Lethal Lasagna

by Rhonda Gibson

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded and then returned to the front. I sighed with relief and made a pretense of looking for today’s date in the book.

  It was your normal class. Prayer requests, prayer, and then the lesson. I smiled at the subject of our discussion, God Is Love, So What? I’m never good at just listening to someone else read to me, and I found myself speed reading through the lesson.

  The creaking of the door opening caught my attention. I wondered who the latecomer was and felt thankful it wasn’t me.

  Brandon Harvest apologized for being late. His gaze met mine and then the cad winked. While he took a seat, heat consumed my face.

  TITLE

  Lethal Lasagna

  Chapter 7

  The minister finished his sermon and then said. “Before you leave, allow me to make a couple of announcements. The annual baseball game and picnic are next Sunday. So plan to come and stay for the afternoon fun. Also, Ladies, I understand from my lovely wife that you are putting together a scrapbook cookbook. She asked me to remind you to arrive Tuesday night at six and bring your scrapbook supplies and recipes. The proceeds will go toward sending the ladies on a women’s autumn retreat. Well, I think that’s it. I hope to see you all back here at six tonight. Let’s pray.”

  I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts kept returning to the last announcement. The ladies were working on a cookbook? Was it possible one of them had a killer lasagna recipe?

  “Amen.”

  Could one of these sweet ladies have disliked Mitzi enough to poison her? I gathered my things and stepped out into the aisle.

  People pressed in on all sides. A husky voice whispered in my ear. “It was good to see you here this morning.” Brandon placed his hand in the center of my back as we made our way to the exit.

  The warmth of his palm traveled through the thin sweater. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Mitzi attended the same church?” I whispered back.

  “You didn’t ask me.”

  I wanted to scream. “You knew I would be here today.”

  “I hope you enjoyed our services.” A woman said as she entered the aisle beside me.

  I smiled and tried to ignore the warmth creeping up my spine and into my hair. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

  “Then maybe you’ll come again.” The woman beamed happily.

  I met her grin with one of my own. “Actually, I’m interested in coming Tuesday for the cookbook class. Do you attend that?”

  If it were possible, I believe her smile grew even wider. “Oh yes, we just started last month but it has been so much fun.” She now stood in front of the minister.

  “I’ll be looking for you.” She offered before turning her full attention on the pastor. “That was a wonderful message, Pastor Haywood.”

  “Why thank you, Sister Williams. I’m glad it touched your heart. I hope you’re coming to the picnic. I’m looking forward to a sample of your homemade apple pie next week.” He released her hand and smiled.

  “I’ll be here and I’ll bring my recipe for that sweet little wife of yours.” She hurried out the door.

  Then the preacher turned to me.

  “Pastor, I’d like you to meet Claire Parker.” Brandon spoke around me.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I hope you come back tonight.”

  What do you say when a man of God asks you to come back to church? I found myself saying, “I’m looking forward to it.” I wonder if people burn in hell for saying the first thing they know is expected of them.

  Only if you lied. That inner voice taunted. Sometimes I wonder how much of that voice is from God and how much of it is me? In this case, I knew it was God.

  Brandon must have sensed my confusion. He shook hands with the minister, and then tucked my hand through his arm and led me out to the parking lot. The dark skies still hovered overhead but thankfully the rain had stopped. When we stood beside his pick up, he released me. “How about some lunch, as friends of course?”

  “Mrs. Parker! Mrs. Parker!”

  I turned to find Mrs. Haywood running toward us. She held my soiled clothes in her arms. “You forgot these.” She panted.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you. I’ll return these tonight.” I motioned to the borrowed clothes I had on and then took the offered dress.

  She smiled. “That will be fine. But, before you get away, I’d like to ask you to join us at Braums. It’s just a few of us that get together each week.” She held her side as if she’d developed a painful stitch.

  Braums is a hamburger and ice cream restaurant. If I agreed to eat with them, I’d avoid having a private meal with Brandon. I’m not sure why I felt the need to keep some distance between us but I did. Maybe it was the thought that he’d been closer to Mitzi than I cared to think about. “I’d love to join you.” I answered.

  “Oh, good. We always meet at the one on Fifth and Main Street.”

  “I’ll bring her.” Brandon’s deep voice pulled my gaze up to his. Once more his knowing eyes twinkled down at me.

  “That would be wonderful. We’ll only be a few moments. I think the Kellys will be joining us, too.” She turned and walked back to the church.

  He opened the passenger door of his truck. “I’m glad you accepted our invitation. I’d like for you to get to know my church family.” His smile gave me a warm feeling deep in my stomach.

  I slid onto the seat of the truck. The scent of leather cleaner filled my nostrils.

  Brandon shut my door and hurried around to the other side. He waved at several families as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. We rode in silence for several long moments. As he pulled into the parking lot, he asked. “How’s the investigation going?”

  “I’ve just started.”

  A soft chuckled came from his side of the cab, “So in other words, you haven’t learned anything?”

  “Not a thing.” I admitted, staring at a large poster of a banana split that hung on the storefront window.

  He shut off the motor and turned to face me. “Did I hear you tell Mrs. Williams you’re going to start going to the women’s meetings?”

  I unfastened my seatbelt. “I thought I might.” I moved to exit the vehicle. My nerves were already a bundle of jumping grasshoppers. I could feel them deep in the pit of my stomach.

  His hand covered mine on the seat. “Wait. The others won’t be here for a while. I’d like to talk.”

  I tugged my tingling hand away and rested it in my lap. “About what?” My gaze met his once more.

  “I was serious when I offered to help find Mitzi’s murderer.” He paused. “Are you going to allow me to, or not?”

  What was he talking about? “I thought you were helping me. Aren’t you going to find out who the mystery writers are in your class?”

  “I want to do more.” He confessed. “It makes me nervous knowing you are determined to find a killer.”

  It was such a sweet thing to say, and from the expression on his features, I knew he meant every word. “I’m not in any danger. But if it will make you feel better I’ll keep you posted on what I’m doing next.”

  He nodded. “And that is?”

  “I’m going to start at the ladies cookbook night.” I couldn’t remember the exact name for it so waved my hand and said, “You know, that cookbook thingy.”

  His laughter filled the truck. “You have got to be kidding. What makes you think someone from church hated Mitzi so much that they’d kill her?”

  Why do men have to act like jerkalopes? “If I don’t check how will I know? Just because someone goes to church doesn’t make him or her perfect. The newspapers prove that every day.” I had a strong urge to wipe that expression of glee off his face.

  “Ok, ok.” He held up his hands and continued laughing.

  Now, I wanted to shoot him. If he could read my thoughts, he’d know that good, God-fearing people have these impulses to kill at a moment’s notice. Not that I ever would.

  “I
’m serious. You don’t know what triggered Mitzi’s murderer to kill her. It could have been anything. Think about it. Lots of people are surprised at what their friends and neighbors do.” I felt my cheeks and neck growing hotter and hotter.

  He sobered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just find it hard to believe someone from my church would do such a thing.” His expression turned somber and all my hot air flew out the window like a deflated balloon.

  He turned and stared out the window.

  I reached out and touched his arm. “Well, you are probably right.”

  Still he stared as if deep in thought. Made me wonder if I’d awakened some deeply buried memory.

  “I’ll probably just come home with some great, easy, old fashioned recipes.”

  His attention returned. He patted my hand. “Let’s hope so.”

  I smiled. Whatever had clouded his thoughts a few moments ago had vanished with the thought of food. “If I’m lucky, maybe Mrs. Williams will share her apple pie recipe with us.”

  He laughed once more. “Don’t bet on it. She’s been promising that recipe to the pastor for years.”

  I enjoyed the sound of his rich merriment. As we entered the restaurant, I wondered if Mrs. Williams used Sara Lee’s recipe. Probably. It had been my secret recipe for years.

  ****

  Lunch had been nice but it felt good to be home and out of those heels. They were blue and new. Deadly combination. And the fact that they clashed with the black sweater and red skirt only added to my misery. That and the knowledge that I had to return to church tonight. Not that I didn’t love going to church, but my feet hurt so much right now, I dreaded forcing them into shoes later.

  I took a quick warm shower, put on my flannel PJs, and crawled into bed for a quick nap. Dreams of Brandon as a little boy haunted my sleep. His face filled with sorrow begged me to comfort him. He’d held out his arms to me and cried. Anger filled his eyes when I couldn’t reach him fast enough. The little boy kicked and screamed. My heart ached for the child that I knew was Brandon. Then, the face changed from the child’s to the man’s. I saw the same distracted look that I’d seen earlier in the parking lot at Braums. I reached out to comfort him and found cold air. I awoke with a start.

  It had seemed so real. He’d been so alone and sorrowful. What did I know about the man? I counted the things I knew on one hand. One, he’s a professor. Two, he goes to church. I tossed off the covers and padded to the kitchen.

  I needed to know more. Something warm to drink might help. I filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. My favorite mug sat by the sink. I pulled it close while my thoughts ran in circles trying to figure out ways to learn about the handsome Brandon Harvest.

  Sprocket barked. I walked through the living room and then out onto the porch. In the far corner of the yard I could see his shaggy body. He stared up into the tree. My gaze followed his. Sara’s orange tabby cat sat on the branch closest to the ground—but far enough away from Sprocket to be safe—daintily licking its paws.

  The teakettle whistled. I returned to the kitchen and turned off the burner, then added homemade sugar-free hot chocolate mix to my mug. The scent of rich cocoa surrounded me as I poured the hot water over the mixture. Maybe I’d take it as my recipe for the cookbook.

  My thoughts returned to investigating Brandon. Would Megan know where to begin? I picked up the phone to call her, and then paused. What would she think of her mother investigating the background of...I replaced the phone. On second thought, I wouldn’t ask for her help. Too many questions, and sometimes she forgets I’m the mama and she’s the child.

  I took a tentative sip of the cocoa. The thought came to me to ask Detective Howard, but it left as swiftly as it arrived. The good policeman would haul Brandon in for questioning and then how would that look? It’d probably kill whatever relationship we might have.

  Didn’t want to do that.

  I shook my head as I returned to the bedroom to get dressed for church, again. “Nope, definitely don’t want to mess up this relationship.”

  TITLE

  Lethal Lasagna

  Chapter 8

  “You really should get a cell phone.” Mitzi’s son, Jake’s, voice announced on my answering machine. “Call me when you get in, I have a favor to ask.” The sound of his voice went from smiling to sad.

  I wondered what he needed but decided to call him back after I’d had a nice cool shower. If women didn’t sweat but only glistened, I knew the shimmer of my skin would put a Christmas tree to shame.

  This morning, Sprocket had acted like a new puppy on our walk. My arms and shoulders throbbed from his yanking and pulling on the leash.

  A soothing shower and two ibuprofen later, I dialed Jake’s number at work. He picked up on the second ring. “Hey Jake, I got your message. What can I do to help?” I wasn’t sure what I was offering to help with but he was my best friend’s son, and I’d do any thing for him.

  “Thanks for calling me back, Claire. If you don’t want to do this, I’ll totally understand.” His voice sounded sad and tired.

  I laughed, hoping to make him feel better. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll tell you if I can do it. How’s that?”

  “Fair enough. I need to pack up Mom’s things.” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and pushed on. “Her landlord called, and well, I’m not sure I can do that right now. Can you? Would you mind?”

  Tears filled my eyes. The sound of his pain and sadness were almost my undoing. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

  He sighed. “Thanks.”

  Silence filled the line for several moments. He had to be told what I was up to but how could I voice it? I took a deep breath and plunged in. “Jake, I’m looking into your mother’s death. Is it okay if I go through her things as I pack them away?”

  I could picture him in my mind’s eye running his hands through thick black hair. “Sure. I don’t see what it will hurt.” I knew weariness filled his sad eyes.

  “Thank you.”

  More silence filled the line. Finally, I heard him clear his throat once more. “Claire, I’ve rented a storage shed over on Broadway. Do you know the ones?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s number two-ninety-two. Mr. Jackson the owner will give you a key and padlock.” He sighed heavily.

  “Okay, I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry. Her things will be there when you’re ready.”

  We hung up. Sorrow built afresh in my heart. I became even more determined to find Mitzi’s murderer. Jake deserved to know why his mother had been killed. I hoped it would give him closure.

  I moved to my bedroom and dressed in a light blue pantsuit. The blue had reminded me of a Robin’s egg when I bought it. I attached a butterfly pin to the collar and smiled. The butterfly’s wings were filled with light pink gemstones. It glistened in the light. Perfect.

  A glance at the clock alerted me to the passing time. I grabbed up my navy blue pocketbook, poured the contents of my red purse into it, and headed toward the door.

  Several lemon-scented pine tree air fresheners lay on the washing machine by the back door. I grabbed one and hurried to my car where I ripped it out of its plastic and hung it onto the rear view mirror. The citrus smell filled the interior.

  My intent was to go to Mitzi’s apartment and have a look around before going to the creative writing class.

  As I backed out of the driveway, I noticed Sara standing on her front porch. She waved and I waved back. Why was she home from work? I pulled up in front of her house and got out. “Is everything okay, Sara?”

  She sniffled and blew her nose into an oversized man’s handkerchief. I wondered where she’d gotten it. Probably the men’s Big and Tall store.

  “I caught a nasty cold over the weekend.” She grumbled inside the handkerchief. “I hate the hot days and cool nights. It seems every summer at this time I tend to get sick. I’ll have to stop staying outside when the evenings cool off.”

  The last thing I neede
d was an early fall cold, but since Mitzi’s death I’d decided to take an interest in my neighbor’s lives so I asked. “I’m headed into town. Can I get you anything?” I felt a moment of pride as I realized it was also the thing God would want me do.

  “Naw. Boss just told me to go home and get some rest. I’ve had some, but I think I’ll go lie down for a while and get some more. Thanks anyway.” She blew her nose loudly, turned, and entered the house.

  I slipped back inside my car. The smell of lemon drifted about me, giving the illusion of sitting in an orchard. I cracked a window. Not even orchards smell this sweet. For a brief moment, I wondered if those things came with instructions or if they were always this overpowering at first. Well, they were when I used them, but other people’s vehicles always held only a hint of scent.