Expiration Date

by Devon Delaney

  “I’ll get that.” Charlie handed Sherry a legal-size envelope. “This was at the door when we returned.” He retrieved the phone from under the sofa. He showed Sherry the blank screen. “Battery’s out of juice. I’ll get the charger.”

  On the top left corner of the envelope was the return address: OrgaNicks Foods, Division of Hillsboro Industries, Hillsboro, CT. Sherry drew in a deep breath to combat the pain and ripped open the seal. Inside was a neatly folded, spotless cook-off apron. She held it as high as she could and watched it unfold. She let her breath out in a long, slow stream.

  “Very nice,” said Charlie. “Yet another apron to add to your expansive collection!”

  * * *

  Dinner was a pleasant surprise of takeout items re-imagined by Charlie, with help from Sherry sidelined on the couch. Purchased tomato soup was elevated with a touch of garlic and herb spreadable cheese, stirred in until it was creamy. Parmesan crisps on top of the warm soup added salty cheesy goodness. Sherry talked him through making the paninis, and the result was gooey rich Brie, smoky country bacon, with a snap of watercress in each satisfying bite.

  When she was full, Sherry handed Charlie her empty plate. “Charlie, do you think I’m boring? I’m thirty-five, single, and a part-time employee at a hooked-rug store. I like to garden, walk my dog, and enter food competitions. The lamest dating profile ever.”

  “Hold on. What’s this all about? Did the bump on the head not knock some good sense into you? You know I never would have married you if you were boring.”

  “But a little boring, right?” Sherry plumped her pillow and laid her head back.

  “You scared the life out of me when I got the call Erno found you crumpled in the bushes. There’s proof you’re anything but boring. Let’s never go through that again, promise? Just stay out of the detective game, please, and find something else to make you exciting. Enough of this negative talk, I have dishes to do.”

  “That’s my goal, very soon.” Sherry was dissatisfied with Charlie skirting her question. Her ringing phone broke her sulk. She answered on the third ring and put the phone on speaker so she could lay it down next to her.

  “Hi, Sherry, it’s Amber,” said the friendly voice on the other end of the phone. “Just wanted to say I made it home safely and thank you so much for being such a kind and generous hostess.”

  “Hi, Amber. You’re very welcome. I should mention I had a bit of a mishap after dropping you off at the train station. I’m recuperating from a bump on the noggin. Luckily, Charlie has been taking great care of me.”

  “Car accident?”

  “No. Someone seemed to be waiting for me when I returned home from the train station, and it wasn’t with a welcoming plate of brownies.”

  “What?” exclaimed Amber. “I can’t believe it!”

  “Whoever it was wanted to really get a point across by screaming, ‘Mind your own business’ just before pushing me off the porch and into the front bushes.” Sherry saw the creases form on Charlie’s forehead after hearing this previously undisclosed detail. “I’d like to keep that detail from my dad, please.”

  “Didn’t hear a thing.” Charlie carried Chutney to the back door. “We’ll be outside for a few.”

  “Sherry,” Amber warned, “Please be extremely careful! This has gotten very serious, and you made a promise you were done snooping around.”

  “Consider me warned.” Sherry rolled her eyes.

  “But while we’re on the subject, is there anything new in the investigation?”

  “Amber, let me run something by you.”

  “I’m ready, I think.”

  “Remember Mac Stiles’ photo with Nick Andime and Patti Mellit in the background involved in an unpleasant discussion?”

  “Sure do.”

  “Before I returned the box, I pulled a few more pictures from that sequence. One, in particular, had a time stamped about ten minutes later where Nick is showing Patti the contestants’ display table of their completed recipes. Nick’s face in the picture wasn’t as sour as the previous shot, but he did seem, well, constipated. Patti, on the other hand, was all smiles. She had a small fork in her hand, poised to taste the most delicious food ever. I saw that scene unfold in person, too. What I didn’t see, at the time, was I don’t think Andime was happy that the photographer was capturing the moment on film. I specifically remember him tell Patti that it should remain a ‘secret’ when she taste-tested off the display table. He was insistent. In the photo Nick Andime was sneering at the camera lens and, let’s just say, ‘if looks could kill.’ The time-stamp sequence shows she sampled the food a good fifteen minutes before the judges began their tasting. Remember how the waiting was interminable? It was excruciating. Anyway, my gut feeling is whatever killed Chef Birns was meant for Patti Mellit instead.”

  “You have to tell Detective Bease.”

  Sherry inhaled to relieve the tightness under her ribs. “I did tell him I thought Birns wasn’t the intended target, but I’m not sure he’s a believer. I stopped short of saying Patti’s name, though. There must be something more concrete to base my theory on, but what?”

  “I wanted to ask if you’ve checked in on Kenny Dewitt’s blog?” Amber said. “Today he wrote about a cook-off he recently participated in. He doesn’t specifically name it as OrgaNicks, but it’s obvious it is. He describes how he was disqualified for having a blog.

  “Then he questions why a fellow contestant’s dish took on two different appearances, depending on whether it was on the judging table or the display table. He points out the fact the recipe in question probably also broke the rules. Of course, he was talking about Jamie Sox’s plates of food. He slams OrgaNicks for not being consistent with their rules enforcement and calls the contest, and I quote ‘as fake as the crabmeat in California Rolls.’”

  Sherry stared at the ceiling.

  “Sherry, are you still there?”

  “Amber, I have to go. I need to revisit one more photo.” Sherry’s voice trembled.

  Sherry hung up just as Charlie came in holding her dog.

  Chapter 19

  The next morning Charlie entered the kitchen with a look of severity that could frighten the bumps off a dragon fruit. “Sherry, you scared the life out of me. You have to stop doing that. I couldn’t find you anywhere. What are you doing in here?”

  “And good morning to you. Hope you were comfortable sleeping on the mountains of clothes in the blue room.” Sherry removed two eggs over easy and turkey sausage from the skillet, with her sore arm resting at her side. “Your cooking was great while it lasted, but this just feels right. I’m back in the saddle.”

  Charlie joined Sherry at the stove, where she wrapped the eggs and sausage on an English muffin in foil. “I don’t know if I can give it up. I was getting pretty comfortable with a spatula in my hand. I might be the competitor to watch out for at your next cook-off. Just kidding. I’m not cut out for all the measuring, seasoning, heating, and timing. I don’t know how you do it. I can convince a jury a man is innocent, but I would never be able to convince a panel of judges my cooking deserves a prize. And your point is well taken. I’ll take my clothes with me when I go.”

  “Thanks, Charlie, and thanks again for your help. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be that delicate woman who needs an e-husband rushing over all the time because she can’t live without a man.”

  “Do you mean ex-husband or e-husband?”

  “E-husband. You know, a man I text or e-mail to come change a lightbulb because I haven’t ever learned to do it myself. I guess you could call him an e-male, spelled E-M-A-L-E.” Sherry giggled. “I don’t want that either. Hopefully this episode is a one and done and you’re free to return to your single life.”

  “Good, because that would get old really fast. I’d have to ‘unfriend’ you, as my ex-wife. But before I go, can you also promise me you’ll stop snooping around for the murderer?”

  “Let’s not get crazy. If I don’t finish what I started, you�
��ll be bringing me your homemade brownies in jail on visiting day.” Sherry recognized by the vacant look on Charlie’s face his brain had gone into workplace mode and tuned Sherry’s attempt at humor out.

  “Thanks for the portable breakfast sandwich. I’ve got a huge caseload today and I need energy.” Charlie opened the front door. “I have to say, you’re not exactly sending me away with a calm feeling.”

  “Just get going. You’ve got your own clients to keep out of jail.”

  “Definitely. Take it easy today. Don’t overdo.” Charlie stepped out the door and proceeded down the porch steps.

  “Yes, boss.” Sherry’s fingers were crossed behind her back. “Have a good day.” She began to close the door but reconsidered. “Wait, you should take all your clothes with you.”

  Charlie raised one hand over his head and, without looking back, waved away Sherry’s suggestion.

  Sherry pursed her lips and shut the door. She flipped the dead bolt. As she turned her back to the door, the kitchen filled with the sound of her cell phone ringtone.

  “Hi, Amber! What’s cooking?” Sherry put her phone on speaker and laid it on the kitchen counter. She tore off a paper towel and began wiping the granite surface.

  “Not too much. Would it be an imposition if I stayed with you during the awards dinner?”

  “You’re coming to town for an awards dinner? Academy awards, Grammy awards, which awards?”

  “Have you checked your e-mail this morning? The OrgaNicks Cook-Off is finally ready to announce the winners. They’re paying for us all to make a quick return back to the area. I can stay at the hotel they’re offering up if it’s a bother to have me stay again so soon. No problem.”

  “I’m way behind on sorting out my e-mail. You miss one day and suddenly there are thousands unread. Hold on one second.” Sherry gathered up her laptop, moved it to the kitchen table, and searched her In-box for anything containing “OrgaNicks.”

  Sherry studied the message on her screen. “Amazing. It’s at Nick Andime’s own house. Do you think people are just going to turn around and come back to town?”

  “I know I will,” said Amber. “Did you see they’re throwing in a bonus travel expense check for any miscellaneous meals?”

  “Very generous. Of course. Stay here. Hopefully Marla will be here, too. Keep me posted on your arrival time.”

  “Off the top of my head, I’m guessing mid-morning Monday, but I’ll definitely keep you posted.”

  Chutney began barking, which shook his little body off course as he limped his way to the front door. To add to his impairment, his cast leg kept slipping out from underneath him on the smooth wooden floor. He gave up his journey and lay down, barking all the while.

  “There’s someone here, Amber. Talk to you soon.”

  Sherry returned to the front door and peeked out the sidelight windows. Recognizing the slender man outside, Sherry let her father in. “Hi, Dad. I’m getting a funny feeling you and Charlie are tag-teaming me. Are you two keeping an eye on me?” She led her father to the living room.

  “Just doing the Dad thing.” Erno plunged his hands in his pockets. “I missed seeing you at work the last couple of days.”

  Sherry sat down, but Erno remained standing. “Tomorrow is my grand return to the store. Although I could come in today if you really need me.”

  “Tomorrow is just fine. Anything new with the investigation of the murder at the cook-off? I mean, unless you don’t want to talk about it.”

  Sherry’s eyelid fluttered the way they always did when her father was stern with her. “Dad, I’ve told you all I know.” Sherry’s tone was as sweet as fudge. “There are two very capable detectives on the case, and I have no doubt it will be resolved soon.” Her eyebrows sank as she searched her father’s face for signs of belief. “There is some big news other than the murder, though. The cook-off awards ceremony has been scheduled for next Monday at Mr. Andime’s home. He’s the head of OrgaNicks. I’m guessing the more intimate setting speaks to honoring the chef who passed away. They didn’t want to make it a huge public relations spectacle.”

  “That is big news.” Erno rubbed his hand against his facial stubble. “I’d be more excited if I didn’t have to report the Foody Dude is at it again today, making speculations and accusations. I don’t like it, Sherry.”

  Sherry shifted in her seat. “Stop reading it. Out of sight, out of mind.”

  Her dad began to pace back and forth. “Easier said than done when it’s my daughter’s life that’s involved. Do you remember anyone acting suspiciously toward the end of the cook-off? That has to be the most important time to focus on.”

  Sherry tried hard to unravel her tangled thoughts, but the mild remnants of a headache made it difficult. She squinted her eyes and concentrated. “The final minutes of the cook-off were pretty action packed. Let me think. My strongest memories were of Patti Mellit for some reason. She wasn’t intimidating the way she conducted her interviews for her article. On the contrary, she was so engaging as she spoke I was distracted from my cooking. I wanted to hear other contestants’ answers to her interesting questions. And then there was Kenny Dewitt, who was intent on riling people up. He had a running commentary going the entire time and was very distracting. Jamie Sox had a meltdown, and Nick Andime skulked around losing patience with people. I was pretty stressed toward the very end of the cooking process, so my recollection is a bit blurry. All in all, nothing really stands out that I would label as suspicious. It’s frustrating me.”

  Erno faced his daughter. His expression was open and encouraging. “Sounds like there was a lot going on that morning, but you’re still not hitting on a motive for premeditated murder. Which cook came into the cook-off already wanting the chef dead? As I always say, you can’t brine a chicken without vinegar.”

  “Well, actually, brine is often just water and salt.” Sherry didn’t like to question her father’s wisdom, but sometimes it was a bit too subtle for her. “I don’t know. Nothing’s hitting me at the moment.” She rubbed the tiny remnant of the bump remaining on her head. “I just can’t shake the thought Chef Birns wasn’t the intended target.”

  Sherry patted the seat cushion next to her. “Have a seat, Dad. We need to call Marla and make sure she’s coming to the awards ceremony.”

  Chapter 20

  “Dad, stop worrying. You’re more agitated than a hungry vegan at a pig roast. We’ll be fine.” Sherry picked up her cell phone and checked the battery level before putting it in her purse. “It’s just a dinner and awards ceremony. What can go wrong?”

  “Listen, before last week, I never even considered there would be a murder at one of your cook-offs, and now it’s happened. So I think I have every right to be concerned.”

  “Fine. I see your point.”

  “Good, because I want you, Marla, Amber, and the grand prize check to come home in one piece.”

  “I second that,” Marla shouted as she descended the stairs. Midway down, she hiked up the legs of her denim jumpsuit to make the trip less cumbersome.

  Sherry watched her sister bypass the last step with an athletic leap. “We should be back by ten at the latest, I’m guessing, hopefully with a couple of big checks, not just one. A little something for all of us.”

  Amber came down the stairs after Marla, dressed in a sparkly silver blazer and pleated black skirt. “Should I wear something more colorful?”

  “No, you’re fine.” Sherry’s pesto green pants and lemon yellow shirt flashed brilliance in the hall mirror as she walked by. “Dad thinks I’m dressed like a citrus salad. I don’t think it was a compliment. Your outfit is much more fitting for a dinner out, but then again, I’ve never had much fashion sense. I clearly get all my wardrobe inspiration from the produce aisle. Marla, on the other hand, is setting the fashion world on fire with her evening overalls. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  Marla twirled around in a full circle. “Representing Oklahoma, we’d like Marla Barras to step forwar
d and receive the ten-thousand-dollar winning check.” She took a bow. Amber applauded.

  “No one’s winning if we don’t leave soon.” Sherry collected her purse and the car keys. She turned to her father. “And thanks again for keeping Chutney company. I hope it’s not too much trouble carrying him in and out to do his business.”

  Erno smiled as if with resistant lips. “We’ll be fine. Good luck, girls. Bring home the bacon!”

  “Wait a minute. I forgot something. I’ll meet you at the car.” Sherry dropped her hand from the front doorknob and ran to the kitchen. She returned carrying her cook-off apron.

  “Why are you bringing the apron?” asked Amber, as they climbed in the car.

  “I just have a feeling it might bring us some luck.” Sherry tucked the folded apron under her purse. “Okay, copilot, would you mind setting the GPS?”

  Amber typed the address in and hit “Start navigation.”

  “Route recalculation,” GPS Woman insisted after only two miles. “Make a U-turn when possible.”

  “That can’t be right,” Sherry tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “But I’ll do it. This thing has fooled me before.”

  Sherry had just completed her third U-turn when she heard a siren. “Ugh, now what?”

  Sherry looked in the rearview mirror and sucked in a deep breath. A police car flashed its lights from behind. From the backseat, Marla put her hand on Sherry’s headrest. “Pull over, and just relax. They don’t like conversation, just stick to ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ Not that I’ve ever been pulled over or anything.”

  Sherry guided the car to the curb.

  “Uh oh.” Sherry tracked the female officer in the side mirror as she approached the open driver-side window.

  Marla laid her hand on her sister’s wrist.

  “License and registration, ma’am.”

  Sherry opened her glove compartment, grabbed the paper-clipped organized papers, and handed them to the uniformed woman.

  “Your papers are in order here, but your headlight is out. I could write you a ticket, or you could promise me you’re on your way home and will take the car in first thing tomorrow to have it fixed.”