A Choice Cocktail of Death (A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2) Read online

  A Choice Cocktail of Death

  A Foodie Files Mystery Book 2

  Christine Zane Thomas

  By Christine Zane Thomas

  Food File Mysteries starring Allie Treadwell

  The Salty Taste of Murder

  A Choice Cocktail of Death

  A Juicy Morsel of Jealousy (Jan 2019)

  The Bitter Bite of Betrayal (Feb 2019)

  Comics and Coffee Case Files starring Kirby Jackson and Gambit

  Book 1: Marvels, Mochas, and Murder (Dec 2018)

  Book 2: Lattes and Lies (Jan 2019)

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Carole’s Mississippi Pot Roast

  Also by Christine Zane Thomas

  1

  “Are you ready for this?” Kate asked.

  She worked carefully with her curling iron, while making finger waves in my hair.

  “I think so,” I answered. I tapped my foot nervously. Never before had I mixed business with pleasure quite in this way. Sure, being a restaurant reviewer has certain perks—I not only get to eat and call it work but every meal receipt is a tax write-off.

  Tonight, I was adding to the mix—a bit of fun and socializing.

  I’d agreed a month ago to do a write-up in the Lanai Gazette on our town’s newest dining experience. And that’s exactly how it was sold, as an experience.

  In fact, the idea wasn’t even mine or Kinsey’s, the scatterbrained editor-and-owner-in-chief of the paper, but the owner himself pitched it. George Wilson wanted me to do a one-night adventure at his Murder Mystery Dinner Party at the regal Bentley’s Estate. It was the perfect setting for such a unique event. The place oozed Southern charm.

  But it wasn’t the food or the murder mystery that made my nerves tense with anticipation, though I had always wanted to participate in a murder mystery dinner party. It was kind of like playing life-size Clue.

  No, this addition was what Kate brought to the party.

  “Tell me again why you think this guy is right for me,” I said.

  “Allie, look at me.” She grabbed my chin with her free hand. “Like I’ve told you before, he’s kind, he’s funny in a funny sort of way, and, boy, is he easy on the eyes,” she said the last part with a giggle.

  “Well those are all good things I guess,” I said. “I’m still nervous about trying to fit in a blind date while I’m working.”

  “Work will be the perfect buffer. Plus, he’ll have Marcus to talk to about sports or whatever. I’ll distract them when you’re tasting. I know how you can be.”

  “Thanks,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  She continued working on the finger waves in an attempt to recreate the flapper style in my thick brown hair.

  I strained to take a peek, but Kate situated herself between me and the mirror.

  “How does it look?” I held up my homemade feather headband. “Ready for this?”

  “Mah-velous, dahling, mahv-elous,” Kate doted. She snatched my headband away. “I love this broach. Where did you find it?”

  “I got it antiquing not too long ago. It’s not too much, is it?”

  “No, it’s just right. What do you think about mine?” Kate’s own creation was similar, if a little gaudier than mine. She, too, had a large black feather, but the broach and headband were covered in glitz.

  “That’s perfect!” I said and meant it.

  Kate finally moved, allowing me to look at myself. I’d secretly wanted to dress up like a flapper for pretty much forever. But every Halloween, things seemed to get in the way. Tonight was my first chance to do so without looking like a lunatic. I wore a sparkling silver knee-length number. Thanks to Kate’s magic, my hair was attempting to behave.

  “Okay… You’re up next.” I pointed to the chair in front of my antique vanity. “So, what are we doing here?”

  “We’re not doing anything,” Kate directed, a bit haughtily. “I can do my hair just fine. You think I have hair and makeup when I’m traveling for work? Nope. Just me.”

  Kate separated her hair. She clipped the top half, then began to work the bottom half into two separate braids. Then she secured them with a few—or twenty—bobby pins.

  Next, she grabbed the curling iron and managed to work some voodoo magic with the top. She spritzed each strand with some hair spray, continuing on around her head until she was done.

  If I hadn’t known Kate since college, I would’ve been embarrassed by how mesmerized I was watching her do her hair. But she knew me well enough to know that hair and I were like oil and water. So, she wasn’t phased in the least.

  “If you’d just put in some effort,” she said with a laugh, “you could do this too.”

  Not a chance.

  “So how does Marcus know this Luke guy?” I asked her.

  “Oh, the gym, I think. They’re workout buddies or partners, whatever the term is of the day, bro.” She grinned. Then Kate glanced up at me in the mirror behind her. “I think they’ve known each other for a while though. Marcus thinks y’all will be good together.”

  “A workout partner,” I said skeptically. “He’s not too beefy, is he? You know I can only handle a certain level of beefcake in my life.”

  “Come on,” Kate begged. “Just lighten up and have a little fun tonight. And don’t judge a book by its cover. Nice guys are hard to come by these days, and he’s a nice guy.” Once Kate finished with her hair, she began on her makeup.

  “Okay, okay,” I relented. “I’ll do my absolute best. I promise.”

  “You promise to let loose, have fun?”

  “Kate, I promise,” I promised, hoping there’d be enough prohibition era cocktails to help me follow through.

  “Plus,” I said, “I’ll be so engrossed in the speak-easy vibe it’d be hard not to have fun. Remind me to take a load of pictures, okay?”

  “Okay?” Kate raised her eyebrows.

  “Oh, this isn’t just for the Gazette. I’m going all out tonight. I’m doing a blog post about the party and all things Roaring Twenties. I plan on blowing up Instagram with pictures too. Mr. Wilson wants press, and he’s going to get it. They plan on doing these monthly.”

  “We’ll see how it goes.” Kate was the voice of reason. “Time for makeup.” She scooted out of the chair for me to sit again. And she proceeded to paint a beautiful face for me. Something unlike the one my mother gave me with bold smoky eyes and a pink babydoll lip. I’d never seen my thin lips look so voluminous before. Maybe I needed a bigger place, so Kate could move in and be my makeup artist every morning.

  Then again, who was I kidding? I worked from home.

  “They should be here any minute now.” Kate checked the time on her phone and put on another coat of her own lipstick.

  I stood and admired my outfit one last time. The way the beads flipped around made me giddy. I did a quick spin—this was definitely the right dress. The wonders of the internet would never cease to amaze me.

  Kate quickly shimmied into her little black beaded number.

>   “Could you help me let down my hair?”

  We went to work removing all the bobby pins, allowing Kate’s curls to fall. Once they were down, she gave herself another good spritz of hairspray all over.

  The pièce de résistance for us both was slipping on our feathered headbands.

  We looked into the mirror and grinned.

  “Let’s do a Boomerang,” I said. And we took turns making our beads flounce about for the camera’s phone.

  “No matter how this date turns out,” Kate said, “tonight is going to be a that night we’ll never forget.”

  With that, the sound of a truck engine stopped just outside. Shortly after, there was a light knock on the door. The guys were here.

  Time to meet this Luke.

  2

  “Will you get the door?” I asked Kate.

  “No. It’s your house. You get the door.”

  “But you know them better than me.” There was probably a hint of puppy dog in the tilt of my head and pout of my lips.

  “Fine!” Kate huffed and rolled her eyes.

  A different knock, this one louder, sounded from the foyer. Kate slid on her black stilettos in two easy steps as she made for the front door, a move I couldn’t make if my life depended on it. I’d be hopping one-footed trying to manage something like that.

  “Welcome to Allie’s House,” Kate announced, opening the door. I cringed. I hadn’t exactly cleaned up for guests. The living room and makeshift office I used to write my blog was looking more like the latter with papers scattered and my laptop on the coffee table next to several used mugs.

  Kate did her best Betty Boop impression, a curtesy and a little shimmy, much to Marcus’s amusement.

  “You look amazing,” he said. He wrapped her up in a hug, careful of her makeup. She reciprocated with a big smooch on the cheek, smearing her ruby red lipstick on his five o’clock shadow. “How did I get so lucky?!”

  “I don’t know,” Kate replied. “But you sure did.” She winked.

  For the moment, it was like they were the only two people in the room. I stood awkwardly behind Kate as this Luke fellow put his hands in his pockets, still hovering in the doorway.

  When it became apparent that neither Marcus nor Kate was going to introduce us, Luke skirted around them, pulled a hand from a pocket, and came up to me.

  “Hi, you must be Allie. I’m Luke James.”

  His handshake was firm, but his hands were soft. He smiled as he took me in. A good sign. His pearly white grin was enough to make a girl’s knees go weak. I couldn’t help it—I guess I have a thing for smiles.

  Luke took the roaring twenties theme to heart. His muscles amply filled out the sleeves of his black suit. White suspenders matching his tie peeked out from behind his suit jacket.

  “That’s me, Allie, Allie Treadwell. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Kate didn’t lie. He was a beefcake, possibly too beefy for me. But I was trying to hold judgement for what really mattered—his personality.

  Marcus had done well with the theming too. Where Luke had white accessories, Marcus wore red. He one-upped Luke with a red bow tie, slightly crooked. The two of them looked like mobster enforcers.

  “Hey, do you mind taking a picture of us?” Marcus asked me. “I need everyone to see this bombshell on my arm.”

  It was obvious who the smitten kitten was in this relationship. Just the way Kate liked it. But her eyes were equally drawn to the man. She must really like him, too.

  Seeing her so happy was a wonderful thing. Her usual dating ritual was to wait until the guy was over the moon for her while her infatuation had waned, then kick him to the curb. This seemed different.

  “Oh, hold on,” Luke said. “Let me go get something from the truck.”

  He zipped out the open door. Then moments later, he appeared with a fake Tommy gun and a black hat. He sure did go above and beyond what was necessary. It was a little silly, but mostly it was sweet and charming.

  We posed for pictures in the front yard as if it was prom night. Marcus and Kate. Me and Luke. Marcus and Luke. Me and Kate. I even set the camera up on a tripod and used the timer to take some group photos. The night was off to a good start.

  “Everyone got the email with their role, right?” I asked, jumping to party business.

  I couldn’t help but let the excitement get to me after seeing the four of us in costume.

  “I’m Misty Minx, the speak easy owner,” Kate announced. “And Marcus, you’re Carmine Fox, the cross-town rival of Tommy Mattonie.”

  Checking his phone to be sure, Luke said, “I’m, uh, Jack Goodwell. He’s an undercover officer. What about you?” His blue eyes came into direct contact with mine. Instinctively, I shied away from the attention, looking at Kate with a smirk on my face.

  “I’m Jenny Mattonie,” I said. “The daughter of Tommy. I think it’s a special part. George, the owner, is playing Tommy. He said we need to be in character from the time we get to Bentley’s.”

  “That’s easy for me, doll face,” Luke said with a grin.

  Marcus laughed. “All right. Let’s get this show on the road.” He pointed to the truck. He opened the passenger side for Kate. Luke opened the back and ushered me inside before scooting in beside me.

  It might have been too early to tell on how things were going to go with Luke, but I knew already that I liked him.

  3

  Even though Luke left the middle seat empty between us, the bench seat in the back of the truck felt cramped. It was awkward as the two sitting in front of us went to hold hands. Kate ran through her day for Marcus, and he nodded and mumbled replies, barely getting a word in edgewise.

  Luke helped to tune it out, asking me about the foodie world and explaining his job as a pharmaceutical rep. He did this while practicing his gangster voice. It made for some casual get-to-know you time before we were thrust into a night of mystery, intrigue, and brand-new identities.

  The iron gates at the road were open. The large Bentley’s Estate house sat on top of a hill. It was lit up on all sides, but the chandelier on the porch was the brightest. The siding was a crisp white, the shutters, garnet. Tall columns wrapped the length of the house but only four stood on the upstairs balcony which was also immaculately lit. There were white rocking chairs and a porch swing, completing the gentry charm.

  From the concrete drive, Marcus eased onto a gravel lot. Then both gentlemen hopped out of the truck and lent a hand to us ladies getting out. Even Kate, as practiced as she was in heels, had trouble walking on the gravel. I, being less so, was thankful for Luke’s arm. He prevented me from twisting an ankle at least twice before we made it back to the safety of concrete.

  “Bentley’s is even more beautiful at night,” I remarked.

  Kate and I had been here once before for an afternoon wedding. Up until tonight, the estate was mostly used as a wedding venue, though there was also a farm and hundreds of pecan trees.

  “I think it’s the Edison bulbs.” Kate pointed up to the glowing lights of the chandelier. “Well, that and they refurbished the heck out of this place, what five, ten years ago? It used to be a real dump. There were rumors it was haunted.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Marcus said, “it’s nice. I, uh, I like the rocking chairs.”

  “Me too,” Luke said, cheesing. Neither of them had a clue about the place, but I, for one, was happy they were playing along.

  It was only a short walk from the car, but I was ready to get inside. The air was brisk, being a January evening in Georgia. It was a little too cool for our slinky gowns, now that the sun was down.

  But something made us stop in our tracks.

  “Get out of here, now!” A woman shooed a man out the front door, just as we’d made it to the porch steps. I recognized her as Mara Murdock. Granted, everyone in Lanai knew Mara. She made sure of that. She pranced around town in an invisible tiara acting like some sort of debutante. When in reality, she was just the event coordinator and manager of the Bentley’s Es
tate.

  “We don’t want you here tonight,” she continued. “Your dad didn’t give you a part for a reason, I’m sure. And I don’t want you here disrupting business.”

  “Fine,” the young man hissed. Then he tore off down the lawn toward the lot of cars.

  “Who’s that?” Kate whispered.

  “I’m not so sure,” I answered. “But I guess he must be George’s son.”

  Kate shrugged.

  “Welcome, welcome!” Mara said, her nasally voice doing an about face, sounding cheerful but strained. “Sorry you had to see that. Blake won’t be spending the evening with us.”

  She ushered us toward the doors. “And George asked me to remind you that once you pass this threshold, you are your characters for the evening. Now, please enjoy the evening. It should be a scream.”

  Once inside, we were swept into a by-gone era. The lights were dimmed, almost like candlelight. It felt very much like the romantic vibe out on the patio of my favorite local restaurant, Sadie’s Porch. Except Sadie’s was rustic in charm. This house’s interior was a stark contrast. To our left, there were high tables with black table cloths set up around the formal living room. And to our right, a built-in bar was fashioned in the same wood as the shelving of the library, home to many antique leather-bound books.

  We made our way to it, getting into line with several other guests.

  I liked what I saw and snapped a photo. Everyone had gotten into the spirit of the night. They dressed as authentically as was possible. The ladies had fringe on the bottom of their dresses. There were headbands, flumes, and cloche hats a plenty.