Lethal Lasagna (5 page)

“No problem. How about you and I go on into the Sunday school class? The others will be here in a few minutes.”

I hate going into Sunday school late, so I was happy to follow Mrs. Haywood. We entered a room with a board nailed over the entryway with the word Adult painted upon it. “This is a nice church,” I offered, looking around at the small classroom. Unlike my Sunday school room, this one had plaques with Bible verses and pictures of nice flower arrangements on the walls. Several lace-covered round tables were clustered about the room. A bookshelf holding Bibles and what I assumed were Sunday school books sat beside the door.

“We try to make it feel like a home instead of a place to visit once a week.” She offered as she took a chair at the table.

I sat down, too. It really did feel comfortable. I noticed a small table off to one side of the room. A coffee pot with several cups sat on its surface. The aroma of fresh brew began to fill the air.

“Would you like a cup while we wait?” Mrs. Haywood offered. “It should be ready in a couple of minutes.”

“Thanks. That would be nice.”

I watched her get up and separate two Styrofoam cups from a tall stack. She opened a cabinet under the table and pulled out a tray with an assortment of condiments on it.

“Cream or sugar?”

The sound of southern gospel music filtered into the room. “No thanks. I prefer mine black.” I felt as if I were visiting the home of Mrs. Haywood instead of a new church.

She carried my cup over and offered it to me. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you find our church?”

I took a tentative sip of the hot brew. “Thank you. My friend, Mitzi Douglas, used to go here.”

“Oh yes. We miss Mitzi. She was a wonderful woman and a very loving soul.”

Well, that was one way to describe her, I suppose. I studied Mrs. Haywood over the top of my drink. When Luke and I were planning her funeral, it never entered our minds to use her church and pastor for the services. We’d simply had a graveside service with my pastor residing. Now I felt a twinge of guilt at having neglected her church family. I shook off the feeling and told myself the announcement had been in the newspaper and anyone could have attended.

“Yes, she was.” I finally answered. The music stopped.

Mrs. Haywood set down her cup and tilted her head to the side. After a couple of seconds, she smiled at me. “The rest of the class will be here in a moment. Before they arrive I want to welcome you into our church. I hope you will like it here.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. She seemed so sincere in her invitation. “Thank you, I’m sure I will.”

Couples began to arrive, some young, some old, some at an age I couldn’t define. I watched each one with the question, Could that person know who killed Mitzi? running through my head.

Several came over and introduced themselves, and then went and found a seat at one of the round tables. They were all very warm and friendly, but I was glad to see the instructor finally stand at the front of the room to begin the lesson.

Only she didn’t. She asked the age-old question. “Do we have any visitors today?” Why do they do that? She knew she’d never seen me before, at least I didn’t think she had and yet, she asked the question.

Mrs. Haywood raised her hand. “I’d like to introduce Claire Parker. She’s a friend of Mitzi’s.”

The instructor brought a lesson book to me. “We’re glad you could make it, Mrs. Parker.”

All eyes were upon me.

“Thank you.”

She nodded and then returned to the front. I sighed with relief and made a pretense of looking for today’s date in the book.

It was your normal class. Prayer requests, prayer, and then the lesson. I smiled at the subject of our discussion, God Is Love, So What? I’m never good at just listening to someone else read to me, and I found myself speed reading through the lesson.

The creaking of the door opening caught my attention. I wondered who the latecomer was and felt thankful it wasn’t me.

Brandon Harvest apologized for being late. His gaze met mine and then the cad winked. While he took a seat, heat consumed my face.

TITLE

The minister finished his sermon and then said. “Before you leave, allow me to make a couple of announcements. The annual baseball game and picnic are next Sunday. So plan to come and stay for the afternoon fun. Also, Ladies, I understand from my lovely wife that you are putting together a scrapbook cookbook. She asked me to remind you to arrive Tuesday night at six and bring your scrapbook supplies and recipes. The proceeds will go toward sending the ladies on a women’s autumn retreat. Well, I think that’s it. I hope to see you all back here at six tonight. Let’s pray.”

I tried to focus on the prayer but my thoughts kept returning to the last announcement. The ladies were working on a cookbook? Was it possible one of them had a killer lasagna recipe?

“Amen.”

Could one of these sweet ladies have disliked Mitzi enough to poison her? I gathered my things and stepped out into the aisle.

People pressed in on all sides. A husky voice whispered in my ear. “It was good to see you here this morning.” Brandon placed his hand in the center of my back as we made our way to the exit.

The warmth of his palm traveled through the thin sweater. “Why didn’t you tell me you and Mitzi attended the same church?” I whispered back.

“You didn’t ask me.”

I wanted to scream. “You knew I would be here today.”

“I hope you enjoyed our services.” A woman said as she entered the aisle beside me.

I smiled and tried to ignore the warmth creeping up my spine and into my hair. “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

“Then maybe you’ll come again.” The woman beamed happily.

I met her grin with one of my own. “Actually, I’m interested in coming Tuesday for the cookbook class. Do you attend that?”

If it were possible, I believe her smile grew even wider. “Oh yes, we just started last month but it has been so much fun.” She now stood in front of the minister.

“I’ll be looking for you.” She offered before turning her full attention on the pastor. “That was a wonderful message, Pastor Haywood.”

“Why thank you, Sister Williams. I’m glad it touched your heart. I hope you’re coming to the picnic. I’m looking forward to a sample of your homemade apple pie next week.” He released her hand and smiled.

“I’ll be here and I’ll bring my recipe for that sweet little wife of yours.” She hurried out the door.

Then the preacher turned to me.

“Pastor, I’d like you to meet Claire Parker.” Brandon spoke around me.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. I hope you come back tonight.”

What do you say when a man of God asks you to come back to church? I found myself saying, “I’m looking forward to it.” I wonder if people burn in hell for saying the first thing they know is expected of them.

Only if you lied. That inner voice taunted. Sometimes I wonder how much of that voice is from God and how much of it is me? In this case, I knew it was God.

Brandon must have sensed my confusion. He shook hands with the minister, and then tucked my hand through his arm and led me out to the parking lot. The dark skies still hovered overhead but thankfully the rain had stopped. When we stood beside his pick up, he released me. “How about some lunch, as friends of course?”

“Mrs. Parker! Mrs. Parker!”

I turned to find Mrs. Haywood running toward us. She held my soiled clothes in her arms. “You forgot these.” She panted.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Thank you. I’ll return these tonight.” I motioned to the borrowed clothes I had on and then took the offered dress.

She smiled. “That will be fine. But, before you get away, I’d like to ask you to join us at Braums. It’s just a few of us that get together each week.” She held her side as if she’d developed a painful stitch.

Braums is a hamburger and ice cream restaurant. If I agreed to eat with them, I’d avoid having a private meal with Brandon. I’m not sure why I felt the need to keep some distance between us but I did. Maybe it was the thought that he’d been closer to Mitzi than I cared to think about. “I’d love to join you.” I answered.

“Oh, good. We always meet at the one on Fifth and Main Street.”

“I’ll bring her.” Brandon’s deep voice pulled my gaze up to his. Once more his knowing eyes twinkled down at me.

“That would be wonderful. We’ll only be a few moments. I think the Kellys will be joining us, too.” She turned and walked back to the church.

He opened the passenger door of his truck. “I’m glad you accepted our invitation. I’d like for you to get to know my church family.” His smile gave me a warm feeling deep in my stomach.

I slid onto the seat of the truck. The scent of leather cleaner filled my nostrils.

Brandon shut my door and hurried around to the other side. He waved at several families as we pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. We rode in silence for several long moments. As he pulled into the parking lot, he asked. “How’s the investigation going?”

“I’ve just started.”

A soft chuckled came from his side of the cab, “So in other words, you haven’t learned anything?”

“Not a thing.” I admitted, staring at a large poster of a banana split that hung on the storefront window.

He shut off the motor and turned to face me. “Did I hear you tell Mrs. Williams you’re going to start going to the women’s meetings?”

I unfastened my seatbelt. “I thought I might.” I moved to exit the vehicle. My nerves were already a bundle of jumping grasshoppers. I could feel them deep in the pit of my stomach.

His hand covered mine on the seat. “Wait. The others won’t be here for a while. I’d like to talk.”

I tugged my tingling hand away and rested it in my lap. “About what?” My gaze met his once more.

“I was serious when I offered to help find Mitzi’s murderer.” He paused. “Are you going to allow me to, or not?”

What was he talking about? “I thought you were helping me. Aren’t you going to find out who the mystery writers are in your class?”

“I want to do more.” He confessed. “It makes me nervous knowing you are determined to find a killer.”

It was such a sweet thing to say, and from the expression on his features, I knew he meant every word. “I’m not in any danger. But if it will make you feel better I’ll keep you posted on what I’m doing next.”

He nodded. “And that is?”

“I’m going to start at the ladies cookbook night.” I couldn’t remember the exact name for it so waved my hand and said, “You know, that cookbook thingy.”

His laughter filled the truck. “You have got to be kidding. What makes you think someone from church hated Mitzi so much that they’d kill her?”

Why do men have to act like jerkalopes? “If I don’t check how will I know? Just because someone goes to church doesn’t make him or her perfect. The newspapers prove that every day.” I had a strong urge to wipe that expression of glee off his face.

“Ok, ok.” He held up his hands and continued laughing.

Now, I wanted to shoot him. If he could read my thoughts, he’d know that good, God-fearing people have these impulses to kill at a moment’s notice. Not that I ever would.

“I’m serious. You don’t know what triggered Mitzi’s murderer to kill her. It could have been anything. Think about it. Lots of people are surprised at what their friends and neighbors do.” I felt my cheeks and neck growing hotter and hotter.

He sobered. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just find it hard to believe someone from my church would do such a thing.” His expression turned somber and all my hot air flew out the window like a deflated balloon.

He turned and stared out the window.

I reached out and touched his arm. “Well, you are probably right.”

Still he stared as if deep in thought. Made me wonder if I’d awakened some deeply buried memory.

“I’ll probably just come home with some great, easy, old fashioned recipes.”

His attention returned. He patted my hand. “Let’s hope so.”

I smiled. Whatever had clouded his thoughts a few moments ago had vanished with the thought of food. “If I’m lucky, maybe Mrs. Williams will share her apple pie recipe with us.”

He laughed once more. “Don’t bet on it. She’s been promising that recipe to the pastor for years.”

I enjoyed the sound of his rich merriment. As we entered the restaurant, I wondered if Mrs. Williams used Sara Lee’s recipe. Probably. It had been my secret recipe for years.

****

Lunch had been nice but it felt good to be home and out of those heels. They were blue and new. Deadly combination. And the fact that they clashed with the black sweater and red skirt only added to my misery. That and the knowledge that I had to return to church tonight. Not that I didn’t love going to church, but my feet hurt so much right now, I dreaded forcing them into shoes later.

I took a quick warm shower, put on my flannel PJs, and crawled into bed for a quick nap. Dreams of Brandon as a little boy haunted my sleep. His face filled with sorrow begged me to comfort him. He’d held out his arms to me and cried. Anger filled his eyes when I couldn’t reach him fast enough. The little boy kicked and screamed. My heart ached for the child that I knew was Brandon. Then, the face changed from the child’s to the man’s. I saw the same distracted look that I’d seen earlier in the parking lot at Braums. I reached out to comfort him and found cold air. I awoke with a start.

It had seemed so real. He’d been so alone and sorrowful. What did I know about the man? I counted the things I knew on one hand. One, he’s a professor. Two, he goes to church. I tossed off the covers and padded to the kitchen.

I needed to know more. Something warm to drink might help. I filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. My favorite mug sat by the sink. I pulled it close while my thoughts ran in circles trying to figure out ways to learn about the handsome Brandon Harvest.

Sprocket barked. I walked through the living room and then out onto the porch. In the far corner of the yard I could see his shaggy body. He stared up into the tree. My gaze followed his. Sara’s orange tabby cat sat on the branch closest to the ground—but far enough away from Sprocket to be safe—daintily licking its paws.

The teakettle whistled. I returned to the kitchen and turned off the burner, then added homemade sugar-free hot chocolate mix to my mug. The scent of rich cocoa surrounded me as I poured the hot water over the mixture. Maybe I’d take it as my recipe for the cookbook.

My thoughts returned to investigating Brandon. Would Megan know where to begin? I picked up the phone to call her, and then paused. What would she think of her mother investigating the background of...I replaced the phone. On second thought, I wouldn’t ask for her help. Too many questions, and sometimes she forgets I’m the mama and she’s the child.

I took a tentative sip of the cocoa. The thought came to me to ask Detective Howard, but it left as swiftly as it arrived. The good policeman would haul Brandon in for questioning and then how would that look? It’d probably kill whatever relationship we might have.

Didn’t want to do that.

I shook my head as I returned to the bedroom to get dressed for church, again. “Nope, definitely don’t want to mess up this relationship.”

TITLE