“W
elcome to the Cooking Champions Dinner
Demolition—Battle of the Exes edition,” I say to both Emmie and Fish as we gaze out at the melee overtaking the cove on this warm spring evening.
Fish, my sweet black and white tabby, mewls at the sight. Since you’ll be judging theevent, Isay you drop a morsel or two myway.It’snotfairthatyougettohaveallthefuntonight.
Sherlock barks. Make sure you drop the biggest morsel of all forme, Bizzy.Jasper asked me topatrol the beach until hegothere.AndyouknowhowhungryIgetwhenIhaveto runupanddownthecove.
Fish groans, Don’t listen to him. He’sjusttrying to fill his stomach with bacon. And once he does, he won’t be patrollingathing.He’llbeoutlikealight.
Sherlock growls at my tiny kitty, That’sbecausebaconmakes mesleepy.
“You’ll both get extra treats tonight. I can promise you that,” I say, giving Sherlock a quick scratch on the head.
Sherlock Bones is a medium-sized red and white freckled mutt who belonged to my husband, Jasper, before we were married, and now both Jasper and Sherlock belong to me. I’m glad about it, too.
I look out at the bikini-clad bodies bustling around the sand, each of them trying to sneak a glance to the makeshift kitchen that’s been constructed right outside of the Country Cottage Inn. There’s an
entire legion of stagehands, producers, directors, and not to mention the other contestants and judges.
Our little sandy stretch of Cider Cove is brimming with life tonight. It’s the first Saturday in May, summer is already nipping at our heels, and the air holds the heady scent of the briny Atlantic mingling with fresh grilled burgers, fries, and onion rings. I figured if the masses would be gathered to watch a cooking competition on the beach, I might as well give them something to eat.
I happen to be the owner of the inn, and as soon as I heard popular chef Courtland Weldon was looking for a seaside town to film an episode of his famed cooking competition, I knew I had to move heaven and earth to get him to Cider Cove. Not only that, but he just so happens to be my best friend Emmie’s favorite television chef, so when I get a chance this evening, I’m going to ask Courtland if he would cater Emmie’s wedding coming up next month. As it stands now, the chefs here at the Country Cottage Café will be doing the honor, but if I could get Chef Courtland to man the fort, it would be one of the greatest gifts I could give to Emmie.
Courtland Weldon steps into our line of vision just a few feet away while chatting with a production assistant. He’s tall, a bit lanky, dark curly hair, and always seems to have a wily gleam in his eyes. I’m guessing he’s a smidge older than Emmie and me, seeing that we’re in our late twenties. He’s textbook handsome, not too overtly so, but I can see the appeal, which has amassed the attention of what the press has taken to calling Courtland’s Cuties. The guy is mobbed wherever he goes.
Fish’s ear twitches as she catches a glimpse of him as well. He’s smaller than he looks on TV. But he’s all ego, Bizzy. I can see thatfromhere.Goodthingyou’retaken.I’dhatetosee yougetcaughtupinhisweboflies.
A small laugh percolates through me. “What are you talking about?” I whisper as I hold her face close to my cheek. I’veheardeverythingabouthimonthegossipshows, she mewls. Sherlock says those shows help him relax—so much so that he sleeps throughevery episode. But I don’tsleep, Bizzy. I glean all that I can in the event you’ll need my
knowledge for one of your cases. Oh, there are so many peopleheretoday.There’s boundtobea murder.Don’tyou think?
I pull my cute cat back a notch and frown over at her. “I’m putting you down now. Try to stay out of trouble.” No sooner do I set her to the sand than both she and Sherlock bolt to the waterline.
Emmie moans as her eyes stay trained on the celebrity chef before us. Boy,ishegood-looking.Toobadhedidn’tstepinto my life three years ago. I’d make sure his shoes ended up parkedundermybedforthenight.
“Emmie.” I laugh without meaning to.
“Oh.” Her fingers fly to her lips. “Sorry, Bizzy. But better you heard that than Leo.”
My name is Bizzy Baker Wilder, and I can read minds—not every mind, not every time, but it happens, and it’s typically not all it’s cracked up to be—with the exception of conversations like these. Yes, I can read the animal mind, too, and believe me, they have better things to say than most humans. And I’m not sure how, but the animals always seem to understand each other as well.
“You can say that again,” I tease. “You keep drooling over Courtland and you won’t have to worry about shoring up the details for your wedding next month.”
“Very funny.” She wrinkles her nose, her eyes still locked on the chaos before us. “I still can’t believe you convinced Courtland Weldon to come to Cider Cove. You do realize I’m basically obsessed with him—with his cooking, that is.”
I happen to know everything that my bestie is obsessed with. We’ve been locked at the hip for as long as I can remember. We have everything in common, including our formal monikers, Elizabeth. But since neither of us wanted to go through life with the same name, we’ve each stuck to the nicknames our families have given us. We both share the same long dark locks and denim blue eyes. In fact, we look more like sisters than I do with my own sister.
“I know you’re obsessed,” I tell her. “Where’s Leo? I have another surprise for you.”
Leo Granger is a deputy at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department. He and my husband, Jasper, are best friends themselves, and they just so happen to work at the department together.
Jasper is a homicide detective and we met a few years back because there just so happened to be a homicide right here on this very beach. But, unlike popular feline opinion, that horrific nightmare isn’t happening tonight. Not on my watch. And hopefully, when Jasper gets off work and shows up, not on his either.
“Leo is running late,” Emmie says as she pulls me toward the makeshift outdoor studio. “He’s not exactly a fan of Courtland’s. He keeps calling him the other man.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s just teasing, of course. Courtland Weldon is sort of a big deal to everyone, not just me. Everyone knows he’s built his very own culinary empire in the last decade alone. You can find his face on anything from a jar of marinara sauce to mugs and T-shirts. He’s a self-made multimillionaire, touching the hem of billions if you believe the media, and just being near him makes you feel as if you’re breathing rarefied air. He’s got three different cooking shows and over a dozen different cookbooks. Have I mentioned that I have them all?” Emmie hardly comes up for air as she says it.
“Wow, I knew he was a popular chef, but I had no idea he was a brilliant businessman as well.” Let’s hope he’s brilliant enough to say yes when it comes to catering my bestie’s wedding. He’s based right here in Maine. And one of his prime locations is in Seaview, less than a half hour away. I don’t see why he wouldn’t agree to it.
There are so many people here at the cove tonight, from the crew, the production staff, the tourists, to the guests of my inn—it’s a clash of bodies and a collision of worlds.
We pass a pretty brunette in a bright yellow sundress with pink and blue flowers embroidered all over it and I’m half-tempted to stop her and ask where she got that stunning piece. I love anything that’s both comfortable and unique. And I love embroidery, especially crewel work, a type of surface embroidery, which is what I think that is.
Emmie fights the crowd as she navigates us right to the superstar chef himself just as he finishes up his conversation with a
couple of women. Courtland Weldon is commanding with his dark, mischievous eyes and that devilish grin that never seems to leave his face. The white apron he’s donned glows against his casual T-shirt and jeans underneath, and even though he’s dressed rather average, there’s an aura about him that lets you know he’s special.
“Chef Courtland?” Emmie’s voice squeals. “I’m Leo Granger and this is my wife, Bizzy.”
“What?” I squawk as I back up an inch before laughing. Emmie is so flustered she’s getting her wires crossed in the most comical way. “I’m Bizzy Baker Wilder, the owner of the inn. And this is Emmie Crosby, my best friend and the supervisor of the kitchen here on site, the Country Cottage Café. We’re both super excited to meet you. And we happen to be a part of the judging panel.”
“Yes!” Emmie shouts a little too loud. “We can’t wait to eat you!”
Good grief. I shoot her a look.
“Emmie, I think the kitchen staff is running low on buns.” I make a face at her. “Why don’t you make sure they have what they need? And maybe get a glass of water before coming back out.”
She’ll thank me later for sending her away to collect herself. It’s clear she’s lost sight of her good senses. Emmie has a history of being a bit reactionary when it comes to good-looking men. In the past, her reaction was always to hop into bed with them. But that option has been wiped from the table ever since she got engaged last December.
Leo Granger, the aforementioned deputy, just so happens to share my supernatural quirk—he can read minds, too. I think the universe knew what it was doing when it scheduled him for a long shift today. Had it not, that engagement might have been wiped right off the table.
“Yes.” Emmie gives an awkward nod to Courtland. “We like buns here. We especially like yourbuns,” she shouts a little too loud and I quickly spin her toward the café and shove her off to safety before she gets arrested for sexual harassment.
“Ignore her,” I say as a nervous laugh bubbles in my chest.
“She’s fine.” He comes shy of winking as he follows her with his eyes. And I do mean fine. Thatgirl will be mine before the
nightisthrough.Iusuallydon’tgofortheovereagercrowd, butthatgirlisa looker.That’sthegiftofbeingfamous.I’m constantly surrounded with supple, luscious, gorgeous womenstackedandreadytobe—
“She’s getting ready for her wedding,” I say, biting the air between us. I try not to judge people for their wandering thoughts, but on an occasion like this I really can’t help it. “Right here at the cove. And to be honest, that’s sort of why I reached out to you. You’re Emmie’s dream chef. And I was just wondering if—”
A tall blonde steps up and wraps her arms around him.
“Courty baby.” She’s got shoulder-length platinum hair, a deep tan, and teeth that glow like fallen stars—lots and lots of teeth apparently. She’s smiling so wide each of her pearly whites is clearly visible, right to the gum line. I swear she’s got four rows of teeth if she’s got twenty. She’s pretty, broad shoulders with an athletic build. She’s sheathed herself in a glittering gold dress that ties off on the side, and it’s a killer look.
I wince at the morbid euphemism. With my not-so stellar track record with the dead, I probably shouldn’t mention corpses of any variety. For whatever reason, I’ve stumbled into more homicides than I care to count over recent months. I’ve solved them all, too— which is something my homicide detective husband isn’t all too thrilled about. He’s insistent that I don’t get involved, seeing that it’s deadly terrain.
“Edith.” Courtland’s smile dims for the first time since I’ve laid eyes on him. He pulls back from her hold and looks my way. “Bizzy, this is Chef Edith Weldon, my second matrimonial victim. She was kind enough to agree to put the claws away for a few minutes and go toe-to-toe with me this evening.”
“And I’m going to beat you good.” She winks my way. “Courty and I go way back to his sous-chef days. Let’s just say he’s taught me all his best tips and tricks.” Hisdirtytricks.Her smile broadens his way. AndIplantoemploythemalltoday.
Courtland smirks her way. I’m onto you, Eddie. You’re not getting an inch. And that’sexactly why I invited you here.
I’mgoingtosmokeyououtonelasttimeandmakesureyou feeltheburn.
My mouth falls open at the heated, albeit silent exchange.
A man with curly red hair and an affable smile steps up.
“You two ready to let the fireworks fly?” As if they haven’t beendoingthatforthelastdecadestraight.
“You bet we are.” Edith glances to the set. “I’d better have my makeup touched up. I have to look impeccable. It’s my first time on television.” But it won’t bemy last. She bolts off and Courtland shakes his head in her wake.
“I’d keep my eye on that one, Bizzy. She’s a ball of trouble,” he says with a laugh before turning to the man before us. “And this Scottish rabble-rouser is Brennan Gallagher. Brennan, this is Bizzy. She owns the inn. So don’t break anything, you big lug.”
“Just your neck.” He pretends to sock him as he turns my way and I can hear a clear and sharp accent when he speaks. “Nice to meet you, Bizzy,” he says with a Scottish lilt to his voice and I’m immediately endeared to him. He’s tall, ruggedly good-looking, and I’m guessing he’s about fifty-ish.
“Nice to meet you, too. I’m actually a judge here—”
“Bizzy Baker!” a female voice screeches from behind, and I turn to see not one but two women I’m more than familiar with.
Camila Ryder nearly breaks an ankle as she slips on the cobblestone path that outlines the sandy shore here at the inn. She’s squeezed herself into a short red dress and paired the too-hot-tohandle look with sky-high heels that leave her towering over me by a foot.
“I’m Camila Ryder.” She’s quick to shake the hands of the gentlemen before me. “I’m Bizzy’s right-hand gal, so if you need anything at all I’ll be at your beck and call.”
Well, that was a bald-faced lie if ever there was one.
Camila is my husband’s ex-fiancée. She’s still drooling over him regularly—daily, in fact, seeing that she manipulated her way to be the secretary of his unit down at the sheriff’s department. Camila has full-bodied chestnut waves, glowing tawny skin, and is as crafty as they come.
And by her side is one of my favorite people in all the universe, Georgie Conner. Georgie stands agog with her mouth opened and her pale blue eyes wide-set as she takes in the two men before us.
Georgie is somewhere in her eighties, she’s wearing one of her signature kaftans in baby blue, has a shock of gray hair (think Einstein), and she’s got the heart of a hippie still enjoying the high off a batch of funny mushrooms. A few months back she opened up a shop that sells knickknacks and quilts with my mother called Two Old Broads. They may not have come up with the moniker on their own, but believe me, it’s fitting.
“Hubba, hubba, hubba,” Georgie moans as she staggers forward.
“And this friendly zombie is Georgie Conner,” I say, giving her a slight pat on the back in hopes to kick-start her back to life.
Both men share a laugh.
“Nice to meet you, ladies,” Courtland says with that winning grin of his right back where it belongs. I have to nail down a few details before we begin, but, Camila”—he pauses as his eyes do that broken elevator thing up and down her body—“I predict I’ll be needing your assistance soon.” Emmie might be out of bounds, but Camila here isthrowing out all therightsignals that let me know we’llbothbevery,veryluckytonight.
“Ladies.” Brennan nods to the three of us as well before sizing Camila up himself. I’ll fight Courtland tooth and nail for this one. But then after I ream him a new one, he’ll lose his appetite for everything he’s craving tonight. Courtland Weldon should be the one shouldering the misery he’s landedmein.AndI’llmakesurehedoes.
They take off and I sputter in their wake.
Georgie leans in. “Dibs on the leprechaun.”
“No way,” Camila snips.
Georgie clucks her tongue. “I thought you said I could take your leftovers?”
Camila sighs as she glances in their direction. “Oddly I want them both.”
“What’s going on?” I ask Georgie. I already know what Camila is up to.
Georgie growls as she cranes her neck into the crowd. “Your mother, Ree Baker Hot Gentlemen Taker, is what’s going on. Ever since that hot toddy of hers strolled into town, she’s been insufferable. How dare she find a handsome man to live out her happily ever after with behind my back and in front of my face. But don’t you worry, Toots. I’m not getting mad, I’m getting even. I’ve employed Camila here to find me a stud muffin to call my own.”
Camila nods. “My monthly fee is set at a competitive rate, and I guarantee results.”
“Georgie, don’t you dare give Camila a dime. You’re perfectly capable of finding a man on your own.” Okay, so maybe that’s questionable at best. But truth be told, I don’t want another outcome like my mother’s.
I turn toward the water and spot her and her so-called happily ever after sharing fruity cocktails while sitting under one of my thatched umbrellas. My mother met a man on some dating app for seniors last month called Dating Not Waiting. His name is Romero Olsen, a businessman from Wichita who was in Paris at the time. They did some back and forth on the phone and surprise surprise he kept finding himself in one financial pickle after the next—all of which she bailed him out of. Not to mention the titillating photos she sent him. Come to find out, he was “hacked” and some person managed to wrangle another couple thousand out of my naïve mother so those photos wouldn’t be leaked who knows where. My siblings and I tried to tell my mother she was being catfished—taken for a financial ride by a scammer—but Romero actually appeared out of the blue last week and here we are. So strange.
“Camila?” Courtland calls out and the three of us turn his way. “Why don’t you bring Georgie and Bizzy this way? I’d love to introduce you to the rest of the contestants as well.”
Camila shakes out her hair and pushes her bosom out to lead the way. “Follow me, girls. I have a feeling this will be a night to remember.”
The warm evening breeze licks at the bourgeoning crowd whose intermittent laughter is drowned out every now and again with the crash of waves.
All of Cider Cove, all of Maine, seems to have shown up to the sandy shores that butt up against the Country Cottage Inn.
“Camila.” Courtland Weldon holds an arm out and she quickly cradles into it—a harbinger of things to come, I’m sure. “I’d like for you ladies to meet Jolene and Edith. Bizzy, you’ve already met wife number two.”
The blonde averts her eyes as she looks to Camila and Georgie. “Believe it or not, I do have a name. Edith Weldon.” She nods to Georgie but glowers over at Camila. So that’s his flavor of the night?Hestilllikesthemslutty,Isee.
The redhead next to her chortles as if she had read the woman’s mind as well. “And I’m the original Mrs. Weldon. Jolene. I’m glad to meet you all. Edith was the other woman and the exact reason I divorced this louse.” She winks our way as she says it. “But I guess you can say Edith and I buried the hatchet.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say. “Burying the hatchet, wow. That’s commendable.”
“How’d you do it?” Georgie narrows her eyes over at the two of them as if she doubted this were a possible feat.
Jolene leans in. “I sent a cute little brunette his way that Courty couldn’t resist and gave this one a taste of her own medicine.” She
laughs and Edith laughs right along with her, exposing us to those millions of tiny teeth she’s housing.
“That she did.” Edith sighs. “Sure, I kicked and screamed straight to divorce court, but now that I’m on the other side of that nightmare, I see the light.” Jolene was right. I’m better off withouthim.IjustwishIwerecompletelyfree.
“Now, now.” Courtland laughs. “No name calling. Nightmare is a strong word.” He glances to our left. “Ah, speak of the true nightmare,” he says and the three of them break out into a friendly laugh as a pretty brunette heads this way. She’s younger than me, but I’m guessing not by much. Her long dark hair is smooth and shines like shards as it conforms to her face. “Everyone, this is Vienna Paisley. Vienna, this is Camila, Georgie, and Bizzy.”
Jolene leans in. “The other, other woman,” she says, pulling Vienna between her and Edith. “And now that she’s no longer with Courty, she’s a part of a very exclusive club.”
Vienna laughs as she looks our way. “I was never formally indoctrinated into the Ex-Mrs. Weldon Society,” she teases.
Jolene sighs. “That’s why we call you the lucky one.”
The entire lot of us shares a quick laugh over that.
Vienna gasps at someone over my shoulder, and before I can turn around, my handsome husband, Detective Jasper Wilder, joins us.
Jasper has thick black hair, pale gray eyes, a face that can stop a woman’s heart cold just as much as it can make it beat wildly, and a body put together for speed both in and out of the bedroom. I’d say he’s God’s gift to women, but he’s exclusively mine, and for that I’m eternally grateful.
“Holy smokes,” Edith bleats as she checks him out, up and down, and another laugh trembles through our circle—with me laughing the least. “I’m sorry, did I say that out loud?”
“Oh, come on.” Jolene nudges her with her elbow. With her red hair and brilliant green eyes, she reminds me of the quintessential Irish looker. “We’ll be fighting over this one just like the good old days.”
Vienna snorts. “Nice to meet you,” she purrs his way. Jo and Edithcanbrawlalltheywant.OnceIturnupthecharmand tearoffmy clothes,theywon’tstanda chance—andneither willhe.
I clear my throat. “And this is Detective Jasper Wilder—my husband.”
All three women instantly frown, but Camila laughs.
“I was set to be the original Mrs. Wilder.” Camila sighs before stepping in close to Courtland. “But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” She licks her lips as she looks right at the saucy chef. “I’m a firm believer that the universe puts the right people in our path at the exact right time.” AndifIplaymy cardsright,Imightjustbe Mrs.CourtlandWeldonNumberThree.
Jasper’s chest rumbles with a quiet laugh. Iknowthatlookon herface,Bizzy.Thatmanisinforit.
I nod his way.
“Glad to meet you all,” Jasper says.
“Likewise, Detective,” Courtland says with an impish grin. “If I end up with a knife in my back, I want these three women thoroughly investigated.”
The three women in question break out into wild cackles at the thought.
A commotion breaks out to our right and I spot Fish and Sherlock schmoozing with a fuzzy white Samoyed. They’re standing just past where the crew is congregating, putting the last-minute touches on the stadium lights they seem to have brought out. And an entire crowd is cooing at the furry beasts’ collective cuteness.
“That’s my dog, Candy,” Courtland says as he gives a quick whistle and the furry white cutie bolts this way with Fish and Sherlock in tow. “Whoa,” he says, giving the happy pooch a scratch. “Making friends already?” He looks up. “Candy is my current girlfriend, she’s as faithful as can be, and all she asks is that I give her a decent meal at the end of the day.”
“Sounds like you, Bizzy,” Jasper says, and I look up at him in horror. “Sorry,” he mouths. HaveImentionedI’mtired?
I give his tie a playful tug, and soon the entire lot of us scatters as the competition prepares to begin.
Emmie grips me by the arm as we head toward the elongated table set out for the judges.
“It’s finally happening,” Emmie squeals. “It’s as if my wildest fantasy is actually coming true.”
I shoot her a look that says I’m more than worried for her.
There will be three guest judges tonight Vienna, Emmie, and me. And four blindjudges who are currently in another location here at the inn. Once it’s time to taste the dishes, they’ll be seated alongside us and cast their impartial opinion.
Just in front of the judges’ table is a complete working kitchen, which was crudely constructed this afternoon. There are three separate workstations along with a trio of ovens, sinks, and every small kitchen appliance you can think of. To the right is a virtual grocery store along with a couple of refrigeration units housing the ingredients they’ll be using in tonight’s competition. It’s quite the elaborate setup, but something I’ve seen before on his TV shows.
I give a quick once-over for my friends and family lurking in the crowd. I know that Camila took Georgie on a mission to find her a man in this menagerie of people, and Jasper headed over to the café grill, an outdoor extension of our little eatery, to get a burger.
Emmie pulls me closer while cutting off the circulation of my right arm. “Courtland told me the ingredient each chef will have to highlight in their meal is shrimp. You know I love shrimp. I can’t believe I’ll have to chow down on three luscious shrimp dishes all while hanging out with the best chef in the world!”
I frown a little at her uber enthusiasm. “Still no sign of Leo.”
“Who?” she asks, craning her neck to get a better look at Courtland.
“I thought so.” I look that way as well and spot the head chef himself behind a tripod holding up a lighting system, as he stands with that Scottish man, Brennan. And if I didn’t know better, they look as if they’re having an argument. Brennan shoves a hand to Courtland’s chest and shouts something right into his face before stalking off.
“That looked brutal,” I say.
Emmie moans, “You’re right. The harsh lighting does nothing for Courtland’s complexion. He’s typically not this pale.”
“Good Lord, Emmie. Snap out of it, woman. You’re getting married in a month. Courtland Weldon can’t be the only man you see—the only personyou see.”
“You’re right.” She squeezes her eyes shut a moment. “I’ll go ask the kitchen to bring out some lemonade for us and the rest of the judges. It’s going to be one long, hot night.” Especiallyifwehave to stare at Courtland Weldon for the next few hours. “Don’t judge me,” she hisses as she takes off.
I take off myself, in Courtland’s direction. If there’s a problem with that Scottish man, I want to know about it.
Just as I’m ten feet away from him, that cute brunette, Vienna, pops up by his side. She wraps her arms around his waist, and just when I think things are about to get intimate, she slaps him on the chest three times hard.
“Don’t ever think of doing that to me again,” she seethes. “I’m not afraid of you. But you’d better fear me.” A smile glides over her lips. “After all, sweetheart, I’m on the judging panel tonight.”
Courtland rolls his eyes as she takes off.
Oh, that was awkward. I can’t just stomp over and demand to know if the Scotsman is causing trouble when Vienna just up and did the same thing. I’ll just let sleeping dogs lie.
I’m about to turn back when the first Mrs. Weldon strides past me and heads his way.
“Courty?” she calls out as he’s about to head back toward the makeshift set. “Have you thought about what I said?”
His expression hardens. “Yes, Jo, I have.” His tone hardens as well. “Be thankful that I invited you out here today. Without me, you were nothing. And once more—without me in your life, you drifted right back to being nothing again. I’m giving you another shot. That should be enough for you. So smile for the camera, Jolene, and pretend that you’re in a good mood, because things might actually turn around for you.”
“I will be in a good mood, Courtland—sooner than you think. Tonight ends well for everyone here but you.” She stomps off and Courtland looks up and locks eyes with me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, hitching my thumb back to the table set in front of the staged kitchen. “I just left the judging panel and—”
“No, it’s okay.” He folds his arms across his chest as he gives a scowl at the crowd. “I knew inviting both of my exes out would cause some high drama. I never should have let my producers talk me into it. But they said it would spike the ratings, so the Battle of the Exes was born. Good thing they’re both top-rated chefs.” Nobody is getting a free ride on my account. And I’ll be morethanhappytotakethembothdownanotch.There’sa reason IwinninetypercentofthecompetitionsIenter.I’m just thatgood. Andhumiliating them both for the world to see will be the icing on the cake—a true kiss-off to our collective relationships. Those witches can both go to hell. “But I’m not bitter.” He flashes his signature grin my way.
“Good to know. But, um, I didn’t think Vienna was competing?”
“Vienna?” He waves her off. “She’s just a kid. Don’t mind that little tussle. She’s moody as heck. She was hoping I’d buy a few pieces of furniture from her. She’s into that Millennial Modular crap.”
“Furniture?”
“Yup. That’s her new side hustle. Selling furniture from her website. Apparently, it’s the next new thing,” he says that last part in air quotes.
“I thought she was working for you?”
He shakes his head. “The set grew too toxic with her around. The crew was whispering about her all the time. I had to let her go. But tonight seemed like the perfect time to have her come back. She can’t cook worth a lick, so she’ll be joining you on the judging panel.”
“Ah, well, lucky for her and me. I may not be able to cook worth a lick either, but boy, can I eat.”
“Then you’re in luck. I’m about to knock your socks off.” Bizzyis one hotcookie.Ifshewasn’ttaken,I’ddowhateverittook
to knock her socks off and I’d make sure the rest of her clothesfollowedsuit,too.
His inner ramblings revert to white noise and I can’t help but make a face.
The white noise is more or less a default that happens when someone’s mind takes a turn for the X-rated.
He squints my way. “Are you okay?”
“I just need a quick word with my husband. Good luck tonight.”
We part ways and I find Jasper and fill him in on my little adventure.
“Was there white noise involved?” He gives a stern look toward the bodies bustling in the makeshift kitchen.
“I plead the fifth. I’d hate to see the night end in a homicide.”
His lips flicker as he hitches a strand of hair behind my ear. “With you looking like a firecracker tonight, I can hardly blame the guy,”
“Firecracker, huh? I bet I can set a few sparks off later once I get you alone.”
“Why wait to be alone?” he teases, landing a searing kiss to my lips.
I pull back and bite down on a smile. “Is it bad that I’m wishing we could speed up the night?”
A loud whistle goes off, and soon I’m seated between Emmie and Vienna as the Scotsman takes the stage. It looks as if the night is speeding up for me just the way I wanted.
“Welcome one and all to the Battle of the Exes!” Brennan shouts over the crowd. “Tonight we’re at the sandy shores of Maine’s own Country Cottage Inn. Normally, we’d host this in a proper studio, but we couldn’t find one big enough to house Courtland Weldon’s ego.” The crowd amassed around us breaks out into laughter and a few catcalls as well. “For your viewing pleasure, we have the two lovely ex-Mrs. Weldons, both talented chefs in their own right. Mrs. Jolene Weldon, who happens to be shining like an emerald tonight. And Mrs. Edith Weldon, who happens to be armed and dangerous with her very own signature knives collection.”
“That’s right.” Edith gives a toothy grin as she holds up a silver blade with what looks to be a red stripe running down the back.
“The Ruby Red Collection is half off for a limited time on my website. Use the code Ihate Courtlandfor free shipping!” The crowd cheers at the slight, and Courtland gives a playful smile her way.
The ribbing seems all in good fun.
The crowd howls with approval as Brennan holds up a hand. “Ladies, tonight we’re counting on you to teach this ornery chef a lesson he will never forget. You’ve got thirty minutes to make a mouthwatering meal. And the surprise ingredient of the night is— fresh Maine caught shrimp! Let the Battle of the Exes commence!”
The next thirty minutes go by in a blur as shrimp are grilled, panfried, seared, and fried. Emmie whispers to me a running commentary the entire time right along with Brennan as he walks the crowd through the chef’s various dishes. It seems Jolene has made garlic butter shrimp. I watched as she pounded and minced enough garlic to leave a trail from here to Italy. And she’s chopped some broccoli and ginger into it as well. Her dish is the most fragrant of the night and has been lighting up my senses like crazy. I cannot wait to dive into that one.
Edith has made some kind of a noodle dish and it looks amazing all on its own. Kung Pao shrimp noodles, Brennan called it. The sweet chilies she piled into it have been letting off a fragrant scent as well.
And Chef Courtland has made street tacos that have had both Jasper and me moaning and groaning. A good taco sounds as if it would hit the spot right about now. I’ve had a weakness for those corn tortilla wrapped wonders for as long as I can remember. I think I’ll dig into those first.
Jasper is seated right behind me, along with my mother and her new beau—who I still don’t trust as far as I can throw. I can’t help it. My instincts say I smell a rat and my instincts are never wrong. Mostly.
Fish and Sherlock are nearby, too, along with Courtland’s dog, Candy. And every now and again I see Camila and Georgie hauling off some unsuspecting crewmember for who knows what—most likely an interrogation. I should have beefed up security, all right— for Camila’s antics. As for Brennan, well, he seems like a great guy
after all. And his accent seems to have won over every woman in a ten-mile vicinity.
A loud buzzer goes off and Brennan waves his arms.
“And it’s over!” he shouts. “Chefs, please step away from your creations while we bring out our blind panel to join our esteemed guest judges for the evening.”
The crew wanders onto the set as the cameras stop rolling. Vienna hops up and speeds for the set, quickly getting lost in the mob, and I don’t see any signs of our three chefs anymore. Brennan heads for the back tent where the makeup department is, and it’s evident we’re taking a little break.
“Leo’s here,” Emmie says, holding up her phone. “He just texted. He’s in the parking lot. I’ll run out and get him. I just can’t wait for him to meet my dream man! I mean dream chef.” She grimaces. “Oh, never mind,” she says as she bolts off.
Jasper comes over and I wrap my arms around him. “She took off to find Leo.”
“Who cares about Leo? Share those street tacos with me. You make my dreams come true, I’ll make yours.”
“Sounds like an exchange I can’t say no to.” I give the dark scruff on his cheeks a quick scratch. “Hey, speaking of Leo, I still haven’t asked Courtland if he’d cater their wedding.”
“We have a few minutes. Why don’t we do it now? If he loses tonight, he might not be as agreeable.”
“You’re right. We should track him down while he’s still in a good mood.”
I take my handsome hubby by the hand as we thread our way through the crowd, but we can’t find the culinary celebrity anywhere.
“He’s probably hiding out,” I say as we head toward the dark end of the cove. “He’s a big-time chef who probably never gets a minute to himself.”
Jasper ticks his head. “My guess is he’s making out with Camila— but if he’s smart, he’s thinking about you.”
A laugh bucks from me. “That is disgusting,” I say, playfully swatting him on the arm. We’re about to turn back when the faint
sound of barking erupts from the rocky crags to our left. It’s coming from the desolate end of the beach closest to the bluff, and Jasper’s chest expands at the sound of it.
“Go on back, Bizzy. I’ll check this out.”
“Not on your life. There’s still a mob of people on that set. I have enough time to walk over with you.”
We speed in that direction, and the barking only increases with ferocity.
“It’s Candy,” I say as I spot the white furry cutie barking like mad near the boulders and I spot something bunched up at the end of the cove.
Jasper and I race that way and stop short when we see it.
Lying over one of the rocks is Courtland with a long silver knife sticking straight out of his back, and I can’t help but note that knife has a ruby red streak running through it.
It looks as if he won’t be able to cater Emmie’s wedding or any other event ever again.
Courtland Weldon is dead.
“H
e’s dead, all right,” Jasper says after quickly checking the man for a pulse.
Waves pound heavy over the shoreline and the quarter moon hardly does enough to illuminate this abandoned end of the cove.
Candy barks up a storm while pointing to the right with her snout. They went that way. Her white fur glows as if she was backlit from the inside and her eyes are wide with terror.
“Who went that way, Candy?” I rush over to the dog in a panic. “Was it the killer?”
Jasper lands beside me. “What did they look like?”
Idon’tknow.She barks. It’sdark.Ijustsensedtroublefor Courtland,so Iranrightover andIfoundhimthiswayjust as someone was fleeing the scene. She gives a sharp bark my way. Areyouactuallyabletounderstandme?
“Yes,” I say, trying my best to control my breathing. “I can read your mind and understand you perfectly.”
Jasper quickly calls in the horror to the sheriff’s department as I wrap my arms around Candy.
“You’re going to be okay. I’ll watch after you until we get everything straightened out.”
Sherlock Bones and Fish come bounding this way.
Sherlock gives a quick bark. You never came to find us. It’s called hide-and-seek. If you don’t seek, it’s just me hiding
frombaconatthatpoint.
Fish yowls, That’sfunny.Mostofthetimeit’sbaconhiding from you. Her head twitches past Candy. What’s happening? Whyareyoushivering? she hisses. Bizzy!There’sa man with aknifeinhisback!She lets out a horrific yowl.
“I know.” I pick her up and plant a kiss over her head. “Why don’t you two take Candy back to the cottage? The gate is open and you can head straight to the backyard. I’ll be there in a little while.”
Sherlock comes over to Candy and lands a paw over her back.
Come on, kid. I’m sorry you had to see this. Bizzy and Jasperwilltakegoodcareofyou.
Fish rubs her face against Candy’s chest. Andsowillwe.
They scamper off just as a flood of deputies heads this way, the first of which is Emmie’s plus one, Leo Granger. He’s tall, has dark hair, is easy-going, and an oddball like me. We’re both something called transmundane, a classification of people with supernatural abilities. Our specific supernatural quirk falls under something called telesensual, and all that means is that we have a free pass to pry into other people’s private musings.
“What the heck happened?” Leo, wide-eyed with horror, looks past me to the man lying on the rocks.
Jasper comes over and blows out a breath. “That’s Courtland Weldon.”
A hard groan comes from Leo. “Emmie’s favorite chef.”
“I’d better go find her,” I say.
Jasper nods. “And I’ll go notify the producers.”
“I’ll hold down the fort.” Leo shakes his head as he walks toward the deputies swarming the scene.
Just beyond the deputies, a set of footsteps catches my eye. They’re hugging the sand where it butts up to the woods to the right and I lead Jasper in that direction.
“These look fresh,” I pant. “They’re deep.” Something glints in the dull light and I shine my phone over it. A gold letter M no bigger than two inches all around. “Jasper, the killer may have dropped this. It’s just feet from the body.”
“You’re right.” He looks over at Leo. “Take a picture of these footprints,” he says before pointing to the golden M. “I want that sealed as evidence. Follow the trail and see where it leads. I’ll be right back.”
Jasper and I head over to the makeshift kitchen studio where bodies are milling around at a quickened pace.
“Let’s get going!” Brennan shouts. “The food is getting cold. Judges, please take your seats. Jolene, Edith?” He turns and both women wave to him.
Jasper heads toward Brennan and whispers into the man’s ear before the entire production staff is made aware of what’s happening.
“Emmie,” I say, pulling my bestie in.
“What’s happening?” She cranes her neck past me. “Why is Jasper talking to Jolene and Edith? Oh my word, they’re crying. Bizzy?” Her eyes bulge to mine.
“We found a man with a knife in his back. It was—”
“Courtland Weldon is dead!” a woman shrieks from somewhere on the beach, and just like that, everyone here is apprised of the great tragedy.
A horrible moan comes from Emmie. “Oh, Bizzy. This place really is cursed. How could we let this happen?”
“Wedidn’t have anything to do with it. And we are not cursed.”
Her chest bucks as she shakes her head my way. “You’re only kidding yourself, Biz. Let’s just pray no one bites the big one at my wedding. But then, it wouldn’t be a proper Cider Cove function unless someone earns their wings,” she growls while looking at the inn. “I’ll go alert the front desk.”
She takes off just as Jolene staggers by.
“Jolene,” I say, grabbing ahold of her wrist for a moment and gasp as I see blood on my fingers. “I’m sorry about your loss.” The words come from me numbly as I look down at the red welts streaking up her left arm. “What happened to you?”
“Oh”—she glances toward the woods—“I picked up some stupid cat and it scratched me. I’m sorry, Bizzy. I have to go. I think I’m
Another random document with no related content on Scribd:
During this period of six months no less than five hundred and sixty-five deaths are recorded under the head of morbi vanie. In other words, those men died without having received sufficient medical attention for the determination of even the name of the disease causing death.
During the month of August fifty-three cases and fifty-three deaths are recorded as due to marasmus. Surely this large number of deaths must have been due to some other morbid state than slow wasting. If they were due to improper and insufficient food, they should have been classed accordingly, and if to diarrhea or dysentary or scurvy, the classification in like manner should have been explicit.
We observe a progressive increase of the rate of mortality, from 3.11 per cent. in March to 9.09 per cent. of mean strength, sick and well, in August. The ratio of mortality continued to increase during September, for notwithstanding the removal of one-half the entire number of prisoners during the early portion of the month, one thousand seven hundred and sixty-seven (1,767) deaths are registered from September 1 to 21, and the
largest number of deaths upon any one day occurred during this month, on the 16th, viz: one hundred and nineteen.
The entire number of Federal prisoners confined at Andersonville was about forty thousand six hundred and eleven; and during the period of near seven months, from February 24 to September 21, nine thousand four hundred and seventy-nine (9,479) deaths were recorded; that is, during this period near one-fourth, or more, exactly one in 4.2, or 23.3 per cent. terminated fatally. This increase of mortality was due in great measure to the accumulation of the sources of disease, as the increase of excrements and filth of all kinds, and the concentration of noxious effluvia, and also to the progressive effects of salt diet, crowding, and the hot climate.
CONCLUSIONS.
1st. The great mortality among the Federal prisoners confined in the military prison at Andersonville was not referable to climatic causes, or to the nature of the soil and waters.
2d. The chief causes of death were scurvy and its results and bowel affections—chronic and acute diarrhea and dysentery. The bowel affections appear to have been due to the diet, and the habits of the patients, the depressed, dejected state of the nervous system and moral and intellectual powers, and to the effluvia arising from the decomposing animal and vegetable filth. The effects of salt meat, and the unvarying diet of corn-meal, with but few vegetables, and imperfect supplies of vinegar and sirup, were manifested in the great prevalence of scurvy. This disease, without doubt, was also influenced to an important extent in its origin and course by the foul animal emanations.
3d. From the sameness of the food and form, the action of the poisonous gasses in the densely crowded and filthy stockade and hospital, the blood was altered in its constitution, even before the manifestation of actual disease. In both the well and the sick the red corpuscles were diminished; and in all diseases uncomplicated with inflammation, the fibrous element was deficient. In cases of ulceration of the mucous membrane of the intestinal canal,
the fibrous element of the blood was increased; while in simple diarrhea, uncomplicated with ulceration, it was either diminished or else remained stationary. Heart clots were very common, if not universally present in cases of ulceration of the intestinal mucous membrane, while in the uncomplicated cases of diarrhea and scurvy, the blood was fluid and did not coagulate readily, and the heart clots and fibrous concretions were almost universally absent. From the watery condition of the blood, there resulted various serous effusions into the pericardium, ventricles of the brain, and into the abdomen. In almost all the cases which I examined after death, even the most emaciated, there were more or less serous effusions into the abdominal cavity. In case of hospital gangrene of the extremities, and in case of gangrene of the intestines, heart clots and fibrous coagula were universally present. The presence of these clots in the cases of hospital gangrene, while they were absent in the cases in which there were no inflammatory symptoms, sustains the conclusion that hospital gangrene is a species of
inflammation, imperfect and irregular though it may be in its progress, in which the fibrous element and coagulation of the blood are increased, even in those who are suffering from such a condition of the blood, and from such diseases as are naturally accompanied with a disease in the fibrous constituent.
4th. The fact that hospital gangrene appeared in the stockade first, and originated spontaneously without any previous contagion, and occurred sporadically all over the stockade and prison hospital, was proof positive that this disease will arise whenever the conditions of crowding, filth, foul air, and bad diet are present. The exhalations of the hospital and stockade appeared to exert their effects to a considerable distance outside of these localities. The origin of hospital gangrene among the prisoners appeared clearly to depend in great measure to the state of the general system induced by diet, and various external noxious influences. The rapidity of the appearance and action of the gangrene depended upon the powers and state of the constitution, as well as upon the intensity of the poison in the atmosphere, or upon the
direct application of poisonous matter to the wounded surface. This was further illustrated by the important fact that hospital gangrene, or a disease resembling it in all essential respects, attacked the intestinal canal of patients laboring under ulceration of the bowels, although there were no local manifestations of gangrene upon the surface of the body. This mode of termination in case of dysentery was quite common in the foul atmosphere of the Confederate States Military Hospital, in the depressed, depraved condition of the system of these Federal prisoners.
5th. A scorbutic condition of the system appeared to favor the origin of foul ulcers, which frequently took on true hospital gangrene. Scurvy and hospital gangrene frequently existed in the same individual. In such cases vegetable diet, with vegetable acids would remove the scorbutic condition without curing the hospital gangrene. From the results of the existing war for the establishment of the independence of the Confederate States, as well as from the published observations of Dr. Trotter, Sir Gilbert Blane, and others of the English navy
and army, it is evident that the scorbutic condition of the system, especially in crowded ships and camps, is most favorable to the origin and spread of foul ulcers and hospital gangrene. As in the present case of Andersonville, so also in past times when medical hygiene was almost entirely neglected, those two diseases were almost universally associated in crowded ships. In many cases it was very difficult to decide at first whether the ulcer was a simple result of scurvy or the action of the prison or hospital gangene, for there was great similarity in the appearance of the ulcers in the two diseases. So commonly have those two diseases been confined to their origin and action, that the description of scorbutic ulsers, by many authors, evidently includes also many of the prominent characteristics of hospital gangrene. This will be rendered evident by an examination of the observations of Dr. Lind and Sir Gilbert Blane upon scorbutic ulcers.
6th. Gangrenous spots followed by rapid destruction of the tissue appeared in some cases where there has been no known wound. Without such well established facts,
it might be assumed that the disease was propagated from one patient to another. In such a filthy and crowded hospital as that of the Confederate States Military Prison at Andersonville, it was impossible to isolate the wounded from the sources of actual contact with gangrenous matter. The flies swarmed over the wounds and over filth of every kind, the filthy, imperfectly washed and scanty supplies of rags, and the limited supply of washing utensils, the same washbowl serving for scores of patients were sources of such constant circulation of the gangrenous matter that the disease might rapidly spread from a single gangrenous wound. The fact already stated, that a form of moist gangrene, resembling hospital gangrene, was quite common in this foul atmosphere, in cases of dysentery, both with and without the existance of the entire service, not only demonstrates the dependence of the disease upon the state of the constitution, but proves in the clearest manner that neither the contact of the poisonous matter of gangrene, nor the direst action of the poisonous atmosphere upon
the ulcerated surface are necessary to the development of the disease.
7th. In this foul atmosphere amputation did not arrest hospital gangrene; the disease almost universally returned. Almost every amputation was followed finally by death, either from the effects of gangrene or from the prevailing diarrhea and dysentery. Nitric acid and escharoties generally in this crowded atmosphere, loaded with noxious effluvia, exerted only temporary effects; after their application to the diseased surfaces, the gangrene would frequently returned with redoubled energy; and even after the gangrene had been completely removed by local and constitutional treatment, it would frequently return and destroy the patient. As far as my observation extended, very few of the cases of amputation for gangrene recovered. The progress of these cases was frequently very deceptive. I have observed after death the most extensive disorganization of the stump, when during life there was but little swelling of the part, and the patient was apparently doing well. I endeavored to impress upon the medical officers the view that on this disease
treatment was almost useless, without an abundance of pure, fresh air, nutricious food, and tonics and stimulants. Such changes, however, as would allow of the isolation of the cases of hospital gangrene appeared to be out of the power of the medical officers.
8th. The gangrenous mass was without true puss, and consisted chiefly of brokendown, disorganized structures. The reaction of the gangrenous matter in certain stages was alkaline.
9th. The best, and in truth the only means of protecting large armies and navies, as well as prisoners, from the ravages of hospital gangrene, is to furnish liberal supplies of well-cured meat, together with fresh beef and vegetables, and to enforce a rigid system of hygene.
10th. Finally, this gigantic mass of human misery calls loudly for relief, not only for the sake of suffering humanity, but also on account of our own brave soldiers now captive in the hands of the Federal Government. Strict justice to the gallant men of the Confederate armies, who have been or who may be, so unfortunate as to be
compelled to surrender in battle, demands that the Confederate Government should adopt that course which will best secure their health and comfort in captivity; or at least leave their enemies without a shadow of an excuse for any violation of the rules of civilized warfare in the treatment of prisoners.”
(END
OF WITNESS’S TESTIMONY.)
SUMMARY
The variation from month to month of the proportion of deaths to the whole number of living is singular and interesting. It supports the theory I have advanced above, as the following facts taken from the official report, will show:
In April one in every sixteen died.
In May one in every twenty-six died.
In June one in every twenty-two died.
In July one in every eighteen died.
In August one in eleven died.
In September one in every three died.
In October one in every two died.
In November one in every three died.
Does the reader fully understand that in September one-third of those in the pen died, that in October one-half of the remainder perished, and in November one-third of those who still survived, died?
Let him pause for a moment and read this over carefully again, because its startling magnitude will hardly dawn upon him at first reading. It is true that the fearful disproportionate mortality of those months
was largely due to the fact that it was mostly the sick that remained behind, but even this diminishes but little the frightfulness of the showing. Did anyone ever hear of an epidemic so fatal that one-third of those attacked by it in one month died; one-half of the remnant the next month, and one-third of the feeble remainder the next month? If he did his reading has been much more extensive than mine.
