by Jessica Beck
“What type of wood do you use for your fire?” Doc Blackberry asked.
“Oak is my wood of choice, but any hardwood would do.”
“How about charcoal briquettes?” Peggy asked. “I was reading about them online before I came to class. Don’t some people use those instead of wood?”
“There’s nothing wrong with them at all,” Timothy agreed. “After all, they’re made from hardwood as well. For me, I harvest free wood off my land, so this is cheaper than buying briquettes, but there’s no reason you can’t use them instead. As a matter of fact, you don’t need a fire at all. If you’re so inclined, you can cook those ribs in the oven inside if you want to, but I don’t know what fun there would be in doing that.”
“Not on an evening like we’re having,” I agreed.
“How long does this take?” Sally asked, clearly already bored with the process.
Timothy wet a finger in his mouth and then held it up in the air. “Let’s see. There’s no wind to speak of, the humidity’s almost nonexistent, and the temperature is just about perfect. I’d say a little over two hours and we’ll all be eating ribs.”
“Two hours? What are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Sally asked.
I’d had enough of her. I walked over and stood directly in front of her. “Sally, need I remind you that I told you not once, but twice, that this was a lengthy process? We aren’t microwaving food here. It takes time, and the food tastes better because of it. If you’d like to leave and come back later, be my guest, but if it’s ready and you’re not here, I’m warning you, we won’t wait.”
It was a bluff, since no one had ever left my class before, but Sally fooled me. “Good enough. I’ll be back later, then.”
Before I could stop her, Harriet chimed in, “I need to do something as well. Don’t worry. I’ll be back in plenty of time, too.”
I really did have an open mutiny on my hands now. “How about you three?” I asked my remaining students. “Are you going to leave, too?”
“And miss the smells surrounding us out here? You’re out of your mind, Annie,” Doc Blackberry said with a smile.
“Just wait until everything starts cooking,” Timothy said with a wink. “You really won’t be able to tear yourself away then.”
“I’m staying, too,” Misty said.
“As am I,” Peggy echoed.
I got out the lawn chairs we kept on hand for our students and put mine beside Timothy’s.
“It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Doc Blackberry asked as he watched the flames of the secondary fire.
“They don’t get any better, if you ask me,” Timothy agreed.
“I’m curious about something. How do you know that the fire is hot enough?” Peggy asked after a few minutes of staring into the flames.
“That’s really kind of interesting,” I said. “You hold your hand over the lid, and you can tell.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Misty asked.
“No, it’s true. When I hold my hand about six inches above the lid, if there’s no discomfort, it’s probably 300 degrees F or lower. If I do it and I can only hold my hand there for three or four seconds, then it’s most likely around 350. If I put my hand there and I have to pull it away immediately, it’s around 400 degrees at that point.” My grandmother had taught me that method a long time ago, and it had never failed to hold true.
“And that actually works?” Peggy asked.
Timothy backed me up. “It’s how they did it before there were fancy infrared sensors or even thermometers.”
“Let me see for myself,” Peggy said as she placed her hand the directed distance over the lid. “You’re right. It’s fine at first, but it becomes uncomfortable soon enough.”
The others tried it in turn, and soon everyone was satisfied that I’d been telling the truth.
“Does that mean that you weren’t kidding earlier when you started talking about humidity and wind?” Doc Blackberry asked him.
“You’d be amazed by how many variables there are with outdoor cooking,” he replied. “It’s really more of an art than it is a science.”
“But it’s an art that you can all easily learn, if you just pay attention,” I said.
The two hours flew past, with our varied conversations adding into the surroundings as the skies began to darken. As far as I was concerned, Sally and Harriet had actually done the rest of us a favor by disappearing. The Dutch ovens were putting out some amazing smells, so I turned to Timothy. “Let’s see how we’re doing, shall we?”
He nodded in agreement, and then he took his shovel and brushed most of the coals off of the lids. Handing me his hammer, he asked, “Would you care to do the honors?”
“I don’t mind if I do.” I took the first lid off and was greeted by a burst of luscious aroma.
“Are they done yet?” Doc Blackberry asked me as he tried to see over my shoulder. “They have to be. They smell too good not to be ready to eat.”
“Sorry, but they aren’t finished yet. Everyone, gather around.” I took a fork and prodded the ribs with it. They were tender to the touch. “See? They’re cooked throughout, but they aren’t brown yet. We need another twenty minutes, and then they’ll be perfect.”
“What’s the final step?” Peggy asked, still carefully taking notes.
“Now we add the final heat,” I said, returning the single lid to its proper place. “Pile it on, Timothy.”
He did as I requested, scraping the other two lids without removing them and retrieving fresh coals from the secondary fire and piling them high onto the lids.
“Now we wait,” I said, “but don’t worry, it won’t be long.”
“The other two don’t know what they’re missing,” Misty said as she peered off into the near darkness.
“I hope they come back,” I said. I didn’t want them to miss the experience of tasting what we’d made, even if they had both frustrated me with their earlier attitudes.
“I myself have mixed emotions about it,” Doc Blackberry said with a deep sigh. “Sure, they deserve a taste, but if they fail to return, that means that there’s more for the rest of us.”
I had to laugh. “No worries on that count. There’s more than enough food for all of us.”
Just before the final reveal, Sally rejoined us, looking angry about something.
“Where’s Harriet?” I asked her.
“I have no idea. It’s not my day to watch her.”
I was about to snap back at her despite the fact that she was one of my students when the councilwoman returned too, looking more than a little flushed.
“You’re both just in time,” I said.
Harriet didn’t answer; she just managed a nod.
“Are we ready?” I asked Timothy.
Once again he brushed off the lids with the shovel, and I lifted the first lid I’d removed just twenty minutes earlier. The ribs had transformed in that short time, turning from red into a lovely shade of brown. They fell apart as I poked them with my fork, and after retrieving a green pepper slice, I held it up for everyone to see in the firelight. “It’s perfect,” I said.
“Amazing,” Misty said. “Simply amazing.”
“It’s truly a work of art,” Peggy echoed.
“Enough talk, ladies. Let’s eat,” Doc Blackberry said.
“I’ll grab one oven, Doc, you get one, and I need one of you to bring the third one.”
“I’d do it,” Timothy explained, “but I have to tend to the fire.”
“You don’t get to eat with us after all of the work you just did?” Misty asked with disapproval.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take him a plate later,” I said.
“I bet you will,” Misty said happily.
I just shook my head, but everyone else took notice, though they didn’t comment on it, much to my relief. Peggy grabbed the last Dutch oven with the hot-pad I offered her, and we went back into the Iron. “This time, you can all sit at the counter on the side that you’r
e used to.”
We put the ovens on trivets, and I quickly set their places. Removing the lids and setting them aside, I was glad that I had an overabundance of the cast iron trivets on hand. I collected them for entertainment, but I rarely found a way to use as many of them as I could at that moment.
Once their plates were all filled, I made a small plate for myself as I watched them eat.
Doc Blackberry’s face lit up after taking his first bite. “This is amazing.”
“It’s unbelievable,” Peggy added.
“I could never do this,” Misty said.
“I suppose it’s okay,” Sally replied.
“It’s tasty,” Harriet said, though it was clear that her heart wasn’t in it. She looked absolutely exhausted, and I wondered about what kind of strain she was under at the moment.
I took a bite and had to agree with everyone except Sally. It was a work of art, and I’d shown them how to do it.
After a while, I asked, “Seconds, Doc?”
“I’d better not,” he said as he pushed his plate away. “Annie, that was worth every cent of the cost of admission.” He turned to the other women and said, “Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.”
Misty asked, “Is that the time? I need to get home.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Peggy said. “Thanks again, Annie. Well done.”
“Thank you,” I said to her softly.
“What for?”
“For helping keep the lions in line.”
“That was nothing. You should try it with a roomful of schoolkids.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
Sally headed for the door, and then she turned to Harriet. “Well? Are you coming?”
“Sure. Okay,” she said.
“Harriet, are you all right?” I asked her.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” She spoke so softly that I knew that Sally couldn’t hear.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Harriet seemed to consider that for a moment, and then she asked, “What’s the use?”
“Let’s go. I don’t want to walk out into the parking lot alone, and neither do you.”
“Coming,” Harriet said, and then the two women left side by side.
How odd.
There was nothing I could do about it, though. I filled one plate until it was almost overflowing just as Pat walked down the stairs. “Is that for me?”
“Okay. Sure. Why not?” I asked as I thrust it into his hands.
“What’s going on?” Pat asked me. “Who is this really for?”
“It was for Timothy, but I can make him another. After I deliver it, we need to talk.”
“Right back at you. I’ll be right here when you’re through,” he said as he breathed in the delightful aroma on his plate.
At least there was plenty of food left. I made another small plate for me and then a larger one that exceeded even Pat’s, and then I headed out the back door.
The only problem was that the fires were already both out, and apparently Timothy was long gone.
“What’s wrong? Did you get stood up?” Pat asked me teasingly when I walked back inside.
“Of course not. I must just have misunderstood,” I said as I wrapped Timothy’s plate in aluminum foil and stuck it in the refrigerator. Was he getting cold feet about going out with me tomorrow night, or had something else happened? “How are the ribs?” I asked as I sat beside him and nibbled one myself.
“Tasty, as I knew they would be. Listen, something happened today that I need to talk to you about.”
“Well, apparently I’m free for the rest of the evening, so if you can talk while we’re both eating, then by all means, go right ahead.”
CHAPTER 8: PAT
I told Annie everything that had happened after I’d left the Iron, except about my impending date with Jenna. Sure, she was my twin sister, but that didn’t mean that she had to know everything about my business. For once, I was keeping my date to myself.
After I finished bringing her up to speed, it was clear that she was just as worried about Albert’s well-being as I was, even though I’d been the one who’d gotten us involved in his situation.
“What are we going to do about him not showing up like that?” Annie asked me.
“What can we do? How do we know that he just didn’t get cold feet and change his mind?”
“Pat, we have to find out if he’s okay, one way or the other.”
I stared at my sister for a moment before I spoke. “Are you sure you’re willing to do that? After all, you didn’t want to get involved in this in the first place, remember?”
“Maybe not, but I’m beginning to see that you were right to offer our help. Albert shouldn’t be doing this alone. It’s too dangerous.”
I grinned at her for a moment. “And it’s not dangerous for us too, if we get involved?”
“At least we’ve got each other,” Annie said. “And the sheriff’s our sister. That can’t hurt, either.” After a brief pause, she added, “As a matter of fact, that’s who we should go talk to first.”
“Do you really think Kathleen is going to help us?” I asked her. Our older sister was overprotective of both of us on her best day. I was pretty sure that neither digging into a murder—no matter how ancient—nor investigating a disappearance that was all too recent would suit her.
“Sure she will, if we handle it just right,” Annie said.
“And how might we go about that?”
“Just leave it to me, little brother,” she answered with a grin.
“You’re a few minutes older than I am, Annie. That doesn’t make you my big sister any more than sitting in a garage makes you a car.”
“I know,” she said with a laugh, “but it’s still fun to tease you about it.”
“Kathleen, we need to talk to you,” Annie said after Kathleen answered our knock at her front door. She was still wearing her uniform, and I wondered if she’d be going back out that evening on duty. I knew that her hours were much worse than ours were, and I didn’t know how she did it.
“What have you two gotten yourselves into this time?” she asked us with a frown.
“Why do you always go there right off the bat?” Annie asked her. “It just so happens that we’re not in any trouble whatsoever this time.”
“That’s good to hear. At least it makes for a nice change of pace. So, is this just a family visit, then?”
“Not exactly,” I said softly. “The truth of the matter is that we need your help with something.”
“I knew it.” I wished that I could dampen her look of superiority, but I couldn’t. “What is it?”
“Albert Yeats is missing,” I said.
“What are you talking about, Pat? I saw you speaking with him myself just this afternoon.”
“You saw that?” I asked. “Why didn’t you join us?”
“You two looked as though you were in deep conversation, about Mitchell’s murder, no doubt. I didn’t want to get involved if I didn’t have to.”
“Kathleen, the reason we’re worried is that he was supposed to meet me this evening at the Iron, only he never showed up,” I explained.
“Given the man’s recent erratic behavior, are you really all that surprised? He’s changed since he went to prison. You’d go broke trying to predict his next move.”
“I know he’s been a little off his game,” I said, “but I can’t believe that he’d stand me up like that. It was important.”
“To him, or to you?” Kathleen asked.
“Give Pat a chance to explain,” Annie said, coming to my defense. I appreciated the gesture, but I doubted that it would help our cause with Kathleen any.
“It’s okay. She has a right to ask,” I told Annie before I turned back to Kathleen. “I told Albert that he was taking an awful chance working alone, and I offered to at least be a sounding board for him about his investigation. He agreed, but I waited two and a half hours for him to show up after he was supposed to be there,
but he never made it.”
“Why am I not surprised? He’s been going around town stirring up all kinds of trouble,” Kathleen said. “I have half a mind to arrest him for disturbing the peace.”
“Don’t you think he has a right to try to find out who really killed Mitchell Wells?” Annie asked her. “After all, he paid quite a price for someone else’s mistake.”
“Finding a killer is a job that’s best suited for professionals,” Kathleen said officiously. Was that a dig at us for thinking of ourselves as amateur sleuths?
“Like the last time, you mean?” Annie asked pointedly. Evidently she’d taken the barb personally as well.
This was getting us nowhere. I thought my twin sister had been there to be a peacemaker, but evidently that role was falling squarely on my shoulders again. “We’re getting off topic, ladies. The only thing that matters right now is if Albert Yeats is okay. Kathleen, do you happen to have any idea about where he’s been living since he got back?”
“Sure. He’s staying on his cousin Bryce’s land.”
“What do you mean? Is he camping out?” I asked her.
“No, Bryce has a little play cabin on his property that his kids used to use when they were younger. Evidently Albert has been staying up there.”
“His own cousin won’t let him sleep in the house?” I asked, surprised by the news.
“Don’t jump to any conclusions, Pat. Evidently Bryce tried to give him a spare bedroom, but Albert couldn’t stand being in the house with other people. He opted to sleep out in the cabin by himself. It was his choice.”
“How do you know all that?” Annie asked her.
“Hey, I’m the sheriff, remember? It’s my job to know what’s going on in Maple Crest, and I take it seriously.”
“Have you discussed anything with Albert?” I asked her.
“Do you mean about where he’s living?”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” I said. “I mean regarding his murder investigation.”
To my surprise, my older sister nodded. “I tried to. I told him that he was going about it all wrong, that I’d be willing to revisit the case myself with him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He said that he wanted to do it all himself, not that I listened to him. It’s my job to investigate every open murder case, and Mitchell Wells’s is active again. I spent all afternoon going through my predecessor’s files about the case, and I can see some solid leads that were pretty much ignored before.”