A Choice Cocktail of Death (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2)

by Christine Zane Thomas

  The male guests were probably the most surprising. I couldn’t imagine my cousins or Uncle Billy putting in such an effort. These men had gone all out—gangster suits, pinstripes, and fedoras.

  Stealing the show were the female gun moll characters with Tommy Guns held at their hips. They looked so cool and brave, even if it was just a costume party.

  While some of us played an integral part of the story, not everyone had a part except that of detective. We were all the detectives, all of us without a script.

  The cocktail menu was etched on a chalkboard propped up behind the bar. It read in all capital letters, Dinner with Death Cocktails.

  We could pick from a several prohibition era drinks. Bee’s Knee, Sidecar, Mint Julep, High Ball, and the classic Old Fashioned—I’d researched them all when drafting out notes for my story.

  “Evenin’, fellas, dames,” the bar tender said to us. “I’m Johnny, and I’ll be servin’ you up cocktails until the fuzz shows up. Whatcha havin’?”

  “Well, uh, Johnny,” Marcus said. “I’ll take an Old Fashioned, and the lovely lady, here, will have a Mint Julep.”

  Johnny went to work mixing their cocktails.

  “So, Allie,” Luke nudged me, “have you ever been to such a magnificent looking party?”

  “It’s not Allie, remember?” I whispered. “It’s Jenny Mattonie. But to answer your question, yes and no. I’ve been to a few events here before. Nothing at night. And nothing quite this spectacular.”

  I took a few more photos. One of the bar menu. Then I targeted Johnny while he muddled the mint in Kate’s beverage.

  I leaned back on the bar and took some candid shots around the room. But my phone stopped as I caught sight of my cousin Melanie and her boyfriend Jack entering the house.

  I didn’t know they were going to be here tonight.

  When I’d mentioned it a few Sundays back, Melanie had thought the party sounded like fun. Jack, on the other hand, didn’t seem too keen about the idea.

  Looks like Melanie got her way—per usual.

  But it was nice to know a couple more people here. It wasn’t an especially large party, after all. In fact, it seemed to have just the right number of guests. Enough to fill the place, but also, just the right amount to pull off a murder mystery—or I guessed that was the hope.

  Johnny slid Kate and Marcus their drinks. They wandered off without us, chatting together and lost in themselves.

  So much for a wing woman.

  Kate was all smiles, all giggles. And it only amplified Kate’s already beautiful blonde look.

  “I don’t really want to get zozzled tonight, pull a Daniel Boone on a first date, ya know?” Luke told the bartender. “So, make mine a Shirley Temple. And the lady here will have—”

  Luke looked back at me.

  “I would like a Bee’s Knees, if you please,” I said, impressed with my own rhyming abilities.

  Johnny smiled and got to work.

  “I’m actually going to drive us home,” Luke explained his drink choice.

  “One, uh, Shirley Temple,” Johnny said loud enough for everyone around us to hear. To my surprise, Luke didn’t even cringe.

  “What exactly is a Bee’s Knees?” Luke inquired. “I don’t really order the unknown.” He looked a little bashful with the admission.

  Nothing wrong with not knowing his cocktails, I thought, just as long as he knows good food, we’ll get along fine.

  “Gin, lemon juice, and honey,” I recited it from memory. “I might have done a little reconnaissance on prohibition beverages before tonight. I’ve never actually had one before.”

  I knew some places didn’t use honey but preferred instead to use a simple syrup. Here in Georgia, local honey was plentiful, so I was pleased to see Johnny use a squirt bottle of honey, one I was sure I’d seen before at a local farmer’s market.

  “Here you go, doll face.” Johnny placed my drink on a cocktail napkin.

  We decided to meander around exploring the house for a bit but didn’t make it far. I wasn’t used to the heels and asked if Luke was fine with us sitting for a moment in the antique living room. He humored me without an issue.

  “Well, are you going to try it?” Luke asked. “Or just hold it all night?”

  “You caught me,” I admitted. “I’m actually a little nervous about trying it—which is not like me at all. Here goes nothing.”

  I took a teeny sip of my drink. It was a little sweet for my liking, but altogether not that bad.

  “Not too bad.” I gave him a wink.

  “Well, I’m glad it didn’t kill you to try something new,” Luke teased. “To be honest, I’m not too good with liquor. I much prefer a beer.”

  I liked this already. He wasn’t afraid to gently tease me. Something about him made me feel relaxed. I often found it hard to be myself around any guy I was interested in dating. It was yet to be determined if there was actually a spark. Then again, I wasn’t really one for sparks anyway. I was the kind of girl who didn’t know what I wanted until I figured out what I didn’t want. To date, this line of crossing guys off a list hadn’t gotten me much of anywhere in the romantic department.

  Luke sat back on the uncomfortable couch. He put his arm on the top of the couch just behind me but not around me. Then he scanned the room.

  I, too, decided to take in the scenery for a bit. I held up my phone and took a few more photos.

  So far, besides the people I came in with and Melanie and Jack, I hadn’t really recognized anyone. Which in a small town like Lanai felt odd.

  Where’s George? I wondered. He was the reason I was invited to the party in the first place. I thought it best if I found him for a chat before things got really started. But he was nowhere to be found.

  Then I heard the clicks of a shutter opening and closing in quick succession. And I found a face that was quite familiar. Ashley Erickson, one of Lanai’s best photographers, was snapping photos around the room.

  “Hey, Ashley!” I waved to her. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  She nodded. “George has me on loan for the evening. He’s going to use some photos from tonight for their website, I think. That’s why there’s a photo release in the packets you’ll get tonight.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “Make sure you get my good side. Though, I’m not sure which side that is.”

  “It’s this one.” Luke indicated my right side. Again, he was joking, and I liked it.

  “Have fun, you two,” Ashley said before taking a picture of the two of us. As she left our purview, George, with a woman at his side, entered the room.

  Interesting…

  Suzi Whelan stood beside him. It was a little jarring to see Suzi outside of Dr. Gilmore’s office. It was kind of like seeing a teacher outside of school when I was a little kid. I reconsidered saying hello. How would I explain knowing her to Luke? Would I sound crazy? Oh, this is Suzi, the secretary from my therapist’s office, I imagined myself saying.

  Then I imagined Luke’s response. He’d won me over thus far. This was a true test.

  “Do you mind if we go and see George for a second? I mean, Tommy, my pretend father? He’s the owner of the estate and pretty much the whole reason we’re here tonight.”

  “That’s fine with me,” Luke said. “And hopefully, we’ll find some appetizers along the way. I’m starving.”

  Just like a man. Always hungry.

  My tummy rumbled at the thought of food. Fine. Fine. No judgement.

  “Hi, George, I mean, Tommy,” I said. “Good evening, Suzi.”

  “Allie,” Suzi replied. “I was just wondering, who is this lovely gentleman with you tonight?”

  Everyone seemed to have a sparkle in their eyes when they looked at Luke.

  “Actually tonight, Allie’s playing the role of Jenny Mattonie,” George interjected. “Thanks again for coming,” he said to me.

  “This is my date, Luke,” I introduced him.

  “She means Max Goodwell,” Lu
ke said with a wink.

  This staying in character bit was a little trickier than I had anticipated.

  “Everything looks great,” I told George. “I know you’ve worked so hard, and it’s finally here.”

  “Thanks. I’m a little nervous,” George admitted. “This isn’t quite the local theater of twenty years ago. And it’s a little more immersive and interactive than that. I hope I don’t mess things up too bad.”

  “You’ll be great… Dad.” I winked.

  “I might need another cocktail to calm my nerves,” George said, and he downed his glass, wincing at the taste.

  “You stay here and make your rounds with everyone,” Suzi told him. “I’ll get your drink. What would you like this time?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” George hesitated. “You know I don’t usually drink. Hmmm. I guess I’ll go with a Side Car.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll try one too.” Suzi smiled back at me. Then she crossed over to the library to get drinks for the both of them.

  “I’ll see you later,” George excused himself. “I’ve got a few more hands to shake before we all get started.”

  4

  Servers appeared with silver trays of food. They circled the formal living room area. There were trays of oysters, meatballs with little forks in them, but the stuffed mushrooms were my favorite.

  I’m not sure how Luke did it, but he was able to juggle a cocktail, hors d’oeuvres, and a fake Tommy gun. He did so with a cool confidence, keeping our banter rolling along smoothly.

  Face to face conversation wasn’t my forte. I was much more comfortable behind a keyboard. But he was interested in the Foodie Files, and having read my features in the Lanai Gazette, we had plenty of restaurants to gab about. And since he was asking about my babies, I chittered on with no hint of stopping.

  Ever the gentleman, his eyes only glazed over once or twice.

  Marcus and Kate found their way back around to us. They were both looking slightly buzzed, having enjoyed too many of the cocktails already. I was thankful Luke was driving us back home.

  “I have never had oysters like that before,” Kate said slowly, pointing to the one I had my fingers wrapped around. “Did you try them yet?”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent sure they had champagne,” Marcus slurred. “My new favorite way to eat oysters.”

  “They’re quite good,” I said before diving in. “They were considered a delicacy during the twenties. Oysters in a champagne mignonette.” I liked that they had an authentic appetizer.

  “I’m not one for oysters,” Luke admitted. “I only like them fried. But let’s be honest, fry anything, and it’ll taste good.”

  “Amen to that!” Marcus held his hand up for a high five, but with Luke’s hands full, he only offered his Shirley Temple. We all lifted our glasses in unison.

  With the food and drinks flowing, the party had really picked up steam. The place was abuzz with chatter. The vibe radiated with electricity, authentic to the Roaring Twenties.

  “Have you guys seen the photo booth yet?” I asked.

  “Wait. There’s a photo booth?” Kate tugged my arm.

  “Yeah, George mentioned it the other day.”

  “Let’s go find it.”

  We squeezed through the crowd, noticing the booth at the end of the hallway, just past the main ballroom and dining area.

  Melanie and Jack were finishing up inside. We did quick introductions, Melanie loading up her gossip cannon with all of Luke’s details, something I was sure would come back to bite me at Sunday dinner with the family. She was always interested in my love life while she and Jack were like a household name without the household. I couldn’t count the number of times my grandmother asked her when Jack was going to propose.

  Marcus and Kate went straight on in, striking poses and using some of the props provided.

  “Get in here,” Kate called us over.

  Then Luke and I hopped inside with the two of them. The backdrop was made to look like a lineup wall at the police station, complete with accurate height markings. I made a mental note that Luke was above the six-foot mark, but just shy of Marcus in the height department.

  “You take this.” Kate thrust a letter board into my hands. It read, County Jail Inmate Number 11022011.

  I gave a chuckle, and then posed for our lineup. Then we finished off with a few goofy group shots together, Marcus and Kate were kissing in each one. The closest Luke got to me was to give me bunny ears.

  “See! I told you would like him,” Kate whispered as we exited the photo booth.

  “The jury’s still out,” I told her. “But I am having a good time.”

  “Now, there’s a good-looking bunch.” George Wilson and Suzi bent over the table covered with photo booth props. George donned a fedora while Suzi threw on a long pearl necklace. Wrapping it around twice, it still hung well below her neck.

  George wasn’t as calm or collected as he’d been earlier. His forehead glistened with sweat. Maybe it was nerves, or alcohol, or a combination of both. But something was off about him.

  Tonight’s a big night, I reminded myself. Like usual, I was reading too much into the situation.

  Marcus led us back toward the bar. Like the rest of the mansion, it had a polished and antique feel. If it was actually new, I wouldn’t know it.

  Johnny was still hard at work making drinks. An old fashioned for Marcus, mint juleps for the two ladies, and another Shirley Temple for Luke. Johnny must’ve used half the jar of maraschino cherries, making the drink look even more ridiculous. I noticed him give Luke a coy wink, teasing him.

  So far, the biggest criticism that could be found was that there was only the one bar tender working. An easy problem they could fix in the future.

  We grabbed our drinks and made our way to an open cocktail table.

  Then suddenly, the lights flickered off and on once or twice.

  And Mara stepped out, looking far more put together than we’d seen earlier on the porch steps.

  “Please, if you all could make your way to the ballroom for dinner, mystery, and intrigue.” She put on her Southern accent thick.

  The crowd moved in one slow herd to the ballroom. But as the party shifted, the mood stayed electric.

  I had butterflies of excitement in my stomach. Now, the evening was truly getting started.

  We grabbed our place cards from a table just inside the wide ballroom doors. Table two—it sounded good enough for me, just close enough to the action. My tummy grumbled, hopeful that it would also be second in line for food service.

  There were four others already seated at the table, two of which were recognizable faces.

  “Oh, yay! Y’all are with us,” Melanie chirped with excitement. “These are our new friends, Patrick and Greg. I forget their character names… Or were those your character names?”

  “Those are the real ones,” the man she introduced as Patrick laughed.

  Admittedly, the name game was confusing. We took turns introducing ourselves with our true identity and then with our fake. Name tags, I made a mental note for George, next time they did this they needed to use name tags—at least for the character names.

  Our first course, soup, arrived after only a few minutes of chitchatting with our table mates. The tomato soup was a darker shade of red than most. First blood for the night, I thought with a sinister laugh. Even my inner-monologue was getting into the murder mystery spirit.

  I snapped a photo of it. We sipped our soup, all of us except Luke. Apparently, tomato soup wasn’t his cup of tea. Or rather, cup of soup.

  “You should really try it,” I encouraged him. “It’s not bland like most tomato soups. In fact, it’s almost like a spaghetti sauce. There’s basil in it.”

  Luke reluctantly broke a piece of a baguette and dipped it. He took a nibble, almost like a child’s bite. Then a cheesy grin spread across his face. “You know what, it’s not half-bad,” he admitted.

  “Oh, Luke,” Kate chimed in, “this
girl has impeccable taste. You’ll need to listen to her. If she says something is good, it’s good. If she says something is bad, well, then it’s probably adequate for public consumption. We don’t all have her tastebuds, after all.”

  “She’s right,” Melanie added. “Allie knows what to eat at just about every restaurant in the state. She’s never led me astray.”

  I couldn’t help but notice that while Luke said the soup was good, he didn’t touch it again but instead took a few bites more of the baguette.

  Mara found our table. She’d donned a feather boa and earrings the size of tea saucers since the last time we’d seen her. Along with managing the event, she was also standing in as a server. She took our drink orders. Luke and I opted for water. Marcus and Kate requested another of the same, pointing at their empty cocktails.

  “It’s time for a few introductions,” George said. “I’m Tommy Mattonie, and I’m the boss around here.” He gave Mara an eye, like the announcement was meant just for her.

  George gestured for the first table to stand and introduce themselves to the crowd of onlookers. Next, it was our table’s turn. George rested his hands on the back of Kate’s chair as she stood.

  “I’m Misty Minx, and this is my club. Don’t y’all forget who’s really the boss.” Kate threw out a wink for the crowd, so that George couldn’t see.

  It was my turn. And now I was regretting my lack of cocktail encouragement.

  “I’m Jenny Mattonie. Tommy is my dad.” I promptly sat back down, a bead of sweat beaded on my forehead—this despite the room being almost as cool as the outside air. Public speaking just wasn’t my thing.

  But solving this case was. After all, I’d helped to solve one real murder. How hard could a fake one be? I listened intently as everyone else introduced themselves. Everything said mattered, and I didn’t want to lose track of any detail.

  “Thanks for letting us all get to know you,” George announced with gusto. “Now, on to your salads.”

  A classic Waldorf salad, not really one of my favorites. It wasn’t the fruit or the nuts, a bit of sweetness or crunch is something a salad needs. But celery? Let’s be honest, the only thing good with celery was a jar of peanut butter.