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

  “So, what would you like to do?” I asked her.

  “I think dinner would be nice, don’t you?” she suggested. “I know some folks go to movies on their first dates, but I’d rather talk to you than watch something on a big screen.”

  “That sounds good to me, too. Any preferences on where we should dine?”

  She laughed again, a sound I was quickly growing to enjoy. “Come on. You have to do some of the work, Pat. Pick me up at six.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I said, happy to realize that I’d meant it. Was I finally going to start getting over Molly? This was certainly a step in the right direction.

  “I know I probably shouldn’t admit it, but you just made my day,” Jenna said.

  She headed off to her pickup truck, and I stood there watching her as she drove away.

  Annie wasn’t going to believe this, or maybe she’d have no trouble at all, since she’d motivated me to ask in the first place. After all, without her prodding, I might never have thought of Jenna that way.

  I owed my twin sister in a big way for speaking up.

  I was still grinning like an idiot when I heard a commotion down the street. In front of Murphy’s furniture store, Betty was yelling at Albert Yeats, our town’s very own prodigal son. “Stay away from me, Albert. I mean it. I’m not going to tell you again.”

  “What’s wrong, Betty? Did I hit a little too close to home?” He was grinning broadly at her, despite, or perhaps because of, her ill temper.

  “You lost your mind in prison; you know that, don’t you?”

  “Then again, maybe I found it while I was there,” he said.

  Betty slammed the door in his face, and Albert chuckled lightly.

  I walked over to him. “I see you’re still intent on burning all of your bridges in Maple Crest.”

  “What can I say, Pat? I just love watching a good fire.”

  “I take it Betty is one of your suspects in Mitchell’s murder.”

  “As a matter of fact, she’s up near the top of my list.”

  “Why is that, exactly?”

  Albert touched the side of his nose lightly. “All in good time, my friend, all in good time.”

  “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” I said softly. “My offer to help stands.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but what fun would that be?” Albert asked me. “I can afford to torch all of the relationships in this town that I want to. Once I find the real killer, I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”

  “Suit yourself. I’m just trying to help.”

  “And don’t think I don’t welcome it,” Albert said. After a second, he added, “Tell you what. It actually might be prudent if I shared a few things with you about what I’m really up to. After all, if something should happen to me, where will things stand then?”

  “What do you think might happen to you?” I asked him.

  “With all of the places I’m poking my nose, there’s a possibility that somebody might try to shut me up permanently. Tell you what. How about if I come around in an hour to the Iron? Are you free, or do you have plans this evening?”

  “No, I’m available all night tonight,” I said, realizing how happy I was that I had a date the next night with Jenna.

  “Okay. I’ve got one more stop to make, and then I’ll come by to see you.” Albert started to walk away, hesitated, and then turned back to me. In a soft voice, he added, “If I should meet with an unhappy accident before I see you next, do me a favor, would you?”

  “Anything,” I offered.

  “There’s a hollow tree out at Parsons Lake Park near the forked trail that goes around the shoreline. It’s over your head, so it’s not easy to spot unless you’re looking for it.”

  “What about it?” I asked.

  “Just keep it in mind that it’s there if I should meet with ill will before we have a chance to talk again,” he said, and then he hurried off before I could ask him anything more about it. Who was he, Boo Radley, hiding things for Scout? I was beginning to wonder if prison hadn’t made Albert Yeats a little crazy after all. What could Betty Murphy have to do with Mitchell’s murder, anyway? I hadn’t heard a single rumor about the two of them being together. Was there a kernel of truth to what Albert was acting on, or was everything just the ravings of an unbalanced man? Had I been premature offering to help Albert with his quest? Hopefully I’d know more in an hour. That gave me enough time to grab a quick bite before I headed back to the Iron to see what Albert had to say. I wouldn’t interfere with Annie’s class if I stayed out on the front porch, or at the very least, in front of the store. I knew from past experience that parts of the sessions would take place at her counter near the grill, but I should be able to avoid them if I timed things correctly. Still, I thought about driving somewhere to get a bite to eat, but I really didn’t have that much time if I was going to be there when Albert arrived. Instead, I headed back to my loft apartment above the store and made myself a sandwich before Annie’s session began. I peeked out the window out back and saw her talking with Timothy Roberts. Why hadn’t the two of them ever gotten together? It was clear by the way he kept glancing at her that he was interested. Maybe I’d have to return the favor to Annie and drop a hint about Timothy. For now, though, I needed food. I’d practically lived on egg sandwiches all through college when I’d lived with three other guys. It wasn’t the only thing I knew how to cook, but it was one of the best things that I could make. It was simple enough, basically just three scrambled eggs and some melted cheese slapped between two pieces of buttered toast. It didn’t sound like much from its description, but it tasted great to me, and as a bonus, it was filling, too. I prepared my meal, ate it and had a glass of cold milk along with it as well, cleaned up my kitchen, and then went outside to the front porch to meet with Albert. I should be out of Annie’s hair there. The scent of the fire out back was unmistakable, and it reminded me of the times our folks had taken us to the cabin to enjoy a little outdoors life. Annie lived there now, and she often said it was the only place on earth that she felt like herself. The woods had stuck with my sister, but I preferred the comforts of civilization, though the scent of woodsmoke coming from in back of the Iron was pretty enticing.

  After her students were gathered inside, I sat on one of our rockers out front so I wouldn’t disturb them. While I rocked gently, I thought about the twists and turns my life had offered to date, leading me to being where I was at the moment, sitting on the front porch of a store I owned with my twin sister. We’d never planned on opening and running a store and grill together, but it had seemed like a natural offshoot of the love for cast iron we’d had ever since we’d been kids. Who would have ever realized that our first ironware finds would lead us both to our careers? I knew that I was lucky having my twin sister run the business with me. We were both close to our older sister, Kathleen, but it couldn’t compare to the bond my twin and I shared. As a general rule, Annie and I thought about most things the same way, though we certainly went about living our lives by different methods. Sometimes she drove me crazy with frustration, and I was pretty sure that the feeling was mutual every now and then, but I couldn’t imagine going through life, or even one day, without her.

  As I rocked back and forth in the comfortable chair, I found myself nodding off. I’d been sitting there for well over half an hour waiting, and I’d had a long and hard day. What could a short nap hurt while I waited for Albert to show up? Annie’s class had moved out back, so it was safe to go into the Iron. Quickly grabbing a blanket from inside, I moved back out and settled in, enjoying the peace and serenity of the setting.

  I awoke with a start. Running a hand through my hair, I wondered how long I’d napped. A quick glance at my watch told me that it had been over an hour since I’d shut my eyes! Albert was late, but I tried not to read too much into it. Night was falling earlier and earlier these days, and it was now fully dark outside. Wrapping the blanket around my shoulders, I decided to
go inside and wait for him. There were a few chores I could do in the meantime since Annie’s crowd was outside sitting by the fire, but I stayed near the front so I’d see Albert when he approached.

  Ninety minutes later, I began to get a sinking feeling in my gut.

  Albert wasn’t going to make it, at least not that night.

  I just hoped that something tragic hadn’t kept him from making our appointment.

  CHAPTER 7: ANNIE

  Teaching outdoor classes on the culinary delights of cooking with cast iron was one of my favorite things about running the Iron with Pat.

  My class was a diverse lot, ranging from: Peggy Chapel, a teacher at the elementary school; Jacob Blackberry, our local doctor; Sally Tremont, a woman who could burn water; Harriet Parton, a member of our town council; and finally, Misty Long, a newlywed now married to Kevin Long, who happened to be one of my best customers at the Cast Iron Grill. Misty was determined to learn how to cook her husband’s favorite meals even if it killed her, which was entirely possible if her past efforts were any indication. It was an odd group, but then again, they usually were. All they needed was a desire to cook with cast iron, and that’s the only thing that I really cared about. Doc Blackberry had surprised me when he’d first signed up, but he’d explained that he wanted to see how I made the magic happen, so how could I refuse him?

  Everyone was gathered in back standing around the fire-ring, where a substantial amount of wood was now burning down nicely into coals, a requirement for the cooking method I was about to teach them. Timothy had a secondary fire off to one side where he occasionally fed more wood, keeping it burning nicely as a stockpile for more coals when we needed them, but the massive fire-ring was where the actual cooking would take place. “If everyone will come inside, we can get started,” I said.

  I smiled at Timothy as I walked in, who returned it threefold. Misty trailed behind and asked me softly, “Are you two dating, Annie?”

  How could she have heard about it that quickly? I’d only just agreed, and while I knew that gossip flew at a blazing pace in a town as small as Maple Crest, that was still a record. Then I studied her gaze for a moment and realized that she’d just made an educated guess based on that one exchange of looks. “Not yet,” I said, which was the complete and utter truth at that point.

  She patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. From the way he was looking at you, I’ll wager that it will be sooner rather than later.”

  It was time to change the subject. “Speaking of budding romance, how’s married life treating you?”

  Misty frowned for a moment before she replied. “The truth is that it’s not as easy as I thought it would be. That’s why I’m hoping this will make things a little better.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure it will get better soon.”

  “Me, too,” she said, though she clearly lacked confidence in the statement. My mother had often said that the hardest year of her marriage had been the first one, and I’d since heard the sentiment echoed more than once. At least I didn’t have to worry about that, not with my prospects.

  I found my class sitting at the stools at the counter where my diners ate, but that wasn’t part of the plan this evening. “If everyone will come around to this side, we can get started.”

  “Seriously? There’s no room for all of us back there,” Sally said shrilly.

  “Come on, we can squeeze in,” Doc Blackberry said happily. He was clearly intent on enjoying himself.

  “Maybe you can,” she said dubiously.

  “Sally, quit making such a fuss,” Harriet Parton said sternly. She had a scowl on her face that was out of character from her usual disposition. Was she that unhappy with Sally’s comment, or was something else troubling her?

  “Let’s all listen to Annie and do as she says,” Peggy said with authority, using her best teaching voice, one that left no room for mutiny.

  To my amazement, they all did exactly as they were told. I was going to have to study that tone and inflection Peggy had just used. It would come in handy in the future if I could master it; I just knew it. The elementary school teacher took out a small notebook and prepared to take notes, something she did at every stage of my instruction for the rest of the class.

  Before there were any other distractions, I said, “Each of you needs to claim a spot behind a cutting board and choose a knife. I’ll be on the other side for a change, giving you instructions on what to do next as you work.”

  I stopped off at the fridge on my way around the counter then tarried at the pantry long enough to grab what I needed for the first round of chores. After I was well stocked, I faced my students from the stool side of the counter. As I walked down the line, I handed out green bell peppers, sweet Vidalia onions, and small red new potatoes.

  “What are we supposed to do with these?” Sally asked pointedly.

  “I’m getting to it,” I said, forcing a smile I wasn’t feeling. “Let’s all be patient, shall we?”

  I had a hunch that patience wasn’t one of her virtues, so I decided to try to make this segment of class go a little quicker than I’d originally planned. Reaching back to a free counter where I’d stowed them earlier, I put one of my Dutch ovens we’d be using tonight in front of them.

  “In case you didn’t know it, this is a Dutch oven. It’s a Lodge #12, meaning that it’s twelve inches across. Weighing in at a hefty nineteen pounds, it’s ironware that means business.”

  “What makes it a Dutch oven?” the doctor asked.

  “In my opinion, it’s because it’s got three legs and a lip on the lid to hold coals in place,” I explained.

  “But why do they call it Dutch and not Belgian?” he asked.

  I was ready for that question, since I got it nearly every time I taught. “No one knows for sure, but one of the theories is that the casting process was originally Dutch, and thus the new ovens took on the name. Other origin theories include the fact that Dutch peddlers sold them, and one premise even claims that Dutch settlers in Pennsylvania were the first people to ever use them.”

  “Does the name’s origin really matter?” Sally asked. “I want to see what it can do in action; I don’t really care how it got its name. You can call it a pretty yellow bonnet, for all I care.”

  “That would hardly suit, would it?” Harriet asked, definitely on edge. I needed to pull her aside and see if I could discover what was wrong with her, or her mood might spoil what would otherwise be a good class. I’d been counting on her usual good nature to offset Sally’s dour attitude, but now it seemed as though I had two of them on my hands.

  “Let’s get started with the actual prep work, shall we?” I suggested, trying hard to lighten the mood. “To start with, we need to cut the vegetables in front of you into large chunks. A delicate dice won’t do here, because these veggies have to stand up to a long cooking time, so if we make them too small, they’ll just turn into mush.”

  I grabbed my cutting board and knife and demonstrated on a large green pepper. Cutting it into four different pieces along its equator, I tumbled everything into the pot after I removed most of the central stem.

  “What about the seeds?” Misty asked.

  “You don’t have to be fussy about getting every one of them out. They won’t hurt anything. Oh, I almost forgot. It’s probably not necessary, but I usually add half a cup of water to help produce steam while everything is cooking. Some folks use beer or wine, but water works just fine as well.” Once I added the water, I reached down and retrieved the other two ovens in turn and then faced my class. “Now remember, be careful while you’re cutting. Those knives are sharp.” I’d made them all sign waivers when they’d first enrolled in the class that they wouldn’t hold me or the Iron liable in case of mishap. Watching Misty wield her knife made me realize that it was a valid precaution indeed. They finally managed to prep the vegetables to my satisfaction, so I retrieved the ribs and placed two halves into each pot.

  “Why do they go on top and not the
bottom?” Peggy asked.

  “If we put them there, the meat would burn in no time.”

  “What about the veggies, then?” Misty asked. “Won’t they get burned?”

  “It’s okay if they get a little scorched in the process. The heat on the bottom will help them cook, and the meat is the most important ingredient to protect.” After the ribs were all in place, I took three bottles of my favorite barbeque sauce and placed one in front of each Dutch oven.

  “What are we supposed to do with those?” Sally asked.

  “Open them up and rub the contents onto the ribs.”

  “I’m not doing that. It sounds disgusting,” Sally said.

  “I don’t mind doing it,” Peggy said. “It sounds like fun to me.”

  “It would,” Sally said, but everyone else chose to ignore her.

  Once everything was ready, I put each lid in its rightful place as I said, “Now we can carry these out to the fire and get everything cooking.”

  I lifted one of the pots by its wire handle. It was a great deal heavier now than it had been, and I was careful with it as I made my way out back. Doc Blackberry grabbed another one, and I thought I was going to have to come back for the third one when Peggy jumped in and got it herself. I was really beginning to like the schoolteacher.

  “Are you ready for us?” I asked Timothy as we joined him back outside.

  Now it was his turn to teach a little of my class. Taking his shovel, he moved the coals around until he had three nests of heat. Taking each pot in turn, he placed them carefully, banking the sides with coals as well after all of the pots were where they needed to be. There were plenty of coals left over, and he divided these among the three lids and scattered them on the tops, allowing for even baking.

  “That’s the mix of coals you’re looking for. It’s as easy as that,” he said. “Are there any questions?”