“I forgot to call Eileen. With the news of Vilma clogging my brain, it completely slipped my mind. She’s probably sick with worry about Elvis.”
On cue, there was a pounding at the front door. “Sherry! Sherry!” A muffled voice bellowed through the wooden door. “Elvis Purrsley is gone!”
Sherry raced to open the door. On the other side was her neighbor. Eileen’s hair was tossed about her head, and her cheeks, usually a ghostly pale from avid sunscreen use, were deep red. She could barely catch her breath to form a sentence.
“I was carrying Elvis a few blocks away during another leash lesson and he jumped out of my arms after a chipmunk. I’ve been searching for two hours. I went about a mile up the street and trespassed in everyone’s backyards. No Elvis. I’m sick about it.” Eileen lowered her voice. “I did learn, from what I saw, that I’m the best weeder in the neighborhood, besides you, of course. People should take more pride in their landscaping.”
Sherry motioned Eileen into the house. The cat approached his owner fully invested in a keep-calm-and-carry-on strut.
Eileen’s mouth dropped open. “My baby!” She scooped the cat up into her arms and was greeted with the cool nonchalance of a pet that took more than he gave.
“He appeared at my door. I was about to call you.” Sherry cringed when she heard the footsteps behind her.
She shot a glance to her friends and family, pleading for solidarity in keeping her little white lie under wraps. No one said a word.
“I’m giving up on his leash training. I’m not the cat whisperer after all.”
Addison stepped forward. “Don’t give up. If you have a minute, we can try something. Let’s go outside. Sherry, we’ll be back in a few minutes. Please start without me.”
Eileen kissed Elvis on his forehead and cheered. Sherry could have sworn the cat rolled his eyes. Eileen pulled a folded paper from her back pants pocket. Elvis wriggled around in an awkward pretzel posture when Eileen’s second hand came off his underside. Sherry collected the cat’s leash and handed it to Eileen.
“Oh, and I’ve been meaning to drop this article off from today’s paper. I know you don’t subscribe to the Sun and the Snow Daily.” Eileen clutched the cat tight. “In today’s edition is an article about the cook-off, although mostly about the murder of the contestant, written by a woman named Vilma Pitney. Thanks again for saving my little furry man.” Eileen followed Addison out the door.
Sherry put the paper on the counter and gave it a penetrating glare.
“Aren’t you going to read it?” Pep asked.
“No, not now. Let’s eat. I want to hear everyone’s reviews of the two wraps. Now, more than ever.” Sherry shoved a plate in each of her guest’s hands. “Make sure you take one of each.”
Erno, Pep, Charlotte, and Amber filled their plates with two wraps, cornbread, and asparagus. When everyone except Addison was seated at the table, the feasting began.
“I realize you all know whose wrap is whose, but do your best to be honest and forthright with the truth.” Sherry saw multiple glances exchanged. “Yes, the old Sherry would have never been able to stomach your criticism, but my skin has thickened.”
“No criticism here. Your wrap screams American cuisine at its finest. Comfort food with a flare,” Charlotte offered. “The other wrap is very different and quite wonderful. Crunchy ginger coating on the shrimp, Asian spices, and the Thai aioli is to die for.” Charlotte bit her lower lip. “Shouldn’t have phrased it like that.”
“You said it perfectly,” Amber said. “American elevated, Asian fusion.”
Erno smacked his lips. “If I was a judge at the cook-off, these two would need to go to sudden death overtime to decide the winner.”
“You shouldn’t put it that way either, Dad,” Sherry scolded.
“Knock, knock. Sorry to bother. I want to show you all what Addison taught Elvis in five minutes.” Eileen slipped into the dining room.
All heads swiveled to face the woman. She was holding the leash in one hand and a metal rod with a shrimp tied to it in the other.
“Watch.” Eileen lowered the rod with the shrimp lure, a paw’s length in front of Elvis Purrsley. The cat trotted forward as Eileen guided him in a circle around the table. Heads pivoted to follow the action like the audience at a tennis match.
“Wow, you are the cat whisperer after all.” Sherry started a round of applause. “That handy tool looks like it’s been through the ringer.”
“All thanks to Addison. Have a good night everyone. I’m emotionally drained.”
“Good night, Eileen,” Sherry called after her neighbor. “Take a seat, Addison. I’ll bring you a plate.”
Addison joined the group at the table. “My folding fishing rod came in handy. Lucky, I had it in the car.”
“I think she walked out with it,” laughed Pep.
“No problem. I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need any of my fishing equipment.” Addison’s voice hit a forlorn note. “A second death in a week is definitely someone trying to tell Ginger and me it’s time to change careers. The fishing industry is dead in the water, literally, and so is the Augustin Inn.”
“Maybe cat training is the way to go,” Erno suggested.
Addison eked out a half-smile. “Easy for you to say, sir. Everyone wants a beautiful hand-loomed rug. Your business is secure for generations to come. Got any openings?”
“Isn’t there any way the inn can be saved?” Charlotte wiped a dollop of aioli from the corner of her mouth.
“At the rate Ginger’s falling for Uri, any chance of saving the inn is evaporating quickly. Her heart isn’t in the business anymore.” Addison studied the wrap in his hands. “Am I tasting ginger snaps coating the shrimp? The flavor is amazing. Very unusual.”
Sherry watched Addison handle each of his lettuce wraps. He alternated between the featured recipes, not seeming to prefer one over the other. He didn’t take his gaze off his plate until his hands were empty. Sherry preferred a more expressive diner when it came to judging her food.
“Okay, guys. Is there one wrap you prefer?” Sherry turned her attention to Addison. “Sorry to drag you into this, but I’ve made dinner into a mini cook-off between my wrap recipe and the one Fitz would’ve made.”
“Pep told me you were competitive. Now I believe it. I’ve never been to a dinner that became a cook-off and the guests were the judges.”
Sherry’s face warmed. “I forget that what I consider normal, most people consider odd. You can abstain if you’d like.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Addison laughed. “It’s been such a crummy day. This may be exactly the kind of fun I need. I’ll even go first.”
“Phew. A willing participant. How refreshing,” Erno stated. “You can’t imagine the pressure Sherry’s family is constantly under.”
“Okay, Dad. Take it easy. You’re scaring our gracious guest,” Sherry scolded. “I appreciate your honest opinion, Addison.”
Addison put his hand over his stomach. “Maybe there’s an opening for a taste tester somewhere. I’m liking this job. Sherry, I know yours is the one with the wine sauce. Honestly, it’s the one I like best. Blue ribbon for you.”
“What do you think of Fitz’s?” Sherry asked.
“Everyone loves gingersnaps. My sister was named after the cookie. They are my family’s favorite, and growing up, we always had them in the cookie jar. The inn has them every day on the snack table. We used to make them fresh, but now Ginger buys the boxed variety. But as a coating for shrimp, I can’t wrap my taste buds around that. A touch too sweet for a main course.”
“Why do gingersnaps as a coating sound familiar? Didn’t you have a recipe with lamb meatballs and gingersnaps in a cook-off once?” Erno asked Sherry.
“Dad, I’m amazed you remember my recipes that well. Yes, I did. Wonder if Fitz got his idea from me?” Sherry studied the wraps and considered the idea. What is Fitz trying to say with his over-the-top recipe?
“Ginger and la
mb sounds like a better combo than gingersnaps and shrimp, but I have no clue how way-out you contest cooks like to go,” Addison added. “Mark me down in favor of your wraps, Sherry.”
“I’m for yours, too,” Amber agreed. “Fitz’s are good, but I’m not used to the flavor combination he used. I do love Asian flavors and shrimp, though. He lost me with the abundance of sweetness.”
Pep and Charlotte sat up straighter. They raised their hands together. “It was close, because Charlotte’s craving sweets at the moment, but we swung over to Sherry’s wraps at the last minute. By the way, Charlotte didn’t try the shrimp. She pulled them out.”
“I still have no stomach for seafood. But I got all the flavors in Fitz’s wrap contents. Delicious.”
Sherry watched Pep rub his palms together. “Sherry, I have something to confess.”
“Not sure I’m ready.” Her shoulders rose toward her ears. “What is it?”
“Detective Bease said I was observed sticking my hand in the water below the ice sculpture, presumably to measure the depth in preparation for drowning my victim.”
“Yes, I know.”
“What I couldn’t say was I used the water to rid my hands of the shrimp smell. I knew Charlotte couldn’t tolerate seafood yet, and I made a snap decision to dip my hand in for a quick cleanup. I couldn’t say my reasoning at the time. There, more truth.”
“You’re so romantic to do that for me,” Charlotte said.
“Speaking of Fitz, does anyone think whoever is responsible for killing Fitz was behind Vilma’s murder?” Amber asked.
Sherry nodded. “I think there’s a good chance the same person killed twice.”
“How worried should Sherry be?” Charlotte threw the question out to the table. “I mean, someone tracked her to that restaurant, trashed her car, and nearly crushed her and Ginger in the corn maze.”
“Plenty worried,” Erno said. “You need to find the killer, Sherry, before he finds you.”
“I’m trying, Dad,” Sherry said. “What’s your vote? You’re last up. Sweet ginger or savory American.”
“Your wraps, of course, sweetie.” Erno pointed his finger toward the last bite of lettuce wrap on his plate. “This one’s a winner.”
Sherry sighed. “That’s Fitz’s, Dad. There’s no merlot sauce on top. That’s aioli.”
Erno popped the last bite in his mouth. Despite his mouth being full, he faced Pep. “We’re having a daughter, prepare yourself for always being wrong.”
Chapter 25
“Thank you so much for bringing everything we needed for dinner.” Sherry patted Addison on the back and held the door open for him. “Amber, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon at the store. Thank you so much for all your help tonight. You’re the best. In the morning, I have a few loose ends to tie up, including closing out the latest edition of the newsletter as soon as I receive Patti’s cook-off recap. I’m aiming for one o’clock.”
Amber blew a kiss to Pep and Charlotte. “Hope to see you both very soon with a plus one. Thanks again, Sherry.” She lifted Bean off the floor and left the house.
“Remember, Amber. Pep’s all yours if this doesn’t work out,” Charlotte called after her.
Sherry shut the door and looked at her three remaining guests. “Do you guys have time to take a look at the article Eileen dropped off?”
“Of course. Do you have a few more minutes in you, Dad?” Pep asked.
“Barely,” Erno replied. “I’m at your mercy, since you’re my ride home.”
Erno, Pep, and Charlotte each took a seat on the living room couch.
Sherry retrieved the article from the kitchen and sat across from her family in the comfy armchair. She unfolded the paper. “Vilma titled the article, ‘Murder Well Done—Cook Offed.’ Very clever.” Sherry browsed the article, mumbling words aloud every so often. When she reached the end, she looked up. Not until then did she realize everyone was staring at her, patiently waiting for any word of the content.
“Well?” Pep prompted. “We’re holding our collective breath. What does it say?”
“Vilma told the tale from soup to nuts. She starts with the contestants prepping for their entry into the contest. Recipe trials and errors. How the entrants came up with their recipe creations. Nothing out of the norm for cook-off articles. She goes on to describe Fitz’s dish in detail. I remember Patti said Vilma had interviewed Fitz at The Hunger Dames.”
“Interesting,” Pep commented. “Did she give any detail about Frye’s inspiration for his shrimp wraps?”
Sherry referred back to the paper. “Her exact words are, ‘going into the cook-off with the sole purpose of maintaining dominance over his worthiest rival, Fitz Frye came up with a shrimp wrap he felt would best represent his talents in the kitchen. He took a chance on a unique flavor combination for his crunchy shrimp coating, hoping to catch the eye of his opponent. He couldn’t wait to see how the judges would receive the sweet and briny blend.’”
“Ironically, it probably would have been the coating that did him in. If we didn’t think highly of it, would the judges have been dramatically different in their opinions?” Charlotte asked.
“Interesting way of putting that. The coating did him in.” Sherry glanced at the ceiling while she pondered Charlotte’s remark. “The coating was certainly what made his recipe unique.”
“What else did the article say?” Erno put his hand up to his mouth to mask a yawn.
Sherry brought her focus back down to the paper. “She described the cook-off fairly accurately. She was harsh on the Shrimply Amazing seafood provided. Called it low quality. Ouch! A dig aimed solely at Uri, no doubt. She couldn’t get the fishhook planted in his room. Maybe her words were plan B. I don’t think she considered him a suspect. She may have been a scorned lover, though. Vilma did a good job of highlighting the empty station where Fitz would have cooked and emphasized how no contestant realized he was missing because they were fixated on their own work for two straight hours. She’s right about that fact. Even if he was murdered up on the boardwalk during the cook-off, I’m not sure I would have noticed.”
“Laser focused,” Pep said.
“Yep.” Sherry nodded.
“Beyond the cook-off, what did she say about the murder? Does she reveal her choice of suspect?”
“Not only does she reveal the suspect, she goes a step further.”
“Don’t keep us in suspense any longer,” Erno cried out.
“Remember Vilma had me chasing Lyman, Roe, and Uri? What was she having me do all that chasing for, when, it turns out, none of them was her actual suspect? In a surprise twist, she writes in this article, ‘the killer is the brother of one of the best cooks in the county. This was the killer’s chance to serve up a warm helping of vengeance because he didn’t want to see his sister’s reputation get burned.’”
“That’s an intriguing storyline. You have to admit.” Erno nodded.
Sherry side-eyed her father. “Dad. How can you say that? She’s talking about Pep. How can she put that story out there when it’s not the truth?”
“Did she specifically name names?” Erno asked.
“No, but you’d have to be an idiot to not know who she means. If she were still alive, our plan to have her think I feared Pep might be guilty would have backfired, because she had already submitted the article. She had some nerve telling me not to worry about Pep.” Sherry threw up her hands. The paper went airborne before floating back down to the floor. “She’s fabricated the ending. The thing is, there’s no real ending. Not yet, anyway. She can’t do this. It sheds a terrible light on Pep, cook-offs, the Augustin Inn, and all the dedication that goes into the hobby I love so much.”
“Have you watched the news or read the headlines recently?” Pep asked. “News is served up with sides of inaccuracy, speculation, and mistruths all day long. Vilma got her story sold, didn’t she? That’s what she was after, I suppose, minus the professional integrity.”
“And isn’t it ironic
there’s a good chance whoever did Fitz in did her in as well? If she’d been correct—” Charlotte began.
“And stayed alive,” Erno added.
“—she’d have caught her own potential murderer,” Charlotte said.
“Too little too late,” Erno said.
Sherry collected the papers off the floor. “Unfortunately, the mystery she crafted makes you look guilty, Pep. You’d have every reason to make her pay, too, for exposing you as the killer, had you actually done the killing. Anyone who reads her words has every reason to go there.”
“This might put a crimp in my plans to leave tomorrow,” Pep told Charlotte. “If I leave town, that’s one more strike against me.” He studied his pregnant partner. “Can we stay one more day?”
“Please stay here, you two,” Sherry insisted. “I have plenty of room. No more secret trips between here and the inn.”
“I was hoping you’d suggest that,” Charlotte admitted. “But would you mind picking up my clothes and bathroom items, Pep? I’d go, but I’m getting so sleepy after all that good food.”
Erno raised his hand. “Me, too.”
“Come in here, Charlotte, and take a seat. Put your feet up.” Sherry led the way into the living room. She swept her arm across the sofa and fluffed up the pillows. “Pep, I’ll take you. I think we should have a word with Ginger.”
Erno raised his hand. “Can someone give me a ride home?”
“Of course,” Sherry laughed.
Pep put his arm around Charlotte and helped her settle into the puffy cushions.
“Time’s running out. If whoever did it has struck twice, what’s to stop him or her from striking again? If the killer’s seen this article, he or she may feel safe, and that’s a recipe for a slipup,” Charlotte pointed out.
“You’re beginning to think like a real investigator, baby,” Pep said.
“Thanks, I think.” Charlotte smiled slyly. She patted the cushion next to her. Chutney jumped up and curled into a ball. “I’ll hang here with Chutney.”
Eat, Drink and Be Wary Page 20