Death By Rum Balls

by Colleen Mooney

  Larry ignored Julia’s suggestion but turned to her and asked, “What cha put in these here rum balls, Sis? They really warm ya’ up.” By way of introduction, he wrapped one arm around the shoulders of the woman standing next to him. “This here is Donna, my new wife. Her stage name is Twilight. We been married just two weeks.” The woman had black, Goth hair teased within an inch of its frizzy life and was wearing an outfit straight out of a Frederick’s of Hollywood Christmas catalog. It was a skin-tight, red spandex bodysuit with a big heart-shape cutout at the neckline that her cleavage was trying to escape through. The heart was outlined in rhinestones. There were white fake fur cuffs on the sleeves at the wrists. She looked like someone Santa might fantasize about in his dreams during the off season. Who am I kidding? Santa or any man would fantasize about her in any season. She was sporting a black eye that all the stage makeup in the world could not hide. She also had a healthy glow about her, as my Dad would say about women who perspire.

  Julia turned to Twilight and finally said, tapping her own eye, “Boy, I bet that was hard to cover up in your wedding photos.”

  “I just took profile photos,” Donna Twilight said.

  “Larry, you got yourself a fast thinker here,” said Julia. The mocking went right over both their heads. Julia waved Frank over and told him to go let the dogs out of the back room now that everyone had arrived.

  Frank said, “Maybe you should keep them back there. Some people are afraid of dogs and yours are all big.”

  “Everybody here knows I love dogs,” Julia snapped. “If they don’t like my dogs, they can leave.” I thought Julia might be hoping Twilight was afraid of dogs and would ask Larry to go home. It didn’t happen.

  Julia was just standing there looking at them, and I could see her brother start to fidget and look uncomfortable since neither one of them had any idea how to make or fake small talk. Twilight just stood there holding a box of rum balls.

  “Looks like we have som-pin in common,” Donna Twilight said to Julia. “I love dogs too,” she said. Only when she said dogs it sounded more like dawgs. While Julia did love dogs, I didn’t think Donna’s revelation of having this in common with her new sister-in-law endeared Donna Twilight to Julia in any way.

  Julia had six dogs at last count, but did she keep the one she picked up off the interstate? I couldn’t remember. They were all big except one medium-sized yappy dog. Six dogs, or seven, were too many by popular opinion. Most were hounds so they howled instead of barked. I heard them howling from the back of the house when we arrived. When she let them run through the house, it felt like a pack of thirty wild hyenas yapping and barreling past you instead of six or seven.

  “How did you two meet?” Ten-gallon hat jumped in and asked them. Since we were standing together for the first time all evening, I noticed how much older he looked than Julia. Age and time had not been kind to his face which appeared to have been reworked by years of hard experiences. He seemed like he was making an effort to be agreeable with Julia’s rogue brother.

  “I met my bride speed dating at the club where Twilight works as an exotic dancer. It’s a Gentlemen’s Club in Houston I used to go to when I was there on business. One of her benefits working in that club was participating for free when they had speed dating nights. Right, honey?”

  Twilight just smiled and leaned her tight body in her even tighter-fitting clothes up against Larry.

  I wondered if she had been speed dating after the wedding which might explain the shiner. “Are you from Houston?” I asked Donna.

  “Oh no. I just got a job there. I’m from Houma,” she said. “You know what they say about Houma—home of oil field trash and proud of it.”

  Donna was affectionately referring to the area along the southwest corridor from New Orleans to Houston that serviced the oil industry. Many people made a living working offshore on rigs and lived in that area. Many oil companies were headquartered there.

  “You said speed dating? Hot dang!” LB said, slapping his hands together. “That’s how Julie and me met. Baby, you hear this?” LB called her Julie, not Julia, out loud and right in front of her, even after her brother tried to set him straight. He followed that faux pas up by calling her ‘baby’ which might make the Choctaw part of her want to scalp him assuming he had any hair under the hat. Again, Julia looked unfazed at the wrong use of her name by her love interest, yet she was shooting daggers at Donna Twilight and Larry.

  “Speed dating?” I asked looking at Julia. Something else she failed to mention.

  “It’s the new way to meet someone and not waste a lot of time with the wrong ones,” Larry explained. He popped a bite-sized rum ball into his mouth from the gold foil box Twilight was holding. It looked exactly like the box Jiff and I found in the mailbox that he was still holding.

  “Well, we’re all for not wasting time to find the right one,” Jiff said with his easy charm and quick smile.

  Larry was using some sort of twig and spearing two or three rum balls at a time while Donna Twilight held the box. He was raking his teeth along the twig, and at one point he just ate the twig too. Donna Twilight handed him another twig with a rum ball on it. “These are good. Sis, you make em?” he asked Julia. Larry was oblivious to the fact she was trying to ignore him. “I like these here little sticks or twigs you got in ’em. It makes ’em easier to pick up. They’re like toothpicks that you can eat.” Then he nodded at Jiff holding the gold foil box that looked identical to the one Donna Twilight was holding and said, “You must like ’em too.”

  Jiff just smiled as we watched Larry go after the rum balls like he was on a strike force. Julia stood studying him a moment before she answered. “No, I did not make any rum balls with twigs in them. None of the boxes I opened had those. Do you remember what box they came out of?”

  “Donna, you remember what box had these twigs?” Larry asked his bride. She shook her head no. “Don’t know, Sis.”

  To the rest of us in a nicer tone she said, “Those are all from the Secret Santa exchange we had at my gourmet cooking club. We all had to make our own recipe of rum balls and put them in the same gold box so we wouldn’t know who made which one. They are all numbered, and only the president knows whose name is associated with each box. We need to vote on which box we liked best.” Back to Larry, and in the not-friendly voice she said, “Could you leave at least one so I can taste it? Don’t eat too many or you will ruin your dinner. I went to a lot of trouble to make crown roast.”

  Jiff had turned over the box of rum balls to see what was on the bottom while Julia was describing the blind taste test. As soon as she finished and before she could lob another insult at Larry, Jiff said, “You know, Julia, something sure smells good.”

  “That’s my crown roast.” Julia said. She was all smiles now that Jiff had shifted the attention back to her. She caught Frank’s attention and waved him over. “Frank, go check on the crown roast.” To the rest of us standing there she said, “Excuse me. I see someone I want to introduce LB to. Dinner should be ready shortly.” Julia took LB by the hand to meet the someone across the room.

  Larry said to Donna, “Boy, is she gonna have a fit when she finds out we took two boxes with us to the French Quarter.” He let out a good-natured laugh. “Baby, didn’t those boxes have these twigs in them?”

  Donna nodded and held out the box for him to take another rum ball.

  “Let’s go grab another box of these here rum balls before my sister hides them on me. I saw four or five more boxes in the kitchen.” He all but sprinted off in that direction with Donna ambling behind him.

  “That crown roast is all she talked about today between yelling at me over the tree lights,” Frank said, arriving with more champagne. “She only made it to show off to her gourmet cooking club, not that any one of them would ever give her the satisfaction of telling her it’s good. I’m going to have to go help with the food in the kitchen.” He pushed the tray of flutes toward us. “Take these last two glasses. I might not
be back for awhile.”

  “Wait, take this box we found left in the mailbox,” I said to Frank and put it on his empty tray. “Based on what you told me earlier, it might not be a gift, but it is a box of rum balls.”

  Jiff said, “You might want to hide any boxes you can find before Larry plunders any more of the rum ball stash.” He nodded and took the box Jiff handed him. “Oh, the box we found doesn’t have a number on the bottom. Julia said they were all supposed to be numbered.”

  Frank did one of his signature eye rolls and said as he walked off with the box, “Great. This will make her happy.”

  “Frank was right,” Jiff said. “Larry is definitely in a flop sweat.”

  “I wonder if he doesn’t feel well. I don’t think that’s normal,” I said.

  “Hey, they’re still on their honeymoon. Maybe they ran upstairs for a quickie,” Jiff said.

  “Could be,” I said. “Donna Twilight has a healthy glow going on too,” I said. “Or didn’t you notice?”

  “I had a hard time noticing anything but her outfit,” Jiff said and squeezed my hand.

  “Oh, you liked it? Cuz I bought one just like it to wear to your parents’ house for Christmas Eve,” I tried to say and not laugh.

  Jiff and I roamed around the front two rooms of the double parlor where Julia had the dinner table set and stopped to admire the sideboard arranged with a buffet of cookies, brownies, mini cheesecakes, and every imaginable holiday treat including my favorite, the Kringle. As we moved to the far end of the buffet, Larry and Donna Twilight were arriving at the other end. Larry had another gold foil box and was opening it to see what goodies were inside.

  “I love rum balls,” he said to no one in particular. “This box don’t have them little twigs for toothpicks,” he said looking at Twilight.

  I noticed he was starting to slur his words and he was sweating more profusely. Twilight retrieved all the toothpick twigs from the box they had left one rum ball in as Julia requested. I figured Twilight learned it was a good idea to keep Larry from getting annoyed. We all wondered if he was the one who gave her the black eye. They both went to the dining room table that was set for twenty people, complete with place cards, and claimed two chairs with table settings side by side. Larry turned the chairs to face one another. It didn’t seem to matter, or they didn’t notice that neither setting had his or her name on the place card. They proceeded to use the napkins, plates, forks, whatever was in front of them. Julia was not going to like this when it was time for her guests to come into the dining room to be seated and eat. She had gone to a lot of effort to make it a beautifully set table, and it had been until those two sat down.

  Larry had another gold foil box that looked like the one we brought in from the mailbox. They put the box of rum balls between them, and Donna started feeding them to Larry between gulps of the whiskey drink Larry had ordered Frank bring to him.

  Jiff leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “See. Larry is romantic.”

  “Larry is going to be in the hot seat with his sister when Julia sees he wrecked her table settings,” I said. We both watched for a brief moment as he practically force-fed Twilight a rum ball she was not interested in eating. When Larry looked around the room, she spit it out in the table napkin. He was spearing two or three at a time and eating them in rapid succession, including the twig toothpicks. Then he and Donna sat with his arm entwined through hers so each of them could drink his or her own drink like you see the bride and groom do at weddings.

  “He sure likes rum balls,” I said. “You know I make killer ones—I don’t care what Julia says about hers. Don’t try any of these. I plan to make mine and bring them to your parents’ house on Christmas Eve.”

  “And she cooks!” Jiff said in jest. “My parents are going to be so impressed.”

  Everyone had congregated to talk and visit in the double parlor across from the dining room, leaving Larry and Twilight sitting at the dining room table set for twenty guests all to themselves. I could see people stick their noses in, spot the two, and walk back to our area.

  The house was built in the mid to late eighteen hundred. Julia renovated it into the bed and breakfast keeping the overall design of a center hall with a double parlor, a powder room and staircase on one side, and a long double parlor dining room on the other. The room behind the dining area was a room the gentlemen retired to for a drink or a smoke back in the day. Across the back of the house sat the kitchen with a screened porch off of it. A grand staircase was off to one side in the center hall that led to the guest bedrooms upstairs. Julia had a bedroom and office in one of them. I wondered if Frank moved in and lived here now. He was always at the bed and breakfast when I stopped by.

  Jiff and I walked from table to table. Every flat surface inside of the mansion was covered in holiday decor. He finally said, “I thought outdoors was festive. Everything inside looks like outside only in miniature.” There were collections of tiny nutcrackers, tiny snowmen, tiny Santa Clauses with and without sleighs or reindeer, doing every conceivable Santa Claus thing. He added, “I counted at least ten tiny nativity scenes. I feel like a motorist passing an accident…and I can’t stop looking at it.”

  Just then there was the sound of flutes and people singing “Deck the Halls” outside. Julia appeared and yelled for Frank in one of her ear-piercing screams while he walked up calmly behind her and stood at her heels. Julia started to say, “Frank, put down those drinks and go get rid of those…”

  “I’ll do it,” I said to cut her off. God knows what Julia would have called them in front of everyone. “Julia, it’s the holidays. Be Christian. They are here singing to be nice.”

  She ignored everything I said after she heard, ‘I’ll do it.’

  Frank followed me to the front door and said, “Be careful and don’t let the dogs out. It will be something else I have to do.” He slumped his shoulders feigning a look of exhaustion.

  Jiff was right behind me when I opened the door just wide enough for both of us to squeeze through. I pulled it closed behind us. We stood in front of the door without our coasts on to hear the singing. Jiff took off his suit jacket and put it around my shoulders. Even if Julia didn’t want them gone, I was going to make short work of the entertainment because I was freezing. Julia’s dogs were roaming the house and I could hear one or two sniffing and growling on the other side of the door behind me.

  It was a nice group of ten or twelve people, all singing from music sheets while one man stood facing them, directing the small choir with his hands. The women all wore period Victorian dresses to their ankles, and the men wore suits, some with velvet vests and top hats. A few had on vintage overcoats with fingerless gloves. Some wore round spectacles sitting on the end of their noses. One man was in a wheelchair with a handmade quilt over his lap, and a lady wearing a bonnet, I assumed she was his wife, stood singing behind him. l smiled and waited until they finished. I started to say, “Thank you. We were just about…” when I was cutoff by an enthusiastic version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” before I could finish saying we were about to eat dinner.

  What could I do? I didn’t want to be rude. I wasn’t sure what the proper etiquette was for getting rid of carolers at your front door, or rather someone else’s front door. Jiff put his arm around me when he looked over smiling and saw my teeth chattering. Should I invite them in? Julia would probably turn around and shut the door in their faces since it was pretty much the marching order she gave Frank and now expected me to deliver. I was smiling through chattering teeth but contemplating a cutoff tactic while holding the door closed behind me when I felt it yanked out of my hand.

  Julia pulled both doors, flinging them open so they were wide apart, letting all the dogs run out at once jumping and howling all over the carolers, especially the man in the wheelchair. I’m sure the six, or maybe it was seven, dogs looked like a rabid pack to the carolers because they did to me. As if on cue from the music director, a terrified look came over th
eir faces and I heard a collective gasp forcing them to lean backwards in unison. They slammed their songbooks shut and took off running in every direction across the lawn, around and over the obstacles as if their lives depended on it. The lady behind the man in the wheelchair threw her songbook in his lap, spun the chair around, and began pushing him as fast as she could across the widest stretch of the front lawn that had a clear view of the street. Since she was the slowest, the dogs were nipping at her heels and barking as if they thought these people were playing a game.

  Julia did nothing to call back the dogs. Instead she said to me, “If they knew how much dog poop was in that yard, they wouldn’t push a wheelchair that way. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

  She went back inside, calling the other guests to the dining room to eat her crown roast.

  Jiff and I watched as most of the carolers made it to the church van parked up the street. Some of the carolers continued to run up the street and the church van followed them, stopping to pick them up. I saw the van following alongside trying to pick up the hysterical woman still running and pushing the wheelchair. I’m surprised no one had a heart attack.

  When the dogs got close to the street, they stopped because Julia had a NO FENCE FENCE system. It was an underground circuit that sent a signal to the dogs’ collars that shocked them and made them stop when they approached the perimeter of her property where the wire was buried. The dogs knew to stop a few feet from the street. Their barking and howling probably sounded to the carolers like they were still on their heels.

  Jiff and I looked at each other when we realized the screaming was coming from the dining room and not the carolers. My first thought was someone knocked the crown roast onto the floor.

  Chapter Seven

  Jiff grabbed my arm and pulled me inside with him to the dining room where we made our way through the bottleneck of people crowded at the door. When we reached the front of all the guests, we saw Larry slumped over in his chair, his face blue and his eyes open. He appeared to have fallen over, planting his face sideways on the table with his eyes wide open and foam coming from his mouth. Twilight had fallen off the chair and was on the floor, not moving, but it looked like she might still be breathing. Jiff rushed to check their pulses, and I saw Julia at the other end of the dining room near the kitchen entrance. She had her hand over her mouth and when she saw me, she started to say, “I can’t believe this is happening to me…” and before she said “again” I had pulled her into the kitchen. She was referring to the day she opened her bed and breakfast and a dead guy was found in one of the guest rooms. A dead guy who was the only guest at the time, and the focus of the police investigation had been on Julia.