Cast Iron Conviction (The Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries Book 2) (3 page)

Chapter 5: Annie

“W
hat was that all about?” I asked Pat as he walked back into the Iron. I’d watched his conversation with Albert Yeats from the front window, but I hadn’t wanted to interrupt them. We’d learned in our earlier investigation that sometimes folks felt as though we were ganging up on them when we approached them together. The push to act in unison was a hard one to fight at times, but the results were usually worth it.

“How much of it did you see?” Pat asked me guiltily. What did he have to feel awkward about? “Did you see the punch?”

“You hit him!” I asked incredulously. My brother hadn’t been in a fistfight since grade school.

“Keep your voice down,” Pat said as folks doing some last-minute shopping stared over at us. In a loud voice, he added, “I didn’t hit anyone, Annie.”

That seemed to mollify most of them. “Did Albert hit you?” I asked him, searching for some sign that he’d been struck.

“Ollie Wilson decked Albert Yeats.”

“What? Ollie? You must be mistaken.” Ollie was a gentle man if ever there was one. I couldn’t imagine him throwing a punch at anyone.

“I saw it myself. Whatever there is between the two of them is poisonous.”

“Ollie? Ollie Wilson? You’re sure?” I just couldn’t believe what I was hearing, even though I trusted my brother implicitly.

“It was actually kind of frightening seeing the look in Ollie’s eyes for a second there. Annie, I’m beginning to believe that Albert is innocent after all.”

“What? Why do you think that?” Pat and I had both done our best to give him the benefit of the doubt until he’d been tried and convicted, but it was hard to accept the fact that the so-called evidence presented at the trial hadn’t been true. I hoped they roasted that prosecuting attorney and put him in prison along with the folks he had helped send there!

“If he did it and somehow managed to get off on a technicality, would he come back to Maple Crest? His family’s all gone, and he didn’t have a great many friends here even before the trial. Why come back and stir things up? What does he gain by it? The only reason I can think of is if he’s truly innocent.”

Pat seemed convinced, but I wasn’t quite so sure myself yet. Sure, what he was saying made sense, but there was still a hint of doubt in the back of my mind. That wasn’t all, though. Pat had done something else that he was afraid to tell me. I wondered what it could possibly be, and then I realized what it had to be, not because of some kind of twin ESP, but because I knew my brother better than anyone else in the world. “You offered to help him investigate Mitchell’s murder, didn’t you?”

My brother looked at me with a shocked expression. “Annie, are you reading my mind? I thought that was just a twin myth.”

“Give me a little credit; it’s not that hard to figure out. Okay. I’ll help.”

Pat looked even more surprised by my declaration. “Seriously? I don’t have to persuade you?”

“Did you make the offer?” I asked him.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I know I should have talked to you first, but it just seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Pat, I know that you must have had your reasons. Have I ever let you down in the past? Right or wrong, I’ll do everything in my power to help you.”

“Thanks, Annie.” I knew without question that his gratitude was sincere. After a moment, Pat frowned, though, something that I hadn’t foreseen. “The truth of the matter is that he hasn’t exactly taken me up on my offer.”

“What? Seriously? Why wouldn’t he?”

“I don’t think he trusts anyone after what he’s been through. We need to give him a little time. I’m sure that he’ll come around.”

“If you say so, but in the meantime, we need to stay out of this, Pat. I mean it. It’s one thing to get dragged into a murder investigation when it directly concerns us, but this is a stretch by any definition.”

“You’ll still help out when he asks for it though, right?”

“If he accepts your offer, I’m there, but in the meantime, it’s almost closing time, and we have a business to shut down for the day. Are we agreed?”

“We are,” he said, and we started going about ending our day, at least the last part of it that we normally spent at the Iron. Edith was already gone, as was her regular schedule, and Pat had sent Skip home early, so it was just the two of us. Truth be told, I didn’t have any problem with that. I liked it when my twin brother and I were alone in the store that we owned and operated together. As Pat worked on totaling the receipts for the day, I went about shutting down the grill. There was very little small talk between us, but then again, there didn’t need to be. Just knowing that he was close by was enough for me. Tonight was going to be different though, at least as far as I was concerned. I was teaching a class, something I always looked forward to. As I worked at transitioning from operating the grill to getting things prepped for my students, my mind wandered in the direction of what Pat had gotten us into. Getting involved with Albert Yeats’s investigation wouldn’t make us very popular with our customer base, but that couldn’t be a factor in our decision to help the man out. Still, I wouldn’t be heartbroken if he decided to turn down my brother’s generous offer.

Time would tell, one way or the other.

In the meantime, I had work to do.

“Tonight’s the big class, isn’t it?” Pat asked me as he approached the grill area of our store after he’d finished his closing tasks, including making out the day’s deposit for the bank. “Are you ready for it?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. “The supplies are all here, and the firewood’s on its way.”

“Are you sure that you don’t need me to stick around and help out?” he offered. The sentiment was sincere, if misguided. This was one of the few things about our business that was all mine, and I tended to guard it jealously from my brother.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m good.”

“I bet you are,” he said. “If you need me, all you have to do is call. Have fun.”

“You, too,” I replied. I knew that Pat would stay in his apartment upstairs during my class, no doubt watching DVDs and trying his best not to join my group. He’d tried that once before, but now I offered him a stick and a carrot to stay away. The stick was my wrath, which he was in no hurry to ignite, and the carrot was after class was finished, I brought him a portion of the meal I’d made for the class if there was any left over, and there almost always was, no matter how large my students’ appetites were.

“What’s on the menu tonight?” he asked me.

“Ribs, roasted potatoes, peppers, and onions,” I said.

“Man, my mouth is already starting to water.”

“Well, you’ll have to find a way to wait until tonight to eat.”

“I’m not sure I can last that long, but I’ll try,” he said with a grin.

Pat took off for the bank, but I had a few more things I needed to take care of before the extra session of my workday began. I was always excited when it was time for one of my cooking classes, and this one was especially nice, since it was the autumn outdoor session of the season. While I used at least some of my cast ironware at the grill every day without fail, many folks just used theirs camping or doing other outdoor activities. I’d tried to fight the trend when I’d first started offering my cooking classes to keep the work indoors, but finally, I’d decided why fight it? Since then, four times a year, once during each season, I offered a class on cooking outside over coals from a hardwood fire. My class was limited to five people for several reasons. One was because three cast iron Dutch ovens were all that I could manage, given my limited space outside, but another was that was all the storage capacity my refrigerator allowed. Six half-racks of ribs, even though they were relatively small, still took up a great deal of room that I didn’t have to spare. The final reason was the size of the fire needed to produce enough coals to cook that much food. Tonight’s session was completely booked with a waiting list of several others, and I realized that it might be worth my time to add more sessions, even though it did take a great deal of work on my part to prep for. At least it wasn’t as bad as it had been the first time I’d offered one of my classes. On my maiden teaching voyage, I’d taken it upon myself to prep every vegetable beforehand. Not only was it an impressive amount of work, but I’d learned that it also took something away from the session. I found that my students enjoyed themselves more when they had a hand at every stage of the game, with the exception of building the fire. If they wanted to earn a merit badge in outdoor fire-building, they were taking the wrong class. It took a few hours to build up enough coals out back to cook everything on the menu, and even after starting the massive fire, it still needed to be tended to keep the coals burning. I couldn’t both tend the fire and teach the course, so I had someone help me, though not Skip. I’d tried that once, and it had been a disaster. Skip tended to focus on the height of the flames instead of the quality of the coals. Now I hired a friend that Pat and I had gone to high school with, Timothy Roberts—an accountant by profession, a real woodsman and supreme fire builder in his spare time—and unless I was mistaken, that was his knock I heard coming from the front door.

“Right on time,” I said as I let him in. Timothy had been tall and gangly through school, but he’d been a late bloomer, and now that leanness had been replaced by solid muscle-mass. His dark-brown hair was a little longer than it had been back then, but his blue eyes still flashed brilliantly, especially when he laughed. We’d gone out on one date in high school, but it had been awkward for both of us, especially the good-night kiss at the door, so we’d quickly settled into friendship that had lasted over the years, which was more than I could say about any of my romances.

“Would I ever let you down, Annie?” he said with a grin as he hugged me. “You know what a pyromaniac I am at heart. I’m not about to miss a good bonfire, especially if I’m the one who gets to start it.”

“Cooking fire, you mean,” I said.

He laughed. “Sure, that’s exactly what I meant. I know what you need, and I’m here to supply it. The split oak firewood is in the back of my truck. Should I go ahead and get started?”

“I really appreciate you doing this, Timothy,” I said.

“Hey, the truth is, I miss hanging out with you,” he said, his eyes going to the floor for a moment.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

I’d tried to be nonchalant about it, but Timothy wasn’t having any of it. He suddenly looked up and stared directly into my eyes. Gently grasping my arms, he said softly, “Annie, go out with me.”

This new intensity was completely unexpected, and I wasn’t quite sure how to react. “Sure. Do you want to grab a movie or something sometime?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner tomorrow night.”

“Like a real date, you mean?” I asked him stupidly. Where had this come from? We’d been coasting along for quite a few years just being friends. What had changed?

“Exactly like a real date. I’ve been hoping for another chance with you for too long. What do you say? Come on. It will be fun.”

“Sure, I guess so. Okay. Fine,” I said.

He wouldn’t let me go, though. With a grin, Timothy pushed a little. “Now try that again, but this time with a little enthusiasm, unless you think that I’m a homely old troll unworthy of your attention and affection.”

He was anything but that. I did my best to smile, and then I tried again. “Thank you for asking. Yes. I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

“Tomorrow night?” he asked, the shine in his eyes intoxicating.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Excellent. That’s outstanding. Wonderful!” It tickled me how pleased he was by my acceptance.

“Maybe you could let me go now that I’ve agreed to go out with you,” I said with an easy smile.

I don’t think he even realized that he was still holding onto me. After quickly releasing my arms, he said sheepishly, “I’d better go get that fire started.”

“You do that,” I said. If someone had told me an hour earlier that I’d be going on a date with my friend Timothy, I would have laughed at them, but honestly, why was it so funny? As I began setting out the three Dutch ovens for class and arranging the raw vegetables that would go with the ribs, I found myself getting a little excited about the prospect. Maybe Timothy would be the perfect antidote for my bad experience with Greg Andrews. I knew that we’d have fun together, regardless of whether it led to anything more serious or not.

I was still thinking about the prospects of what tomorrow night would bring when there was a knock at the front door.

It appeared that my first student had arrived, ready for class.

It had been a long day, followed by an even longer evening, but I was ready. I put on my best smile and went to greet my first arrival.