Mint Cookie Murder

by Leslie Langtry

  "Philby?" Riley asked as he started the car. "You named him after a Communist double agent who betrayed Great Britain? Why?"

  "Hey, it's better than Hitler," I grumbled. "Besides," I said as I gave the cat a look, "I don't really know whose side he's on now, do I?"

  Philby was sitting on the floor between the two seats. He looked up at me and gave me a loud meeeoooooow, then began to lick his front paw, which was all he could really reach.

  We pulled into the garage, and the three of us made our way back into the house. Riley set the beast down, and Philby trotted over to his litter box and went in. I thought about what Riley had said earlier about me checking his crap for clues. The hell I would.

  It was getting late. I supposed I should be thinking about dinner, but I was wondering how to do that with a guest in the house. I didn't really have anything besides junk food. And we still hadn't sorted out the fact that Riley mistakenly thought he was moving in.

  "Are you selling Girl Scout Cookies?" Riley's voice brought me back to reality.

  Damn. I'd forgotten. "Yes, and I'm putting you down for a dozen cases. Go ahead and pick the kind you want because that's what you're buying."

  He frowned as he looked at the forms. "Oh my God! Look at these ingredients! You can't expect me to eat these! Don't they make any that are all natural?"

  I shook my head. "Nope. And if you don't pick a flavor, I'll do it for you."

  "What the hell am I going to do with a dozen cases of chemicals?" Riley asked.

  "I have a few ideas…" I mumbled.

  Riley ignored me and started going through my cupboards, ending with the refrigerator. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

  "You have no food here," he said to me as he waited.

  "I have plenty of food here," I protested.

  He shook his head. "No, you have crap here. Chemical particles loosely held together by what used to be food. Tomorrow, we're going shopping. I can't live like this."

  "You aren't supposed to." I put my hands on my hips in an attempt to look threatening. "This is my house. You do not live here," I said, emphasizing each word independently so he'd know.

  Riley shook his head and turned away from me. In perfect Mandarin Chinese, he ordered a complete takeout dinner, sans the MSG. When he hung up, he smirked.

  "It'll be here in 20 minutes. Just enough time for me to unpack. I ordered three dinners."

  "Three?" I asked.

  He nodded. "Rex is walking over right now." And with that, he disappeared down the hallway. The bastard.

  I threw my hands in the air and stomped very maturely over to the door. I opened it as Rex was lifting his hand to knock. He kissed me then walked right in. This was getting out of hand. It was bad enough that Kelly came and went as she pleased, but to have these two men doing it? I was definitely going to have to wire the doorknob to shock, based on these two's biometrics. They'd learn soon enough.

  The Chinese was delivered, and the three of us settled in the kitchen, Riley and Rex on the stools at the breakfast bar, me standing on the other side. I should probably get a table with chairs.

  Rex filled Riley in on how he found Lenny on my doorstep after he'd called.

  "He'd escaped from the supermax in Colorado," Rex said as he pushed away his plate. "They aren't sure how. Coroner says he was shot somewhere else, drove here, and died of blood loss from three gunshot wounds. All through the back."

  "Have you made a statement to the press?" I asked. I was not looking forward to another glut of media on my front yard like I'd had a few months ago.

  "Tomorrow," Rex said. "We're not going to say where he was found, as a matter of national interest. That should keep the reporters away from you for a while."

  I started putting the leftover food in the fridge. "I just don't understand why he came here. I had nothing to do with Lenny. Riley had another agent on that case."

  Riley nodded. "It doesn't make sense. How would a prisoner in lockdown find you, anyway? We've managed to keep your cover intact even with the last situation. No one but the guys at the top in the agency know where you are. Or who you are."

  "Maybe there's a leak?" Rex mused. "The commissioner wants this wrapped up on our end. He doesn't want to tap into another event with Feds."

  I turned to Riley. "You should go to Colorado and check his visitor logs, phone calls, stuff like that." That would get him out of my house.

  "There's no leak at the top," Riley said. "I think there's still some connection to the problems we had here a few months ago. Someone who's after you is still alive."

  "Oh, come on!" I protested. "That's got to be over!"

  Riley gave me a look that said, Oh yeah? What about Midori?

  I gave him a look that said, Shut up!

  Rex looked from me to Riley. "Well, whatever's going on, I'd like you to come by the station and take this off our hands."

  "Wait…" I said as I realized something. "Did you know Riley was coming here?"

  Rex nodded. "He called me. That's why I'm here for dinner."

  Did everyone know what was going on except for me? Kelly and Riley were talking…Rex and Riley were talking…for all I knew, Philby was talking to someone who still wanted me dead, or worse.

  "Hey!" Rex said, reaching for the Girl Scout forms. "Are you selling cookies?"

  I glared at my boyfriend. "Yes. And you're buying two cases." That showed him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After Rex left and Riley went to bed, I thought about the last 24 hours.

  A couple of months ago my life was fairly normal—well, as normal as it could be for an outed CIA agent living under a new identity in the middle of Iowa. Born as Fionnaghuala Merrygold Wrath Czrygy, I'm now Merry Wrath. My life as a spy with the CIA came to an end when a White House official outed me due to my father's lack of support on Capitol Hill. I was "retired" by the agency with a nice settlement, and I moved back to my hometown of Who's There—a small city in Iowa—to help my best friend run a Girl Scout troop. And it worked out nicely…for a year.

  Then, dead terrorists started showing up on my doorstep. Three of them, to be exact. I was mobbed by the media, squeezed by the local police—which led me to meeting my boyfriend, Detective Rex Ferguson—and almost, sorta seduced by my former agency handler, Riley Andrews.

  The whole mess was wrapped up after an embarrassing shootout that unfortunately involved my second-grade Girl Scout troop, but everything ended okay—I guess. Things have been somewhat quiet since then. Until today.

  Now the whole mess was starting to come back. That sucked.

  I made sure to kiss Rex good-bye in front of Riley, who looked at me strangely before he went to bed. I didn't see him the next morning, as he left a note on the breakfast counter that said he was off to the police station. Good. Let the agency deal with this. It wasn't my problem. Well, except for the fact the guy died on my stoop. I met Kelly at the school for our Girl Scout meeting.

  "Cookies!" The girls yelled in unison as we passed out the samples the Council had given us. Kelly handed out juice boxes and cookie forms and started talking about how we would handle the sales.

  "Mrs. Wrath?" Kaitlin asked. She was one of the four Kaitlins. I wasn't sure which. All four of them had brown hair and blue eyes, and their last names inexplicably all began with the letter G.

  And all of them called me "Mrs.," no matter how hard I tried to correct them. I was at the point of considering electric shock negative reinforcement, but Kelly sort of frowned on that idea. I'd have to find something that wouldn't get me in trouble.

  "Yes?" I asked.

  "Do we get to eat all the cookies we sell?" Kaitlin the Second finished the question for Kaitlin. The other girls nodded as if they, too, were thinking the exact same thing.

  "Only if you buy them. You can only eat the cookies you buy. You can't eat the cookies other people buy from you."

  "Why?" Kaitlin Three asked.

  "Because they aren't yours," I answered. The fourth Kaitlin wa
s thankfully silent.

  "Do we get to keep the money?" Hannah asked. "I want to buy a puppy."

  I could see the logic in that. "No. The money goes to our troop so we can do fun things."

  "Like shoot guns in school again?" Emily's eyes sparkled, and the whole group of girls burst into a loud cheer.

  "No," I said. "And don't mention that to your parents. Please."

  Kelly spoke up. "Now ladies, when you sell, make sure you always have a parent with you. I don't want you going door-to-door alone."

  "Right!" Anna shouted. "We need backup. Always bring backup."

  "Shouldn't we pack heat?" Ava asked. "Would you recommend a 9 millimeter or a .38?"

  Personally, I'd go with a .45 Glock (although I was rather partial to the Colt Gold Cup), but Ava was new to this, so I cut her some slack. Kelly interrupted and told the girls they weren't to bring weapons of any kind. Then she glared at me, which I thought was a little unfair.

  "How about a sharpened screwdriver?" Betty asked.

  "Or a shiv made out of wood?" Lauren suggested.

  Apparently, recess chatter mirrored Orange Is the New Black. Kind of different than in my day when the biggest question was whether to play foursquare or jump rope.

  "No weapons of any kind!" Kelly screamed. This got their attention. The girls stared at us in shock. Now who was being a dick, I thought.

  Kelly decided this was a good time to hand out the coloring sheets that depicted happy, dancing cookies talking about sales. The girls immediately started adding handguns to the cookies' little stick arms. A couple of them had the cookies shooting each other and bleeding caramel on the floor.

  "You suck," Kelly whispered to me under her breath.

  "Yeah. I know," I admitted. Still, I was impressed with the level of violence that cookies could get up to. And the good thing about cookies killing each other was that the cleanup would be delicious.

  I collected the coloring sheets and crayons. No point in letting the girls take the evidence home. Although, I was pretty sure the girls would color these pictures on their own when they left.

  We played a couple of games that did not include weapons until the parents came by to pick up the girls. I handed each parent a permission form and cookie sales info telling them the sale started in two days.

  "How do you think they'll do?" I asked as we started straightening up the tables and chairs.

  "Sounds like they're going to form a brute squad who will intimidate their neighbors into buying using homemade shivs and zip guns."

  I smirked. "Well, they could really only get away with that once. What's the real objective?"

  Kelly shrugged. "We set a goal of 300 dollars in sales per girl. That should give us enough money to have some fun next year. But you and I should sell too. Just to make up for any slack."

  "Oh sure," I said. "You can take the forms to the hospital and sell there. What am I supposed to do?"

  "That's your problem," Kelly sniffed. That's when I realized she was pissed off at me.

  "Okay, what's your problem?" I asked.

  My best friend since elementary school looked at me for a moment. "It's nothing. I've just been working too hard."

  Liar. I could smell a lie a mile away. And right now, Kelly was lying to me. Something was wrong. And she wasn't going to tell me what it was. How unlike her.

  "Come on," I pressed. "I know when something's up with you."

  She shook her head. "I'm fine. Just tired. That's all." She snapped her troop binder shut, and her body language told me this conversation was over. Great.

  I made my way home wondering what could be bothering Kelly. Was she mad about my newest dead body? Was she worried about Rex and me? Was she jealous about Riley shacking up at my house? Wait, that couldn't be it. Could it?

  Kelly and Riley were definitely friendly—but I always kind of saw that as a weird united front to annoy me. Riley hadn't contacted me in weeks. But he was in touch with Kelly. Was Kelly interested in Riley?

  No. That couldn't be it. Kelly was happily married. Cheating on her husband was one of the unlikeliest things she could do. Right?

  I shook my head to clear it. No way I was even thinking of considering such a thing. It had to be something else. But what? There was Philby. Maybe she didn't like how I treated him? Maybe she wanted him but was afraid to ask?

  No. If Kelly wanted Philby—she'd just take him, knowing it would be with my blessing. That wasn't it. I thought about her actions during the scout meeting. Was she upset about something with the troop? I re-ran the meeting through my mind. It didn't seem plausible.

  Oh my God. Maybe she's sick! Maybe she has cancer or something! Was that possible? I mean, she's a nurse. My heart started pounding. I couldn't imagine life without Kelly. Sure, for several years I hadn't been in touch because I was a spy, but I always knew she was there for me. Kelly was my only link to this town. The troop and Rex, well, they were new. Kelly was it. If something happened to her, I'd…I'd…

  I shut my brain down. This kind of thinking was a bad idea. My best friend didn't have cancer. There was something else wrong. And unlikely as it was that she wasn't sharing it with me, I'd just have to wait until she was ready to confide. And if it didn't happen soon, I'd beat it out of her.

  Philby greeted me when I walked in the door to the kitchen. He sat right in front of me so I couldn't get past him. His eyes were on mine. I sat down on the floor. It was time he and I had a little chat.

  "What's up?" I said. I held out my hand.

  Philby sniffed my fingers delicately. Once again, he made eye contact and let out a loud and long meeoooooooooooow, and then he farted like a punctured basketball and walked away. On the plus side, it was kind of nice to be welcomed home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Riley wasn't home. Aaaarrrrgh! Now I was thinking of this as Riley's home. I had to get that man out of here. But in the meantime I should probably get some groceries. If I waited for him to go with me, it would be like him bossing me around again. I couldn't have that…my plate was full, what with Kelly probably dying of a rare and bizarre form of cancer and a Hitler cat look-alike plotting against me.

  I scooped up my keys and within minutes was at the grocery store. After snagging a cart, I started working through the aisles one by one. This was new. Usually I just made a beeline for the junk food areas. But I had some time, so I might as well go through every part of the store. It's always good to familiarize yourself with any place you frequent—find out where the exits and good places to hide are, figure out the best foods to use as weapons.

  That's not as funny as it sounds. I once saw a guy killed with a carrot. It was a very long and pointy carrot, so you can guess the endless applications. I stopped at the produce area first. Miles of green, red, yellow, and orange spread before me like a weirdly shaming, healthy rainbow.

  I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a salad now and then. But how did you make a salad? I'd eaten in five-star restaurants all over the world, and I'd had a salad or two when my cover insisted upon it. But they were already prepared. No one ever handed me a recipe. I never thought I'd need one.

  Well, how hard could it be? I knew what a salad looked like. First, I'd need something sort of leafy. No problem. There was a huge display of such stuff—featuring every shade of green imaginable. I read the labels: iceberg, spinach, baby butter, romaine, kale…the list went on and on. I grabbed the first one in front of me. It said romaine. That sounded like Romania, where I once had an assignment where I'd been undercover as a nun. I had to strangle a rival spy with my rosary beads. It's not as difficult as it sounds—the beads were strung with piano wire and the bad guy had a weak neck. I think I still have those beads somewhere.

  Okay, so now I had the leafy part of the salad. I'd probably need something else. You can't just have lettuce and dressing—even I knew that. Some reds and purples caught my eye. Maybe it's a color thing, and I should get what will look nice on all that green. Let's see: turnips, eggplant, rutabaga
s…

  Eggplant sounded horrible but was pretty, but I couldn't remember ever eating one in a salad. Instead I went with rutabagas because it had nice alliteration with the word romaine.

  Excellent. I had the leaves and a vegetable. I started pacing up and down the aisle. I picked up a clump of carrots because they were extra pointy and who knows—I might need to defend myself in the kitchen without ready access to knives someday. I wondered how long these veggies were good for. Riley would probably know that. Hey! Riley eats romaine and rutabagas! Clearly, alliteration was the key to making a salad.

  I got a little carried away, tossing rhubarb, raspberries, red peppers, and radishes in my cart. But I figured I now had the clue—you make a salad based on the first letter of the kind of leaf. Feeling triumphant, I made my way to the salad dressings.

  This part was easy! Ranch! I already had that! But just in case plain ranch wasn't foodie enough for Riley, I took one of every flavor, three cheese, bleu cheese, zesty…every kind they had.

  This was going better than I'd hoped. But just to be safe, I thought I'd better hit the health section. Then Riley would see what a great host I was—even if I was a host who didn't really want to be one.

  I knew granola was healthy, so I threw that in the cart. There was something strange called "soymilk" so I picked that up too. Somewhere I'd seen something about flaxseed being good for you, so I grabbed a big bag. I had no idea what you did with this stuff, but Riley probably would pour it directly in his mouth. It didn't look like you could do much else. I also tossed in some tofu, greek yogurt, and quinoa.

  Then I headed for my area and loaded up on Pizza Rolls, Bagel Bites, frozen pizza, ravioli that came in a can, and mac and cheese that came in a blue box. I added a case of pop and a small box of ginger tea and checked out.

  I arrived home triumphantly, greeted by Philby as a conquering hero. Or at least, that's what I thought he was thinking. It was hard to tell what an obese cat who looked like an evil dictator was thinking. In all honesty, he just sat and watched me unload groceries. But I decided that he adored my food gathering abilities and left it at that.