Murder and a Texas Brisket

by K. M. Waller

  I didn’t care if Marlin won a million dollars at this competition. I still planned to find a different mode of transportation to get home. I picked at the edges of Austin’s harness. The kids were fine, I reminded myself. Alicia would call Marlin if something were wrong. Wouldn’t she? My anxiety took a turn toward climbing the stress mountain again.

  “How much longer? Be as specific as you can. Like in minutes.”

  “Three minutes give or take.”

  Three minutes, one hundred eight seconds. I tapped my FitBit. Almost five fifteen in the afternoon. Forty-five minutes until the competition ended, and I’d be looking for a ride to Shreveport.

  We approached a long rectangular, red cattle gate. An armed guard stood at the entrance, a rifle over his shoulder.

  “Why does that man have a gun?” My husband’s military experience meant I didn’t faint into a chair at the sign of guns, but that didn’t mean I trusted every soul who slung one around her hips or over his shoulder.

  “That million dollar prize,” Craig answered. He let down his window and spoke to the man at the gate. “I will need all your electronics and a picture I.D.”

  “Seriously?”

  “I’m afraid so. That’s how the secret competition is kept secret.” He gestured with his thumb out the window to the scary-looking man with dark sunglasses. “Or you have to wait here with Pietro.”

  I removed my FitBit and handed it to Craig. “My daughter has my cell phone, and Marlin has my I.D. in my bag in the truck.”

  At least I hoped it was still there under a pile of dog puke. Pietro could rifle through the gross and retrieve it if he needed it that badly.

  “I’ll be right back.” Craig hopped out of the truck and through the side mirror I could see him have a conversation with Marlin. She went into the kitchenette area and returned with my overnight back. Then she unclipped her wireless earpiece and handed that plus her cell phone to him.

  For the second time today, I cradled my head in my hands and wondered why I’d allowed things to get so far. Austin’s tongue slobbered against my knuckles and I rubbed his head again, giving him a little kiss on top of the head.

  Craig handed all the items to Pietro and I could see the guard’s jaw set rigid as the smell of day old dog puke smacked him in the face. He tossed everything down in a pile and pushed the gate open.

  “Well, isn’t he a ray of sunshine,” I mused.

  Craig settled in the driver’s seat. “He’s one of the friendlier guys on the payroll.”

  Unease prickled against my skin. “Is there any chance you could take Marlin to the competition and then find a ride for me to Shreveport?”

  “How about this, Ms. Beanie? After the competition, I’ll drive you to the airport myself.”

  I twisted my lips to hide the smile. I didn’t correct him with my real name. And although I loved the name Beatrice, one I shared with my grandmother, something in the way he said the nickname made me feel special.

  I guess I wouldn’t mind spending the next hour with Craig. “Deal.”

  He gestured in front of him. “Welcome to Casa de la Spuds.”

  Oh, my. I’d been so focused on the guard and Craig that I hadn’t noticed the stately home until the truck rolled onto the exposed brick drive. The Mediterranean three-story house sat behind an elegant decorative fountain and lush green shrubs. A few oak trees framed the yard.

  “Worth staying a little while longer?” he asked.

  I cracked my door and stumbled onto the drive. Austin wriggled in my arms so I set him down but held tight to his leash. I could spend days exploring a mansion like that. There had to be at least eight bedrooms. Five or six bathrooms. I’d get lost counting all the beautiful things in a house that size.

  Marlin joined me and threw an arm around my neck. She leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Your widow funk busted yet?”

  4

  Before I could remind Marlin that widow funk didn’t accurately describe my situation a portly man in a gray seersucker suit burst through the front door. His waxed, handle-bar mustache bounced with the heavy breaths he puffed out of his mouth. “Where is she at, Craig? I need to shake the hand of the woman who has the brass neck to demand to enter my private competition.”

  I nudged Marlin’s arm until it fell off of my shoulder. “He means you.”

  “I’m Mary Lynn Perkins, Mr. Spudson, sir.” She flounced up the stairs that led to the house and performed an inelegant half-curtsey. “But you can call me, Marlin. Everyone does.”

  He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his whisker-covered mouth for a kiss. “Aren’t you a treasure, ma’am. You remind me of my first missus. I like a woman who isn’t afraid to go after what she wants.”

  Craig cleared his throat or laughed, I couldn’t be sure which one. I cringed. Austin grunted and scrubbed his butt across some bricks.

  Marlin clasped her hands in front of her and turned toward me. “Where are my manners? This is my teammate, Ms. Beanie O’Rourke. But don’t worry about her last name. She’s as southern as you and me.”

  I blinked hard at the back-handed comment.

  “Well, ladies. I don’t normally do this but we had a contestant no show, so you’re in.” He pulled a timepiece out of the suit jacket’s top pocket. “But you only have forty-five minutes to get your meat on a plate in front of the judges. Craig will show you where to park the truck.”

  Craig nudged my shoulder, and it hit me I didn’t hate the contact between us. “You can walk on around the side path with your little hound. The competition area is behind the pool house.”

  For the first time all day my smile might have shown my full set of pearly whites. A pool house meant a pool and that meant patio chairs where I could relax and watch the sunset until the shenanigans subsided. Then Craig would take me to the airport and maybe I’d offer to buy him dinner as a thank you.

  A ping of guilt hit me over considering a date. I squashed it. A thank you dinner couldn’t be considered a date.

  I allowed Austin to guide me along a gravel path which led through a tall maze of shrubs. Country music in the style of fiddles and steel guitars grew louder the closer we got to the end of the path. I inhaled the smell of cooking barbeque and my stomach rumbled with excitement.

  If the front of the mansion had impressed me, it paled in comparison to the scene that unfolded as I emerged from the greenery.

  The Olympic-sized pool had the bluest water I’d ever seen but my focus stayed on that area for only a few seconds. Three large tents filled the yard of the estate, one of which held the live country music band. The second tent had an armed guard at the entrance who closely resembled Pietro at the main gate. A sign attached to the tent read Judges Only.

  They’d set up the third tent like a royal court. On a platform a king and queen’s thrones sat side by side. A woman with white-blonde hair teased an inch away from her face in three directions wore a sparkly blue ball gown and a ribbon announcing her as Miss Rib Town Texas 2010 sat on the queen’s throne. Her plump lips and wrinkle-free forehead gave her a look of boredom. A digital rectangle timer sat on a table in front of the former beauty queen, it’s time counting down from forty minutes.

  Two waiters in tuxedos stood at opposite ends of the royal tent balancing a silver tray with several glasses of champagne flutes. The notable missing element of the set up was attendees. Where were all the other people? I guess secret competitions meant no outside news or onlookers.

  Marlin’s food truck rumbled around the side drive and parked close to three other trucks with smokers and grills.

  I picked up Austin. We needed to move faster than his stubby legs would allow. I fast-walked past the pool, pool house, and three tents to get to the food staging area.

  Craig met me at the taco truck and addressed Marlin and me as if this was a normal occurrence. “Y’all got a few official rules to follow. One, you stop cooking when the timer goes off. Two, you gotta be in matching uniforms. Three, you don’t set foot near
the judges’ tent.”

  I set Austin down and hooked his leash to a knob on the side of the truck. “Marlin, this is um…” I honestly didn’t know how to describe the situation but all of it made me uncomfortable. The other contestants didn’t even glance in our direction as they danced around their food, snapping instructions at each other.

  “Don’t worry, hon. We got this.” Marlin climbed on the truck.

  I followed and tried to keep the panic out of my voice. “We don’t have uniforms.”

  Her expression brightened. “I was going to wait to surprise you with a gift at the end of our adventure together.” She opened a cupboard and withdrew a plastic bag. “Close your eyes.”

  “No.” The last time I’d closed my eyes with Marlin in charge I’d lost my shoes.

  She tsked and withdrew two neon green shirts, tossing one to me.

  I held it up and read the front out loud. “Not today Satan. I travel with Jesus.”

  Marlin slipped hers over her head and wiggled around until the shirt settled over her curves. “They’re our matching road trip shirts. We’ll wear them for every adventure.”

  Mine said XL on the tag and I worked out she’d make these shirts for her and her now deceased husband. “I’m positive this will be our only adventure.”

  She winked and bumped her hip against mine. “Never say never, sweetums. Now get your shirt on and let’s get the brisket ready.”

  She unhooked her gun belt and set it on the counter.

  “I don’t understand.” I pulled the shirt over my head. Even though I often wore a women’s large, the shirt hung on me like a potato sack. At least the green would accentuate my hazel eyes and strawberry blonde hair. “They took our electronics but let you keep your gun?”

  She shrugged as if being cut off from the outside world didn’t bother her.

  “How are we cooking a dry-rub Texas brisket in thirty minutes?”

  “Oh, I cooked that thing yesterday at home. Took me all day to get it perfect. All we need to do is heat it up and get it on a plate.” She took out a key and unlocked the front panel that opened the service window. Then she reached under the cabinet in front of the flat stove and twisted a few knobs. “Ricky Lynn might have the recipe but she doesn’t have Memaw’s skills like I do.”

  From what I could tell Marlin knew how to run a food truck. She moved around efficiently and effectively as if she’d had this part of the trip planned for days.

  “Grab that cooler under the driver’s seat, hon,” she directed me.

  I hadn’t noticed the blue Yeti cooler until that moment. I dragged it to the kitchenette and watched in awe as Marlin removed a fully cooked brisket and dropped it on the counter. She took a culinary super slicer and worked off the charred ends. “The brisket ends are the best kept secret. That’s what Memaw taught me. This is what’s going to win us that prize.”

  Outside the serving window, one of the tuxedo waiters set up a small card table and placed a large serving plate in the middle. His blonde hair spiked up in all directions.

  “My name is Gérard. Please let me know if you ladies would like a glass of champagne.” His French accent seemed out of place with all the southern twang.

  “No, thanks, hon!” Marlin yelled out the serving window. “We’ll celebrate after our win.”

  “What can I do to help?” I asked, surprised the words came out of my mouth.

  “Just sit there and look pretty.” Marlin tossed all the meat she cut in a bag with light oil and tossed it onto the cooking range. The meat sizzled and popped and the smell had a dizzying affect.

  “Fifteen minutes,” someone yelled from outside.

  Marlin gestured to the door with her spatula. “Go spy on the others and let me know what’s going on.”

  “You want me to spy on the other contestants?” I thought about all the people in the vicinity with guns.

  “Mostly just Ricky Lynn. I need you to psych her out for me. Slip it to her in conversation about all the things I’ll do with that prize money. Like take a trip to Hawaii or something.” She scooped up some sizzling meat with silver tongs and slung it down on a plate. “Go on. You can’t miss her. She’ll be the tackiest looking thing out there.”

  Marlin appeared awfully calm to be in the running for a million dollars. I stepped off the truck and unhooked Austin. He needed water anyway, and I wanted to get a glimpse of the other contestants. If just to see if they thought all of this was complete madness like me.

  The different-sized trucks were parked side-by-side in the contestant area with at least twenty feet between them. The next truck and grill over were a man and a woman with bright red shirts that read Bubba’s Spicy BBQ. The man’s shiny brown bald head had a sheen of sweat making it glisten even more. The woman wore a red handkerchief over her neat cornrows. I could tell they were a husband and wife team because every time he gave her instructions she rolled her eyes at him. They focused on their tasks so I didn’t interrupt.

  The black pickup truck beside them had a smoker attached to the trailer hitch. Smoke billowed from the rusty smoker but the man in a blue apron didn’t hover over his meat like the couple had. He sat in a folding chair with a beer in his hand.

  He said, “Howdy,” and I responded with a short wave.

  Austin and I stopped in front of the final contestant truck. The woman in a cropped shirt and cut-off shorts resembled Marlin so closely in age and looks, I thought them to be twins instead of cousins. “Ricky Lynn?”

  “Who’s asking?” A rough-looking man with an unkempt beard and an eyepatch growled from behind the over-sized grill. A hook would have completed his pirate appearance. His and Ricky Lynn’s matching shirts had a skull and crossbones embossed in black.

  I backed up a few steps. “I’m a friend of Marlin and she asked me to come over and say hi to her cousin.”

  Ricky Lynn’s eyes bugged, and she gasped as if she’d swallowed a bug. She pointed and waved and slapped her arms.

  I backed up a few more steps. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

  “Five minutes,” Mr. Spudson shouted from his throne in the royal tent.

  When Ricky Lynn’s face went from a deep shade of red to purple, I tugged on Austin’s leash. “I’d better get back. Nice to meet you both.”

  I hoped Ricky Lynn didn’t have a gun too. Otherwise, we were on the road to an O.K. Corral shootout over a brisket recipe. And a million dollars which I guessed would be enough motivation for anyone to start a tiny war out here in no-man’s-land.

  Marlin waved me over to the card table where she put the food on the designated judges’ plate. She placed a silver cloche over the top. “How’d it go with Ricky Lynn?”

  “I think she’s having a seizure.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Marlin, you shouldn’t wish harm on anyone.”

  “You’re right, hon. Preacher Don would be terribly disappointed in me.” She came over and picked up Austin. After a couple of smooches on the head, she said, “Anyway, all I want to do is make sure she doesn’t win that thousand dollar prize with my Memaw’s recipe.”

  Ah, now her composure made sense. “I need you to set Austin down.”

  Her brow furrowed, but she did as I asked.

  “The prize money isn’t one thousand dollars,” I hesitated and immediately felt guilty that I tried to add more dramatics. “It’s one million dollars.”

  Marlin grabbed her chest and backed against the truck. “Have mercy on us from above.” She mouthed one million dollars.

  I nodded.

  “What would I do with that much money?”

  “Anything you wanted to?” I dropped the next bomb on her. “You also have to give the recipe to Mr. Spudson for his restaurant.”

  She squawked louder than any crow I’d ever heard. Austin let out a yip to accompany it. “There isn’t enough money in that man’s bank to make me give up Memaw’s secret recipe. What ever happened to a nice trophy and a reasonable cash prize for being
the best?”

  “Time’s up,” Mr. Spudson called out.

  The tuxedoed waiters trotted over to our area and picked up the food.

  “Wait!” Marlin yelled out and slipped off her shoes. She took off running after the waiter who headed straight to the judges’ tent.

  “What are you doing?” I called after her.

  “I changed my mind. I don’t want to enter this contest. I can’t give up Memaw’s recipe. She’ll roll ten times in her grave.”

  I scratched the back of my head. For a minute there I’d thought the theatrics of the day had settled. Not so much.

  The guard with the rifle stopped Marlin and made it very clear she wouldn’t be entering that tent. She huffed and stomped her way over to Mr. Spudson. I tied up Austin again and joined her at the tent. While I didn’t understand her reasons completely for throwing away a chance at a million dollars, I agreed they shouldn’t force her to compete if she didn’t want to.

  “Mr. Spudson, sir, I’m afraid there’s been an awful mistake.” Marlin placed a hand on her hip and graced him with a huge smile. “I need to withdraw from this contest. And so does Ricky Lynn.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. There are no take backs in this competition. It’s in the rules.”

  Her posture changed. “I don’t care about your rules. You ain’t getting my Memaw’s recipe.”

  “What’s that?” Ricky Lynn joined us in the tent with her pirate in tow. “You mean my Memaw’s recipe?”

  Marlin turned on her and for a split second I feared she’d foam at the mouth. She raised a fist. “Woman, I will smite thee.”

  “Goodness gracious, Marlin. Calm down.” I put myself between the cousins. “I’m sure we can discuss this all like reasonable adults.”

  Craig held up a piece of paper. “Ms. Marlin, you signed this before you parked the truck around back. It says you understand the rules. I asked you to read it carefully.”

  If I’d been in the truck instead of marveling over the mansion, I’d have read it carefully to her. “But you can’t force her to give you the recipe. Can’t you disqualify her?”