A Potluck of Murder and Recipes

by Jeanne Cooney

  “Are you okay?” She was going for concern, but I detected a hint of laughter.

  “I am now! Now that we’re out of there!” I stroked my head. “They practically pulled my hair out by the roots.”

  She coughed to cover up a chuckle.

  “It’s not funny! The evening was a complete waste of time. You weren’t any help, and I didn’t spot anyone with fresh bruises. Not that I really thought I would. But, I guess, I was hoping we’d uncover something since we went all the way over there and everything. Yet, we didn’t learn a thing. Nothing. Nada.”

  She twisted in my direction. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Why? What did you find out?”

  She pulled on the cuffs of her jacket. “Well, first off, I discovered that Janice Ferguson has been frequenting that place. Tiny said that since he’s been around, she’s come on to him a couple different times in there.”

  I had lots of questions and was surprised by the first one to pop out of my mouth. “Was she successful?”

  “Nah. But, according to him, she didn’t seem terribly troubled by it. She persevered and, more often than not, left with someone at the end of the night.” She sat back. “Apparently, on one or two occasions, the guy was Owen Bair.”

  “What?” Being a visual person, I pictured Boo-Boo and Janice doing the horizontal bop. I recoiled at the image, causing me to jerk the steering wheel.

  “Whoa!” Barbie shouted as we fishtailed across a patch of black ice.

  I held my foot off the brake and steered us out of the spin. “He was at least twenty-five years younger than her!” Those words were on the tip of my tongue when I went into the skid, making them the first to spill out afterwards.

  “I guess age wasn’t a concern to either of them at the time.”

  With my car sitting sideways on the highway, I concentrated on measured breaths and waited to speak until my heart rate returned to normal. “Well, it’s disgusting.”

  “You won’t get an argument from me. Remember, I’m not Janice’s biggest fan anymore.”

  I couldn’t look at Barbie as I confessed, “I feel like an idiot. Once upon a time, I loved that guy. Now I’ve discovered he’d bed just about anyone.”

  Barbie snorted. “From what you said earlier, you were well aware of his cheating ways long before tonight.”

  “But I always hoped he had some standards.” I eased the car back down the highway. “I guess he didn’t. A pair of human blow-up dolls in a hotel room wasn’t bad enough. He also had to take up with a cadaver look alike almost twice his age for last-call hookups in a small-town bar.” I found myself blinking back tears. “What does that say about me?”

  “Emme, his behavior is no reflection of you.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “That’s what I believe. I have to.” Her tone inferred she was alluding to her own situation as well as mine. “People need to take responsibility for their own actions.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “You’re crazy if you think you have any control over them one way or another.”

  We drove on in semi-silence, the music and the voices on the radio the only sounds inside the car.

  As I slowed for the County Road 5 intersection, Barbie piped up. “You know what?” She must have flipped an emotional switch of sorts because her tone was much lighter than it had been only minutes before. “We should go to Hallock.”

  “Why?”

  “To visit Janice.”

  “What?”

  “She’ll be at the holiday hockey tournament. Her nephew plays for Kittson Central, and she never misses his games.”

  “Why would we want to talk to her? It’s not as if she has a jealous husband or boyfriend who may have followed Boo-Boo into the park and killed him.”

  “True, but since she spent time with the guy, she may have learned things. Pillow talk, you know. Otherwise, she might have heard stuff while camped out on her barstool in the Maverick.”

  I wasn’t keen on the idea of reaching out to someone who had slept with Boo-Boo. Not that I was jealous. I wasn’t. His liaisons were just so tawdry they now had me judging myself, and I was coming up short. “It’s kind of late, isn’t it?” Nope, I didn’t want to visit Janice. Not that night, at any rate. I needed more time to nurse my wounded Irish pride.

  “Since it’s a tournament, games are played all afternoon and evening.” Barbie checked the time on her cell phone. “Kittson Central was scheduled to play last. They can’t be done yet.”

  She pitched her thumb to the right. “Turn here. Then take a left onto the Two River Turnpike. That’ll bring us to Highway 75. From there, we’ll go straight into Hallock.”

  I did as she said and made that first turn, while she mocked me for using turn signals in the middle of nowhere. I didn’t respond. I was preoccupied, racking my brain for a reason to postpone our face-to-face with Janice.

  Before coming up with anything, I got distracted by a weather report. During the winter, weather reports trump all else in the Red River Valley. In fact, they usually call for an uptick in the volume on the radio, which Barbie took care of right away. That allowed the announcer to detail, at nearly a shout, how temperatures were expected to fall to twenty below zero overnight and barely climb to five above on New Year’s Eve Day. He also described the forecast for the following week as “bleak,” nighttime temps dipping as low as thirty below with wind chills hovering around minus forty.

  Barbie yanked on the lapels of her jacket in an effort to pull them together. They didn’t quite reach. “Where are Margie and John going on their honeymoon?”

  “Costa Rica. For a month.”

  “Think they’d notice if I hid in their suitcase?”

  EVEN THOUGH IT WAS NEARLY ten o’clock at night, the hockey arena parking lot was crowded, and it took me a while to find an open spot.

  “Ready?” I asked as I switched off the engine.

  Barbie gawked at me as if I were nuts. “I’m not going with you.”

  “What?”

  “Janice hates me. She won’t reveal anything if I’m there.”

  “Well, if you’re not going, I’m not—”

  “You have to, Emme. She might know something that’ll help us clear Tom.”

  “Yeah . . . well . . . I’ve been thinking about that. Tom hasn’t even been charged with anything.”

  “And we have to keep it that way.”

  I scooted around in my seat until I faced her head on. “What happened to all that talk about people taking responsibility for their own actions?”

  “As I said, Tom’s not in any position to do that right now.”

  “You mean folks get to pick and choose when they’re going to be responsible?”

  Barbie knew she was on shaky ground. “Please, Emme. I need your help.”

  I slumped against my seatback. “I don’t want to confront her, especially by myself.”

  “You saw her last night, and you had no problem with that.”

  “That was before I learned about her and Boo-Boo. Now I’m afraid I’ll be picturing the two of them ‘together’ the whole time I’m talking to her.” I flinched. “It’ll be way too creepy.”

  “Wait a minute. You’d let Tom get arrested because interviewing Janice might be awkward?”

  She wasn’t going to guilt me. Not this time. “Awkward? You mean completely revolting.”

  “Emme, you’re being ridiculous.”

  “Well, I don’t see you—”

  “I can’t! She won’t talk to me.”

  “And I’m beginning to see why!”

  Barbie swallowed hard and blinked over and over again.

  When her eyes misted, I relented. “I don’t understand why I listen to you.”

  She exchanged her pout for a grin, all signs of tears miraculously disappearing. “You do it because you’re my dear friend, and you believe in justice and—”

  “Stop! Don’t say another word. I’ll talk to her this once. But no more.”

  �
��I’m not asking for more.”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached over the back of my seat to retrieve my down coat. “Tell me something.” I laid the coat across my lap. “How did you and Tiny end up discussing Boo-Boo in the first place? Whenever I was in the booth, you were completely engrossed in old times. And each other.”

  Barbie twisted her face. “I’m not exactly sure. I think Tiny mentioned something about the murder. He seemed fascinated by it.”

  I shot her a question-mark look, and she replied with, “Well, it’s not like someone gets killed around here every day, although whenever you visit, we—”

  “Don’t go there! You know how I hate getting teased about that.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t look it. “Anyhow, from what I gather, Tiny visited with Owen at the bar during the evenings. Since both of them were from out of town and happened to be staying at the same motel, they gravitated toward each other.”

  “But Tiny’s only been here a couple weeks.”

  “And, according to him, Owen Bair was around that entire time.”

  I pulled my scarf from the sleeve of my coat and wrapped it around my neck. “Did Tiny learn anything from him?”

  Barbie took a moment, ostensibly to collect her thoughts. “He told him about the wind farm project, but, apparently, he was more talkative early on. Over the past several days, he’d become withdrawn, as if bothered by something. Tiny said he still came into the bar but preferred to keep to himself.”

  “Except when he went home with Janice.”

  “I got the impression that relationship ended as quickly as it started. I don’t believe he was with her recently.”

  “And Tiny didn’t know what was troubling him?”

  “Nope. Although he was eager to hear my ideas.”

  I felt my eyebrows inch up. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing. I don’t know why, but, for some reason, I didn’t feel I should.”

  I reached out and patted her arm. “You know, if Janice hasn’t been with Boo-Boo recently, she may not have any useful information.”

  “True. But we won’t know until we ask.”

  “You’re throwing that ‘we’ around pretty loosely for someone who doesn’t plan to leave the car.”

  “Yeah, I suppose I am.”

  She didn’t sound the least bit contrite, leading me to grumble, “Hand me my boots.” They were on the floor in front of her. “I’ve never been in an arena that wasn’t freezing cold, and I’m not about to get frostbite on my toes.”

  I slipped off my fashion boots and stuffed my feet into my fleece-lined Uggs. “One more question, Barbie.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What if Janice is the killer?”

  She wrinkled her brows. “Where in the world did that come from?”

  “Well, we haven’t even talked about the possibility. Yet, you’re sending me to meet with her. All by myself.”

  “Emme, don’t be such a drama queen. The arena’s full of people. Nothing will happen to you in there. Besides, Janice may be a first-rate pain in the ass, but she’s not our killer.”

  I pulled on my gloves. “How can you be so sure? She was in Lake Bronson yesterday afternoon.”

  “True, but she’s a toothpick. She’s not strong enough to shove a man—a former athlete—over the ledge of the observation tower. It’s fairly high.”

  I absently stated, “I’d like to see it for myself.”

  “We can do that tomorrow morning.” Barbie smiled like the Cheshire cat. She was pulling me deeper into the case, and she knew it.

  “Besides,” she quickly added before I could make a comment along those lines, “she didn’t have a motive.”

  “You don’t know that. Maybe she was furious with Boo-Boo for dropping her after . . . ‘just a couple rolls in the hay,’ as Margie would say.”

  “Emme, if Janice killed every guy who dumped her after ‘just a couple rolls in the hay,’ half the men in the county would be dead.”

  “Well, she did cause at least one guy’s death.” I was referring to events of a few months back.

  “No, Emme, a crazy person was responsible for that. Not Janice.”

  I raised my gloved hand. “I thought you hated the woman. Why are you sticking up for her all of a sudden?”

  “I’m not. She drives me nuts. But we can’t cast aspersions on anyone. We need evidence.” She swept her hands, motioning for me to leave. “Now, go get some.”

  “Okay, okay.” I opened the car door and sucked in the frigid night air.

  “Hey! Turn the engine and the heater back on before you take off. It’s getting cold in here.”

  I did. Then, I stepped outside. “You so owe me.”

  “When we get back to Kennedy, I’ll buy you Cranberry Pudding at the cafe.”

  “Pudding will not be payment enough.”

  “Don’t be too sure. This is Cynthia Maloney’s pudding. It’s really good. And I saw where Margie hid it in the fridge.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I ENTERED THE ICE ARENA, climbed the stairs, and zigzagged through the crowd to the ticket table. An older woman decked out in a North Face jacket and a dark-green stocking cap with “Bearcats” knitted in red across the front accepted my money and handed me a program.

  Smelling freshly made popcorn, I followed my nose to the concession stand, where I waited in line while the three little boys ahead of me debated which Airheads to buy. Their decision finally made, they pushed their money across the counter, gathered fistfuls of the candy, and ran off, two of them using my feet as a springboard.

  I paid for my bag of popcorn and limped to the nearest corner to avoid getting trampled any further as folks pushed their way from the warming room to the bleachers along the ice to watch the final period of play. Once it was safe to move, I hobbled to one of the indoor benches overlooking the rink and began my search for Janice. No sense in getting cold if I didn’t have to.

  I munched on my popcorn and eyeballed the crowd, while the Zamboni finished resurfacing the ice. Not spotting her anywhere, I concluded that Barbie was wrong. Janice didn’t make it to every game. I wasn’t altogether disappointed, although between exiting the car and entering the arena, I had psyched myself up into visiting with her, so, in a way, I would have preferred to get it over and done with.

  A pat on my shoulder and I lurched, sucked in air, and choked on a popcorn hull. I coughed as I twisted around to find the woman in question standing behind me.

  “You okay?” Janice asked.

  “Yeah,” I wheezed. “But, I should quit eating. This is the third time today I’ve swallowed wrong.”

  She snorted. “Eating can be tough, with all that chewing and stuff.” She glanced from side to side before dipping her voice. “That’s why I stick to drinking for the most part.” She discreetly pulled a flask from her jacket pocket. “Want some?”

  I coughed a couple more times, unable to dislodge the hull. “If you don’t mind.” I snatched the metal decanter, halfway hidden in a mitten, and took a swig. Peppermint Schnapps. “Thanks.” I cleared my throat. The hull was gone.

  “What are you doing here?” She shoved the flask back into her coat pocket.

  “Well, searching for you, actually. I wanted to ask you about Owen Bair.”

  She appeared perplexed. “Why?”

  Since I couldn’t very well admit that my efforts were on Barbie’s behalf, I chose another route. “I went out with him a while back. I hadn’t seen him in ages. And, well, I heard you two were . . . ahh . . . dating, so I hoped you’d be able to offer some insight about what was going on with him before he died.”

  She smirked. “Who said we were ‘dating’?”

  “I’m not sure,” I lied. “I just heard it around.”

  Uncertainty creased her face. “Ed from the sheriff’s office already interviewed me.” Her features softened some. “But, I suppose, it wouldn’t hurt to tell you what I told him. It’s not a secret or anything. Besides, I owe you.
”

  I had helped her out a couple months back. In truth, I had almost gotten her killed. Still, if she considered herself indebted to me, who was I to say differently?

  “Owen and I went out exactly twice,” she stated softly, her words clearly meant for my ears alone. “And we didn’t do a lot of talking, if you get my drift.” I suddenly felt queasy, and it wasn’t from the Schnapps. “After that, I refused to see him. He was just too self-absorbed.”

  While I agreed with her assessment, I chose not to pursue a discussion about Boo-Boo’s shortcomings. What purpose would it serve? Moreover, I was scared what Janice might reveal. When it came to living, she was far more experienced than I was and much more willing to talk about her adventures, such as they were.

  “So,” I said, instead, “you had no idea what was troubling him?”

  “No, and I actually saw him yesterday, shortly before he was killed. Both of us were in the Maverick, but we didn’t talk. He was in a bad mood. Real crabby.”

  “Did he speak to anyone?”

  “No. Then, again, there were only five of us there.” She went on to offer up the names as she ticked them off on her fingers. “Owen, of course. Me. The bartender. And Burr Nelson.” She considered her thumb. “Oh, yeah, a guy everyone calls Tiny, too. He’s only been in the area a couple weeks. He supposedly works on a road crew, but he spends an awful lot of time in the Maverick.”

  “It’s been bitterly cold. Hard to do road work in weather like that.”

  “That may be, but I think there’s something fishy about him. He watches everybody real close. And he’s not the least bit friendly. I tried to make nice a couple times, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with me.”

  Maybe he wasn’t up to date on his shots.

  “Well . . . umm . . . why do you go all the way over to the Maverick to do your drinking?” That wasn’t what I’d intended to ask, but I was thrown by the nasty remark from the voice in my head.

  “I first went there a few months ago with a friend and had a great time. I really like the place. It’s laid back. People leave you alone for the most part. And those who do talk are nice enough.” Apparently she hadn’t been introduced to the bathroom bullies. “Plus, I don’t care to drink where I bartend because I always end up working.”