Eat, Drink and Be Wary

by Devon Delaney

  “I’ve been tracking Fitz for almost a month. I had to wait until he was in Connecticut, since the inquiry is taking place here. He has properties in many states, so pinning him down wasn’t easy.”

  Sherry paused to reframe her question. “But exactly how did you know he was in the cook-off?”

  “Okay. I admit I was getting desperate. He has a residence in Maine he’s at often, so I staked out his townhouse. That meant hours and hours in a parked car or strolling down his building’s sidewalks. I was getting sick and tired of the miserable bleak weather people have to put up with there. I caught a month-long cold and was close to handing off the assignment to someone else when, one day, an overnight delivery envelope landed on his doorstep. The return address was the cook-off. I googled the contest information, took a chance he’d be one of the contestants, and showed up. I figured the contestant cocktail party would be the best place to catch him.”

  “Speaking of feeling awful, I feel awful I was the one who provided the initial information on Maine Course Foods that got the investigation started and put Fitz in harm’s way,” Pep added.

  “Who would imagine murder would be the outcome?” Erno asked. “People are going to start avoiding the cook-offs you’re in, Sherry.”

  “I need to take a close look at Fitz’s recipe in the contest booklet at home. If Kelly told you I’d welcome the challenge of beating his similar recipe, you’re right. What he really may have wanted was to get my attention. If he was aware of my occasional sleuthing, his recipe could contain the clue as to who was after him. He knew me as a competitor. I always read the other finalists’ recipes from start to finish at some point, especially if I’ve lost to them.”

  “Just when I thought cook-offs were safe again,” Amber said.

  “That’s what I say,” Erno added.

  “Cook-offs are safe,” Sherry said. “It’s the cooks that aren’t.”

  “I have an idea,” Pep said in a near whisper. “What if we plant a seed of doubt in Vilma’s head? She’s so insistent on forcing the investigation forward on her time and in her preferred direction. She needs a nudge to knock her off balance. Give her someone else to think about besides Roe.”

  “Honey, dare I ask what that seed might be?” Charlotte rubbed her belly, which, in return, produced a growl so loud everyone laughed. “The baby wants to know, too.”

  “Sherry, can you text Vilma and tell her you and Charlotte are beginning to worry about my suspicious behavior? That Detective Bease is going to lock me up if I don’t start answering questions.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” Sherry glanced at Charlotte’s chatty stomach. “You’re out of the crosshairs. Why would you want to have her think you’re possibly guilty again?”

  “Vilma’s so close to pinning Roe for the murder, she’s unwilling to change her mind. She’s written the ending. There’s no going back. She’ll ramp up her evidence and either present a cut-and-dry charge against him or uncover another truth as to who the murderer is.”

  Sherry brought her phone up to face level. “Couldn’t hurt.” She tapped out a message and hit the send key.

  “Good luck in your search, Sherry.” Lyman headed out the door. “I’d like to see whoever did this behind bars ASAP. For my peace of mind.”

  When Sherry stepped out The Ruggery’s front door, she was struck by how quickly the afternoon was cooling off. Across the street, the sun lowered behind the Wine One One lounge. Traffic was light. Only a few pedestrians were out window shopping.

  As she headed toward her car parked along the curb, her mind drifted to her admiration of Augustin’s adherence to cleanliness, while being such a dog-loving community. Every other block provided a doggie pickup bag dispenser for owners to keep sidewalks unsoiled. The fastest way to draw a crowd, while walking around town, was to ignore your pet’s mess. There was no shortage of enforcers ready to call an owner out if immediate action wasn’t taken. Sherry should know. She had once, and only once, put convenience over her duty to pick up. She received a summons in the mail, along with her name listed in the town’s police blotter. In the very same newsletter she would years later edit.

  Sherry’s cell phone rang, bursting the bubble of shame she found herself in as she recalled her misdeed.

  “Sherry,” the solemn voice on the other end of the phone began. “You texted Vilma.”

  Sherry peered around her, not expecting to see anyone but still wanting to be sure no one was approaching. “Ray? How did you know that? Are you with her?”

  “I’m with her. She’s dead.”

  “Dead? Vilma? Dead?”

  “Yes, yes, and yes.”

  Sherry took a moment to track a single seagull flying across the darkening horizon. The squawking bird’s piercing cry reminded Sherry of the gull flock that had circled the Fall Fest Cook-off judging table before the awards ceremony. One had landed on the table and stolen a potato off Heidi’s presentation platter. If only gull annoyance was the most unusual occurrence of the cook-off weekend.

  “I was with her a few hours ago at the inn. Well, not really with her. She inserted herself into a conversation I was having with Ginger. In the barn. What happened to her?”

  “She was found slumped over the steering wheel in her car. The motor was running, but she never left the inn’s parking lot,” Ray explained. “When I checked her phone, she had a new text from you. The phone was locked, so I couldn’t get past the notification. Care to share what you were texting her about?”

  Sherry mulled over the thought that her text from Vilma may have been the last text the woman was ever to send. Sherry shut her eyes. How to present this to the detective. He wasn’t going to buy Pep’s idea without a convincing sales pitch. It seemed a good idea at the time. In an instant, the timing went from good to horrendous. “Uh, well. Okay. Hear this with an open mind, Ray. Since Vilma was so set on butting into the investigation, Pep and I came up with a plan.”

  “Continue.”

  Sherry cloaked her tone in a creamy softness. “Let me say again, it seemed like a good idea at the time. We were going to give her a specific clue path to follow and see what she could come up with. She doesn’t seem to mind sending me on wild goose chases, so we were reciprocating, shall we say. If she came up with the murderer, all the better. The point is mute now, of course.” Sherry paused. “Did she suffer a heart attack? Stroke? She was always running this way and that, I could see how either could’ve happened.” Despite her insistence, she didn’t believe the scenario she tried to convince Ray of.

  “Nope. She was strangled while sitting in the driver’s seat of her car. Apron strings tied tight around her neck. Her car was idling, and her phone was at her feet with your text notification on the screen.”

  “Oh, no. Was the apron red, by any chance?”

  “If you’re asking whether it was a cook-off apron, I’d have to say, yes. New England Fall Fest was embroidered on the front. The good news, if I can call it that, is her car had a dashboard camera. Possibly the killer walked across the front of the car at some point and the camera caught the image. I’ll check.”

  “Any sign of Oxana?”

  “I was gonna ask you the same question. It’s in Pep’s interest she gives a sworn statement stating exactly where she saw your brother the night of Fitz’s murder, if you want to keep his pregnant fiancée out of it. Hear me?”

  “Loud and clear.” Sherry caught her toe on a crack in the curbstone and almost regained her balance before she went down. She swallowed an expletive she seldom uttered, except in times of extreme duress. “My feeling is, she may just reappear now that Vilma isn’t looming over her every move.”

  “The sooner the better.” Ray left no room for misinterpretation. “Gotta go. My mother took a bad turn this morning, and I had to hire full-time care. Another situation to keep my eye on. The department is insisting I either crack this case in record time or hand over the reins to one of the young bucks. Once the reins are out of my hands,
I won’t ever get another assignment. I’m certain of . . .” His voice faded away.

  “Get going. I’ll contact you when . . .” Sherry realized it wasn’t the time to hand out promises she wasn’t sure she could keep. The phone call ended without a good-bye. “Vilma, what did you get yourself into?”

  * * *

  Even after her initial prep was complete, Sherry paced around her kitchen counter, opening and shutting drawers. “Ginger’s got another mess to clean up. Poor gal.” She pulled open another drawer. “I can’t remember what I’m looking for.”

  “The microplane for the lemon peel,” Amber said. “You’re refreshing the lemonade. Why don’t you add a little vodka? That might take the edge off.”

  “That’s right. Thanks. Too much on my mind.” Sherry resumed her search. “And good idea about the vodka. I wonder if Addison likes hard alcohol or beer or what. I’m surprised he’s coming without Ginger. The last thing the Augustin Inn needed was another murder. But how could I not be thrilled Addison’s bringing the party leftovers with him?”

  “Let’s rewind back to Vilma.” Amber handed Sherry a lemon. “Did she text you back before she died?”

  “Yes, she did. I didn’t mention that to Ray. If the phone was locked, I know he hasn’t read it yet.”

  “Share, please.”

  “Vilma wrote back in no time. She said not to worry about Pep. He wouldn’t be under suspicion as soon as R—she didn’t write out the entire name, but I assume she means Roe—trips up. He was very close to, in her words, taking the bait.”

  “Interesting. She was fully invested in pinning Roe. Why? What’s in it for her?”

  Sherry opened her mouth to speculate but was interrupted by Chutney and Bean’s eruption of barking.

  Chutney and Bean scampered through Sherry’s kitchen. Sherry followed the canine alarmists to the front door. She peered out the sidelights and saw no one. The dogs continued leaping and strutting in a show of full terrier bravado.

  “What is it, guys? I don’t see anyone.” Sherry squatted to get a better perspective on what the dogs saw. “We have a visitor. It’s not a someone, it’s a something.”

  Seated on the bristled porch doormat Sherry used to scrape the grass and mulch off her shoes was Elvis Purrsley. Attached to the cat’s body harness was the feline leash, covered in garden debris.

  “I bet Eileen is worried sick. I’ll be right back, Amber. Need to run across the street for a minute.” Sherry stepped into the rain boots she’d parked by the door for early morning Chutney walks. She used her leg to barricade the dogs inside long enough to slip out the door and then stepped gingerly over to Elvis Purrsley. She picked up the leash loop. “Okay, Elvis, it’s back home for you.”

  Sherry made her most persuasive kissing noise to urge Elvis forward. When that didn’t work, she coaxed, meowed, cooed, and cajoled, all to no avail. “Guess I’m not the cat whisperer, either.” She bent over and scooped the cat up into her arms. “I’m not opposed to a hand delivery.”

  Sherry crossed the street and knocked on Eileen’s door. After some time spent staring at the red paneled door, Sherry gave up. “Hope you like little feisty dogs because that’s your company tonight. Got no other choice.”

  Elvis was perfectly relaxed in Sherry’s arms until she opened her front door. Chutney and Bean expressed their displeasure at the visitor by leaping up Sherry’s legs and nipping at the cat’s tail. The scolding they received sent them pouting to the dog bed in the corner of the living room. Sherry unclipped Elvis’s leash. He began an inspection of the house.

  “Who have we here?” Amber asked as the cat pranced past her.

  “Elvis Purrsley. Eileen’s cat. I’ll text her. Not sure how he got out, but Eileen’s not home, so he’s visiting us for a while.” Sherry picked up her phone. Her posture stiffened when she noticed a text had come in. A breathy gasp escaped her lips. “Ginger texted me. Says time is running out. What does that mean?”

  Before Amber could respond, there was a knock at the door. Chutney and Bean slinked quietly to the front hall, staying behind Sherry in a show of obedience. As soon as she praised their calmness, they let loose with full terrier abandon. “Guests are here.”

  Sherry opened the door to Erno, Pep, and Charlotte. They filtered through the doorway and inside the house. Strolling down the path toward the door, a few steps behind, was Addison. He was balancing two large sacks.

  “Guys, Addison could use a hand.” When no one returned to offer assistance, Sherry stepped out in her dog-walking boots and greeted Addison as he approached the door.

  “Thank you for your flexibility, Sherry. I brought some great fish, shrimp, and a bunch of veggies from the party. As you can imagine, Ginger wishes circumstances were different and that you all were coming to the inn for dinner. She sends her best.”

  “Thank you for coming and bringing all these goodies. I’m so sorry about Vilma. What an awful situation for the inn again.” Sherry reached out for one of the sacks of food.

  Addison clung tightly to his bundles. “I’ve got it. I might tip over if I hand one off. Show me where to set these down. My arms are about to give out. It’s been a long day.”

  Once inside, Sherry unpacked the food on the kitchen counter. She was thrilled to see bottles of merlot among the seafood and produce. Gorgeous green butter lettuce was a featured item in one of the bags. The produce gave Sherry an idea.

  Before she began cooking, she made sure her guests were settled in with a drink in hand. As soon as she placed chips, salsa, and guacamole within reach of the guests, she set out in search of the Fall Fest Contestant Cookbook.

  “Anything I can help you with?” Amber entered the kitchen. “What’s on the menu for Pep’s last supper?”

  Sherry heard Amber, but the words registered no meaning as she was lost in the cookbook.

  Amber asked again, adding, “What are you reading?”

  “I’m going to make my lettuce wraps and Fitz’s lettuce wraps from the cook-off. I’m reading his recipe. Snappy Shrimp Lettuce Wraps with Thai Basil Avocado Aioli.”

  “You have all those ingredients for his recipe?” Amber asked in amazement.

  Sherry circled her arms around a collection of ingredients on the counter. “Since he didn’t cook off, none of his ingredients were used. They’re all right here. Addison brought everything listed in Fitz’s recipe.”

  A smirk crossed Amber’s lips. “This is your chance to see if his recipe could’ve beaten yours.”

  “True. More important, I have a nagging feeling his recipe might contain a clue as to who was threatening him. If I’m way off base, then yes, it’s my chance to go head to head with him one last time. I’ll dedicate dinner to his memory. Since you asked, here’s a bowl of shrimp to peel.” Sherry slid the plump crustaceans toward her friend. “I’ll pop my head in the living room and tell everyone dinner is in thirty minutes. Keep peeling.”

  “Wait. How did I go from guest to sous chef in a span of one minute?”

  “Be careful what you volunteer for.”

  Chapter 24

  “Attention, everyone.”

  All heads turned in Sherry’s direction.

  “If you know me at all, you know I can’t let too many days go by without partaking in a food competition. So, tonight I’m making my winning lettuce wraps from the Fall Fest Cook-off. Inspiring me to raise the bar was a recipe also in the contest for another version of lettuce wraps.”

  Pep nodded. “Fitz Frye’s,” he said to Charlotte in a not-so-subtle whisper.

  “Fitz didn’t get a chance to compete, so I thought I’d make his recipe and have you all decide whose is better.” Sherry presented her idea with caution.

  Around her, the faces in the room returned a blank stare.

  “Come on. Don’t give me that look. It’s not always about the competition for me. Fitz’s recipe was also a wrap, and I’m intrigued. Play along. It’ll be fun.”

  Erno shifted in his seat. “A little morbid, but
let’s humor her.”

  “I can hear you, Dad.” Sherry turned her attention to Pep. “Pep, you’re in charge of drink and appetizer orders and refills, while Amber and I get to work in the kitchen. Make sure Addison is well taken care of. Dinner’s in thirty minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pep answered. “Once again, no rest for the weary. Thought I was the guest of honor.”

  Sherry returned to the kitchen. She propped the recipe booklet up against her food processor and went to work re-creating Fitz’s wrap recipe. Her own recipe was committed to her short-term memory. She was confident she’d be able to pull off her Savory Shrimp Lettuce Wraps with Balsamic Merlot Reduction in less than twenty minutes, while simultaneously preparing Fitz’s wraps. With Amber’s help, that was.

  “Shrimp’s all naked,” Amber announced. “Now what?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind making the merlot reduction, that’s the lengthiest part of my recipe.” Sherry gathered a stained and splotched paper from the corner of her work desk. “Here you go. Reduce away.” She thrust the recipe into Amber’s hand.

  “Are you sure you trust me with your baby? What if your award winner becomes the big loser in my incapable hands?”

  “I’m hoping you’ll be inspired to enter another contest when you remember how fun cooking is.”

  Amber took the paper to the cupboard in search of ingredients. “I have no problem with how fun cooking is. My issue is cooking for cash and valuable prizes under extreme pressure, with time limits, and in a strange kitchen. Let alone murderous undertones that creep in when least expected. You’re a different breed than the rest of us.”

  Sherry puffed out her cheeks. “Is the reduction ready yet?”

  Amber let out a shriek. “No! See? The pressure is intense.”

  When the wraps were complete and assembled in presentable perfection on two distinct platters, Sherry and Amber set them down on the dining room table. The evening had cooled off below a comfortable outdoor dining temperature, so Sherry felt it best to eat indoors rather than al fresco. As she opened her mouth to announce dinner, Elvis Purrsley scampered under the table with Chutney and Bean in hot pursuit.