Rita Lakin_Gladdy Gold_01 (24 page)

46

Book Soup

T
he girls haven't stopped
talking about food the whole drive over here. Visions of pot roasts and
chicken livers dance in their heads, so naturally when I stop the car
at the Lauderdale Lakes public library they are puzzled. Especially
since the library is closed.

I give no explanations. I walk to the back entrance, I
knock three times for dramatic effect, and it is unlocked for us by
Conchetta. With Barney right alongside. I do the introductions.
Conchetta Aguilar and Barney Schwartz meet my girls. They all shake
hands, most bewildered. And even more so when Barney identifies them by
the books they read that I take out for them.

"Bella," he says. "The lady of the romance novels. Large
print. And Evvie and her Hollywood biographies and Ida who likes
best-sellers and Sophie who likes
Reader's Digest
."

Evvie beams. She's getting into the spirit of this. "So
that's what you meant when you called off the names of restaurants.
They were book titles. And a few movies, too."

I wink at her, but Ida is not pleased. "OK," Ida says,
hands on hips. "Just what is going on here?"

"Yeah," says Sophie, whose mind is never far from the
subject of food, glaring at me, "I thought we were going out for
dinner."

"We
are
out. And we
are
going to have
dinner. What we have to do tonight is very private, and this is as
private as we can get."

"I brought in food that I cooked at home," Conchetta says
cheerfully, leading us into the main reading room. There along the
checkout counter are hot plates with an assortment of covered dishes.
"I hope you'll like Cuban food."

There is much consternation at this.

"What's Cuban food?" Bella asks nervously.

"Hot and spicy," Barney says mischievously.

Conchetta jabs him. "You know I kept the spices down."

The girls peer suspiciously into each pot as Conchetta
lifts the lids and identifies them. "
Potaje de frijoles negros,
masa de puerco fritas
with mango sauce, fried plantains and rice,
with
boniato
and chimichurri." She opens all but the last.

"I never eat beans," says Ida, recognizing only one word.
"They give me the gas."

I grab a plate. "Well, I'm excited here. I can hardly
wait to try these."

The girls continue to hang back, except for Evvie who
also takes a plate. "Hey, I'm game to try anything. What's a plantain,
Conchetta?"

"Like bananas."

"And chimi . . . whatever?"

"That's a green sauce with garlic and lime juice you can
dip your bread in. I'll finish translating. The
masa de puerco
is a pork dish.
Boniato
is sweet potatoes.
Mojo
is
another sauce. And the
potaje
is a wonderful black bean soup."

So Conchetta, Evvie, Barney, and I pile up our plates,
but there is no forward movement from the others.

Barney breaks into laughter first. "Let's put the girls
out of their misery," he says as he unveils the contents of the last
pot. "Stuffed cabbage, for the less adventurous of the Jewish
delegation. Compliments of my mom."

Needless to say there is a rush on the stuffed cabbage.

"Save room for the apple strudel afterwards," he adds,
grinning.

As we spread out at the library tables, which Conchetta
has set prettily for us with tablecloths and linen napkins, I glance
over the pages Barney hands me: their research on oleander. I nod
vigorously. "I knew it!" I say victoriously.

"You were right on target. From the time the victims
ingest, they go through severe abdominal pain and heart palpitations,
paralysis, then death."

"But it takes an hour or so before they die, and that's
the big issue here," I say.

The girls look at me, befuddled.

"Isn't it about time you filled us in, Glad?" Evvie asks.
"Why are we getting phone numbers of telephone booths and visiting
Meals on Wheels?"

"In a moment, the big picture." I smile as I see Bella
and Sophie, one by one, taking tiny portions of Conchetta's food,
liking what they taste and coming back for more. Not so Ida, of course.
"Did anyone at Meals remember anything?"

"You were right about going to see them," Evvie says.
"One volunteer remembered that on the date that Selma died, someone
ordered a meal, then at the last minute came in and insisted they
better deliver it themselves to a frightened elderly aunt. He
remembered it because it never, ever happens that way."

"Good. Good. Could he identify the person?"

Evvie shakes her head. "He didn't think so. All he
remembers was someone in a baseball cap and sunglasses."

"But at least we know it happened. And the phone booths?
How many did you find?"

"Five of them, between Lanai Gardens and across the
street at the Florida Medical Center," reports Sophie.

"Excellent."

"And what about my applesauce crumb cake?" Ida asks.
"What on earth was that for?"

"To bribe a chubby bank teller, who loves to eat, to do
the unthinkable--give me confidential information. Which she did."

"So, all right already, I'm about to bust from not
knowing," Sophie says. "So, tell us already!"

"Since we're in a library, let me tell you all about
it--in a story."