Delicious and Suspicious (28 page)

Lulu was now feeling like she wanted to wrap up this conversation before she discovered that Ella Beth and Coco had been at the Peabody, too. And the news that Sara had actually gone into the Peabody, when she’d said she’d stayed outside gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Well, I’m sorry to hear about all this, Derrick, but I think everything can be really easily explained. Seb obviously was talking to Rebecca on the phone, and then decided he wasn’t going to be blackmailed and left. Cherry was trying to make moves on that cameraman, Tony. Aunt Sara might have just emptied the salt shaker into Miss Adrian’s drink, like you said. She was plenty mad at her. Mildred was on her way in to deliver the comeback she’d been thinking about. Flo . . . well, I’m not so sure exactly why she was there, but I think I have a pretty good idea. So don’t worry your head anymore, Derrick. Consider it all taken off your shoulders.”

She got up from the table to give Derrick a hug. Babette growled ominously at her. Lulu glowered but stopped when Derrick started laughing again. She fussed, “I don’t know why that animal despises me so much. I’ve given it treats, cooed at it. What more does it want?”

Derrick shrugged, still chuckling over it, and Lulu smiled back. “I guess if she’s trying to protect you from my hugs then the creature can’t be all bad. Anyway, honey, you take care. I love you and don’t want to see anything happen to you. Thanks for telling me what happened that day. I promise it’s going to work out just fine.”

“Thanks, Lulu. It’s kind of a relief to talk about it. Don’t worry; my tire-slashing days are over.”

“Well, thank the Lord for that. I couldn’t stand to have any more troubles with you, Derrick. My poor heart couldn’t take it.”

“So,” said Lulu with lifted eyebrows, “your invitation to Ms. Swinger went well last night?”

Buddy had come into the restaurant with a spring in his step and now was puffed up like an elderly peacock. “She said she’d
love
to come over to dinner with me. And she thinks it’s the sweetest thing that I’m going to cook my special dinner of Cornish game hens. It’s regionally famous, you know.”

“And,” said Lulu, “I found out from Leticia that alcohol is
not
a problem for her. We were all just making assumptions about her because she was a choir member. She likes her wine just fine.”

Buddy looked vastly relieved.

But Big Ben looked morose. He apparently had his ears turned on since he spoke in a normal volume. “I guess this means you’ll be opening the Domaine Vincent Dauvissat Chablis Les Preuses? If a first date isn’t a special occasion, I don’t know what is.”

“Well, now, I’m thinking that this isn’t really the best time to uncork that particular bottle. Opening a bottle with that degree of magnificence might give a lady the wrong idea. She might worry that I’m hurrying into a significant relationship too fast. It might make her want to put on the brakes.”

Big Ben brightened. “That’s true. I think it would be much better for those of us at this table to share the bottle. We could celebrate your good fortune in having such a wonderful dinner partner tomorrow night.”

Buddy frowned. “A first date isn’t a reason for celebration. Putting too much stock in something that could so easily go haywire could set me up for some bad karma. I’ll tap into the bottle another time.”

“Hope I’m not dead by then,” muttered Big Ben. He thought for a minute. “Don’t you think serving Cornish game hens might give her the wrong idea, too? That’s pretty fancy stuff.”

Buddy looked startled. “You know, I didn’t think of that. Maybe I should stick with my special meatloaf. I think it’ll fit the bill just fine.”

Lulu said, “Mmm! That sounds absolutely delicious, Buddy.”

“But what,” said Buddy thoughtfully, “if the lady doesn’t like meatloaf?” They all groaned. “I’m just saying! Sometimes people are funny about meatloaf. It’s a different consistency. So I’ll ask our resident food guru. Lulu, what do you think might make a special, but not too special, meal for my date?”

This was one of Lulu’s favorite kinds of questions. Just the process of mulling over menus was fun—there were so many flavor combinations to go with. “We
know
she likes pork,” said Lulu. “After all, she eats it every time she comes into the restaurant.”

“That’s a fact. But maybe that means she’d like something a little different on her special evening out.”

Morty groaned. “I think you’re overthinking this, man! I remember my days of wine and roses. All I needed for my dates with the pretty ladies was a great bottle of wine, some flowers for the table, and a serenade I’d provide my own self. Who even cared what we were eating? It was all about the love.”

Buddy carefully ignored him. “I do have some black-eyed peas I picked up from the farmers’ market yesterday. They’d make a good side.”

Lulu nodded. “Mmmhmm. Makes me hungry just thinking about it. Put them in a bowl full of water tonight; refrigerate them overnight so they’ll be in good shape tomorrow.”

Buddy nodded. “And cook them with? Lots of bacon?”

“Oh, honey,
yes
! Bacon makes everything better. Buy that yummy smoked bacon. Bacon and red onions and garlic.”

Big Ben said, “Don’t forget a little hot sauce. I do love hot sauce in my black-eyed peas.”

“So that’s the perfect side. We’re all in agreement?” Buddy asked.

They all nodded.

“But then what to go with it?” Buddy had an edge of exasperation to his voice. Lulu figured he must really like that lady.

“Buddy, we’ve talked about food before! Didn’t you tell me you had a great recipe for country fried steak?”

Buddy considered this. “It’s absolutely delicious. I make it with a nice gravy and mashed potatoes. And the black-eyed peas on the side.” He hesitated. “Will it be too messy, though?”

“I think Leticia will love it. If she doesn’t mind the mess of barbeque, I don’t think some meat and gravy is going to bother her much,” said Lulu. “It sounds like a down-home, tasty meal for someone who isn’t trying to show off too much but wants to make something memorable.”

After a while, being at Aunt Pat’s ended up being more of a strain. Lulu usually loved cracking jokes with her customers. And she was a whiz at remembering orders and getting the orders to the right tables. Today, though, she couldn’t seem to focus. When one of the tables asked about the coleslaw they didn’t get, Lulu realized that her mind wasn’t at Aunt Pat’s at all. It must be somewhere at the Peabody. She walked back to the kitchen, looking for the missing coleslaw.

Lulu glanced blankly around the kitchen. She couldn’t even remember what it was that she’d gone in there for. Was it baked beans? Corn pudding? Lulu frowned. When Ben saw her, he said, “Mother, why don’t you go home for a little while? You look completely wiped out.”

“Is it that noticeable? I don’t know what’s come over me—I don’t feel all that well today.”

“It’s probably the stress. I bet you haven’t slept all that well since this whole thing started, have you?” Lulu shook her head. “Well, you’re not doing yourself or anyone else any favors by staying here. Go home and take a nap. It’s slow—the lunch crowd is over, and it’s hours before we’re busy for supper and the blues band. I’m going to tell Sara to go home in a little while and let her put her feet up, too. I think she feels just as worn out as you do.”

 

 

Lulu had no intention of actually going to sleep. Instead, she thought she’d putter around the house and get some light housework done. Maybe read her book for a little while. But the dim lighting in her living room made her drowsy. And the plump pillows on her plaid sofa looked so inviting. She decided to lie down for just a few minutes. She covered up her legs with Aunt Pat’s old knitted afghan from the back of the sofa.

The next thing she knew, there was a knock on her door. Lulu squinted at the clock and saw that an hour had passed. She struggled up out of the sagging sofa that seemed determined to imprison her.

It was Sara. “Uh-oh—looks like I woke you up. I came by to make sure you were doing okay, that’s all. Ben mentioned that you were under the weather when you left.”

“That’s no problem, honey,” said Lulu sleepily. “I appreciate your coming to check on me. I’m feeling better after my nap. Just woke up with a dry mouth is all.”

“Why don’t you sit back down on the sofa and let me get us something to drink?”

Since Lulu didn’t make her usual objections to being waited on, Sara figured she must still be foggy from her nap. She walked to the tiny galley kitchen.

Sara loved Lulu’s house almost as much as her restaurant. The wooden floorboards creaked as she walked and the floor dipped down a little in places, but it all combined to give the house a cozy and welcoming feeling. The inside smelled like old wood and the books that filled several glass-fronted cabinets.

A few minutes later, Sara returned with two tall glasses of lemonade. Sara knew that this lemonade wasn’t from a mix, but from scratch. She handed Lulu a glass and then settled down in a worn armchair across from her.

“Perfect!” said Lulu. “A glass of lemonade hits the spot.”

“Do you just keep a bag of lemons at the ready?” asked Sara.

“I like to keep them around. It’s nice to add a little lemon zest sometimes, or some lemon juice to my meats. And my lemonade! Can’t live without my lemonade. And you know, I’ve been squeezing lemons my whole life and didn’t know if you microwaved the fruit for fifteen seconds, you get double the juice out.”

“I’m going to have to give that a go,” said Sara. “I hate it when the lemons are so hard that they’re impossible to juice.”

Lulu looked closely at Sara as she started to feel a little less groggy. “Ben sent you home, too. How are you holding up? Have you been sleeping as poorly as I have?”

“Sleep,” said Sara wryly. “Define sleep. The last few days I’ve felt like I can’t turn my brain off. Do you ever get that feeling? My mind is whirling around and doesn’t shut down. On the upside, things are going great with my art. I get out of bed in the middle of the night and go to my studio. It’s amazing what you can get accomplished when insomnia adds three or four extra hours to your day.”

Lulu opened her mouth to say something but then hesitated. “Sara, you know I trust you completely. I don’t want you to think that I have the slightest bit of suspicion against you. But . . . I did have one question. I was visiting Derrick yesterday, and he told me about the afternoon you’d found out he’d skipped school and was slashing Miss Adrian’s tires. He said that when you made him go get cleaned up in the restroom, he saw you put something in Rebecca’s glass when he was coming out.”

Sara said, “Ohhhh.” She thought about it for a minute. “I’m sorry he saw that. Has he been worried the whole time that I murdered Rebecca?” She rubbed her eyes. “Bless him. And he’s kept quiet this whole time.”

“I know you didn’t have anything to do with it, but, well—”

“What
was
I doing?” Sara gave a short laugh. “Acting about as mature as Derrick is what I was doing. I did pour something in her drink.
Not
poison, though.”

“So . . . she was in Chez Phillippe?” asked Lulu with a frown, mentioning the restaurant inside the hotel, right behind the lobby and bar.

“No, she was sitting out in the lobby. She’d ordered a cocktail, and it was sitting right there on her table. She got up and walked away from her table for a minute to talk on her cell phone. I had a couple of packets of salt in my pocket that I’d absentmindedly stuck in there when I’d helped bus one of our tables. It was totally juvenile, but I ripped those packets open and poured them right into her drink. I thought I’d spice up her beverage a little bit. At the time, it seemed harmless enough. I’d just pay her back for her nasty comments about my art. And, of course, I didn’t have a clue that she was going to end up dead, or I’d never have done something that stupid.”

Lulu relaxed. “I knew it had to be something like that, Sara. But you know why I had to ask you. It’s been eating poor Derrick up, thinking you were somehow involved in the murder.”

“The only reason I didn’t say anything about it is because I thought nobody had seen anything and no harm had been done. I’d put
salt
in her drink, after all. But I felt so immature that I kept quiet about it.”

“Maybe you can have a talk with him today and clear everything up,” said Lulu in a soothing voice.

“I’m surprised,” said Sara, “that Derrick actually opened up to you enough to say anything about it. Usually when I try to talk to him, he clams up completely. I mean, I could be asking him about something totally innocent: ‘Derrick? Don’t you want a little more to eat?’ And he acts like I’m trying to strong-arm his computer password out of him or something.”

“I convinced him to tell me what he knew for his own safety. After all, if Mildred Cameron was murdered for what she knew, someone could just as easily decide to take Derrick out, too.”