Dying for Dinner Rolls (2 page)

Li
quid Lies
: Novel
(Mystery, Thriller, Suspense)

Christmas Corpse Caper
: Short Story
(Mystery/Romance: Prequel to Liquid Lies)

Chubby Chicks Club: Cozy Southern Mystery Series

Dying For Dinner Rolls
:
Book One
Murderous Muffins:
Book Two

Killing with Kings:
Book Three

Homicide by Hamlet:
Book Four

Thomson Twins Tales: Chubby Chicks Club Spinoff

Picture N
ot Perfect
:
Volume One YA Short Story (Mystery/Sweet Romance)
Turnab
out Twist
: Volume Two YA Short Story (Sweet Romance)
Treat or Trick
: Volume Three YA Short Story (Suspense)

In memory of my “C
ity Grandma” Anna Donna Siminuk Piwowar-a character in the tenth degree. When she dressed up she would wear dyed fabric pumps to coordinate with her chiffon dresses-one in every color and always accessorized with rhinestone jewelry. For twenty years, she waitressed at the State Street Chicago Marshall Field’s restaurant, making friends with all who stopped by. Anna and her two sisters Helen Olsen and Mary Schmaus would lip sync and dance to the Andrews Sisters’ records. They were fabulous entertainment at parties. Anna believed that all men were frogs (no matter how much you kiss them, no prince would ever materialize) and a woman only had to pick the nicest frog. She never got a chance to meet my husband Tom, but I know she would agree that I followed her advice.

“When are you due, sweetie?” a petite, gray-haired lady asked me as I bagged her groceries.

“Um, I’m not…” I looked down at my shirted belly.

Andrew, my husband, handed the customer her credit card slip and chuckled. “If she’s pregnant, she’s going to have some explaining to do.”

The lady signed the slip and passed it back to Andrew. “Is that so?”

“Cat’s my wife.” Andrew gave the grocery bag to her. “After two sets of twins, I visited the urologist.”

I jabbed Andrew in his side. Sometimes he had no filter on his brain.

“Cat?” the lady asked.

“Catherine Alice Thomson,” I replied. “Everyone calls me Cat.”

The lady took her bag and turned to me. “Sorry I implied you’re—”

“Fat?” I asked.

“Oh no, dear. You couldn’t be more than a hundred pounds.” The lady waved her hand. “And I just love this health food store. It’s so lovely.”

“Thank you,” I called after her as she exited the store. I smoothed down the poufs in the shirt. “That’s it. I have to stop wearing this billowy top even though it’s all the rage. This style only looks good on six-foot-tall, rail-thin models, not normal-sized people like me.”

Andrew kissed the top of my head. “You’re glowing. That’s what I’m sure she meant. And tasty, too.”

“Huh?” I asked.

He grabbed a lettuce leaf stuck to my bright yellow apron that had our store’s name on it: “Sunshine Market.” The name came from the song, “You Are My Sunshine,” which was my parents’ wedding song.

Andrew asked, “Cat, can you bag?”

“No problem.” I tucked my shoulder-length, black hair behind my ears and got to work.

A few moments later, a police officer walked past our store and nodded to Andrew and me.

I turned to Andrew. “You know, the police still haven’t reopened the case about that night. And they just hired a few new officers. Maybe they could look into it. You know. New eyes on the case?”

Andrew knew what that night meant—the night my dad was killed. Actually, all of my friends knew what I meant when I said that night. Two months ago, while my dad worked late and alone at the store, he’d been shot.

Since my father’s death, Andrew, knowing how much work there would be once my dad died, had decided to quit his job as an architect to help my mom and me run the family business. My mom still did the bookkeeping and accounting for our Savannah, Georgia, organic health food store.

I’d worked at the store practically my entire life. Now, though, I found it difficult to spend a lot of time there. Memories of my dad were tucked away on every wooden shelf lining the walls and on every inch of reclaimed heart of pine floor I stepped upon. Sometimes I thought I smelled his Old Spice cologne lingering in the air.

As an only child, I was hit hard by my dad’s death. My mom still grieved, saying she would never love another human being as much as she’d loved my father. Although she mourned, she rolled up her sleeves and got back to work. She said she had to honor her husband’s store by keeping it successful.

Work distracted my mom from the loss of her husband. Whereas my grief manifested in the form of my determination to catch his killer.

Andrew rang a customer’s groceries, the beep sounding as each item crossed the scanner.

A few moments later, the customer left.

Andrew turned toward me. “Honey, I know how much this hurts you, but I keep telling you the police did all they could. What happened to your dad was a horrible tragedy.”

“You know I can’t let go until I have answers.”

“Do what you need to do. I’ll support you, no matter what. But I’m afraid you’ll just keep opening old wounds.”

“It happened two months ago, not two years. The wounds are not that old. Plus, the killer could still be lurking around.”

“You’re safe now,” Andrew said. “We’ll catch anyone doing anything with the new surveillance cameras and security system.”

“I just wish we’d had all of that earlier. Maybe that night wouldn’t have happened. He’d still be alive.”

Andrew gave me a hug. “I wish he were still here, too.”

“I keep thinking that maybe if I’d stayed late and worked with him, rather than him closing the store by himself, it wouldn’t have happened.” I took a deep breath, replaying the ‘what-if’s’ in my head as I had a million times already. Thinking that somehow I could undo the events of that night, and he’d still be alive.

Andrew rang up another customer. Then he offered the customer a pen to sign the credit card slip, but the customer held up a purple pen that he already had to use.

A purple-inked crossword puzzle had been found under my dad’s body. And there’d been no purple pen in sight in the store. Additionally, he never did the crossword. Several blocks were filled in spelling “sweet revenge,” which hadn’t seemed relevant to any clue.

But that puzzle pointed to my dad’s murderer. I just knew it. Although the police had determined, after a brief investigation, that my father’s death was due to a burglary gone bad. Not me. I hung on to the crossword puzzle as the sole lead to the killer.

After the customer left, I jabbed Andrew in the side. “Purple pen.”

Andrew shook his head and sighed. “See? You’re going to drive yourself and, for that matter, me crazy. Since that night you’ve hovered over every person you see doing a crossword puzzle. You think that everyone with a purple pen is a suspect. You need to let it go.”

But I couldn’t let it go. My sense of justice prevailed over reason. Not only because the killer had taken away my dad, but what if he intended to harm other people in my life? I felt that I had to keep vigil to protect my loved ones.

I glanced at the framed picture near the register. It showed my mom and dad, his arm over her shoulder, both of them smiling at the photographer. Their striking difference—my tall father’s light complexion and blond hair and my short mom’s dark, Asian coloring—never bothered them.

My mom, Yunni, walked over to me and gave me a hug. “You restock produce now. We got new delivery.” Yunni tapped her thumb with mine.

She still spoke in half-broken English as she was born in Korea. My American dad had met her forty-five years ago while he was in the service. She stands about four feet ten inches tall with heels and has thick, black hair cut short in layers, big brown eyes, and a smile that takes up half her face. My thick hair is like hers, but I look more like my father, who was born to Welsh and Irish parents.

Tapping our thumbs together was our private signal connecting us to my dad. My dad had two wedding bands that he’d alternated wearing, depending on his mood. When he was in his Sunday-best mood, his choice was the platinum band with the diamonds, which my mom now had on her thumb, and I wore the plain gold band that he favored when he felt casual. Since my dad had a much thicker ring finger than my mom and me, his wedding bands fit on our thumbs.

I could’ve worn the ring on a chain around my neck, but I couldn’t stand necklaces or anything around my neck.

“What happened to ‘Hi, honey, how are you?’” I kissed my mom on top of her head.

She mumbled something in Korean and laughed. Sometimes I wished she’d taught me Korean, like she’s taught my children.

“We too busy for that, you know. Have too much of the work to do.” Yunni waved her hands at me as if shooing away flies. “Go now. Get to work.”

“This could be considered child abuse or could be breaking some sort of child labor law,” I joked.

“You adult, no child. No law broke.” She steered me into the back room. “Oh, and remember, I take girls to Korea soon, right?”

“That is still under discussion.”

“Have tickets. All planned. They go like their brothers did at their age. Lots of family to see in my home country. Andrew and you come with, too. All worked out. You don’t worry about that now. Go to do your job.”

I unloaded a crate of organic fruits and vegetables. Then my eighty-eight-year-old paternal Welsh grandfather, who we called Tadcu, entered the room. “Hey, chickadee, don’t you look like a peach today.”

“Thanks, Tadcu, you’re looking mighty spiffy, too.”

He wore a seersucker blazer over a white linen shirt and had on a navy blue bow tie, which matched his slacks. His white leather shoes were without a scuffmark. He had thick, white hair and deep blue eyes. It’d nearly killed him to lose his only child, my father. I imagined that, had my dad lived, he’d age as gracefully as his father.

Tadcu now thought it was his responsibility to take care of Yunni and me.

“Are you going anywhere special today?” Using a screwdriver, I pried a crate open.

“I’m taking Miss Annie Mae out to lunch.” He winked. “I hope I get lucky.”

“Jeez, you men are all the same. One-track minds.”

“Two-track mind. Rugby is the other one.” He picked an apple from the crate I’d opened. “Better yet, if I can die while making love to a beautiful lady with Rugby on the television in the bedroom, that would be heaven.”

Picturing Tadcu making love, especially with Annie Mae—one of my closest friends—made my brain ache and eyes sting. But he’d been widowed over ten years, so I guess he should be out there again dating. That still didn’t prevent it from feeling weird.

I switched the topic. “Where are you taking her for lunch?”

“The DeSoto Hilton. They have a nice little lunch buffet.” Tadcu pocketed the apple. “It’s a hotel, too, so if things go well, we can get a room. I better grab something for protection.”

“Please tell me you’re getting an umbrella, since we’ve had so much rain, and not referring to anything else.”

“Why, of course.” Tadcu slid the closet door open and pulled out an umbrella. “I’m feeling lucky.”

“Enough.” I directed Tadcu out of the storeroom. I called out, half laughing, to my husband, “Can you please do something with him?”

“Not my turn,” Andrew called back.

After Tadcu left, I called José, my police officer friend.

José answered his phone on the first ring. “Hey, Cat, what can I do for you?”

“You know I hate to bother you. But can you see if one of your new hires would consider reopening the case about that night,” I said. “If there are new eyes on it, maybe they’ll find something that everyone else missed. Please?”

“I’ll see what I can do. Catch ya later tonight.” He clicked off.

I’d only have closure and feel that my family was safe if the killer was behind bars. Making sure this happened became my mission.

Six-foot-four-inch José strode into Bezu’s dining room, our location for our meeting of the Chubby Chicks Club. José folded himself into a chair and then, without any greeting, said, “So I’m called to Ardsley Park because it’s flooded again. This lady thinks that her dog, Pup Diddy, is still in her car parked in front of her house. All I saw in the water was the car’s roof; I couldn’t see in any windows. So in my black wet suit, I dive under this murky, brown, debris-ridden filth trying to smash the car window. After a few minutes, I emerge covered in Spanish moss and God knows what else, looking like the creature from the black lagoon. Just then, the lady, standing on her porch, screams over to me, ‘Pup Diddy is upstairs sleeping.’ So I guess you can say my day as one of Savannah’s finest went as usual.”

Bezu shook her blonde head and poured José a glass of iced tea. We all called her Bezu, which was short for Barbara Elizabeth Susan. “Y’all know that the flooding has been a problem for years. The city needs to take care of it once and for all.”

“When pigs fly.” Annie Mae, a sixty-five-year-old African-American woman, shoved her eyeglasses up on her short, wide nose. Her brown eyes twinkled behind the glass. Her round face then filled with a smile accentuated by full red lips. “The city is like Armstrong University. In the three decades I taught there, no one knew what change meant. Except for the extra coins in one’s pocket.”

“Maybe we don’t want to adjust too much for fear of losing our Savannah charm,” added Bezu, the southern belle of the group.

“Lose something, that’s for sure.” José resembled, and often was mistaken for, the wrestler/actor Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. He was a bomb squad detective who never had fewer than a dozen female admirers pining for his attention. They didn’t stand a chance. José preferred males.

My cell buzzed, indicating a message. I read it. “Lucy’s running a little late but will be here soon.”

José sat up straight. “So, what’s going on with the rest of you?”

Annie Mae stirred a packet of raw sugar into her tea. “Trying to keep out of trouble now that I’m retired. If anyone’s interested in joining me, I just started taking water aerobics at the aquatic center Monday and Wednesday mornings at eight.”

“No water aerobics for me,” José replied. “Gotta save the city.”

“Me, either. After the boys catch the bus, I take the girls to school then help Andrew and my mom at the store,” I added. “Otherwise, it sounds like fun. I enjoy taking classes when I have time. They keep me well rounded.”

“And I just loved the self-defense class we all met at a couple of years back. We need to do something like that again,” Bezu said.

José pointed to his chest. “Next month I’m teaching another one, if you know anyone who might be interested.”

“You taught me how to kick some butt, except I can barely move mine anymore. That’s why I’m doing the water aerobics.” Annie Mae patted her full figure and then reached for a chunk of cheese and a cracker on the doily-covered silver platter set in the middle of the dining room table. “Got to get in shape. I’m a little too well rounded.”

“Bless your heart, you always make me laugh,” Bezu said to Annie Mae. “You really are the life of this little group.”

“Group of misfits.” José grinned.

“Misfits? That’s why we didn’t let you name the group. You’d come up with some lame name. Not as clever as mine: “The Chubby Chicks Club.” Annie Mae took a bite of cracker.

“Still don’t get that, considering we’re not all chicks, nor are we all chubby.” José squeezed a lemon slice into his glass.

“Hey, I’m both chubby and a chick. Plus, I love the alliteration.” Annie Mae took a sip of tea.

“Me, too. I think our name is fun.” I plopped a chunk of cheese into my mouth. “Although, maybe not so much the chubby part, since today a customer thought I was pregnant.”

“Don’t mind them. You look great. I can’t imagine having children, let alone four like you did.” Bezu glanced at her long, thin, manicured fingers.

We all gathered a few times a month around Bezu’s dining room table in her three-story Georgian house on Forsyth Park. Soon after General Oglethorpe had created the city of Savannah, Bezu’s family, the Gordons, owned half of it. After the Great Depression, a recession, and some unlucky gambling, all that remained of the family fortune was the timeworn mansion.

In the center of the dining room sat a mahogany table with eight matching high-back, carved chairs. An antique sideboard and a china cabinet were on opposite walls. The washed-out heart pine floors were covered with a thick, dark, multicolored oriental rug. From the twelve-foot ceiling, a three-tiered, dusty crystal chandelier hung over the center of the table.

“I love you all. I can’t imagine not having you in my life. Mostly after my dad…” I swallowed as I held back a tear. They’d brought me so much support and comfort after my dad was killed.

“Yes, darling, we’ve been together for good times and bad. Thankfully, way more good.” Bezu reached over and held my hand.

Through the dining room window, the late afternoon sun shone on Bezu, making her blonde hair and pale skin almost translucent. She smelled of rosewater.

“Here’s to more good times.” Annie Mae lifted her glass in a toast.

We all followed suit and clinked our glasses together.

Just then, the door opened, and a short Asian man walked past the dining room, humming what sounded like Bruno Mars’s song “Locked out of Heaven.” He made his way up the stairs.

José jumped out of his chair, his hand on his hip over his gun. “Do you know him?”

“Calm down.” Bezu ran over to José. “Don’t shoot the poor man.”

José slowly sat down, still eyeing the stairwell.

“Who is he?” I asked Bezu.

“Um. He’s a relative.” Bezu looked at the ceiling. “Mr. Phong. He’s visiting me for a spell.”

“He doesn’t look like any relative of yours,” Annie Mae said. “I mean, your whole family is born and bred Deep South. He’s Eastern. Far East.”

Bezu fidgeted with her pearl necklace. “He’s the brother-in-law of my second cousin twice removed.”

“Why do you call him Mr. Phong?” José asked. “After all, he is a relative. Sort of.”

Then we heard footsteps again, and Mr. Phong appeared in the doorway.

Bezu walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Phong, I’d like you to meet José, Annie Mae, and Cat. They are dear friends of mine.”

“Hey, I just met you, and me is crazy, but call my number maybe.” Mr. Phong smiled, showing crooked white teeth. His thin black hair fell on his slightly wrinkled forehead. I figured that he was in his late sixties. His brown tweed suit looked one size too big for him. He nodded his head like a bobblehead toy.

“What the heck?” Annie Mae said. “I’m not giving a stranger my number.”

I interrupted Annie Mae. “Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Phong.”

“Hey.” José nodded his head toward Mr. Phong.

“Why does he want my number?” Annie Mae said to Bezu.

“He doesn’t. He’s learning English by listening to the radio. Mainly pop songs. That was sort of the lyrics to Carly Rae Jepson’s song.” Bezu quickly guided Mr. Phong to the door as he sang Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance.”

When Bezu returned, Annie Mae said, “You sure have had a lot of relatives visit lately. And they stay such a long time.”

“Everyone and anyone who is remotely related to me finds out I live in this gorgeous city and have a big house to stay in, and, well, you know how that goes.” Bezu sat down.

“Humph.” Annie Mae raised an eyebrow.

“So what’s going on with your family, Cat?” José stretched his long legs and clasped his hands behind his head, showing off well-developed muscles.

“Before I forget, as part of their senior high school project, Timmy and Teddy want to job-shadow you. They think it’ll be cool to hang around a cop all day.” I shifted forward in my chair.

“I’ll get that set up. I just need to clear it with my boss.” José took a swig of tea. “I think they’ll have a blast.”

“I hope they don’t, considering you work on the bomb squad.” Annie Mae chortled.

“Yeah, no explosions. Promise, José? Or you’ll have to answer to me.” I hoped it sounded more like a demand than a request. As a forty-year-old mom, I looked exhausted all the time rather than formidable. I doubted anyone took me too seriously, and certainly not José.

He put his hands up. “No guarantees.”

“Before I forget, how was your date with Tadcu? I mean, my grandfather,” I asked Annie Mae.

“You had a date?” José high-fived Annie Mae.

“Not that I kiss and tell, but he’s such a gentleman. And so romantic, too. He gave me an apple. Flowers are so passé.” Annie Mae cleared her throat. “We had an absolutely lovely time. That’s all I’m saying about that.”

The door opened with a creak, and a gust of muggy air blew in as Lucy walked through the door. Her trademark red lipstick matched her flushed cheeks. “Gracious Almighty Lord. The humidity is killing me.” She set down a round glass container on the table, uncovering the lid to reveal an apple pie.

We said our hellos as Lucy got situated. As usual, when we got together, we did a potluck. This time, Bezu made a roast with vegetables. José brought a tossed spring salad, Annie Mae contributed macaroni and cheese, and I supplied two bottles of wine.

“Now that we’re all here, let me see about dinner.” Bezu rose.

“Let me help.” Annie Mae followed Bezu into the kitchen.

José’s phone rang. He excused himself and stepped outside, leaving Lucy and me together.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Lucy asked.

“Huh?” I responded.

“There.” Lucy motioned toward my midsection. “Muffin top or baby?”

“You’re the second person today who thought that.” That was it. Even though I’d changed my shirt, my pooch must have still been visible. At dinner, I’d load up on salad rather than the pie, which I already wanted two slices of. “Not pregnant; maybe a little muffin top.”

“Thank goodness you’re not, because you have the Noah’s ark of uteruses. You’d end up with another set of twins on top of the two sets you already have. Speaking of the kids, school ends soon. Do they have plans for summer?” Lucy asked as she plopped into a chair.

“Nina and Nancy start a summer program at Savannah Children’s Theater.”

“I lost track, how old are they now?”

“Five.”

“Wow. Time goes by quickly.” Lucy shook her head. “And it’s your boys’ last year of high school, and then they’re off to college.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m losing half my kids.”

“You’re not, really. I’m sure they’ll come home a lot.”

“I sure hope so.”

“What are their summer plans?’”

“They decided they didn’t want to work at the family business. Instead, Timmy is working at Leonardo’s ice cream shop, and Teddy cuts grass. They’re pooling their money to get a car because they’re under the impression that they’re the only eighteen-year-olds in the universe who don’t have one.”

I paused before asking, “How is Bert’s retirement going?”

Lucy poured herself a glass of tea then took a linen napkin and dabbed the perspiration on her forehead. “Right now, we’re battling our backyard neighbors, the Nesmiths.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Ina said we cut the roots of her hackberry tree that borders our property. It was her plumber, not us, who cut them. Now, she’s afraid it’ll die and fall on her house. The whole situation is a mess and getting very hostile.” Lucy sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “But it’s better that he focus his energies on that than chasing me around the house.”

“Chasing you?”

“Oh, yeah. I don’t know what possessed him, but all of a sudden he’s working out and taking Viagra. After he pops one, I tell you what, it’s hard getting away from him.” Lucy raised an eyebrow and leaned in. “Really hard.”

I felt myself blush. She wasn’t afraid to say anything, and I liked that about her. “I wonder why he’s doing all that.”

“I’m not sure. Do you think he’s having an affair? There was a credit charge at Levy’s jewelers. Maybe it’s a surprise gift for me?” Lucy turned her palms up. “Sometimes he disappears for hours at a time with no notice. Then other times, he’s under foot and very affectionate with me. Weird, huh?”

“Yeah.” In the back of my mind, I did wonder about Bert cheating on Lucy but pushed that thought out. After all, Bert was a paunchy, middle-aged, somewhat nerdy, retired accountant. Not exactly playboy material.

“Anyway, his friend James Cohen owns a lake house in North Carolina. Bert is spending a few days there, so I know he’ll just be with the boys. Since he’s out of my hair, I’ve redone my sitting room from top to bottom.”

“One day I’d love for you to redo my master bedroom. I think it’s been the same for twenty years. Kids, their toys, and fingerprints have been the only additions to the décor.”

“I’d love to. Oh, and by the way, don’t let me forget to give these to Annie Mae.” Lucy pulled a paper bag from her purse and set them on the table. “She loves peaches, and the Red and White had a big sale on them.”

“The Sunshine Market has peaches.” I smiled.