Carbs & Cadavers (7 page)

“I couldn’t stop the bleeding!” Megan shouted, loud enough for them all to hear. She held up a collection of blood-soaked dishtowels. “I tried! I tried!”

Beside her, Amelia’s face crumpled and she began to cry.

James could see little else on the floor except for the inordinate amount of blood, and then he spied what looked like a shattered cell phone near Amelia’s foot.

“That’s Brinkley Myers,” Lindy whispered, peering between loaves of pumpernickel and marble rye. “And he’s definitely dead.”

“But from what?” asked Gillian after exhaling loudly. “I’ve never seen so much blood.”

“Looks like it all came from somewhere on his head. There’s no blood near his chest or legs.” Bennett clucked his tongue in sympathy. “Point of fact, it sure seems like he had a nosebleed that just wouldn’t quit.”

The others remained silent as they confirmed Bennett’s theory by casting their eyes once more on Brinkley’s inert form.

“What’s that in his right hand?” James asked, unable to get an unhindered view over the shoulders of the paramedic.

“Dunno,” answered Bennett. “Can you see, Lindy? Hurry, they’re going to move him.”

Lindy let out a deep sigh. “I see it! Of course I know what that is. It’s one of Megan’s famous cookies; a ‘chocolate chipped and dipped.’ Those cookies are so—” The rest of her statement was cut short by the sudden appearance of Sheriff Huckabee’s face in the window. He did not look at all pleased to see four faces pressed up against the window glass. Waving them off with a brusque flick of his hand, Huckabee drew the green shades over the bakery windows and then turned the store sign to “Closed.”

James stepped back and gazed at his open-mouthed companions. “Guess the show’s over,” he said, unable to think of anything else to say. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but
I’ve
just seen my first dead body and I feel kind of weird.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bennett muttered quietly. They all stood on the sidewalk in motionless silence.

“Let’s go back to my place and have some coffee,” Lindy offered. “I feel kind of strange, too. It would be nice to have some company right about now.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and walked back to the mail truck like a row of automatons. James’s mind was buzzing with all that it had just absorbed.

“Fine time for us to start a diet,” Gillian laughed awkwardly as Bennett started the engine. “In a few days we’re
all
going to wish we had one of those cookies.”

Lindy cast an uneasy glance at Gillian. “That’s the stress . . . making you talk like that.” Lindy held onto Gillian’s arm and released a sigh. “You know, I never liked that Brinkley Myers,” she stated glumly, “but at least
his
last meal was a good one.”

Coffee at Lindy’s
had not lasted long. All four of the supper club members found that they needed some time alone to digest the fact that a young man had suddenly died. True, he was a distasteful young man, but one belonging to the Quincy’s Gap community nonetheless.

Monday at work, James busied himself researching acceptable foods for a low-carb diet plan. He grew quickly confused between the definition of low carbs, good carbs, useless carbs, and the overall abundance of nutritional phrases even mentioning the term “carbohydrates.” James decided to pursue the good carbs, good fats approach as at least the adjectives put a more positive spin on the mountain of depravity he and his new friends were about to climb.

After skimming through several books, James realized that he had already exceeded his daily allowance of carbohydrates by having a bagel for breakfast. True, he had skipped his regular layer of cream cheese and had used a generous measure of strawberry jam instead, but he had innocently added on even more bad carbs cleverly disguised as sugar.

“How can they expect anyone to lose weight with all of these conflicting menus? This book says no fruit, this book says only berries, and this one says eat all fruit!” James snapped a weight loss book shut and stared at the cover. A shirtless man with washboard abs and a pair of biceps that looked like they were actually concealed cannonballs had a veined forearm around the trim waist of a busty and toothy blonde who gazed up at her bronzed diet-mate with a look of rapture.

In order to keep his fingers occupied during his lunch break (so that they would not be tempted to buy a package of cheese puffs from the lobby snack machine), James surfed the Internet. He was able to achieve a tenuous idea of the types of foods the supper club should be eating. Energized, he was busily typing up a shopping list and a list of acceptable snacks when Lucy arrived.

Francis and Scott had already left for the day. James seemed so preoccupied with his typing on the computer that the twins simply disappeared after softly calling, “Until tomorrow, Professor!”

James should have realized that his workday had officially come to an end, but he only grunted in reply as he consulted yet another website created for hopeful dieters. Even when Mrs. Waxman, the part-time librarian in charge of the evening shift, arrived and began to assist a group of boisterous high school students at the reference desk, James remained absorbed with his task.

“Hello, Lucy,” Mrs. Waxman whispered. “Haven’t seen you in here for a few weeks. What true crime books are you reading these days?”

Mrs. Waxman had taught eighth grade English at the Thomas Jefferson Middle School for so many years now that no one could remember who had occupied the position before she moved to town. She had taught both Lucy and James and remembered the names of every one of her students as well as the reading habits of each library patron within a three-county radius.

“Hi, Mrs. Waxman,” Lucy smiled. “I’m still working on that Ann Rule paperback.”

“I bet you finished those M. C. Beaton novels, though,” Mrs. Waxman chuckled. “I think you have a thing for that fictional detective.”

“Hamish Macbeth?” Lucy shrugged. “He
is
a dog lover, but he’s too tall and skinny for me. Plus, I’m not really attracted to redheads.”

“My . . . aren’t
we
fussy?” Mrs. Waxman clicked her tongue in disapproval. “How old are you now, Lucy?” she asked wickedly.

Lucy flushed. She knew where this conversation was headed and she did not want to admit that she was thirty-five and had never even come close to walking down the aisle. Not even as a bridesmaid. “Actually, I’m not here for books, Mrs. Waxman. I’m here to see . . . ah . . . Professor Henry.”

“
James
is in his office.” Mrs. Waxman called everyone by his or her first name, regardless of title or occupation. Dr. Morris, the town vet, was still Emily, and Reverend Beasley of the First Baptist Church was and always would be Mike Jr. “He’s doing something on the computer. Go on back.”

Lucy tapped lightly on the door separating James’s tiny office from the shelving area behind the circulation desk. James jumped up in surprise and put his hand over his racing heart. “You startled me.”

“Sorry.” Lucy offered a shy grin, pointing at the wad of papers James clutched in his hand. “Is the diet starting to make you a little tense?” she teased.

James looked down at his hand and then put the pile of papers onto his desk. Smoothing the wrinkled edges with his fingers he said, “Actually, I was so busy this afternoon I kind of forgot to be hungry. Of course, I’ve had about five diet sodas and none of them were decaffeinated, so I’m a little jittery.”

Lucy sat in one of the office’s uncomfortable wooden chairs. “This chair reminds me of school,” she said, thinking glumly of Mrs. Waxman. “How did the research go? Are we going to survive this, or will we be eating carrot sticks and Swiss cheese for the rest of our lives?”

“Actually, it’s not that bland. There are a lot of foods on our list that are pretty good. Of course, it helps if you like any vegetable known to man, which I don’t.”

Lucy shrugged. “I like potatoes.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t? Fried; scalloped; baked with cheese, chili, and sour cream; hash browns with ketchup; tater tots—”

“Stop! You’re killing me!” Lucy begged. “All I had for lunch was a Caesar salad with grilled chicken and I’m starving!”

“I know. Right now, I could eat a miniature pony. I had tuna salad without the bread. Man, I already miss not crunching on something.” James consulted his food sheet and smiled widely. “Hey! At least what you had for lunch was good!” He paused. “Did you eat the croutons?”

“Yes,” Lucy admitted sheepishly. “I wasn’t supposed to though, was I?”

“No, but you didn’t know that.” He handed her a stapled packet of menu ideas. She flipped through some of the meals and groaned. “There are so many fish dishes on here. I’m not a big seafood fan.”

“That’s okay,” James said, coming to sit down next to her. “You can make the same recipes using chicken.”

“You did all this today? That is wonderful, James. Thank you.” Lucy looked into his eyes and he held her look for a long moment. Feeling that something intimate had suddenly passed between them, they both dropped their embarrassed gazes to their liberal laps and tried to think of something else to talk about.

They were saved from any further awkwardness by the appearance of Lindy and Bennett. As they came into the office, chattering away about the coolness in the air and what they had eaten for lunch, James pulled two of the plastic chairs from the kitchen area into his office. When Gillian arrived a few minutes later, James gallantly offered his own chair. Everyone seemed genuinely impressed with his work.

“Why, James!” Lindy gushed. “You’ve made this so organized. We won’t have any excuses now, except that we all have to start cooking.”

“Great,” Gillian sighed dramatically, curling a strand of orange hair around her finger. “That’s going to take up a lot of my reflection time. Still,” she brightened, “I’m really getting a strong
feeling
like there’s a good change ahead for all of us.”

Bennett cleared his throat. “I see some menus here, but what do we eat for a snack? A diet including five smaller meals is more successful than three large ones.”

James was so busy basking in the joy of having four friends gathered around his little desk that he almost didn’t hear Bennett. When the words finally sank in he leapt up and grabbed a sheaf of paper from his printer tray. “I almost forgot. Here’s a list of acceptable snacks.”

The Flab Five’s “Good” Carb Snack List

Celery sticks with Swiss cheese

½ cup low-fat cottage cheese
(add chopped tomatoes or cucumbers if you want)

Cucumber slices with feta cheese or sugar-free ranch dressing

4 ounces nonfat yogurt

Hard-boiled egg

Beef jerky

Hummus (no pita! Use a vegetable to dip instead)

Low-fat ham or turkey slice wrapped up with mozzarella

Mozzarella string cheese (2)

Two pieces Canadian bacon

Granny Smith apple wedges with 1 Tbsp natural or light peanut butter

Dry-roasted peanuts (about 25)

Almonds (¼ cup)

Pistachios (about 30)

Fat-free, sugar-free pudding

Sugar-free Jell-O (1 cup)

Sugar-free popsicles

Sugar-free gum

Sugar-free hard candy

Diet soda

Coffee with fat-free half and half

Artificial sweeteners

“What about all those low-carb bars I’ve seen at the grocery store?” Lindy asked. “They look just like candy bars.”

“You’d have to check the calories,” James replied. “Any bar with more than 150 calories isn’t going to help us. Plus, they’re pretty expensive.”

“Where, in Buddha’s name, is all the fruit?” Gillian demanded, shaking her list.

“I think we’re supposed to go light on fruit until we lose some weight. This is kind of our put-it-in-high-gear snack list. We can add more foods once we’ve lost some weight.”

“I don’t think sugar-free gum is going to get me through an afternoon of art class with twenty-five hormonally imbalanced seniors,” Lindy moaned.

“And not too many of these are good for eating in my truck.” Bennett frowned. “Did you know that there are thirty-two thousand motor vehicle accidents a year caused by drivers distracted by either talking on their cell phones, reading, putting on makeup, eating, or drinking? That’s why I need something that goes in nice and easy.” Bennett opened his mouth in a wide “O.”

“Look, everyone.” Lucy stood and put her hands on her formidable hips. “No one said this was going to be easy.”

James reddened, feeling that Lucy was defending him and not just their diet plan.

“You’re right,” Lindy agreed. “And I
do
appreciate your work, James. After yesterday, I’ve just felt so distracted. It’s been hard to concentrate on a diet.” She turned her round face to Lucy. “Is there any word on what happened to Brinkley?”

Lucy relaxed and sat back down in her chair. “We had to wait for the medical examiner to come over from Rockingham County. Sheriff Huckabee went on home and left Keith, that’s Deputy Donovan, and Deputy Truett to stay with the body and wait. They interviewed Megan and Amelia, too. I was there for everything.” Lucy sounded proud. “I know I was only taking notes, but they’ve never let me go to a scene like that before.”

Gillian shuddered dramatically. “The poor Flowers women! I should bring them some homemade chamomile tea. It’s very soothing, you know. How are they holding up?”

“Fine, I guess.” Lucy hesitated. “Though there’s this one thing about Amelia that I keep turning over in my head. Something that just doesn’t sit right.”

“Like what?” Lindy asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“When Keith was questioning Megan, I saw Amelia sneak back to the front to look at Brinkley’s cell phone. Doesn’t that seem odd?”

“Where was the other deputy? Wasn’t he supposed to be guarding the body?” Gillian seemed shocked. “How could a person lose focus at such a
significant
time?”

“Um, I think he couldn’t resist the temptation of one of those mummy cookies Megan makes. I saw him squirrel a broken one out of the showcase. Guess he went outside to eat it.” Lucy smirked. “Not that I could blame him. I could eat a few dozen of those right now.”