Diane Davidson - Sticks & Scones

“Forget it,” she said immediately. “I didn’t touch Andy. He wasn’t my type. He was a sweet kid. Ray seduced him into that theft, the way he does everybody. Ray’s a son-of-a-bitch snake who will promise you anything to get what he wants.”

Arch came out of the library and called to us. I said quickly, “So, Viv? You wouldn’t have any idea who killed Andy, would you?”

She signaled to Arch. “Some buddy of Ray’s, probably. Once they do what he says, they’re like those bugs that crawl back under rocks, never to see the light of day.”

Without warning, the gold Mercedes screamed into the lot. John Richard hopped out, crossed his arms, and glared at us. I squinted at the dealer’s paper tags on the Mercedes. Lauderdale Luxury Imports. Was the Mercedes John Richard’s car or Viv’s? Arch announced that there were fifty holds on the Pepin, and I wouldn’t get it for a while. Then he shyly looked up to Viv, who sauntered away with her arm slung over my son’s shoulder. The sight made me want to puke.

Once they’d pulled away, I headed back to the castle. Dusk in the Rocky Mountain winter is a sudden, cold affair, arriving early and bringing with it a lengthy atmospheric gloom. I felt my mood drop with the temperature and the darkness.

In the kitchen of the. castle, Eliot, wearing an old-fashioned double-breasted gray suit and gray Ascot tie, was giving Julian instructions on the general outlines for a Tudor dinner. I looked closely at his left arm, the one Michaela had struck with the sword. Was that a slight bandage-bulge, or was I imagining it? In his right hand, Eliot held a crystal glass of sherry that he gestured with to make his points. “It was not a supper; although what the Elizabethans called dinner; we’ll be serving at suppertime on Friday evening for the fencing team.” The sherry slopped over the side of the glass.

Sukie, standing on the other side of the room in a full-length black velvet coat, groaned, undoubtedly thinking of her just-scrubbed floor. I put on an enthusiastic face. Whatever Eliot wanted in the food department, no matter how arcane, he was going to get. I didn’t intend to get throttled.

“Now, as Goldy may have told you,” Eliot said, jutting his chin in Julian’s direction, “during the Renaissance, your typical late-sixteenth-century courtier would be served neither dinner nor supper in the Great Hall. Hollywood notwithstanding, of course,” he added with a chuckle and sip of his drink. He continued: “The large change from medieval to Renaissance food service was that the king and queen - or lord and lady, as you will - withdrew to private chambers for meals. On very special occasions, such as Christmas, they would eat in the hall with a full complement of courtiers. The lord and lady and their intimates would be served on the dais, so all could see and admire them.”

Julian’s handsome face was set in a raised-eyebrow, pressed-lip expression of I’m-trying-not-to-laugh. Without warning, I felt suddenly cold again, and glanced around. Was I the only one noticing that the same window kept sliding open? While Eliot lectured, I sidled over to the window, shut it, and then hustled back to the kitchen table, where Julian had laid out trays of beautifully arranged vegetarian fare.

One platter contained a magazine-perfect stack of diamond-cut, grill-striped golden polenta, another a stunning array of steamed pale green artichokes, golden ears of corn, bright orange and green baby carrots, and broccoli florets. A third tray contained a bowl of arugula and romaine lettuces beside a heated crock of what looked and smelled like the recipe I’d shown him for a hot port wine and chčvre dressing. I looked closer. The creamy vinaigrette was studded with poached figs. So it was the recipe I’d shown him. I’d felt triumphant putting it together, for figs had been brought to Britain by the Romans. My mouth watered.

“But we’ll have more time to talk tomorrow,” Eliot concluded with a toothy grin and last delicate slurp from his glass. “Sukie and I are going out for the evening. Enjoy the … veggies. Goldy can tell you a Tudor courtier typically consumed two pounds of meat a day. Venison, rabbit, mackerel, goose, pheasant, peacock, et cetera.” He nodded at the spread. “No cornbread, no carrots. The occasional potato.”

Ever polite, Julian smiled and nodded. Sukie gave us her best approximation of an apologetic look and announced that Michaela had a small kitchenette in her castle apartment, and usually did not join them for the evening meal. Then she and Eliot swept away.

I was left wondering. Had Eliot’s family treated the Kirovskys like family for so many years that it was impossible to fire her, even if she stabbed him with a sword? If Sartre was right, and hell was other people, what was other people you don’t get along with living forever at close quarters.? A lower circle of hell?

I put these questions aside as Julian and I shouldered the trays and trucked them up to Tom’s and my room. Julian had already set three places at a card table next to Tom’s side of the bed. Not a dais in the Great Hall, but absolutely perfect for a cozy family meal. We said grace. In addition to thanks, I prayed for safety and guidance, and for my son.

“Are we all sure we want to stay here?” Julian asked delicately, as he passed the salad. “That Eliot guy is weird.”

“I’m comfortable,” Tom offered. “We wouldn’t have as good security in a hotel, I can tell you that, unless Lambert pulled some extra guys off the force to keep watch over us. So… unless the person who shot me can find a way into a heavily fortified castle, I’d say we’re in pretty good shape.”

“Chardé Lauderdale might be able to find her way in,” I ventured.

“I think I could deal with that skinny decorator,” Tom insisted with a chuckle.

I started piling goodies onto Tom’s plate and my own. “Before you turn down a hotel, you should know I saw Eliot having a nasty fight this afternoon with his caretaker, Michaela Kirovsky, Marla broke it up.”

“Yeah,” Tom replied. “Marla called while you were running Arch around. She said none of her sources know if Eliot and Michaela fight all the time, or if what you saw this afternoon was a one-time thing.” Tom laughed and shook his head. “I’d say Eliot Hyde is more than weird, maybe even certifiable. When we’re done eating, I’ll tell you all about his pranks.”

“Oh, tell us now,” I coaxed with a giggle, infinitely glad that Tom felt well enough to gossip. I finished heaping his plate with polenta and vegetables and set it in front of him.

Tom took a few bites, and complimented Julian. Then he said, “Eliot told the sheriff’s department, and townsfolk who would listen, that any castle-property trespasser would be attacked by a ghost.”

“I’ll bet that brought in the gawkers,” Julian said with a wry smile.

Tom laughed again. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Figgy Salad

4 ounces small Mission figs (13 to 15 figlets”) ˝ cup ruby port ˝ teaspoon sugar 1 ounce (about 2 tablespoons) filberts (also called hazelnuts) 2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar 1 large shallot, minced by hand or in a small food processor 2 ounces chčvre, softened and sliced 1/4 cup olive oil ź teaspoon salt freshly ground black pepper to taste 8 cups field greens (“baby” variety, if possible), rinsed, drained, patted dry, wrapped in paper towels, and chilled

Cut the stems off the figs, rinse them, and pat dry. Place them in a small saucepan with the port and sugar and bring to a simmer over medium heat. Cover the pan, lower the heat to the lowest setting, and simmer gently for about 10 minutes, or until the figs are soft. Drain the figs, reserving the cooking liquid. Allow the figs to cool, then slice them into quarters and set aside. Using a wide frying pan, toast the filberts over medium heat, stirring frequently, until they emit a nutty smell, about 5 to 10 minutes. Remove them from the heat, and when they are cool, coarsely chop them. Reheat the cooking liquid over low heat and stir in the vinegar, shallot, chčvre, oil, and seasonings. Add the figs and raise the heat to medium-low. Stir the dressing until the cheese is completely melted. Toss the field greens with the warm dressing and sprinkle the nuts on top. Serve immediately.