by J R Pearson
"What are you looking at?" Brad frowned and followed her to the dead bush.
"These flowers," she said, crouching down.
"Uh, I don’t wanna sound like a jerk or anything, but could you make your botany exploration short? Mark is waiting." Brad sighed heavily. "Let’sg—" The words clogged his throat when Josie lifted the bouquet. A bloody knife slipped out, falling onto the hardened dirt. A sour metallic odor emitted from the red fluid that covered the blade. It made Josie's stomach lurch. A small card also fell, sticking to the blood. In stylish script, it read:
Once a heart is broken…Its blood must be spilled.
-Olivia Duncan
"Josie?" Brad whispered behind her.
"Yeah?" Her low tone matched his.
"I don’t want to hang out with you anymore."
Hell, Josie didn’t want to be anywhere near herself either.
Was this the missing murder weapon?
***
Brad suggested they call Detective Evans. Instead, Josie's fingers dialed Tony. Dumb, because when Tony arrived, the look on his face resembled a nostril-flaring bull. At the moment she preferred being handcuffed in the back of a squad car.
"What are you guys doing here?" he demanded. Brad not so gently pushed Josie forward.
"It was all Josie's idea," he accused. "And it wouldn’t be the first cockamamie idea she's had all night." Josie narrowed her eyes at him.
Tony dragged his hands through his hair in frustration.
"Where is it?" he asked. Josie walked him toward the dead flower bed. He crouched low for a better inspection and cursed under his breath.
"Did anyone see you?" He looked up at her. She hadn't thought to keep watch. But since no one jumped out from around the house, beamed a flashlight in their faces, and said “Freeze!,” she shook her head and said no.
"Did you touch it?" Tony continued.
“The knife, no. The plastic wrapping, yes,” Josie admitted. Brad stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. Tony sighed.
"Unbelievable." He straightened. "I'll call the police." Josie's eyes widened as he took out his phone.
"Are you going to tell them that I found it?"
CHAPTER FIVE
"No. I'm just going to leave a tip. We'll be long gone before they arrive. Which means you both need to go." No sooner the words left his mouth, Josie and Brad hoofed it to her vehicle. Before she opened the driver's door, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned to see Tony peering down at her. His face had softened, but a brow was still arched.
"I'd really appreciate it," he leaned closer, "if you not get yourself into any more dangerous situations."
"Dangerous?" She frowned.
"Jo, you don’tknow whoever put the knife there may have been still hanging around." His chilling words caused Josie to glance around them. She inwardly kicked herself. How could she have been so careless? Since laying eyes on the bloody knife, her scattered brain felt like it was thrown into a tumbling dryer. All common sense was left in the washer—soaked and useless.
"Trust me. I don’t plan on doing this again in the future," she assured him.
"Good. I’ll see you tomorrow at work." Tony gave her a small smile, sending her heart racing. He squeezed her shoulder before letting her go.
When Josie's car was no longer in sight, Tony walked to his own, placing the short 911 call, and made the quick drive to his house. Jade, his black Great Dane, greeted him at the door.
Tony was happy that Jo had called him instead of Detective Evans. Though Evans irked him, the man was still a good detective—the person Josie should have contacted.
However, Tony liked being Jo's go-to when she needed help or anything else. He wanted to make up for the lost times, those nonexistent calls for help, since leaving her a decade ago.
A familiar feeling began to swell in his chest. The feeling no longer confused or frightened him. But he still wasn't ready to explore it. For now, it reminded him how different the outcome would have been if he hadn’t left.
Like tonight.
The image of sharing a glass of wine with the beautiful and funny woman on his couch heated his insides.
Though now the image of blood-stained flowers turned it cold.
***
Hello to anyone still awake and reading this! Josie began typing a new blog post.
Just wanted to know: What midnight snacks or drinks do you make when sleep is your greatest enemy?
A nice hot bowl of classic homemade mac and cheese? For me, every cheesy soul-encasing bite, satisfies my craving and lulls me to a relaxed state, making my stomach smile.
How about tea? Do chamomile’s earthy sensations numb your body and mind, reuniting you and your longtime friends, pillow and blanket?
Or does neither work because the all-too-horrifying memory of finding a bloody knife that was used to kill a man prevent you from remaining sane?
Josie deleted the last part and closed her laptop. She released a breath, rolling her shoulders. She'd already taken a hot shower, put on her pajamas, snuggled with Petey, and wanted to close out the crazy night with a therapeutic blog post. That wasn’t happening.
Who was Olivia Duncan?
Had the unknown woman killed Gordy and left the knife at his house as some sick joke?
Josie got up to pour water in her lime-green teakettle. She stared blindly at the countertop until the kettle whistled. If Olivia did kill him, was the point of signing her name saying she wanted to get caught?
Was she feeling guilty?
And what was her motive?
Hot water steaming in Josie’s favorite mug, she added a lemon-flavored tea bag. She blew on the tea before taking a sip. The light lemony taste slid down her throat and unfortunately didn't hit any "right" spot. She was missing something. Josie dumped her mug and filled it back up. This time with Merlot.
Better.
***
The next two days felt like two months. In The Box became the epicenter for locals to discuss the police's latest discovery. Of course, neither Josie nor Brad corrected the news saying they were the ones that found the knife. And if for some reason they were asked, Brad would claim he was on a different planet that night.
Customers began to come up with their own theories as to why Gordy was killed by the mysterious Olivia Duncan. A betrayed angry lover was popular on the motives list. Thursday afternoon rolled in and brought its own drama. All debates and speculations were immediately thrown out the window.
Tests results on the bloody knife came back negative—matching with Gordy’s. Or any human blood for that matter. It belonged to a recently slaughtered pig. Which wasn't hard to come by, since Greenville attained its name from the vast amount of farms surrounding the town. Olivia Duncan was picked up by JewelCove police trying to board a cruise ship. She was brought back to Greenville and questioned by Detective Evans.
The Anderson sisters and Aunt Kendra explained that Olivia was an indeed an angry person. But an angry lover, Olivia was not.
"A troubled young lady who had an unhealthy attachment to Gordy, and who tended to appear in exact locations as him, and never received the same emotions she expressed towards him," Polly said. Molly rolled her eyes and nudged Polly aside to lean against the counter.
"Basically Olivia is a crazy obsessed stalker chick who’d been in love with Gordy since preschool." She tapped a long red nail on the counter. Detective Evans couldn’t charge Olivia for leaving the knife. But Aunt Kendra revealed that Olivia was now a suspect. Though the blood belonged to a pig and Olivia's actions were a bit screwy, but harmless, police were still watching Ms. Duncan and keeping an eye out for the real murder weapon.
***
It was Friday morning and Brian Fitzgerald surprised the town by announcing Gordy's short-noticed funeral was scheduled for that evening at Stonevich and Son's funeral home. It was to be a public viewing, and, yes, everyone and their mother was going to attend.
In the meantime, before the do
ors opened to the public at In The Box, Josie filleted a codfish and diced several mangos. That, and other ingredients, was a part of today's special. Tony had recently connected with a seafood supplier in JewelCove, and a shipment of fresh cod, crab, and shrimp was unloaded early that morning.
Josie's creative juices pumped fast and fierce!
Growing up by the ocean and having culinary wizards for parents could do this to a person. She planned on supplying the locals with spiced cod and mango-confetti-slaw sliders. In the kitchen, Josie got started on the slaw. She whisked lime juice and honey in a bowl. She popped a cubed mango into her mouth, then added the rest into the mix. Crunchy slivers of red and green cabbage followed and a dash of salt. That done, Josie rubbed the filleted fish with a spice mixture of paprika, thyme, garlic, and onion powder. The seasoned fish sizzled in a skillet. Waiting for it to turn a golden brown, she began the cilantro aioli dressing.
"Smells good in here." Tony stood alongside her. Josie's short height caused her to make eye contact with his thick forearm. Not so bad—it was a very good-looking forearm.
"Thank you." She smiled up at him, then nodded to the seasonings in his hands. "Whatcha got there?"
"I figured I'd make sliders using the crab meat," he said, then got to setting up on the stainless steel work counter. Josie flipped the cod.
"But I'm already doing a seafood slider." She gestured to the skillet. "A tester is in the works right now." Tony smiled and continued to gather supplies.
"I'm making a sample, too." He said. "It wouldn’t hurt to have two seafood sliders." Though he was smiling innocently, his eyes shined mischievously.
Josie crossed her arms. "What are you up to?"
"Why do you automatically think I'm up to something?" He sliced red bell peppers into small pieces, then did the same to scallions. Josie eyed him.
"I guess it wouldn’t hurt." She turned back to her fish. "My cod slider is going to be a bit spicy."
"Sounds good. The mayo I'm topping the crab meat with is going to be spicy, too." Tony began crushing bread crumbs. Josie whirled on him.
"We both can't have spicy seafood sliders!" She pointed her spatula at him. He grinned, looking at her weapon of choice.
"It’s not a big deal, Jo," he chuckled. He wasn't mad in the least. In fact, he liked seeing this side of her. She looked adorable in an oversized apron, holding a spatula as if it were a sword.
"Hmph." She focused her attention on the aioli dressing, scooping a dollop of nonfat yogurt out of its container. She couldn’t really pinpoint the exact reason why it bothered her that Tony was also making a seafood slider. It was childish for her to feel this way. And it wasn’t like Tony sucked at cooking. His mini sandwiches would turn out delicious; she had no doubt customers were going to enjoy it. And besides, he was using crab meat not cod. Like he said, it wasn’t a big deal.
And yet….
"I was thinking we should serve the lunch rush my sandwiches." She peered at him from the corner of her eye. "And an hour or so before closing, we offer yours."
Tony cocked an eyebrow. "Or we just serve them both all day," he said. "You never know if some folks want crab instead cod."
"AH-HA! I knew it! You think your sliders are going to be better than mine!"
"Where the hell did that come from?" He threw his hands up. Josie narrowed her eyes at him.
"You're not denying it." She placed a hand on her hip. Tony failed to hide a grin and stepped closer to her. She should have backed up but he smelled of lemon zest and sriracha seasoning.
It was intoxicating.
"How about—" he started. "—we let our customers decide whose seafood slider is better?"
"A competition." She suspected he had an alternative motive.
"A friendly one," he smirked. Yeah, right. Josie snorted.
"There's nothing friendly about throwing a tantrum once you've lost." She poked his rock-hard stomach. "Remember when Buck Tooth Sammy beat you in that track race in gym class? I recall you getting pretty heated."
"That was twelve years ago, and my leg cramped up at the last second, and Sammy messed up my rhythm by drifting into my lane—." He stopped talking and frowned. Josie smiled wide.
She had him.
She stuck her hand out.
He shook it.
"May the best slider win," she said sweetly. He was so going down, she thought.
"May the best slider win," Tony repeated. She was definitely going down.
"Jo?" He still held her hand in his right and caressed her cheek with his left.
"Yeah?" The skin underneath his fingers tingled.
"Your fish is burning."
She jerked away and quickly turned off the stove. She flopped the fish onto a nearby plate, where it landed burned side up. It was completely black.
"Shoot!"
Tony laughed, walking back to his station.
This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER SIX
On the large chalkboard “Specials” menu that stood out front, Brad wrote:
Spicy cod and mango slaw slider
Crab cake with spicy mayo slider
Chalk was available for customers who wanted to vote for which slider they liked most. Tony and Josie remained anonymous to customers to deter favoritism, and stayed unseen in the kitchen. Just an arm would appear through the kitchen window when a sandwich was ready to serve.
Greta and Brad stayed out front, taking orders and making hot dogs and paninis for those who didn’t want to be part of the competition. Josie worked hard at a steady pace, not wanting to miss a step, taking care to focus on each ingredient. Making sure she didn’t squirt too much lime juice into the cilantro aioli sauce. Balancing the spice rub beautifully.
Burnt fish was, of course, a no-no.
She thought she might have the advantage by providing an appealing presentation. On top of the golden-crusted fish, she dabbed a small scoop of the cilantro specked white dressing. Neon-purple cabbage, shreds of carrot, and diced bright-yellow mango sat perched on the dressing, the top bun off to the side.
She put another order up next to Tony's crab cake sandwich in the window. It looked festive. Green scallion and red pepper was mixed into the patty. A light peach-colored sauce, the spicy mayo he’d mentioned, blanketed the surface. When Tony made a trip into the pantry, Josie quickly grabbed a clean spoon and dipped it into his sauce bowl and tasted.
Dammit, she pouted.
It was delicious.
***
"And the winner is..." Brad counted each tally. Josie crossed her fingers. The doors had closed after the last customer, ten minutes ago and she, Tony, and Greta crowded around Brad. Everyone who came into the bistro automatically wanted to weigh in the seafood-slider comp. It turned out to be really fun—people acting like professional judges, debating which the best was. No matter the winner, though Josie hoped it was her, the competition was an excellent way to introduce seafood as a permanent part of the menu.
"Don’t worry, girlie," Greta said. "I'm betting on you to win." Josie smiled at the older woman.
"Thank you."
"Though I've never known anyone to put fruit on fish." Greta tapped her chin.
"Me neither," Tony smirked. "Sounds strange."
"You're strange," Josie shot back, foolishly. Greta cackled.
"You remind me of myself," she said, then pointed to Tony. "And you, of your uncle Sal." The older woman sighed, staring off into space. "We would pick at each other all the time. Though Sal quickly ended some fights so the making up in the bedroom happened sooner—"
"IT'S A TIE!" Brad interrupted. Josie's face felt like it was on fire. All thoughts on winning the competition were replaced by Greta's words. Tony cleared his throat, his face the color of a tomato.
The image of his short and porky uncle with wiry Greta seared his brain. Not wanting to add a sequel to the disturbing picture, he escaped to the back office.
"I'm late for my hair appointment," Greta said, reaching for h
er purse. "I need to look my best for the service tonight." She patted Josie and Brad's cheek, then left.
"Mark is going, too." Brad said. "He's coming here to pick me up so I can change."
"Not exactly a romantic date," Josie commented.
"I know. Nevertheless, there will be drama. And that's always exciting." He waggled his perfectly arched eyebrows. Josie started replenishing the refrigerated toppings station.
"Do you think the killer will be in attendance?" she asked.
"Probably. That’s what always happens in the tv shows. Jennie came in earlier and said she heard that Olivia Duncan is going to be there. By the way, Jennie voted for Tony's crab cake. I didn’t want to tell you earlier—"
"Hold on." Josie stopped her friend "Olivia is going to the service?"
"I guess so."
"Interesting." She chewed the inside of her cheek.
"There's Mark." Brad waved to a very fit, dark haired man dressed in a stylish suit, walking in and smiled. Josie was blinded by his white teeth. Mark was a very handsome man, who—from what Brad had told her—was polite, considerate, an amazing listener, and who hid a six-pack of abs under his expensive dress shirt.
"Mark, this is my best friend, Josie.” Brad introduced. Josie shook Mark's smooth hand.
"I’m sorry we haven't met sooner," he said. "My schedule has been a little wacky." He smiled apologetically at Brad, then turned to Josie. "You’ve got quite the food blog. Scarlett very much enjoyed the tortellini spinach soup recipe you posted last week.”
Josie's brows catapulted to her hairline and her bottom jaw dropped. Brad’s expression matched hers.
"The Scarlett Bloomfield?" Brad looked faint. "Ate Josie's tortellini soup?" Mark laughed at Brad's dramatics.
"Yeah. Scarlett's fitness trainer had her on a thirteen-day Brussels sprouts juicing detox. And when it ended yesterday, she demanded something that was creamy and soul-hugging." Mark shrugged. "Her exact words. And that’s what her personal assistant searched for."
