The Big Chili (22 page)

“Because Shelby told me that you sometimes walked Hank Dixon's dog. Which meant you had access to his house and could plant the evidence that they used to arrest him.”

Ellie gasped, then gulped some more water. Mick moved closer to me.

“What I'd like to know,” I said, “is why you wrote on my house. Why you threatened me. I'm not your enemy, Harmonia. I never have been.”

She said nothing.

“I assume that was you? Dressed as a monk? I'm sure I
can get the police to ask around to see if you were wearing that particular costume that night.”

Harmonia looked surprised. “Someone saw me? I never saw a soul.”

“A very clever little someone who happened to pick up the scent of your paint in the darkness.”

She shrugged. “That was nothing. I was just jealous. You were spending a lot of time with Pet, and she was acting as if she liked being with you more than she did her own sisters. I just wanted to scare you. It was just a distraction. Nothing to get all upset about.”

Ellie and I exchanged a glance. Apparently we differed with Harmonia about what would make someone upset.

“And I suppose that was you the other night? Lurking around my house in the dark?”

“What?” She looked genuinely surprised; then again, I was clearly terrible at reading faces.

“Fine. You wanted to scare me on Halloween. Did you also want to
scare
Alice Dixon?”

Harmonia's eyes darted around the room. Then she took a little bag out of her pocket and went over to my stove. She picked up my teakettle, filled it with water, and turned on the heat. “Let's have some tea,” she said.

That silenced me for a moment, and I exchanged a confused glance with Ellie. “Why Alice, Harmonia?”

She sighed. “She wasn't supposed to die. She was supposed to get sick, very sick. That's what my Internet research said. I didn't think I'd put in enough to kill her.” She shrugged again, as if the light dosage cleansed her of a murder charge. “But if Alice got sick, I figured she'd give up on all her
destructive little projects. And Bert—poor guy—he just got too close to the truth. Pet told me. It's not hard, to be honest, to poison someone. It's oddly easy.”

“And you just figured if you left some cyanide in Hank Dixon's house and then called in an anonymous tip, then that would take care of everything, right?”

Harmonia giggled, and I felt a bolt of fear shoot through me. “It worked, didn't it? They went straight to his house, and he's in jail.”

“And you're okay with sending an innocent man to jail?”

She shook her head, her face regretful. “That's the dilemma I'm in now. I like Hank—everyone likes Hank. He's a good man, a good parishioner. But obviously I don't want to go to jail, so we're just going to drink some tea and talk this out. Okay?”

She smiled at Ellie and me and I realized, looking at her slightly unfocused eyes, that Harmonia was not a rational person. Therefore, reasoning with her was not an option. I sent a warning look to Ellie and said, “That sounds good. I take two sugars in my tea.”

Harmonia nodded. “You two sit down right there at the counter and I'll serve.”

She lifted the little bag she'd brought with her and put it near my sugar bowl. Then she began opening drawers. “Where do you keep the teaspoons? Oh, here they are.” She actually hummed while she worked. She had a pretty singing voice, which made the situation more surreal; Ellie stared at her, wide-eyed, seemingly reaching the same conclusion about Harmonia that I had just reached. It was amazing, really, that the woman thought she could poison both of us while
we stood there watching, and that she would sing to us before our deaths.

“Yes, I like sugar in mine, too,” Ellie said.

“Perfect,” said Harmonia, her hands busy at the counter. She had found mugs and teabags and was now laying them all out, preparing them for the boiling water. “It will be ready in no time. So what should we talk about?”

Before I could say a word, Ellie lunged forward and cracked her water glass against the side of Harmonia's head. The glass broke, cutting Ellie's hand and Harmonia's ear. Harmonia screamed and grabbed the side of her head. Blood trickled onto the floor.

“I'll kill you!” Harmonia yelled. “I'll kill you both! And then I'll say you killed each other!”

She dove at Ellie and the two women began grappling. I dove low and pulled at Harmonia's legs, yanking her away from Ellie, and then I threw myself on top of her, trying to pin her hands, but not before Harmonia punched me in the eye.

“Ouch,” I yelled. “Mick, help me out here!” I said.

Mick moved forward, menacing as a wolf, and placed his sharp dog teeth on either side of Harmonia's neck. He must have exerted pressure, because Harmonia went limp.

Parker burst in a moment later to find Harmonia on the floor, her hands bound behind her with Mick's leash and Mick still holding her by the throat. Ellie was running her bloody hand beneath some water at the faucet, and I was icing my black eye.

“Ladies,” Parker said, ever polite.

*   *   *

A
WHOLE SLEW
of people came to escort Harmonia away, including Grimaldi, who looked relieved. Perhaps she, too, thought that Hank Dixon's arrest had seemed too convenient. Terry and Britt showed up, looking pale and bemused at the sight of all the police cars in their driveway. I assured them I was fine, and then they stood right outside my house like the guardians that they were, answering questions for the police and, eventually, the reporters. Finally, finally, they all left.

Parker stayed behind. He had wrapped his mother's hand in gauze and was now examining my eye, which had turned an interesting shade of yellow. “Poor thing,” he said, kissing my eyebrow.

Ellie made a startled sound, then said, “Aha!”

I looked over and laughed at her triumphant expression. “I would have told you about us today when you came over, except a murderess was standing on my stoop and distracting me.”

“Well, I'm glad to know it,” Ellie said, her face smug.

Parker looked annoyed. “Yes, Mother, your obvious plot to bring us together had the desired result.”

I stared at him, then at Ellie. “You did, didn't you? You set us up! Having me come there with my delivery and then asking Jay to come at the same time—and then disappearing! Oh, Ellie, really!”

She smiled, not at all apologetic. “I knew you two would be the perfect couple. And I was right. No need to thank me.”

I laughed and started to hug Parker, but he pulled away from me and walked to the door. He stood there looking out, his back to us. “What do you mean, you were making a delivery? You told me you cleaned my mother's house.”

Ellie snorted. “Jacob Ellison Parker, would you take off the detective hat? How dare you grill your own girlfriend? In case you didn't realize it, someone tried to kill her today, and kill your mother!”

Jay turned back, his face blank. “Did you lie to me, Lilah? What were you . . .” He looked around my kitchen and then slapped his head. “Of course. I'm an idiot. You made the food. You delivered the food. And you couldn't tell me because—”

Ellie snorted. “Because I didn't want her to. Lilah has a thriving business making delicious food for people who would like their families to . . . think otherwise. I didn't want you and your brothers to know that I can't make it anymore. Not as often. Those big, heavy pans, and all that cutting. It hurts too much.”

Jay's face looked pained, then regretful. “I'm sorry, Mom. Your secret is safe with me. I love your cooking, and I love Lilah's, too. Tom and Eric never have to know.”

Ellie sniffed. “Lilah is a wizard. You're lucky to have her, you know.”

“I know,” Parker said, but his expression was still quizzical.

“Listen,” I told him. “I'm not going to lie to you anymore. But this was your mother's secret to reveal, not mine. My whole business is based on discretion, Jay. That's why I felt so bad, every time you asked me, and every time I wanted to tell you—”

“Tell me what?”

His eyes narrowed, and I knew that I might be ruining everything, but better now than later, when I was even more in love. . . .

“I made the chili for Pet Grandy. The chili that Alice Dixon ate.”

“
You
made it.” Parker's eyes grew wide and his face reddened. Something moved in his jaw.

“Oh, here we go,” Ellie said.

“You do realize, Lilah, that it wasn't for you to decide whether that information was pertinent or not? It wasn't for you to claim ‘discretion' when a woman had died eating your food! And you stood in front of me and lied, again and again! Even after I told you how much I hated it when people lied to the police. You still withheld that information.”

“By then it was too late—you would have hated me.”

“And why did that matter?”

“Because I liked you,” I said.

Parker shook his head, his eyes wide. “It wasn't about you or me,” he said. “It was about a dead woman and what was right.”

“Jay, listen to yourself! Don't be sanctimonius,” Ellie said, her voice stern. “You're being an ass. Leave the girl alone. Why are you being so hard on Lilah?”

His eyes were on mine. “Because I thought she was honest,” he said. “And that's what I liked best about her.”

“Jay,” I said, hating the moisture that filled my eyes. “I don't know what to say.”

“I have to go,” he said. “I have reports to file.” He opened the door and went outside, and my heart broke for the second time in my life.

“I can't seem to hold on to a guy,” I said lightly. I turned to Ellie and burst into tears, and she pulled me into a warm hug.

“Honey, he's just pouting. It always did take him a while
to get over a perceived injustice. You just have to give him time. He—he has a thing about honesty.”

“I'm not a dishonest person,” I said, sobbing into her ear.

“Don't cry, sweetheart. It will all work out. Didn't I tell you I thought you were the perfect couple?”

Mick rustled at our feet, and even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was nodding.

T
he next morning my whole family, including Serafina, crowded into my small kitchen and served me breakfast. Cam had pulled in a couple of extra chairs and we sat on either side of my breakfast nook. They all did an admirable job of ignoring my red, swollen eyes, and the fact that one of them was puffy and bruised.

“Listen to this,” said Cam, reading from the
Pine Haven Gazette
. “‘Grandy was finally cornered at the home of local resident Lilah Drake, whom Grandy had been threatening at the time of her apprehension. “Ms. Drake was instrumental, not only in bringing Harmonia Grandy's suspicious activities to the attention of the police, but in clearing the name of the man who had been falsely arrested,” said Detective Inspector Jacob Parker of the Pine Haven Police Department. “We
cannot stress enough that Lilah Drake behaved heroically in a highly stressful circumstance.”'”

Cam looked at me triumphantly. “Check that out! Now the whole town will be asking about this heroic woman. And it certainly sounds to me like Jay Parker admires you immensely.”

I shrugged, pushing my eggs around on my plate. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother make her concerned face to my father. “He has to say that in his official capacity. What's he going to do? Tell the whole town that he's disgusted by me?”

My mother got up and said, “Serafina, would you help me with these dishes? And Dan, maybe you can sweep Lilah's floor,” she said to my father. “Lilah, honey, go in the living room with your brother and relax.”

Here we go
, I thought. My parents knew that Cameron had always been the most successful at drawing me out of my brief depressions, usually because he made me laugh. Cameron had almost single-handedly helped me to get over the Angelo slump, and my mother was placing the burden on him once again.

Cam came to my chair and practically dragged me out of it. “Come on, kid. Let's see what's on TV.”

“Cam, you don't have to do this,” I said. “I just need some time.”

We walked into the living room and Cam pushed me onto the couch. I lay there without moving. “Uh, yes, I do have to do it. Terry and Britt told me they tried to come out and see you last night, but they couldn't be heard over the loud strains of ‘Some Enchanted Evening,' which you had playing on a loop.”

“It's a great song. I was in
South Pacific
in high school, remember? I was Nellie Forbush.”

Cam smiled. “I remember, Li. You were good. And that's a very romantic song.”

I sighed. “It's about finding the right person and not letting him go. That's how I feel. He was the right person.”

“There is no one right person,” Cam said angrily. “If he doesn't appreciate you, then you move on.”

“Really? So you could move on after Serafina?”

His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay. But, Lilah, the guy was too hard on you. You were stressed out. You saw a woman murdered in front of you. If you made some bad decisions, then he can get over it.”

I sighed. “Cam, remember when I broke up with Angelo? Do you remember what I told you?”

“That he was an asshole?”

A watery laugh escaped me. “I told you that I couldn't ever trust someone who had lied to me. I said that since he hadn't told me the truth about another woman, I would never know if he was telling me the truth again. That's how Parker feels.”

“It's not the same. You didn't sleep with some other guy and tell Parker you didn't.”

“No. But what I'm saying is, we really
are
well suited, because I care about honesty, too. I'm an honest person, Cam. And now I've lied to the police, and to the one man who made me think life was pretty darn great.”

“So what are you going to do now? Listen to show tunes and make yourself cry?”

“Yes.”

“Lilah.”

I said nothing. I hugged a pillow against myself and willed Cam to leave.

“Lilah.”
He put his face in front of mine, so close I could smell his breakfast. “Call him.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have nothing to say. I lied. He knows it. That's it.”

“You could say you miss him.”

“I guess. It won't do any good. If he wanted me, he'd be here.”

Cam touched my black eye with a delicate finger. “You poor kid. You've been through so much this last month. But you know what? It's over now.”

“Yes. It's over now,” I said bleakly.

Cam sighed. “Lilah, call him or I will.”

I laughed again. “What would you say?
My sister likes you and you need to come to her house
?”

My brother looked determined. “I'd say that thanks to him my sister had spent the night crying, and that he had better work it out with her before I decided to kick his ass.”

“That sounds okay,” I joked.

Cam pointed at the stairs. “Call him, Lilah. I'm not kidding.”

“Fine.” I went to the stairs and climbed up to my loft room, carefully shutting the door. Then I grabbed my cell, let out a deep sigh, and dialed Parker's home number. I got his voice mail, a fact for which I was intensely grateful. He said some terse words and then there was a beep.

“Hi, Jay, it's me. I just wanted to say—I'm sorry I let you down. And that I miss you. I miss cooking for you. And if
you ever wanted to wander over some night and let me feed you again—maybe we could start over. I know how you feel, because I broke up with someone over the same principle. But I'm not a liar, and I'm telling the truth when I say I like you a lot, and I think you're pretty great at what you do. Anyway, this is the only time I'm going to call, so don't worry that I'll harass you. I just—anyway . . . Good-bye, Jay.”

I hung up and turned on my iPod. Rossano Brazzi was singing “This Nearly Was Mine.” Mick was scratching at my door, and I let him in. Normally he slept in his own basket, but now he jumped right up on my bed with me. “I'm too old for this, Mick. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager.”

Mick nodded, and Rossano sang sweetly of the beautiful love he'd almost had.

*   *   *

W
HEN
I
WENT
down about an hour later my family was gone; I was sure Cam had persuaded them to leave me alone.

My mother had made me a sandwich and left it under plastic wrap. There was a little note there from her, asking me to call her later and telling me to value myself.

I smiled and unwrapped the sandwich. It was delicious—ham and swiss on rye. I tore open a bag of potato chips and grabbed a Diet Coke, then took my food to the counter. When the phone rang, I jumped and shot potato chips across the room. Mick obligingly siphoned them up.

I answered on the third ring with a tentative hello.

“Hello, Lilah. It's Pet.”

“Oh, Pet. I'm so sorry. What you must think of me.”

“Of
you
? What are you talking about? My sister tried to
kill you. I have been trying to get up the courage to call you and apologize for Harmonia—for our whole family—and to ask your forgiveness.”

“Pet—don't cry.”

“We should have seen it. We should have known. But how could we? She was our family member. Maybe we were too close to it. They said—she's going to need medication. That she has paranoid delusions.”

“Oh my. I'm sorry, Pet.”

“But maybe it will mean she'll get some help, rather than be sent to some prison far away. I don't know. What I know is that she killed people—two good people who I cared about—and she tried to kill you. I can't get over it—she knew you were my good friend, and yet she tried to kill you. And now she's ruined our friendship forever!”

“Pet, you're still my friend. And I'm sure you and I will still make chili together for years to come. Right?”

“I'm so glad to hear you say that, Lilah. You're such a good person. A truly good person, and that's why I'm so glad we're friends.”

“Me, too, Pet. And I'm sorry about Harmonia. I know how hard it must be on your family.”

“Father Schmidt is with us. He's helping us through. And he said that wherever Harmonia ends up, he'll be able to visit her as her personal chaplain. That brought us a lot of comfort, because she loves him so much. He'll help her to atone for what she's done—he'll help her to see the sin of it, and to be sorry.”

“That's a good thing. Pet—can I ask you—the other night, I thought I saw you walking around near my house. Was that you?”

“Oh. Well, yes. I was going to talk to you, but then I saw
a police car outside your house and it made me nervous. I didn't want them suspecting me of anything.”

“What did you want?”

“It's funny to say now, but—I was thinking we could branch out and make something new. Always with the chili as a fail-safe. But I wanted people to know that I could make other things. Even though I can't make anything at all.”

I laughed, and Pet joined me. Our laughter was at least three parts relief.

“I'll talk to you soon, Pet. We'll think about those new recipes.”

“Good-bye, Lilah. Thank you. And I'm sorry,” said Perpetua Grandy.

I hung up and saw the light blinking on my answering machine; I had heard the call waiting beep while I spoke to Pet, but I obviously wasn't going to interrupt her to speak to another caller. Now I clicked a button and heard Parker's voice.

“Lilah. I just got your call. Thank you. It was good to hear from you. I hope you're doing okay and that black eye looks a little better today. I just wanted to say—I miss you, too. The other night, in your kitchen—we had a real connection. But I'm going to need a little time, just to work some things out inside myself. I hope you can understand that. There's a part of me that doesn't even understand it, but—hell, I'm leaving the worst message ever. Anyway, thanks for the invitation. Take care.”

And a
click
.

I listened to it eight times, and then I grew sick of myself and my teenage mooning.

“Mick, let's go for a walk,” I said.

*   *   *

A
WEEK LATER
I had not heard from Parker. I did not expect to hear from him ever again. I had started back into my routine: work at the real estate office in the day, deliveries to clandestine clients on nights and weekends. It was all fine, and I was fine. Life just didn't seem as pretty as it had before, but that was the reality of relationships.

In the evening I continued to listen to scratchy recordings of Rossano Brazzi singing about lost love. No one had ever sung those songs the way he did. Back in high school, when I was immersing myself in
South Pacific
as an earnest young thespian, I had listened to the movie sound track, starring soulful Rossano Brazzi and spunky Mitzi Gaynor, over and over. Although Brazzi played the role of a Frenchman, he was clearly an Italian. In the process of listening to the CD, I'd fallen in love with Brazzi's voice, and it remained my gauge for romance. Perhaps that's why I'd been attracted to Angelo—because with his Italian accent and good looks, he was my modern-day Brazzi, young again and ready to fall in love with me. Except that Angelo was real and flawed, and Brazzi had been playing out a fiction for my romantic soul.

Now I walked with Mick down a November-gray street, wet with recent rain. There's something lovely about November, despite its bare trees and sad gray skies. It is a reminder of the solemnities of life, and its starkness is as satisfying as stripped-down wood, as honest as a haiku. This weather, this season, made me want to be honest, as well. I faced the fact that I was twenty-seven and unlucky in love, but blessed with a good family, some solid talents, and a healthy enough constitution that I would probably live for many more decades.
It was time for me to take control. I told Mick this as we walked, and he seemed to approve.

By the time we returned to Dickens Street and our beloved home, we were in a good place. I had “Blackbird,” one of my dad's favorite Beatles tunes, floating melodically in my head. I liked it, especially the part about learning to fly with broken wings.

I took off Mick's leash and poured him some water, and he went to his basket by the fireplace.

The phone rang. I picked it up, said hello, and was greeted by the smooth, friendly voice of Esther Reynolds. Behind her I could hear a hubbub of voices and the clatter and clank of cutlery: the sounds of a busy kitchen.

“Hello, Lilah Drake! As promised, I am calling you in the midst of holiday chaos. I read about you in the paper, and I thought I'd better give you a few days to let things calm down. But now here I am, in desperate need of someone who knows what she's doing in a kitchen. So here's my question: are you still interested? If so, we're ready for you now.”

I sat down at my kitchen table and looked around. Everything was neat and perfect. This was my milieu; the kitchen was the one place that I felt truly confident. I could be happy doing this forever. “I'm glad to hear from you,” I said. A tree in my backyard undulated in the wind, shaking its branches at me.