SEAS THE DAY

by Maggie Toussaint

  “If we were making enough for a small group, that’d be right. To make enough for a hundred people. I’d need a really big pot. So I’ll cook everything sequentially in my normal-sized pot.”

  “I’m your guy. Tell me what goes in when.”

  I didn’t exactly need his company, but I didn’t want to antagonize him either. Getting on the wrong side of the law would truly wreck my future.

  “I’ve got a check list. I’m adding some sausage to each pot of veggies, and then we’ll boil the shrimp last. They want the meal ready at five thirty, so that’s our target time.”

  I pointed to the veggies in turn as I scooped out the right proportion of each to add to the boiling water. “We’ll repeat this five times.”

  “Got it.” He covered the pot with the lid. “Have you thought about a larger pot?”

  “Takes too long to heat more water.” I gestured at a stack of pans on the nearby food cart. “The aluminum pans are to collect each batch as it comes out of the pot.”

  “How’ll you remove the food without losing the heated water?”

  With the fragrant spices perfuming the air, I no longer smelled his aftershave. Lucky me. “I’ve got a sieve on a stick. My brother made it for this purpose.”

  “You’ve thought of everything.”

  “I wish. There’s always something I could’ve done better.”

  “I’ve never heard any complaints about Holloway Catering, so you’re doing a great job of customer satisfaction.”

  “The biggest shortcoming looming in my face is failing Estelle. Now she’s gone, and we don’t have any idea who killed her or where her son is.”

  Lance grimaced. “I thought we’d leave the case at the office. This is a party. Would you like something from the wine bar?”

  “No thanks. I don’t drink when I’m working. And I hoped to mention Chili’s name to people here. Take the evening off the case if you like, but I’m not.”

  “You’re a handful, you know that?” Lance asked, moving close to crowd me again.

  I didn’t miss how his voice roughened and dropped to a more private volume. Retreating, I reminded him, “I have a boyfriend.”

  He made a show of looking around. “No boyfriend in sight.”

  I didn’t like his attitude or his version of the truth. “Pete is coming home soon. He has a few business hiccups right now.”

  “He shouldn’t leave you to fend for yourself.”

  Annoyance colored my voice. “He didn’t leave me. I chose to stay here initially. Then his job became dangerous, so he asked me to stay here.”

  “Still, with your looks and the way you cook, he should’ve put a ring on your finger.”

  I planted my feet and barred my arms. “I don’t care for your tone or your macho mindset. I’ll have you know Pete asked me to marry him.”

  “No ring on your finger,” he repeated.

  The timer rang, so I started scooping veggies into the pan. “Not that it’s any of your business, the lack of a ring is my fault. He proposed. I wanted to make sure of our feelings for each other.”

  He had the grace to look flustered. “Well, damn.”

  I gestured to the clusters of people arriving. “You’re under no obligation to help me. Be a guest tonight. I don’t need a helper. Circulate.”

  “I said I’d help and I meant it.”

  “Even if I won’t date you?”

  “Even so. I’d rather be over here than out there. Everyone treats me like I’m a cop. You treat me like a person.”

  “People here are slow to trust outsiders.” I sealed the pan of cooked veggies with foil while Lance scooped the next batch of veggies into the pot. I sprinkled more spice on top.

  “That’s true, but you’re different.”

  “My parents stressed treating others as you’d like to be treated, and that’s what I do. If you want a friend, be a friend.”

  “Like my helping you?”

  “Branch out to make other friends. What are your interests? Do you like hunting, fishing, sports, the arts?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “What subjects interested you in school?”

  “Cars. Girls. Sex.”

  “Sounds like you share interests with Vivian Declan.”

  “I’m interested in you.”

  “Refocus, guy. Not happening.”

  He grinned. “See. You make me smile.”

  “You’re impossible.”

  Gloria Beville’s daughter Josey joined us. She raved about the cake and asked if I could move up the dinner timeline.

  I shook my head. “The meal you requested has a defined cook time, and I need every minute between now and five thirty to have all the food ready at the same time. My only option at this point is to consider making two different boils. That means some guests will have a longer wait for their food while others are eating.”

  “No. Mother wouldn’t like that. Neither my brother nor I can get the audio-visual stuff to work and my dad is bored. He wants to go home.”

  I looked at Lance. He used technology in his job. “Lance can give you a hand with the AV equipment.”

  Lance shot me a thunderous expression. “Be a friend,” I mouthed silently.

  “Sure,” Lance said. “I’ll take a look at it.”

  When they went off together and the slide show began, I heaved a sigh of relief. I also got my batches cooked more efficiently. Lance didn’t return, and I noticed he wandered through conversational groups. I could only imagine how those conversations were going. Most of the older crowd would want to know who his family was. From the way each group he joined dispersed, I guessed he wasn’t making connections.

  Soon, the meal was cooked. The buffet line started, and then I kept busy replenishing the serving table.

  After the guests filled their plates, Patsy from the wine station came through the line and saw me removing an empty pan of cornbread. “No!” she cried, her hand covering her heart.

  I stashed the pan on my service cart and pulled the last one from the oven. “It’s okay. I have one more.”

  “That’s good because I have been dreaming about your cornbread all evening. Think anyone would mind if I took three slices?”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  She loaded her plate, but before she left she leaned in and asked, “You heard anything about Chili?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to speak to people tonight. This meal required a lot of tending and I cooked everything on site.”

  “It looks and smells amazing. I hope you never move away. I’m in a serious, committed relationship with your cornbread. But I’d give up cornbread if Chili came home.”

  “I want that too.”

  “Deputy Dawg hasn’t found anything?”

  “Not that he’s shared with me.”

  “He’s a conversational Black Hole. He inadvertently sent plenty of people over for drink refills when their glasses were nearly full. Good for the Wine and Dine’s bottom line because we’re paid by how many empty bottles we have, but bad for the hostess.”

  “Gosh, I don’t understand. He’s easy to talk to.”

  “You’re easy to talk to. I’ve always wanted to be just like you, and not be so shy.”

  “You’re not shy about your job.”

  “That’s easy because it isn’t personal. None of the guys around here have ever flirted with me, but Chili talked to me like I was a human being.”

  “He didn’t talk to many people.”

  “That’s right, he didn’t, which makes me sad that he’s missing. I should be doing something. I’ve gone out a few times in my little jon boat, checking to make sure he isn’t in the marsh or on one of the marsh hamlet islands, but I don’t know what else to do.”

  “I’m at a loss too. He’s been gone for over
a week now. I want to find him as much as you do.”

  “He better hurry home or he won’t have one. Those so-called relatives of his are making a lot of noise inside Estelle’s house.”

  If I were a dog, my ears would’ve pricked up. “What do you mean?”

  “I heard it at the post office this morning. Ola Mae and Valerie were complaining about the racket.”

  Ola Mae Reed and Valerie Slade were sisters who lived next door to Estelle’s house. They would certainly know what those men were doing over there. Something I needed to check out, first thing on Friday.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “What a treat to see you, dear, please come in.” Ola Mae waved me and my plate of cookies into their dark parlor the next morning, while her sister Valerie bustled off to the kitchen. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been in their house, maybe twenty years ago when I was selling fundraiser gift wrap for elementary school. Everything looked the same. Dark wood chests topped with marble and draped with lace marched along the walls. Floral sofas squared off against each other, while gold drapes paired with lacy sheers to guard the windows.

  Widowed in her forties, Valerie moved in with Ola Mae, who was also a widow. I believed Ola Mae was the oldest sister by a few years, but it was difficult to tell. These dainty, petite seniors were pushing the heck out of ninety by my estimation, and my guess was neither one of them weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet.

  Valerie returned with tumblers of iced tea and small plates for the cookies. Her thin hands shook as she passed a glass to me. She bit into a cookie and hummed in delight. “You truly have a gift. Never stop cooking. I haven’t tasted anything this decadent in years. Now you didn’t come to hear me natter on about your cookies. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  “Thanks for the tea and the compliment, though I’m sure you know why I really dropped by.” I accepted the tea and carefully set the tumbler on a coaster. Rumor had it that both ladies poisoned their husbands so I knew better than to consume anything they made. “Before she died, Estelle asked me to look into her son’s disappearance. I haven’t discovered anything helpful so far, but last night I heard about the commotion next door. What’s happening in Estelle’s house?”

  “We’re concerned,” Ola Mae said. “Her shade-tree relatives are tearing the place apart.”

  The thought of the older house next door being gutted saddened me. “Are they dismantling the interiors to sell the wood?”

  “Doubt it,” Ola Mae said. “Nothing is passing through those doors but those nasty men, going for pizza or carry-out. No one’s emptied the garbage. That place must reek to high heaven.”

  “Besides the hammering and sawing,” Valerie said, “we hear things breaking over there. I bet they smashed all of Estelle’s good china and pawned the silver. It isn’t right. Those hooligans have no respect for Estelle’s property.”

  “Did you call the police?” I asked.

  “We did. A nice young man came over, took down our complaint. Sat right where you’re sitting. He drank tea and ate four cookies. Then he went next door. We opened the window to hear him. He told the men to keep the noise down, and that was it. The deputy drove away, and the noise resumed immediately. Those men are disrespectful.”

  The deputy must not’ve known not to eat here, meaning he was an outsider. Chances were Deputy Lance Hamlyn, the newcomer on the force, took the call. At least he listened to the ladies. It wasn’t his fault the men next door resumed their noisy work as soon as he departed.

  I thought back to my arrival and walking up Ola Mae’s sidewalk a few minutes ago. “I didn’t hear any banging when I came up your walk.”

  “They’re sneaky that way,” Valerie said, waggling a bony finger. “They think nobody pays attention to two doddering old fools next door, but they’re wary of strangers.”

  “We should go to the police station right now and file a formal complaint. That would net you another cop visit next door.”

  “That nice young deputy said he’d take care of all that,” Ola Mae said. “He’s a handsome devil. If I was sixty years younger, I’d make a play for him.”

  Ola Mae and Lance. I couldn’t imagine them together, but then I’d never known Ola Mae or her sister when they were younger. To my knowledge, they were the oldest seniors in Riceland County who still lived independently.

  Even so, this destruction shouldn’t be continuing. “We should request a copy of that report, to make sure he filed it.”

  “You youngsters aren’t very trusting. The cop said he did it, and I believe him. Now if you can send him over for tea and cookies again, we’d love that.”

  “I think I know which deputy you mean. The new one, right?”

  “They all look new and young to us,” Ola Mae joked. “He said his name was Hamlet. I asked if he knew the story and he didn’t. Imagine being named Hamlet and never reading that classic. So then I asked if he knew Shakespeare, and he said he’d never had the pleasure.”

  Hamlet, huh. Sure sounded like Hamlyn to me. “Got it. I’ll ask him about the police report, just to be on the safe side. Meanwhile, do you ladies feel safe here? Have those men next door threatened you?”

  Ola Mae shook her head. “No, can’t say as they have. Mostly they look right through us. Valerie and I wondered if we were already invisible. We hope to be raptured up instead of going through the throes of death.”

  “Good luck with that.” I smiled at them and rose. “I need to get going. Thank you for your hospitality and the information.”

  “It’s great to see you,” Valerie said, showing me to the door. “Please come again. And if we don’t speak again before we pass, we’ll tell your mama what a good job you’re doing.”

  My eyes teared up at thought of them visiting with my mom in heaven. “Thanks.”

  I hadn’t gone three blocks from their house before my phone rang. Technology and the car company linked my phone to the van’s audio system, so the caller ID came up on the dashboard screen.

  Deputy Lance Hamlyn. What did he want now? “Hello,” I said.

  “I kept meaning to ask you to bake cookies for the guys at the station, but I forgot. Today’s the office manager’s birthday, and I know it’s short notice, but could you bring something over this afternoon?”

  “I have emergency chocolate chip cookies on hand, or I could bake something fresh. What’s your preference and how much time do I have?”

  “Three o’clock would be perfect. Bring a cake with Fran’s name on it and the cookies. How much for all that?”

  I quoted him a price, and he agreed to it. “How many people we talking about?”

  “At least a dozen, maybe more if we leave enough for second shift.”

  “Sounds like you need a sheet cake then. What kind?”

  “Anything as long as you put the icing from last night on it.”

  “Gotcha. See you at three.”

  I turned and drove to the grocery store. I needed a lot more eggs and butter to fill this order. Belatedly, I realized I should’ve asked Lance about Ola Mae and Valerie’s police report. Oh, well, I’d see him at three.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Somehow, I squeezed tutoring between baking the cake and icing it. My new kitty cat hadn’t reappeared, and I was concerned for his welfare. Major needed someone who looked out for him.

  I piped out “Happy Birthday Fran” in pink atop the buttercream frosting. It looked darn good, if I did say so myself. Carefully, I boxed the cake and plated the thawed cookies. It would be a shame if I got all the way to the Riceland County Sheriff’s Office on the mainland and they had no plates and forks. I gathered up spare plates, napkins, and forks left over from other gigs.

  The drive passed quickly, and I wheeled my cart of goodies into the lobby.

  Fran Lipinksi rose from her seat and buzzed me into the administrative side of the b
uilding. Though she had an entry level job, she’d dressed as if it were Easter Sunday in her orange sherbet colored suit, dyed-to-match pumps, and perfectly bobbed chestnut hair.

  “Happy Birthday,” I said as I followed her down a corridor.

  “I can’t believe that rookie did this for me,” Fran exclaimed. “He’s the nicest guy. He even takes extra shifts nobody wants.” She gazed longingly at the cake. “I can’t wait to taste this. I’ve heard great things about your baking. Deputy Hamlyn came in this morning raving about that meal you cooked last night, especially the cake. I love me a good cake.”

  “I hope you love buttercream frosting. Lance specifically requested it for you. I put it over a butter cake.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Fran ducked into a utilitarian breakroom that had a kitchenette on one side and a narrow table for eight on the other. Two industrial-looking coffee machines hogged the counter, so I placed the cake on the table with the cookies. It hardly took another few seconds to put out the forks and plates.

  I glanced over at Fran. “Do you have a large knife? Otherwise, I can grab my cake knife from the van and cut the cake before I leave.”

  “I’ve got a knife right here,” the woman said, pulling a serrated knife from a drawer. “Go ahead and slice half of it. I want a big piece. It is my birthday after all.”

  “Not waiting for the singing of Happy Birthday before you try it?” She gave me a do-it look. “Got it. This knife will do fine.” I had noticed on the way in that this place looked deserted. “Where is everyone?”

  “Briefing room. Big news today, didn’t you hear?”

  “No. I’ve been too busy to turn on the radio or TV. What happened?”

  “Since the story is already splashed on the news, I can share what I know. Remember that dead man? The one that died at sea six months ago?”

  Wow! A chill slid down my spine. She was talking about Kale Bolz. “I remember.”

  “He rose from the dead. Literally. Turns out, he was hiding in Florida all this time. He faked his death, so now we charge him for it and for all the wasted rescue effort. He’ll go to jail for a long time.”