Diane Davidson - Killer Pancake

“Well, you come on, then,” said Babs, disgruntled. “This’ll just take a minute. Have a little snack and come on over, I want to talk to you about tonight.”

Babs allowed Harriet to start wiping off the pink goo. From my newfound knowledge, I recognized that it was a cosmetic masque. I strolled over to the silver teacart. The cart’s top shelf held a globe vase of white and pink roses, a silver ice bucket containing a large green bottle set at a rakish angle, two tulip champagne glasses next to a stack of luncheon plates, a woven silver basket of puffed, delectable-looking rolls, and a silver plate piled with scoops of chèvre and pats of butter. My stomach growled in reproval, so to be sociable I reached for a plate, a roll, a dollop of chèvre, and one of those inviting pats of butter. When I pulled the roll apart, I was surprised to see it was speckled with bits of green.

“The rolls contain rosemary from my garden.” Harriet shot a quick, shy smile in my direction. “You don’t have to guess this time.”

I took a bite. The soft, herb-flavored roll was feathery and light. “Out of this world,” I told her.

Harriet nodded as she told Babs to close her eyes and relax. With her lids shut, Babs asked, “Did you know the police were here all afternoon, Goldy?”

“Aah,” I said, and stalling, took another bite of my roll. Babs was a gossip who was always digging for nuggets, it seemed. I needed to be careful. Not only that, but how I would steer the conversation from the cops visiting to shrimp risotto was going to be tricky. “Seems to me I did hear about that. Harriet probably told you about the terrible thing that happened at the store.”

“You’re damn right she did,” Babs said gruffly. “Don’t you remember that day I told you somebody was back in the dressing room when I was changing into a bathing suit? I told you!” Tears trickled out over the remaining goop on her face. “I’m so embarrassed!”

Harriet patted her shoulder. “Don’t upset yourself, it’ll just make your nose red. Come now, dear.” More patting. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”

I nibbled more roll and tried to think of what to say. Well I sure am glad I never bought a bathing suit there would be kind of crass.

Babs sniffled mightily, grabbed the tissues Harriet offered, and dabbed at her closed eyes. She said, “So how are the police doing in their investigation?”

“I really don’t have a clue,” I replied truthfully, “I’ve been too busy even to talk to my husband.” And when I do talk to him, it’s not going to be about the investigation, you can be sure of that. It’s going to be about what a pain-in-the-behind preparing shrimp risotto from scratch is ….

Babs opened one eye. “Yes, I’ve been hearing from one of our guests just how busy you’ve been. That’s why I was wondering if you were doing a little undercover work for the Furman County Sheriff’s Department.” The eye glared at me accusingly.

“Excuse me?”

Harriet’s shoulders slumped in frustration as Babs slapped her hand away impatiently. “Reggie Hotchkiss is an important member of this community, Goldy,” Babs said. “He’s not someone you or I or anyone else can afford to alienate. If there’s police work to be done, leave it to the police.”

“I didn’t alienate Hotchkiss,” I said defensively. “I haven’t even seen him today. And the last thing I would want to do, believe me, is get in the way of police work.” And of course now, I wasn’t going to have a chance to. “And Babs, I do need to talk to you about the menu—”

“Reggie called just an hour ago,” Babs accused. She pointed a freshly manicured nail. “He said you’d gone to his boutique and pretended you wanted a facial, then went snooping all around and sneaked out when no one was looking!”

I finished the roll and put the empty plate down on the tray. “I had an appointment for a facial, which I kept. When the technician started poking me with a needle, I told her to stop and I left.” All of this was technically true. “That’s it. And I paid in advance, too, for a procedure they didn’t even have to finish.”

Babs leaned back and allowed Harriet to smoothe moisturizer on her cheeks and throat. “Look, Goldy, I’m just trying to calm things down before the party. You understand that, don’t you? I used to be a client of Hotchkiss, but now I’ve gone over to Mignon, because Harriet just makes me look so much better. And I’m sure I’m not the only one. Reggie’s green with envy, of course, and he’s always been a big sponsor of our playhouse fund-raisers, so I have to keep a good relationship with him. Don’t upset him, will you? You know he has such a temper.”

“I won’t upset him,” I said acidly. “But I think he knows a lot more about Mignon Cosmetics than he’s revealing.” Did I know Reggie had a temper? All I knew was that he was a pretty smooth industrial spy. Harriet stopped putting on Babs’s makeup and gave me a very puzzled look, which I ignored. “Please, Babs,” I blurted out. “There’s something I have to tell you. My … er … shipment of ground turkey didn’t come in. I substituted large, very expensive shrimp, and I’m absorbing the cost difference myself. I’ll be making a risotto, and it’s a very delicious—”

“I know what risotto is,” she snapped. “I love it.” She pondered my announcement for a moment, clearly glad she’d be getting prime shellfish for a ground-poultry price. “Fine, then, change the menu if you have to. I guess I’ll have to find something to wear besides my sari.”

“Well, I regret—”

“How’s your assistant fellow doing?” she asked abruptly. Since this was the second time she’d asked about him, I grew wary.

“He’s in the kitchen starting the—”

“I didn’t ask what was he doing,” Babs interrupted as Harriet dotted concealer under her eye. “I asked you how he was doing.”

“He’s doing fine,” I said evenly.

“But I thought he was involved with that girl who was run over at the mall. Wasn’t he? I’m sure I heard that somewhere.”

“He was,” I said, again careful. I wanted to protect Julian from Babs’s tongue, and I was afraid we were getting into uncharted territory.

Babs lifted her chin for Harriet to dab green stuff on her reddish nose. After Harriet had rubbed the green in, her swift fingers deftly distributed foundation over Babs’s face. Presto: The green disappeared and there were no more dark bags under Babs’s eyes, no more red nose. Her face was a smooth, even tone, I was impressed.

Babs turned around again in her white leather chair. Her eyes didn’t have any makeup on them yet, but they still bored into me. “Was Julian going steady with Claire Satterfield?” she asked icily.

“Going steady?” I asked. Now, there was a term I hadn’t heard in a long time. “You mean, were they seeing each other to the exclusion of all others?”

“Whatever.” Babs’s voice was scathing. Her eyes never left my face.

“Yes, Babs, I think they were going steady. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I do need to get back down to the kitchen if you want to have your party tonight.”

Without another word Babs turned back to the mirror. Harriet gave me a quick sympathetic glance. Actually, I felt sorrier for her than she did for me. If it was up to me to make Babs Braithwaite beautiful on a regular basis, I’d find some new line of work.

Within twenty minutes, Harriet Wells had finished her makeup miracle and departed. While Julian busied himself shelling the shrimp—he dared not look at me—I stared at the menu Tom had written up and some Denver chef had assembled the ingredients for: Fourth of July Ethnic Celebration