Climate Change: A Nina Bannister Mystery (The Nina Bannister Mysteries Book 7) (36 page)

Both sisters in unison:

“
I Dismember Mummy
! There will be a Kindle version!”

“Wonderful.”

“Good bye now!”

And so saying, the psychic sisters turned and left.

To be replaced by Rebeccah Thornwhipple.

White-haired, spry, and laughing-eyed as always, she tottled up to the table and sat in one of the vacant chairs, laying her cane on the ground.

She wore a sweater much like the one she’d arrived in, but the front of this one showed one end of an iron lung, with two pair of feet extending from it, and bright red hearts swimming in the air around it.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you ladies!”

The ladies laughed and told her that she was not.

She smiled.

“It has been such a pleasure staying here with the two of you!”

“The pleasure,” said Margot, “was all ours.”

“And it’s a shame about Ms. Roberts. Mr. Amboise, too, but in his case––he was such a––I don’t know precisely what word to use.”

“No,” answered Margot, shaking her head.

“Shit. He was such a shit.”

Nods around the table.

Rebeccah Thornwhipple continued:

“And I must say, Ms. Bannister, that I do regret accusing you of murder.”

Nina merely shook her head:

“I wouldn’t think twice about it, Ms. Thornwhipple.”

“Rebeccah.”

“Rebeccah. No, I wouldn’t worry about it. One gets accused of murder so often these days––”

“But it can be a bother, I know.”

“Only if you let it.”

“I am, of course, still going to write the novel.”

“That’s all right. I’m sure no one will connect the murderess with me.”

“I’m using your name.”

“Oh. What are you going to call it?”

“
Nina Bannister:
 
Murderess
.”

“Well, okay, they might make that connection. Are you going to put in the mad passionate stinking sex?”

“Of course.”

“What chapter will it be in?”

“Chapters five through eleven.”

“What a charming tribute! And to think:
 
whatever happens to me, the novel will endure, and I’ll be remembered.”

“Yes, my dear. It’s the only kind of immortality we have. But wheels are already in motion for both the novel and the film version. I spoke with my agent this morning. He’s already spoken with Betty White.”

“Damn,” said Nina, quietly.

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. Ms. White feels that the part should be played by a much older woman.”

“Rebeccah,” interjected Margot, who wished to change the subject because Nina’s fists were clenching, “I’m glad you got a novel out of this, and I’m very proud that my friend will go down in literary history as a sex-starved homicidal maniac.”

“It’s the least I could do, given all your hospitality.”

“But I’m sorry you didn’t get the HBO Award. And I hope you and the rest of the cozy writers won’t be holding it against Nina. After all, she won’t be getting the award either, from what I’ve been hearing.”

“I know. And as for who’s going to receive it, here come the two people who might be able to tell us that!”

And she was indeed correct, for Harriet Crossman was approaching the table, arm and arm with Professor Brighton Dunbury, who shouted, breezily:

“Hello, the table!”

And the table shouted back:

“Hello, the Dunbury! Hello, the Crossman!”

Handshakes and hugs, laughter and frolic.

The two newcomers were seated, and Harriet Crossman said:

“Well, I’ve just had what seems to be the final word. Fields, Edelstein and Morgan have negotiated the contract.”

“Fields,” Nina asked, “Edelstein and Morgan? Weren’t those Amboise’ big time agents?”

“Yes. They all flew down yesterday to negotiate Amboise’ contract with HBO. But then they found out he’d been killed and they found out how and they contacted Molly Badger and found out how she’d committed the perfect murder—two murders actually—and then they talked with Sylvia Duncan and all four of them called HBO and the long and short of it is Molly has the contract.”

“Molly,” asked Nina, “is going to be the next Jessica? Just like she predicted?”

“Yes, little Molly Badger. Apparently, she’d already written several novels with the same heroine––electronic genius Polly Nutria. They’d been rejected due to unbelievable murder methods.”

“But since the methods have now been proven believable––”

“Exactly. Hollywood is clambering for more of them, and Molly is at the best hotel in Vicksburg, signing contracts”

“Fields, Edelstein and Morgan aren’t concerned that she’s not being prosecuted for the murder of Garth Amboise?”

“No. Apparently they didn’t know what a terrible, selfish, arrogant, me-first person he really was.”

“But they must have worked with him before!”

“Yes, but that was in New York City, and he just seemed to be like everyone else.”

“I see.”

Silence for a time.

Then Brighton Dunbury:

“Actually, I must admit: I owe Ms. Badger a great deal.”

“In what way?” asked Nina.

“Well, I was resigned to having lost my dear Harriet. And after a great many wonderful years of being lovers.”

Harriet blushed.

“It was completely my fault,” said Harriet. “I was enamored by Amboise.”

“And,” added Nina, “his resume.”

It was Brighton Dunbury’s turn to blush.

“Of course, I have a resume too, my dear. But it’s much shorter than Amboise’ was.”

Harriet chucked him under the chin and said:

“We’ll lengthen it out.”

“I shall look forward to that,” he said, squeezing her shoulder.

“Oh, you’re a very bad man!”

“No, I’m a very
good
man––”

Nina completed his thought:

I’m just a bad wizard
.

But instead, he said:

“I’m a very
good
man; I’m just a bad cozy writer.”

Brighton Dunbury and Harriet Crossman said their good byes and made their way toward the waiting cars. But they themselves were replaced by a beaming couple, who brought with them a large red cake pan.

“We’ve been in your kitchen all morning!” shouted Pat Hershey.

Her husband:

“We’ve baked our soft and chewy chocolate chip cookies. Just as kind of a thank you present for how gracious you’ve been to us!”

Margot stood, smiled broadly, and said:

“We owe both of you a lot. If you hadn’t discovered the tunnel, there wouldn’t have been a plausible theory of the crime, so that the case could be closed. And how wonderful to have the cookies! I love soft and chewy chocolate chip cookies, and I know my guests will, too. Could I possibly have your recipe for soft and chewy chocolate chip cookies?”

“Well, Jim and I have had a dilemma in our kitchen for a few months,” Pat Hershey began. “A cookie dilemma. You see, I’m a fan of cookies that have a slight crunch to them. Meanwhile, my husband is a major fan of cookies that are soft and chewy. I’m talking completely soft and chewy with no crunch whatsoever. I’ve been experimenting with cookies over the past few months as I change up the ingredients, use different baking sheets, adjust the baking time Whatever I did, I noticed that every cookie that came out of the oven wasn’t making Jim completely happy. Yes, he got his soft and chewy cookie after dunking the slightly crunchy cookies in milk. However, I knew that secretly he was craving a cookie that was soft and chewy without the use of milk.

“I’m excited to announce the dilemma has ended. How? I got rid of the brown sugar!

“I was craving cookies one night so I took inventory of the ingredients I had in my kitchen. I quickly realized that I didn’t have brown sugar. After being worried for a few minutes, I decided to run with it and see what I could create without one of my favorite ingredients.

“After mixing, incorporating, and folding the batter, I noticed that it was light––not only in color––but also in texture. When trying to form balls of dough, the batter seemed to be a bit on the sticky side. I questioned it for a minute but then had the courage to put the baking sheets in the oven as, yet again, another experiment.

“I set the timer, walked away, returned to the kitchen, flipped on the oven light, and watched the cookies rise and turn a light golden brown. I cooled them on the cookie sheet and, while transferring them to the wire rack, decided to take a little nibble.

“Oh, my word! Mission
Soft and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies––
accomplished!” she exclaimed rapturously.

“I immediately began counting down the minutes until Jim returned home, as these cookies taunted me from the kitchen. When he got home, we sat down with a plate full of cookies and glasses full of milk. After his first bite, I tried to explain how I’d made them but was quickly interrupted by him as he closed his eyes, let out a sigh of relief and happiness, and said, “Please don’t talk. These cookies need my full attention.” Yes, they are that good! Words can’t even describe just how
soft
and
chewy
they are.” The blissful look on Jim Hershey’s face echoed his wife’s, as she described their cookie orgy in erotic detail.

“I now understands my husband’s love of soft and chewy cookies,” concluded Pat, recovering a bit from her trance-like state. “I don’t think I will ever look at crunchy cookies the same.”

Pat handed Margot a sheet of paper, saying:

“Here it is for you, Ms. Gavin, and all your guests—and, of course, our readers––to share!”

So saying, she handed Margot the following recipe:

Pat and Jim’s Soft and Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients:

1 cup (2 sticks) butter, softened
    
3/4 cup granulated sugar

2 eggs
                                           
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
          
1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt
                           
2 cups milk chocolate chips

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Prepare a baking sheet with parchment paper.