by Lynn Cahoon
“Not if someone’s trying to kill you, you’re not.” Felicia sipped her orange juice. “We’ve built a perfectly adequate staff so that you could be gone for a while and not have it affect the business.”
“So glad you consider me ‘adequate’.” Estebe tugged at Felicia’s hair. “But at the cost of my pride, she’s right. If you had to go, we would hold up the restaurant. And you know there’s such a thing as Skype, right? You might bring us some new exciting dishes from your exile.”
“From England?” Ian shook his head. “I think you haven’t traveled much. We’re kind of Plain Janes in the food department.”
“I thought that was a generality?” Estebe leaned forward, and the three of them continued their discussion on the value of English cuisine.
Angie kept digging. Finally, she found what she was looking for. An old picture of Jamie with two women. An older woman with a pinched face. Angie couldn’t tell if the clothes were as dark as they seemed in the black-and-white newspaper photo, but from the cut and style, she assumed they were. All three were being awarded ribbons from the county fair in North Carolina. His mother, Edna Johnson, had won the pickling contest; the sister, Jane, the baked breads division; and Jamie, who was only fourteen with high wader pants and a choppy home-done haircut, the cookie division. Angie bet that he was taunted mercilessly when he started high school. Had all serial killers had bullies in high school who made their lives miserable? She turned the laptop around. “His sister’s name is Jane.”
“And he has to have the worst haircut in North Carolina history. What is he there, twelve?” Felicia leaned in to see the picture closer.
“Fourteen. Which would make him just about to start high school. This couldn’t have been easy for him when he got around the jocks.” Angie shook her head. “I am not feeling sorry for him. He was going to do horrible things to me. He told me so.”
“Just because you understand the wolf, doesn’t mean he won’t bite.” Estebe looked at the clock. “If we’re going to be on time for the ceremony, we need to get Angie’s kitchen cleaned up.”
“I can do it when I get home.” She went back to the list of hits and looked for more information.
“I will not leave a house with a kitchen I dirtied. You just sit there and research. Maybe you’ll find out where this Ruth went to after high school.” Estebe got up and started cleaning out the sink.
“Can I use your shower?” Ian stood and picked up the tote that Dom had been using as a headrest.
“Of course.” She squeezed Ian’s hand as he walked by. “Estebe, you know I have a dishwasher.”
“Hand-washing dishes is relaxing. There have been a lot of not-so-relaxing things happening lately. I will choose relaxing for today.” He kissed Felicia on the cheek as she came up and started helping.
“Fine, don’t mind me. It’s just my house.” Angie didn’t feel as testy as her words seemed to portray. Besides, they didn’t listen to her anyway. She focused on the computer, writing down bits and pieces to hand over to Sheriff Brown. Of course, he probably had professional investigators doing the same thing, but this gave her comfort. She really wanted to be doing something. Yesterday had scared her, and she didn’t want to feel like a victim anymore.
By the time everyone was ready, she didn’t have much to report. She put all the towns and high schools and names into an email and sent it to Sheriff Brown’s account. She’d done what she could. Now it was time to go market her business.
She didn’t like this part of owning a business. To be seen at specific events just to show off the restaurant and hopefully bring in new customers. She glanced at her capris and tank and decided it was upscale enough just in case they did win. And as a bonus, she hadn’t spilled anything on the front of her while she’d been eating.
They took three cars since Ian was heading over to his aunt and uncle’s house after church. Felicia and Estebe had ridden together, and he promised he’d get her home. So that left Angie driving alone to the event. She didn’t mind. She could turn up the volume on the stereo or sing along with songs she loved. Being alone was a bonus since it hadn’t happened much lately.
They pulled into the fairgrounds at the same time and the teenager directing travel set them up one next to the other. Now all they had to remember was that they were on the Elephant Row, slots 200 through 202. Felicia grinned as she came out of Estebe’s Hummer and met Angie. “An elephant never forgets, so this is a good sign.”
“I’m not sure it works that way,” Angie countered, but Felicia wasn’t listening. She waited in the middle of the parking lot in front of the cars.
Waving, she giggled. “Let’s go! It’s the last day of the fair.”
“She really gets into this, doesn’t she?” Ian fell in step behind Angie, tucking his keys into his front pockets.
“Felicia loves a party.” Angie smiled as they followed Estebe and Felicia and made their way to the main gate. “When we’re done with this, I’m heading home. Precious needs some playtime, and Dom needs a walk.”
“Just be careful out there at Celebration. It’s a long way from anywhere.”
“Stop being an overprotective boyfriend. Geez, it’s like someone tried to abduct and possibly murder me yesterday.” She took his arm.
“Sure, laugh it up, but I was scared. And I’ll be scared until you call me and tell me you’re back home again, safe and sound.” He held up their passes, and after a bored glance at them, the teenage guard waved them inside. “I guess they’re ready for the fair to be over too.”
“It can be a little much—all the heat and food and party atmosphere. I’m sure I came home crying on more than on occasion to visit the fair when I was a kid.” She rolled her shoulders. “Seriously, I am out of here. No rides, no animal barns.”
“No corn dogs?” Ian pointed to the booth ahead of them. All week the line had been at least ten deep. Today, there was no one waiting. It was early, but still.
“Don’t get crazy.” Angie took off at a trot. “Do you want one?”
“We just had breakfast.”
Angie turned back, confused. “So that’s a no?”
“Get me one. Lots of mustard.” He pulled out his wallet and set a twenty on the counter before she could pull money out of her pockets. “I’m buying.”
“Okay, then. But this so doesn’t count as date night.” She leaned into his shoulder, waiting.
The girl behind the counter laughed. “You two are so cute. I don’t know why, but so many couples fight at the fair. Isn’t this supposed to be the happiest place on earth?”
“I think that’s Disney World,” Angie corrected, her mouth watering as the girl slathered mustard on the freshly cooked dog. She held out a hand, but Ian got there first.
“I pay, I get first dog. Especially since this isn’t a date.” He took a deep breath. “I so want to dig in, but I know it’s too hot and will burn my mouth.”
“That’s the best part.” Angie leaned on the counter watching her corn dog frying. “So, spill—were any of the couples Idaho-famous?”
“Like the actors who live in Sun Valley?” The girl shook her head. “No such luck. But the dead chef and his wife came by on Friday night. They were fighting.”
“Chef Nubbins?” Angie took the corn dog from the girl.
“That’s the one. Man, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d killed the guy. It just goes to show that you don’t know how much time you have on this earth. You have to treat everyone like it’s their last day.”
“Well said.” Ian took the change she handed back and then left a few dollar bills on the counter for a tip.
“I bet she’s going to wish she wasn’t such a witch to him when he called her Janey June.” The girl laughed. “You should have seen the fire light up in her eyes. She was red hot.”
As they walked away, Ian paused and took Angie to the side of the pathway where
there was a bench. “I want to make sure you’re okay before we go in. And no eating anything that I don’t hand you.”
“Triple J is in a jail cell. Maybe we should call him quadruple J now.” Angie took a bite of the corn dog. The tang of the mustard with the heat of the corn covering made her eyes water. “Wait, did we know that Mrs. Nubbins’s name was Janey June?”
Ian shook his head, focused on the corn dog. “I thought it was June. She introduced herself that way last night. Just June.”
“Then maybe Janey June is a family name. Like Jamie Jeremiah.” She thought about the two people. They both had red hair. Was that enough to call foul with siblings? “Call your uncle and ask him if they have Triple J’s family information yet.”
“You can’t be thinking…” Ian pulled his phone out.
Angie interrupted him. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. She did a quick turnaround in forgiving him for the affair with Tara. Framing her for his murder would be the icing on the cake.”
“Yeah, but what would Jamie get out of it?” He dialed a number.
Angie sighed. “That’s the question, isn’t it?”
Chapter 23
They didn’t have long to wait. At the end of Ann Cole’s presentation of the winner of Restaurant War to Sydney Cook, Sheriff Brown came into the audience and stood by Angie. “This thing is quite the show, isn’t it?”
“Sydney deserves to win. She cooked some amazing food during this whole thing. And she did it while building a person inside her tummy.” Angie waved at her friend, cheering as the audience started clapping.
“I was actually talking about the whole murder thing.”
Angie whipped around so fast she got a little dizzy. “Are you serious? You figured it out?”
He shook his head. “No, you figured it out. Janey June Johnson is Jamie’s sister. And for the last twenty years, she has been David Nubbins’s wife. She planned this whole show.”
“But why try to poison Sydney?” Angie glanced up at her friend who was still on the podium talking to everyone. And, she saw now, Mrs. Nubbins was up on the stage too. Two police officers were flanking the stairwells on both side of the stage. Janey June was oblivious to their presence, chatting with a tall, handsome man to her right. When she saw the police officers, there was nowhere for her to go.
As they led her down the stairs, she paused by Angie. “If my stupid brother had been thinking rationally, this would have ended a whole different way.”
“If your brother had been rational, you couldn’t have talked him into taking out your problem.” Angie stared into the woman’s cold eyes. There was no goodness there at all. No sadness. No guilt. Just anger.
“Get her out of here,” Sheriff Brown ordered the men. “You did Mirandize her when you put the cuffs on, right? I’d hate for this confession to get thrown out.”
Janey June Nubbins rolled her eyes. “Like I’ll spend even a night in jail. Money buys a lot of things, including bail.”
As they walked away, Angie felt Ian’s arm around her. “I’m going home. I’ve had enough of the fair for one year. Maybe even longer than that.”
* * * *
Monday morning when she woke up, she smelled the coffee and bacon and wondered who was in her kitchen cooking. Again. She could get used to this. She took her time getting ready and even put on a little tinted lip gloss. She could do with a date Monday.
When she got downstairs, Ian was sitting at the table with Mrs. Potter and Erica. They were all sipping coffee and eating doughnuts that Ian must have brought from town.
Angie went straight for the coffee cups. As she poured the life-giving liquid into her cups, she realized the people at the table had grown silent. Maybe she was still dreaming. She took a sip of the coffee, and her eyes widened just a bit. Nope, she was definitely awake. “If you’d told me there was a party going on in here, I would have come down sooner.”
She sat at the table, but still no one spoke. “Okay, guys, this is getting a little creepy. Am I dreaming? Did someone die? Oh, no, is Felicia okay?”
“Everyone’s fine. Mrs. Potter just has something disturbing to tell you.” Ian reached over and took Angie’s hand.
“It’s okay, I figured you’d leave sooner or later.” Angie took a doughnut out of the box. “So, when are you moving? This fall?”
“You knew he was going to try to buy the ranch? Don’t tell me you already sold?” Mrs. Potter looked angry.
“Wait. Who’s buying the ranch? What did I sell?” She looked around the table in confusion.
“That guy you asked me about who visited Grans? He made her a really good offer for the house and the land. Top end of the scale, from what I can see.” Erica glanced around the kitchen. “I’ll miss this place. You made it feel so homey.”
“Jon Ansley offered you money for your farm? Why? We’re out in the boonies. Are you wanting to sell?”
“He said they’re bringing in a soy processing plant. They bought up that veterinarian’s fields last year. I figured I don’t want to live here with all that going on.” Mrs. Potter rubbed the table that had been Angie’s Nona’s kitchen table too. “There are just so many memories in these houses. I can’t bear to think of them torn down.”
“No one’s tearing my house down. I can’t tell you what to do, but I’m fighting this. I don’t think they can put the plant up without community support, and I’ll make sure there isn’t any. Not one drop.” Angie finished off her doughnut and went for a second. She was at war, and she needed the calories.
“That’s my girl.” Ian beamed at her, pulling out a notebook she kept in her kitchen desk. “So now, let’s figure out how to stop this guy. Tell me everything he said. Let’s figure out where we need to start.”
And for the next few hours, they planned and plotted and did the work to save their homes. At the end of the day, as Erica helped Mrs. Potter back across the road, she stood on her porch watching. The sun was setting, and the evening felt perfect. There was no way some guy was going to take this all away from her for something as simple as money.
She’d find a way to stop this from happening. She had to. Too many people were counting on her.
Dear Readers:
I learned to cook early. When my friends were using canned tomato soup for a sauce for spaghetti, we had to make our own sauce with fresh veggies and home canned tomatoes. Even when money was short, we always had food available, but it was what we’d call whole foods today. Fresh, frozen and home canned vegetables. Meat frozen in the chest freezer in the mud room. Mom would buy bread at the outlet store where we’d also get fruit pies which got popped in the freezer as well. Hamburger Helper never sat on my mom’s pantry shelves.
Mom’s meal planning was pretty basic. Meat and potatoes with a loaf of bread and butter on the table. A big salad and a vegetable. Plain Jane meals, but when I think back, they were always filling and tasty.
When I started my own life and got married (the first time), that’s the only way I knew how to cook. Homestyle. I’ve tried prepackaged meals and they just don’t taste the same. And typically, it’s just as quick for me to whip up something in the kitchen rather than wait for delivery.
I do love weekday meals that don’t take forever to make, yet taste like you slaved away in the kitchen. Especially since I spend a lot of time here, on the computer with you all. This recipe is one of those meals. My version of Shepherd’s Pie. To save even more time you can use the refrigerated mashed potatoes found at most groceries. Or to make it lower in carbs, use mashed cauliflower.
Enjoy,
Lynn
Shepherd’s Pie
Heat oven to 400 degrees.
Topping
4 large russet potatoes
Peel and boil until soft then drain and mash with the following:
1/4 cube butter
1/4 cup milk<
br />
1/2 cup sour cream
Salt/pepper to taste
Meat Mixture
1 chopped onion
1 tsp garlic (or two crushed cloves)
1/2 tsp thyme
Fry over medium heat for five minutes
Then add and brown:
1 1/2 pounds of ground beef
When beef crumbles, add a 12oz bag of frozen mixed veggies.
Cook for five minutes, then add two Tbsp of flour. Stir so it coats the hamburger. Then add:
2/3 cup of beef broth
Cook down for five minutes – then put meat mixture in shallow baking pan.
Spread mashed potatoes over the top of the meat mixture and put in the oven for 20 minutes.
So, so good and filling for a chilly winter night. The cowboy gave it his seal of approval.
Eat well.
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Chapter 1
Event planning is a talent that not everyone has in their DNA. No matter what they teach you in high school, it turns out not everyone can do everything. My Home Economics teacher had a section in our senior Family Living class on wedding planning. I would have been better at looking up airline tickets to Vegas. But no, you had to pick out your perfect dress. Set up a caterer. List out your menu. Find a venue for both the wedding—which should be religion-appropriate for you and your future husband—and the reception. She let us go wild. Whatever we wanted, we got.
Then we had to set a budget. And she’d tricked us early on by asking what the future version of ourselves and our imaginary husband did for a living. So the budget was based on the average salaries for those careers. Which she set for you, using some charts she’d found on the internet.
