A Taste Of Death

By Michaeline Della Fera

Food, flowers, and murder! Small town PI, Cecce DeLuca, is drawn into a web of intrigue and murder when she decides to attend a cooking demonstration. The chef, Loulou Watson, falls to her death in front of Cecce's eyes. But was it really an accident? Or a well planned plot to murder the would-be-celebrity chef?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 23, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597053198

Book preview

One

CECCE DELUCA WEDGED her right hand in to the pocket of her navy blue slacks. After several attempts, she finally squeezed her hand in far enough to touch the small, round nuggets of chocolate. Perfecto!

What’s the matter? Ginny Townsend asked.

I’m hungry. I brought some M&Ms just in case.

We’re at a cooking demonstration and a tasting. Can’t you wait a few minutes?

I can’t wait, Cecce whispered. I’m hungry now. You don’t want me fainting on the floor, do you? Besides, what if the portions are small?

Eat your M&Ms, but be quiet.

Cecce slipped the handful of red, green and brown M&Ms into her mouth and chewed, savoring each bite. A few M&Ms wouldn’t matter in the scheme of things. Even though her scale said she weighed two hundred twenty-five and one quarter pounds, all five feet, six inches of her felt fit and fine. All of her thirty-nine years and eight months she had spent trying to convince her scale to dip below two hundred. It was as if the scale had a mind of its own.

While she sucked and chewed the delicious chocolate morsels and chomped down on the crunchy shell, Cecce’s eyes roamed around the spacious room. It made sense to have space to offer cooking lessons upstairs from a store specializing in cooking and kitchen utensils. In the past, she remembered seeing ads for Spanish and Italian cooking classes, even ads for a special family Christmas or New Year’s Eve dinner. She wasn’t sure why this particular demonstration attracted her so much.

It was a great idea, Ginny said, to sign up for this cooking demonstration. I’ve never even thought of cooking with edible flowers. How did you find out about this?

"I saw an ad in The Telegraph and it sounded interesting. You know my mother’s a fabulous cook, but she only cooks Italian. I like variety."

Cecce looked around the large room that served as a kitchen. Along the back wall, the tall, gray, stainless steel refrigerator looked big enough to hold food for an army. Next to the refrigerator was a matching, stainless steel wall unit containing two ovens. The counter had two inlaid sinks, a stovetop and pots and pans hanging from long wrought iron hooks attached to the ceiling.

You just like food, Ginny whispered. Ssh, here she comes.

CHEF MARY LOU WATSON opened the door that led from the back room to the demonstration area and squared her shoulders. She ran her hand through her unruly hair to flatten it down. She turned around once and checked her smile in the mirror, plopped her chef’s hat on her head, then ran to meet her audience. Her black jeans and black tee shirt were hardly noticeable beneath her spotless, white apron. Emblazoned across the front of the apron in large, red lettering was ‘Eat right. Stay light with Loulou.’ As she approached the counter, she smiled a couple of forced smiles, and then ran her hands down the length of the apron to smooth out any wrinkles.

The tall, white chef’s hat perched precariously on her brown curly hair weaved back and forth and she reached up to hold it in place. Nasturtiums, pansies, carnations, Johnny jump ups and other edible flowers had been hand painted on the front and back of the hat. She straightened it, then held on to it with one hand as she greeted her audience.

Loulou waved at the audience. Welcome. I hope you enjoy tonight’s demonstration. I’m going to show you how to take ordinary garden variety flowers and turn them into a luscious meal.

She took the hat off her head and placed it on the counter. She reached over and turned on one of the faucets and began washing her hands. Look, no germs, she said as she held up her hands for inspection. Now let’s get down to business.

Finally, Cecce whispered.

Shhh, Ginny said. She might be able to hear you.

Loulou rubbed her hands together, made eye contact with everyone in the audience, and announced, Spring adds a new dimension to cooking. It brings flavor and pizzazz to ordinary, routine meals. She made a grand, sweeping motion with her hand toward the end of the counter. Cecce followed her exaggerated motion with her eyes.

A collection of brightly colored flower petals sat at the end of the counter on a large, oval, white ceramic platter. Flashing a gleaming, white-toothed smile, Loulou said, Tonight I’m preparing... Oh, let’s skip to the best part of the meal: dessert. She pointed her long, manicured nails at a plate near the edge of the counter. This delicious looking concoction is a lemon verbena cake. She ran her index finger through the lime basil sorbet sitting in the center of the cake. She licked the sorbet off her finger saying, Delicioso! I’ll try not to eat it all. Don’t worry. I’ll save some for all of you.

Most of the audience laughed and Ginny snickered. Cecce forced a smile and said, She better not eat it all. I want some of everything. This cost me forty-five dollars. When do we get to the tasting part?

Relax, Ginny said.

I’m hungry.

And over here, Loulou pointed, we have edible flowers. We won’t use them all, but I want to introduce you to them. There are rules for eating edible flowers. First, never, ever eat flowers that have been sprayed with pesticides. Chemicals are toxic. Not all flowers are edible. Some are poisonous. Don’t eat any flowers unless you’re very sure they’re edible. At the back of the hall is a list of edible flowers. Please take one on your way out. Second, all flowers should be picked fully open and in the cool of the day, after the dew has evaporated. It is...

Is she ever going to stop talking? Cecce leaned over and whispered in Ginny’s ear.

Ssh, this is interesting.

...To sample several flowers before harvesting. That’s enough chitchat, Loulou said. I see someone in the audience who’s hungry. Let’s get on with the demonstration.

Ginny kicked Cecce in the foot and said, Cut it out. She can see you.

Cecce slumped in her chair, while Loulou pulled out several pots and pans and began cooking penne with edible flowers. My mother could make this one, Cecce whispered. I want something else besides pasta. What’s her last name? Just my luck. She’s probably Italian.

After the penne is cooked and tossed with the olive oil, garlic and sun dried tomatoes, then add an assortment of chopped flowers such as nasturtiums, pansies, dandelions and, she dropped a handful of the petals on to the pasta and each one seemed to land in just the spot she wanted. ...And then finish it off with some whole flowers. With a flourish, she dropped a handful of flowers on top of the pasta.

Cecce licked her lips. Clouds, heavy with the aroma of olive oil and crushed, sautéed garlic, floated above her head. The dish looked delicious, and she couldn’t wait to have a taste.

Loulou motioned to two women who walked over and picked up round plates with a small mound of penne placed squarely in the middle. This lovely lady with the black hair is Annette Farley, and this other lovely lady with the blond hair is Linda Goodman. If you need anything just signal one of them. They’re my assistants and they’re paid to work, not to eat. Loulou smiled and the women began passing the dishes out to the audience. Cecce turned around and started counting.

What’s the matter now? Ginny asked.

While Cecce turned to count the audience, she took a close look at the room. The focal point of the room was an island with a bright green, speckled Formica counter top, a stainless steel stove, and two sinks. The stainless steel refrigerator, built-in oven and microwave were in a wall two or three steps behind the island. Five, large spotlights hung from the ceiling illuminating the chef’s area. Shiny pots and pans hung from large, wrought iron hooks over the stove. Cecce guessed she could put five of her galley kitchens in this space. There are thirty of us in the audience, she finally said. I just want to make sure there’s enough food to go around.

She’s done this before, Ginny said and put a reassuring hand on Cecce’s arm. There’ll be enough.

Cecce waited anxiously while the woman on her side of the audience passed dishes to everyone in the row before her and then ran out. She went back to the counter, picked up some more dishes and started passing them out in the last row. She turned around and looked. As the dishes passed from hand to hand, Cecce inhaled the aroma of garlic and olive oil. There wasn’t a better smell in the world. She always hoped some enterprising candle company would be brave enough to make garlic, olive oil scented candles. She’d buy them all up.

Turn around, Ginny said. They’re coming to our row."

Finally, Cecce said as a dish was passed to her. She picked up her fork and dug in. Three forkfuls later, she said, What’s next? That was good.

Now, Loulou said, may I have a volunteer? She looked around the audience. For the first time that evening, the audience was quiet.

How about it audience? Do I have a brave volunteer? Loulou asked again.

This time, several hands shot up quickly, and Cecce put her hands under her thighs and pressed down. With her hand waving frantically, Ginny asked, Aren’t you going to volunteer?

Not on your life! I’m not getting up in front of anyone.

Why?

After all the years they had been friends, Ginny should have known she’d be too embarrassed to get up in front of an audience. How would she look standing next to a slim chef? She didn’t even want to think about it. Besides, the evening was being videotaped and she knew how much weight a camera added to what she already had. No, she wouldn’t volunteer even if someone held a gun to her head.

You don’t have to know how to cook. You just have to hand me things while I do all the work. Loulou smiled and gazed out at the audience. She was debating about who to pick. She looked over at the blond woman in the fourth row and then at the good-looking guy in the last row. Then finally at the over eager woman in the first row, who was waving her hand in her face.

Let me see, Loulou said focusing on no one in particular and yet leaving everyone with the feeling that she was looking directly at them. That always made the over eager even more eager. Hands waved and someone shouted, Me. Me.

When Loulou finally decided she said, How about you, the hungry one in the third row?

All eyes turned to the third row. God, that’s you, Ginny said. How lucky can you be? I didn’t see your hand go up.

I didn’t volunteer. You know I would never get up in front of an audience. She has the wrong person, Cecce answered. She counted the rows over. She was here to eat, not to cook or to get up in front of an audience.

Yes, you, Loulou said beckoning for Cecce to come up to join her.

But I don’t cook, Cecce said, slinking down in her chair.

As I said. You don’t have to know how to cook. Come on up. Loulou gave an exaggerated wave with her hand and smiled.

Ginny gave Cecce a shove in the shoulder. Go ahead. She won’t bite.

Oh, all right. But I’m not going to enjoy this. Cecce waited for everyone in the aisle to step aside so she could pass.

Here comes our volunteer, Loulou announced. Let’s give her a big round of applause.

Cecce’s face turned red as the audience clapped. She wished she had been smart enough to sit in the last row. But she smiled a fake smile, as she approached the counter. Maybe she’d get more to eat this way. There’s always a silver lining to every cloud.

While our volunteer is getting ready... Loulou turned, then asked, By the way what is your name?

Cecce DeLuca.

Sounds Italian.

Yes.

And where do you live?

Hollis.

My, my, we seem to have a woman of few words. Loulou smiled and the audience laughed.

While Loulou asked questions, the assistant with black hair who had passed out the dishes with the penne, handed Cecce an apron and waited for her to put it on. Cecce held the apron up in front of her and winced. The ties weren’t long enough to reach around her. No matter, the woman whispered in her ear. I’ll just tuck them into your waist band. Don’t make any sudden moves.

Cecce whispered, Thanks. And then she announced, I’m ready. But remember I don’t cook.

An Italian who doesn’t cook, Loulou said while she placed several pans in front of her and Cecce. Did all of you know that the use of flowers for cooking dates back thousands of years with the first recorded mention in 140 B.C.? Many different cultures used flowers in their traditional foods. Oriental dishes make use of daylily buds, the Romans used mallow, roses and violets. Italian and Hispanic cultures gave us stuffed squash blossoms, and Asian Indians still use rose petals in many recipes. Did you know Chartreuse, a classic, green liqueur developed in France in the seventeenth century, boasts carnation petals as one of its secret ingredients? And, dandelions were one of the bitter herbs referred to in the Old Testament? Well, did you know that? Loulou asked turning to face Cecce.

Only about the Italian stuffed squash blossoms and the dandelions. They’re both delicious.

Edible flowers make great gifts at Christmas, Loulou said handing Cecce a bottle that was wide at the bottom and slowly grew to a narrow, delicate opening at the top. I love giving nasturtium vinegar for a gift. Just put about a cup of nasturtium leaves, flowers and buds... She passed the plate to Cecce and signaled for her to place everything in the bottle. Cecce swept her hand across the plate and pushed the flowers into the bottle. But the top was so small that most of the flowers fell to the floor. She bent over, then decided not to pick them up.

That’s okay, Loulou announced. You did say you didn’t cook. She looked over at Cecce and smiled. Then add a pint of your favorite champagne, wine or cider vinegar. She passed the champagne bottle to Cecce saying, Do you need help pouring?

Cecce felt heat on the back of her neck, but she smiled at Loulou and said, No, I think I can handle it. She poured the pale, colored champagne into the bottle, put the cap on and smiled.

Good for you, Loulou said. Now just put it on a shelf and give freely at Christmas time.

Loulou went to the end of the counter and dragged over a large, crystal punch bowl. This bowl belonged to my grandmother. She took a clean, white cloth and wiped the outside of the bowl and then the inside. So, I’m the third generation fortunate enough to have this bowl. It means a lot to me so... She looked over at Cecce. Don’t drop it. The audience laughed, and Cecce turned red again. She hoped the cameras weren’t picking up every shade of red her face had turned. She knew she shouldn’t have let Loulou and Ginny talk her into volunteering. She’d get back at Ginny later.

Now, Loulou said. On to one of my favorite parts of the evening. We’re going to make limoncello.

Cecce smiled. Immediately her mind went back to the wintry, cold Saturday nights when her mom and dad would sit around the living room playing some board game with her. They’d spend the evening sipping the tart, strong, yellow liqueur in small, chiseled, Venetian glasses that had been sent to them from Venice by her mother’s cousin, Olivia. Her dad would send her mother into the kitchen on a pretend errand, and then he would quickly hand the glass to Cecce and let her take a sip. Those were good days.

That’s right, Loulou said. It’s a delicious way to end a meal. And the Italians do it all the time. It’s easy to make. I’ll let Cecce start with the sugar and water. She handed Cecce a pan and said, It has to come to a boil. Don’t stir.

Cecce put the pan on the stove and watched it.

A watched pot doesn’t boil, Loulou said and laughed. The only one in the audience she heard laughing was Ginny.

Don’t give up your day job, Loulou said. By the way, you didn’t say what you do.

I’m a private investigator.

I must admit, Loulou said. This is the first time I’ve had a P.I. as an assistant. Now we’ll add lemon flowers to this mixture. Ordinarily this mixture would infuse for a week. But, as soon as I add the vodka, we’re going to try some. It won’t be as good, but I think everyone will go home happy.

Cecce watched as Loulou poured in the vodka, stirred the mixture a few times and then began ladling some of the liquid into small cups. She handed the cups to the women who had passed out the penne. Would you like to help pass the cups around?

Cecce took the cups that Loulou handed her and began to leave the counter. She watched as Loulou picked up a long stem, fluted glass, covered in hand-painted flowers. She ladled some of the limoncello into it and said, Might as well join you. No fun drinking alone. She took two sips, then emptied her glass in one long sip. She ladled in a second helping.

Cecce walked down to the first row and passed out the cups in her hands, then returned to the counter. She looked over at Loulou and noticed a sheen of sweat on her forehead. Are you okay?

I think so. I just got a bit dizzy. Must be the lights. Do you see the yellow halo around those lights?

Cecce looked at the lights. They were bright and hot and made her squint, but she didn’t see a halo. No, I don’t see anything.

I can’t remember what I’m supposed to do next. Loulou leaned her right hand on the counter and said, Do something.

Cecce stared at Loulou who was staring into the lights and wiping her forehead with her sleeve. She looked unsteady on her feet. Loulou has asked me to tell everyone that tonight’s demonstration is over. Don’t forget to pick up your list of edible flowers on your way out.

Two

Cecce and Ginny helped put the last of the dishes into a cardboard box. Ginny held the top shut, while Cecce taped it. Anything else? she looked over at Loulou and asked.

Loulou picked up a dishtowel and wiped it across her forehead. God, it’s hot in here. But you really don’t have to stay. My assistants Annette and Linda will help me pack everything up.

Loulou wiped her forehead again and said, What a mess. We usually wash all the dishes, glasses, and pots and pans before packing them up, but I’m so tired that I told Annette and Linda just to pack up and I’d wash everything tomorrow.

Cecce and Ginny looked at each other and shrugged. Cecce said, We don’t mind helping.

Loulou looked around. Thank you for helping. I like being able to rent this kitchen, but it’s so much work setting up and then packing everything when I’m done. Someday I’m going to own my own kitchen and studio.

Would you like some help getting everything out to your van? Cecce asked.

I guess we could use some help. I’m glad you stayed. Usually my husband comes near the end of my demos and helps me pack up and get everything into the van, but he had a meeting tonight.

Cecce put her arms around the crystal punch bowl and picked it up. Boy, this is heavy, she said.

Oh, put that down, Loulou snapped as soon as Cecce turned to leave the counter.

I’ll carry that. This bowl was my grandmother’s. I don’t trust anyone else carrying it.

Cecce put the bowl back on the counter and piled two boxes on top of each other. The bowl isn’t that heavy, she said, but I’ll take these boxes down first. If you’re not feeling any better when I come back, I’ll bring the bowl down.

I think I feel a bit better, Loulou said, wrapping her arms around the bowl and struggling to pick it up. She put the bowl down again on the counter, inhaled, wrapped her arms around it, and locked the fingers of both hands together. She gave a heave and swayed back and forth. Regaining her balance, she cradled the bowl snugly against her chest. I’m going to make my first trip. It usually takes us... I can’t remember how many trips it usually takes us.

Cecce looked at Loulou. She looked exhausted and sweat was still dripping down the sides of her face and neck. I’ll follow you, Cecce said.

Loulou tightened her grip on the bowl, took a few steps and stopped.

What’s the matter? Cecce asked.

I don’t know. I feel nauseous. Guess I must be getting the flu.

Why don’t you let Ginny and me take everything down for you?

No. I can manage. I have to... Instead of finishing her sentence, Loulou started walking toward the stairs. She put her foot on the first step and stopped. She hitched the bowl up, tightened her grip, then put her foot out for the next step.

Loulou’s foot slipped off of the step and she fell forward. Her body crashed sideways into the railing and Cecce heard the wood crack, but the railing held. Instead of stopping, Loulou’s body lunged sideways, crashing into the wall on the opposite side of the stairway. She screamed as her body careened downward. Loud thumps echoed in the hallway as her body hit each step then continued plunging downward. When Loulou thumped to a stop at the bottom of the stairway, a large circle of blood began to ooze slowly around her head and pool around her hair.

When Loulou missed the first step, Cecce’s mouth opened. She’d meant to scream to Ginny to grab hold of Loulou as she tumbled and rolled down the stairs. But instead, she shouted to Loulou, Let go of the bowl. Grab the railing.

But Loulou held on to the bowl. Cecce dropped the two boxes she was carrying and they crashed to the floor, splitting open. The dishes spilled out, shattering into tiny pieces and scattering across the stairway. Cecce ran the few steps to the top of the stairway and reached out for Loulou, but she was already at the bottom. She ran down the stairs.

Loulou. Loulou, she whispered into her ear. But Loulou didn’t move. Both of her legs were twisted and bent sideways like a frog sunning itself. Her knees faced the wall rather than the floor. Cecce put her hand on Loulou’s wrist and then on her neck. Nothing.

Oh, my God Ginny said, as she ran down the stairs and leaned over Cecce’s back.

Call 911. Cecce turned Loulou on her back, and Ginny gasped so loud, Cecce