A Catered Thanksgiving
Read A Catered Thanksgiving Online
Authors: Isis Crawford
A CATERED MURDER
A CATERED WEDDING
A CATERED CHRISTMAS
A CATERED VALENTINE'S DAY
A CATERED HALLOWEEN
A CATERED BIRTHDAY PARTY
A CATERED THANKSGIVING
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
A Mystery with Recipes
ISIS CRAWFORD
KENSINGTON BOOKS
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
To Anna Jae and Mila Isabella
The world is a better place because you're in it.
To DJM, for his great ideas and his willingness to share them, and to Larry, for reading my work and sharing his opinions. Don't know what I'd do without you guys.
I
t was two days before Thanksgiving, and five members of the Field family were huddled around the fireplace in the study off of the living room. It was a dismal space. The furniture they were sitting on, cheap to begin with, was literally coming apart at the seams, while the walls of the study were covered with a bamboo-textured wallpaper that had turned an unappetizing shade of yellow over the years.
A flickering overhead light did little to dispel the gloom of the late November afternoon. Each one in the room was wearing his or her coat. Most had wool scarves wound around their necks. Two of the people were wearing gloves.
“It's colder in here than it is outside,” Lexus, Monty Field's blond trophy wife of three years, complained.
“I'm sure it's in the fifties,” Melissa, Field's daughter from his first marriage, said. She was four years younger than Lexus, thirty pounds heavier, and not half as attractive.
Perceval, Field's older brother, whipped out the leather-covered temperature gauge he'd taken to carrying around and consulted it. “It's fifty-one, to be precise,” he told everyone.
Melissa buried her chin in the neck of the sweater she had on over her nurse's uniform. “We should turn up the thermostat,” she said.
“At least you have your fat to keep you warm, Melissa,” Lexus said.
“Lexus!” Ralph, Field's younger brother, exclaimed.
Lexus turned to Ralph. “I'm not saying that in a bad way,” she told him. “Everyone knows fat people are warmer. Right now I envy Melissa.”
Two red spots grew on Melissa's cheeks. “That's good,” she spat out, “because personally I wouldn't want to look like a walking skeleton.”
Lexus fluffed her hair out. “I like being lean, Melissa.”
Melissa sniffed. “Is that what you're calling it? I call it bulimia. Such an attractive form of behavior. We had two people in the ER room with that this week. Rotted their teeth right out of their mouths.”
Ralph interrupted. “Ladies, please,” he said. “Let's get down to more important matters.” He gestured to the thermostat on the far wall, encased in a heavy plastic box. “Do you have the key to the lockbox?”
“I wish,” Melissa said. “You know Dad always keeps it on him.”
Ralph shook his head. His skin looked bluish in the cold. “My brother is pathologically cheap. He always has been, always will be.”
“Except when it comes to his art,” Lexus said bitterly as she fingered the black down coat she was wearing. It made her look at least twenty pounds heavier. She'd seen a really nice one at Barneys, but Monty had said it was ridiculous to spend money on something like that when she could get one at Marshalls for one-thirtieth of the price. He didn't understand that she deserved to look good. “Screw the American Impressionists.”
“I mean, look at this furniture,” Ralph continued, ignoring Lexus's comment. He indicated the mishmash of sofas and chairs scattered around the room. “It looks as if it comes from the Salvation Army.”
“Actually, Dad got those three chairs off the street,” Melissa volunteered, indicating the plaid rockers near the bookcase. “It was so embarrassing. He made me help him put them in the car. I said, âDad, what are you doing?' And he said, âWe need chairs and no one is going to see them except the family, so why waste money when there's something that's perfectly good right here?'”
“Yes, why waste money on us?” Perceval said. “I mean, for all we know, the chairs could be harboring roaches or mice.” His face took on an expression of horror. “Or bedbugs.”
Ralph unwrapped a cough drop and put it in his mouth. “It's too cold for bugs.”
Geoff, Field's son, shivered as he cursed himself for forgetting to pack his long underwear. “The hell with the furniture,” he said. “At least we should be able to start a fire.”
“That would mean we'd need wood, and the old man would never pay for that,” Melissa said.
“We could always burn the furniture,” Geoff suggested. “I vote for starting with the purple club chair over in the corner.”
“The chimney hasn't been cleaned. We'd just smoke ourselves out.” Lexus wrapped her coat more tightly around her. It was like wearing a sleeping bag, for heaven's sake. She should be wearing ermine or mink at the very least. Monty had promised her a full-length fur coat before he'd married her. But, afterward it was like he'd forgotten he'd ever said anything like that. “This is ridiculous,” Lexus said.
“I agree,” Perceval replied. He looked at his temperature gauge again. “We're down to fifty. I mean, we should count for something, right?”
“This is just wrong,” Lexus said. “People in the projects are warmer than we are.”
“My house, my rules,” Geoff said, repeating his father's mantra. “If you don't like them, get out.”
“At least you don't live here,” Lexus said to him as she surveyed the room. Why had she thought she could get Monty to change?
Delusional
was the word that came to mind. Of course, he had bought her a three-carat diamond engagement ring, but that was when he was courting her. And he had furnished her bedroom completely to her specifications. But again, that was premarriage. She hadn't realized at the time that everything he did, he did for show.
“Thank God, I don't,” Geoff replied, remembering the lock on the refrigerator door. There'd been no between-meal eating in his father's house! When he was seven, he'd taken a bowl of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer without permission and been confined to his room for two days. His therapist said that was why he had weight issues. Then Geoff added, “I hate family holidays.”
“I think we all do,” Perceval said as he rubbed his hands together to keep his circulation going.
“Then why are we here?” Melissa asked.
“Don't be stupid,” Geoff said. He started humming “Money Makes the World Go Round.”
“Stop it,” Melissa told him.
Geoff put on an innocent expression. “Why? What am I doing?”
“Stop humming that song.”
“You know what they say,” Geoff retorted. “If the shoe fits, wear it.”
“That is completely unfair,” Melissa told him.
“You really think no one knows what's going on?” Geoff demanded of his sister.
Melissa shook her head. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Don't be so disingenuous,” Lexus said to her stepdaughter.
Perceval snickered. “Disingenuous. That's a big word for you, Lexus. Is that the word of the day on your calendar?”
Lexus glared at him. “What's wrong with improving oneself?”
“Nothing. I just thought your attempts at self-improvement centered around buying the latest lipstick.”
“There's no need to be unpleasant, Perceval.”
“I wasn't being unpleasant, Lexus. I was being factual.”
“You know,” Ralph said as he glanced at himself in the mirror to make sure he'd buttoned his shirt properly, “I think we should stop bickering. My brother likes to set us against each other. We only play into his hands when we do.”
Perceval sighed. “You're right. Let's face it, some people add nothing to the world. In fact, they take things away, and I'm sorry to say that my brother is one of those people.”
“What kind of things?” Lexus asked. “You mean like stockpiling rice?”
Perceval managed to keep from rolling his eyes. “No. I'm talking about intangible things, like pleasure and good feelings. I'm talking about people who spread negative energy everywhere they go.”
“The world would certainly be a better place without my dad,” Geoff observed, speaking with feeling. “That's for sure.”
“I agree,” Ralph said. “You might say that putting him out of his misery would be a blessing. He's miserable, so he wants everyone else to be miserable, too. When I think about it, I can't remember my brother ever smiling. I don't remember him ever spending a single penny if he didn't have to. At least not on creature comforts. He's either saved his money or invested it. Basically, he's always been a cheap son of a bitch.”
“Well, it must agree with him,” Lexus informed them. “Because he just had a checkup and he's in great shape. He told me yesterday his blood pressure is lower than mine. I bet he'll live to be a hundred.” She wound her scarf more tightly around her neck before burying her hands in her coat pockets. “God. Another thirty-five years. I'm not sure I can do that. No. Let me rephrase. I know I can't do that.”
Melissa snorted. “That's so unfair. I mean, he slathers mayo on everything and he doesn't get more than four or five hours a night sleep. I thought he'd have heart disease or some other old person thing by now.”
“Thanks,” Perceval and Ralph said simultaneously since each one had had his arteries roto-rooted out in the past year.
“Cheer up,” Perceval said. “Maybe he'll get hit by a car.”
“Or blown up,” Ralph added. “A little gunpowder is a wonderful thing. Maybe he'll have an accident down at the bunker.”
Geoff laughed. “We certainly have enough of that stuff down there. A couple of Roman candles go off at the right time and it's good-bye, Monty.”
“Yeah,” Ralph said. “We could blow this whole place to kingdom come if we wanted to. A little gunpowder here, a switch there, and kerblewy.” Ralph laughed. “All gone.”
“But we don't,” Lexus snapped.
“Of course we don't,” Perceval replied. “We wouldn't want to hurt the cat.”
“Or the art collection,” said Ralph. “That's worth, what? Thirty million?”
“Forty,” Geoff said, “and that's leaving out the blue and white Chinese pottery collection. That's another two mil right there.”
“Well, I think that's a disgusting way to talk,” Melissa said.
“So you don't want him dead?” Geoff asked her.
Melissa didn't say anything.
“You don't think he deserves to die after what he did to Mom?” Geoff asked.
Melissa stiffened. “I thought we agreed not to talk about that.”
“You're right. I'm sorry.” Geoff leaned forward and caught her gaze. “But come on, sis, tell the truth for once in your life. Don't you want your inheritance?”
Melissa studied one of the posters on the wall. It was a cheap reproduction of
Nighthawks.
“Well, yes, of course I do,” she finally admitted. “But I'm not going to do anything bad for it.”
“Jeez, neither am I,” Geoff said. “You know I'm not a hands-on type of person.” He leaned back in his chair. “No, what we should all do is pool our money together and hire a hit man. It would be worth it. I mean, how much could it cost? Ten thousand? And that would be if we got a top-of-the-line one.”
Melissa scowled. “That's really not funny.”
Geoff held up his hands. “I was kidding. Why do you always have to take everything so seriously?”
Melissa sniffed. “Because I never know whether you're joking or not.”
“Well, I was,” Geoff said.
Perceval sneezed. “No one is doing anything to anybody,” he said after he'd wiped his nose. “We may want to, but we won't.”
Ralph leaned forward, crossed his arms over his chest, and hugged himself. “Of course we won't,” he said. “Too high a probability of being caught. We'd be the primary suspects, right? It's always cherchez the money.”
Perceval corrected him. “No, Ralph. It's cherchez la femme and follow the money.”
“Whatever, Perceval.”
A deep silence fell over the group. A moment later Perceval got up.
“I don't know about you,” he said, “but I'm trundling off to bed.”
“Are you sick?” Lexus asked.
“Why do you ask?” Perceval replied.
Lexus put her coat collar up. “Because it's three in the afternoon.”
“True,” Perceval said. “But my bed happens to be the warmest place in the house at the moment. It's probably the cold that's making everyone's thoughts turn homicidal.”
“I thought it was heat that was supposed to turn people into crazed lunatics,” Ralph said.
Perceval shrugged. “Both extremes are equally unpleasant.”
“Let's look on the bright side,” Geoff said.
Perceval cocked an eyebrow. “And that would be?”
“Well, at least we don't have to endure Alma's cooking anymore,” Geoff said. “At least, we're going to have a decent Thanksgiving dinner.”
“What happened to Alma, anyway?” Perceval asked Lexus. “When I asked Monty, he pretended he hadn't heard me and walked away.”
Lexus stood up and stretched. “The INS came and scooped her up. Isn't that right, Melissa?”
Melissa nodded. “It was terrible.”
“But why now?” Ralph asked. “She's been here forever.”
Lexus shrugged. “Obviously someone called.”
“But who?” Perceval asked. “She never goes out.”
Melissa lowered her voice. “I think it was my dad.”
Everyone turned to her.
“You're kidding,” Geoff said.
Melissa shook her head. “I overheard him yelling at her about taking money that didn't belong to her. He was really, really angry.”
Perceval patted his hair down. “I could see my brother calling.”
“Unfortunately, so can I,” Ralph agreed. “What happened to her kid?”
“Roberto?” Melissa replied. “I think he's staying with some relatives or something like that.”
Ralph moved his feet up and down to get the circulation going in them. “Monty's course of action was entirely unnecessary,” he announced in a tone of voice that left no doubt about his opinion on the matter. “But, then, he's never been one to use a firecracker if he can use a bottle rocket to get the job done.”
“Well,” Perceval remarked while he rubbed his hands together, “not to state the obvious, but compassion has never been one of our dear brother's finer virtues.”