Delicious and Suspicious Read online

  Table of Contents

  Epigraph

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Recipes

  “A saucy Southern mystery!”

  —Krista Davis, national bestselling author of

  The Diva Runs Out of Thyme

  Murder in Memphis

  Lulu felt queasy. She was not a fan of scenes and there had been far too many over the past twenty-four hours.

  Tony thumped his fist on the door. “Rebecca!” he bellowed. “Rebecca! I want to talk to you.”

  Tony tried the door, but of course it was locked. He thumped loudly on her door again.

  “You don’t think,” asked Lulu, “she killed herself, do you?”

  “With poison? No way. If she’d planned it, she’d want to be found tucked in her bed, looking like Sleeping Beauty. Besides, being banned from Aunt Pat’s wouldn’t have made her suicidal, you know.”

  “When you put it that way, it does sound a little silly.”

  Ten minutes later Tony was back with the manager and one of the hotel’s security men. The manager inserted a master key and opened the door a crack. “Miss Adrian?” He waited, listening hard, but hearing no response. He pushed the door open farther. “Miss Adrian?”

  He stepped into the room, then backed up a step. The security man pushed them back into the hall, but Lulu was able to see a sprawled figure on the floor of the room. Rebecca Adrian—quite obviously dead.

  “Don’t let that folksy facade fool you. Lulu Taylor is one intrepid amateur sleuth.”

  —Laura Childs, New York Times bestselling author of Eggs Benedict Arnold

  “Lulu Taylor serves up the best barbeque in Memphis. Never been to her restaurant, Aunt Pat’s? Well then . . . follow Lulu as she tracks down a killer with the help of her wacky friends and family. You’ll feel transported to Beale Street.”

  —Julie Hyzy, author of Eggsecutive Orders

  “Riley Adams’s first book, Delicious and Suspicious, adds a dash of Southern humor to a sauté of murder and mayhem that is as good as cold banana pudding on a hot summer day.”

  —Joyce Lavene, coauthor of Ghastly Glass

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  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. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

  DELICIOUS AND SUSPICIOUS

  A Berkley Prime Crime Book / published by arrangement with the author

  PRINTING HISTORY

  Berkley Prime Crime mass-market edition / July 2010

  Copyright © 2010 by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  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. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  eISBN : 978-1-101-18862-0

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME

  Berkley Prime Crime Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY® PRIME CRIME and the PRIME CRIME logo are trademarks of Penguin Group

  (USA) Inc.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For my family, with love.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to Ann and John Haire for their warm hospitality, helpful information, and for so generously introducing me to their hometown of Memphis.

  My appreciation and thanks to my editor, Emily Beth Rapoport, for her enthusiasm and hard work.

  My sincere thanks to my agent, Ellen Pepus, for her thoughtful professional advice.

  Thanks to Tom and Dottie Craig for all their help during my visit to Memphis.

  To Henry and Beth Spann for being careful first readers.

  Thanks to Mary and Jed Peterson and Douglas and Jennings Boone for all their support.

  Thanks for the encouragement and inspiration from the online community of writers.

  And last but not least, to my husband, Coleman, and children Riley and Elizabeth Ruth for their constant encouragement and love.

  Chapter 1

  Memphis, Tennessee, is a little bit of heaven in the springtime. The azalea bushes burst with blooms, magnolias perfume the air, and daffodils nod sassily in the breeze. Children scamper right down the middle of the street, with their scolding mamas hustling after them. Folks pull leashes from the closet and take Buddy and Princess for a little stroll.

  The barbeque business goes into full swing. It’s never out of season, mind you. But in the springtime, it’s God’s gift. Order your barbeque to go and eat it in W.C. Handy Park on Beale Street. Listen to some live blues music, realize how good you have it to be in Memphis in the spring, and hand out a couple dollars to the street musicians who are serenading you.

  And right there on Beale Street, you can find the reigning queen of the barbequing art, Lulu Taylor. She’s not back in the kitchen anymore, of course. You’ll find her holding court in the dining room, cutting up with some customers, and buttering up others.

  “Get a load of this,” breathed Ben to his wife Sara. He steered her to the heavy wooden door of the back-room office of Aunt Pat’s. Sara peeped around the door. “Mother’s really flipped her wig this time.”

  Ben’s mother, Lulu, perched behind the desk and beamed out at empty space like it was her dearest friend. She brandi
shed, oddly enough for the office, a pair of tongs.

  “Friends,” she said earnestly. “Great barbeque is made with great tools. Your tongs and spatula need to be nice and long so you won’t burn yourself.” She sadly shook her head at the empty air again, “I’d hate for my friends to burn themselves.” At that moment, the entire effect was destroyed when the hairpin she’d carefully stuck in the hair piled up on top of her head fell out. Her white hair cascaded down. “Shoot!”

  Sara walked in the office. A slow smile spread over her good-natured, freckled face. “Having a wardrobe malfunction, Lulu? And by the way . . . what exactly are you doing?”

  “I’m practicing for my new Food Network show, naturally. This qualifies as more of a coiffure malfunction, I think.” She wound the hair up onto the top of her head again. “I’m going to have to figure out something to do with this hair of mine. Got to be ready for my close-up, you know.”

  Ben fingered his mustache as he absorbed the notion of a close-up. The mustache was a recent addition to his features—a new hairstyle to make the most of his few remaining follicles. Unfortunately, the styling necessary to give the illusion of hair on top of his head resulted in a helmetlike effect. Ben had fancied that the mustache might make him look like Tom Selleck. He had sadly come to terms with the reality of looking a lot more like Captain Kangaroo.

  Ben said, “But, Mama, this isn’t Food Network coming. Don’t you remember? It’s that other cable food channel.”

  Lulu said, “Shoot! I keep forgetting. The Cooking Channel is the name of it, that’s right. Ben, we have to be careful. We’ve got to act like the Cooking Channel is the only cable station out there! ’Cause you know they feel bad having to compete against Food Network . . . they’ve only been around for a little over a year now, and they’re small potatoes next to them.”

  “Besides, as far as I’m aware, we have a Cooking Channel scout coming here today. And the scout is scouting for the best barbeque in Memphis.” He turned to his wife. “Sara, have you heard anything about a TV show? Why am I always kept in the dark?”

  “Smarty-pants,” said Lulu. “I haven’t got the show yet, no. But with Paula Deen such a success, they might want someone like me on contract.” She stretched out her fingers and looked at them, critically. “I need big diamonds.”

  “Pardon?”

  “My wardrobe malfunction is the complete and total lack of diamonds. Paula’s just dripping with them, you know. Even keeps them on when she’s squishing up ground beef.”

  “You have big diamonds? Why the heck am I slaving every day over a fiery pit, then, if we’re so loaded?”

  Lulu leveled a quelling look at her son. “I don’t have them yet, no. But with a major contract, I could buy myself some. Or maybe,” she added vaguely, “the wardrobe department provides them. Just to use during the shows, of course.”

  Ben mouthed, “She’s lost it” to Sara. He was going to have to break it to Lulu that the Cooking Channel wardrobe department likely didn’t include Harry Winston jewelry.

  “I think you’d have better luck buying yourself some diamonds, Mother.”

  “And I should do that how?”

  “You guess every puzzle on Wheel of Fortune. Maybe you should go on the program and win yourself some big money.”

  “California is on the other side of the country, Ben. I can’t just pop over there, buy some vowels, and win big money. Plus, there’s a lot of dumb luck involved, too. That’s a big wheel to spin. I could hit ‘lose a turn’ or ‘bankrupt’ every time. I might not even have the power to spin it all the way around.” But Ben’s suggestion had clearly given Lulu ideas. Already her mental wheels spun as she tried to calculate how she might get to California.

  Her ruminations were interrupted by her younger son, Seb’s, arrival in the office. “All right—out, out,” he said, motioning to the office door. “I’ve got to get to work. Time for me to cook the books. Just kidding,” he added in response to Ben’s menacing look. “You take care of the pork. I’ll crunch the numbers.”

  “Hey, Seb, how about that hunting trip we keep talking about?” asked Ben. “Haven’t you gotten the hunting bug yet?”

  Seb sighed. He knew the kind of bugs he associated with hunting. Mosquitoes and chiggers.

  Ben continued, “You’ve been telling me for the last couple of weeks you’re ready to go. I want to throw the Labs in the truck and head out into the country.” He looked wistful. “Subdue nature for a little while.”

  Seb grinned. “Just your Labradors get to go subdue nature? What about your other dog?”

  A cloud passed over Ben’s face. Lulu hid a smile.

  “What’s her name? Yvette?”

  Ben mumbled something. Sara moved over and put a supportive arm around him.

  “What was that? Oh, right. Babette. I’m sure Babette would love to hunt something with you. Might want to take off her jewelry first, of course. And her princess sweater.”

  “You know that’s Coco’s dog!”

  “I see . . . blame it on your little girl! But we know who found the dog and laid down the money. And I don’t think it was a nine-year-old.”

  Ben glowered. “If you don’t want to go hunting, just say so.”

  “All in good time, brother,” said Seb. This hunting trip was going to be put off as long as possible. He’d spent enough time in New York to lose interest in the sweaty, remote, silent activity that hunting in the South entailed. The door chime sounded again, and Seb craned his neck around the office door. “Who is that?” Lulu peeped around the door, too. Seb did a double take and seemed to peer closer at the visitor, but by that time, Lulu’s mind was spinning.

  “That” was a sophisticated blonde dressed in casual clothes that probably cost a whole lot more than Lulu’s dressy stuff. “Got to be the Cooking Channel scout,” Lulu hissed. She scurried to the mirror. “I knew I should have worn my power suit today!”

  “Power suit?” murmured Sara.

  “From her former life as a day trader. Didn’t you know?” asked Ben, straight-faced.

  His twins Coco and Ella Beth rushed into the small office. “What’s going on?” demanded Ella Beth. “Where did everybody go?”

  “You do realize,” said Coco, who was nine going on twenty-one, “that the dining room is chock-full of people?”

  “Don’t be sassy,” said Sara crossly. But Coco’s pronouncement had the desired effect.

  “Well?” bellowed Lulu. “What’s keeping everybody? We better jump into action and start dealing out the lunch specials.” Lulu peered around the door. “Oh Lord, the dining room’s completely full of hungry customers. What’s she going to think about the service?”

  Sara propelled her toward the door. “Not a thing. She’s going to think this barbeque is so darn tasty that the whole town is beating down our door to get in here and eat some. And she’ll be right.”

  Ben raced to the kitchen to work his magic on the barbeque, Sara grabbed an order pad and pencil and tied an apron around her waist, and Lulu headed to the dining room for a visit with their guests.

  The smell of the seasoned pork cooking in the pit and the sweet aroma of the baked beans permeating the restaurant was enough to make your mouth water.

  The customers felt more like guests to Lulu, maybe because they came so often they were now all friends to her.

  Coco was right; the dining room was jam-packed, even the barstools. Lulu walked in to a chorus of greetings, her small frame belying the fact that she had eaten barbeque every single day of her adult life. Lulu motioned to the hostess that she would be greeting this particular guest.

  The sophisticated blonde finally took off her large sunglasses and looked around the dim restaurant. A muscular man with a shock of black hair and a warm smile, lugging a bag of camera equipment, stood beside her. “Welcome to Aunt Pat’s!” said Lulu. “Are you dining in or taking out?”

  A perfunctory smile spread across the woman’s pretty face, although it didn’t reach her violet eye
s. “Dining in. But not really dining, just sitting.” She glanced around. “It looks busy, though.”

  “Oh, it’ll settle down in a minute. There should be a table opening up soon.”

  “I can wait,” she said, and she sat down on the worn wooden bench near the door.

  Lulu peered closely at the woman. “Are you, by any chance, the Cooking Channel scout?”

  “Very perceptive of you,” she said dryly and smoothed out invisible wrinkles in her slacks. “I’m Rebecca Adrian, Cooking Channel. I suppose I stand out.”

  “Of course not,” said Lulu. “But we’ve been expecting you, you know.” She gave her a sweet smile. “Besides, honey, the camera man is a dead giveaway.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “I have the perfect place for you to sit down, Miss Adrian. Right over with some of my friends. I think you might enjoy their company.”

  “I’m not going to eat today, Mrs. Taylor. I’m here to get some ideas for presenting the story, and Tony will do a light and sound check. But I’ll have a seat, sure. Talking to customers might help me find an angle.”

  Tony, the camera man, smiled to see hard-nosed Rebecca Adrian being led off by Lulu Taylor. She wasn’t known for her ability to act on suggestions. This story might be more fun than he’d thought it would be. His big face split into a smile as the hostess offered him a barbeque plate, gratis. This was his kind of assignment.

  In fact, Lulu was in the mood for a little something herself. Sara, who seemed to have a waitress’s second sense about these things, raised her eyebrows inquiringly. “Ribs and some beans?” she asked as she passed by.

  “Please.”

  Rebecca Adrian coolly summed up Lulu Taylor as she followed the woman across the crowded restaurant. She saw white hair tucked in a demure bun, a gentle smile, and a flower-print cotton dress.