Slice and Dice (50 page)

The burns on Arthur’s hands and Constance’s shoulder and arm were serious and required further medical treatment. Nathan’s hair had been singed, not life-threatening, but he’d swallowed so much smoke that the emergency-room doctor suggested he stay in the hospital overnight for observation. Bram and Sophie were released with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises but were told to take it easy for the next few days.

“I don’t consider this taking it easy,” said Sophie, drumming her fingers on the arm of the chair. She eyed a 747 as it rolled past the windows.

“It’s only an hour or two by air from here to St. Louis,” said Bram. “Once they finally get airborne, it won’t take long.”

“I wish that damn ‘delayed’ sign would stop flashing.”

He glanced up at the screen, then shook his head. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he squeezed her neck reassuringly. “You’re exhausted.”

She looked at him sideways, then smirked. “And you look like W.C. Fields.”

“Thanks.” He touched his swollen nose. “It was a lucky punch.”

After being released from the hospital, Bram, Sophie, and Harry had all been driven to the police station in downtown St. Paul. Once they were seated in an interrogation room, Sophie told her story, everything from finding George’s body last Sunday night to her final conversation with Nathan at New Fonteney. She also mentioned the evidence she’d discovered along the way. Perhaps it wasn’t her place, but she said she was sure Kenny had been behind everything. The police seemed to agree.

Before the three of them left to go home, they were informed that Kenny would be arraigned in the morning, charged with two counts of first-degree murder, one count of second-degree murder, four counts of attempted murder, and one count of arson. There were some other charges pending, one having to do with the possession of an illegal firearm, but by the time the entire list had been read, Sophie’s mind had shut down. All she knew was that Kenny would get what was coming to him, and Harry was a free man.

The only problem that still concerned her was Nathan. It was possible, even likely, that he would be charged as an accessory after the fact to George’s murder.

“Do you think Nathan will end up in prison?” asked Sophie, sitting up straight and finishing the last of her cold coffee.

Bram didn’t say anything for almost a minute. Finally he bent his head and replied, “I am a hopelessly flawed human being.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because, even after everything that’s happened, I’m still jealous of Nathan Buckridge.”

“Sweetheart —”

He held up his hand. “I should have told you this before we left the hotel, but I didn’t. I talked to A1 Lundquist this morning.”

“And?”

“Seems Nathan has already hired himself a lawyer. She’s negotiating to get all the charges against him dropped.”

Sophie didn’t understand. “Is that possible?”

“It’s probably some sort of plea-bargain arrangement. In return for his testimony against Kenny, he’ll be given full immunity. Or, at least, that’s what they’re asking for. Al thought he’d get it, which means he won’t do any time. Nathan will be able to open his cooking school forty miles from the hotel and be a thorn in my side for the rest of my life.”

“Honey, it’s not going to be like that.”

“He was your first love, Soph. That’s something I can never be. I came along after Norman Abnormal. As I’ve said many times before, anyone would look good next to him.” He sighed, then sat back in his chair. “The thing is, last night, when I wanted to go back into the cabin to help Arthur drag Nathan out, you said no. You wouldn’t let me. It felt like you’d chosen me over him. That really meant something to me. But this morning that same niggling sense of doubt’s still there.”

She gazed up into his gentle green eyes. How could she tell him
she
was the deeply flawed human being? He’d picked up on her ambivalence and to tell him it hadn’t been there would be to play with his sense of reality. She wouldn’t do that. None of what she’d done had been fair. And yet he was right. If a choice had to be made, she
had
chosen him over Nathan last night, and she always would. “Sweetheart, listen to me. You may not have been my first love, but you’re my last. That’s what counts. You’ve got to know how much I love you.”

Over the loudspeaker a woman’s voice announced, “We have just been informed that flight 892 from St. Louis to Minneapolis/St. Paul has been diverted to O’Hare International in Chicago. We have no further information, but as updates become available, we’ll pass them on to you.”

Bram and Sophie were on their feet in a flash and heading toward the desk. So were forty other people.

“Can’t you give us a reason?” demanded Bram.

A chorus of voices chimed in behind him.

“All I can tell you is that the plane experienced a mechanical problem shortly after takeoff,” said the TWA official. “The pilot felt it was best to divert to a closer airport.”

“What kind of mechanical problem?” asked a skinny, bespectacled young man standing next to Sophie.

“I don’t have the details,” said the woman. “If you’ll all take your seats, I promise I’ll pass on any information I receive.”

“Like hell she will,” muttered Bram, storming back to his chair.

Sophie slowly followed, fighting off an intense feeling of anxiety. She’d been sleeping poorly all week and then last night she’d barely had three hours. She needed to keep reminding herself of that fact as a way of explaining why she was reacting so emotionally. Under other circumstances, she would feel the same anxiety, but she wouldn’t be on the verge of coming apart, as she was right now.

“Are you okay?” asked Bram.

As she sat down, she could tell he was watching her. “Fine,” she said, afraid to say anything more.

“Can I get you another cup of coffee?”

“Sure. Decaf.”

“Would you rather have a drink?”

“I’d rather have my son on the ground.”

“We’ll hear something soon.”

She watched him walk over to the coffee kiosk.

Half an hour later they were still waiting. They’d barely spoken. Words seemed to make it worse, as if discussing the situation made all the terrifying possibilities more real.

Around noon Sophie got up and stood by the windows. Every few minutes a plane would land or take off. It all looked so effortless. Why couldn’t Rudy’s flight be like that? As she turned around to take another look at the
ARRIVALS
screen, she noticed that the
DELAYED
sign next to the St. Louis flight had been replaced by a flashing arrived sign. Others had noticed the change, too. Some were pointing. Some had already approached the desk. The same woman’s voice came over the loudspeaker again. “Flight 892 from St. Louis has just landed. Passengers will be deplaning through gate 31 on the red concourse. For those of you waiting for this flight, we thank you for your patience and hope that TWA may serve you again soon.”

For the first time since she’d entered the airport, Sophie relaxed.

“What do you suppose happened?” asked Biam, coming up behind her. He cupped his hands around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

They watched a 737 slowly pull up to the gate. “I don’t know,” said Sophie, crossing her hands over her chest to place them on his, “but we’re about to find out.”

Everything happened quickly after that. In a matter of minutes people were getting off, walking up the long ramp toward their friends and family. Sophie and Bram waited for their first glimpse of Rudy and John. Finally two familiar heads bobbed up the ramp. In an instant Rudy was in Sophie’s arms. She felt as if she never wanted to let him go.

Bram hugged John. Then they exchanged partners.

“God, you’re both so tan,” said Sophie, standing back, unable to take her eyes off her son. “You look wonderfid. Even more handsome than when you left.”

Rudy, who had a naturally ruddy complexion, blushed an even deeper red. “Come on, Mom. Don’t start.”

“We thought the flight had been diverted to Chicago,” said Bram as they began their long trek up the concourse to the baggage area.

“Some light kept coming on in the cabin,” said Rudy, switching his carry-on bag to his other hand. “They told us it meant there was excessive heat in the belly of the plane.”

“They didn’t tell us that right away,” said John, picking up the story. “The head flight attendant only told us about the warning light. But when the pilot finally explained what was going on, he said we were diverting to Chicago
.
But then the light went off, so they thought it was just a wiring problem. They told us we were in the clear and would be landing in Minneapolis as planned.”

Rudy nodded. “About half an hour ago the light came back on again and this time they couldn’t get it to go off. I think they were pretty worried. The flight attendants were buzzing around, but nobody was saying much.”

Sophie could feel her knees growing weak.

“You okay, Mom?” asked Rudy, glancing over at her.

“Fine.” She smiled. She really
was
fine now that he was home.

“But we landed okay,” continued John. “I don’t mind telling you, I was holding my breath for the last twenty minutes.”

“But that’s over and done with now and we’re back,” said Rudy, giving Sophie an unexpected kiss on her cheek. “So what have you two been up to while we were away?”

He clearly wanted to change the subject. That was okay with her. “Oh, not much,” she answered.

“Well, now that we’re home, we’ll liven things up.” He elbowed John in the ribs. “You guys are too staid, too calm. You need to get out of your rut, create some adventure in your lives.”

“Is that what we need?” asked Sophie.

“Absolutely. Live dangerously. It keeps the juices flowing.”

Smiling up at Bram, Sophie said, “We’ll work on it.”

Pan-Roasted Chicken in Garlic, White Wine, and Fresh Rosemary

3 tablespoons butter
3 tablespoons olive oil
4 cloves garlic, peeled but left whole
1 medium frying chicken, quartered, washed, and patted dry
A small bunch of fresh rosemary, cut into one-inch pieces (You can use 1/2 teaspoon dried rosemary, but the taste is very different)
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
3/4 cup dry white wine

After heating the butter and oil in a deep skillet on medium heat, add the garlic, then the chicken quarters, skin side down. When the chicken is browned, turn the pieces over and add the rosemary. Be careful that the garlic doesn’t burn and turn black. If this happens, take it out. But if it remains golden, leave it in. Turn the heat down if the cooking oil starts to spatter.

Once the chicken is well browned on both sides, add a sprinkling of salt, several grinds of pepper, and the wine. The wine should bubble for 2 to 3 minutes, then lower the heat until it’s just at a simmer. Cover the pan and cook slowly until the chicken is done. (A 2 1/2 pound chicken should take about 35 minutes.) Turn the chicken several times while cooking. If the cooking liquid seems to be drying up, add a couple of tablespoons of water and shake the pan to distribute.

When the chicken is done, remove it to a warm platter. Remove the garlic from the pan, as well as all but 3 tablespoons of the liquid. With the heat on high, add 2 or 3 tablespoons of water to the pan, scraping up the browned bits until you have a flavorful sauce. Adjust seasoning; pour over the chicken.

Torta di limone e ricotta

6 tablespoons soft butter
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup ricotta
3 eggs, separated
1 1/2cups flour
4 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Grated zest of one lemon
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/3 cup almonds (skinless; ground to a fine powder in a blender)
Powdered sugar for dusting

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-inch springform pan, then line the bottom with parchment paper. Grease the paper and dust with flour.

Cream the butter and sugar together, then beat in the ricotta. Next, beat in the egg yolks one at a time. Add 3 tablespoons of the flour, the lemon juice, and the zest. Sift the rest of the flour and the baking powder together and add to the mixture, beating only long enough to incorporate. Stir in the ground almonds.

Beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Fold them carefully into the batter. Turn the mixture into the pan. Bake for 45 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of the pan comes out clean. Allow the torta to cool for 10 minutes before turning out onto a rack to cool. Dust the cake with a generous amount of powdered sugar before serving.

Ellen Hart is the author of twenty-six crime novels in two different series. She is a five-time winner of the Lambda Literary Award for Best Lesbian Mystery, a three-time winner of the Minnesota Book Award for Best Popular Fiction, a three-time winner of the Golden Crown Literary Award, a recipient of the Alice B Medal, and was made an official GLBT Literary Saint at the Saints & Sinners Literary Festival in New Orleans in 2005. In 2010, Ellen received the GCLS Trailblazer Award for lifetime achievement in the field of lesbian literature.
Entertainment Weekly
named her one of the “101 Movers and Shakers in the Gay Entertainment Industry.” For the past fourteen years, Ellen has taught “An Introduction to Writing the Modern Mystery” through the The Loft Literary Center, the largest independent writing community in the nation.