When Beef Jerky Met Cherries Jubilee

by Lee Pulaski

  “You know, I’m starting to think you moved in here only to use me a sex object.” Newell was standing in the doorway, wearing his red, plaid bathrobe and a smile.

  Zachary glanced at Newell and chuckled. “You’re wearing a robe. I guess you’re not interested in seducing me tonight.”

  “And give Alexander another opportunity to taunt you at work tomorrow? I don’t want to leave you open for ribbing.” Newell pulled up a chair next to Zachary.

  “I should just whistle at random times to confuse the hell out of him. I don’t know why he was so amazed that we actually had sex! After all, we’re living together, and we love each other.”

  Newell threw Zachary a sly smirk. “You could be impotent.”

  Zachary slugged Newell in the shoulder. “Excuse me? Why would I have to be the impotent one? It’s a well-known fact that muscly and masculine men are just as likely to have troubles getting it up than book nerds.”

  Newell gingerly rubbed his shoulder. “Not me. I’m known far and wide for providing complete satisfaction to men.”

  “And you do it in thirty seconds or less, or it’s free.”

  Newell’s jaw dropped. “Zachary Gagewood! I cannot believe you just said that!”

  “You had it coming, cowboy. You implied I was impotent. Vengeance had to be exacted.”

  “Just for that, I’m going back upstairs and putting on my chastity belt.”

  “Wear the one with the sequins and rhinestones. I think you look so adorable.” Zachary looked at Newell’s perturbed expression and snickered. “Sorry. That one I spit out just for fun.”

  “So what needle are you looking for, and how many haystacks does this make?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what connection the Reimers could have with Remy Pierre. I’ve looked through everything I could think of online, and there’s no indication Pierre Consolidated ever made a deal, offered a deal or even held a conference call with Osgood and Muriel.”

  “Ah, yes. Because secret deals are always easily accessible at let’s-tell-the-world-our-hinky-business-dot-com.”

  Zachary pursed his lips. “Wow. I guess you really are pissed I wasn’t in bed snuggling.”

  “I mean that you’re not going to find evidence of a signed contract on Instagram.”

  “I know, but I was just hoping for some glimmer of a connection. Hell, I don’t expect a PDF of Remy Pierre’s plans for global domination to be downloaded to my desktop, but I thought a photograph or a newspaper clipping or something showing the missing link.”

  “I take it from your still being at this desk that you haven’t found the missing link.”

  “I’m already starting in a hole on account that Remy Pierre apparently has no face.”

  Newell did a double take. “I missed something there. Could you run that by me again?”

  Zachary brought up Pierre Consolidated’s website and clicked on the staff page. “All of the other higher-ups have photos with their names—the CFO, the director of acquisition, even Remy’s receptionist. You see Remy’s name, and nothing. No idea what he looks like.”

  “I wonder if that’s intentional. Think about it for a moment. If I’m a man that likes making big money deals, I don’t necessarily want to do it in a world where everybody has cell phone cameras and hidden microphones. I’d want to be as anonymous so that, if I’m walking across the street to go to a meeting, someone doesn’t point at me and say to a friend, ‘Hey, that’s Remy Pierre. Looks like he’s off to wipe another mom-and-pop shop from the face of the planet.’”

  “So Remy Pierre could be anyone. Even a woman, perhaps.”

  “What are you thinking? That Sigrid is leading a double life?”

  “That would be wild—if it was true. It’s one of a dozen things that I can’t figure out. Nobody could find out anything about Pierre Consolidated in the last few days, and then I find this website. It’s like it magically appeared out of the ether.”

  Newell sat in the chair next to Zachary’s desk. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Zachary took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. “Find me the missing pieces in this puzzle.”

  “You know, I think you might have something there.” Newell hurried out of the room.

  Zachary sat and stared at the doorway. Maybe his lover was suffering from fatigue and was just needing to go back to bed. Then Toby trotted in with a whine, like something was amiss. As Zachary scratched the ears of his faithful dog, Newell returned with a folded newspaper.

  “Oh, sweetheart. Are you going to make me a hat for when the next cold snap hits?”

  “You’re really hilarious, honey. No, I figured getting your attention on a different puzzle might help the solution to your current mystery find its way to the surface.” Newell plunked the newspaper on the desk, with the crossword facing up.

  “Newell, I’ve never really been one for crosswords.”

  Newell raised an eyebrow. “Really? Most of the well-read people I know do the crosswords.”

  “Are you saying I’m not well-read?”

  “I’m saying try it. You’ll like it.” Newell handed Zachary a pen. “I don’t think I ever realized how argumentative and sarcastic you are once the witching hour passes.”

  Zachary sighed. “That’s usually why I try to be asleep at this hour instead of surfing the web and sorting through family records and scrapbooks trying to figure out who is sick enough to kill one of the county’s most beloved couples.”

  “Add to that the fact that there is some development company from God knows where mixed up with this somehow, and it’s a small miracle you’ve had any sleep in the last week.”

  Zachary stood up and stretched. “If it was just the Reimers who’d been killed, I’d probably be ready to throw in the towel at this point. However, Miles La Rouche is dead, too. A separate killing, which means it’s entirely feasible that the killer could go after someone else.”

  “Not to throw salt on a wound, but are you sure none of your employees could be a killer?”

  Zachary rolled his eyes but knew Newell had a valid point, considering Gwendolen’s predecessor had been a deranged girl who murdered a man that delighted children everywhere as a seven-foot teddy bear. “Don’t worry. I did a thorough background check on Gwendolen before I hired her. She has no issues with our agricultural producers and no homicidal tendencies.”

  “Maybe Jacob Malueg has decided to take a hands-on approach to ruining Gresham and is killing people himself.” Newell snapped his fingers. “Maybe another deranged drag queen has blown into town like a Texas tornado!”

  “Honey, if you’re not going to be helpful, then you should go back to bed.”

  “How can I, knowing you’re out here hot on the trail of a killer?”

  “If I was hot on the trail, you’d hear sirens right now, because I’d have found the person and called the cops. Instead, I’m sitting here on a cold winter’s night with a bunch of gobbledygook.”

  “Not to mention your loving boyfriend.” Newell rifled through some folders. “Did you ever find anything on that strange cousin of Rose’s? Seems rather interesting how he materialized out of nowhere and was so interested in the farm after being absent when chores needed to be done, so to speak.”

  Zachary returned to his seat. “Rose has some dirt on this guy, but she doesn’t seem willing to divulge, even if it’s not related to her grandparents’ murders.”

  “Even if Perry knocked off Beef Jerky and Cherries Jubilee, I can’t picture him going after Miles La Rouche for any particular reason. He doesn’t seem like the type who’d kill a store owner because of a rotten piece of meat from the deli.”

  “Oh, great. You mentioning beef jerky and cherries jubilee made me hungry. Want to join me on a late-night raid of the refrigerator?”

  “Sure. Being witty makes me hungry.”

  Newell and Zachary walked into the kitchen, and when Newell flipped on the light, a meow could be heard from on top of the refrigerator. Midnight poke
d his ebony head into view. He’d obviously been exploring. Zachary scratched his kitty behind the ears before opening the fridge to see what he could nosh on. There were some teriyaki chicken wings, sliced roast beef for sandwiches, half of a cherry pie and a dozen hardboiled eggs.

  Newell and Zachary looked at each other and smiled, knowing the decision wasn’t difficult. “Let’s have it all,” they said at the same time.

  In less than five minutes, the two guys were diving into the leftovers, passing dishes and laughing in between mouthfuls of food. It felt good to take a break, and while the unknown was still waiting out there, not focusing solely on it helped to cleanse Zachary’s mind.

  “Hey, Newell. What do you think about getting some more chickens in the spring? If we get some hens, we can produce our own eggs.”

  “What made you think about that at this hour?”

  Zachary cracked the shell on one of the hard-boiled eggs. “I don’t know. Something to get my mind off of things. With the price of eggs currently, it seemed like a prudent thing to do.”

  “Sure. It’s something I can look into. Usually get chicks in the feed store around March or April. When that happens, I’ll bring a couple dozen home. We’ll need to build an incubator, though, unless you want little chicks scampering through the house.”

  “Sounds like a good weekend project. Next weekend, maybe? I can have Alexander and Gwendolen run the shop on Saturday.”

  “Deal. It’ll be nice, the two of us working on a project. You with the bookstore and me with the feed store, it doesn’t give us many options to work together on things.”

  Zachary smiled. “Newell, we can make the time to work together on stuff. It’s just a matter of us still trying to figure each other out. Sure, we’ve known each other almost a year and a half, but we’ve only lived together a couple of months. We’re not going to size each other up overnight.”

  “Really? I thought that was your job—the non-paying one, that is.”

  “I’m not always right. Heck, I never dreamed Granny Apple could be a murderer, or my best friend would run out of town once he found out he had HIV. Of course, you so eloquently pointed out a while ago that I screwed up when I hired a fruitcake for a clerk this past summer.”

  “I’m sorry.” Newell put his arm around Zachary. “I was just worried that history might be repeating itself, but we could finally put the big mystery of who killed Beef Jerky and Cherries Jubilee to rest.”

  “Believe me, I’d love nothing better than to hand the dastardly mastermind over to the sheriff’s department and get back to the quiet life of books and booty-licious boyfriends.”

  Newell grinned. “Not to mention building chicken incubators.”

  “Oh, how could I forget? It’s just nice to have someone to share life with, someone who will make me feel better when I’m down and isn’t so high maintenance that I want to trade him in for a toaster. It might sound silly, I know, but…”

  Newell kissed Zachary on the cheek. “Not at all. I’ve been circling life for a while trying to find a person with the same qualities you described. You’ve been a real gentleman, Zach, and that’s not easy to find when it comes to gay men. How many guys have you dealt with who wanted sex right away or were so self-absorbed with beauty that they failed to see that love conquers all?”

  “Too many. In fact, it seems like a jumble.”

  Newell snapped his fingers. “I should have given you a word jumble to work on.”

  “You’re seriously not going to let the crossword thing go, are you?”

  Newell flashed a mischievous look. “Not unless you make me. What do you say to that?”

  “You know what I say? I say…” The light bulb suddenly clicked on in Zachary’s head. “I say go in the bedroom and grab the crossword puzzle.”

  Newell looked confused but did as he was told. Once Zachary got his hands on the newspaper, he refolded it so the front page was facing up, specifically the story about Remy R. Pierre. He wrote the name in the margin of the paper, and then he started rearranging the letters. When he finished, he showed it to Newell.

  Newell’s eyes widened. “No way,” he said with heavy breath.

  Zachary nodded. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

  “Talk about hiding in plain sight.” Newell snapped his fingers again. “I can’t believe we both forgot this.”

  Zachary looked at Newell like he had a screw loose. “What are you talking about?”

  “The night of the reception, remember when the Reimer family squabble was going on, and Sajen told Osgood that some people knew he was a foolish old man who almost lost his farm and business to some conglomerate? Do you think he was talking about Remy Pierre’s company?”

  “Now we know who Remy really is, and how much you want to bet he’s also our murderer?”

  Zachary felt the heat slowly filling the cab of his Jeep. With temperatures remaining below freezing, it was usually necessary to let vehicles warm up for fifteen minutes minimum. The thermometer read seven below zero when Zachary had stepped outside, so he was giving his horseless carriage a little extra time to come to life.

  “Below zero temperatures are expected to continue for the next few days,” the radio announcer said in a depressing tone, “so be sure to bundle up warmly when you go to work and school.”

  Zachary wanted to exclaim “Duh!” at the announcer’s obvious revelation, but then he realized there were some people out there that were too stupid to realize you needed to put on a winter coat and hat when the mercury dropped below a certain mark on the thermometer.

  He sat back and closed his eyes for a moment. There were a few important things he needed to take care of today. The top one on the list was a trip out to the Reimer homestead to have a little chat with Sajen. How much did he know about the Reimer family business already, and was the same company that was looking to cash in on the grocery store and art gallery trying to branch out into specialized food sales and farm production? Zachary intended to find out before paying Joshua a visit and telling the detective who he believed Remy Pierre was in real life.

  Zachary’s eyes popped open when the passenger door to the Jeep opened, and Newell climbed in. “Dozing off, cutie? Would you rather I drive?”

  “No. Just organizing my to-do list for the day. Newell, I thought we were taking separate vehicles, since I was going to be heading out to the Reimer homestead first.”

  “You seriously expect me to let you head out there alone, knowing what I know now? You’re either going to get decked or shot if you don’t have someone watching your back.”

  “Sweetie, I love that you’re so protective of me, but Sajen has proven to be pretty harmless.”

  “He stole your snowmobile and eluded a lynch mob for several days. I think the only thing he’s proven is that he’s unpredictable. For all we know, Sajen and our faux Remy are in cahoots.”

  Zachary grinned at Newell’s use of the word “cahoots.” “Do folks use that word anymore?”

  “They should. It’s a damn good word. Sounds more elegant than ‘conspiracy’ or the phrase ‘strange bedfellows.’”

  “Strange bedfellows? You’ve been sneaking glances at my dictionary, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, Zach. That’s what turns me on about you—the size of your dictionary,” Newell said sarcastically.

  “Okay, Mister Snippy. If you’re going to be throwing me attitude, I’ll just duct tape your mouth for the drive out to the homestead.”

  “So you’re taking me with you?”

  Zachary sighed. “Even if I were mean and booted you out, you’d still hop in your truck and follow me out there like some obsessed stalker. I might as well take you with me, and if you’re really, really good, I might let you pet the moo cows.”

  Newell shot Zachary a dirty glance. “Moo cows? What am I? Seven?”

  “I’ve always found you to be a ten.” Zachary kissed Newell before he could come up with a clever retort. “All right, if you’re ready to rol
l, then let’s go pay the expecting parents a visit. I want to find out how much Sajen and Rose actually know about Remy Pierre and any attempts to cheat Osgood and Muriel out of their lifelong dream.”

  Zachary put the Jeep into drive and drove out the main gate to the farm. He was eager to get some answers. He was also eager to have warmer days again. The chill of the outside still managed to filter into the heated cab of the Jeep. While winter always started out as beautiful and refreshing, it tended to lose its appeal after a couple of months, and folks were begging for green leaves and warm breezes. The piles of snow were depressing once they reached a couple of feet.

  Newell broke the silence. “Have you had a chance to catch up with Chad and figure out when we can have him and Allison over for dinner?”

  “No, not yet. You’d think I was asking him to attend his own execution the way he’s been avoiding the dinner. I’ve got to figure out how to reconnect with him again. Just being the goofy, fun-loving uncle is no longer enough to tie us together apparently.”

  “Kids grow up, and sometimes family members put some distance between themselves and others they love. The kid loves you, though, so it’s not like you’re never going to see him again.”

  “You know, you don’t talk much about the people in your family. Is it tough being up here in Wisconsin while most of your family is in Texas?”

  Newell cleared his throat. “My family isn’t as close with me as yours is with you. That call I got from my brother the other night was a rarity. Don’t get me wrong; I love them all. It’s just I never had any nieces or nephews hanging around my job. In fact, most of my interactions with other members of my family were at holidays and an occasional picnic in the summer.”