Homicide by Hamlet (Cozy Mystery) Book #3 (Chubby Chicks Club Cozy Mystery Series) (3 page)

“Good for you,” I said. “However, Bezu is over him. In fact, I think she feels lucky to be rid of the skunk.”

“That is not at all decorous. Dwight is quite the catch.” Priscilla puckered her lips. “Granted, I’m not trying to stir any pots here, so I won’t discuss this anymore.”

Then why had she brought it up in the first place? She had not only mixed the pot—she’d rattled it, boiled it and, once it was scalding, dumped it over me.

I threw my hands in the air. “Let’s get back to work. We’ll be out by three today, so your team can get in here. Just so you know, I’ll also give every team an hour in the theater as well. To keep it fair. After all, your team shouldn’t be the only exception to the rule.”

“Humph.” She spun around and left.

I turned to my team. “Okay, let’s get going, I suggest you get some blocking done before you break for lunch.”

Making my way out of the theater into the foyer, I stopped in front of a wall of posters. Each team leader and judge had one, which included a short bio and two pictures, one current, and one from their senior year of high school. My high school picture was of me in bell-bottoms, a peasant top and a stylish—for the time—large Afro.

I glanced at Gerald’s black and white Polaroid picture from high school. He wore a knit hat and a Parka coat—which was open and showing a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. He leaned against a Pontiac GTO Judge. He was a looker now, so it was no shock he’d been quite the stud back then as well.

In Priscilla’s high school picture, she stood behind a picket fence. She wore a billowing chiffon dress with her ample cleavage pouring out of the scoop neck. That was strange. Had she gotten a breast reduction after high school? Ever since I’ve known her, she’s had a smaller chest. Maybe she was just heavier then. Although she looked full, like she was pregnant. As suddenly as it came to me I let go of the thought. Priscilla had no children.

I scanned the other posters and smiled. We’d all changed a lot. I bet the high school students got a kick out of seeing how different we were when we were young.

Moving along, I saw Bezu setting up the buffet. She had on a bright, lime green apron over a coral sundress. In my eyes, she was the epitome of a genteel Southern Belle. “Hey there, what did you make?” I asked.

“Fried chicken, cornbread, buttered green beans, mashed potatoes and peach cobbler. Of course, plenty of ice-cold sweet tea.” As Bezu smiled, her green eyes lit up against her porcelain complexion.

“Do you need any help getting ready?” I offered.

“Oh for heavens sake, no.” She set down a large covered aluminum container, pulling off the lid. “I’ve hired a girl to assist me.”

I inhaled. The scent of crispy, deep fried chicken mixed with the syrupy sweet aroma of peach cobbler was so comforting. “This all smells delicious.”

“Isn’t it just grand? Who knew all this would happen to me?”

“Your success doesn’t surprise me. I’ve always thought that you were the best cook amongst the Chubby Chick Club members.”

“I still think it’s cute that you named our group that. And I love that José doesn’t mind the moniker, even though he’s our only male member.”

“And none of us are chubby, except me.” I laughed. Sucking in a deep breath, my mouth began to water. “But, Bezu, you’re by the far the best cook.”

“I think all of y’all make great food.”

Smiling, I thought about our motley group. José, the Savannah police officer who looked like actor, wrestler Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, and felt comfortable enough with us to tell us that he was gay. Then there was Cat, the owner of Sunshine Health food market in Forsyth Park. This week, she was with her husband and their two sets of twins, teenaged boys and five-year-old girls, visiting family in Korea.

“Don’t get me wrong,” I said. “José makes great barbeque, and Cat’s dishes are delicious, too. But your food is always extra special.”

Bezu smiled. “Why, thank you.”

“I think that’s why the publisher contacted you.”

“That only happened because of the media exposure that Cat and I received after we uncovered my tenant’s murderer.”

“Well, that too of course. And then they found out you’re the whole package. Gorgeous, smart, charming, and of course a fantastic cook.”

“You’re very sweet, Annie Mae. I still don’t think I deserve your praise, but trust me, the advance they gave me sure helped influence my decision.”

“So what are they calling the cookbook?” I asked.

She flipped her long blonde hair behind her as she laughed. “Killer Muffins and More.”

I chuckled.

“I’m as happy as a tick on a fat dog,” she said.

“It’s well deserved.” I reached over and patted her arm. “So how’s that hunky boyfriend?”

Bezu blushed pink. “Luiz?”

“Unless you have another?”

She shook her head. “He left for Brazil on business this morning.”

“When will he be back?”

“He’s not sure.” She held a hand to her heart. “But he did say, if he has to stay there longer than a week, he’s going to fly me out to be with him.”

“Good for you.”

“Annie Mae, how did all this happen? One day, I’m so poor that I couldn’t jump over a nickel to save a dime. I had nothing but gumption, trying to hold my house together with duct tape and a prayer. And now, well, I have an adorable, loving boyfriend, my finances are getting in order, and I have this book deal.” Suddenly, Bezu frowned.

“So why the dejected face?”

She exhaled. “Because everything is going so well—too good. I have this feeling that something bad is going to happen. You know how if you’re doing great, then you think it’ll all crumble like an overcooked biscuit?”

“You can’t think like that. Live in the moment. Be happy for what you have.”

Bezu sighed. “I’m trying.”

I needed to reassure her. “You deserve all the good that is coming to you. And for your information, your biscuits are perfectly cooked, they would never crumble.”

Bezu smiled as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Just then a man in a suit walked up to us.

“Pardon me,” he said. “Which one of you is Barbara Elizabeth Susan Gordon?”

“That’s me,” Bezu answered.

He pulled out a business card. “I’m from the Chatham County Health Department. May I see your license and permit?”

And so the Wicked Witch of the South struck again.

“I know who called him,” I said, after the health inspector had looked over Bezu’s documents and left.

“Who?” asked Bezu.

I lowered my voice. “Priscilla Woodham. Otherwise known as the meddling Wicked Witch of the South.”

“I take it, you don’t fancy her in the least bit,” Bezu said.

“Not one iota.” I pulled my shoulders back. “However, unlike her, I can stay professional and not let our differences affect my work.”

“Does she work here with you?”

“She advises one of the teams, like I do. And believe me, you wouldn’t like her one little bit either if you met her.”

“How can you be so sure?” Bezu asked. “I always try to give everyone the benefit of the doubt.”

“And that’s a great quality to have,” I said. “But, trust me on this one. Stay as far away from her as you can.”

Bezu and her helper finished placing the food on the buffet table, and the teams gathered for lunch.

An hour later, I stood next to my dear friend as her employee began cleanup. “Lucky you, Priscilla must be on a diet,” I said.

“Why do you think that?”

“She wasn’t here.”

In that same instant, a voice shrieked. “Annie Mae, Annie Mae. I need to speak with you.”

My breath hitched as I whispered, “I spoke too soon. Here she comes, swooping in on her designer broom. And she has someone with her, too. Hopefully not a flying monkey.”

“Hello.” Priscilla stuck out her hand to Bezu. “You must be Bitsy.”

“Bezu.” Bezu shook her hand.

“I’m Priscilla Woodham. I’m glad we finally got to meet,” Priscilla said.

Then she turned to me and said, “Let me introduce you to my personal assistant, Winona Fowler. Winona, this is Dr. Maple.”

“Nice to meet you, Winona,” I said.

She was an attractive, petite thirty-something, with large hazel eyes behind round glasses. Her dyed, pastel blue hair was in a pixie cut. She had a cute dimple in one cheek and a dainty cleft chin. She held a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other. Something about her seemed familiar. Where had I seen her before?

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, too.” Winona smiled, showing straight white teeth under full lips.

“This is my friend, Bezu,” I said.

Bezu and Winona shook hands.

Priscilla glanced at the food table and said, “I always like to see how another caterer stacks up against my brother.”

“Your brother is a caterer?” Bezu asked.

“One of the very best in town, if not the top one,” said Priscilla as she bent over the peach cobbler. Her nose crinkled. “I can tell with one whiff if the food is edible. Let’s just say that I’m not regretting my decision to skip lunch.”

Bezu looked crestfallen.

“Bezu has a cookbook deal with a major New York publisher. With a big advance and all,” I defended.

“Is that so?” Priscilla asked.

“Yes,” I said. “And I already know it’ll be a bestseller. And I bet Bezu’s going to be bigger than Savannah’s own reigning culinary queen, Paula Deen.”

Bezu looked uncomfortable as she fiddled with her pearl necklace. In my zest to stick up for her, I may have embarrassed my modest friend.

Priscilla scooped a forkful of cobbler into her mouth. As she chewed, her face scrunched. “I’ve worked on committees with Paula. I know Paula. Paula Deen is a friend of mine. You're no Paula Deen.”

“Hey, that was uncalled for,” I said.

“What do you mean?” She acted oblivious to her own harsh remark as she tossed the plastic fork into the nearby trashcan. “It sounds like you’re taking offense to something that was not intended in that way.”

Bezu sucked in a breath. “If you would please excuse me, I have a lot of work to finish up.”

“Before you leave, I wanted to tell you we have someone in common,” Priscilla said.

“We do?” Bezu asked.

Knowing that Priscilla was still up to no good, I wanted to protect my dear friend. “Bezu has work to do, and so do we. Why don’t we leave her alone so we can all get something done?”

Priscilla’s mouth compressed as she looked at Bezu. “I just wanted to let her know that her ex, Dwight, will be around here a lot.”

“Mine? Dwight, like in Bradley Dwight Rabren?” Bezu asked.

Priscilla turned to me and said, “I guess you didn’t tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Bezu asked.

“Your former suitor and I are an item.” Priscilla gave Bezu a smug look.

“He doesn’t go by his first name, Bradley, anymore?” Bezu asked.

“That is old news—he prefers being called Dwight.” Pricilla said. “So please refer to him that way.”

I whispered in Bezu’s ear, “He might have changed his name, but it doesn’t change that he’s still a dirty rat.”

Priscilla said, “And Dwight and I are quite serious. Actually, we’re getting married this weekend.”

Winona’s neck reddened. “You are?”

“My dear, why do you sound so surprised?” She admonished Winona. “You knew we were engaged to be married.”

Winona looked down at her clipboard and flipped the pages. “I had no idea you had set a date, and so soon. I mean, there’s a lot more work to do now, on top of everything else.”

Priscilla paused for a moment, her gaze softened as she reached out and touched Winona’s arm.

For a moment I sensed something affectionate coming from Priscilla directed toward Winona. But just as quickly I dismissed it. Maybe Priscilla just felt bad that she dumped more duties on her assistant.

Winona seemed to study her notes. “I don’t think I’ll have enough time.”

“You can handle it,” Priscilla retorted. “That’s your job. I have a whole list of items that you need to address. Of course, you won’t have much work to do, my dear. It’s going to be a modest little soirée, considering we only have a few days.” Priscilla fluffed her hair.

“Simple?” Winona’s voice rose as though in disbelief.

“Why, yes, of course.” Priscilla tapped a finger on Winona’s clipboard. “Which reminds me. Make sure you reserve the area in front of the fountain in Forsyth Park. Pull strings, call in favors—whatever needs to be done to make it happen. Plus, we need flowers—loads of flowers. Blue hydrangeas and white roses all over. And seating for one hundred fifty—maybe two hundred, and a few large tents, a three piece orchestra, bartenders, wait staff.”

Winona’s eyes widened.

I wondered if she thought, as I did, that the wedding was anything but a modest little soirée.

“Now now, Winona,” said Priscilla. “I can see on your face that you’re overwhelmed. But don’t fret. You don’t have to do it all yourself. My brother will handle the food. We can talk again later about the details, like media coverage and the rest. Now go, go—and get working on the list.”

Priscilla shooed her assistant away, then pushed out her chest and turned to Bezu and me. “Anyway, you’ll be seeing a lot of Dwight around here. And I do hope that won’t cause any issues for either of you. You know, mostly because of your former relationship with him,” she said gesturing to Bezu.

Bezu looked down.

Sensing that my friend was upset, I said to Priscilla, “Now that you’ve gotten that out in the open, might I just add, not only is Bezu over that scoundrel, but she is dating a gorgeous Brazilian tycoon. So if it’s all the same to you, this conversation is over.”

“I was just being civil,” Priscilla said. “Obviously neither of you like him, but you underestimate him. He really is a great man. And quite an entrepreneur. Let me tell you, his new business venture is taking off now that I assisted with the financing. As a matter of fact, he’s a theater camp board member. He’s in charge of pulling together the scholarship prize for this week, so you’ll be seeing a lot of him this week. He’s got such a knack for making money.”

“You mean taking money,” I murmured.

“What do you mean?” Priscilla asked.

“I guess you don’t know,” I said. “But it’s not my business to tell.”

Poor Bezu. He’d left her a week before their wedding, after taking a large bribe from her father to disappear.

Bezu shook her head. “It’s water under the bridge. He may be different now, and I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I can’t believe he’s reformed at all,” I said.

“Reformed?” said Priscilla. “He’s an honorable, hardworking loyal man. And so handsome. What do they call it?” Priscilla snapped her fingers. “Eye candy. Anyway, my friends think I’m dating a movie star. He resembles a young Robert Redford, don’t you think?”

“Yes, he does.” Bezu glanced away.

“Young being the operative word here,” I said clapping my hands. “Okay, that’s enough. Let’s get back to work.”

Bezu drew in a breath. “Please send Dwight my regards. I’m glad that you found each other, from what I hear you’re two peas in a pod.”

I squeezed her hand, proud of her clever comeback.

“Why yes, we are a great match,” Priscilla said raising an eyebrow. “Anyhow. Annie Mae, would you indulge me?”

I exhaled noisily. She was like a Savannah sand gnat, always around and always annoying. “What do you need now?”

Priscilla thrust out her chin. “Is there anyway we can get in the theater just a tiny wee bit earlier than three? It is so important that we get that extra time.”

Give that lady a penny, and she would empty out your account. “Really? I’m already letting you in and I don’t have to.”

“Of course, I understand. But knowing you, I’m sure that you want this competition to be as fair as possible.” She held out her hand as if examining her manicured fingers.

I bit my lip to keep from spewing some foul language at her. “Here’s the deal. You get three o’clock or not at all.”

Priscilla pivoted then walked away.

“Wow,” said Bezu. “I think the moniker Wicked Witch of the South is way too kind for her. She’s more like a fashionable snake in the grass.”

“I wanted to shield you from her evil. But I’m afraid you’ll both be here all week.”

She shook her head. “That won’t be a problem. I can handle her. And actually, she did me a favor.”

“How?”

“She forewarned me that Dwight will be around here.” Bezu smiled. “I can fortify myself.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“When he served me papers.”

“I remember. That was the same day I got back from Chapel Hill. I crossed paths with the jerk when he was leaving your house.”

“Yes, you did.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “You know, I’m not mad at him for serving me the city zoning violation notice. After all, he was just doing his job. But what a shock to see him standing on my doorstep after all those years.”

“I bet.”

I arched an eyebrow. “And it sounds like he’s got a new business going, courtesy of his new sweetheart.”

“I meant it when I said they deserve each other.” Bezu grinned. “And I’m glad that I’ve moved on and made a whole new life.”

“Ah, yes.” I tipped my head back, dramatically flung an arm wide and spoke in a low voice. “
This above all else, to thine own self be true.
”

“Is that from Hamlet?”

I took a small bow. “Yes, my lady. Act one, Scene three.”