Glazed

by Deany Ray

  That night no rich smells were there to greet me, just a family sitting quietly around the dinner table. My dad and Brad looked defeated. I was almost afraid to look at what there was to eat. My mother had set out a bowl of fruit along with spinach, carrots and green beans. The centerpiece of the spread was a slimy brownish glob. It appeared that only one brave soul had dared to try a spoonful (my mother, I was sure).

  “Hey! Sorry I’m late,” I said as I took my seat. I couldn’t look away from the weird, brown clumps in the antique dish that had been handed down by my grandma. A perfect ending to a perfect day, I thought. Mysteries were for work, not for the dinner plate.

  “Sweetheart, you look exhausted,” my father said. “You’re working way too hard.”

  “Yes! You shouldn’t stress so much,” my mother said, scooping way too much brown glob onto my plate. “If a computer doesn’t get fixed, it can get fixed another day.”

  “Mom, that’s way too much,” I said, pulling my plate away. I tried for a cheery voice. I knew she’d worked hard on the dinner. “I need to save room for my green beans!” I said, speaking a line that I never, ever thought I’d say. Ever.

  “That’s so great. All the vegetables are fresh!” my mother told me, beaming. She nodded toward the brown goo. “And this, I’m proud to say, is my own creation: tofu in peanut sauce.”

  “Well.” What could I say to that? “Who would have ever thought that those things went together?” I asked her brightly as I spooned up some spinach.

  I glanced toward the left side of the table, where the wine bottles usually sat, uncorked. That spot was empty now, except for a vase of flowers from my mother’s garden. Hmm. If she had suddenly decided to stop serving wine, it should not be on the same day she decided that peanut sauce went well with tofu.

  She saw where I was looking and jumped up to fill my glass. “Let me pour you some artisanal water with just a touch of lemon! So cool and refreshing,” she said. She glanced toward my brother’s glass. “Artisanal water, Brad?”

  He frowned. “Just from the faucet’s fine,” he said, although he didn’t look like anything was fine.

  I spooned up some vegetables and tried to hide some of the brown goo underneath my beans. As my mother poured the water, I felt some pressure against my hand underneath the table. Brad shot me a meaningful look as he snuck me a candy bar and my dad gave me a wink.

  “Barbara, this is fabulous,” my dad said. “The tofu’s excellent.” He hadn’t tried the tofu yet.

  “The carrots are from my garden,” my mother said, returning to the table with our glasses. She looked absolutely thrilled, in sharp contrast to my dad and brother.

  I tried a carrot. Sweet and crunchy, not too bad. Still, my mind was on the candy. I had to admit, Brad did good on this one.

  I ate the smallest bit of tofu, which tasted like it looked. The peanut sauce was not bad – if I could just lose the tofu. Then I moved some around my plate to make it look like I had eaten more.

  “Mom, this was excellent,” I said. “I wish I was hungrier, but this has been the worst day. I think I’ll head up early and go to bed.”

  She beamed. “I can pack you up a plate for your lunch tomorrow. I’ll send some for Marge and Celeste too!”

  “Oh.” I was lost for words. “They’d…be thrilled, I’m sure.”

  I stood up slowly, slipping my candy in my pocket. “See you all tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow’s dinner will be special,” my mother said. “I can hardly wait until you see what I’ve planned. It’s a big surprise!”

  “I’ll be sure to save some room,” I told her, smiling.

  I would eat a big lunch, I thought. I could bring some candy home and sneak a few to my brother. At least I had a plan.

  Chapter Six

  The next morning as I opened the front door of the office, I admired our new (much smaller!) sign. You want a teeny-tiny sign when it announces to the world that you’re technology consultants, when in reality you’ve never met a laptop that did not at some point make you want to scream. We had to have a front, but this one had been a big mistake. I was always at a loss when my own computer misbehaved, and Marge and Celeste didn’t know much more than I.

  I could turn mine on and send an email or Google recipes for desserts or what was playing at the movies. That was about the extent of my “expertise.” We, of course, didn’t advertise as technology consultants, but it wasn’t unheard of that some poor soul would wander in with a malfunctioning machine. Then we’d have to scramble to get rid of them instead of helping them. We’d pretend to be too busy to get to their job before they’d need to have their all-important laptop back in their hands and working. Most of the time that worked. Marge had equipped the office with old laptops that posed as “our patients” to make us look legit.

  Speaking of my partner, she was right behind me. “Hey, hon!” she called out, breathless. I turned around to see her rushing toward me with a large plate in her arms. I held the door open for her.

  “I brought us all some breakfast since things have gotten crazy,” she said, setting the foil-covered bundle on a table by the door.

  Celeste eyed the plate, too.

  Marge pulled off the foil. “Ta da! I made some muffins. I made some for Lucas too.”

  I looked at them eagerly. There were strawberry ones and blueberry, huge and fluffy looking. Beside them she’d placed some napkins decorated with bright daisies. Whoopsie-Daisy. Don’t forget the snacks, they said.

  “Have I told you, you’re the best?” I asked, taking the biggest strawberry muffin on the plate.

  “Well, somebody’s hungry,” Marge said.

  “How did you know? Did you know my mother’s on a kick to starve me half to death?”

  “Do what?” Marge stared at me confused.

  “She’s into healthy eating lately,” I explained. “Which I’ve heard can be delicious. But so far, it’s been horrific. I think she needs new recipes.”

  “Ugh. That doesn’t sound too good,” Marge said.

  “It’s not,” I said, while taking a huge bite of the muffin.

  Marge smiled. “Well, I’m glad that I can help.”

  “Faaaank youu!” The muffin was divine.

  Celeste got up from her desk and took a blueberry muffin and a napkin. “I always say the best friends are the ones who know exactly what you need, without you telling it to them,” she said. “Marge is almost as good with an oven as she is with a gun.”

  “This is amazing,” I told Marge, speaking around my last bite and savoring the sugary, butter-filled goodness on my tongue. Then I turned to Celeste. “Have you talked to Lucas this morning?”

  “Just a little while ago,” she said, “and he’s doing fine. In fact, he might just be the best looked-after kid in Springston at the moment. The family’s in on it as well, keeping an eye on him, although I tried to tell them no, to just back off for a bit. Every cop in Springston is all over this one, and my family and the cops aren’t exactly BFFs. They don’t have a history of playing on the same team, if you get my drift.”

  I grabbed another muffin. “What egshakly ish your family doing about Lucash?” I asked through a mouthful of blueberry bliss.

  “They’ve got someone on site to keep a good eye on the place,” she said, wiping a crumb off of my blouse.

  “I think that’s good!” Marge said. “The more eyes on him, the better. I was so worried about him last night, I could barely sleep. That’s why I got up and made some muffins.” She looked down at them sadly. “The boy is just so young.”

  “Well, someone would have a hard time getting in there now to mess with Lucas,” Celeste said. “Everyone around here knows you don’t mess with an Ortiz. Plus, Bert had his patrol cars driving by all throughout the night.”

  She walked over to the coffee pot and poured some into the oversized purple mug that she kept at the office. “My family put my cousin on the case, which does not make me happy,” she said with a frown. “But it is
what is.”

  “Your cousin is on the case, too?” I asked. “Like…with us?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Celeste answered dryly.

  “How come?” I asked as I headed for the coffeepot. Caffeine, sweet caffeine. “What’s wrong with the cousin?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge of that,” she said. “About him and all the others. The whole family wants to have us over. I’m not thrilled with the idea of mixing friends and crazy family, but this time they wore me down. Celeste! they said. Come and bring your friends! Let’s have a barbecue. They’re not too happy with this Lucas thing, and they want to meet you since, as far as they’re concerned, we’re all on one team. We’re all on Team Lucas.”

  Well. The mysterious Ortiz clan in the flesh. This could be interesting. Their exploits were famous in our town – colorful and sometimes violent. Mainly, what you heard were rumors; they had a talent for secrecy as well as for getting what they wanted, no matter what it took. At least, that’s what I’d heard.

  “I’m in,” I said as I poured coffee in my mug. Chances were very slim they’d be barbecuing tofu. That made me very happy.

  “Are you both free tomorrow?” Celeste asked. “They’re not into waiting when they make a plan. I say let’s just do it, get it over with.”

  “I’d love to go,” Marge squeaked. “Can I bring dessert?”

  “Oh, they’ve got it handled,” Celeste said. “We’ll all eat like kings.”

  That sounded perfect to me.

  “Just let me know what time,” I said.

  I poured sugar in my mug, longing to be the kind of girl whose answer always was ‘Oh, I love to come, but I promised some friends that I’d stop by’ or ‘I really wish I could, but I’ve got a date. For that new Italian restaurant, and this guy is a looker. You guys wish me luck.’

  “Okay, I’ll set it up.” Celeste sighed.

  She sat down at her desk and opened a small notebook. “Now for a subject change. Here’s what I’m thinking for today. Let’s drive by the dead guy’s place and see what we can find out. I’m also thinking of stopping by the doughnut shop since Lucas thought the two guys with the trash bag might have come from there.” She paused, lost in thought. “I was watching the employees that the police were talking to yesterday. None of them looked guilty or like they were hiding information. I’ve learned to recognize that look.”

  She was good at reading people. Not much got past Celeste.

  “But maybe I’ve lost my touch, so we should investigate that doughnut shop more thoroughly,” she said.

  Marge walked toward the supply shelf that was set up in the corner. “Oooh, we’ll need the tape recorder. And I’ll grab the binoculars, too.” She studied the supplies, a small smile on her face. We kept most supplies closed up in boxes since they would look out of place in an office that supposedly specialized in technological repairs.

  Marge filled her flowered purse. “Oh, we need this too,” she said, grabbing an extra notebook. She made me think of a kid in the last days of summer break, looking for the pencils and the lunchbox that had just the right pizazz, eager for a brand-new start. She always loved the beginning of a new case.

  As always, she would make sure her Persuader was tucked nicely into her purse. That’s what she called her gun, and persuade it did. That thing talked and people listened.

  I took one last sip of coffee before I rinsed my mug.

  That’s when the door flew open and I saw a tall man stride into the room. He had a full head of jet-black, wavy hair and dark eyes that seemed to sparkle with amusement. With lots of muscles and an easy smile, this guy was looking good. Like lots of gorgeous guys, he absolutely knew it; I could tell by the way he walked in as if he owned the room. Nice, but not my type. I didn’t go for cocky.

  I was glad to see, at least, that he didn’t have a laptop that he needed us to “fix.”

  “Hello, hello!” he said and flashed the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.

  Celeste stood and gave the man a hug. “Well, will you take a look at what the wind has blown in through the door? How’s it going, Eddy?”

  Marge walked up next to me and spoke softly in my ear. “Oh my. Check out the arms on that one.”

  “Back off, girl,” I whispered. “Don’t get too excited. We have no idea who he is.”

  Please don’t let it be the cousin. Please don’t let it be the cousin.

  The man turned to us and he stared at me boldly, taking me in from top to bottom.

  “Who is this buttercup?” he asked.

  Yeah, this guy was a player.

  “Cut it out, Eddy,” Celeste said. “This is my partner, Charlie. She’s not one of your babes. And this is my other partner, Marge.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” Marge squeaked. The introduction sent her into a fit of high-pitched giggles that seemed to startle even this lothario, who up to then had been the sultan of smoothness.

  “Yeah, same here,” I said halfheartedly.

  Celeste leaned back against a desk. “Girls, I’d like you to meet one of my million cousins. This one is Eduardo.”

  Damn it. It was the cousin.

  He leaned back beside her and crossed his muscled arms, his eyes still on me. “So, when’s the barbecue?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow afternoon?” Celeste asked, glancing at the two of us.

  We nodded, and his smile grew even bigger as he stared at me. “I’ll look forward to it, and I’d love to extend an invitation to the one with the glasses. She can attend the party as my date.”

  Party? Date? The one with the glasses? This guy had some nerve.

  I stared back and met his stare with a stare of my own. “Celeste invited me already, but thank you anyway, Eduardo.”

  “Call me Eddy,” he said, amused. “Eddy with a Y.”

  I could think of other names I would have loved to call him. This guy was a piece of work.

  He straightened up and rubbed his hands together. “Okay. I’m here to get a job done. Where should we begin?”

  “I’ve filled him in,” Celeste said, “on what we know so far.”

  “We thought we’d hit the victim’s house,” Marge said. “Then the doughnut shop. We think the guys who dumped the trash bag might have come out of the shop.”

  Eddy thought about it. “I imagine that will do.”

  What? He thought he was suddenly in charge? This might be a long day; I could tell this pretty boy would need to learn his place.

  He clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s get a move on, girls. I haven’t got all day.”

  Yikes. Presumptuous with a capital P.

  Ten minutes later, we were on the road, headed to Peter Clayton’s place. As always, Celeste rode up front and Marge was behind the wheel. I was stuck in the back seat with Eddy. I made sure to keep my distance. Which was challenging, since Marge’s jerky turns made it hard to stay nestled against the window.

  The guy was full of questions. How long had we been in business? How did we operate exactly? Was there some lucky guy who had the honor of taking me out on the town when the working day was through?

  “It’s complicated,” Marge said after some hesitation when I failed to respond.

  That answer seemed to work for everything he’d asked, but the way he stared at me made me think that there was just one question on his mind.

  “You ask too many questions,” Celeste told him. “You’ve always talked too much. Even as a little kid, you loved to run your mouth.”

  He gave me the once-over for a second time. “If you let me take you out,” he said, “it won’t be complicated.”

  “I respectfully disagree,” I said, giving him my best non-flirtatious look.

  Celeste shut him down. “N and O means no. Believe it or not, Eduardo, not every girl in the whole world is bowled over with your charm.”

  His answer was a wink, and I found something out the window to stare intently at until we got to Clayton’s place. I was so, so ready to escape that car. The cousin�
��s woodsy-scented cologne was suddenly overpowering, kind of like the man himself.

  We arrived on Clayton’s street, which was in a nice, middle-class neighborhood not too far from town. The road was lined with traditional-style brick homes and nicely kept, wide yards. A couple of tricycles sat in one driveway along with a plastic pool. Two women talked at a mailbox while one looked through her stack of mail. It didn’t seem like a place where one of the residents was likely to end up dead and thrown out beside a dumpster.

  “Let’s circle the block a couple of times,” I said, “and make sure no cops are watching.”

  This case was different than the others because the chief himself had put us on the job. Technically, he’d agreed to give us the case before there was a dead body involved. But he knows we won’t back down now. Not if it involves Lucas.

  When we worked for private customers, the police loved to shoo us off the crime scenes so they could do their job. Now, we were on the same team. Officially. Still, they might not like our more…let’s just say…creative ways of getting in and out of locked doors and finding information. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, and what we do is get the bad guys. Apparently, accompanied by an ego-inflated cousin this time.

  “I sure hope the coast is clear,” Celeste said, watching carefully out the window. “Finding a dead guy’s bad enough. I could really do without running into the boys in blue.”

  “Well, at least when the police get information, they’ll fill us in on what they know,” Marge said.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Celeste said. “Bert’s glad to have our help, but I’m sure he’d much prefer that his boys get the credit for getting the thing solved.”

  In the rearview mirror, I could see Marge squint in determination. “To that I say, Dream on, Bert,” she said. “CMC is on the case.” She slowed to look inside yards, at street corners, and even in the bushes. “In addition to the police, we need to keep an eye out for anyone who looks suspicious. The bad guys might be lurking too.”