Expiration Date

by Devon Delaney

  “This neighborhood is so safe. I’m shocked.” Charlie shook his head.

  “I’m not really clear on any more details.” Sherry rubbed her forehead. “Somehow I was flung off the porch. Right now things are a little fuzzy. I had to give the police as much information as I could at the hospital, but there wasn’t much to go on. No one broke into the house. There were no fingerprints on me, and I didn’t see any face. I remember a dark SUV parked in front of the house. Didn’t even occur to me to get the plate numbers. Whoever shoved me off the porch screamed something, but it was so fast. Definitely a man’s voice and a man’s strength in the push. I can’t recall much else.”

  Charlie touched her shoulder with a light hand.

  “My shoulder will be okay. Only a slight separation, and this lump on my head will shrink soon enough, so no worries.” Sherry attempted a smile, but her mouth sagged instead.

  “Listen, if it’s okay, I’ll stay here for a few days until you’re up and mobile. I owe you that much.” Charlie’s words swept across Sherry’s head like a smoky grease fire, and her breathing slowed. “You just take it easy for now. I’m here to serve. Just call me Nurse Frazzelle.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine.” Sherry attempted to sit up. Halfway up, she let out a hair-curling groan and slunk back down. “Well, maybe one or two days. What about Chutney? We need to call every animal rescue center around here. It’s my fault he’s gone. He’ll never survive out in the wilds of suburbia. He can’t hear or see well!”

  “Your dad and I have called all the vets, shelters, and animal clinics we could think of,” said Charlie. “Nothing yet, but it’s only been half a day.”

  Sherry frowned and closed her eyes. A tear dripped from the corner of her eye. “It’s all my fault.”

  The next morning, Charlie barged through the patio door as Sherry lay on the sofa.

  “Charlie’s back, Marla. I better go. Thanks again for calling, I’ll be fine in a few days. No need to come. Love ya.” Sherry placed the phone down next to her pillow.

  “Jackpot in the backyard. Chutney’s collar, leash and a chunk of cloth that looks like material a man’s blazer would be made from, but no dog.” Charlie displayed the items in his outstretched hands for Sherry to see. “They were just inside your garden.”

  Sherry stared at Charlie, not daring to understand the implications of his find.

  “I’m sorry.” Charlie softened his tone and continued. “Fragments of that old pull cord you asked me to replace were wedged in the door lock. The gate couldn’t shut properly, and most of your plants were clear-cut. They didn’t stand a chance when whatever animal it was got in and had free rein of the place. I should have fixed that stupid cord when you asked me. On the other hand, if Chutney was locked in your garden or chased in by someone, that broken cord gave him the chance to escape.”

  The murder, the accusations, the assault, the lost family member, and now the garden devastation. Sherry shut her eyes tight and made a silent vow.

  “Where’s my key?” Sherry questioned as she fished in her purse that was the size of a tall kitchen garbage bag. She used her other arm to control Chutney as he tried to wriggle free from her grasp.

  As hard as she tried, she couldn’t feel the cold ridges of the metal key because her purse kept expanding in size. The next thing she knew, Chutney leapt from her arms and disappeared into what was now a bottomless purse.

  “Chutney! No!” Sherry cried.

  After she called him, Chutney peeked his head out of her purse with a mouthful of food. He began vomiting seafood tomato sauce. A second later, he was coughing, and his eyes were rolling back into his head.

  “Chutney, breathe!” Sherry pleaded, but it was too late.

  The dog collapsed back into the huge purse and disappeared.

  “Mind your own business! Mind your own business,” a commanding voice chanted. That sounded like Detective Bease.

  Sherry recognized she was at the entrance of the Hillsboro High School auditorium. The school was nearly unrecognizable though, as the structure was in a serious state of neglect and enveloped by a colossal overgrown plant. The next thing Sherry knew, a severe gust of wind blew in and knocked her over. She began a lengthy slow-motion free fall. She knew she was falling to her death but had the presence of mind to strike a pose because Mac Stiles was photographing her.

  “What happened?” Charlie came bounding across the room. Sherry’s coffee mug lay shattered on the floor next to the sofa. “Are you all right?”

  “I had a nightmare,” Sherry mumbled. She blinked a few times. “My arm jerked up because I was falling.”

  “I’ll take care of it. Where’s the dustpan? By the way, no calls about Chutney yet, but someone will call soon, I know it.”

  “Wait, Charlie, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “What would you do if everyone around you saw something one way but you saw it dramatically different? Would you throw in the towel and join the crowd or would you speak up in your tiny minority voice?”

  “First of all, I’m a lawyer. We’re paid to see things differently. Second of all, you’re not asking because you want my opinion. You know the answer.” Charlie laughed. “Sherry, you’re the easiest person in the world for me to read. I think you know something, something very important, and you need to speak up.” Charlie went to the kitchen to find the dustpan.

  “He’s so aggravating.” The phone on the side table sang out. “Charlie, the phone’s ringing, can you help me pick it up?” After listening for a reply and receiving none, she rolled over to find her phone. She used her less-painful arm to feel for the device. She lifted it up with a groan. When she saw the caller, identified as “blocked,” she prepared herself for a scolding.

  “Bease here. Got a call from the police saying you were assaulted at your home. Do you have anything to add to the statement you gave them?”

  Sherry closed her eyes. “Why did they call you?”

  “I’ll ask the questions.” The detective’s insistence stung Sherry’s ears.

  “Fine. That’s right, I was. I told the police all the particulars I could remember except one thing. I remember now what the guy shouted as he was tossing me like a bag of beans into the bushes. It was ‘mind your own business. ’” Sherry cringed when Detective Bease sighed.

  “Sherry, did you call me?” Charlie trotted into the room.

  “You okay?” Detective Bease asked. “Whose voice is that?”

  “My husband, ex-husband—I mean my almost ex-husband—is here taking care of me.” Sherry lowered the phone and put her hand across its speaker. “I did, Charlie, I was having trouble reaching my phone, but I did it.” Charlie lifted the edges of his mouth, turned, and left the room.

  “Lucky you,” Bease said. “Be well.” The phone call ended.

  Sherry thought she heard a parting hint of sarcasm in the detective’s voice.

  Sherry held the phone in front of her face and stared at the screen. She tapped it and found the number Bease had provided her with.

  “Bease here,” the detective answered.

  “Detective Bease?” Sherry inquired.

  “On the line,” he stated. “You called me, why are you so surprised I would answer.”

  “Sorry, my brain’s a little dull right now. This is Sherry Frazzelle, again.” She shifted her position to relieve a throbbing that had developed.

  “I know. I can see the caller ID. I’m listening.”

  Sherry could hear her heartbeat in her ears. “I was thinking you should check out something while you’re meeting with Mr. Andime, if you’re in his office over at the OrgaNicks facility.”

  “I don’t think I mentioned to you I was meeting him.” Detective Bease spoke deliberately, letting the individual words stand on their own merit. “Anyway, what do you think I should check out?”

  “I may have overheard you mention it yesterday to Chef Baker at the Eastport farmers’ market.” Sherry fidgeted. She didn�
��t like getting caught eavesdropping. She prided herself on being more discreet than that. “Inside Mr. Andime’s office was a large potted plant, by his desk. It might be worthwhile to get a leaf sample.”

  “Ms. Frazzelle,” Bease began.

  “Humor me.” Sherry raised her eyebrows until she felt a tug on her cheeks.

  “I don’t work for you, Ms. Frazzelle, and I’m extremely busy. May I remind you of my warning to stay out of the investigative end of things?”

  “Hey, Sherry, need anything before I go work on my computer?” Charlie’s commanding voice startled Sherry, and she dropped the phone. With a moan she scooped it up. “Oops, I didn’t know you were on the phone. I’ll wait.” Charlie stood by Sherry’s head and tapped his foot on the floor.

  Sherry waved her hand at Charlie. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” Sherry raised the phone to her ear as she watched Charlie head toward the front door. She was surprised to hear the detective still talking. “. . . and take your latest mishap as a sign to lay low.”

  “I literally couldn’t lay any lower if I tried.” Sherry cleared her throat and gathered her breath. “And one more thing, have you ever considered Chef Tony Birns wasn’t the intended victim? Detective? Are you still there?”

  Chapter 18

  Sherry’s eyelids burst open as her phone’s ringtone played on. The window across the room framed a setting sun that transformed the clouds from white to the color of blood oranges.

  “Hello, Sherry, it’s your sweet-as-pie dad,” Erno began, while Sherry blinked herself lucid. “I wanted to give you a heads-up I’m walking in the front door in two seconds. I didn’t want to startle you. Here I come! I called Charlie and he told me he’s working in the patio and can let me in.”

  In the time it took Sherry and her medicated brain to make sense of the conversation, Charlie rushed to the front door. Erno and Charlie made their way over to Sherry on the sofa, the elder of the two carrying a furry white bundle.

  “Chutney!” Sherry sat up as straight as a celery stalk. “What happened to his leg? Where did you find him?”

  “His leg is broken,” Erno said. “He was found about a half mile from here. Tough little guy went a long way on three wheels. Something must have really spooked him. But I’d like to think he was going for help to save his gal. Like Lassie would.”

  A warm tear trickled down Sherry’s cheek.

  “Anyway, he’ll have to wear this leg contraption for about a month. But the vet says dogs’ bones heal pretty quickly. He also has this gash, maybe where the collar yanked off, but it’s hard to say. A Good Samaritan brought him to the vet. I found him at the fourth vet office I called today. They were so happy to have him claimed.”

  Sherry was never so ecstatic to see anything in all her life.

  “Are you feeling better?” Erno asked. “You’ve got some color back in those cheeks. Always a good sign.”

  “More like an adrenaline rush flush. I wasn’t sure I’d ever see my dog again, and here he is.”

  “Now I just have to figure out how to get Chutney-boy to do his business with this cast on.” Erno held the dog at an angle. “Want to hold him for a minute? Don’t get up. I’ll deliver him to you.”

  “I can hold him.” Charlie extended his arms.

  “Don’t you dare,” warned Sherry. “I need him.”

  Charlie backed off with his hands raised.

  As Erno carried Chutney over to Sherry, they passed his collar, leash, and the torn piece of material Charlie had left on Sherry’s side table. Chutney snarled as his nose twitched frantically.

  “Did you see his reaction?” Sherry pointed to the dog’s collar. “Show him those again. One by one.”

  Charlie picked up the collar. Chutney’s tail rotated faster than a handheld mixer at full speed.

  “He likes that.” Sherry smiled.

  Charlie picked up the leash and brought it over to Erno. Chutney attempted a three-legged jump from Erno’s arms while jerking his body left and right.

  “Don’t drop him. He’s precious cargo.” Sherry lifted her head higher. “I think that’s a very familiar belonging. He definitely associates his leash with a good time.”

  Charlie set down the leash and picked up the piece of cloth and waved it in front of the dog’s nose. Chutney curled up his lip and bared his teeth.

  “The person who belongs to that piece of cloth is on Chutney’s bad side.” Sherry reached out her hand. “As a matter of fact, let me take a closer look.”

  Charlie handed Sherry the cloth. Sherry flipped it over twice. She rubbed it along the skin of her arm. The hairs on her forearm stood up. She gasped.

  “Sherry? What is it?” Erno gripped Chutney tighter.

  “Can someone get me a resealable plastic storage bag and a Sharpie, please?”

  “I will, then I’ll give it a go outside with our furry tripod.” Charlie went in search of Sherry’s requested items.

  Erno rubbed the top of Sherry’s head just as Charlie returned with a clear bag. “Sweetie, I’m heading home unless you need me to do anything for you.”

  “Here’s the Baggie and the Sharpie.” Charlie handed it to Sherry, who put the piece of cloth inside before pinching the seal shut. She wrote “For Bease” on the edge of the bag with the pen.

  “We’ll be back when his business is complete.” Charlie, with Chutney in his arms, left through the back door.

  “Do you want me to wait with you until Charlie gets back inside?” Erno asked.

  “I’m fine, Dad. Sorry I can’t see you to the door, but thanks for bringing back Chutney. I’ll talk to you soon.” Sherry sunk her body down lower on the sofa and closed her eyes. “If you see Charlie outside, tell him to take his time.”

  “See you soon, honey, and no more hunting for clues, please. Leave it to the professionals.”

  Sherry’s eyes darted open. “If I hear those words one more time . . .”

  Erno waved, gave a wink, and let himself out the front door. Sherry’s phone rang as the door closed behind her father. “Blocked caller” flashed on the screen.

  “Hello.” Sherry clicked the speaker setting on. She propped the phone on a pillow next to her ear.

  “Bease here. I’m in the OrgaNicks parking lot. Met with Andime in his office. He got called out of the room for a few minutes, and Diamond and I scanned every inch of the place. Nothing green or leafy anywhere. You’re sure of where you saw it?”

  “Positive.” Sherry blew out an extended breath. “It was next to his desk. Don’t you remember seeing it when you met with him? That’s why you should have brought Detective Diamond in with you last time. He was top of his class at spotting details. You couldn’t have missed it. It was a large plant in a blue ceramic pot.”

  Bease huffed.

  Sherry rubbed her forehead. “I have something else to tell you.”

  “Hold a minute,” cautioned Detective Bease. “Something’s going on here. A fight just broke out!”

  Sherry waited for what seemed like several minutes, while listening to garbled voices in the background. She could make out Detective Bease saying, “Yes, Diamond, that’s Andime and Mellit. Write this down in quotes. Andime’s words. ‘Journalist integrity,’ something about ‘destroying the chef’s career with the stroke of a pen,’ and ‘my brother is an idiot.’ Mellit’s words. ‘Egomaniac and con man.’”

  Sherry imagined a scene similar to the one she witnessed when she visited the OrgaNicks office. She visualized the smirk on Nick’s face in one of the photographs she retained.

  “Patti Mellit is here, too,” said Detective Bease.

  “What? Patty Melts? I think they’re the perfect comfort food.” Sherry flipped her palm upward.

  “No, Patti Mellit, the food writer who covered the cook-off.”

  Sherry raised her eyes to the ceiling then back down to her phone. “She’s Nick Andime’s sister-in-law.”

  “I understand that. Doesn’t seem like they’ll be spending Thanksgiving together this year. No,
don’t write that down, Diamond.”

  “Detective Bease, did you give any consideration to what I mentioned in our last phone call? I don’t think Chef Birns was the intended—”

  “Here we are!” Charlie came through the front door carrying Chutney. “I got him to do his business, despite his cast. And we brought you a present I found at the door!”

  Sherry put her hand over the phone. “I hope it’s something to eat. I’m starving,” said Sherry. She lifted her hand and said, “Sorry, Detective Bease, my nurse and my dog have returned.”

  “Who?” the detective snapped.

  “Charlie and Chutney. Anyway, did you hear me say, I don’t think Chef Tony Birns was the intended victim?”

  “Ms. Frazzelle, you’re making a very strong statement. The victim seemed to have a number of people in his life who could be categorized as enemies and now you’re saying he wasn’t even the intended target? He died from, and all current evidence points to this, intentional asphyxiation. Your food may have been what transported the offending substance that basically choked the chef to death, may I remind you.”

  Sherry shifted her position to relieve an unpleasant tightening in her stomach.

  “Off the record, why would you now say the substance was meant for anyone else? Consider your words, because you, of all people, have a huge stake in the answer.”

  Sherry rubbed her temple with her index finger. “Right now it’s a feeling, but a strong one.”

  “Okay, well, I’ve made a mental note of your statement.”

  “I have to go, Detective Bease, Charlie’s waiting.”

  “Wait, I think I see something back by the dumpsters. Is the plant you referred to earlier about three feet tall with green and white leaves, in a light blue shiny pot? Ms. Frazzelle, are you there?” The detective’s voice grew distant.

  “Detective? That sounds like it. Can you hear me?” Sherry arm twitched and brushed the phone off the pillow. It slid under the sofa. “Ugh.”