The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  “Wow, you look great!” Milo smiled broadly at her as he walked up to the entrance of the restaurant, the dimple in his chin deepening. He’d changed, too, and his hair was still damp from a shower, curling in the cool evening air.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “Well, I usually only see you when you’re standing behind a counter. I can picture the headline for Sunday’s food feature now: ‘Breaking: Bethany Bradstreet has legs!’”

  She giggled in spite of herself. Olive was right—it has been a long time.

  “Let’s go in,” he said. “I haven’t had anything to eat today except your soup.” He held the door open for her. “It was great, by the way. I really enjoyed the ramps.”

  “At least you’re not allergic to my cooking.” She walked into the Home Plate and was met with the unmistakable, comforting aroma of burgers and fries. The cozy diner was furnished with worn leather booths and red tables, and the walls were lined with signed photographs from local celebrities and vintage baseball memorabilia. A flat-screen TV above the counter had a baseball game on, although the volume was blessedly low. It was not exactly a date spot—more like a place to meet up with friends.

  I really should have worn jeans.

  “Sit anywhere,” the woman behind the counter said, waving to booths on both sides of the room. “Ain’t hard to find you.”

  Milo slid into the nearest booth, and Bethany took the bench opposite him. It was so small that their knees touched underneath the table.

  “Sorry,” she said, and leaned her legs to the side so they wouldn’t brush against his.

  He put his elbows on the table and leaned his chin on his hands, his expression of frank enjoyment. “I genuinely don’t mind. Cute place, huh?”

  Bethany leaned back in her seat. “Let me guess. You come here with your buddies all the time.”

  “Bingo. I’m a regular. Let me tell you up front, get the onion rings.”

  The server slid two menus onto the table, but Bethany slid them back toward her. “We’ll have two cheeseburgers with onion rings, please. And Cokes.”

  Milo raised his eyebrows at her. “Nice. Classic choice.”

  The server giggled as she tucked the menus back into her apron pocket. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  “I hope you like cheese on your burger,” Bethany said in a conciliatory tone. “So you come here to watch the games, or what?”

  Milo nodded and stubbed a straw on the table until the wrapper peeled off. “We tried every dive bar and diner in town until we found Home Plate. It’s got everything you could want—cold drinks, thick burgers, and they only play MLB. That’s the last pre-season game, by the way. Next week, it’s going to be nuts in here. My whole softball team comes in to eat and watch the game after practice.”

  “You play in the co-ed league?”

  “Yup.”

  The waitress returned carrying two fizzing colas brimming with ice and set the glasses down in front of them. Bethany opened her own straw and plunged it between the ice cubes.

  “You know the cop, Charley Perez? She’s a friend of mine—she’s playing in that league, too.”

  Milo nodded, stirring his ice around in his glass. “She’s on my team, actually. We hang out a lot.”

  Bethany arched an eyebrow. “Really? Last time I checked, she seemed to really hate reporters!”

  “I think I won her over with my fastball. Plus, I’ve learned to stay out of her way when she’s detective mode.”

  Bethany chuckled. “She doesn’t like it when I get in the way of her investigations, either! The only reason she tolerates having me around is because she’s dating my best friend.”

  “Well, I don’t think she’s going to be very impressed that I skipped practice tonight, either. So we do have something in common.” He grinned back at her, and she felt her stomach do a flip. “Maybe she’ll tolerate me if I’m dating her girlfriend’s best friend.”

  Bethany blushed and peeled the wrapper off her own straw. “Well, you and I also have a love of food in common. And we both ride bicycles instead of having cars. I’d say we have a fair amount in common, and we’ve hardly gotten to know each other yet.” She realized she was babbling and stopped abruptly.

  He leaned forward as though he was going to tell her a secret. “We have something else in common,” he said in a low voice, as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear. He pulled out his notebook and flipped through a few pages. “We both seem to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the wrong place at the right time. What’s your take on what happened at the train station?”

  He slid a pen out of his breast pocket and waited there, with the nib poised above the paper.

  Bethany chewed her lip. Was his flirtation just so I’d let down my guard? She didn’t want another one of her thoughtless statements twisted around and quoted out of context again.

  “Is this a date or an interview?” She sat up and straightened her skirt under the table, taking care not to bump against his legs again. “I didn’t realize I was a suspect.”

  “Ah, sorry.” Milo dropped the pen and flipped the cover of the notebook closed. “Force of habit. Being perpetually curious is my job, so it’s hard not to ask probing questions all day, every day.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a little at his admission. “I’ll turn the question back on you, then. What do you think happened? Off the record.”

  “Honestly? I have no idea. Everyone was acting so strangely, but that’s likely due to the stress of the competition and some strong personalities butting heads. It’s probably nothing, but I’m taking notes anyway. Ned’s collapse will be colorful human interest for the food feature if it turns out to be benign, and if he was poisoned—well, I’ll have a head start on Robin. Might get the front page, and I’d love to see the look on her face if I scooped her on a crime story.”

  “I’d like to see that, too.” Bethany grinned. “I can’t say she’s my favorite person.”

  “See? More things in common.” Milo held his hand out for a fist bump.

  Ugh. Are we bros now? Bethany grudgingly knocked her knuckles against his. “Well, I hope you get the scoop, if there’s a scoop to be had.”

  “Caboose and I are on the case.”

  “How’s he settling in?”

  “He’s already made himself at home and completely covered my sofa with orange fur. Also, he follows me everywhere—is that normal?”

  Bethany chuckled. “That is sort of his thing, hence the name. He usually follows Ben on his hourly rounds at the station.”

  Milo leaned back in his seat as the server brought their food to the table. “Wow, that looks good!”

  Bethany admired her plate. Crisp, golden-brown onion rings spilled off one side onto the table. The burger was huge, decked out with melted cheese, heirloom tomatoes, and sunflower sprouts, all sandwiched inside a mountainous brioche bun. The bread looks great—they must get the buns from the Honor Roll.

  “You weren’t kidding that these are the best burgers in Newbridge!” Her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  “Wait until you taste it.”

  “I don’t know how to even approach a burger this size!” She picked up her knife and fork to saw off a manageable piece.

  “No, no, no! You can’t eat it with a fork! It’s all about the technique.” He picked up his burger and squeezed it flat so it’d fit into his mouth. He took a huge bite and winked at her over the top of his hamburger bun.

  She eyed the burger warily and did her best to compress it to a manageable thickness, suppressed any impulse she had to be ladylike, and took her first bite.

  Heaven. She closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized until that exact moment how totally ravenous she was. The anxiety and stress of the day had suppressed her appetite, but now it was unleashed. She popped an onion ring in her mouth. The delicate beer batter crumbled over her tongue, releasing the gentle sweetness of the onion, and she almost cried—it was that good.

  “
Why haven’t I been here before?!”

  “I guess you were waiting for me to take you.” Milo made eye contact and held it a little longer than necessary.

  Bethany’s stomach fluttered, and it wasn’t because of the food.

  Hm. This is shaping up to be a real date, after all.

  Chapter 5

  SATURDAY MORNING

  “DID YOU ALREADY USE the three-quart saucepan?” Kimmy asked, rummaging around in the bottom cupboard where they kept all the pots and pans.

  Bethany looked up from where she’d been scribbling calculations for quantities of spices. “Um, yeah. I think it’s in the sink.”

  Kimmy sighed. “I wish you’d clean up after yourself as you cook. Our kitchen is too small to leave piles of dirty dishes.”

  “Eek, I’m sorry! I just got distracted trying to figure out how to scale up this recipe. I’ll get it.” Bethany pushed back her stool and went to the sink. “What do you need it for?”

  “Boiling some salt pork. Why do you ask? Are you trying to steal my recipe?” Kimmy delivered the question in such a deadpan voice that Bethany had to look over and check if she was joking.

  When she saw Kimmy crack a smile, she relaxed. “Hm. I’m thinking your fancypants cassoulet is not chili, so I’m not too worried about the competition.”

  Kimmy clenched her teeth and muttered, “Don’t blame me. Monsieur Adrian said it had to be 100 percent French.”

  Bethany could tell Kimmy was stressed out, so she softened her teasing tone. “Hey. It’s going to be great. That guy does not deserve you. I can’t believe he’s asking you to cook the whole thing for him.” She held out the washed-and-dried saucepan.

  Kimmy took it, a resigned expression on her face. “Thanks. He says my job is on the line if I don’t do the cooking, because it’s Café Sabine’s reputation at stake.”

  “Well, you know Monsieur Adrian hasn’t cooked in probably twenty years! Not to mention, he’s probably never eaten chili. At least you can do something to give it a little spice.”

  Kimmy shook a wooden spoon at her. “I don’t need spice. I have duck fat!”

  “Just sayin’. If he wants your help, he should let you put your own spin on it.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Kimmy made a face and abruptly changed the topic. “Hey, you didn’t mention how your big D-A-T-E went last night! Did Milo like the dress?”

  Bethany buried her face in her recipe notes to hide her embarrassed grin. “Yes,” she said in a muffled voice. “He mentioned my legs specifically.”

  “Aw, yeah! Get it, Bethany!” Kimmy put the saucepan on the stove and clicked on the gas. “We should invite him over for dinner one of these nights.”

  Bethany lifted her head from her work. “I doubt it’s going anywhere. He took me to a sports bar kind of place. A diner, I guess. He said he goes there with the softball team. Then he asked me questions about the cook-off. It felt very buddy-buddy. I think maybe he agreed to the date because of the article he’s writing.”

  “I don’t know, those legs of yours are pretty cute.” Kimmy grinned over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove. “Have you figured out your recipe yet?”

  “I think so.” Bethany tapped her pencil against her paper. “I’m going for a Texas-style chili just to set myself apart from Garrett. I know he’s going to use beans in his. Plus, ground beef is just kinda boring, right? So I think I’ll use chuck steak. I just need to decide how spicy I’m going to make it.”

  A knock sounded at the door, and then Charley let herself in, letting the door bang closed behind her.

  “Bethanyyy!” she said, clapping loudly. “Nice job keeping our star player away from practice last night. Now we’re doomed for Monday’s game.” She plopped onto the barstool beside Bethany and nudged her with her elbow.

  Bethany rolled her eyes. “It was his idea to go out last night, not mine. Anyway, I thought you didn’t like reporters. You should be thanking me for keeping him away.”

  “Ah, the kid’s all right. He’s a good player. Level head and a scary-accurate fastball. Plus he’s a blast to hang out with after practice.”

  “Hello to you, too,” Kimmy said as she hovered over the pan, ensuring that her pancetta rendered evenly and her pork belly cooked to the perfect tenderness.

  “Aw, baby, I didn’t forget about you!” Charley hugged Kimmy from behind and planted a kiss in her hair. “What are you making? Can I taste?”

  “Nothing to taste yet,” Kimmy said. “I’m just getting started on my cassoulet.”

  “Your what?” Charley wrinkled her nose. “It sounds like a mashup of a casserole and an ashtray! Is that even a thing?”

  Kimmy stared at her. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

  “Well, I don’t know! I don’t speak French!”

  Kimmy rolled her eyes and turned back to the stove. “I don’t have time for this. I’m going to be cooking all day at this rate.”

  “Well, you have a head start on me.” Bethany stood up and pushed back her stool, eager to avoid stoking the argument between her two friends. “I still have to go get my ingredients. You want to come, Charley? I could use the company.”

  Charley shrugged. “OK. I’ll be your wing-shopper.”

  “Great—you’re driving.” Bethany pulled on her cardigan and grinned.

  Charley groaned. “I knew there was a reason you asked me!”

  They said goodbye to Kimmy and headed out of the cottage. Bethany was surprised to see Charley’s little red Mazda parked at the curb. Charley drove an unmarked police car when she was on duty, so the sporty little car was an unexpected reminder that she also had an identity outside of work.

  Charley kicked at some grass clippings along their concrete walkway. “What’s up with Kimmy this morning? She seemed...”

  “Tense?” Bethany finished. “I think she’s wound up about the cook-off. Monsieur Adrian is putting a lot of pressure on her to win it for him.”

  Charley unlocked the car and they both got in. The interior was spotless—Charley was a neat-freak when it came to her vehicles, and Bethany was careful to knock the mud and grass off her shoes before she swung her feet into the car.

  Charley put her key in the ignition and started up the car, then sat back, staring blankly out the windshield. “I just thought maybe it was—ah, never mind.”

  “What?” Bethany asked as she fastened her seatbelt.

  “Well, a few days ago, I asked her to move in with me.”

  Bethany felt a pang of worry. If Kimmy moves in with Charley, I’ll have to find a new roommate! But the two of them were in love—it’s not like she wanted to stop them from blissful cohabitation. She tried to keep her voice casual. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. But she said no.”

  “No? Like flat-out, never gonna happen?” Bethany stared at her in shock, but Charley avoided eye contact and just put the car in drive and pulled gently out from the curb.

  “Where we headed? Asking for a friend.”

  Bethany giggled. “The spice shop in Oldbridge. You know the one on Glasser Ave?”

  “Ugh, you didn’t tell me we have to go all the way across the bay!”

  Bethany poked Charley in the shoulder. “Hey. You’re avoiding my question. Did Kimmy really turn you down? Did she have any explanation for why?”

  Charley sighed as she drove toward the two-hundred-year-old bridge that connected the towns. “No. She said it’s not time yet.”

  “Did she say when it would be time? I mean, you guys have been dating almost a year, right? That’s not really rushing into things.”

  “She said when I get more serious—whatever that means.” Charley made a face.

  “Do you think she meant more serious about the relationship, or just more serious in general?”

  Charley shrugged. “Beats me. It’s just tough to spend time together with our work schedules both being so nuts, so I told her that living together would make it more convenient.”

  Bethany laughed. “S
o romantic!”

  “Was that the wrong approach?” Charley glanced at Bethany, and then quickly looked back at the road. They were in downtown Oldbridge now, the tree-lined streets winding and narrow.

  “Obviously—it didn’t work! Anyway, nobody wants to hear that they’re inconvenient to their partner.”

  Charley groaned. “That’s not what I meant!”

  “I know. But you have to admit, that’s how it comes off. Like, fast food is convenient. Kimmy is the opposite of fast food.”

  “Very true.” Charley was quiet for a minute. “So how do I get her back on my team?”

  Bethany sighed. “I think you just have to be patient. Kimmy’s trying so hard to keep everything together right now. Give her some time. Show her that you’re serious.”

  “Less joking around?” Charley made a face. “I don’t know if I can do that, to be honest.”

  “Turn here,” Bethany said, pointing. “The spice shop is just a couple blocks down.” She waited until Charley made the turn and then continued. “I don’t think Kimmy wants you to be a different person. I think she just wants you to be serious about your relationship.”

  “I am, I think. She’s my girlfriend, isn’t she? I wouldn’t suggest she move in if I wasn’t serious about her.” Charley growled with frustration as she parallel-parked the car in front of the spice shop.

  Bethany unclipped her seatbelt. “I don’t know what she meant, to be honest. Are you coming in or do you want to wait in the car?”

  “I’m coming. I can’t let you buy some weak chilis.” Charley grinned, but then her expression grew serious again. “Do me a favor and ask Kimmy what she wants? From me, I mean?”

  Bethany nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

  Charley smiled gratefully, and they got out of the car. The spice shop was a narrow storefront painted a deep teal blue, and the windows were decorated with swirls of gold. A hand-painted sign in the shop window read “Rue the Day.” A faint whiff of cinnamon escaped the door.

  “Mm.” Charley looked at Bethany, wide-eyed. “I think I’m going to like this place.”

  “It gets better.” Bethany pushed open the door and they were enveloped in a spicy aroma so comforting that it felt like a hug. A cluster of bells jangled as they entered.