Rosemary and Crime by Gail Oust Read Free Book Online Page B

Piper.” Melly gave me a dry peck on the cheek in case others might be around to speculate on how well the two of us were getting along since the divorce.
    “Hey, Lindsey.” I turned to my daughter and gave her a hug, which she returned in her typical lukewarm fashion.
    “Meemaw worried people might talk if we didn’t come today,” Lindsey said as she pulled away.
    The fact that Lindsey was here at all attested to Melly’s power of persuasion. I knew from experience how hard it was to rouse a teenage girl from bed before noon on a Saturday. “Well,” I said brightly, “whatever the reason I’m glad you’re here to show your support.”
    “So, this is what all the fuss is about,” Melly said, parroting her son’s comment of the previous day. She pivoted slowly, taking in the shelves of carefully selected spices from the far corners of the globe. “Anise…?” she said, wrinkling her aristocratic nose. “Who uses anise?”
    I bridled at her tone. “Anise happens to be used in baking cakes, breads, and cookies. Next time I make Italian biscotti, I’ll be sure to bring you some. You’ll love the sweet licorice taste.”
    “Hmph,” she sniffed, moving on to another display. “And what is this? Surely, dear, you can’t expect anyone in their right mind to spend so much money for such a teensy amount?”
    “Saffron happens to be the most expensive spice there is.” I gently took the jar from her hand and replaced it on the shelf. “Fortunately a little goes a long way.”
    “Interesting.… What does one do with saffron?”
    “It’s wonderful in paella.”
    “Paella? Another of those fancy, foreign dishes you seem to favor. What’s wrong with plain-old meat and potatoes? That was good enough for my husband. Good enough for my son. Plenty good enough for the rest of us, too.”
    “Why don’t you and Lindsey find yourselves a seat?” I suggested.

 
    C HAPTER 7
    S TANDING ROOM ONLY.
    Reba Mae’s prediction proved true. A steady stream of people poured into Spice It Up!, filling chairs and jamming the aisles. Among the crowd, I spotted Gina and Tony Deltorro, owners of the Pizza Palace. Behind them were Diane Cloune, wife of the local councilman Dwayne Cloune, and Dottie Hemmings, the mayor’s wife. Dottie waggled her fingers at me. Diane gave me a brittle smile. I wished it was my newly opened spice shop that captured their interest, but I knew better. It was the prospect of pure, unadulterated gossip that drew them like honeybees to buttercups. A dead chef trumps a grand opening any day.
    I took my place behind the demo table and looked out over an expectant audience. They stared back. I felt like an exhibit in a freak show. My gaze chanced on Melly, who pointedly tapped her watch with a fingernail, signaling it was time for me to get this show on the road. Bored already, Lindsey stifled a yawn behind a French-manicured hand.
    “Good morning!” I cleared my throat. “Welcome to Spice It Up!”
    The shop was so still you could have heard the proverbial pin drop. From the fluttering in my stomach, it felt like I swallowed a hummingbird along with my morning’s yogurt. People had come to gawk, to ask questions. I crossed my fingers they wouldn’t leave without purchasing bags and bottles of my precious spices. I desperately wanted—needed—to hear my cash register jingle.
    “All righty then,” I said with false heartiness. “Let’s get started, shall we? Today I’m going to demonstrate how to prepare one of Trattoria Milano’s specialties, Roast Lamb with Rosemary and Juniper. Naturally the first thing you’ll need is lamb.” I surreptitiously wiped damp palms on the sides of my apron. “After all, you can’t expect to serve roast lamb with rosemary and juniper without the lamb, right?”
    No one laughed at my feeble attempt at humor. No one even cracked a smile.
    I soldiered on. “Ask the butcher for a leg of lamb that weighs approximately three pounds. Like this lovely choice