The Battered Body

NINE

“There’s only one thing for us to do,” Bennett stated as he set aside his copy of The Encyclopedia on World History and brought his mug of frothy cappuccino to his lips. “We’re gonna have to crash your Martine family dinner party tonight-get a firsthand look at these suspects ourselves.”

“What dinner party?” Gillian asked.

“Milla and the rest of the clan are getting together at Mamma Mia’s in New Market,” James answered. “I’m driving her there so I can check out the suspects myself.”

“I’m not on the same plane with you, James.” Gillian frowned in disapproval, her silver eye shadow winking as she did so. “It seems rather judgmental to call these out-of-towners suspects. The Star indicated that Paulette’s death was natural. Her body and spirit have simply been returned to the ever-welcoming arms of our Mother Earth.”

After sending a perplexed look Gillian’s way, James recklessly forged ahead with his plan to include the supper club members in the Sheriff’s Department’s investigation. “I don’t know about the redistribution part, but ask Lucy whether it was natural or someone helped her reach Elysian Fields or what have you.”

“Are you holding out on us?” Lindy tugged on Lucy’s sleeve, threatening to spill her mocha latte.

Lucy freed herself from her friend’s grasp and stirred a pink packet of artificial sweetener into her latte. “Way to put me on the spot, James,” she muttered crossly.

Willy, the owner of the Custard Cottage, forestalled her from continuing by arriving at their table with a tray bearing five small cups of custard. “I’ve made up a new flavor, folks,” he said while passing out the plastic spoons and paper napkins he had stored in the front pocket of his pin-striped apron. “Give this a taste and tell me what you think. I’m not sure if it’s ready to be added as a flavor-of-the-week, and since y’all have experience bein’ food judges, I’m gonna leave the decision to the experts.”

Relieved to be out of the spotlight, Lucy spooned an oversized bite of custard into her mouth and then winced as the coldness coated her latte-warmed mouth. Her friends followed suit, taking more reserved bites.

“I taste chocolate, and that’s always a good thing,” Lindy stated.

Bennett wiped some custard from his toothbrush mustache. “Yeah, but marshmallow’s the main attraction in this one.”

Gillian closed her eyes and hummed for a long moment, her hoop earrings bobbing against the skin of her neck. “There’s a very subtle integration of a cakelike cookie. It tastes so familiar, like something from childhood. Nostalgically delicious.”

Willy beamed. “Yes ma’am! All three of you are right, but our Gillian gave me the answer my ears were searchin’ for. I may now introduce y’all to my newest flavor: Memories of MoonPie .”

The dozen or so patrons in Willy’s cozy eatery burst into spontaneous applause. Smiling like a proud parent, he passed out rounds of samples to everyone and listened to their feedback with careful consideration. Willy was a relative newcomer to Quincy’s Gap, but one would never know it by watching him work. Not only did he know the name of each of his patrons, but he knew their favorite flavors and toppings as well. He was aware of their current dieting goals, their occasions for celebration, and when they just needed to be cheered up. Most of the townsfolk viewed him as some sort of magician and paid him weekly visits, no matter how cold it was outside, because Willy was filled with enough warmth and good cheer to change a person’s outlook in the twinkle of an eye and a carefully selected dish of frozen custard.

Because of the enchanted setting, James had thought that the Custard Cottage would be the perfect place for the supper club members to put their heads together and form a plan to identify Paulette’s murderer, but everything depended on Lucy’s willingness to share information with her friends.

“All right.” Lindy put her spoon down, crushed her empty custard cup with the flat of her hand, and stared daggers at Lucy. “Time to level with us. We’ve helped out your department before, remember? We can help again. Or are we unnecessary now that you’re a deputy, even though we helped get you in that uniform you’re so proud of?”

Lucy glanced at Lindy in surprise. “Sheath your claws. I’m not your enemy.”

Lindy was instantly contrite. “Sorry, sorry. I’m such a grump today. See, when I finally talked to Luis this weekend, he told me that his mama’s fadin’ fast and that her last wish is for him to marry the daughter of her closest friend.”

“Ouch!” Bennett exclaimed. “The dyin’ wish of a boy’s mother. Man, that’s heavy. He can’t ignore that one too easy.”

“Thanks, Bennett.” Lindy was clearly crestfallen.

Gillian nudged Bennett’s arm so that the spoonful of custard he was about eat ended up smeared across his cheek. “Luis loves you , Lindy. He might be tormented by his mother’s wishes for a space of time, but eventually the true feelings of his heart will shine through. He’ll acknowledge the fact that his sweet mother was simply trying to be the vehicle of his happiness by pushing him to marry.”

Lindy brightened immediately. “You mean his mama’s pushing this other woman at him so that he’ll make a commitment to me?”

Gillian shrugged. “Destiny moves in mystifying ways. Who can tell what chain of events will draw one soul to another?”

The rhetorical question hung in the air as each supper club member fell silent, thinking of the person who caused their heart to beat faster. James flicked his eyes at Lucy and found that she was staring at him intently, her gaze tender and somewhat sad.

“Why are you doing this?” she demanded, a glimmer of anger crossing her features. “Splitting me between my friends and my job.”

“I’m forcing your hand for Milla’s sake,” James answered. “And because it’s the right thing to do. The five of us make a great team. You know that, Lucy. If justice is what you seek, then we’re on the job beside you. Just like we’ve always been.”

She studied him for another moment and then searched the curious faces of her friends. Nodding, she seemed to come to a decision. “Paulette was poisoned,” Lucy whispered softly. “At least that’s what the medical examiner believes.” She held up a finger and pointed it around the table. “And that fact doesn’t go further than this table.”

“Maybe she killed herself,” Bennett suggested flatly. “She didn’t seem too happy.”

Lucy shook her head. “That’s pretty unlikely. Unless we count her family reunion, there’s no evidence to suggest she was disturbed to the point of wanting to end it all. Plus, most folks don’t like to suffer when they make a deliberate choice to check out. Paulette definitely felt a lot of pain.” She glanced at James. “The way we found her body made that clear.” Lucy succinctly described the scene in the kitchen.

Gillian fanned herself with her hand. “How terrible! Such a cruel death. Someone must have truly wanted her to suffer. Perhaps the way they felt they had suffered.”

James frowned. “I think she enjoyed issuing a little verbal torture to everyone she met. The only person I ever saw her be civil to was my father, and he was plying her with whiskey.”

“I suppose Willow must be at the top of your suspect list,” Lindy said to Lucy. “That girl took more than her fair share of abuse.”

“She was at the bed-and-breakfast too,” Lucy agreed. “But why travel to Quincy’s Gap and then kill Paulette? That would be downright stupid. With her boss a stranger in town, Willow would be elected Most-Likely-to-Kill-the-Diva right off the bat.”

Lindy scooted back her chair and approached the glass case filled with assorted custard flavors. She pointed at one and then gestured at a candy jar filled with peanut-butter cups. A few moments later, she returned with one of Willy’s famous “concretes,” in which he combined the custard and candy toppings-and in this case a few ribbons of hot fudge-using a pair of spackling knives. James loved to watch him blend the sweet ingredients. Willy’s hands were quick and deft, much like the hibachi chefs juggling spatulas or pepper mills at a Japanese restaurant.

“Sorry for the interruption. I just think more clearly when I’ve got a little chocolate running through my system.” Lindy sighed in contentment as she swallowed of bite of chocolate mixed with fudge and peanut-butter cup. “We should consider that Willow may have intentionally waited until Paulette’s family was in town to act. She probably knew more things about the Diva’s life than anyone else, so if there was any family conflict, she could use that to her advantage.”

“Clever,” James said in admiration. “Though I wouldn’t wait around to see if the poison worked if I were a murderer . On the other hand, there was definitely tension between Paulette and her daughter as well as her older sister, Wheezie. Apparently the son could do no wrong.”

“That’s how my mama feels about me!” Bennett thumped his chest and grinned.

As the friends sipped coffee and watched Lindy devour her frozen custard, Lucy created character sketches of Paulette’s family. She shared details from her interviews with the three relatives, stating that each of them had seemed genuinely shocked but not overly distraught by the news of Paulette’s death.

“Frankly, Chloe seemed relieved, as though she had no one to criticize her anymore. Chase got a greedy gleam in his eye, and Wheezie was, I don’t know, resigned. Though I swear she smiled once and then tried to hide it by coughing. All of the family members gave brief and careful answers to our questions-never saying more than necessary. I got the feeling that each one of them was hiding something.”

“How do you sense something like that?” Gillian asked, fascinated.

Lucy pondered her friend’s question for a moment. “When someone’s keeping something from me, it’s like a curtain drops over their eyes. It’s invisible, but I still see it. I can’t explain it better than that.”

James studied her for a moment, wondering if he’d be attracted to Lucy’s cornflower blue eyes, luminescent skin, and lustrous cinnamon-hued hair for the rest of his days. She always looked especially appealing when they were involved in a case together. He was suddenly struck with the realization that they got along best when they were investigating a murder. The rest of the time they seemed at a loss over how to take the relationship to a romantic level and keep it there.

James also saw, in this oddly timed moment of self-reflection, that for years he had been at the mercy of Lucy’s whims. He had wanted to claim Lucy as his own from the day they met, and since that time, only his relationship with Murphy had interfered with those feelings. Lucy, however, seemed only interested in behaving like a couple when he was already dating someone else. Clenching his fists, James looked away from her animated face. His emotions were warring within him as he thought about never kissing her again for the rest of their lives.

Why does everything have to be so complicated? He thought crossly. Am I ever going to find the right person to spend my life with? Because apparently, it’s not going to be Lucy Hanover!

Gillian observed James’s hangdog look and covered his hand with hers. “Poor Milla. What did she and your father decide to do about their wedding?”

“It’s postponed. There’s going to be a memorial service for Paulette on Christmas Eve instead.” James scowled. “Unfortunately, it’s bound to turn into a media feeding frenzy. Newspaper reporters and TV crews should be descending on us any second now.”

“You hear that, Willy?” Bennett called out to the proprietor. “The press is coming to Quincy’s Gap. Better stock up.”

Willy scrutinized the contents of his cooler and smiled. “I’d best make lots of extra coffee-flavored custard. Those journalist types go nuts for anythin’ that has so much as a whiff of caffeine.”

James was highly tempted to ask for one of Willy’s cinnamon cappuccino custards, but he was determined to restrict his caloric intake that day and feared that having dinner at the family-style Italian restaurant in New Market would be enough of a challenge to his resolve.

“So tell me, Bennett,” Lindy raised a dark eyebrow, “how exactly can five people crash a dinner party at Mamma Mia’s?”

“Easy.” Bennett wiped a trace of whipped cream from the rim of his wide-mouthed cup and sucked it from his finger with a smile. “We act like we just happened to have run into our old friend James. Because the man is so polite, he’ll introduce us to Milla’s kin and then he’ll feel like he’s gotta ask us to join the party. We protest at first, but then we sit down and order a few rounds of booze. We only pretend to drink, while encouraging the rest of them to get soused, and then we sit back and listen.”

“Do you think they’ll be completely honest and open with you there?” Gillian asked Lucy.

“No,” she answered truthfully. “I’ll dress in plain clothes and hang out at the bar, but I can’t sit with the rest of you. I can’t even come in at the same time. Maybe I can still eavesdrop from the bar.” She looked keenly disappointed.

The group fell silent, recognizing that their crime-solving methods were now firmly and truly altered since Lucy had become a deputy.

“It doesn’t matter,” Lindy said after a moment, and slung her arm around Lucy’s shoulder. “As long as we’re together, we can do some good.” She put her free hand in the center of the table. “The Flab Five is back at it! Who’s with me?”

Grinning like children, the friends piled their hands on top of hers and James felt, at least for the moment, that equilibrium had been restored.

James had never been to Mamma Mia’s before as it had only been open for a little over a month. The restaurant’s décor was a strange blend of luxury and outright tackiness. The walls were wood-paneled and the tablecloths were a pristine white and had been ironed and starched to crispness. Despite these elegant details, there were also dozens of Italian flag garlands criss-crossing the ceiling and trellises of silk bougainvillea in a very unnatural shade of electric pink obscured the walls. The centerpieces on the tables were comprised of dyed-green carnations and miniature Italian flags. The music was at odds too, alternating between Frank Sinatra, Pavarotti, and the soundtrack from Moonstruck .

Upon entering the quirky restaurant, Milla quickly took care of the seating arrangements and, after introducing James to her family, placed him between Willow and Chloe.

Paulette’s daughter was the absolute opposite of her mother. Where Paulette had been all thinness and sharp edges, Chloe was soft everywhere. With a round body, wide eyes, and unfashionably long hair, which she wore in a thick ponytail straight down her back, Chloe wore a loose T-shirt, a flowing denim skirt, and Birkenstock sandals. She greeted James with the open kindness and warmth that James had come to associate with Milla, and he found himself immediately hoping that the young woman had nothing to do with her mother’s sudden death.

Her younger brother, Chase, gripped James’s hand with unnecessary firmness and then, ending the contact with abruptness, fussed over the crimson silk handkerchief poking from the front pocket of his Brooks Brothers suit. He was clearly Paulette’s son, having the same angular jaw, dark eyes, and trim figure. Like his mother, it seemed physically impossible for Chase’s mouth to turn upwards in a smile and, after seating himself with regal grace, the New York lawyer gazed upon the present company with a mixture of boredom and disdain.

Aunt Wheezie was a sweet old lady. She embraced James, calling him a handsome boy, and then hung on to Milla’s arm, her expression affectionate. For someone in her late seventies, Wheezie was startlingly childlike and innocent. She glanced around Mamma Mia’s with the wide-eyed wonder of a young girl being offered her first carousel ride. When the waiter appeared, she giggled and ordered a Shirley Temple as though she were requesting a double shot of tequila.

“I’ll handle the wine,” Chase announced. “I’m sure to have the most qualified palate.”

He’s a male version of his mother, James thought and then smiled as Gillian breezed through the restaurant’s front door wearing a purple poncho over a tangerine colored sheath and enormous drop earrings that fell like silver waterfalls to her shoulders. Lindy was right on her heels, looking attractively chic and exotic in a red wool coat, slimming black pantsuit, and chunky necklace made of asymmetrical, multicolored beads. Bennett wore a blue button-down and a mustard-colored tie, but had replaced his sports coat in favor of his favorite bomber jacket. Lucy was nowhere in sight.

“James! And Milla too!” Lindy trilled upon pretending to notice their large party. “What a surprise!”

She quickly walked over to Milla and gave her a warm kiss on the cheek. Shortly afterward, she was kissing everyone in welcome. Even Chase seemed to warm to her effusive charm.

“You must join us,” Milla insisted before James had the opportunity.

Gillian waved off the invitation. “Oh, we could never intrude on an intimate family gathering.”

Aunt Wheezie stroked her purple poncho with delight. “Are we having a party? You can sit next to me, sweetie. I like your pretty red hair.”

Gillian beamed. “You have such a youthful aura about you. I believe I might be rejuvenated just by being in your presence.”

Milla looked to James for help. “Would you ask the waiter to slide another table over here? It’s almost Christmas and your friends have become like family to me. I’d so love to have them eat with us.”

James bowed, feeling a prick of guilt for enacting such a deception upon a woman who had always been the epitome of sincerity and kindness. “Anything for you, milady,” he told her.

Once everyone was settled, the waiter bustled off toward the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine. As he poured the burgundy-colored liquid into her glass, Lindy pointed at the bottle and said, “I think we’re gonna need at least two more of those.” She turned to Chloe and clinked glasses with her. “Y’all need some cheerin’ up, right?”

While Lindy regaled Chloe with details of her relationship troubles, Gillian asked Wheezie and Milla about their childhoods in Natchez. Chase, who guzzled down his first glass of wine as though it were Gatorade, seemed grudgingly impressed to learn that Bennett was to be a Jeopardy! contestant in a few weeks and proceeded to toss out question after question of legal trivia. Bennett refilled Chase’s glass and pretended to ponder each question as though he had never been so challenged by another person’s wisdom before.

Each of the supper club members had previously chosen a member of the party to get to know, and James had volunteered to focus his attention on Willow. He had a difficult time concentrating on small talk, however, once the waiter appeared with their appetizers. They were served on enormous porcelain platters meant to be passed around the table so that everyone could sample each dish. There were stuffed mushrooms bathed in a four-cheese sauce, fried zucchini sticks with marinara dip, lamb ravioli in a creamy pesto sauce, and spicy bruschetta covered by a thin layer of parmesan, sun-dried tomatoes, and fresh basil.

“Do you remember when I came to the library? You said that you might have an idea about a job for me?” Willow gently reminded James as he accepted a mushroom from the platter she held out to him.

“Indeed I do. Excuse me, Milla.” James interrupted a conversation between Gillian and his future stepmother. “Would you mind telling Willow about Quincy’s Whimsies?”

For the first time since receiving the news that her sister was dead, Milla’s face lit up and her eyes sparkled with animation. “I’m planning on opening a gourmet gift store in the spring. I’m going to carry handmade gifts, made by craftsmen right in our own Shenandoah Valley, and eatable gifts as well. Nothing that would compete with the Sweet Tooth or the Custard Cottage, of course. I was thinking of offering some pre-made dinners and a line of jams, sauces, purees-that sort of thing.”

“How about handmade chocolates and candies?” Willow asked eagerly.

Milla nodded with a smile. “Those would be an excellent addition to our inventory, my dear. I was also thinking of carrying specialized kitchen tools and cookbooks. Pretty tea towels and potholders and aprons. Oh! I can see it all already!”

“You could make culinary gift baskets too,” Willow suggested, caught up in Milla’s vision. “Instead of sending people a bouquet of flowers for Valentine’s Day or Mother’s Day or whatever, a customer could create a personalized gift basket stuffed with the recipient’s favorite candy, jam flavor, scented candle-that kind of thing.”

“That’s brilliant!” Milla declared. “And we could make baskets of local products to sell to the tourists. I love it!” She clapped her hands. “How would you like to be the manager of Quincy’s Whimsies, my girl?”

“Me? Really?” Willow blushed and put her hand to her chest, clearly stunned. “But you barely know me.”

James refilled both of their wine glasses, reveling in the glow on Milla’s cheeks and the spark of hope in Willow’s pale blue eyes.

“I know enough,” Milla declared forcefully. “You’re a hard worker, a creative thinker, and you can cook. James brought me home a fat slice of that lemon-strawberry layer cake, and I was licking my fingers for hours afterward.” She studied Willow over the rim of her wine glass. “I assume you could bake every one of Paulette’s cakes, couldn’t you?”

“Yes. I’ve even helped her improve her recipes.” Willow looked both proud and embarrassed of her skills. “I could take over her show if I had any personality, but I don’t, and I’d hate to be on TV anyway. I really love to make things from scratch though. Fresh foods are so fulfilling, and I love the look on people’s faces when they taste something really delicious that I’ve made.”

“I enjoy that too.” Milla smiled at Willow fondly. “That’s why I started my cooking school, so that my students could learn to put that look on those gathered around their tables. But now I’d like to surround myself with a shop stuffed to the brim with pretty things, gossiping with my customers while I sit on a stool, drinking a cup of tea, listening to the cash register ring and ring.”

Willow sighed euphorically. “That sounds so lovely. I’d be thrilled to be a part of your enterprise. I’ll need to wrap up my life in New York and find an apartment to rent down here first.” She looked at James from beneath her lashes. “Does Francis live in an apartment? Maybe he knows of a vacancy in his building.”

“No. He and Scott live in an apartment in a converted garage, but there’s a brand new complex not too far from town you could check out. For the price of your Manhattan studio you could probably get a three-bedroom palace in Quincy’s Gap.”

Willow and Milla continued to brainstorm about their future endeavor while two waiters arrived bearing their entrées. James watched with delight as the heavy platters were placed on the table.

“Beautiful!” Aunt Wheezie shouted with glee and James felt like doing the same. Before him was an Italian feast featuring slices of veal saltimbocca slathered in brown sauce and melted mozzarella, thin pieces of chicken piccata embellished with paper-thin slivers of lemon, mounds of fettuccini Alfredo mixed with prosciutto and peas, salmon filets flavored with lemon and herbs, and lobster tortellini in a creamy tomato basil sauce.

Having already consumed a large serving of spinach salad, James was determined to make good choices during this part of the meal, so he helped himself to a salmon filet and half a chicken cutlet. Every bite of the rich fare was delicious, and it took an iron will to steer clear of the enticing but undoubtedly fattening noodle dishes. No one else was skimping on samples, however, and James couldn’t believe how much food the party was able to consume.

With two glasses of wine and excellent food in his belly, James was having a hard time viewing his tablemates with a suspicious eye. Even Chase, who had warmed up conspicuously due to the entire bottle of wine he drank, was joking around with Bennett as though they were old friends.

Everyone was laughing and rosy-cheeked, and it wasn’t until James left to use the restroom that he became aware of a familiar figure sitting at the bar. Lucy was wearing a baggy gray wool coat over jeans and a black turtleneck. Her head was slightly bent and her hair partially obscured her face. A half-filled cup of coffee sat between her hands and James realized she had been watching them in the mirror behind the bar.

“How long have you been here?” he asked without looking directly at her.

“Since your appetizer course.”

James felt a pang of pity for Lucy. She was utterly outside the circle of camaraderie and, instead, sat at the bar like a brooding P.I. from a vintage detective story. “Did you have anything to eat?”

Lucy nodded. Through clenched teeth, she whispered. “Go away, James. I’ve heard a lot sitting here, and I can’t listen if you’re talking to me. Besides, someone might notice.”

Thus dismissed, James remained in the bathroom until his countenance, flushed with injured pride, returned to a relatively normal hue. By the time he resumed his seat, the dinner party was busy sampling squares of tiramisu, miniature chocolate-covered cannoli, and slices of triple-berry cheesecake. James noticed that in his absence, fatigue and stuffed bellies had forced the assemblage to grow more taciturn, and he was relieved when the waiter finally presented the check to Chase.

“Just tell us what we owe you, my dear.” Milla fished her wallet out of her purse. “I’m helpless with dividing up checks after only one glass of wine.”

“There’s no need,” Chase replied magnanimously. “I’ll take care of it.” He slid a gold card on top of the check and handed the server book to the waiter.

As the rest of the party thanked Chase effusively, aware that their meal had cost hundreds of dollars, Chloe began to sulk unattractively.

“He can afford to be generous,” she whined as Chase’s attention was diverted when his Waterman pen rolled under the next table.

Willow gazed at Chloe in sympathy. “I know. It’s a messed-up world when lawyers make more than teachers or firemen or animal rescuers, right?”

Chloe nodded but was determined to be petulant. “It’s not just the huge salary he collects by ruining the lives of those wronged by drug companies. Mother’s left him all her money too. I’m totally broke, but I won’t get a dime because I didn’t follow the recipe she laid out for my life. Chase did everything she wanted, and that’s why he gets the big payoff.”

“I guess that’s going to be a fair amount of money,” James mused aloud.

“Royalties from her cookbooks and product endorsements alone will allow him to buy that house in the Hamptons. Now he can set up his latest mistress in style. I wonder how his wife would feel about that!” Chloe seethed, and James was taken aback by what now appeared to be a rather mercurial personality.

Chase had overheard that last bit and colored angrily. “You and your sea cows. If you hadn’t pissed mother off at every turn and then married a loser who got so drunk that he fell off his own boat and drowned, then you’d be sitting pretty too.” He signed his credit card receipt with a violent scrawl. “Let’s go, Wheezie. We’d better take you back to the roach motel before you fall face-first into the tiramisu. Willow? I’m assuming you need a ride,” he added ungraciously, all traces of his alcohol-induced gaiety gone.

“We’ll take her back to the Widow’s Peak,” James answered on Willow’s behalf, and Milla gave him a grateful smile.

Straightening his tie, Chase pushed back his chair, threw his napkin on the seat, and strode from the room without waiting to see whether his aunt and sister were ready to leave.

“Party’s over!” Wheezie declared with less energy than before, and she seemed to shrink into herself. Chloe mutely helped her aunt into her coat and then left, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Willow and the supper club members stood up and gathered their coats and purses. James turned around to examine the bar area and saw that Lucy was already gone.

“Yes, the party’s over,” he said to Lindy as he helped her with her coat. “But now we’ve got a lot to talk about at the memorial service.”