Still Life in Brunswick Stew (13 page)
Read Still Life in Brunswick Stew Online
Authors: Larissa Reinhart
Tags: #Mystery, #humor, #cozy, #Humour, #Romance, #cozy mystery, #southern mystery, #humorous mystery, #mystery series
“Trouble in paradise?”
“Nope, everything is fine.” I hurried to the sink and began washing my brushes.
“Really?” Casey twirled a long lock of hair in her fingers. “I noticed after dinner on Sunday when Luke put his hands on you, you fidgeted and jumped around like he’s got the plague. I call that trouble in paradise.”
“I don’t like public displays of affection.”
Casey snorted. “Don’t you want him anymore?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Luke is perfect. He’s funny, smart, and brave.”
“He’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Yeah,” I smiled and rubbed the smeary paint on the back of my hand. “He’s got those dimples that drive me crazy. And those beautiful gray eyes. I’ve tried mixing ultramarine blue, transparent blue oxide, and even Williamsburg’s German Earth all with different amounts of white and still can’t come close to his color. I think he can darken and lighten his eyes at will.”
“And a superfine body,” she said, ignoring my pontification on eye color.
“Yep.”
“He looks like the kind of guy who’ll keep you up for hours.” She stared at the dingy kitchen cabinets without really seeing them. “You know, just keeping you happy in all sorts of ways.”
I stared at her tight bike racer outfit, wondering for whom she dressed. This was getting a little uncomfortable. Turning to the sink, I began scrubbing the paint off my arms. When I glanced over my shoulder, Casey had lost the misty look in her eyes, but still retained a pink tinge to her cheeks.
“You been watching the women’s channel again,” I said.
“Never mind. Are you cheating on Luke?”
I gasped and spun around, slopping water onto the floor.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re acting like a guy.” She eyed me. “That man salivates over you, God knows why. Todd did, too. How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“You keep these guys at arms-length, but they still want you. And it’s not like you look like a Playboy Bunny or something.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, my cheeks burning.
“It’s not fair.” Her brown eyes sliced through me. “I hope you’re not cheating on Luke. You’ve got a chance for happiness.”
Her face crumpled. I stood stock-still, dripping with water.
“This is not entirely your fault,” she continued.
I knew she meant our mother, but I wasn’t a big believer in playing the victim card.
Casey slipped across the kitchen for a hug and after a quick appraisal of my wet, painted self, patted me on the head instead. “It’s going to be okay, sister,” she said. “I’ll help you get back together with Luke.”
“We haven’t broken up. I’m not cheating on him. It was an accidental kiss. And I stopped it. By falling down.”
“Whoa.” She stepped back. “Who’d you kiss?”
“Todd,” I hung my head in shame.
“What did you go and do that for?”
“It just happened. I thought he was going to hug me and all of the sudden he was kissing me.”
“Huh. I’m not surprised. But you stopped him?”
“Yes,” I kept my eyes on my feet. “It just took me a minute to figure out what was going on.”
“He must be a pretty good kisser.”
I nodded, rubbing a tiny chi symbol off my shin with my big toe. A phenomenal kisser. The kind of kisses where you suddenly find yourself standing in a Vegas chapel, saying “I do.”
“Sounds innocent enough. That kind of thing happens and it’s not like you’re married.” Her foot tapped the ground. “Just don’t tell Luke. It’ll hurt him more to know than to not.”
A huge sigh escaped my chest. “But now my lips don’t work right with Luke.”
“Sure,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world to have your lips refuse to work. Maybe it was. Although Casey was currently in a dry spell, she had a lot of experience in the man department. I doubted she ever had problems making her lips work, though. And judging by her outfit, her dry spell would soon be over.
“So you’ll distract him with food until this kissing thing passes.” She began opening cabinet doors. “What are we making for dinner?”
An hour later, Luke entered my kitchen, sniffed the air, and walked back into the carport. I stared at the closed door for half a second and then yanked it open to glare at the man standing there.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought I had the wrong house. It smells like food in there. And by food, I don’t mean wings from Red’s.” His simmering smile promised emerging dimples. He popped the top button on his shirt. “What’s wrong with your face?”
“Nothing.” The paint had scrubbed off, but my fair skin felt raw. I still hoped to entice Luke into modeling. I sketched faster than most artists.
My hope was getting him to pose tonight and hold out for the body painting later when I was ready for the detail work. In the meantime, he didn’t need to know scrubbing with a bar of Lifeboy was in his future. “Come in.”
I avoided a kiss by slipping through the door and heading to the stove. Luke trailed behind me and pressed his body against my back. He peered over my head as I pulled a lid off a frying pan.
“Darlin’, is that chicken-fried steak?”
His hands slid to my hips and he leaned over to nibble my neck. I smiled and stirred brown gravy in a small saucepan, feeling like a tarted-up Betty Crocker. I had replaced my tank and shorts with a little spaghetti strap number I had shortened and edged in purple fringe. And covered in a ruffly apron. Getting gravy out of fringe could be tricky.
“Who made all this?” he asked.
I hesitated. “Casey.”
“Thank the Lord,” he said, abandoning my neck to grab a plate off the counter. “Let’s eat.”
I tossed the spoon into the gravy pot. “What do you mean?”
“Sugar, your heart is in the right place, and I thank you for the food.” He nodded toward the sink. “But judging by all the tubes of paint and brushes lying around, I’m guessing your mind wasn’t on dinner. I’m glad you took my advice, though, and started on a new project.”
A buzz from his cell phone distracted me from answering. Luke strode to the other side of the kitchen where the phone vibrated across the counter.
“Sorry. Probably work.” He turned away from me to answer the call.
As Luke talked, my phone rang. I hesitated, hoping I could glean some inside information into the criminal world of Halo from Luke’s curt remarks, but turned toward the living room where my cell phone rested on my desk.
“Cherry?” said the breathless voice on the phone. “It’s Dot from the Halo Herald. You got a minute to talk?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I leaned around the archway to the kitchen. Luke scribbled in a small notebook while he listened. I zipped out of his hearing range toward the other side of the living room and stood in front of my large picture window overlooking Loblolly Avenue. “What’s going on?”
“You were right about the Sidewinder poisonings.”
“What?” I almost choked on the word. People rarely admitted I was right about anything. “Eloise was poisoned?”
“Everyone that was sick from the festival was poisoned. The owner of Cotton Pickin’ Good place, Lewis Maynard, is in a coma. His wife, Marion, is hospitalized, too, although not as serious.”
“No kidding. Poisoned with what?”
“Because of the number of people sickened at the festival, the sheriff pushed Eloise Parker’s autopsy to the top of the lab’s queue and had a battery of tests done, including a toxin screening. Are you ready for this? The medical examiner found trace amounts of arsenic. Right now they say the tests are inconclusive whether arsenic was the cause of death, but you bet the officials perked up after that.”
My eyes widened until I had to blink away the dryness. “Arsenic?” A chill ran through me.
“Yes, ma’am. And thanks to you, I was at the hospital talking to the staff when they found out. You got me a great scoop, Cherry.”
I nodded. The news devastated me. Someone had murdered my good friend. I would have been happy to have eaten crow on my hunch Eloise had been poisoned.
“Cherry? Are you still there? They are running tests on Lewis now, using hair samples to check for heavy metals. Tomorrow the hospital will start treating those sick for arsenic poisoning. Good thing Eloise’s father pushed for that autopsy. Sheriff is rounding up his posse and is putting them on the trail now.”
That statement woke me up. I scooted toward the kitchen and found Luke buttoning his shirt. He spied me and motioned he was leaving.
“I’m with a deputy right now,” I said. “Let me call you back.”
“You usually keep a deputy on hand?” laughed Dot. “We need to start hanging out more.”
I dropped the phone on my desk and strolled into the kitchen. “Taking off?”
“Sorry, sugar. I’ve got to go.”
“Is this anything to do with Eloise’s death?”
He kept his look mild, but I could see a glint of consternation in his eyes.
“From arsenic poisoning?”
“How did you know that?” He folded his arms over his chest. “Was that your phone call? Listen, I know Eloise was your friend, but you need to stay out of this.”
“I can help you, Luke.”
“No, ma’am. This is an official investigation now. So you keep out of trouble.”
“Luke, I already talked to Hunter Adams, the son of Lewis Maynard’s girlfriend. Remember the kid with the switchblade? He’s also Eloise’s student. You know I also spoke to Griffin Ward. The meathead. Check into his Genuine Juice he was selling at the festival.”
Luke studied me for a minute. Leaning forward, he kissed me on the cheek. “I’m sorry about dinner. Maybe you could make me a plate and stick it in your fridge?”
“Don’t you want to hear about Lewis Maynard’s girlfriend’s son?”
“I’m sure Sheriff Thompson has a list of people to interview and it includes Lewis Maynard’s girlfriend’s son, dog, and mother, if need be.” He opened my door. “This will probably keep me busy for a while, so I’ll catch you later.”
He paused. “Who called you?”
“I have my sources.”
“Tell your sources to keep out of this investigation. It could get ugly.” His eyes narrowed. “We’re talking a mass poisoning. It could hit the news, and that’ll slow everything down.”
I hoped he meant bigger news than the Halo Herald. If Luke found out I had leaked the story to the press, I was really going to have trouble in paradise.
I had hoped to find Dot at the hospital, interviewing patients and tracking down arsenic results or at some such investigative work. Dot was nowhere to be seen. However, luck was on my side because I immediately recognized Hunter’s aggrieved form schlepping through the hospital corridor. He wore a ripped t-shirt that played off his giant earlobe holes and the permanent imprint of his tobacco can made a neat circle on the seat of his jeans.
“Hey, it’s Scarecrow,” he said as a greeting.
I refrained from a similar retort, because I am a bigger person than that. And I wanted information.
“I heard Lewis was in a coma and Miss Marion is sick, too. I’m sorry. That must be rough on your…” I paused, searching for a polite term for dysfunctional family, “…situation.”
“Yeah, it bites.” He eyed me, finding my fringy sundress more interesting than Saturday’s sweaty ensemble. Sometimes it takes a person a few minutes to adjust to my creative ingenuity. “You owe me for making me eat my chew.”
“I’ll buy you a coffee.”
“Coffee? That stuff is disgusting.”
This from the kid who swallowed chewing tobacco. “Fine, make it a Coke. Is your momma here?”
“Yeah, she’s actually talking to the police.” Hunter glanced over his shoulder and quickened his steps.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
I spied a brown deputy uniform lounging at a nurses’ station. He chatted with the pink smocked assistant on duty. It wasn’t Luke, but I wasn’t taking any chances. Keeping my head down, I scurried past. Hopefully, Deputy Wellington wouldn’t recognize me and mention it to Luke. A side comment of “why was your girl in the hospital Monday night?” and Luke would be all over me like white on rice.
Hunter glanced at me, but waited until we were well past the nurses’ stand to speak. “I know what’s going on. Lewis must have poisoned his own stew. He’s always looking for attention.”
“A coma seems a rough way to get attention. And would he want to poison his wife and everybody else, too? Why do you think Lewis poisoned the stew?”
“Duh. He’s the cook. Who else could have done it?”
“Anyone could have dumped something in while the stew was cooking. And maybe it wasn’t the stew. Have the police said what was poisoned?”
“No.” His face pulled into a scowl.
Jamming the elevator down button with his thumb, he uttered a few words that would have made my brother blush. I wondered if giving the kid a jolt of sugar and caffeine might be a bad idea. The doors slid open, we walked in, and Hunter paced the tiny box while we dropped to the basement. The arrival ding brought Hunter out of his brooding.
The doors opened, but he grabbed my arm before we could step out.