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The rest of my Monday was an absolute whirl. After leaving the hospital, I’d gone by Gerald’s house to pick up Hattie, my new foster kitten, from a grateful if sneezing Mrs. Adams. Then I stopped by the Humane Society office to pick up some pet food, kitty toys, and other supplies that Gerald had waiting for me.
Once home, I settled Hattie in the kitchen and explained to Miriam that the situation was only temporary. She’d looked puzzled to see the new feline in her territory, but when I took Hattie out of her carrier and encouraged her to explore, Miriam seemed merely curious. Soon, she and Hattie were nudging each other like old friends.
With my unexpected pet volunteer job having taken up much of the morning, I was feeling a little panicked when I finally got home. I grabbed my jewelry supply cases, tuned in to some jazz on Pandora, and got an assembly line going. Working diligently, I made eight new Ruby & Doris bracelets, which I dropped off at the Feathered Nest later that afternoon. I also packaged and mailed some of the Christmas tree pins that I’d sold online—but not the Hattie Carnegie one. I’d decided that taking care of a new kitten named Hattie, even temporarily, was a sign that the pin should remain a part of my own vintage jewelry collection.
The arts council was meeting weekly before taking a break for the holidays, and I had a feeling I knew what at least one of the topics at that night’s meeting would be. I still couldn’t believe that Tyler had fooled us all for so long, and I was curious to hear what the others had to say about him.
At five, I closed down the jewelry production for the day, freshened my makeup, and microwaved some minestrone for a quick supper. I didn’t have any new jewelry to share, but I did have the new prints of my work, and I needed help deciding which ones to send to the Jewelry Artisans of the Southeast for their official printed program. I had my favorites, but my friends on the arts council were savvy about things like that and might have tips on which photos would appeal to customers.
Arriving early for a change, I entered the library meeting room and found Trish and Shareta poring over a magazine article. They motioned me over.
“Check this out.” Trish pointed at a two-page spread. “Shareta’s baskets are written up in Georgia Trend this month.”
“Seriously? We’ve never been able to break in there before. How’d you do it?”
“Pure luck.” Shareta grinned. “Remember when you sold all those baskets to that tour group from Gatlinburg last week? One of those tourists was the mother of a Georgia Trend editor. She saw her mom’s basket and actually took time to read the tiny tag tucked inside. That editor had just had a writer drop the ball on a feature at the last minute, so she got a piece on Shareta in literally hours before going to press.”
My eyes widened. “I’m sure you’re glad you include those tags.”
“Mm-hmm. And you can bet I’m gonna keep doing them.”
Voices in the hallway caught our attention, and Gus walked in, followed by Savannah, Bob, and Martha. Gus was carrying a big box of doughnuts from the Cupcake Café and invited each of us to have one.
I stared at her, puzzled. “But you’re not a fan of sugar and always go for the salty snacks. What gives?”
Gus reached for a bubblegum-pink doughnut with colorful jimmies on top. “Comfort food.” She shrugged. “You’d need a little sugar, too, if you realized you’d been going out with a murderer.”
“Hear! Hear!” Savannah reached for an iced chocolate doughnut. “And they say he’ll be charged with manslaughter and not murder anyway. So technically, you were just dating a manslaughter-er.”
“Oh, that helps a lot, sis.” Gus dumped her tapestry tote bag into a chair then grabbed a bottled water that she’d plopped next to her doughnut.
“We’re early, guys, but let’s cut to the chase,” Trish said. “For obvious reasons, I’m withdrawing that suggestion I emailed all of you asking that we consider Tyler Montgomery for a spot on the arts council board. Can I assume there’s no opposition to that?”
“Hardly!” Gus closed her eyes and shivered. “Thank goodness we never actually voted to have him on here.”
Shareta stopped eating her lemon-filled powdered doughnut, her hand poised in midair. “I’ve been dying to ask—were you as floored as the rest of us when we found out he’s the one who killed Miranda?”
Gus sighed. “I must have asked myself that question a hundred times in the past twenty-four hours. I knew Tyler talked about Miranda and asked about the investigation a lot, but at the time, I didn’t think he was that much more curious than the rest of us.”
“How did you hear about his arrest?” I asked.
She nodded at Savannah. “Little goes on in this town without my sister hearing about it. One of her friends saw the commotion uptown yesterday afternoon and called to tell her.”
Savannah grinned. “And one of Paul’s friends has a son on the force, so he made a few calls and found out what happened. Turns out they knew all along that Miranda wasn’t actually strangled, and when some paint showed up on the feathers of her costume, that helped them narrow down the suspects.”
Trish’s head bobbed up and down. “And Tyler was in Erin’s photos from the bazaar, but of course I had no reason to ever imagine that he was a suspect.”
I shook my head. “Only an idiot would think they could get away with anything in a town like Roseland.” I sat back in my seat and crossed my arms. “But Tyler seemed like such a nice guy. And when I finally saw his art, I thought he was really good.”
“Well, he’ll have to be painting in his jail cell from now on.” Martha, who was polishing off one of Mavis’s coveted bacon-sprinkled, maple-glazed doughnuts, wrinkled her nose. “He’s brought shame on this town and the bazaar, and I hope he gets the sentence he deserves, even if the victim was somebody like Miranda.”
Bob added his two cents. “Jimmy says he’s just glad the whole thing’s over with. He said complaints about Miranda kept landing on his desk, and he’s learned the hard way to do a background check on the next person he hires.”
Shareta made eye contact with me, and we shared grins.
“Why didn’t he do one this time?” she asked Bob.
“This goes no further than this room”—Bob looked around the table—“but Jimmy was busy with his reelection campaign back then and got one of the interns to do it. Later found out his daughter’s boyfriend didn’t exactly do a thorough job.”
No wonder the mayor seemed embarrassed about the whole sorry episode.
Trish cleared her throat. “Now that the unpleasantness is out of the way, let’s talk about next year’s plans. Savannah, I believe you’re working on a special piece for your parents’ fiftieth anniversary. Want to tell us about it?”
Savannah grinned. “I’m doing watercolors of historic locations around town, and they’re going in a book that will be printed and sold in their honor—with proceeds benefiting the arts council for years to come.”
Excited chatter filled the table.
“What will it look like?”
“How many paintings will be in it?”
“How much will it cost to print it?”
Savannah held up a hand. “Gus is spearheading most of the production, and all I have to worry about are the paintings. Oh, and Emma?”
“Yes?”
“We want to commission a special piece of jewelry to be presented to our mom the night of the celebration. Would you be interested? We’ll need it finished fairly soon after New Year’s.”
I had Christmas to get through, a prestigious regional jewelry show to prepare for, new pieces to design, and oh yes, a new foster kitten to care for.
But who could turn down a job like that? Besides, surely everything would calm down in Roseland after Christmas.
I smiled and said, “I’d be honored.”
Pumpkin Spice Shortbread
1/2 cup softened butter (no substitutions)
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup + 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Cream butter and sugar using an electric mixer. Gradually stir in flour and spice. When blended, turn out onto a lightly floured surface and knead till smooth, about 3 minutes. I like to use a rolling pin that flattens the dough into a perfect 3/8-inch thickness before cutting out the cookies with various cookie cutters. Place cookies 1 inch apart on ungreased cookie sheet, prick with a fork, and bake for 25 minutes, just until bottoms are beginning to brown. Yields about 20 (2- to 3-inch) cookies.
Indian Butter Chicken
2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts or thighs (I’ve used fresh as well as frozen)
1 small onion, sliced
6 garlic cloves, chopped
3 teaspoons cardamom
2 teaspoons curry
1-1/4 teaspoons coriander
1 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
4 tablespoons butter
1 (6-ounce) can tomato paste
2 tablespoons lemon juice
1 can coconut milk (light is okay)
1 cup plain yogurt (I use fat-free Greek yogurt)
Place chicken in five-quart slow cooker and add onion, garlic, and spices. Add the butter and tomato paste, then add lemon juice and coconut milk. Place cover on slow cooker and cook on high for 4 hours or low for 8 hours. Fifteen minutes before serving, add yogurt. Chicken will be very tender and can be shredded easily with a fork. Serve over rice with wedges of naan, a flatbread, on the side. Yields 8-10 servings.