A Second Helping by J. Alan Hartman (ed)

Author:J. Alan Hartman (ed) [Hartman, J. Alan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: anthology, cozy, culinary, detective, holiday, mystery, recipes, women sleuths
Amazon: B009O28GGA
Publisher: Untreed Reads Publishing
Published: 2012-10-09T00:00:00+00:00

Green Beans & Murder

Arlen Blumhagen

“Hello.”

“Hello Emma dear.”

“Oh, Ella! It’s so good to hear your voice.” The sincerity in Emma’s voice sounded so…well…sincere. “Thanks so much for calling.”

“Well, that’s what twin sisters do.” Ella’s voice made a reasonably good attempt at the whole “sincerity” thing, but you could detect the edge in her voice; like the edge of an old rusty razorblade.

* * *

Ella and Emma Mullen (Emma Mullen-Temple) were in their mid-ish fifties. They’d been raised in a large family in a small Montana town. Although the two were the only children that Sam and Hilda Mullen had been blessed with, they had more aunts, uncles, and cousins than the county had prairie dogs.

Emma was the good one; and as such, generally disliked by most of the family; although no one would actually say so. She’d grown up, gotten married, had a respectable job at the bank, raised three kids (two of which she was proud of; one took after her Aunt Ella), belonged to the PTA, Neighborhood Watch, and Friends of the Library. In short, irritatingly “normal” and “well-adjusted.”

And then there was Ella. Everything Emma was…Ella wasn’t. She was still working on the “growing up” thing. She’d never even come close to getting married; although her bedroom sported quite the “revolving door” during the late eighties, early nineties. She had her “dream-job” at Cole’s Department Store; selling shoes. Ella had tried once to raise a cat, but simply couldn’t be bothered. In short, mostly irresponsible, and a lot of fun to “hang” with.

About the only two things the sisters had in common were a monumental stubborn streak, and a passion for green-bean casserole.

* * *

“So, how are things?” Emma asked. The twins lived less than five miles from each other, and seldom spoke.

“Great.” Ella wondered what the hell she meant by that.

“I heard you had a date with that Duncan Franks from the BLM office.”

Ella HATED small-town gossip!

“No big deal.” She tried to keep the anger from her voice. “We had a bite to eat at The Firepit, then went to Casey’s for a couple of drinks.”

“Anything I should know?” Emma’s voice held a teasing lilt.

“Yeah.” Ella’s didn’t. “You should know enough to mind your own damn business.”

And the pleasantries were over. When Emma spoke, she was all business.

“When were you planning to show up at Susie’s for Thanksgiving Dinner on Thursday?”

“When Susie told me to.”

Pause. The anger was almost a physical thing, passing through the phone line.

“And what are you bringing?” There was a definite challenge in Emma’s voice this time.

Pause. Ella rose to the challenge.

“Green-bean casserole.”

“You bitch!”

* * *

When Emma didn’t show up for work on Tuesday morning, there was an immediate red flag alert. She was always there ten minutes early, and had her pencils sharpened and her blotter cleaned by business time.

She’d worked at the bank for thirty-some years, and the only time she’d missed work that hadn’t been scheduled, was that morning when the hay-wagon jack-knifed out on the frontage road and buried her and her Volvo.

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