“Thank the Lord!” she exclaimed happily. “Oh, please let me cook! It’ll give me something to do! I just discovered the perfect recipe for a healthy main dish: artichoke and sun-dried tomato chicken breasts drizzled with a nice pesto sauce. A little garlic, a few onions, and some excellent olive oil…” James could hear her making a mental grocery list.
“Don’t buy too much,” he advised. “Gillian’s making whole wheat spaetzle and Lindy’s bringing steamed zucchini. And I should help with something .”
“You can help me with the chocolate mousse. I know a sumptuous recipe that uses rich, dark chocolate instead of sugar, and brandy and coffee instead of heavy cream. It’s been ages since I made it, but I still remember how good it is.” She lowered her voice. “I have to confess, James, I am thrilled to have an excuse to get your father out of the house. There’s nothing on TV about Chase’s accident and he says he can’t focus on work without knowing more about what happened, but I know he’s really moping because he doesn’t know who to paint next. No one’s hands are inspiring him.”
“Oh dear.” James knew how ill-humored his father could be when he was between projects.
“I hope these awful events revolving around my family members aren’t going to turn him back into a hermit,” she added. “I wish I could think of something I could do to bring some sunshine back into our lives.”
“Me too,” James sympathized.
That evening, Bennett was the first to arrive. He handed James a thermos of hot spiced cider and fell into one of the kitchen chairs in exhaustion.
“My route has never taken as long as it did today. Every man, woman, and dog wanted to hash over my love life.” He shook his head wearily. “Man, what was I thinking doing what I did how I did it? That is so not my style!”
“Too late now,” James replied cheerily. He was enjoying Bennett’s public romance. “Besides, now you’ve given Murphy fodder for her next book.”
“Shoot, that’s the other thing everybody’s yapping about. What’s the big shocker at the end?” Bennett inquired as someone rapped knuckles against the panes of the back window.
“No clue,” James stated as he opened the door, letting in Lindy, Gillian, and a burst of cold air. “I haven’t read it.”
Lindy pulled the book out of her grocery bag, her face dark with anger. “I’m on chapter eleven, and every page I read makes me madder and madder. I spent my entire lunch hour plotting revenge against Murphy Alistair!”
“What’s your opinion?” James asked Gillian nervously.
Gillian removed a hand-knit turquoise beret from her head and fluffed her hair. “I don’t plan on reading it,” she answered calmly. “Ever. I’m certain I wouldn’t be pleased with Murphy’s depiction of my spiritual beliefs, and I would prefer not to have a reason to feel any animosity toward a member of my community. I’d like to continue to treat her with respect and fellowship .”
“You wouldn’t if you read the part about how the scented candles you burn while you’re trying to communicate with a moody parrot actually cause the bird’s death,” Lindy grumbled.
Gillian’s hands fluttered over her heart. “What?”
“Yep,” Lindy pursued ruthlessly. “His feathers catch fire and he burns up while screaming ‘Help me! Help me!’”
“That little witch!” Gillian snarled and ripped the book from Lindy’s hands. “What page is that on?”
Lindy opened to a section she had marked using a paper clip. “You think that’s bad? Read this! Here’s where I strip down to my underwear and lay across the school principal’s desk in hopes of seducing him. Luis, whose name is Carlos in this piece of trash, eventually enters his office and he has one of my art students with him! The boy takes a picture of me with his cell phone, and suddenly I’m all over YouTube!” She reddened. “I’ve never done anything remotely like this, but I’m terrified to show my face at school!” She snapped the book shut and tossed it on the table.
At that moment, Lucy let herself in the back door. Smiling at Lindy, she remarked, “And I thought I had a rough day.” She brandished the six-packs she held in each hand. “I got Miller Lite in case anyone wanted to join me, because after looking at Chase Martin’s battered body, a diet soda is not going to do it.”
Everyone accepted a beverage and moved into the dining room. James took a beer into the den, handed it to Jackson, and then said, “Everyone’s here, Milla. I think we should eat first and then listen to Lucy’s report.”
“Should I bring you a tray?” Milla asked Jackson.
Jackson nodded. “I’d rather watch Deal or No Deal than listen to all that yammering.” As Milla turned to leave the room, he grabbed the sleeve of her sweater. “But I’ll come in and sit with you when they talk about the boy.”
“You’re simply the sweetest man underneath all that huff and puff.” Milla kissed him on the forehead.
Over the next few minutes, James set the table as the supper club members carried in side dishes, a pitcher of water, and Milla’s fragrant entrée. They ate hurriedly, exchanging banal small talk about their days. When the meal first started, James found himself wondering if the tone of their gatherings would change after Bennett and Gillian’s public kiss, but the pair acted as they always had. Everyone laughed over Bennett’s descriptions of being teased and playfully harassed by the individuals on his mail route.
“And don’t tell me you’ve got some wacko tea that’ll ease my humiliation, woman.” Bennett pointed a finger at Gillian.
She fluffed her hair and replied, “You were able to answer the second Daily Double correctly because of your knowledge of herbal teas. Now, I wonder who told you all about that subject.”
As Milla served the chocolate mousse, to a chorus of appreciative oohs and ahs , Lucy could sense that it was time to turn to a more somber subject. After taking a reserved bite of her mousse, she nodded ever so slightly at James, signaling that he should collect Jackson from the den.
Milla scooted her chair closer to Jackson’s as soon as he was seated and, gripping the handle of her coffee cup, announced that she was ready for Lucy to begin.
“Chase Martin was definitely murdered,” Lucy stated flatly. “It would appear that he was hit on the back of the head with a blunt object-the ME thinks it might have been a shovel-and then positioned in the driver’s seat of his rental car.”
Lindy gasped. “That’s horrible! Do you think he was unconscious before… before the crash?”
“Most likely. It was a hard blow, the kind that would render most of us senseless,” Lucy said.
“That’s a small blessing in the midst of this gargantuan tragedy,” Gillian declared theatrically.
Lucy ignored the comment and continued. “The killer seems pretty confident that he or she won’t get caught. We don’t have the shovel, but this person didn’t bother with subtlety. We found blood evidence on the pavement where the car would have been parked before it went over the cliff, and there was a cinder block duct-taped to the gas pedal.”