Miranda Bliss - Cooking Up Murder

Beyla set down the eggplant she was holding and brushed her hands together. “You are talking about what?” she asked. She looked at her little pile of groceries and frowned. This has something to do with the food I have bought?”

Eve’s smile was just sympathetic enough. Not too personal, not too flip. “Not about the groceries. About Drago. We heard the news. It’s very sad.”

A vee appeared between Beyla’s perfectly arched eyebrows. “Drago? I know no one by this name.”

Eve moved a step closer and lowered her voice. Every one of her words dripped Southern charm. “I know it’s hard. When someone dies, I mean. I know you’re probably trying to pretend-”

Eve’s hand was still on Beyla’s arm; Beyla shrugged it away and stepped back. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

I could see that Beyla was uncomfortable. “Eve.” I tugged my friend’s arm. “Beyla doesn’t feel like talking about Drago right now. Maybe we’d better-”

“Who is this Drago person you ask about?” Beyla’s voice was edged with irritation. “Why you insist on bothering me? I told you, I do not know this man.”

Eve raised her chin. I knew we were in for trouble. “Then why were you fighting with him in the parking lot last night?” she asked.

Beyla’s top lip curled. On her, it looked good, but it sure wasn’t a friendly expression. Though her dark eyes sparked, her voice never wavered. “I do not hang around-that is the expression, yes?-in parking lots. I do not talk to men I do not know. And I do not know this Drago.”

“Then you didn’t have anything to do with him dying?”

Beyla’s eye’s snapped. This was too much, even for Eve. I had to stop her before she made the situation even worse.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” I interjected, jerking Eve’s arm. For a moment, I thought she wasn’t going to budge. But then, after one last cold stare, she turned and stalked back to our station.

I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths, and wished the floor would swallow me.

Eve was back at it the moment I rejoined her. “Well that proves it, doesn’t it,” she hissed. “If Beyla’s not guilty, why is she acting so innocent?”

Did I mention that Eve isn’t the most logical person in the world?

I shook my head, certain that there was a morsel of reasoning somewhere in her theory. Maybe I just didn’t get it. Or maybe Tyler had been right all along.

“Of course she looks innocent,” I shot back. “She is innocent. She said she didn’t know Drago.”

“But we saw them arguing.”

“Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe it wasn’t her.”

“Maybe she’s lying to us.”

“Maybe she is. Maybe because it’s none of our business.”

“Maybe because she killed him.”

“Maybe she’s just innocent.”

“Or she’s guilty, and she doesn’t want us to know.”

“Or she didn’t have anything to do with it. She couldn’t have had anything to do with it, because it was a heart attack, remember?”

“Or she knew he had a heart condition, and that’s why she picked a fight in the first place.”

“Don’t forget, we saw Monsieur Lavoie having words with Drago, too.”

“Yeah, but that was long before ol’ Drago kicked the bucket. Beyla was right there minutes before. I’ll bet she said something she knew would get him all upset and then he’d have a heart attack and it would kill him and she wouldn’t be anywhere near when it happened so nobody would ever suspect her.”

“Or-”

“Uh, ladies?”

The moment I heard Jim’s voice, I realized that both Eve and I had gotten so carried away we weren’t paying attention to what was going on around us. Class had started.

My cheeks caught fire. I groaned and made an oh-my-gosh-I-can’t-believe-how-stupid-we-look face at Eve before I turned toward the front of the room.

“Now that I’ve got everyone’s attention…” Jim smiled our way, and that dimple showed up in his left cheek.

Not that I was looking or anything. Even before my blood started a warm thrum through my veins, I’d come to terms with the reality of the situation, which was as plain as the expression on Jim’s face when he looked toward our cooking station.

His smile was meant for Eve.

Of course.

I could stop worrying about looking like a dope. Chances were, Jim didn’t even notice I was in the room. Or on the planet, for that matter.

I told myself not to forget it and prepared to get down to business.

“Appetizers.” Jim swept a look around the classroom. “How many of you depend on chips and dips and maybe the occasional bag of pretzels?”

Honest to a fault, I raised my hand. Everyone laughed.

“Dump the grease and the fat grams,” Jim said. I suddenly wished I could hide all the evidence of the fat grams I’d been consuming lately inside jeans and a baggy sweat-shirt instead of the green capris and orange summer top I’d chosen in honor of the on-again, off-again warm weather.

“It’s easy to make excellent appetizers that don’t involve saturated fats and don’t come straight out of the bag,” Jim said. “Tonight, we’re going to learn how.”

That didn’t sound so hard. I breathed a little easier and reached for the bacon that was still tucked in my grocery bag.

“Except…”

The single word from Jim froze each and every one of us in place.

“We’re going to mix things up a little,” he said.

I was all for that. Maybe I’d be so busy mixing, I’d forget Eve’s crazy accusations as well as how mortified I’d been to be part of her confrontation with Beyla.

“I want you out of your comfort zone,” Jim continued, and I snickered under my breath. If he thought comfort had anything to do with me in the kitchen, he had a lot to learn.

“Tonight,” he said, “we’re going to change cooking partners.”

A murmur went through the classroom.

“Oh, come on!” Jim laughed. “It’s not the end of the world. If you can cook with your friends, you can cook with anyone. So let’s get to it.” He moved closer to our cooking stations. “You…” He pointed to the Incredible Hulk. “With you.” He took the mother from the station in front of ours by the hand and moved her into place. “You…” He pointed to another student. “With you. You-” He turned toward Eve, but he was already too late. Before he could assign her a partner, John, the accountant, had already staked his claim. As if by magic, John’s groceries had already displaced mine. He and Eve were chatting like old buddies.

Which pretty much left me out in the cold.

“You…” When Jim pointed my way, he grinned. I felt a little warmer. “Let’s put you…” He glanced around the room. “Let’s put you over there with Beyla.”

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea.” It slipped out before I could stop myself. Beyla kept staring straight ahead, and I could only imagine the thoughts going through her head.

It was bad enough that Jim had paired her with the woman who’d set off the smoke alarms in the classroom the night before. But also the woman who had been party to practically accusing her of murder?

Maybe I could make it up to her.

I took comfort in that thought as I stepped around John to repack my chives and my bacon and my goat cheese. I sidestepped my fellow students who were busy playing musical cooking stations. I’m not very tall, and it was hard to see across the room, and the next time I caught sight of Beyla, she was reaching into her purse, apparently putting something away. As I approached, she tossed the purse aside and stepped away from the cook station.

She greeted me with, “We will use your stove.”

It was better than I deserved, which, as far as I could tell, was more along the lines of Get out of here; I don’t want to work with a woman who has crazy ideas about me murdering a man I didn’t know.