Read Still Life in Brunswick Stew Online
Authors: Larissa Reinhart
Tags: #Mystery, #humor, #cozy, #Humour, #Romance, #cozy mystery, #southern mystery, #humorous mystery, #mystery series
Still Life in Brunswick Stew (10 page)
And feeling hot and uncomfortable, I decided to toss Todd’s remark at Luke. “Do you think I haven’t been acting like myself lately?” I frowned. “Like I’ve been quieter?”
“Quieter?” A dimple popped into view again. “I’ve never associated you with that particular word.”
“Todd thinks I haven’t been acting like myself.”
Luke’s brows fell and lips puckered into a frown. The sweat had crept into his hair, making the roots darker. “Maybe it’s all the meals you cook that are softening you. Or the fact that you want to stay home on Friday and Saturday nights and snuggle.”
“Are you making fun of me?” I said. “I’m serious. I’ve been letting my friends down. What is it about you and cooking?”
“Forget cooking. Maybe we should test out your snuggling skills.”
Before I could protest, he pulled me into a kiss. His full lips seared my mouth while I fumbled under the pressure. My lips slackened despite the rest of my body urging them to continue. I tried to push them into another go, but they felt dry as toast despite the rain of sweat dripping off both of us.
“What was that?”
I massaged my lips with my fingertips. “I don’t know,” I said, although I feared Todd had somehow poisoned my lips. “There’s something wrong with me.”
“Sugar, there is nothing wrong with you. Todd McIntosh is putting ideas in your head, ironic as that might sound. A bigger problem is the amount of time you spend with that idiot,” Luke continued. “He gets his kicks from seeing you get in trouble. Todd likes seeing you riled up. I’ve been watching him. You better be careful.”
The blood rushed from my head and I felt dizzy. “Careful?”
“I forgot you don’t know the meaning of the word careful.” The taut skin of Luke’s cheeks stretched into a half-smile. “It means think before you act. Like questioning kids with switchblades. You don’t need to feel like you’ve got to save the world. Or Halo. That’s my job. You relax and let me do that for you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you saying?”
“That Todd McIntosh feeds your ego. You do the dumbest stuff when you’re with him.” Luke pushed his hand through his wet hair. “This truck is hotter than a witch’s hat. Let’s go in and eat.”
I was about to argue that I could do plenty of dumb stuff without Todd when my stomach gunned to life. Tater materialized at my door.
“Maybe it’s your stomach that draws Tater,” said Luke. “He hears that god-awful sound and thinks you’re calling him over.”
I glared at the amber eyes staring at me through the window and decided to follow Luke out his side of the truck. How could Luke blame Todd for getting me riled up? Todd wasn’t smart enough to plant ideas in my brain.
Or was he?
The smell of frying chicken filled the sunny yellow kitchen, causing me to wilt at the door. Grandpa and Uncle Will looked up from their conversation over tall tea glasses and Cody straightened from his kitchen chair slump at our entrance. At the counter, Casey mixed yellow batter in a glass bowl. Next to her stood an older woman with gray roots emerging from short, frosted hair. A blue tattoo on her left breast peeked from the neck of a white tank top, while shapely legs clad in denim Capri pants supported her top-heavy frame. The chicken momentarily forgotten, I examined the rough looking woman while the kitchen crowd stared at us.
“Y’all fall in a pool on the way over?” Cody asked, snickering.
I glanced at Luke’s drenched t-shirt and wet, curling hair. Then my eyes fell upon my slick skin and the soggy V between my breasts where a single flower hung. Even my flip-flops appeared wet. I didn’t want to see the kind of mess that lay on top of my head. My hair sure wouldn’t curl prettily like Luke’s. Probably looked more like a wet Collie. I needed a shower. But my curiosity about the tattooed woman in our kitchen kept me rooted in the doorway.
“You must be Cherry,” she said. “I’m Pearl.”
All eyes but Grandpa’s flew from Pearl to me.
“Yes, ma’am. This here is Luke.” I reached to give him a gentle shove into the kitchen, but he had already walked forward to shake her hand.
“Nice to meet you. Deputy Luke Harper.”
Cody’s mouth twitched, which should have given me a clue as to what was to come. Luke ambled to the table to give his regards to Uncle Will and Grandpa before sinking into a chair next to Cody.
“You got some tea for this boy?” Grandpa called over his shoulder. “Luke looks like he needs a drink. Y’all walk here from town? It’s hotter than the hinges of hell outside.”
“I’ll get it, honey.” Pearl walked toward the refrigerator while I picked my jaw up from the floor.
Pearl’s getting the tea? My gaze flew to Casey. She stared daggers at the woman’s back.
I remained stuck at the door, gaping at the scene before me. Pearl retrieved the glass pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge and scooted to the counter.
“Where do you keep your glasses, honey?” she asked Casey.
Casey narrowed her eyes into slits, barely opening her thin lips to answer. “I’ve got it.” She flicked her brown ponytail like an irritated mare. It may be Grandpa’s house, but we were standing in Casey’s kitchen. “Ma’am.”
“No bother, baby.” Pearl began investigating our cupboards, hunting for a glass.
Casey popped open a door and snatched a glass, slamming it on the counter. “No problem.”
A movement caught my attention. I glanced at the table where Grandpa and Uncle Will had resumed their conversation. Luke signaled me over, but I couldn’t move. His eyes widened and he nodded at the two women bickering over who would serve him tea.
“I’ll get it,” I said, marching to the counter to retrieve the glass. “If Luke’s too lazy to get his own tea, I guess I can catch his slack. I’m the one who invited him here.”
“Wasn’t me,” muttered Cody. His brown eyes flickered to Luke, who caught the look and held it. Luke’s shaming still burned Cody. Walking to the table, I kicked Cody’s chair and handed Luke his tea. “So Pearl, are you a friend of Cody’s?”
“No, honey.” Pearl hopped to the stove to peek under the lid of a steaming pot. “I’m a friend of your Grandpa Ed. We met at a goat owners’ coop meeting.”
A curl of steam rose and the smell of pork fat and simmering beans filled the warm kitchen. My stomach gurgled, and I forgot about the goats.
Casey looked up from a muffin tin splattered with yellow globs. Her spoon slapped cornbread batter into an empty hole with a hearty thwack. I grimaced at the abuse.
“Them beans are just fine,” Casey hollered.
Grandpa and Uncle Will exchanged a wary glance. I sucked in my breath. Pearl replaced the lid and turned away from the stove. She stuck her hands on her hips and gave Casey a knowing look. My sister tossed her spoon on the counter and shot one back.
We had walked into the shootout at the O.K. Corral. Grandpa ignored the women. Uncle Will grabbed his tea glass and turned toward Luke. Luke’s eyes stayed fixed on me. The temperature of the kitchen rose about thirty degrees.
I pulled at my sticky dress and tried to jostle my mind into something distracting. I looked at Uncle Will. “Did you authorize the autopsy on my friend, Eloise Parker?”
I felt Luke prod my ankle with his boot, but the tension in the kitchen dipped. Casey turned back to her cornbread mess, and Pearl slipped onto a chair eager for news.
Uncle Will’s chocolate brown eyes regarded me. He pulled his large hands off the wet tea glass to settle on his round belly, leaving damp imprints on the stretched t-shirt. “How do you know about the autopsy?”
I glanced at Luke, but his face had hardened into his deputy mask of blank indifference.
“Eloise’s daddy said he was going to demand it,” I said. “I agree with him. The whole thing is very odd.”
“Eloise was sickly, Cher.” Uncle Will eased back his large frame in the rattan chair, making it creak. “I’m very sorry about your friend, though.”
“She was fine earlier even with her Crohn’s. It’s suspicious. That’s no ordinary food poisoning.”
“You think everything is suspicious,” muttered Luke.
“An outbreak of that type has not gone by without notice, Cherry,” said Uncle Will. “However, the hospital said her symptoms were not unlike a bad attack of that disease.”
“I visited her boyfriend Griffin Ward today. He makes a kind of health drink called Genuine Juice, and he was trying to use Eloise as his guinea pig. I don’t think she was going for it. He also brought Eloise stew. And he didn’t get sick.”
“Isn’t he the meathead I kicked out of the festival yesterday?” said Luke. The tic above his eye spasmed. “You visited his house?”
“What’s all this?” said Grandpa. “Who’s Eloise?”
“Eloise Parker. My friend from Sidewinder. She makes pottery.” Grief welled in my throat, but a sharp jab of anger helped me recover. “She made pottery. Made it until she was poisoned by bad Brunswick Stew or something else.”
“Bad Brunswick Stew? How is that possible?” Grandpa glanced at Pearl. “You know how to make Brunswick Stew?”
“Of course,” she scoffed. “My daddy always used squirrel or possum, but I make it with chicken.”
Casey slammed the oven door, rattling the pot of beans. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” she announced and marched out of the room.
“She better pull those muffins out before fifteen minutes is up.” Pearl shook her head. “I always make cornbread in a cast iron skillet. With bacon grease.”
Something like a smile flickered on Grandpa’s face.
“Pearl, you got family around here?” asked Luke, rubbing the nerve above his eye.
“My daughter, Amy, lives in Halo,” she said. “But I’ve got a farm outside Line Creek. We raised corn and cattle until my husband died. Now I’ve just got the goats. I met your Grandpa because I’m looking to sell my herd. I’m probably going to sell the farm and move closer to Amy, too.”
She smiled at Grandpa. “I’m finding I like Halo.”
Cody and I exchanged a look of befuddlement. Why would someone be interested in an old curmudgeon like Grandpa? We don’t have money and he’s not even good looking. More like a stringy piece of jerky than a hot, hunk of beef.
“Pearl, how’s that Sable doe?” Grandpa scratched his whiskers. “What was her name? Muffin?”
“Snickerdoodle,” she corrected. “You know her name, Ed. I’m going to sire her with a Sable buck with good papers. Them babies are going to be beautiful and great milkers.”
I noticed the gleam in Grandpa’s eye and passed the thought that he might just be after this poor woman’s goats. Terrible, I know, but the idea of Grandpa and Pearl having romantic liaisons gave me the heebie jeebies.
“Is that so?” said Luke. “And what is it about Halo that you like so much?”
I rolled my eyes and leaned into Luke, Master Subject Changer.
“Well, you’ve got a nice, little town here. People who appreciate goats like your Grandpa. Amy and my grandkids, of course. And I’m enjoying the bingo, too.”
“Which church is doing bingo?” asked Uncle Will. “Methodist?”
“No, it’s through the Ladies Auxiliary, but they don’t meet at the VFW hall. Some man offered to have it in his house.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that.” Uncle Will rubbed his chin. “You heard about the bingo, Harper?”
“I don’t pay much attention to the Ladies Auxiliary, Sheriff,” said Luke.
“You should,” Uncle Will winked. “You never know what those girls are up to. If you want to be sheriff someday, you’ve got to pay attention to the little things.”
Sheriff someday? I glanced at Luke’s face, but it remained shuttered. Was Uncle Will grooming Luke to become sheriff? I thought Luke was hoping to transfer to a city detective position.
Pearl hopped up and peeked in the oven. The sweet smell of cornbread mixed with the comforting aroma of chicken and beans and permeated the kitchen.
“These will be done in a minute,” she said. “You should see this house where we play bingo. Looks like Tara Plantation. Even has a cannon in the front yard.”
I stiffened. The only house that looked like a wedding cake with a cannon in the front yard belonged to Max Avtaikin.
A quiet, but unmistakable groan rose from Luke.
“You don’t say.” I circled the table to the oven. “This house has a game room for y’all to play poker, I mean bingo, in?”
“How did you know?” Pearl slipped the cornbread out of the oven. “A big, beautiful room in his basement with a chandelier and a cashier’s booth just like on the casino boats. I went on a girl’s weekend to Mississippi once.”
“Got a bar with a reclining nude painted on the wall?” I stepped back as she maneuvered the muffins to the opposite counter.
“You’ve been to Mr. Max’s house? I don’t like naked pictures myself, but I guess some folks think it’s art.” She shook the muffins onto a sheet of newspaper.
I allowed the crack about art in the interest of busting gangsters. “I’ve been there once. And I know the man who owns the house. He’s been in trouble for gambling before. Y’all better find another place to play your bingo.”
“What?” Pearl stuck her hands on her hips. “Mr. Max is a gentleman. He says hosting bingo is a community service and even serves us tea and cookies. Calls the cookies biscuits. Isn’t that cute? We adore Mr. Max.”
I blinked back my shock. There was nothing cute about the Bear. Maybe ruggedly handsome in a scary, linebacker sort of way. We had made our peace, but I didn’t trust him. He operated with ulterior motives for his ulterior motives. Serving little old ladies tea and biscuits had to be an underhanded way of filling his coffers.
“I saw Mr. Max at church today, actually,” I said.
“Church?” Cody said. “Is it Christmas already?”
“You should talk, you heathen. You know Mr. Max was a judge at the cook-off, Uncle Will?”
“I am aware,” said Will. “Thankfully, the judges were fine. Which makes it kind of doubtful all those folks got sick from Brunswick Stew.”
Casey reentered the kitchen, her toenails gleaming with a fresh coat of metallic blue. Her eyes zeroed in on the muffins steaming on the counter. “You took my muffins out of the oven?”
“You don’t want them to burn, sugar,” said Pearl.
“I’ve been making muffins since I was six, and I haven’t burned them once.”
“I’ve been cooking a bit longer than you, hon’.” Pearl shrugged. “You weren’t here, so I took them out. No big deal.”
Casey’s lips disappeared inside her mouth. She marched to the counter and began pulling plates from the cupboard. I backed away from the scene and bumped into Luke.
“Let’s go wash up.” He snagged my hand, dragging me through the kitchen doorway and into the living room. We turned down a pine-paneled hall leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. Grabbing my other hand, he backed me into the wall, and pinned my lower body with his legs.
“I guess your definition of washing up is different than mine,” I said.
He lowered his head, his breath caressed my face. “What are you doing? I told you how I felt about you talking to that kid and then you go to the musclehead’s house? And you’ve taken to stalking Max Avtaikin at church?”
“It wasn’t stalking. Just coincidence. I saw your mom and JB there, too. And Shawna.”
“Did you now?” His eyes shifted. “Isn’t that nice.”
“They seemed a tad confused by our relationship.”
“I don’t pay much attention to my stepdad. And you know my momma. She’s got her hands in so many organizations she doesn’t know if she’s coming or going.”