by Tamar Myers
“Sam, you’re not going to get any sympathy from me. A free trip to Europe—well, just zip your lip and have fun. That’s my advice.”
“And what would you do if Gabriel’s mother insinuated herself into your life?”
“Why, I’d welcome her with open arms.” I smiled. “Fortunately the woman in question is afraid to leave Manhattan for the wilds of the Hamptons, much less Hernia, Pennsylvania. I’ll only have to deal with her on trips to the Big Apple, and since I’ve never been farther east than Harrisburg, and Gabe is so content here, I really don’t foresee a problem. Sure, we’ll go visit her— but only once or twice a year—and then only for a few days at a time. I can handle that.”
“We’ll see about that when the time comes,” Sam said. “Roy Miller thought he was getting off the hook because his mother-in-law lived in Germany.”
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that. Elspeth’s mother came and stayed for six months, didn’t she?”
“Roy was over here every day during that visit, just to escape for a few minutes. It was bad enough him living with Elspeth, but Frau Schmidt made her daughter look like Mother Teresa.”
“You and Roy were close friends, weren’t you? Tell me honestly, Sam, have you ever heard from him? I promise I won’t tell Elspeth.”
I could tell by his eyes I shouldn’t have asked the question. It was clear that Roy’s sudden disappearance had wounded his friend deeply.
“We had a fishing trip planned, Magdalena. I still can’t believe he just bailed on me like that. I wouldn’t have done that to him.”
“No, you wouldn’t have.”
Not knowing what else to say, I grabbed Sam’s phone and started calling exterminators. I began with Dandy Dan, who informed me in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t even bring himself to set foot in the reptile house at the Pittsburgh Zoo. I went back to the top of the list, but not a soul I reached was interested in tackling a twenty-five-foot python. One person even hung up on me, after chiding me for making a prank call.
I was on the verge of tears—more so from frustration than from despair—when my knight in shining armor walked through the door.
25
Stirred Custard
Stirred or soft custard is the basis for various sauces and desserts. It is often erroneously referred to as boiled custard. Serve alone as a cold dessert or use as a custard sauce.
2½ cups milk
1 teaspoon salt
4 large eggs or 7 egg yolks, lightly beaten
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
¼ to ½ cup (or to taste) sugar
Warm the milk in a heavy saucepan to just remove the chill. Take off heat. Beat together the eggs, sugar, and salt in a bowl until well combined. Strain into milk. Stirring constantly, cook over low heat until the mixture has thickened and coats the back of a metal spoon, about 10 minutes. Do not let the custard boil or it will curdle. Immediately remove from the heat and plunge the pan into a bowl of ice water. Add the vanilla, and stir until the custard is cool, to prevent further cooking. Pour into cups or a bowl and serve at once, or cover with plastic wrap placed directly on the surface and refrigerate until ready to use.
SERVES 4 OR 5
26
“Gabe!”
Oblivious to Sam’s presence, and that of the two Amish women who floated in on his heels, my fiance grabbed me and planted a brief kiss on my meager mug. I, who was not oblivious, pushed him away.
“Gabe,” I cried again, “please. Everyone’s watching.”
“Well, I missed you.”
“I missed you too, but—”
The hunky doctor grabbed me again and maneuvered me next to the cooler that held Sam’s supposedly fresh produce. My fiance knew that no sane person would buy that stuff, and he was right. The Amish women, who were of sound mind, gave us wide berth. Gabe shamelessly kissed me again, and again I pushed him away, lest what we were doing lead to dancing. After all, I was feeling pretty light on my feet.
“I need an exterminator,” I gasped.
“A what?”
“There’s a twenty-five-foot python loose in my inn.”
Gabe shook his head. He has dark curly hair and an olive complexion, both of which were accented by his dazzling white grin.
“Magdalena, you never cease to amaze me. Why is it that I believe you?”
“Because I don’t he—well, not on a regular basis.”
“Please, start at the beginning.”
I did. I told him everything that had happened that day, except for Freni’s insinuation that I would consider spending the night at his place. When I was through he took out his cell phone and, without even consulting a phone book, dialed. Within minutes he had made arrangements to have the snake captured.
“How did you do that?”
“It’s the pet shop where I got Little Freni. Harold, the owner, is big on snakes. He can’t do it today, Mags, but first thing in the morning he’ll be there with his crew. That’s if you’ll let him keep the thing.”
“I don’t care if he keeps it—but it isn’t mine. Legally, it belongs to the colonel’s heirs. But then again, they say possession is nine-tenths of the law, right?”
“Atta girl, and in any case we won’t say anything to Harold until after he catches and removes it. Then it will be in his possession.”
I felt better already. “Gabe, maybe here in front of the wilted veggies is not the right place to ask, but—”
“You had lunch yet?”
“Just some of Freni’s cookies.”
“They’re the best, but that’s not lunch. I need to talk to you about something as well. Let’s talk over lunch.” “You mean at your house?” The Babester is, after all, a pretty good cook.
“No,” he said quickly. “My place is a mess. Let’s drive into Bedford.”
I didn’t have the time to drive all the way into town. Not unless it meant I could kill two birds with one scone—so to speak.
“The Sausage Barn,” I said. “But we have to take two cars, because I have errands to run.”
“But, hon, we were just there yesterday. Besides, you sure you want to run into Wanda again? You two don’t hit it off very well.”
Not to mention the fact that I’d promised myself never to set foot on those greasy premises again. However, I take my sleuthing duties seriously, even if I’m not paid, and I had a new question for Wanda. Anyway, there was always a chance that a miracle had occurred overnight and the woman with the hobbling beehive had been infected by a cleaning virus.
“I need a pancake fix,” I said firmly. “And don’t you worry about Wanda and me; we go way back. We’re as close as Cain and Abel.” The Genesis reference was for Gabe’s benefit, since he knows virtually nothing about the New Testament.
He grinned appropriately. “But as I recall from Hebrew school, Cain killed Abel.”
“Okay, so that was a bad example. We’re as close as David and Jonathan, although if you ask me, they were a little too close. Thist me, Wanda and I don’t go that far back—not that I personally think there’s anything wrong with it, mind you.”
“It’s all right, hon. The Sausage Barn it is. Just promise me one thing.”
“Even up to half my kingdom,” I said, continuing the biblical theme.
But Gabe was no longer smiling. “I know you’ve got something up your sleeve—some police business, I’m sure. I also know there’s no way I’m going to stop you, but please, please, be careful.”
It would be wrong to say that Gabe’s pleas fell on deaf ears. I heard them, I just chose to ignore them.
The news that I was a seven-foot ape woman had reached every soul in the county by then, and even a few tourists. The minute we stepped into Wanda’s establishment I was besieged by autograph requests and more photo opportunities. One couple, visitors from Ohio (it was obvious by their strange clothes), dragged their young son with them to meet me.
“She won’t bite,” the father told his whimpering heir.
“Ya
sure?”
“Yeah, she’s harmless,” the mother said. “Besides, you can tell it’s a costume.”
“She ain’t so hairy,” the impertinent child said, emboldened. He pulled loose from his father’s grip and took a step closer. “But, man, is she ever ugly.”
“I beg your pardon!” I stamped a size eleven.
The crowd gasped and stepped back.
“Hey Bigfoot lady, ya do any tricks, or do ya just stand there like a big idiot?”
The crowd stepped forward.
“Do I do what?”
The urchin’s confidence grew along with the crowd’s expectations. “Ya heard me, tricks.”
“Oh, I do tricks all right.” I growled, and then snapped my jaws like the mangy mutt my sister carries in her bra.
The crowd gasped and stepped back again. With all this backward and forward movement, they may as well have been dancing. Or having sex.
The bigmouthed brat had met his match. He burst into tears and ran to hide behind his mother’s generous derriere.
“Hon,” Gabe whispered, “easy on the kid.”
“You heard him call me an idiot,” I cried.
There is no denying that Wanda Hemphopple is an outstanding businesswoman. “Folks, folks,” she yelled, clapping her hands, “let’s give Bigfoot a round of applause.”
There was the faint sound of two hands coming together. They may not even have belonged to the same person.
“And now,” Wanda said, quite undeterred, “for just a dollar Bigfoot will be happy to sign your place mats.” The mats were paper, by the way, and probably cost Wanda less than a penny each.
“That’s two bucks a signature,” I hissed. “Bigfoot has to live too.”
“Ah, she’s fake,” someone besides the kid said. The crowd drifted back to their congealing meals.
Wanda was fit to be tied. “Thanks a lot, Magdalena.”
“Hey, at least I provided your patrons with some free entertainment.”
“She did do that,” Gabe said. He winked at Wanda, which made her blush. “Mrs. Hemphopple, we’ve come to do some serious eating. Any chance we can have that booth with all the vines?”
Wanda mumbled something, probably directed at me, but she grabbed a pair of menus and led us to my favorite booth at the rear.
“I can send Dorothy to wait on youse,” she said, “or I can get your usuals myself.”
I smiled pleasantly. “I don’t have a usual, dear.”
“Oh, yes, you do.”
“Is that so?”
“You’re damn tooting.” Wanda can get away with that kind of language because she belongs to a more liberal branch of Mennonites.
“And just what would that be?”
“Two eggs poached hard, bacon not too crisp, wheat toast with marmalade, and buttermilk pancakes—don’t make the pancakes too dark. Oh, and coffee with enough half-and-half to start an ice cream factory.”
“Lucky guess, dear.”
“Ha.” Wanda started to walk away.
“But you don’t know Gabe’s!”
She wheeled. “Three eggs over easy—”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Look, Wanda, I need to talk to you.”
“I’m innocent,” she hissed. “I thought I made that clear.”
“Oh, well, this is something different altogether.” Surely there is special dispensation for lying during the course of performing one’s civic duty.
“So, talk.”
“Here?”
“Isn’t my kitchen too greasy for you?”
“Well, that’s no reason to be nasty and put me on the spot.” I turned to Gabe. “Would you mind terribly running out to my car to see if I left my purse in it?”
“It’s on the seat beside you, hon.”
I’ve been accused of having a glare that can turn fresh plums into prunes in a matter of seconds. I’m really not that fierce. Gabe knew, however, not to get between me and my work, which at the moment was Wanda. He slid out of the booth and slipped quietly away.
“Sit down, dear,” I said to the woman with the Tower of Babel bun.
“I don’t think so, Magdalena. This is my restaurant, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Suit yourself, dear. Now, where was I? Oh yes, what color car do you drive?”
“Blue. Do I win a prize?”
She was being sarcastic, but I was too shocked by her answer to pick up on it at first. I hadn’t expected to strike gold on my second spadeful of earth.
“What did you say?”
“Magdalena, do you have a hearing problem?”
“You said ‘blue,’ right?”
“That’s what I said. So now what? Is that hunk you tricked into marrying you going to come back with the grand prize?”
“Huh?”
“Or is he the prize?”
“Hey, just one minute! He’s a prize all right, but he’s mine. Although he is a hunk, isn’t he?”
“Oh, I get it! You sent him away because you want to have that little talk with me—you know, the sex talk. Frankly, Magdalena, I should think you would have learned all the answers to those questions during that so-called marriage of yours to Aaron Miller.”
“I did no such thing—I mean, I learned plenty. Not that it’s any of your business. What I want to talk about now is you.”
Except for a few folks in the Witness Protection Program, there isn’t a soul alive who doesn’t want to talk about him- or herself. Lots of people claim they don’t, but they’d change their times in a Bedford minute if they felt safe with their listeners. Wanda was no exception.
“Well, what do you want to know? It’s not like we haven’t known each other our entire lives—well, I’ve known you my whole life, but you, being older—”
“We’re the same age, dear.”
“Is that a fact? Anyway, Magdalena, I was born at 345 Bontrager Street because Mama—”
“I want to know where you were yesterday morning.”
“I beg your pardon?” She whipped her head back so fast her bun started spinning like a hairy tornado. Should it break loose, I would ignore conventional wisdom, which would have me seek shelter under the table. Instead, I’d make a run for it. I may not be in the best of shape, but I probably could outrun all but the fastest of cooties. The airborne diseases I’d have to take my chances with.
Fortunately, the bun held. “Wanda, if you don’t want to answer my question here, I can arrange for you to be brought down to the station.” It was a truthful statement, just not as easy to accomplish as it sounded.
“Dorothy, cover me,” she yelled. Then she slipped into the booth and sat across from me. “Look, I don’t know how you found out, but it has nothing to do with the colonel’s murder. Leroy and I were seeing each other long before he came to town. And Leroy never even met the man. Magdalena, you’re not going to say anything to my husband, are you?”
“Well, I—”
“If you were married to Fred Hemphopple, you’d understand. Sure, he’s nice enough at church or if you meet him on the street—everyone agrees about that—but behind closed doors he’s as cold as yesterday’s bacon grease.”
It was a relief to learn that she didn’t recycle the grease. “This Leroy—”
“He’s not married, Magdalena, so it’s not like I’m taking him away from his family. I thought of getting a divorce, of course, but you know the church frowns on that. Besides, I don’t think I’m brave enough to marry a black man. Not here. We’d have to move to Pittsburgh or someplace like that.”
“You’re having an affair with an African-American?”
“You have a problem with that?”
“Absolutely none. We’re all God’s children. How old is he?”
I wouldn’t have thought it possible for a bun to blush, but Wanda colored from the tip of her pointed chin to the apex of her teetering tower. Still, never one to run away from a confrontation, she maintained eye contact. “Twenty-three.”
I jiggled my pinkies in my ea
rs to make sure they were in working order. “For a second there, dear, I thought you said twenty-three.”
“I did.”
My tired brain was having a hard time keeping up with the astonishing revelation. “You mean years, right?”
“Oh, I get it. You’re prejudiced. Well, let me tell you something, Little Miss Bigamy—”
“I’m not prejudiced,” I wailed. “I’m intrigued.”
“Does that mean you won’t tell Fred?”
“This isn’t even my business. What I wanted to know was, where were you yesterday morning at eight?”
“Magdalena, you always were a little slow, weren’t you? It’s a wonder they didn’t put you in Miss Lehman’s special education class. I overslept at Leroy’s house. Came straight from there to the restaurant. Fortunately it was Dorothy’s turn to open. You even can ask her—but you can’t say anything about Leroy. You can ask him, of course, if you still think I need an alibi.”
Wanda’s affair may not have been my business, but it was the most interesting thing I’d heard in ages. “What about Fred?” I asked. “Where does he think you spent the night?”
“Pffft. Like he even noticed I wasn’t there. But to answer your question, I told him I was spending it with my cousin Shirley.”
“Whom you’ve undoubtedly spent a lot of time with lately.”
She giggled. “We’re a close family.”
Lodema Schrock would have a field day with this news, not that I’d ever tell her. The righteous of Hernia would turn their backs on the Sausage Barn in a cholesterol-compromised heartbeat. The next thing one knew it would be turned into a flea market that sold rip- off designer goods made by child labor on some Pacific islands.
“Give me Leroy’s number,” I said. “If your story checks out, my lips are sealed.”
Wanda got up with a grunt. “Don’t think you’re going to get any free meals just because you know.”
“Not even today’s breakfast?” Strictly speaking I wasn’t asking for a bribe, since it was she who’d brought the topic up. I was merely clarifying what her statement meant.
She sighed. “Okay, just this once, but no extra bacon.”
