desk and indicated she should accompany him out of the library’s inner sanctum. “How can I help you today, Ms. Alistair?”

  “I’d like to interview you for a piece I’m writing on Ned Woodman,” she answered after studying him for a moment. Murphy knew that his formal tone meant he was through discussing his personal life.

  James shrugged in resignation. “I can’t help you there. I only knew him because he was a councilman and his name and photo appeared in the paper a few times.”

  “But you found his body!” Murphy protested. “Surely you must have some reaction. Do you think his death could be linked to the presence of the animal rights demonstrators at the festival?”

  It wouldn’t do for James to be misquoted regarding the demonstrators or the Wellness Village. “What do you mean? He had a heart attack. It’s not like he was murdered by one of the protestors.”

  “Maybe he was, though we’ll never know because his wife refused an autopsy,” Murphy replied breezily. “He’s had two previous surgeries for blocked arteries, so Donna Woodman didn’t seem too surprised by the diagnosis.”

  Studying her face and the glint in her eyes, James knew Murphy was chasing a tantalizing lead. “You don’t think his death was an accident?”

  “He was a councilman, James. When guys like him die young I always take a second look at their lives. According to my sources, Ned was acting odd the day he kicked the bucket.” Her mouth curved in a predatory grin. “Those two facts are enough to make me want to dig deeper. Once you tell me how he looked when you found him, I plan to investigate his recent political activities.”

  Apparently, Murphy’s success as a novelist hadn’t cooled her interest in dragging skeletons out of the townsfolk’s closets. “Sorry, I have no comment. I don’t want Ned’s family to read a detailed report of the man they loved lying facedown in a bathroom stall.”

  “Even though you’re not going to help me, I’d like to assure you that my article will be a tasteful memorial piece,” Murphy promised and then turned away. Over her shoulder she added, “Unless the councilman did something improper. If so, the community deserves to know the whole truth.”

  Again, he spotted that glimmer in her eye. It was a hunger, a lust for bringing secrets to light and for the briefest of moments, he wondered how far Murphy Alistair would go to get what she wanted. Was it possible that she’d moved back to Quincy’s Gap in order to reignite their relationship? Why was she so interested in his living arrangements? Was she capable of nailing a dead crow to Jane’s front door?

  A patron requiring assistance in the audio book section interrupted his brief but disturbing musings. After discussing the merits of the new Baldacci release versus the latest offerings from Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child, the thriller fan checked out both titles and left the library with a jaunty stride. James envied the man an afternoon spent in a deck chair, listening to a book with his eyes closed and a cold drink in his hand.

  “I see your old girlfriend’s back, Professor,” Scott whispered as both men completed organizational tasks behind the circulation desk. “She wouldn’t listen when I asked her to wait out here so I could warn you she was on the prowl.” The younger man ran his hands through his hair, his forehead creased in concern. “That’s the perfect phrase for her, Professor. Especially now. She’s got that look about her—like she’s caught the scent of wounded prey and is just waiting for the right opportunity to pounce.”

  Francis had appeared from the break room in time to hear his brother’s metaphor. “Are you the prey?” he asked James.

  “Lord, I hope not!” James answered glumly.

  _____

  When James left work at five, he stepped out beneath a blue sky filled with sunshine. Inhaling the scent of fresh-cut grass, he stretched out his arms as if he could embrace the beauty of the spring afternoon. Then and there, he decided he would not allow Murphy’s return to affect the good things happening in his life.

  In the meantime, he had important issues to consider, such as what to bring to Gillian’s house for dinner. It was her turn to host the Supper Club meeting and she’d sent a dictatorial email the day before announcing that dinner was to be comprised of all vegetarian dishes.

  “No pizza either!” She’d written. “If Eliot Henry can eat balanced meals at four-years-of-age, then the rest of us can come up with something creative and colorful to grace our plates. I’ll be preparing a sumptuous sushi platter.”

  James wasn’t overly fond of sushi. He liked a few of the identifiable selections, such as California or Philly rolls, but in general, he preferred not to subject his digestive tract to uncooked fish. Bennett had replied to Gillian’s email by saying there was an afternoon staff meeting at the post office so he’d make it to her place by six o’clock sharp. With no time to cook, he planned to show up with a bagged salad. Lucy had quickly volunteered to bring a sugar-free dessert from the town’s bakery, The Sweet Tooth. Like James, she was a bonafide carnivore and probably didn’t want to bear the responsibility for a vegetarian entrée. Luckily, Lindy offered to make a meatless moussaka casserole, leaving James with the responsibility of preparing what Gillian called, “a healthy side dish to bring finesse to the meal.”

  Wanting his contribution to echo the Greek food theme of Lindy’s dish, James checked out two cookbooks from the library. Sitting in Food Lion’s parking lot, he flipped through the books until he found a quick and easy recipe for Cucumber and Feta Salad.

  At home, he changed into shorts and a T-shirt, tuned his radio to the local country station, and sang along to Brad Paisley’s latest hit as he cut two cucumbers lengthwise and removed the seeds with a spoon. After chopping the cucumbers into cubes, he put them in a bowl, sprinkled them with salt and then added chopped green onions to the mixture. The next ingredient was a container of feta cheese—the brand that came packaged with a blend of black pepper, basil, oregano, garlic, and sun-dried tomato. Lastly, James drizzled lemon juice and olive oil onto the salad with panache while pretending that he was being filmed for The Food Network.

  “Delicious and nutritious!” he declared to an imaginary cameraman.

  Covering the bowl with plastic wrap, James grabbed the bouquet of sunflowers he’d purchased for the hostess and drove off. As he pulled up in front of the colorful Victorian, he saw Gillian and Bennett on the porch swing. Clearly, his friends hadn’t heard the sound of his truck engine. In fact, he didn’t think they were aware of much, being far too busy kissing. James smiled as he spotted Bennett’s bagged salad on the welcome mat. It seemed that the mailman had only arrived a few minutes before James, dumped his salad to the floor, and dragged his girlfriend over to the porch swing where he could greet her properly.

  James cleared his throat as he walked up the path and then quickly dropped to one knee and feigned the need to tie his shoe lace. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his friends leap apart.

  “The whole country knows you two are an item.” James stood up and grinned. “Bennett, you announced your feelings for Gillian on live television! A million people know your story. Why do you still try to keep your relationship under wraps?”

  Gillian’s face was nearly as red as her hair. Looping her arm through Bennett’s she said, “We don’t want our friendship with you and Lindy and Lucy to change. When the five of us are together, Bennett and I want to continue being our individual personas.”

  “So the moment we’re not around, you turn all lovey-dovey?” James teased.

  Bennett squirmed. “Look, my man. We live in a small town. Plenty of folks have a hard time acceptin’ a mixed-race co
uple. I figure it’s best not to shove it in their faces, you know?”

  He picked up his bagged salad and walked into the house, James following closely on his heels, surprised that Gillian hadn’t contradicted Bennett by declaring that the two of them could change the world by changing the point of view of a select few. He’d certainly heard her make similar pronouncements about dozens of other subjects.

  James placed his salad bowl on Gillian’s wooden farm table and studied his friends. “You can’t act as if nothing is different. You’re in love. To hell with what people think. Look how long it took you to find each other. Don’t let any more time get away from you!”

  Gillian paused in the act of setting the table. She put a hand on James’ forearm. “Are you sure you’re still talking about us? I can sense a struggle going on within you. Has your relationship with Jane entered into a new phase?”

  Flummoxed over the tables turning as well as the accuracy of Gillian’s statements, James was saved from having to answer by Lucy’s arrival. The moment she stepped into the kitchen, Gillian’s rotund tabby, the Dalai Lama, immediately stopped bathing his hindquarters and growled. Lucy looked down at the bristling feline and hissed in return. “You’ve smelled my dogs for years now. Get over yourself, cat.”

  “You should try to approach the Dalai with respect and gentleness,” Gillian suggested. “Animals know when a human dislikes them and it’s hard to change their minds once they view you as a hostile invader.”

  “Hrmph. Hostile invader. What am I, an eighties video game?” Lucy grunted.

  Lindy appeared in time to elbow her friend in the side. “You sound cranky, Deputy.” She smiled and then bent down to scratch the Dalai on the neck. “What’s up?”

  “I am not cranky, I’m nervous,” Lucy answered honestly. “Sullie starts tomorrow and we’re going to be working a shift together. I don’t want to act so smitten that I forget to put the car in park or put my flashlight in my holster instead of my firearm or—”

  “Leave the bakery box open so the Dalai can lick the topping off the pie?” Lindy asked and pointed at the counter. The tabby’s pink tongue was delicately scraping the whipped cream from the surface of the pie, his feline mouth curved into a mischievous smirk.

  “Hey! I thought you were gettin’ somethin’ we could eat without cheatin’!” Bennett protested as Lucy chased the Dalai off the counter.

  Lindy slid her casserole into the oven and set the temperature. “That’s right, chica! We’re supposed to be giving up sugar.” She pointed a finger at Lucy. “This guy is already making you crazy!”

  Lucy scowled. “I bought one of The Sweet Tooth’s new sugar-free desserts. This is a sugarless key lime pie. I figured a fruit pie would tie in nicely with our vegetarian theme.”

  James was delighted to hear about the bakery’s new offerings. Though part of him felt the need to abstain from ingesting sugar whenever possible, the other part argued that if guilt-free treats were available, why shouldn’t he enjoy them?

  Gillian wasn’t pleased. “Perhaps it’s a sign that the Dalai tainted the pie. Without real sugar, it may be full of chemicals. Why don’t we have a naturally sweet, organically grown dessert? I have some raspberries and boysenberries in the fridge.”

  Shrugging, Lucy settled down at the table. “Whatever you all think is best. I can always take the pie to the station tomorrow. I’ll cut off the piece your cat licked and give it to Donovan!”

  The five friends laughed at this splendid idea.

  “I’ve got some news,” Lindy said as she poured iced tea for the ladies and distributed bottles of cold beer to James and Bennett. “I don’t have to fly down to Mexico to meet Luis’ mama. Do you know why?” She widened her eyes but didn’t give anyone a chance to guess. “Because she’s coming here!”

  Bennett snorted. “What for? To interview you for the position of future daughter-in-law? See what kind of cook and housekeeper you are?”

  Lindy looked miserable. “Pretty much. She probably wants to get an eyeful of my breeding hips too.”

  “Don’t worry, Lindy. We’ll come over and help you prep for the visit,” Lucy assured her. “When does she arrive?”

  “Sunday afternoon. And thank you, Lucy, but I can hardly ask my dearest friends to spend a precious Saturday cleaning my toilets.” Lindy put on a brave smile, but they could all see the anxiety in her eyes.

  James knew that Lindy desperately wanted to win the approval of Luis’ mother, but hoped Luis would propose regardless of what his dear mama thought of Lindy’s potential as a homemaker.

  Ruminating over parental blessings caused James to wonder if Jackson would be able to accept Jane into their family for a second time. His father tended to hold grudges for eons and though he was polite to Jane (probably because Milla forced him to be) he didn’t speak to her unless it was necessary.

  Relationships are never easy, he thought. Aloud, he said, “If we have to scrub your toilets and dust the blades of your ceiling fans to impress this woman we will. But she’ll see what a treasure you are, Lindy, and it won’t matter if you serve her fried Alpo, because she is going to love you.”

  Lindy sniffed back grateful tears. “Thank you, James. And I refuse to allow you to take part in the cleaning brigade. You need to spend time with your precious Eliot. I’m sure Bennett looks very sexy in rubber gloves and an apron!”

  Bennett spluttered as his friends laughed.

  The oven clock beeped and Gillian retrieved the moussaka and served steaming spoonfuls of it to the group. When it was cool enough to eat, they all did so hungrily, praising Lindy for her ingenuity in replacing the traditional ground beef used in the dish with diced zucchini. The friends then compared notes on their hypnotherapy sessions and rehashed the events at the food festival. Naturally, this subject led to a discourse on Ned Woodman’s death.

  “Rumor has it Ned may have been a bit crooked,” Lucy stated and then paused. She always enjoyed having insider information and her friends could see that she was dying to tell them the latest bit of department gossip.

  While everyone else waited patiently for her to continue, James said, “Let me guess. He was skimming from the town treasury.”

  Lucy trained a pair of startled cornflower blue eyes on him. “How’d you know?”

  Now it was James’ turn to be surprised. “I was just joking. Honestly!”

  “Well, you’re right on target. Not all of the evidence has been gathered yet, but it looks as though Mr. Woodman overcharged the town for his landscaping services.”

  “Is that really serious?” Gillian sounded doubtful. “Gas prices are so high these days. Maybe he needed to charge more because of increased costs?”

  Lucy finished chewing a mouthful of moussaka before answering. “We’re not talking about the kind of money to buy oil for the weed whackers or a few tanks of lawn mower gas, Gillian. He took a lot of money! Not only was he billing three times the actual for his services, but apparently, whenever it was his turn to pay the town’s bills, he’d pay himself for work his company didn’t even perform!”

  “What’s the bottom line?” Bennett asked.

  “I can’t say anything officially,” Lucy warned. “It’s not my investigation, but we’re talking somewhere in the neighborhood of thirty thousand dollars. And his wife claims to know nothing about it.”

  “Whoa! Thirty grand for cutting lawns and trimmin’ a few bushes!” Bennett shook his fork in indignation. “I am in the wrong line of work!”

  The friends ate silently for a moment. James became aware that he was picking at his entrée like a child forced to eat distasteful vegetables. The moussaka tasted fine, but he didn’t care for the texture. The entire dish felt like mush in his mouth. Even chewing the crisp cucumbers of his own salad didn’t quite match the satisfaction of grinding a nice piece of steak between his molars.

  Don’t be so close-minded! he chided himself, and forced down another bite of Lindy’s dish.

  “Wonder what he did with th
at extra money?” Lindy ruminated quietly. “Ned, I mean. If his wife didn’t know, where’d he hide it? In a safety deposit box?”

  “In his girlfriend’s house?” Bennett quipped.

  The supper club members exchanged inquisitive glances.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gillian whispered theatrically and fixed her gaze on Lucy.

  Lucy wiped her mouth with her napkin, folded her hands on the table, and nodded. “That someone else might know the location of Ned’s money?”

  “And has already helped themselves to it!” Lindy cried.

  “Time out, folks.” James rose and returned to the table with a bakery box from The Sweet Tooth. “The money could be buried under a tree for all we know, but if we’re going to bat around wild theories for the rest of the evening, then we’re going to need this pie after all.”

  By the time the weekend rolled around, Murphy had successfully ferreted out every detail involving Ned Woodman’s transgressions. The deceased councilman had overcharged the town for his services for years, but not by enough to draw attention. It was only within the last few months he’d turned truly greedy.

  According to Murphy’s explanation in The Star, council members took turns paying the town’s bills. This rotation was put in place to protect the town’s coffers, but it was only effective when each council member kept a close eye on the books. Because there hadn’t been a penny unaccounted for in years, the council members didn’t go over the numbers with a fine-tooth comb. Unfortunately, Ned took advantage of his trusting colleagues and during his bill-paying rotation made large payments to his own company. The bills included exorbitant fees for simple services such as pruning and laying mulch.

  Eventually, someone else on the council would have noticed the depletion of town funds, so it was “as though Woodman was attempting to quickly stockpile ready cash,” Murphy wrote. “His widow, Donna Woodman, claims to have no knowledge of her husband’s illicit activities. Mrs. Woodman said there was no trace of the stolen money in their joint bank account and added that her husband had made no big-ticket purchases. Authorities are currently investigating Mr. Woodman’s finances, but it appears that the councilman cashed a series of town checks over a twelve-week period. With no clues as to the whereabouts of the stolen money, the former councilman may have taken the cash and his reasons for embezzling from his friends and neighbors to the grave.”