Expiration Date

by Devon Delaney

  After fifty minutes, Sherry lay spent on her mat.

  “We better get up before we can’t,” said Amber.

  “You know something?” Sherry sat up slowly. “Yoga is a metaphor for where I am right now.”

  “Really?” Amber wiped her brow with her hand towel.

  “It challenges you to be flexible, strong, and relaxed, like the sponge cake I use for a jelly-roll cake, when all I you can think of is giving up. It’s given me an idea.” Sherry gathered her wet mat, soaked towels, and empty water bottles before she headed toward the car.

  * * *

  “What exactly are you searching for?” Amber peered past Sherry as she navigated different botany websites.

  “Just trying to identify a plant I saw recently. It had these wonderful green and ivory leaves.” The next strike of the “Enter” key produced a vivid photograph of a potted plant. “This could be it.”

  A knock at the door prevented Sherry from reading the plant’s full description. She lowered the screen and pushed her laptop to the back of the kitchen table.

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “Not that I can think of.”

  As the women made their way to the front door, Chutney, already there, was wagging his tail as if he were using it to fan a scalding bowl of soup.

  “Must be someone Chutney likes.” Sherry picked up her pace. Through the sidelights she spotted the two familiar figures holding out their badges. “What would the day be like if we didn’t get a visit from these two?” She opened the door without hesitation.

  “Hello, Ms. Frazzelle, Ms. Sherman. This will just take a minute.”

  The detectives remained outside the open door. Sherry made no effort to draw them in.

  “I came to collect Mr. Stiles’ photos. I need them back sooner than I thought. I assume you’ve had a chance to look them over.” Detective Bease removed his hat and sunglasses.

  Sherry didn’t answer. She was concerned her yoga outfit might be wafting an unpleasant odor of dry sweat. She picked up the hem of her shirt and aired herself out, hoping to redirect the scent. Sherry realized her actions may have made the smell more prominent.

  Detective Bease’s eyebrows shot up, and he blinked as if his eyes were splashed with vinegar. “I also have copies of Patti Mellit’s article about the cooking demonstration you were both in this morning. I printed it off the newspaper’s website.”

  “She gets her job done in a hurry.” Sherry crossed her arms to mask the emerging goose bumps. “What did she say about me, I wonder?”

  “It was mostly geared toward introducing the Au Natural Market and OrgaNicks products to people who may be unfamiliar with either or both. It was pretty straightforward. Very boring, in my opinion. She didn’t even mention the little problem you had with your food. Nice of her. She could have sensationalized the whole thing.”

  “Glad she didn’t. That wouldn’t have gone over well with Mr. Andime. They have enough tension between them from what I’ve witnessed.” Sherry put her hand up to stop the conversation in its tracks. “Stay right here and I’ll get the photos.” She left Amber at the door and trotted to the living room, where she picked up the shoebox of photos.

  “Got the photos right here.” Sherry made no attempt to deliver the box to the detectives.

  “I also wanted to pass along a copy of Ms. Mellit’s review of Chef Brock Lee’s Splayd and Spork Restaurant.” Detective Bease nudged Detective Diamond, who handed the ladies two articles. “The review had a generally moderate tone about it. Ms. Mellit was forthright with her criticism, which was very minimal. Her praise was well thought out, her suggestions for improvement were exacting, and what she had to say about Chef Lee as owner and head chef should please him.”

  “I will read it as soon as possible.” Sherry chose her words as if they were an abundance of red pepper flakes being added to a delicate cream sauce. “Amber and I had mixed reviews of the place. I’m a little surprised you say she was so nice. I think most of her readership enjoys it when she picks places apart. She gives her readers the feeling she’s standing up for our rights to get the highest quality for our dollar when we pay to eat out. Her tough words don’t win her any friends in the restaurant community, I’m sure, but it sounds like Chef Lee has won her over.”

  “One more thing. I met with Jamie Sox, the missing participant from yesterday’s demo.” Detective Bease leaned one arm on the doorframe. “He lives just over the New York State border, not too far from here.”

  The words, “lives not too far from here,” reverberated in Sherry’s ears. Close enough to steal my towel, then return it to my house? Close enough to drop off a tainted apron? Close enough to mess with my ingredients at Au Natural? Crazy enough to have had a run-in with a particular chef judge and taint my recipe with poison?

  “I can’t go in to detail, but he was at home, organizing his pencil collection, by color, size, eraser material, etcetera,” Detective Bease reported. “It was mind-blowing how many pencils he has. As a pen collector I appreciate a serious collector when I see one. You know he’s an actuary, right?”

  “I understand that.” Sherry handed the box of photos to Detective Diamond. She kept one in her hand. “I didn’t think much about him until I found out he broke a contest rule when his recipe ingredients were handled by an unapproved third party. All caught on camera. Patti Mellit witnessed it. Sure enough, in this photo right here it shows Nick Andime’s hand extending out toward Jamie Sox. At first glance, it’s an innocent handshake between the two, but if you inspect the scene very closely, Jamie is definitely being handed something. See how the light is reflected off the plastic baggie? Then, right after, Jamie was called out by Chef Birns and Patti. He had real reason to be angry at Chef Birns.”

  “Interesting,” said Detective Diamond.

  “So Jamie was crossed by Chef Birns,” Sherry stated. “The chef also crossed Kenny Dewitt when he told him he was ineligible for a contest prize. But where’s the proof either of those two killed Chef Birns? Nowhere, because there isn’t any.”

  “You realize what you’re saying, Ms. Frazzelle?” Detective Diamond lifted his sunglasses to reveal his ocean blue eyes. “If you take the others you mention out of the equation, it puts you solely in the forefront of the suspect list. So, I wouldn’t be so hasty making statements on conjecture.”

  A phone vibrated. Detective Bease stepped off the front porch to take the call.

  “Sherry, what are you doing?” whispered Amber. “Why are you reinforcing their idea you might be guilty?”

  “It’s a risk, but I’m willing to take it. I feel like they’re spinning their wheels and that’s even worse for me in the long run.”

  Detective Bease returned, pulled his partner aside, and whispered loud enough for the ladies to hear. “Andime called. It seems he would like to have Brynne Stark investigated by our department because she is, in his words ‘harassing him with nonstop threats.’ He also thought I should know he’s been dating both Brynne Stark and Olivia Baker over the last few months, in case the issue should come up in the investigation. He wanted to be the one to tell us in case Ms. Stark blurted it out. Let’s go.” Detective Bease faced Sherry. “Ms. Frazzelle, heed my warning and stay away from any cook-off-related people or activity. It’s for your safety. Do you understand me clearly?” He enunciated each syllable in a firm monotone. “There’s a farmers’ market fifteen minutes west of here in a town called Eastport. Do you know when it closes?”

  “Of course, six p.m.,” answered Sherry. “Getting something for dinner?”

  Detective Bease put his hat and sunglasses back on. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he mumbled.

  Detective Diamond followed close behind his partner, cradling the box of photos. Sherry closed the door behind the detectives and collapsed on to the couch in the living room. Amber sat across the room in the recliner, phone in hand.

  “I’m going to call OrgaNick’s and check on my apron.” Amber punched the keys on her phone. />
  “Hello, I was a contestant at the OrgaNicks Cook-Off, and I wonder if you knew how I can get my contest apron sent to my home address. I heard they were being held for us. I see, thank you.” Amber put down her phone. “The word is all of them were thrown out right after the contest because it was thought no one wanted them.”

  “Strange,” said Sherry. “Wonder how Brynne managed to salvage one for me? I’d be happy to give it to you when, or if, it arrives.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Sherry studied her friend’s face for a moment. “You know, I was thinking. We could use some salad items for your farewell dinner and what better place than a farmers’ market for freshness and quality?”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that,” said Amber. “The detectives aren’t going to be happy if they see us there.”

  “Hey, we’re just going to get ingredients for an early dinner before you’re off to the train station.”

  Chapter 16

  Sherry and Amber discussed which salad to make for dinner. The consensus was to find some tender, sweet lettuces to serve as the foundation for a goat cheese, cranberry, pistachio salad with honey-cider vinaigrette. Sherry also mentioned her love of adding grated horseradish and mustard to her salad dressings. She liked the way they lent a pop of heat to the dressing but only enough to balance any sweet elements in the salad, like dried cranberries.

  Sherry was also on the hunt for artisan bread. Last time she went to the outdoor farmers’ market, she brought home a round country loaf studded with olives. She grilled it, then kissed it with her best olive oil. It was crusty, chewy perfection. Later, she baked the crusty end pieces for croutons for one of her salads.

  When they arrived at the parking lot, Sherry spotted Detective Bease’s car. She knew better than to alert Amber to her sighting. The ladies began shopping in earnest at the very first vendor they came to. Homemade, wheat-free, organic, non-GMO dog treats were the featured items.

  “This is a bit pricey for me.” In an attempt to exercise financial restraint, Sherry’s budgeting trick was to only bring a predetermined amount of cash with her. “I’d get a bag of ‘Simply Pawfect Cookies’ for Chutney in a snap if they weren’t twelve dollars for twelve treats.” Sherry moved on toward the next vendor.

  “I’ll meet you there in a minute,” Amber called out.

  “You don’t even have a dog. But okay, meet me next door.”

  Sherry strolled a few steps to the produce vendor. She studied the selection of greens as she waited for Amber to join her.

  “I just passed Brynne,” Amber whispered, when she found Sherry stroking a tomato.

  A few feet away, in the open area between the sales stalls, Brynne Stark was holding a tray featuring various specimens of local goat cheese. Her alpine green dirndl was hard to ignore among the pants and cardigans most of the cliental wore. As potential customers passed, Brynne pivoted to lure them in. It gave Sherry and Amber the chance to sneak around to the next vendor without being detected.

  “I bet she’s the one the detectives are coming to see,” said Sherry.

  “We can’t let them see us here.” Amber bumped into a set of toddler twins as she shimmied to the side. “You promised you’d lay low.”

  “This isn’t a cook-off or a cook-off-related activity, and I had no idea Brynne would be here. They can’t restrict me from getting food for dinner, can they?” Sherry shrugged and ducked behind the sign decorated with vegetables from the Fun E Farm.

  “We’ve struck gold.” Sherry was close to euphoria when she studied the variety of lettuces the farm offered. There were multiple shades of green featured, along with reds and even browns. Some lettuce seemed destined to hold up better if dressed with lighter vinaigrettes, while others could bear heavier dressings, such as Blue Cheese Ranch, and not wilt under the weight.

  “Aren’t these gorgeous?” Sherry held up a frilly leafed lettuce and a smaller red lettuce.

  “Yep, gorgeous,” a deep voice echoed. “What a coincidence finding you two familiar ladies here.”

  “You startled me!” Sherry jumped back when she saw the two detectives within arm’s length. “We just thought your idea of coming down here was so good, we hopped in the car, and here we are.”

  “I’m going to take it at face value you two are not here for any other reason than to shop,” Detective Bease said.

  Sherry’s cheeks flashed hotter than sriracha sauce.

  “Are you buying those or just taking them out for a test drive?” The Fun E farmer circled his booth and approached Sherry.

  “Sorry, here you go.” Sherry handed the overalls-clad man eleven dollars to cover the cost of the produce she was handling.

  Detective Bease rumbled from his throat and walked over to Brynne where she was busy presenting her goods to the approaching duo. Sherry and Amber sidestepped their way to the edge of the Fun E Farm’s booth closet to Brynne.

  “What a surprise! Detective Bease,” Brynne gasped.

  “We just need a moment of your time, Ms. Stark,” Detective Bease said.

  “I assume if you’re still asking questions, the investigation of the murder of Chef Birns hasn’t concluded?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Would either of you like a sample of herb-rubbed goat cheese or possibly a dollop of goat cheese, pesto, and fig spread on a cracker? How about some goat cheese with locally crafted chorizo sausage? The cheese is lovingly made from the freshest goat’s milk from free-range grass-fed goats located only twenty minutes from here at Roamin’ Empire Farms. It’s as local as local goats, I mean gets.”

  Before the detectives could respond, Sherry and Amber stepped forward for cheese samples.

  “Yes, please, we’d love to try some,” Sherry said.

  “Ms. Stark,” Bease began, ignoring the interruption. “We realize you’re working, but if you wouldn’t mind answering a few questions, we can make this quick.” Bease shifted his position and shot Sherry a heated glare, the intensity of which could have melted Rocky Road ice cream instantly.

  As the detective spoke, Brynne thrust her platter of samples at anyone who was in close proximity. Her abundant colorful hair ribbons trailed across the cheese as she whirled about in an effort to entice potential customers. The recipients always smiled and gave a satisfied “yum, thanks” or “where can I buy this” inquiry after a nibble. Brynne handed out a tri-fold informative pamphlet on the earthy cheese, the happy goats, and the idyllic farm where the animals were raised. Sherry admired how masterful Brynne was at coordinating the responses to Detective Bease’s questions while performing her job.

  “When was the last time you saw or conversed with Nick Andime from the OrgaNicks Company?”

  “Um, we used to talk a lot, don’tcha know.” Brynne’s Midwest twang wrapped around her words like the golden dough that envelope Pigs in a Blanket. “Mr. Andime, I mean, Nick, helped me get the job as hostess at the recent cook-off. I’m very grateful for his generosity and belief in me. But I’m not sure why he continually calls me, leaves voice mails, sends texts, and sends e-mails. He doesn’t really say much. Sometimes it’s just a garbled grunt or moan.”

  Brynne greeted a small clan who expressed interest in her product. “Please take a brochure, which will provide you with all the facts about our wonderful cheese. Goat cheese can be enjoyed by even the most lactose intolerant individuals because goat’s milk’s makeup is very similar to human’s.”

  Without losing a beat, Brynne turned her focus back to Detective Bease. “I don’t want to start any trouble with the man. He’s just feeling a bit of stress with his new job.” Brynne’s smile brightened. “Nick mentioned he might put me in a commercial for OrgaNicks. It would be a wonderful advancement in my career, but until the ink is dry on the contract, I need to make a living. That’s why I do what I do. Plus, I don’t have a lot of time to devote to listening to him talk about his on-again, off-again, relationship with Olivia Baker. It’s gotten to the point where
I’m not replying unless it’s work related, and I know he’s angry with me. So to answer your question, I have only spoken directly to Mr. Nick Andime once, maybe twice, since the cook-off.”

  “I see, sparse communication.” Detective Bease scribbled on his notepad with the New England Patriot’s logo pen he’d pulled from his pocket. “How is your relationship with Chef Olivia Baker?”

  Sherry and Amber couldn’t restrain themselves from having another sample. Detective Diamond joined them as well.

  “I’m so glad you enjoy our goat cheese.” Brynne did a half dip, half curtsy.

  “I really need to buy some,” said Amber.

  “If it’s your first purchase of goat cheese, we recommend the simple log form.” Brynne tipped her head toward the brochures on her tray. “In the pamphlet we’ve supplied recipe suggestions, all the ingredients of which can either be found here at the farmers’ market or at your local grocery store.” Brynne paused. “Hey, I’m talking to two of the best cooks in the country. You should be giving me advice on how to use the product.”

  “Thank you, Brynne. I wasn’t sure you’d remember us.” Sherry smiled and pointed to the cheese. “My dad is coming over for dinner in two days, so I think I’ll surprise him with some of your delicious herb goat cheese. He loves to spread it on crackers with a bit of mango chutney.”

  “What a delicious idea!” Brynne was all smiles when she turned her attention back to Detective Bease, who had begun tapping his pen on his notepad.

  “I don’t have any problem with Olivia Baker,” said Brynne. “She seems to be in a tough spot at the moment, losing her job and all. I wish her well. I saw her fairly often for a while because we always seemed to work the same venues. I was often the event hostess when she catered it. She didn’t hide the fact she thought catering was well beneath her talent level. I’m guessing her snobbish attitude may have led to fewer and fewer jobs. I’m sure things will turn around for her. In a weird way, we root for each other’s success.