Chili Con Corpses, page 16
“Looks like the beginning of the end here,” James observed and then finished looking through the book. “Colin and Parker are the only pair of lovebirds left in this album. Here they are throwing a lobster dinner for the volunteers at the local food bank.”
“Guess Gary must have had a great personality,” Murphy stated unkindly and then sighed in disappointment. “There’s nothing in this house to report to McClellan.”
Murphy had been in contact with Sergeant McClellan. She had shared her belief that the killer had worn makeup and a wig and defended her theory that the false Mr. Sneed may have had some experience in the theater. She and James had stopped by every costume store within one hundred miles, looking for a similar beard and wig ensemble, but never found a match. Simultaneously, McClellan searched for a clue among the local theater companies, but his pursuit led him nowhere. Then, two weeks before Christmas, a local boy went missing and McClellan’s priority shifted from seeking justice for a dead young woman to recovering the eight-year-old while he still lived.
Late in the afternoon of Christmas Eve, James found the Collector’s Edition Scrabble game at the Barnes & Noble in Harrisonburg and carefully wrapped it using the holiday paper he had bought to support the middle school’s fundraiser. Rolling a bottle of 2003 Cakebread Cabernet Sauvignon in sheets of red and green tissue paper, James gathered Murphy’s gifts and pulled on his coat.
“No need to rush on back home,” Jackson said by way of good night. James noticed that his father had donned a button-down and a coordinating sweater vest along with an ancient clip-on bow tie.
“Did you get Milla a gift?” James wondered.
Jackson scowled. “I made her one and that’s all you need to know about it. Now git. I wanna have a shot of Cutty before she gets here. Give me some courage.” He widened his eyes in an exaggerated gesture of amazement. “Lord Almighty, but that woman can talk!”
James smiled, knowing full well that his father enjoyed Milla’s company and had been pacing around the house all week as if the days couldn’t pass by quickly enough until she would return, bearing trays of food and filling the house with boundless energy and enthusiasm. Ever since Thanksgiving, Jackson had spent a great deal of time back in the shed, and James wondered if he had discovered a new subject to paint. He thought about the art books he had purchased for his father for Christmas and whether Jackson would be disappointed in the giant book on Van Gogh or the coffee-table tome stuffed with colorful plates illustrating a myriad of twentieth-century paintings.
“Can’t worry about that now,” James muttered to himself as he headed off to Murphy’s.
Murphy actually lived in an apartment directly above the offices of The Star. She had placed electric candles in her front windows and had hung pre-lit wreaths from the top of each frame. Soft light emanated from her apartment and as James walked up the back stairs, the aroma of roasting meat greeted his nostrils.
An antique set of sleigh bells hung down the front of Murphy’s apartment door. James knocked lightly and as she opened the door, the bells rattled merrily. Murphy wore a long, off-white turtleneck sweater that clung to her trim hips and a pair of black velvet leggings. James had to smile as he took note of her slipper socks, which were red and white striped and seemed completely incongruous with the rest of her polished look.
She followed his eyes to her feet. “My apartment floors are so cold,” she said by way of explanation and then led him into the kitchen. “I thought I’d open a bottle of wine. Do you prefer white or red?”
James offered her the tissue-wrapped package in his right hand. “How about this one?”
“I like a man bearing gifts,” she grinned and tore open the tissue. “Yum! I can’t wait to try this.” She handed him a corkscrew. “Will you do the honors? I’ve got to check on the roast beast.”
As James opened the wine and poured two glasses, Murphy chatted about the trials of Christmas shopping for her large and widely dispersed family. The tales of her siblings made James wish that he had had a brother or sister. Now that the Henry family had shrunk from three to two, he realized how empty the house seemed, especially during holidays such as Thanksgiving and Christmas. He was grateful to Murphy for postponing her trip home so that she could spend Christmas Eve with him. As she removed the roast from the oven, he told her as much.
“Trust me, I’ll see plenty of my crazy family tomorrow. It would take all the spiked eggnog in Virginia to calm that group down.” Digging through one of her cabinets, she pulled out a hand mixer and began whipping together a bowl of boiled potatoes, butter, sour cream, and milk. “I’m happy you’re here, too,” she added over the whir of the beaters. “And it’s so nice that Milla is over at your place. Do you think she and your pop are going to get hot and heavy?”
James felt his face grow warm. “I don’t think so. I’m just happy that they enjoy each other’s company.”
Murphy stopped the beater and dumped the potatoes into a large ceramic bowl. She put her hand on her hip. “We enjoy each other’s company, too.” She plunked a wooden serving spoon into the steaming white mass and sprinkled pepper over the top. “Does that mean we can never get hot and heavy?”
Without waiting for an answer, she moved into the great room and set the bowl down on the table, where a plate of asparagus drizzled in hollandaise and a basket of crescents already waited. James felt his throat go dry as he mulled over her comment, staring at the candlelit table and listening to the moving strains of Chopin tripping out of a pair of hidden speakers.
As Murphy carried the roast beef to the table, she elbowed him playfully in the side. “Don’t go all analytical on me, Professor. Can’t a girl tease a guy anymore?”
Taking a gulp of wine, James relaxed. “Do you want me to carve the meat?”
“Slice away!” Murphy handed him a knife and went back to the kitchen in order to grab the bottle of wine and the butter dish.
The meat was covered in a fragrant herb crust and was very warm. James had trouble directing the knife into making a straight slice. He had thoroughly butchered two pieces by the time Murphy sat down across from him.
“You’re supposed to let it sit a bit before you cut it,” she explained why he was having difficulty, “but I’m too hungry to wait. Just rip some off of there and let’s eat.”
Over dinner, James told Murphy about the additional guests invited to Lindy’s New Year’s Eve party. They exchanged theories as to what McClellan was planning and then discussed the varied resolutions that their friends had made for the coming year.
“What’s your resolution?” Murphy asked.
“I haven’t thought about it too much,” he answered. “Maybe to keep my blood pressure low so I don’t die at forty. You?”
Murphy swirled the wine around in her glass. “I’ll get back to you on that one. This cab is delicious, by the way. Thank you.” She pushed her plate away and clasped her hands together. “Are you ready for your presents?” She jumped up and refilled their glasses with the remainder of the wine. “We can have dessert later. Come on!”
James wiped his mouth with his napkin and followed her over to the sofa. She had placed a small Christmas tree in the far corner of the room and a pile of expertly wrapped gifts lay beneath the twinkling white lights. Murphy pulled out two small boxes and handed them to James.
“You go first,” she ordered.
He carefully ripped the paper off the first box and was delighted to see a new pair of shear-lined leather slippers inside. “How did you know?” he asked her, thinking about the ratty slippers lined up on the floor next to his bed. “I’ve needed a new pair for about ten years now.”
“I saw them when I used the upstairs bathroom on Thanksgiving. It’s always good to do a little snooping if you’re getting a Christmas gift for a new friend.” She winked. “At first, I thought it was such a lame present, but everyone needs to have warm feet. Now, open the second one. This one’s much better.”
James laughed as the second box revealed a new Monopoly game. “This is more of a gift for you!” he reprimanded her. “Do you really think I want to play this with you after you annihilated me so many times before? Let a man have his dignity.”
“It’s not your run-of-the-mill Monopoly.” Murphy gestured at the box lid. “Look closely.”
“Quincy’s Gap Monopoly,” James read the text aloud in astonishment. “How did you do this?”
“There’s a make-your-own game set, so I used Quincy’s Gap.” Excitedly, she removed the game board and showed James some of the real estate squares. “See? There’s the library and here’s The Star, and there’s the Sweet Tooth, Dolly’s Diner, and I put the Custard Cottage on the Free Parking space because it’s as good as money.”
“I can’t imagine how much time and effort this must have required.” James was in awe. He looked into Murphy’s hazel eyes. “What a special gift. No one’s ever made me something before.”
“Oh my, you used the word ‘special.’ I’d better go open a new bottle of wine.” Murphy sprang up and returned with another bottle of red. “Good thing we had the Cakebread first. I don’t know much about this wine. I just liked the name Matriarch.” She poured two glasses and then gestured at the gift James had brought for her. “And what’s in there?”
“It’s for you,” he stated miserably. “But I had a terrible time thinking of what to get for you, and I’m afraid I haven’t made a great choice.”
“Let me decide on that, okay?” She reached over him and grabbed her gift and as she did so, he caught her clean scent of baby powder and lavender mixed in with a slightly fruity perfume. “Oh, how fun!” she exclaimed when she revealed the Scrabble box. “And do you know why I love this present so much?”
James shook his head.
“It implies that you want to keep spending time together,” she said softly and then brushed his cheek with her lips. “Let’s play a round right now.”
Over the course of the next hour, James and Murphy finished the second bottle of wine and began spelling nonsense words just to test the other person’s vocabulary skills. The wine made it difficult for James to focus on diction, and Murphy’s nearness tempted his thoughts away from winning the game and more on taking her in his arms.
Finally, he decided that it was time to make a move. Murphy had said that she would not be the one to initiate a romance between them, but she had already done her best to ensure that they had spent time together over the past two months. Banishing thoughts of Lucy into the farthest reaches of his mind, James suddenly swept all the Scrabble tiles off the board and onto the rug.
“What are you doing?” Murphy demanded, giggling. “Are you throwing a tantrum?”
“See if you can tell what this means?” James gathered a few tiles and spread them across the board until they read “I W-A-N-T T-O K-I-S-S U.”
Murphy read the message and immediately stopped laughing, though a smile still played around the corners of her mouth. She inched closer and James put his hand behind her neck and drew her into his chest. She felt so much slighter in his arms than Lucy, but she was soft and warm and James could feel his body respond to her touch.
After a few minutes, Murphy broke away and, after taking another sip of wine, began spelling out a new message on the board. When she was done, she got up and walked down the hall into a dark bedroom.
James watched her in surprise and then looked back at what the Scrabble tiles read:
W-A-I-T O-N-E M-I-N-U-T-E
T-H-E-N C-O-M-E B-A-C-K
After a brief moment of hesitation, James drained his wine glass and also finished off the dregs in Murphy’s and then tiptoed down the hall. Murphy appeared in the doorway to her bedroom, dressed in a silky white robe stitched with tiny red roses. Though the robe was long, it fell open to reveal one of Murphy’s shapely legs. He wanted to stop time and drink in the image of her—the curve of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her robe or the way the moonlight illuminated her hair and robe until she practically glowed.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered and then she was against him, wrapping her arms around his back. He didn’t think beyond the moment as Murphy pulled off his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt. His mind concentrated only on her iridescent skin, the feel of her lips, and the faint sounds of Chopin’s Prelude in C Minor.
“Beautiful,” he whispered again and then drew her down onto the bed.
At the final Fix ’n Freeze class of the year, Milla announced that she had been in bed most of the day nursing a bad cold and the evening’s menu was going to reflect her need for simple, comforting fare.
“Seems as though our friend Colin’s still down and out with this nasty bug, and I sure hope none of you get it.” She pulled a large bowl from the oven and, with the aid of a thick pair of potholders, carried it across the room to the center island. “I made us a nice bowl of fresh chili con queso,” she said and then hid a rumbling cough behind a corner of her apron. “And since Lindy wants to serve this delicious Mexican dip at her New Year’s Eve party, I thought I’d give you the basic recipe and then show you how to jazz it up, should you care to.” Gathering her class around the butcher block, she gestured at a new painting hanging to the left of the large front window.
“Before we start, I wanted to show you the most splendid Christmas gift I’ve ever received. What do you think?”
The class oohed and ahhed over an oil painting of a woman’s hands. One hand firmly grasped a carrot, while the other was frozen in the act of driving the blade of a wide knife into the end of the vegetable. A scattered pile of paper-thin carrot slices lay to the right of the hand doing the chopping. That was it. James stared and stared at the image, dazzled by the hues chosen to highlight the veins, knuckles, minute lines, freckles, age spots, and shadows of what were undoubtedly Milla’s hands. The artist had captured grace, strength, and a sense of culinary giftedness in this focused snapshot of a woman at work in the kitchen. Simply entitled The Cook in block letters on the bottom left-hand corner, the painting was unframed and hung from a crude wire on a single nail.
“It’s wonderful!” Lindy exclaimed.
“The emotions captured in this plain activity,” Gillian breathed and moved closer to the painting. “People say the soul is in the eyes, but I think this artist is perfectly aware that the soul can reside in many parts of our body. The feet, for instance, are most revealing.”
Bennett threw Gillian a perplexed look. “Who did this, Milla?”
“Jackson Henry,” she declared. “And I think he’s working on a whole pile of hand paintings as we speak.”
Lucy had arrived while the class was busy studying the painting. “Wow. James, you must be so proud,” she said as she moved to his side.
“I had no idea,” he told her without meeting her eyes. With Murphy standing to his left and Lucy on his right, he felt torn between the past and the present. “He stopped painting altogether for quite a while, saying that he was completely stumped and needed fresh subject matter.”
“Well, I’d say he found it.” Lindy thumped James on the back. “I’m going to have to report this success to my mama, James. She’ll want to fill the gallery again, I’m sure of it.”
“And I hear more congratulations are in order.” Gillian rushed to Lucy and threw her arms around her friend. “You’ve scheduled your physical exam for Monday, right?”
Lucy blushed. “Yeah, that’s right. I think I’m finally ready.”
“Where’s your training partner?” Bennett asked innocently. “Sullie.”
The color on Lucy’s cheeks deepened a shade. “He … um … he passed both exams last week. He’s been officially hired as a deputy in Albemarle County. I helped him pack his stuff earlier this week.”
“So he’s moved already?” Milla sighed. “I’m so sorry, my dear. But I’m sure you’ll see a great deal of him once you’re a deputy, too,” she added brightly.
The room fell silent as everyone examined Lucy’s dejected face.
Lindy, ever the cheerleader, grabbed Lucy’s hand and held it tightly. “You’re going to pass that test on Monday. And after you do, you’re going to be the guest of honor at my party. That means you’re going to get the first whack at the adult-themed party piñata!”
“Intriguing.” Bennett edged behind Lindy. “What are the contents of said piñata, exactly?”
Lindy winked at Lucy. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”
Milla waited for this exchange to conclude before she clapped her hands together. “Now, my dears, let’s continue with tonight’s appetizer.”
Once more, Milla was interrupted as the front door was opened, allowing frigid air to seep inside as a couple scurried into the toasty room. James was surprised to see Kinsley alongside a short man. The man helped Kinsley out of her coat and then appraised the group with interest.
“I think that’s Gary, her ex,” Murphy whispered to James.
Wordlessly, Milla moved toward the pair and enfolded Kinsley in a maternal embrace. Kinsley returned the hug and then smiled hesitantly at her classmates. “Everyone, this is Gary. He took a leave of absence from his job to keep me company for a while. Tonight, after a lot of urging, he finally convinced me to give leaving my house a shot.”
“That’s for sure,” her companion said in a scratchy voice heavy with a New York accent. “No way I could take another episode of Dr. Phil!” He nodded and grinned. “I could do that job, anyway. You just tell every guest that they need to get real a few dozen times and then plug your latest book. Easy!”
Bennett sniggered. “You better watch it, man. You’re in a room packed full of women. Never met a woman who didn’t like Dr. Phil.”
Gary pretended to bow in apology. “Too true. Still, I think the guy’s got a cake life. But don’t worry, I won’t go trashing Oprah. I’m not that stupid. Even Princeton let me graduate. Heeeey!” He put his prominent nose in the air. “What’s that awesome smell?”
