“I was a professor,” he finally answered Bennett’s question, grinning shyly at the woman who he assumed must work for the sheriff.
“James Henry, this is Lucy Hanover.” Lindy pointed back and forth at the two of them with a knife covered in mustard. “Behave yourself or she’ll have to arrest you.”
“Hi,” Lucy said, raising her plate in greeting. “Don’t listen to Lindy. I’m just an assistant over at the Sheriff’s Department. I don’t even own a pair of handcuffs,” she teased and then grew quickly serious. “I’d sure love to be a real deputy someday, but I’ve got an uphill road to climb before that can ever happen.” She looked at the window as if seeing herself in the sheriff’s brown and beige uniform and then turned back to James with a dazzling smile. “We’re glad you joined our group, James.”
“Thanks.” James made himself a ham and cheese sandwich and then sat down next to Bennett at the kitchen table. The space was small, but it gave the group’s gathering an immediate feeling of comfort and coziness.
Gillian sat down at the table, picking up one of Lindy’s pink flyers, which had been wadded into a tight ball and tossed next to a ceramic napkin dispenser. “What’s this?” she asked.
Lindy shrugged. “Oh, someone decided to edit my flyer. Probably one of my students. I’m sure they thought it was funny, but I don’t.”
Gillian straightened out the crumpled sheet and read the revised version.
Are You Feeling Like a Total Lard?
Do You Look Like a Bowling Ball?
How about a Beached Whale?
Join Our New Loser’s Club!
We Meet in the Grocery Store!
Make Friends with Other Losers!
Lose with Losers!
Call Lardy Lindy at 1-800-EAT-MORE
“Very original,” Gillian nonchalantly tossed the flyer into the garbage. “Whoever wrote that is a regular Shakespeare.”
“I saw that kid, Brinkley Myers, mowing the lawn across the street,” Bennett said, chewing on his sandwich. “I bet it was him. He always looks like he’s up to no good—just got one of those faces.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Lindy agreed. “He was one of my worst students. He thought he was so great at football that he didn’t have to apply himself to any of his academic subjects. I was stuck being his academic advisor. What a nightmare! He barely graduated and now he’s mowing lawns. Guess he might be a little bitter,” she sniggered. “He still wears that letter jacket all over town. And we’re the losers? Ha! Pass me the chips please, Bennett.”
“That might be the last sandwich with three slices of American cheese and regular mayo you have for a while,” Bennett taunted Lindy. “That is, if we go on your Weight Watchers plan.”
“Gillian wants to do that plan, too,” Lindy said defensively.
“Well, I just cannot eat all of the meat they have on those low-carb plans. Gross!” Gillian shivered dramatically, her hair floating in front of her eyes.
“Are you a vegetarian?” James inquired.
“I eat some chicken and fish, but I’d really like to be. I can almost sense the pain of those animals . . .” Gillian paused and then continued. “The problem I have is if I don’t eat any meat, I end up eating too many heavy starches like bread and potatoes. It all sticks right on me. I don’t even have a dent to indicate a waist anymore. I’m like a walking marshmallow.”
The rest of the group nodded empathetically. “I used to be a lean, mean, wrestling machine,” Bennett said, wiping the potato chip grease shining on his fingers onto his paper napkin. “All that muscle has turned to flab. Know why? ’Cause I eat during my deliveries. Lots of snacks from the 7-Eleven.”
“What do you eat that’s so bad?” Lucy asked.
“Donut holes mostly,” Bennett answered. “You know, the little ones that come in a box. I just pop ’em right in. I eat a whole box every day, and I am not a tall man.” He turned to James. “You can carry some extra weight pretty well. Me, I can’t.”
Lindy piped right up at that comment. “I’m short, too! My deal is that I can’t stop eating candy. I keep bite-sized pieces in my drawer at school as a reward for kids who help me with something, like unloading the pottery kiln. Problem is, I keep eating it.” Lindy patted her stomach. “I’ve eaten myself out of all the clothes in my closet. I have got to do something. You see, I’d love to catch the eye of our new principal. He’s Latino and so handsome . . . but he looks right through me whenever we meet in the hall. I want to make him look twice!”
“Here, here!” Gillian raised her cup of water in salute to Lindy’s romantic dream.
Feeling safe enough to contribute, James decided to volunteer his own problem with food addiction. “I’m a cheese puff man. Once a bag is open, I just can’t stop eating them. I guess . . . well, the real trouble is that they actually . . .” he paused, “make me feel good.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment and James wondered if he had confessed too much with that last statement. Lucy looked at him kindly with those lovely blue eyes and nodded in understanding. He felt his heart pounding beneath his ribs.
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “For me, it’s frosting. You know, like birthday cake or cupcake frosting. When I’ve had a really bad day, I’ll actually eat it right out of the can. It’s gross, I know, but that sweet taste just makes me forget about whatever is going wrong. Until later. Then I feel really terrible for eating it. I keep saying that I want to become a deputy and I know I have the brains for it, but until I can control myself, I’ll never have the body for it. And every time I even think about passing any kind of physical, I feel so lousy that I might actually go back and eat more frosting.” She sighed. “It’s a pretty vicious cycle.”
Everyone bobbed his or her head in agreement. They all knew the feelings of pleasure followed by guilt that Lucy described.
“I have an issue with peanut butter cups,” Gillian whispered. “I sit there, trying to meditate . . .” She turned to James to explain. “I do a lot of yoga. Anyway, I’m trying to get to my state of Zen but instead of visualizing emptiness, I’m picturing peanut butter cups! I’ll never achieve enlightenment at this rate.” Gillian was being serious, but the other four people around the table chuckled and then tried to hide their amused grins.
“So we have two items to cover today,” Lindy redirected the conversation to more proactive territory. “We must choose a diet plan and then decide where to meet for our first official supper club. Gillian and I want Weight Watchers. Bennett and Lucy want to try a low-carb diet. I’m afraid it’s up to you to choose for us, James.”
James shifted in his chair. He had been feeling entirely comfortable a moment ago but now he had suddenly been put on the spot. He really didn’t have a preference as to which diet, he just wanted to be involved with a group that he felt he had something in common with. James looked at each expectant face. When he gazed at Lucy across the table, he noticed that she had a faint peppering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She gave him a shy smile as he looked at her and then turned away to take a few more potato chips out of the bag.
James decided to pick the low-carb diet, as he didn’t think he had the discipline to count points or calories. He assumed from listening to commercials that he would need to keep track of his food on a Weight Watchers type of diet. Plus, he had an inexplicable desire to please his new friend Lucy, and if choosing the diet would make him look good in her eyes, then that was reason enough for him.
“I think I vote for low carb,” he said hesitantly.
Lucy and Bennett happily exchanged high-fives and then Bennett clamped James on the shoulder. “You’re all right, my friend.”
“Since I’m thrilled with this choice, we can meet at my place for the first supper next week,” Lucy offered.
“Just as long as you put those dogs of yours outside,” Bennett grumbled and both Lindy and Gillian laughed.
“I can’t even get near her mailbox,” Bennett explained to James wryly.
“She’s got three of the most terrifying German shepherds known to humankind, and I am not afraid of dogs.”
“This is so exciting!” Lindy exclaimed. “We are going to have so much fun helping one another lose weight!”
“But how do we know what to eat?” Gillian complained.
No one said anything for a moment and then James spoke up, feeling more confident now that his decision had been given and accepted. “We’ve got several diet books at the library. And I’m sure I could look some menus up on the Internet, so I volunteer to figure out what meal we should eat on Sunday. I’ll give everyone an idea for an item to bring.”
Lindy got up and retrieved a pad of paper and a pen from one of her kitchen drawers. “Why don’t we exchange e-mails and phone numbers, and then James can tell us what to bring? Is that okay with everyone?” They all agreed and thanked James for his initiative. “And I think that whoever offers their house shouldn’t have to cook,” Lindy continued. “It’s enough to have to clean up before and after.”
“Oh!” Gillian exclaimed dramatically. “I truly hope we can lose some weight together, but it won’t be easy. Do you think we need a slogan or a name or something to psych us up?”
Everyone grew silent as they tried to conjure up a witty moniker for their supper club group.
“There are five of us. How about the Fab Five?” Lindy offered.
Lucy shook her head. “That’s taken. Besides,” she spread her arms out to encompass everyone at the table. “We’re not exactly fabulous . . . yet.”
“Yeah, more like flabulous,” Bennett cackled.
“So instead of the Fab Five, we’re the Flab Five,” James mumbled, grinning to himself. Everyone turned to stare at him and then four round faces lit up with laughter.
“That’s it!” Lindy shrieked. “That’s what we are! And when we’ve knocked off the flab, we’ll change our name. We need to earn that name change though. I mean, really earn it. Together.” Lindy put her hand in the middle of the table. “Put your hand on mine if you are willing to be a member of the Flab Five and pursue a low- carb diet until your personal weight loss goals have been met.”
Everyone put a hand on top of hers. James was last and as his hand covered Lucy’s, he felt the warmth of the room and the people seated at the table beside him fill up an empty space within him. It had been so long since he had shared any feelings of true companionship that he believed he might actually start to cry. Quickly withdrawing his hand, he covered up the emotions welling up inside his throat by saying, “I’ll prepare a food list of what we’re allowed to eat during my lunch break tomorrow. You can all stop by the library at the end of the day and pick one up. This way, we’ll all be eating low-carb foods during the week. Maybe we can share how much we’ve lost when we meet again next Sunday.”
“If we’ve lost anything,” Gillian said glumly.
Just as all of them were pondering the enormity of their individual tasks, a siren screamed outside the window and a parade of three brown cars with lights blazing zipped past.
“That’s the sheriff! And Keith and Luke and—” Lucy exclaimed, jumping up. “I’m going to call over to the station and see what’s going on! Can I use your phone, Lindy?”
“Sure,” Lindy gestured toward the wall phone in the kitchen. As the sirens moved off in the distance, she mused out loud. “You know, while we’re all here we should talk about some ideas for exercise.”
Bennett groaned. “Seriously,” continued Lindy as Lucy listened to a loud voice coming over the phone line. “Maybe we could meet at the high school track and walk or something.”
“I don’t know,” Gillian replied, tossing the end of one of her scarves over her shoulder. “We all have such different schedules. And I am not a morning person like you folks are.”
“What about you, James?” Lindy peered at him hopefully.
James didn’t answer. He was too distracted by Lucy’s puzzled facial expression. She looked completely bewildered.
“Anything the matter?” James inquired softly, afraid of being too nosy.
“I’m just talking about a little cardiac activity, people,” Lindy plowed on defensively, believing that James had been speaking to her. “It’s not like I’m trying to . . .” She paused as she read the curiosity depicted on the others’ faces. Everyone was watching Lucy. Swiveling in her chair, Lindy joked, “What’s going on Ms. Sheriff?”
“No one is answering at the station,” Lucy replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s just unusual. They’ve got the machine on.” Lucy silently put on her jacket, her eyes showing both concern and a twinkle of exhilaration. “Maybe they need some help. I’d better get down there. This might be my big chance to prove myself indispensable. I’ll call you guys and let you know what’s going on.” Lucy hurried out to her car.
The remaining foursome exchanged perplexed looks but said nothing.
“You don’t think . . .” Lindy began and then trailed off. After a moment she spoke again. “Why would every deputy be at one call? Something big must have happened!”
“What are you suggesting?” Gillian asked, eyes wide.
“You know,” Lindy whispered. “Something bad. Maybe even a murder. I wonder if our local boys could handle that. Maybe they’d have to get help from some cute forensic guys from Harrisonburg or Charlottesville. Maybe Unsolved Mysteries or CSI would want to do a story based on our little town . . .” She trailed off, absorbed in her own fantasy.
“That’s ridiculous. We don’t have that kind of violence in Quincy’s Gap, Lindy. It’s simply impossible.” Gillian tried to sound doubtful, but her voice caught a little on the word “impossible.” She pulled out a crystal pendant from the depths of her shirt and began to rub it fiercely.
Bennett calmly folded his napkin into a tiny square. “Well, homicide rates in the South have increased more than in any other part of the United States, especially when guns have been involved. We may be a small town, but we’re a small Southern town. Statistically, I guess we’re due.” He turned to James. “Statistics are my hobby.”
“You might be useful to a TV producer, Bennett,” Lindy said, fixated with her idea. “I think you’d be a great character for a detective show.”
“You really think so?” Bennett asked, his dark eyes glowing.
James noticed that the group’s initial concern had gradually turned to excitement as the speculations grew. He was ashamed to think that he was feeling a kind of thrill over the mystery, but he had to admit to himself that he was extremely interested in what Lucy might discover down at the station.
“I wonder where those patrol cars were headed,” he mused aloud.
“I can answer that.” Bennett pointed toward the mail truck parked outside. “I’ve got a police scanner in there. If anything’s going on, we’ll hear it.”
The foursome practically ran to the mail truck. Though it was only parked at the end of Lindy’s front walkway, they were all short of breath after hustling their normally sedentary bodies at such speed out to the street.
Bennett hopped into the driver’s seat and began to turn dials on the scanner. There seemed to be a lot of static and the voices were not coming through clearly. Eventually, the garbling ceased long enough for them to understand the words “Sweet Tooth” and “901H.”
“A 901H,” Bennett muttered morosely.
“What the devil is that?” Gillian demanded.
“It’s a code. Most law enforcement agencies share a common set of codes which—”
“But what does it mean?” Gillian shook her fists with agitation. “Is it . . . what does it stand for?”
“It’s a call for an ambulance,” Bennett replied, glancing nervously at Gillian’s fists, “to pick up a dead body.” He sighed lugubriously. “Looks like the sheriff and his crew are too late to help anyone.”
“A body in the bakery? I hope it’s not Megan Flowers or her daughter.” Gillian grabbed Bennett by the sleeve. “Let’s go find out what’s happened!”
>
Bennett’s eyes lit up. He had never actually witnessed any of the codes he could so skillfully translate on his police scanner. “Hop in, folks. It’s against regulations to have you in here, but . . .”
As they sped off downtown, Gillian frowned and said, “I hope Lucy stayed at the station. It’s obvious that she’s dying to wear a uniform, but the Sweet Tooth wouldn’t be the best setting to start offering her investigative services.”
Bennett seemed lost in his own thoughts. “Who knows what kind of situation the sheriff is dealing with right now? All we know is there is a body involved.”
“It’s not what he’s investigating that Gillian’s worried about, Bennett, it’s where he’s investigating. I hope Lucy is staying put at the station, too, answering phones or whatever it is she usually does,” Lindy added as they raced well over the speed limit toward Main Street.
“What would be the problem with her meeting us at the bakery?” James asked in Lucy’s defense. “She must be as curious as the rest of us. You could see she was hoping to be able to offer some kind of assistance.”
Lindy looked at him as if he were a mental patient. “James, we just started a diet. We’ve got to keep Lucy away from the Sweet Tooth. The place is filled with frosting!”
Bennett was accustomed to driving a mail truck bearing the weight of thousands of letters, hundreds of magazines, and dozens of packages, but the painful squealing of tires as his official vehicle of the United States Postal Service turned the corner of Elm and Main streets made him cringe. Apparently, four overweight human bodies shifting around the interior were harder on the truck’s axles than all the mail delivered during the Christmas season.
“Hurry!” Lindy yelled excitedly. Her long hair whipped about her face like a licorice-colored tornado and her round cheeks were tinged pink with expectation. Bennett had his window cranked down in order to escape the overpowering scent of Gillian’s patchouli perfume, but Gillian constantly leaned over his headrest in order to convey a list of impatient questions about the conversations taking place on the police scanner.
Carbs & Cadavers Page 4
