The Key Lime Crime by Lucy Burdette

Author:Lucy Burdette
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

Chapter Eighteen

Baking is for the rule bound, the people who sat up front in cooking class and paid attention, who wrote things down, rather than relying on the feel of a recipe.

—Meredith Mileti, Aftertaste: A Novel in Five Courses

Miss Gloria and I found a residential parking space on Simonton Street and threaded through crowds of tourists a few blocks to Clemente’s Trolley Pizzeria on Fleming. This was a fairly new restaurant that had operated out of a trolley food truck a few years previous, then moved to the real estate that had been occupied by an establishment boasting nude dancing girls. Limousines used to idle along the block alongside the establishment, and girls in skimpy outfits often loitered on a bench outside the door.

The neighbors had been thrilled when the property turned over and a pizza joint moved in. Inside this tiny space, the owners had built a bar, an enormous pizza oven, and a small seating area with a painted backdrop of an old-time trolley by local artist Rick Worth. We were lucky to grab the last two unoccupied tables and push them together. Shortly after we sat down, my mother, Sam, and Helen bustled through the door. My mother looked a bit bedraggled, and I felt bad that I wasn’t able to give them a hand with their jobs this week.

“Where’s Captain Wonderful?” Sam asked. We all laughed.

“Nathan texted,” I explained, “and he won’t be home until late. I told him we’d pack up the leftovers so he’d have something to snack on besides key lime pie when he gets in.”

“We certainly won’t be up late tonight,” my mother said, “but I’m so glad you thought of this place. The idea of eating New Haven–style pizza instead of leftover canapés could not be more appealing. And I certainly wasn’t going to cook!”

Sam chuckled and rubbed her back. “Nor would we ask you to.”

“That’s exactly what I was telling Helen earlier—cooks and chefs love to eat other people’s food,” I said.

We ordered beer and wine and negotiated our way through the menu, eventually choosing three pizzas, a mushroom-and-pepperoni, the chicken Parmesan special pie, and a vegetarian loaded with things that would be mostly good for us. At least above the crust and underneath the cheese. We also ordered two salads, one arugula and beet, the other Baby’s special with garbanzos, blue cheese, and homemade Italian dressing. Unbelievably enough, my mouth watered at the prospect, and even my stomach growled in anticipation.

“Tell us about your day,” Sam said to Helen, while we were waiting for the food.

“We learned the secret to a creamy key lime pie; we had lunch with Amber, the doyenne of Key West’s Finest; and we had cookies with Claudette Parker’s next-door neighbor. And Miss Gloria found the blow-up Santa doll that belonged on Claudette’s porch under the neighbor’s porch. But don’t tell that to Nathan,” Helen said.

I swiveled my head quickly to look at her.

She patted my hand briefly. “Don’t worry, I know you feel you have to tell him everything.

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