Pasta Mortem

by Ellery Adams

  “Good morning, Fern,” James greeted the pretty, auburn-haired young woman, who wore the same tortoiseshell-style glasses as Scott and Francis. A talented photographer, she worked part-time at the library and dated Scott.

  “Hi, Mr. Henry.”

  “I had to take the truck into Harrisonburg so the mechanic could check it over,” James explained.

  “Again?” the twins asked in unison.

  “When are you getting new wheels?” Scott asked. “That truck is as old as a PlayStation One.”

  “Yeah, you could get a brand-new Tesla,” Francis suggested.

  “Not you too,” James grumbled. “The truck is fine, especially for a family. Granted, it’s getting older, but a few repairs should keep it on the road. What are you up to?” he asked and motioned to the red hearts.

  Fern said, “For Valentine’s Day, I thought I’d make a wall tree out of paper and use the hearts as leaves. I’ll keep the hearts blank in case anyone wants to write their names on them.”

  Scott slid Francis a look. James believed they had a silent way of communicating and he was pretty sure the two were not excited about the upcoming romantic holiday.

  “That’s a great idea, Fern,” James said, moving behind the counter and admiring their handiwork. “Where are you thinking of putting it?”

  “I thought it was time to take down my wall of photos,” she said, indicating a collage of photos of library patrons. During the Christmas season, the twins had fashioned a photo booth where patrons could have their pictures taken by Fern. Later, the creative young woman had created the collage.

  “Tell her that’s a bad idea, Professor,” Scott said, laying his scissors down on the counter. “Everyone likes seeing themselves on the library wall and they’re seriously cool photos. We can put the, um, Valentine tree over near the Romance section.”

  “I have to agree with Scott, Fern,” James said, accepting late fees from a patron and handing over their scanned books and receipts with a smile. He turned and looked at the photos on the wall, prepared to further his case, when a thought struck him. Had Murphy been in the library since Fern put up her creative display? Had she stolen Fern’s idea of photographing the locals? If so, why?

  At that moment, Bennett, dressed in his postal uniform, strode into the library, a magazine in his hand and a look of thunder on his face. “Excuse me,” he said to the twins and Fern. “James, I need to borrow you for a minute. You better look at this. Right now. That Murphy. I knew she was up to no good!”

  James and Bennett moved down the counter. James accepted a copy of Southern Style magazine from Bennett, his heart rate kicking up. The glossy cover had a photo of the Hearth and Home cast members posed in the house the show had been filmed in. They were grouped in the kitchen, smiling, under a wooden sign that read “All Because Two People Fell in Love.”

  “Look at the articles listed on the side,” Bennett ground out.

  James read aloud: “Hearth and Home’s Thirtieth Anniversary Reunion! Bestselling Author Murphy Alistair on her new book, Murder in the Caverns.”

  He turned the magazine over. The entire back page was the colorful cover of Murphy’s new book. James knew the story would be a fantastical retelling of a murder investigation the supper club had conducted after finding a dead body at Luray Caverns a few years ago. Murphy’s previous book had been equally horrible, but wildly popular. James looked at Bennett in dismay. “She’s started the publicity for her new book in a big way.”

  “That’s bad, but you missed this,” Bennett said impatiently. He flipped the magazine back to its front and tapped his finger on the third feature, which read in large, red capital letters, “FIVE BEST UNDISCOVERED SMALL TOWNS YOU SHOULD BE LIVING IN!” In smaller letters underneath were the words “Including Murphy Alistair’s own Quincy’s Gap!”

  “What?” James said, confusion turning to anxiety. “Southern Style has named Quincy’s Gap one of the best small towns to live in?”

  Bennett snatched the magazine from his hand. “Look at this.” He flipped through pages and held open the magazine. In bright blue letters were the words “Quincy’s Gap! Mountains! Apples! Farms! Cheap Land! Wouldn’t you want to live among the friendliest people in Virginia?”

  And there they all were. James, Lucy, Bennett, Gillian, and Lindy, and in a smaller shot, Jackson and Milla. Murphy had given the photos she’d taken of everyone at their jobs to Southern Style for the feature on Quincy’s Gap and the promotion of her new book. She had never intended to use the photos in the Star. And she’d gotten the idea from Fern’s innocent wall of photos in the library! Outrage ran through James.

  Scott and Francis had snuck over behind him and had been reading over his shoulder.

  “Wow, Professor, you’re famous. Southern Style is based out of Louisville, Kentucky, but it’s sold all over the country, not only in the South.”

  Francis said, “That TV show reunion is next week in Cardinal’s Rest at the Red Bird B and B. That’s twenty minutes southwest of here. Willow told me they’re making extra candy at Quincy’s Whimsies for tourists. I’d better call her and tell her to expect a tsunami of people coming to see the ‘best undiscovered small town’ as well as those celebrities.”

  “That Murphy,” Bennett said through gritted teeth.

  James quickly scanned the article. It made Quincy’s Gap, population 2,026—soon to be 2,027—sound very appealing. Good schools. Low crime. Picturesque. All of which was true. James could imagine lots of people across the country reading about his town and rushing to buy up property. Hordes of people. Developers buying land and building new subdivisions, new apartments, new office buildings. When they were done, James wouldn’t even recognize the town he’d grown up in, the town he loved, where he planned to raise his children. And he and his friends would have played an unwitting part in the nightmare that awaited them! Anger gripped him.

  “Bennett, you’re delivering this magazine today to subscribers?”

  “Yeah, and the grocery stores and drugstores are getting it today, too. Some sort of rush deal. We need to get together and talk about this.”

  James nodded in agreement, his head reeling. “This calls for an emergency meeting of the supper club. I’ll send out emails right away suggesting we go to Mamma Mia’s restaurant for dinner.”

  “See you then. In the meantime, I’ve got a fresh box of donut holes to eat.” Bennett trudged out of the library and into the cold.

  James stared at the magazine. He wouldn’t be the only one angered by what Murphy had done. Besides his friends, other townsfolk were bound to be up in arms over this kind of publicity for Quincy’s Gap and what it might mean for all their futures.

  Murphy had better watch her back.

  Chapter Three

  James walked into his childhood home with Jane and Eliot. The smell of cilantro, coming from a big pot heating on the stove, met his nostrils. He welcomed the warmth not only of the comfortable, homey kitchen but also of Milla’s smile.

  “James and Jane, come in out of that awful cold,” Milla said, wiping her hands on her apron. “And there’s my favorite grandson! Do you like avocado, Eliot? I’m making you a vegetarian black bean soup and chopping some on top.”

  “Grandma!” Eliot yelled and rushed into Milla’s waiting arms. He hugged her tight. “I like everything you cook.”

  Milla’s smile grew bigger, if possible, and her silvery blue eyes twinkled with these words of praise. “Oh, it’s good to see you, little man. I’m so happy that your mom and dad brought you over.”

  Sitting at the kitchen table, James’s father, Jackson, wearing his favorite overalls and a warm plaid shirt, said, “Don’t crush the boy to death, Milla.”

  “Pop-Pop!” Eliot shouted. He tore himself from Milla’s arms and ran to his grandfather, who lifted him onto his lap. In a stage whisper, Jackson said, “See if you can get your grandmother to give us some tortilla chips with the soup. She won’t let me have any.”

  Eliot’s brows dr
ew together.

  James exchanged a rueful glance with Milla.

  Milla said, “Tortilla chips are not on your stroke prevention plan, my love.”

  “I already had a stroke,” Jackson replied darkly.

  “And you won’t have another as long as you take care of yourself,” Milla said cheerfully.

  “You okay, Pop-Pop?” Eliot asked, his golden brown eyes big with concern.

  “Fit as a fiddle,” Jackson declared. “But you and I have a mission to accomplish.”

  “We do?” Eliot asked.

  “Sure, go into the TV room and see if you can find what it is.”

  Eliot scrambled down and raced into the adjoining room.

  “What’s going on, Pop?” James asked.

  “I picked up one of them Lego dinosaur sets after you called and asked us to look after the boy tonight.”

  Jane said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Are you kidding?” Milla said and laughed. “Jackson likes putting those things together as much as Eliot!”

  “Maybe it’ll take my mind off the trouble about to hit this town,” Jackson said curtly. “Best undiscovered small town, hmpf. Won’t be for long. Gonna be like when Home Doctor took over Henry’s Hardware and Supply, a place I built from the ground up, only this will be on a bigger scale.”

  “Pop, that’s why Jane and I asked you to watch Eliot tonight. I’m meeting with my friends to see exactly what’s going on and what we can do about it. I don’t want to see Quincy’s Gap change either.”

  Jane said, “I don’t know. Exposing Eliot and the new little one to a bigger group of people might be good for them in the long term.”

  James stayed quiet. Jane was entitled to her opinion, he was entitled to his. Keeping the peace between them meant more to him right now than trying to get her to see things his way. He wanted Eliot and his little girl to grow up in the same small town he had. What was wrong with that?

  Jackson, however, felt free to speak his mind. “Jane, I’ve come to love you like a daughter, but you are dead wrong.” He banged his fist on the table. “There’s nothin’ wrong with our town as it is. It’s a good place to raise children. You want to take the boy to a bigger place, take him to visit Charlottesville, Richmond, or Harrisonburg, but bring him back to where he knows his neighbors and friends.”

  James couldn’t help but agree with his father, but he said nothing.

  Milla stepped into the breach. “Jane, dear, how have you been feeling?”

  “Fine, thank you,” Jane said.

  “I know how to make homemade ice cream and could make you a batch of your favorite flavor,” Milla offered.

  Jane put a hand to her stomach. “That’s a kind offer, Milla, but not now. Maybe another time.”

  “We’d better go,” James said. “Thanks for taking care of Eliot.”

  “I’ll tell him we’re leaving,” Jane said and went to find her son.

  Milla said, “You don’t have to thank us, James. He’s our grandson and we love him to pieces. He’s welcome here anytime. You know that.”

  James stepped over and gave Milla a hug. “I’m so glad Pop found you after Mom died,” he said into her dusty blonde curls. He turned to his scowling father. “Try not to worry yet, Pop.”

  Jackson grunted.

  Jane returned. “Eliot’s got the package open and half the dinosaur built already.”

  Jackson’s chair scraped the floor as he got up. “Better get in there.”

  James put his hand on the doorknob. “Are we getting that big snowstorm the weatherman keeps warning us about, Pop?”

  “I’ll let you know when the hound next door starts howlin’. Until then, nope,” Jackson said and disappeared into the other room.

  “Is he okay?” James asked Milla in a low voice.

  Milla walked over to them. “Cranky as ever, but I’m up to the challenge! We went to the doctor today and all Jackson’s reports were excellent, so we’re on track. Now, you two try to enjoy your dinner and take your time getting back. When you open the door, watch that Prince Charles doesn’t get out—oh, dear, I’m sorry,” she said, putting her hands to her cheeks. “Sometimes I forget he’s on the Rainbow Bridge playing with other dogs and waiting for me.”

  Milla’s beloved dog, a corgi, had passed away in his sleep shortly after Jackson and Milla were married.

  “No need to apologize.” Jane hugged her, then they left.

  When James and Jane arrived at Mamma Mia’s, they found the supper club members already seated at a big round table covered with a pristine white tablecloth. Red napkins were folded at each place. Dozens of Italian flags hung from the ceiling and colorful paintings depicting scenes around Italy hung on the walls. A recording of Maria Callas singing from Madame Butterfly met his ears. James thought the décor had improved for the better since the last time he’d been at the restaurant.

  The supper club members greeted James and Jane, and then James said, “I hope we’re not late. We had to drop Eliot off at his grandparents.” He looked around. “Where’s Lindy?”

  Gillian, dressed in a purple cowl-necked sweater, sat next to Bennett. “It’s parent-teacher night at the high school. She and Luis had to be there.”

  “Can we order soon?” Bennett asked. “Being angry at Murphy made me work up an appetite.”

  James said nothing about the donut holes. Why should he guilt Bennett when he’d been eating cheese puffs all afternoon?

  Lucy had changed from her deputy’s uniform and wore a fuzzy blue sweater that brought out her eyes. “I already know what I want. Hurry and decide, James, before the waitress comes back.” She smiled at Jane. “How are you feeling?”

  Under the table, James gripped Jane’s hand. She looked up from the menu she’d been studying and said, “Fine, thank you, Lucy.” Returning her gaze to the menu, she said, “I think I’ll go with the chopped salad minus the house dressing. How about you, James?”

  James looked at the description for the chopped salad. Crispy prosciutto, tomatoes, blue cheese, avocado, and house dressing. While it sounded good, James wanted something more substantial. “The Lighter Style Chicken Marsala is tempting. The word ‘light’ makes me think I’ll be in my diet zone.”

  “My man,” Bennett said, “you read my mind.”

  “Good choices,” Gillian commended the two. “For myself, I’ll have the stuffed mushrooms and some olives.”

  The waitress came and took their order. Lucy asked for a bottle of Chianti for the table, saying she needed a glass of wine after the day she’d had. After the waitress left, Lucy passed around a copy of Southern Style. “In case anyone hasn’t seen it.”

  “Are you kidding?” Bennett asked. “The whole town is buzzing, not only with the Best Undiscovered Small Town label we got, but also about the Hearth and Home reunion.”

  “I’m sorry if townsfolk think that newcomers would be bad. I, for one, think new blood would be a good thing,” Gillian declared. “Maybe if the town grew, you’d feel more inclined to be affectionate in public, Bennett. And don’t forget that I asked you to consider shaving off your mustache.”

  “More people mean more mail deliveries and more evil canines,” Bennett said. “I like Quincy’s Gap exactly as it is. Otherwise, I wouldn’t live here. And I’m not shaving my ’stache.”

  “I talked to Lindy right before she started her parent-teacher meetings,” Lucy said into the awkward silence that had fallen. “She and Luis are concerned about the school infrastructure and whether it can handle being inundated with new children. Lindy said she likes having smaller classes and feels she has the time to help kids individually.”

  “That’s an important point,” James said. “I don’t want Eliot going to an overcrowded school.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Let’s backtrack a minute to Murphy.”

  “She lied to us,” Bennett snapped.

  James nodded. “Yes, she did. I feel betrayed. Furthermore, I have a young photographer, Fern Dickenson, wor
king at the library. She’s been taking photos of patrons and arranging them in a collage on one wall. I think Murphy saw that and distorted the idea into taking photos of us at work.”

  Gillian looked aghast. “I can’t tolerate people who infringe on others’ creative endeavors.”

  “I can’t tolerate Murphy period,” Bennett said. “I guarantee you she’s behind all this Best Undiscovered Small Town and it’s for her own gain, not the town’s.”

  The waitress returned with a basket of breadsticks. Lucy picked one up and used it to point at Bennett. “Exactly. Sullie and I went to a security briefing for the Hearth and Home reunion festivities. Guess what I found out? The editor of Southern Style is Joel Foster. He played the youngest boy, Sam, on Hearth and Home, remember? So Joel Foster had a vested interest in the magazine’s cover featuring the cast members and promoting the reunion. And there’s more.”

  “He had the cutest dimples,” Gillian interrupted.

  “Still has them,” Lucy confirmed. “He was at the meeting. Joel’s got to be in his mid-forties now, but he doesn’t look a day over thirty. A real baby face. Listen to this: I asked him how the magazine had come up with Quincy’s Gap as one of their best undiscovered small towns.”

  “What did he say?” James asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “First, he tried to tell me the towns were chosen by an independent panel consisting of travel experts. I didn’t believe him so I resorted to a little white lie. I told him I knew my friend Murphy Alistair had lobbied to get the town on the list. And get this,” Lucy said, making sure she had everyone’s full attention. “Joel chuckled and then he winked at me and said, ‘Good for Murphy’s business, that’s for sure.’ I wondered, which business? The newspaper? Her books? But Sheriff Huckabee called me away before I could question Joel further.”