Cooking is Murder

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Myrtle gasped. “Wanda! What on earth are you doing way out here?”

Miles unconsciously patted his wallet. Wanda, a psychic who lived in perpetually dire straits, was a cousin of his. A rather needy cousin. He said absently, “Surely we’re closer to Wanda’s house than we are to our own. Wanda lives far out.”

Wanda, wearing dark pants that hung on her thin frame and an equally ill-fitting top, grimaced in greeting. “Decided I’d come by.”

“But how?” spluttered Miles. “I didn’t even know I’d be here myself until Myrtle railroaded me.”

“Because she’s psychic, Miles. For heaven’s sake, don’t you pay attention?” said Myrtle with asperity. She looked at Wanda with a critical eye. Wanda had gone through a spell where she didn’t only look thin, but looked as if she wasn’t feeling well to boot. Myrtle was relieved to see that her friend was looking strong and much less frail than she had been. “Wanda, you’re looking well.”

Wanda nodded. “Writin’ horoscopes pays good,” she said gruffly. “And done stopped smokin’.”

Miles, always somewhat afraid he might end up on the hook for Wanda’s healthcare, looked relieved. “Well now, that is good news. You’ve got to be feeling so much healthier and better.”

“More fidgety and nervous,” Wanda said with a shrug of a thin shoulder. “But eatin’ better with that good money from the paper.”

Myrtle supposed that Wanda’s new gig at the local paper paid more than she and her brother had been making selling fortunes, peanuts, and live bait from their remote home off a rarely traveled highway. Although she suspected that most people wouldn’t call the money ‘good.’

Miles said somewhat uneasily, “But what are you doing here, Wanda? You weren’t planning on attending class with us, were you?”

Wanda looked at him solemnly with unblinking dark eyes. “Had a message fer you.”

“For Miles?” asked Myrtle with great surprise. “But usually the messages are for me. You’re always trying to relay that I’m in danger.”

Wanda said, “I got a general-purpose message, too. ‘A crust eaten in peace is better than a banquet partaken in anxiety.’”

Now Myrtle and Miles both gaped at Wanda.

“What’s that ... Shakespeare?” asked Miles of Myrtle, the retired English teacher.

“I rather think it’s Aesop,” said Myrtle thoughtfully. Then she demanded, “Wanda! What on earth do you mean?”

Miles suddenly smiled. “She’s obviously against your dinner party plans, Myrtle.”

“What’s the message relating to Miles? And why are you suddenly so concerned about him? And how did you find this quotation?” asked Myrtle, hand on her hip as she leaned on her cane with the other.

Wanda shrugged again. “It’s th’ sight.” She said to Miles, “Yer in danger.”

Miles gulped.

“You never look that concerned when I’m the one in danger,” said Myrtle to Miles with irritation. She sighed. “Now he’s going to go into cooking class with a suspicious attitude.”

“I’d imagine there’d be a lot of knives in cooking class,” said Miles unhappily.

Myrtle said, “The irritating thing about your fortune telling, Wanda, is that you don’t really have any specifics for us. Is Miles in danger at the cooking class? At my dinner party? Or at home, blissfully unaware as he digs into a salad tainted with listeria?”

Miles groaned, putting a protective arm around his stomach.

Wanda growled, “I’m just sayin’ for him to keep his eyes open.”

“And you’ve got nothing else? The sight didn’t just toss some other random tidbit at you that you weren’t totally sure how to interpret?” asked Myrtle.

Miles peered anxiously at Wanda.

Wanda gave this a little thought, mulling it over in her head. Then she said, “People is clumsy.”

“Well, I guess that’s something. I know that it will be impossible to get anything else, so we’ll have to take what we’ve got.” Myrtle glanced at her watch. “And if we don’t hurry right now, we’re going to be late for class. As a retired teacher, that will be the end of me. Wanda, I’m very much afraid that you need a ride back, but you can’t come to the class with us since you’re not enrolled. There’s got to be a library around here somewhere—do you want to relax in there for a while until we can take you home?”

Wanda shook her head. “Dan got one of the cars runnin’ so I’m drivin’ back.” She pointed in the direction of a different parking lot than theirs.

Miles quickly pulled out his wallet. “Gas money?” he asked.

Myrtle suspected that Miles wanted to ensure Wanda could contact him again in case she had any further visions related to him.

Wanda shook her head again with a small smile revealing her scattered teeth. “I’m doin’ okay,” she insisted.

“All right, now we really do have to go,” said Myrtle. “Class will be starting soon.”

Wanda gave her an anxious look. “You don’t have to go.”

Myrtle sighed. “Wanda, I paid money to go. And I believe you about the danger, but we’ll just be careful. I can’t waste my money like that. I’ll check back in with you later, okay?”

Myrtle and Miles hurried off as Wanda watched them go.

Miles said uneasily, “You don’t suppose their cooking equipment will catch on fire or something? Or that maybe the building isn’t in sound shape and it will cave in right over me?”

“I think you’re being incredibly fanciful, especially since you ordinarily pooh-pooh Wanda’s predictions.” Myrtle’s cane thumped on the sidewalk as she strode toward the Harris Building.

“Maybe it’s different when the prediction is about me,” said Miles in the tone of someone making an unpleasant discovery.

“I thought Wanda looked well,” said Myrtle. “As opposed to a few months ago, I mean. She seemed stronger and healthier.”

“I’m just glad she’s given up the cigarettes. I suppose she seemed well,” said Miles.

“And she seems to be doing better financially, too. She didn’t ask you for a cent this time.”

“Hmm.” Miles sounded unconvinced.

They entered an older brick building with a steep staircase right inside the front door.

“Good thing I ate a healthy breakfast this morning,” said Miles with a sigh as he started up the stairs.

The teacher was standing outside the door of the classroom. Actually, Myrtle and Miles could hear her before they saw her.

“More students coming!” cooed the voice. “This is going to be so much fun.”

Myrtle and Miles rounded the corner to see a frowsy middle aged woman with heavy eyebrows, gray-streaked hair, and a kind smile.

“Louvenia,” said Myrtle cordially. “Have you met Miles?”

“Sadly, I haven’t,” said Louvenia. She blushed and stammered. “I mean—of course, I’ve seen him around town. It’s Bradley, so one really knows everyone else, doesn’t one?”

Miles looked rather uncomfortable at the attention and the blushing. He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to formally meet you, Louvenia. I hear from Myrtle that you’re quite the cook. Lots of blue ribbons.”

Louvenia gave a bow that was more of an abrupt bob. “Thanks for the kind words, Myrtle. I suppose, Miles, that you’re learning how to cook to relieve your wife from kitchen duty sometimes?” She batted her lashes at him.

Now Miles was the one to blush. “Ah, no, actually. I’m a widower.”

Myrtle was getting tired of Miles getting all the attention. “He and I are both trying to sharpen our skills. Reach the next level. You know.”

Louvenia looked concerned, eyebrows drawing together alarmingly. “The recipes are assuming a certain level of expertise. It’s really special occasion cooking. We’ll learn some festive menus, wine and food pairing, table decoration—that sort of thing. This is an advanced class.”

Myrtle frowned at her. “Of course. I’m well-aware of that, Louvenia. At my age, how could I be anything but advanced? I’ve had a lifetime of experience in the kitchen.”

Miles made that odd, strangled noise again.

“Really,” said Myrtle, “you should get that checked out by a doctor, Miles.”

As Louvenia made nearly the same exact noise, Myrtle said sharply, “And you, too, Louvenia.”

“Let’s move inside, Myrtle, and see if we can find two seats together,” said Miles hurriedly.

The large room had folding chairs in rows on one side with a long L-shaped counter at the front and on the side of one of the rows. Various ingredients were out at cooking stations. One wall held wire shelves stacked with pots and pans of all sizes. Behind the counter were a couple of different stoves, a refrigerator, and other appliances.

“I guess we start out in the chairs?” murmured Miles. “Or do we go full-force into the kitchen area?”

A loud voice behind them made them jump. “Louvenia said to sit wherever. Reckon we’re starting out with a lecture.”

Myrtle turned to see a large man in his late-fifties wearing red suspenders over a white shirt. He had a well-fed stomach and a long, brown beard. What was more, he looked very familiar. Myrtle frowned.

“You know, the last time I saw you Miz Clover, it was in a classroom.” The large man smirked at her as he walked up to them. “As a matter of fact, I believe it was during detention.”

Myrtle snapped her fingers. “Of course. Chester Struby! I thought you looked familiar.”

Since Miles was looking lost, Myrtle said, “Miles, this is Chester Struby. Chester, this is Miles Bradford.”

They shook hands and Miles said thoughtfully, “Your face isn’t familiar, but your name is.”

The man grinned, showing white teeth in his long beard. “Struby Construction. You might’ve seen the billboards. I own a construction company. We do mostly large commercial jobs, but I occasionally dip my hand back into single family home projects.”

“That’s it. The billboards.” Miles pushed his glasses up his nose, studying Chester solemnly. “And you ... like to cook?”

It did seem a little incongruous. Chester Struby looked as if he could be at home in the great outdoors, or on a ranch, or perhaps in a sports event. He didn’t seem particularly at ease in the kitchen.

Chester gave a booming laugh. “Can’t picture it? Well, what I really like is to surprise people. I’ve got tons of interests and food happens to be one of them. I’m at the point of my life where I feel like I should start exploring some of these interests.”

“Well, good for you,” said Myrtle. “I guess I’ve got the same idea. Why not explore? That’s what life is all about. Good to meet some fellow explorers.”

She looked around the room. Besides Chester, there was a thin, dark-haired younger woman wearing all black. She had a tattoo of a hummingbird that took up much of her arm.

Chester bobbed his head at her. “That there’s my niece, Hattie. I twisted her arm a little bit, but she had some free time to learn more about cooking.”

Hattie turned on cue and gave Myrtle and Miles a small smile, although there wasn’t much warmth in her brown eyes.

“Is this everyone?” asked Myrtle. “I somehow thought there’d be more.”

Louvenia sang out from the door again, startling her. “We’re waiting on another couple of students. There should be seven of us, counting myself.”

Miles said under his breath, “I hope the low enrollment isn’t due to the fact that the class isn’t very good.”

“Don’t be silly, Miles. I’m excited that we have such a small class—it means that we’ll have plenty of one-on-one time with Louvenia,” said Myrtle.

“Oh boy,” muttered Miles.

Myrtle and Miles took a seat and Louvenia bustled in, grabbing a small stack of papers. “Here, while we’re waiting, if y’all could pass these around? It’s a syllabus for the class. Make yourself familiar with it while you wait. Oh, and if you could fill out the form on the last page and leave it for me? I’d like to have your contact information and best way to reach you.”

As Myrtle and Miles were working on the paperwork, an awkward-looking woman came in. Myrtle didn’t know her well, but knew that she was a new member of Myrtle’s book club, according to an email she’d gotten a month ago. She’d also taught her English decades ago. This was no coincidence since Myrtle had taught most of the town at one point. Bonnie Pendergrass. She wore thick glasses and she’d attempted to pull back her gray hair into a loose bun. Her clothes were ill-fitting and hung on her and a too-short skirt displayed knobby knees. She entered the room with a shy, anticipatory smile, but as soon as she set eyes on someone in the room, her face quickly changed and she looked completely horrified.

It almost looked as if she was looking at Miles, but Myrtle doubted that her mild-mannered friend could have caused such an intense reaction. Myrtle turned and saw Chester sitting behind Miles with a crooked grin on his face.

Bonnie quickly tried to mask her horror, but it was too late. She plopped down into the nearest chair, shoulders rising and falling rapidly as she tried to slow down her breathing.

Miles gave Myrtle a questioning look and Myrtle gave him a quick shrug. Louvenia sang out, “And now we have our last arriving student! We can go ahead and get started.”

The last arriving student was a well-known figure in the small town: Felix Todd. His smiling face was on signs all over Bradley as he ran for mayor. As usual, he was looking crisply dressed in khaki pants and a blue button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves. The blue perfectly set off his eyes and his prematurely silver hair. He came over to embrace Myrtle, which startled her. “Mrs. Clover! My English teacher! What a pleasure to be in a classroom with you again.” Myrtle gave him a tight smile. Ever the politician, Felix quickly shook everyone’s hand, smiling and looking intently in each person’s eyes, before sitting down.

Louvenia was busily picking up the completed paperwork and handing blank copies out to the latecomers. She gave Miles a simpering smile as she picked his up and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’m so excited to get started with our cooking class! I’m sure we’ll all learn a lot. I love teaching this course because every time I do, I learn something new, as well! We’ll jump right into cooking very shortly, but first there are a few things I must go over—kitchen safety and college and classroom rules and regulations,” said Louvenia.

Miles gave a small groan and Myrtle hissed at him, “Exactly as it should be!”