Cast Iron Conviction (The Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Ten Years Later

  Chapter 2: Pat

  Chapter 3: Annie

  Chapter 4: Pat

  Chapter 5: Annie

  Chapter 6: Pat

  Chapter 7: Annie

  Chapter 8: Pat

  Chapter 9: Annie

  Chapter 10: Pat

  Chapter 11: Annie

  Chapter 12: Pat

  Chapter 13: Annie

  Chapter 14: Pat

  Chapter 15: Annie

  Chapter 16: Pat

  Chapter 17: Annie

  Chapter 18: Pat

  Chapter 19: Annie

  Chapter 20: Pat

  Chapter 21: Annie

  Chapter 22: Pat

  Chapter 23: Annie

  Chapter 24: Pat

  Chapter 25: Annie

  Chapter 26: Pat

  Recipes

  JESSICA BECK

  CAST IRON CONVICTION

  THE CAST IRON COOKING MYSTERIES

  Cast Iron Conviction

  Copyright © 2015 by Jessica Beck All rights reserved.

  First Edition: September 2015

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Recipes included in this book are to be recreated at the reader’s own risk. The author is not responsible for any damage, medical or otherwise, created as a result of reproducing these recipes. It is the responsibility of the reader to ensure that none of the ingredients are detrimental to their health, and the author will not be held liable in any way for any problems that might arise from following the included recipes.

  The First Time Ever Published!

  The Second Cast Iron Cooking Mystery.

  Introducing CAST IRON CONVICTION, Book 2 in the brand new cozy mystery series, the Cast Iron Cooking Mysteries, from New York Times Bestselling Author Jessica Beck!

  To Emily,

  I couldn’t love you more if you were my own daughter!

  (Full Disclosure: She actually is my own daughter. Don’t worry, it’s an inside family joke!)

  When Albert Yeats unexpectedly appears in Maple Crest, North Carolina, everyone is surprised to see him. After all, ten years earlier, he’d been convicted of murdering Mitchell Yeats, and he’d received a life sentence without parole. It turns out though, that the state made a mistake, and Albert is back in town to track down the real killer himself. Cast Iron Store and Grill owners Pat and Annie are quickly embroiled in the case as well as the investigation touches someone close to the twins, and they find themselves trying to solve a murder in the past that soon generates a brand new homicide in the present.

  CHAPTER 1

  Even after a cursory glance at the body, there could be no doubt that Mitchell Wells was dead. Sprawled out on his lush green lawn with his face pointing toward the clouds, there was a dagger protruding straight up from Mitchell’s chest like the gnomon of a sundial, casting a shadow revealing the late-afternoon time, if one were only skilled enough to read it. Mitchell must have been surprised when his killer had plunged the dagger into his heart. From the pristine condition of his hands and his unblemished face, it was obvious that there had been no struggle; he’d been caught off guard, making no attempt to defend himself. It was easy to surmise that Mitchell had known his killer, and everyone in town knew that one man, Albert Yeats, had the most reason to want him dead.

  In the end, Albert was tried and convicted of the murder, but questions arose at the time whether he’d really committed the crime, and some folks in Maple Crest were never satisfied with the verdict.

  Most especially Albert himself.

  TEN YEARS LATER

  CHAPTER 2: PAT

  “Albert Yeats, what are you doing here?” I asked the shadow of a man I’d once known now standing in front of my cash register. He was a ghost from our town’s past, nearly forgotten, and suddenly there he was in the Cast Iron Grill and Store I ran with my fraternal twin sister, Annie. The years since I’d last seen Albert had not been kind to him, giving him a wan, almost hollow look, but then again, if I’d been in prison serving time for murder, I was fairly certain that I wouldn’t look any better myself.

  “Are you telling me that you didn’t hear the news?” Albert asked me.

  “What news is that?” I asked him softly. “What happened? Did you escape?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that, not that I didn’t dream about it day and night the entire time I was locked up. The state of North Carolina let me go. They had to.”

  “Why exactly is that?” I asked. Albert had been convicted of murdering Mitchell Wells ten years earlier, and after the life sentence they had given him, I didn’t think I’d ever see the man again. Clearly my customers didn’t, either. There were several uneasy whispers as they discussed the convicted killer’s sudden presence among us, all made without addressing the man directly.

  “What can I say? They made a mistake,” he explained. “Plain and simple.”

  “How’s that?” I knew that I was asking a lot of questions, but him being there all of a sudden was startling.

  “The evidence wasn’t nearly as strong as the prosecutor led the jurors to believe, and it only just came to light that he even made some of it up. I tried to tell that incompetent fool defending me, but all he wanted to do was get me off his caseload.”

  “Albert, I’m not trying to be callous about your situation, but why on earth did you choose to come back to Maple Crest? Given the circumstances, I’d think that it would be the last place you’d want to be.”

  Albert Yeats grinned at me, his sallow cheeks expanding for a moment. “You don’t get it, do you, Pat? I came back to find the real killer, and to make sure that they pay for the crime they committed. I figure until I settle that debt, I won’t be able to get on with the rest of my life.”

  Finally, one of my customers, Frank Monroe, approached us. “Since when did you welcome cold-blooded killers into your store, Pat?”

  “I didn’t kill anybody, Frank,” Albert said. He was about to say more when Frank interrupted him.

  “I’m not talking to you, murderer.” Then Frank turned back to me. “Are you going to just let him waltz in here as though nothing happened? He put a dagger in a man’s heart. He shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets with the rest of us.”

  “Hang on, Frank,” I said. Frank had always been a bit of a hothead, jumping to conclusions on the smallest amount of evidence. It hadn’t really surprised me when he’d come forward, but I’d been hoping that he’d hold his tongue. No such luck, though. “The state said that he didn’t do it, so that has to be good enough for the rest of us.”

  “Well, the state’s wrong,” Frank said, and then he laid his planned purchases on the counter in front of me and added, “I’ve changed my mind. Suddenly I don’t feel like shopping here anymore.”

  As he headed out empty-handed, I said, “Frank, if the state of North Carolina says that it made a mistake, the man at least deserves the benefit of the doubt.”

  Frank didn’t even slow down, though. A few more folks left, but the rest stayed, going back to their shopping. I knew that eventually, Frank would be back. Even if he was willing to drive to the nex
t town over to shop, he still had to get his mail. We had the only post office boxes in town, a barely break-even proposition when Edith Bost’s salary was taken into consideration, but it was still a worthwhile offering, since it pulled most of the folks in Maple Crest into the Iron just about every day. Frank would be back once he simmered down a little. He’d had his little show of open rebellion, but I knew that it wouldn’t last.

  “Listen, I didn’t mean for you to lose business on my account, Pat,” Albert said a little sadly. It was as though he hadn’t been surprised by Frank’s attitude, but was still a little disappointed nonetheless. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I was back in town.”

  “Do you honestly want to stay, Albert? You have to realize that Frank isn’t going to be the only one who disapproves of your presence here. Maybe it would be better for everyone involved if you got your fresh start someplace else right away.”

  When Albert heard my last sentence, it was as though a switch suddenly flipped in his brain. Suddenly the remorse was gone, replaced by open defiance. He looked at me with open contempt, and his next words were filled with anger. “Seriously? Even you, Pat? I figured you of all people would understand. I’m not going anywhere! If folks don’t like it, that’s just too bad for them. I’m more than happy to leave everyone else alone while I hunt down the real killer, but if anyone gets in my way, they’re going to regret it.”

  This wasn’t the man I’d once known. “Albert, it’s not like you to make idle threats like that.”

  “Trust me, they’re not idle, and to tell you the truth, you don’t know what I’m like, not anymore. Those ten years made me hard, and I won’t let anyone stand in my way. Not you, and especially not your sister.”

  Annie came up behind him, probably leaving her station at the grill when she realized that something was going on up front. “Did someone mention my name? Albert? Is that really you?”

  “Hello, Annie,” he said, calming down a little at the sight of her. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t talking about you; I was referring to the sheriff, but there’s no doubt in my mind that whatever stand your brother takes, you’re right there with him. Even if the entire Marsh family is ready to turn its back on me along with the rest of this town, I don’t care. Whether you all like it or not, I’m here until I do what I promised myself I’d do the day that gavel came down and sent me to straight to Hades.”

  After Albert stormed out, Annie asked me, “Well, that was awfully melodramatic. Would you mind bringing me up to speed on what’s going on? What’s he doing back in town? I thought he was in prison.”

  “Don’t you have customers waiting for you?” I asked her. Annie ran the grill like a seasoned chef, using cast iron cookware whenever the opportunity arose, and her exquisite food offerings were out of this world. Sure, I could step in and substitute in a pinch, but Annie was the real pro at the grill. I, on the other hand, was the wizard up front, handling ordering, stocking, customer service, and the financial part of our joint business venture. With Edith in the post office and Skip helping out wherever he was needed, we managed to get along just fine.

  “It won’t kill them to wait. If it will make you feel better, just give me the short version.”

  “Albert Jenson is out of prison on a technicality, and he claims that he’s back in Maple Crest to find Mitchell Wells’s real killer.”

  “Okay, now tell me the long version,” she said after taking that in.

  “That’s really all I know at this point,” I said.

  Annie seemed to accept that as she nodded and then turned back to her customers, but I knew that we hadn’t heard the last of this.

  In the end, how right I turned out to be.

  CHAPTER 3: ANNIE

  It was obvious that my twin brother, Pat, was upset by Albert’s sudden appearance back into the lives of the folks in Maple Crest. After all, we’d both known the man before he’d been convicted of killing Mitchell Wells; he’d been a friend of our father’s, and growing up, we’d called him Uncle Albert, though we were not related by either blood or marriage. I’d been fond enough of him, but he and Albert had bonded over fishing on the family lake near the cabin I now called home, and they’d been closer.

  “What’s going on, Annie?” Nan Hicks asked me as I hastily flipped a pair of hamburger patties frying in one of my cast iron skillets. It was a Griswold #10, my largest skillet, made back when the cast iron they produced was of better quality than anything you could buy today. This particular piece of ironware had been dubbed Nick immediately upon acquiring it, due the nick in the handle where someone had abused it once long ago. I’d taken a rusted old skillet that someone had callously thrown away, and I’d brought it back to life, first stripping away the rust and the grime then lovingly reseasoning it with so many coats of olive oil that it now shone in the deepest and darkest ebony hues anyone could ever ask for.

  I checked a few more things on the grill top before I answered Nan’s question. “Albert Yeats is back in town,” I said.

  She gasped loudly. “The killer? Oh, dear.”

  “He says that he didn’t do it, and apparently the state of North Carolina agrees with him,” I said, bending over to check the meatloaf I had baking in one of my ovens. The combination stove I used was a marvel, combining six gas burners, a 24-inch griddle, and two standard ovens, and I couldn’t run my grill without it.

  “Easy to say, harder to prove,” Mort Greene said after finishing a bite of his hotdog. That man could nurse a meal longer than anyone I’d ever met, making a simple offering last longer than some four-course meals.

  “Well, apparently the government doesn’t agree with you,” I said as I laid out the two sets of buns and prepped what I liked to think of as the hamburger landing strips. With well-practiced movements, I added pickles, onions, and catsup to one, and then adorned the other with a light spread of mayo, some mustard, and a bit of my homemade chili. After placing the finished patties, I put everything together and delivered the two lunches.

  “Just because they changed their minds doesn’t mean that they weren’t right the first time,” Mort said with a frown.

  “But why would he come back here?” Nan asked worriedly. She was Virgil Hicks’s younger sister. Virgil loved to make mountains out of molehills, and I had a feeling that he was going to have a field day with this development.

  “It’s his home, isn’t it, so why shouldn’t he?” I asked her. “He has just as much right to be here as the rest of us.”

  “I don’t know about that, but I do know that folks aren’t going to like it, not one little bit,” Mort opined.

  “Maybe not, but I don’t think they’re going to have much choice. He said that he was going to catch the real killer.”

  Nan looked around worriedly. “Do you think it’s possible that the real murderer is here?”

  “Probably not at the moment,” I said a little too glibly. I was as shaken by Albert’s reappearance as everyone else.

  Even Mort choked down the rest of his hotdog in record time after I said that. He grabbed the bill, nodded in my direction, and then headed for the front to pay Pat for his meal. Mort’s speed was unprecedented, and I had to wonder where he was off to in such a hurry. I couldn’t give it much more thought though, as a large family I knew all too well came into the grill and took every remaining seat I had at the counter. I was so busy filling their orders that I didn’t have much time to think about anything else until the crowd finally thinned and I could catch up on my cleaning. As I was scraping the griddle, I heard the door open, and I saw our older sister Kathleen come in, decked out as usual in her spiffy sheriff’s uniform.

  From the look on her face, this wasn’t a social visit.

  I suspected that trouble might have already made an appearance in Maple Crest.

  I was about to approach Kathleen when I saw someone else come into the Iron just behind her, a man I wasn’t at all certain that I was wanted to see.

  It was Greg Andrews. I’d brok
en up with him recently, and from the look of sheer determination on his face, apparently we weren’t done talking about it after all, even though I’d told him in no uncertain terms that we were through the last time that we’d spoken. I was glad that my brother and sister were nearby, but I was going to handle this myself. Reaching for my heaviest cast iron skillet, I waited grimly for his approach.

  “What are you doing here, Greg?” I asked, doing my best to show my disapproval openly. Greg had never been one to take subtle hints.

  “We’re not finished talking, so I figured that you’d have to pay attention to me here. It’s not over, Annie, at least not until I say it is.”

  I hefted the heavy pan in my hands. “Excuse me?”

  The presence of the skillet didn’t deter him. He was a fool for ignoring it. The heavy cast iron piece not only served as a cooking implement, but it made a peachy weapon as well. Greg snarled, “You heard me. You can’t just break my heart and expect to get away with it.”

  He was making a scene, and several folks in the Iron were staring at him. What was even worse, he’d managed to attract the attention of my two siblings. In the calmest voice I could muster, I said, “First of all, you’re just upset because you didn’t get the chance to break up with me first. Admit it. You know as well as I do that we were not working out.”

  “I think you’re just trying to justify your delusional behavior in dropping me,” he said, nearing the counter.

  I didn’t have any diners at the counter at that moment, which was a case of my being thankful for small favors. I slapped the cast iron skillet down on the countertop hard enough to jar my own teeth. That got his attention, and if anyone else in the Iron had missed what had happened so far, they weren’t going to be able to ignore it any longer. “Listen to me carefully, Greg, because I’m only going to say this one more time. We’re through. Now go.”