“I am getting very tired of renting the same cottages over and over.” Alice Johnson, the manager of Shady Acres, plopped into a chair next to me, Shelby Hart. “I mean, seriously. Between deaths and murderers, all of which started occurring after I hired you, this place is a revolving door.”
Seriously? How could she possibly think any of this was my fault?
Alice sipped her iced tea. “Now that the apartments in the main building are renovated, we can fill those rooms and the empty cottages.” Her eyes shined. “With everything together, we have one hundred places to rent.”
“You’ve done a good job as manager here.” I glanced to where Heath filled his plate at the buffet. Not only was he the handsomest man in Arkansas, but he was also my boyfriend and had helped get me out of more than one tight spot in the last year.
I cut my fork into runny eggs and grimaced. The new cook left a lot to be desired in her culinary skills.
“This is awful.” Alice tossed down a bread roll. “I must speak with the chef immediately.” Without an “excuse me” or “goodbye” she headed for the kitchen.
Considering the sentiments from the residents echoing around the dining room, more than one person agreed with Alice and I on the quality of the food.
“Good morning, beautiful.” Heath sat in the chair Alice had vacated. “What’s wrong?”
“The new chef is terrible.” I shoved my plate away.
“Maybe she just needs to settle in.” Always the optimist, Heath took a healthy serving of clumpy oatmeal. “Yuck.”
“See?” I crossed my arms and stared toward the kitchen as cries of outrage grew louder.
I loved the residents of Shady Acres, I truly did, but one thing falls out of place or the quality slips, and they were quick to riot. I watched as Bob Satchett, ringleader of the Poker Boys, stormed to the kitchen right along with his four cohorts and a new resident by the name of Lloyd Dane. I hadn’t met Lloyd yet, but his salt and pepper hair and haughty attitude had the single golden ladies in a whirl.
“I am going to waste away with this slop.” Grandma, skinny to the point of being blown away, followed by my much quieter mother, joined us at the table.
“Unless you’re willing to cook, hush,” Mom said.
“Easy for you to say. You haven’t taken a bite yet.” Grandma frowned and reached for her water goblet. “I’ll get something in my cabin.”
Mom shrugged. “What’s on the agenda today, Shelby? I have some phone calls to make. Alice said once all the cottages and rooms are rented, I can have a raise.”
“I have some work to do in the vegetable garden.” Not to mention another weekly social. I was to the point where we were going to have to repeat some of our earlier activities. As gardener and event coordinator, don’t forget Alice’s personal assistant, I had more work than time. So, Mom felt compelled to lessen my load when she could. “You make your calls. My day is light.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Are you just saying that?”
“Nope. Honest.” Some weeding in the vegetable garden, some herbs to cut, then a ride around the grounds in my new golf cart to make sure nothing was amiss, and I was good to go.
“I’m painting the last of the upstairs apartments,” Heath said. “Then, you can start filling them up, Sue Ellen.”
I gave Heath a quick kiss, then set my plate on the sideboard. I grabbed what looked like a crescent from a can and munched on it as I made my way to the garden.
Passing the pool area, I glanced through the gate. “Mornin’ Ted.”
“Mornin’. Looking for trouble?” Former police officer, now retired, Ted Lawrence couldn’t resist bringing up the mysteries I’d gotten involved in in the past. “If you see Ida, tell her I’m waiting.”
Did I mention he dated my Grandmother and had moved into one of the cottages? “She’s at breakfast.” I waved and continued on my way.
Late summer and the sun was already hot on my head as I knelt in the dirt and pulled weeds. I slowly made my way toward my herbs, noting a fresh patch of dirt. Something had been planted recently, and not by me. I eyed the parsley looking plant. Something the cook needed? One of the residents?
The garden was there for kitchen, staff, and residents. It wasn’t unheard of for me to run across something I hadn’t planted. I shrugged and let the plant be.
Loud voices across the way had me peering over the hedge like a nosey old woman. Our over-weight, five foot ten inch chef, Joyce Rhodes was staring down at pink-haired Birdie Sorenson as if she wanted to stomp the smaller woman into the ground.
Birdie planted her fists on her tiny hips and glared. “It ain’t my fault you cook worse than a five-year-old.”
“I spent years—years—in culinary school. How dare you!” Joyce’s face reddened.
“Nobody likes the food you cook. Why, I saw those men march into the kitchen.”
“Men, pshaw!” Joyce spit. “Not worth the gold in their teeth. Any of them. The world would be better off without them.”
I tended to disagree. I rather liked men. Before the two women could come to blows, I stepped from around the hedge. “Hello.” I pasted on my cheesiest, er, cheeriest, grin.
“Butt out, Shelby.” Birdie turned her wrath on me.
“What did I do?” I held up my hands.
“You’re going to tell me to be nice.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion.”
“Great.” Joyce turned toward the pool. “Here comes the cop.” She whirled and stormed back to the main building.
“Ladies.” Ted cocked his head. “Everything all right?”
“Peachy.” Birdie marched away.
I looked at Ted and shrugged. “Difference of opinion on the food.”
“Hmm.” He glanced in the direction the women had gone. “Not boring around here, that’s for sure.”
“Not for long anyway.” I said goodbye and headed for my storage shed.
More of the strange parsley had been planted along the side. Strange. There was plenty of room in the garden. I bent and plucked one from the ground, noting the radish shaped roots. It had to be a weed. I’d never seen an herb of its type before…or a vegetable.
I pulled up the plants and tossed them in a nearby garbage can before retrieving my golf cart. Moments later, floppy straw hat low on my head, I set off at the speed of ten miles per hour. Barely enough to cause a breeze strong enough to cool me off.
Mr. Dane stumbled in front of me, bent over and clutching his stomach. I hit the brakes and put the cart in park. I jumped from the vehicle and rushed to his side.
“Are you all right, Mr. Dane?”
“Call me Lloyd. We’re both adults.” Perspiration dotted his forehead. He moaned and swayed. “That woman’s awful cooking. I bet I have food poisoning.”
“Hop in. I’ll give you a ride to your cottage. Or would you rather go to the hospital?”
“I’ve some antacid in my room. That ought to take care of the problem.”
Praying he wouldn’t vomit in my ride, I helped him onto the seat, placed in hand in the “Oh, no!” strap, and sped at twelve miles per hour toward his cottage. Surely, Alice would forgive the two miles over her self-imposed speed limit.
Lloyd was gasping for breath by the time I helped him to his sofa. I grabbed the wall phone and dialed 911.
I knew the symptoms of food poisoning and this wasn’t it.
Lloyd was bent double in pain, breathing in short gulps of air. “Everything is blurry. I ache all over.”
The flu maybe? I rushed to get him a drink of water, keeping the phone to my ear as the 911 operator instructed. Ted arrived before the ambulance.
He burst into the cottage. “I heard the scanner.” He knelt next to Lloyd. “Can you hear me?”
“I ain’t deaf. Just sick.” Lloyd closed his eyes. “Real sick.”
“What have you eaten or drank?”
“Nothing since that mess at breakfast.”
That was hours ago. “He thought he might have food poisoning,” I said.
“No food poisoning I ever saw,” Ted said, standing.
“Paramedics are here.” I stood back as two men rushed forward and helped Lloyd onto a gurney.
“I’ll go with them. Tell Ida where I’ve gone.”
I nodded, knowing Alice would spit nails if I didn’t tell her, too. “I hope you’re better soon, Lloyd.”
He waved a hand in response as he was wheeled out the door just as the lunch bell rang. I sighed and headed for the dining room.
The place was half full. It seemed as if most of the residents had chosen to eat in their homes. A pity, considering the three buffet meals a day were included in the price of their rent.
“Shelby.” Grandma rushed toward me. “Ted just called me. Put that sandwich down or you’ll be in the hospital with Lloyd.”
I eyed the ham and cheese. “It looks like it’s fine.”
She slapped it down. “You mind me.”
Sighing, I tossed the sandwich in the garbage. “What am I supposed to eat?”
“I’ve several frozen dinners at my place. You’ll join me, Sue Ellen, and Heath.”
Gross. I hated processed food. “Just this once.”
She wagged a finger in my face. “You’ll eat what I serve until that chef is replaced.”
Feeling like a scolded child, I followed her to her cottage. Laughter rang out before we’d opened the door. Dressed in a frilly red apron, Heath stood at the stove, spatula in hand.
“Omelets for lunch.” He grinned and slid one on the plate.
“You’re amazing.” I gave him a warm kiss and carried my treasure to the table.
“I know you aren’t a fan of frozen meals.”
“What’s wrong with them?” Grandma glowered.
“They aren’t good for you, Grandma.” I cut into an omelet with bacon, cheese, mushrooms, and spinach.
“Who says? I’m the picture of good health. Sue Ellen?”
“Sorry, Mother, I’m having a vegetable omelet.” She took the plate offered by Heath.
“Do eggs go with wine?” Grandma pouted.
“They go great with mimosas.” Heath handed her a fluted glass of champagne and orange juice.
“Hold on to him, Shelby. He knows what a girl wants when she wants it.” Grandma lifted the glass to her lips.
I smiled over her head at Heath. Grandma was right. He was a true treasure. One I’d almost let go out of distrust of men. Getting jilted at the altar did that to a woman.
Soon, all four of us were eating a delicious lunch and enjoying wonderful company. Everyone I cared about was around the white dinette table with me.
My cell phone rang. Recognizing Ted’s number, I answered, “Hello?”
“Shelby, Lloyd just died. He was poisoned.”