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

by Christine Zane Thomas

  “No.” He shook his head. “I never actually left the estate. I got some fresh air. Cooled off a bit—literally. Went down to the barn and checked on the horses. Then I sat and stared at the stars for a bit. When I got some texts about Dad dying, I went back up to the main house.”

  “Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts during the party?”

  “If I had an alibi,” he said starting to get frustrated, “do you think I’d be in here right now?”

  “No, I guess not,” I admitted. I got to thinking about the actual bottle they found. “Were your fingerprints on the bottle of nicotine?”

  “No, they weren’t,” he confirmed. “The cops said I probably just wiped it clean. But why would I leave it in my car if I was cleaning up after myself?”

  “Valid point,” I agreed. “So, you really don’t know what George and Mara had argued about? Did she want more stock in the company?”

  “Maybe.” He sounded defeated. “I wish I knew.”

  We sat there a moment and let everything sink in. Suzi wiped away a rogue tear that fell down her cheek.

  “I’ll figure it out,” I told him with as much confidence as I could muster.

  “I hope you can.”

  Suzi thanked me profusely as I dropped her back at Dr. Gilmore’s office. She went home for a much-needed weekend. For me, the day wasn’t yet over. I had a double date to get ready for, and I didn’t want to leave Luke stranded by himself with gooey-eyed Marcus and Kate for too long.

  18

  “What happened to you?” Kate hissed into my ear as I slid beside her in the booth. O’Grady’s Pub, the bar she’d chosen, was doing a booming Friday night business—per usual.

  The boys were up at the bar getting drinks. I saw Luke smile at something Marcus told the bartender. I hoped he wasn’t ordering a Shirley Temple.

  “What do you mean?” I asked Kate with a frown.

  “Scoot out.” She nearly shoved me out of the booth. Then she dragged me off toward the ladies room. “You're an absolute wreck,” she chastised me before the door had time to close behind us.

  The bathroom lighting was bright, exactly the opposite of the dimly red-lit bar. I glanced in the mirror above the sink. I saw no problems with my appearance whatsoever—ponytail, natural makeup, and a plaid button-down shirt with my favorite pair of jeans.

  “Just hold still and let me work my magic.” Kate pulled my ponytail holder out, then ran her fingers in my hair. She pulled a bit of hair from the front and did a quick braid. Then she tied it off with a clear band from her purse. It was much like she did before the Murder Mystery Party, only done in seconds and with other women flushing toilets and washing hands beside us.

  “Look this way.” Kate grabbed a cosmetic’s case from her purse. She added some rogue to my cheeks. The actual name of the color on the label made me blush just thinking it. “Here. You can put on the lipstick and mascara yourself.”

  I opened the lid to the lipstick and turned it a smidge. A berry shade of pink. I shook my head at the color but applied it anyway. With a shaky hand, I donned the mascara.

  The girl looking back in the mirror could’ve been my evil twin. It definitely wasn’t the same girl who’d walked into the bar a few minutes ago.

  “Just one more thing,” Kate said. She reached for my blouse and unbuttoned an extra two buttons. I made a brief attempt to complain, but she shushed me. “Na ah. Not tonight. Tonight, we’re not in our heads. We’re here.” She swirled her finger.

  “And here.” She pointed to my cleavage. Kate sure was trouble.

  Moments later, we emerged from the restroom and joined the guys at the booth. Kate slid in next to Marcus. There went my idea of boys’ and girls’ sides. But when Luke’s jaw dropped seeing me, I warmed up to the notion of cozying up next to him for the rest of the evening—even if I felt a little pressure coming from all sides after Kate’s kerfuffle in the bathroom.

  “You look great!” He went in for a kiss on the cheek, hugging my side similar to the way he did at Piggies. “What can I get for you from the bar?”

  It had been a tough day. Visiting Blake had done a number on me. But something strong sounded like a bad decision. “I’ll take a Pinot Grigio,” I said after a long pause to think it through.

  He was up at the bar ordering in a flash. When he came back, he handed it to me looking a lot like a golden retriever. I fought the urge to say, “good boy,” and went with a simple, “Thank you.”

  “You're very welcome.”

  Kate sensed my mood. She indicated for me to get out of my head as she and Marcus took over conversation.

  I took a few deep breaths and several swigs of the wine. Before I knew it, we were laughing and having a good time.

  Everyone shared a little bit about their work week. I shared about the new coffee barista. Kate shared about a think piece she was working on for next week. Thankfully, Marcus only shared a good story—one about rushing a kid with a broken leg to the hospital, and the kid telling them on the drive there that he wanted to be an ambulance driver just so he could drive as fast as he wanted.

  Luke had brought donuts to every doctor’s office he’d visited this week. He laughed maniacally at how many New Year’s resolutions he had wrecked so far this year. He had a sick since of humor that I highly approved of. Then Marcus joked that Luke, too, looked like he’d gained five pounds. The boys agreed to work it off the next morning at the gym.

  As my laughter ebbed, I swiped away the happy tears falling down my cheeks. This was exactly what I needed after such a stressful week.

  Behind us, the packed bar thumped with loud Irish music.

  Over the course of the evening, the sound of laughter and cheers at the basketball game on TV drowned out the hum of the bagpipes.

  My eyes lingered on the crowd underneath the TV. A few of the guys were vaguely familiar. My brain worked hard to place this group. Finally, it all clicked into place when one of them separated from the pack and headed for the men’s room.

  Javier.

  As soon as I saw him, I diverted my gaze away from the group of law enforcement. But when he found his way back to them, so, too, did my eyes.

  I did try to keep up with the conversation at our table, but Marcus and Luke had started talking about working out—again—for the umpteenth time. And not running, working out. Running I could deal with. But working out? Let’s just say that lifting heavy things wasn’t in my repertoire. I usually needed my mom’s help to get my mixer anywhere other than the cabinet where it was stored.

  So, every minute or so I would glance over in Javi’s direction, then subtly glance back. Or maybe not so subtly. Kate gave me the evil eye. She caught me, and she didn’t approve.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed to her. I tried to get my head back in the game.

  “Allie, have you gone on any long runs lately?” Kate tried to help too.

  “Yeah,” I said, exasperated. “Let me tell you about the run with the track club the other day.” I told them about the long run and the people I’d met to get my quotes for George’s article.

  “So, tomorrow’s paper, right?” Luke was enthusiastic to read my article.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  I glanced away. This time only for a second. But my gaze caught Javier's from across the room. And his eyes held mine. I smiled at him. He returned it with a smile of his own.

  “Right, Allie?” Kate asked.

  “Yeah,” I said as nonchalantly as was possible. I had no clue what I was agreeing with. “What was that, again?”

  “I was telling Luke that you'll give him some pointers. He thinks he wants to train for a half marathon.”

  “Oh, cool,” I said, remembering my conversation with Javier at The Java Hutt. Javier stood up and headed toward the bar. If I wanted to talk to him away from his police buddies, now was the time.

  “Yeah,” Luke said, “if you’d like to go for a run or something—I could really use some pointers.”

  “Sure,” I s
aid, half-listening. “Hold on a second. I’ll be right back.” I smiled weakly at Kate and eased out of the booth.

  “Be quick,” she basically pleaded.

  “Javi!” I called, tapping him on the shoulder. I thought he might be getting another drink or paying his tab.

  He turned around and gave me a half-hearted smile, almost a grimace. “Hey, Allie,” he said. “Is everything all right?”

  “I just wanted to say thank you again, ya know, for helping with Suzi and Blake.”

  “I put your name on a list—one Blake could’ve done himself. No need to thank me. I wish I could do more.” His thoughtfulness never ceased to amaze me.

  A woman arched her neck from behind him. Her hand felt for his shoulder. “Javi,” she said, “aren’t you going to introduce us?”

  He stepped back, and she came into focus. This woman needed no introduction. It was Clara Clearwater, Channel Seven’s lead reporter, and Kate’s bitter rival.

  All my breath left my lungs.

  “Sorry. Sorry.” Javier cringed. “Allie, this is my girlfriend, Clara. Clara, this is the food blogger I was telling you about, Allie Treadwell.”

  Girlfriend? How much had I missed in the last couple of months? I was sure he was single when he’d worked on Jessica’s case. I wondered how long or short-lived this relationship was.

  “It’s a pleasure,” Clara said. “Javi said you two are coffee shop friends.”

  The way she said it—friends—made me want to grind my teeth.

  “Clara was having a drink with a colleague, but he just left.”

  “And I’m not about to chum up with those fellas.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Javier smirked. “It’s all right. It's been a long day, and Brutus needs to be let out.”

  “Oh, you have a dog?” I asked.

  “Yeah, American Bulldog.”

  “Cool.” I didn’t know how to best end our conversation. So, I just went for it. “I’ll see you later. It was nice meeting you,” I lied to Clara.

  Before making it back to Kate and company, it looked like I was hardly being missed.

  “Was that who I think it was?” Kate asked.

  I nodded. “Clara Clearwater. His girlfriend,” I declared for the whole table to hear. “I had to tell him thanks. He did my friend, Suzi, a favor today.”

  “Cool,” Luke said. He didn’t seem too interested in learning more about Javier. In fact, he seemed as disinterested as was possible. We were cut from the same cloth, and I wasn’t sure that was a good thing.

  I stayed for one more drink before excusing myself to go home. Luke made only the slightest of protests. My head just wasn’t in it. Not after that.

  TO: Foodie Allison

  FROM: Daniel Froning

  SUBJECT: This morning’s paper

  Allie,

  I just wanted to say your article this morning really put a smile on my face. And not just because of the quote with my name mentioned. George was such a good man, a pillar of this community. Your article articulated that in the best way.

  Thanks again,

  Danny

  P.S. You’re welcome to join us for another run anytime.

  19

  The act of moping through the door of my mom’s house got her attention. The problem was it wasn’t an act.

  “Allie… Are you okay?” Mom poked her head from the bathroom. She was still getting ready for the wedding. I’d put far less effort into my makeup compared to Kate’s date night exhibit. Then I donned a simple blue dress.

  “I’m fine,” I mustered.

  “All right,” she said, unconvinced. “I’ll be right out.”

  Mom’s pups, Bella and Nicky, greeted me with all the puppy kisses anyone could ask for. “Hey, sweeties.” I kneeled down to give them the attention they pretended to be lacking. “I missed you too.”

  After the initial onslaught of affection, Bella went back to being Mom’s shadow. I sat on the couch where Nicky found a spot on my lap to wrinkle my dress and cover me in dog hair—the dachshund in his natural habitat.

  “What's up?” she asked, putting in an earring. “Do I need to go get the Chunky Monkey?”

  “No. No Chunky Monkey, just yet,” I said.

  “Good—cause I’m sure there’ll be cake.”

  “There always is.” I smiled.

  “Really, what’s up?” she asked.

  “It’s nothing,” I lied. “Just being an adult is hard.” So hard, in fact, that I couldn’t actually place what was wrong. Last night’s date hadn’t gone well. And I had mixed feelings about seeing Javier with Clara Clearwater. The type of mixed feelings where my head and my heart were having some sort of disagreement. I wanted to wish them—that is, him—well. I wanted to think Javier dating was a good thing. But something inside me kept shooting down those thoughts.

  “It sure is hard,” she admitted. “I'd like to tell you it gets easier. But it only gets, uh, different.” She squeezed my shoulder before placing her other earring. “We can talk about it if you want. Is it work? Everyone is raving about your article on George today. Is it the boy? Did you have another date? I might not have all the answers, but I sure can listen.”

  Mom knew the right things to say. Sometimes friends wanted to try to solve problems, and while that can be great—sometimes—most of the time I just wanted to be able to vent in a judgement-free zone.

  “It’s not work,” I conceded but didn’t give her much else to go on.

  “I have news,” she said. “But if you’re not feeling it, well…”

  “Just tell me.”

  “It’s about Melanie,” Mom said.

  “What about Melanie? Is she still hung up about George’s death?”

  “Oh, no. Not that. It’s good news. Jack finally popped the question.”

  “And?”

  “And what do you think? She said yes! We’re having Jack’s family over for a little party in place of Sunday dinner. I’d love for you to invite this Luke fella—unless, of course, he’s who you’re hung up about. Oh, and I invited Kate.”

  “Wait… you invited Kate? When did you get Kate’s number?”

  “You know,” Mom said. “A few months ago. At Jessica’s funeral.”

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes. If Kate and Marcus were coming, I’d feel bad leaving Luke out.

  “Melanie’s already dead set on Bentley’s. I’m eager to see what this place is all about.” Mom gathered her keys and her purse, eyeing my comfortable position on the couch. The dog was still curled on my lap. I wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.

  “It’s a great place for a wedding,” I admitted. “It’s Mara Murdock I’m not so sure about.”

  “Don't let Mara Murdock get under your skin,” Mom said. “She’s just used to getting her way.”

  “It looks like she might. Honestly, I think she might be involved in George’s murder.” I hadn’t actually meant to spill that to Mom, who seemed to lose her wind.

  “I hope you’re wrong,” she told me. “But she’s probably heard enough criminal secrets to know how to get away with a crime or two. Her husband being Doug Murdock and all. There isn’t a loose criminal in the county who he didn’t help get off.”

  “I didn’t even think of that.”

  Mom sighed but opened the door. “Dang it, Allie, now I’ve got the heebie-jeebies. To think, we’re going to a wedding there right this minute.”

  I moved Nicky and brushed his stray hair off my dress. “It’ll be all right, Mom” I said. “I think we’re good. We don’t have a business she wants to steal.”

  20

  The wedding was sweet, if a little cold. It was held at the barn on the estate—the place where Blake had retreated the night of his father’s murder.

  While it might’ve once held animals, there was no hint that it did so these days. The horses had a much newer stable further down the pasture. This place was a mere backdrop, just a frame of a building—much like the picturesque scenery beh
ind it, full of bare pecan trees and sloping hills. Inside, there were hay bales and straw aplenty. Four large heaters, the kind used for outdoor seating at restaurants, were placed strategically around the interior of the barn. Mom insisted we sit as close to one as possible, putting us toward the very back without much of a view of anything.

  I noticed the photographer carefully ensured the heaters were out of each shot. I was never sure how I felt about action shots during the wedding itself. They tended to be a distraction. There were at least three snaps of the shutter while Gracie and her groom, Chad, recited their vows.

  The recessional passed us. The bride and groom walked out to the traditional Mendelssohn's Wedding March. For some reason I got butterflies in my stomach. My head was abuzz, too. Not because of the wedding itself—though thoughts of love were buried inside there somewhere. But no, that wasn’t what set my mind awhirl. It was the up-close view of the photographer.

  Ashley Erickson had taken photos during the Murder Mystery Dinner Party. Why hadn’t I thought of contacting Ashley before? I wondered if Javier had looked through her photos? Surely, if Blake had come back to the party, he’d show up in the background of some of those photos. And if he wasn’t… I wondered if there was anything that incriminated Mara to be found.

  “Mom, I’ll be right back.” As she and the rest of the guests made their way up to the house for cocktail hour, I wanted to get a brief word with Ashley. The newlyweds and the photographer made their way toward the other side of the barn where Ashley had staged several spots for yet more wedding photos.

  “Allie?” Gracie found me following them. “The cocktail hour is the other way.”

  “Congrats,” I told Gracie quickly. “I just need a quick word with Ashley. It’s business stuff. You understand.”

  “Oh, all right.” Gracie nodded, not completely understanding. There was gooseflesh all down her shoulders. Note to self, don’t get married in the winter.