Pasta Mortem

by Ellery Adams

  James started up the Bronco and let it idle for a few minutes, looking at his house and thinking how grateful he was to have his healthy family, soon to include one more, in the Shenandoah Valley, the most beautiful place on earth, in the community he loved with all his being.

  His good mood shattered halfway to the library. The Bronco started shaking and shuddering. James managed to get the vehicle to the side of the road before it shut off completely. “No!” James shouted into the sudden silence. “Haven’t I been good to you, Bronco? Premium gas the last two tanks means nothing to you?”

  He tried the ignition. Silence. Mentally, he reviewed his options. He wouldn’t call Jane to come and get him. He didn’t want her out in twenty-five-degree weather in her condition, although he’d never admit that to her. Besides, what could she do? He needed a mechanic.

  James thought about his bank account and groaned. Another expensive tow to Harrisonburg would put his balance dangerously low. Then he remembered the mobile mechanic Gillian had told him about. He pulled out his wallet and found the slip of paper with Ace’s name and phone number on it. Without any further thought, James punched the digits into his phone.

  The phone rang and rang. Just as James was about to give up, a sleepy male voice said, “Yeah?”

  “This is James Henry. My friend Gillian O’Malley at the Yuppie Puppy gave me this number. Is this Ace?”

  “Yeah.”

  Not exactly verbose, was he, James thought. “Gillian said you’re a mobile mechanic. I’m on the side of the road and can’t get my truck started.”

  “Where ya at?”

  James gave his location.

  Ace said, “Cash only.”

  “Well, if you get me on the road, you can follow me to the ATM.”

  “Be right there.”

  It was forty-five cold minutes later before a shivering James heard the rumble of a truck behind him. Looking in his side-view mirror, he saw a mostly faded red Chevy truck that had to be from the 1970s. The white trim on the bottom and on the roof showed large rust spots. A man opened the driver’s door.

  James climbed outside. “Hello, you must be Ace,” he said in a friendly voice. “I’m James Henry.”

  The skinniest man James had ever seen in his life slouched his way toward him. Tall, he wore a T-shirt and jeans without a jacket and nodded at James without speaking. James stared at the man’s mouth, puzzled. Ace’s jaw worked and James could hear a rapid sucking sound. A minute stretched out before James heard a cracking noise. Ace swallowed, then said, “Hey.”

  James reached back into the Bronco and popped the hood. Leading the way to the front of the truck, he said, “Aren’t you cold, Ace?”

  “Don’t feel the cold,” Ace said. He slumped over the Bronco’s engine, looking around and checking wires. Then he stood upright and rooted around in his pocket.

  James saw a sunflower seed similar to the ones he and Eliot had put out for the birds before Ace popped it in his mouth and the sucking sound started again. James felt himself tense, waiting for the cracking sound. Seconds passed. Finally, Ace cracked the seed and swallowed. “Bad battery.”

  “What? I had it replaced last year.”

  “Lemme find my jumpers.”

  James watched helplessly as Ace rummaged through the cargo bed of the Chevy. Trying to establish some sort of rapport with the young man, James said, “Gillian told me you had a dog named Bacon.”

  “Yep.”

  “Where’s she today?”

  Ace shot him a look. “Too cold outside for a dog.”

  “True. I’m freezing.”

  Ace found the jumper cables. He got back in his Chevy and drove away.

  James stood with his mouth open. Then he told himself to calm down. Ace had to turn the Chevy around on the two-lane road so it would be nose-to-nose with the Bronco.

  Mrs. Kern drove up in her SUV. She was the mother of one of Eliot’s classmates and a patron at the library. “You okay, Mr. Henry?”

  “Yes, thank you. A little trouble with my Bronco. I’ll be back on the road shortly.”

  “All right. See you up at the library, then.” She rolled up her window and went on her way.

  That’s when it hit James. The twins! Scott and Francis would have been waiting outside in this weather for him to open the library for at least half an hour! He was the only one who had a key. Quickly, he punched in Scott’s number on his cell phone.

  “Professor! Are you all right? We’ve been trying to call you.”

  “My phone didn’t ring. Scott, I’m sorry. The Bronco broke down, but I’m having it fixed right now. You and Francis go somewhere warm. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Don’t worry about us. We put a sign on the library door saying we’d be open soon. Francis and I are across the street inside the gas station drinking their awful coffee.”

  Guilt gripped him. “Please pass my apologies along to Francis. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  When he ended the call, James saw that Ace had the jumper cables in place. To his surprise, the Bronco started right away.

  “You were right,” James told Ace as the young man removed the cables. “Follow me to the ATM. How much do I owe you?”

  Ace got another seed out of his pocket, put it in his mouth, and appeared to think about his answer. Once again, James waited anxiously for the cracking sound. He wondered if those seeds were the only thing Ace ate.

  After Ace swallowed, he said, “Fifty dollars. Iffen you want, I’ll git a new battery at the auto parts store. Put it in for no extra charge. You have to give me the money fer it first.”

  “Sounds like a deal. Follow me.”

  James kept the Bronco’s motor running as he waited in line at the drive-through ATM. Once he had cash in hand, he drove to the library. In the parking lot, he gave the money to Ace, who nodded and drove off, the Chevy backfiring once.

  James hastened to the library’s front door, unlocked it, took Scott’s sign down, and hurried to turn up the heat.

  Scott and Francis were right behind him. “Professor,” Francis said, “have you changed your mind now about getting new wheels?”

  Scott deposited a box on the library counter. Then the three of them divested themselves of their outerwear.

  James said, “No, but I’ll tell you something I have changed my mind about. I’m having an extra key made to the library. The two of you can decide who is going to carry it.”

  “Yes!” the twins shrieked in unison and then high-fived one another.

  “I feel like Frodo Baggins in Lord of the Rings,” Francis pronounced. “Only the key is my ring. I’ll rule all the libraries!”

  “Wait a second, bro,” Scott said. “The professor said we decide who’s going to carry it. What will it be? A fight to the death like in The Hunger Games?”

  James opened the box on the library counter as the twins swapped ideas. They decided on an elaborate Excel spreadsheet indicating times, days of possession, and days of visitation for the proposed key.

  “They’re a little late, but here nonetheless,” James said to himself. Inside the box was a plastic bag filled with Valentine conversation hearts. James had made up the messages on the candies himself. He went back to the break room, grabbed a large, clear cookie jar shaped like a thick book and poured the candy inside. He admired the job the company had done and read as the pastel-colored sweets poured into the jar. “Keep Reading. I Love My Library. Loves Books. Read Read Read. I Heart Books.”

  Proudly, James put the jar on the library counter and went about library business trying not to think about telling Jane about the latest trouble with the Bronco. Every once in a while, he peeked outside to see if Ace had returned and was installing the new battery. When he finally saw him, James breathed a sigh of relief.

  After the young man left—James gave him a ten-dollar tip—James turned his mind to the problem of gathering the supper club members together. He needed to fill them in on everything that had happened in the murder cas
e. In the end, he decided that he’d have to ask everyone to join him at the Hearth and Home event. There would be plenty of food available. They could have dinner there and discuss the case while observing the actors.

  James left the twins munching on conversation hearts and discussing whether they should purchase a small treasure chest to house the key at home. He stepped back to the break room to call Gillian.

  “What time does it start?” she asked.

  “I looked it up online last night. It’s from three until eight at the Cardinal’s Rest Harvest Church fellowship hall. That’s that nondenominational church outside of town.”

  “I went to a spiritual retreat there once. So enlightening. That hall is huge. Let’s see, Lucy is working the events, so she’ll already be there. Bennett tries to finish his route early on Fridays. He should be done around three. Although the kids leave earlier, Lindy stays at the school until five, but she might be able to leave early. I’ll call her. Buddha knows I have no business at the Yuppie Puppy.”

  “Too cold for dogs to be out,” James said, unconsciously parroting Ace’s words.

  “I make sure all the dogs I groom are dried thoroughly, but lots of folks don’t want to drive their pups anywhere in below-freezing temperatures. Plus, we’re supposed to get that big snowstorm any minute.”

  James scoffed. “I wouldn’t hold your breath. It ain’t over until the hound howls.”

  “What are you talking about, James?”

  “Pop’s neighbor has a hound that always predicts when it’s going to snow.”

  Gillian laughed. “Probably more accurate than that Jim Topling meteorologist. I’ll call you back.”

  Chapter Eleven

  When James walked into the Cardinal’s Rest Harvest Church fellowship hall at a little past four thirty, he had to agree with Gillian that the place was huge. Blue streamers were strung from brass ceiling lights high above the beige-and-gold checkered floor. Dozens of round tables for eight were set up across the hall, although James didn’t think there were more than fifty people present. Delectable smells coming from his immediate right made him turn his head in that direction. A sign on a stand read Serving Begins at 5pm Sharp!

  Long tables held an array of food warmers, shiny chafing dishes, and square bread baskets covered with cloths, as well as plates, napkins, and cutlery. He saw a kitchen behind the setup. Along with a professional catering staff, Dolly bustled about wearing her “Kiss My Okra” apron. She transferred her famous hot biscuits into one of the bread baskets. James’s mouth watered as he thought about their flaky goodness.

  At a single table perpendicular to the others, Milla stood taking a cake out of a carrier and adding it to the rest of the cakes and other desserts.

  “James,” she cried when he walked over. “I didn’t know you were a fan of the Hearth and Home show.”

  “I watched it when I was young, but that’s not why I’m here,” he said, looking over the cakes. “You heard about the murder of Ray Edwards.”

  Milla nodded and lowered her voice. “Yes, dear. Your father and I hear that Murphy Alistair is the prime suspect. That can’t be true, can it?”

  “I’m afraid it is. I don’t think she murdered him though. I want to question the actors. They’re the only other people who were staying at the Red Bird besides Murphy and Edwards. They might have seen or heard something.”

  “Another of your investigations, dear! Murphy is lucky to have you on her side. Are your friends helping again?”

  “Yes. They’re supposed to meet me here so I can fill them in on what I know.”

  Milla tilted her head toward the merchandise table. “See that woman with the permed gray hair in the hot pink tracksuit?”

  James glanced down the hall. “Yes. She was at the reception last night at the Red Bird.”

  “Give her a wide berth. Her name is Joy Carmichael. She’s the president of the Hearth and Home fan club and the organizer of the event. When I got here, she told me that I’d have to find another table for my cakes. This one,” she said, indicating a table a few feet away, “is, in her words, ‘for the official dessert of the Home and Hearth reunion, banana bread.’ You might remember that the mother on the show always served it when the family played Monopoly at the end of each episode.”

  “That’s odd. I’ve never thought of banana bread as a dessert. It’s a bread.”

  “She can call it whatever she wants, but it was her commanding, patronizing tone that I took exception to.”

  “I can’t blame you. Who knows better about desserts than the owner of Quincy’s Whimsies?”

  Milla chuckled. “Aww, you are a dear boy and I love you so. Watch yourself when it comes to Joy Carmichael. She seems very protective of the cast. Almost like they belong to her. At least, that’s been my observation.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I guess she won’t make questioning them easy. Oh, look. I think I see Bennett and Gillian sitting next to that table marked Reserved. I need to go. But can you tell me what kind of cakes these are first? I’ll be coming through the food line when it opens and want to know what to look forward to.”

  “Of course. Let’s see, this is a caramel cream cake, over here is a chocolate red velvet cake with white icing, and that one is a lemon cheese layer cake.”

  Each cake was decorated with flowers of complementing colors. James hoped he wasn’t drooling. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Milla’s sweet laughter followed him as James walked around the tables. He noted they were decorated in pale blue plastic tablecloths with cute white geese marching down the sides. James recognized the color and design as the one the Lewis family had on the Home and Hearth show.

  Halfway down the left side of the hall, dividers had been set up with folding chairs facing a large-screen TV. Several people sat watching an episode of Hearth and Home. A wooden stage, empty at the moment, was farther along on the left wall. Midway up the walls were two wide screens projecting images of the cast. On one side, the actors appeared as they had on the show, on the other, their modern-day selves smiled out at the fans.

  James saw that, at the far end of the room, in a roped-off area, a rectangular table had been set up in front of three large windows and two doors that led to the outside. Here, the cast members of Hearth and Home sat greeting their fans and signing autographs. A long banner above them had the show’s tagline: All Because Two People Fell in Love. Lucy and Sullie stood guard at either end of the table. Sullie had positioned himself by Amber Ross. James frowned as he saw that the deputy couldn’t take his eyes off the makeup guru. Lucy looked like she could spit nails.

  He saw Joy Carmichael shaking her finger at an older couple. She pointed to a sign near the autograph tables that read Tonight’s Autograph Session for Friends of Hearth and Home Only!

  The older couple turned and walked away, disappointment clear on their faces.

  “James!”

  Bennett motioned him over. James pulled out a chair next to Bennett and sat down. “Hey, Bennett. Gillian, you were right; this place is huge.”

  Gillian wore a turquoise sweater with a turquoise and lavender swirled scarf that matched her skirt. Under the lights of the hall, James noticed that her eyelids sparkled with lavender eyeshadow. James had come to respect Gillian’s artistic side, which carried over to the way she dressed and presented herself. He loved his friend’s sense of style and her warm and caring heart.

  “Makes the fact that the turnout isn’t great all the more obvious,” Gillian said.

  “It’s that Jim Topling and his scaremongering snow predictions,” Bennett said. “That man has me wondering how my mail truck is gonna make it through three-foot snow drifts.”

  “Snow is Mother Earth’s way of showing the land in a pristine condition,” Gillian said.

  “That’s fine as long as I don’t have to drive in it,” Bennett said. “Quincy’s Gap isn’t prepared for those severe conditions. Not enough salt for the roads, not enough plows or crew to drive them.”

&
nbsp; James had to agree. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as Topling makes out. His employment depends on ratings, doesn’t it? Like Bennett said, Topling’s trying to scare everyone so that they watch his updates. I did think there’d be more people here tonight.”

  “Tomorrow is Saturday. Maybe people are waiting until then. They’ll have the day off work,” Gillian suggested. “Listen, James, about the murder. Before you fill us in, I’ve thought of something. Oh, wait a minute, I see Lindy.”

  Lindy pulled the chair next to Gillian out and dropped into it, her shiny black hair flying. “Are they serving alcohol?”

  Gillian put an arm around her. “I don’t think so. What is it? When I talked to you on the phone, you said you wouldn’t be able to be away from home during supper two nights in a row.”

  “Luis and I had a fight. A big one. I’m not cooking for him tonight. Let his mother do it.”

  James looked at his friend with concern. Lindy was the cheerleader of their group. She was the type of person who rarely lost her temper. “Is Alma going back to Mexico anytime soon?”

  “Yes, she is, if Luis wants to stay married to me! Last night, I was late getting home,” she said to Bennett and Gillian, “because I was at the library talking to James about a program to get my students reading.”

  Gillian nodded and rubbed Lindy’s shoulder.

  “Well! I come in the door and Alma is cooking a huge, traditional Mexican meal. Homemade tortillas, carne asada, rice, beans, she’s making guacamole, everything Luis loves. Pots and pans are everywhere. Food all over the counters. And you know what she says to me?”

  James, Gillian, and Bennett shook their heads.

  “‘A wife who doesn’t cook for her husband soon finds he looks for food elsewhere,’ that’s what she said. And she did not mean Burger King! No, it was a warning.”

  Bennett said, “A man’s stomach does have to be taken—ouch! Why’d you kick me, woman?”

  “What happened then?” Gillian asked, ignoring her sweetheart.

  “I found Luis in the den reading the newspaper. I told him that by the end of the day tomorrow, that is, today, he had better have a plane ticket for Alma and a plan to get her on board or else I was going to take a medical leave from school and go visit my parents in Washington. For an indefinite period of time.”