“Ben!” my wife scolded. “That’s just insensitive.”
“Feebs got no sense of humor,” he returned.
“I didn’t shoot you, did I?” Constance asked.
“Yeah, whatever,” Ben chuckled.
“So, Constance,” Felicity said, leaning across the table toward her. “If you don’t happen to have any duct tape handy, in a pinch a washcloth and a nylon scarf make an excellent gag.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she giggled.
“Yeah, you would know somethin’ like that, wouldn’t ya’?” my friend said.
“I can’t imagine you’re surprised,” my wife told him.
“I’m not, but you both know I ain’t inta’ that kinky shit,” he huffed.
“Are we embarrassing you?” Constance asked.
“Yes.” He emphasized the terse answer.
“Good,” she replied with a wicked grin. “If we keep it up maybe I’ll be even with you by next year.”
“Uh-huh,” he grumbled. “So can we talk about somethin’ else?”
“Okay, what would you like to talk about?” she asked.
“Well, you comedians never did tell me what was in this spring chicken thing…”
“Oatmeal, chicken livers, chicken gizzards, and suet,” a woman’s voice said. “All ground up with onions, a few special seasonings, and slowly steamed in a sheep’s stomach.”
Ailleagan was standing behind my friend and now rested her hand on his shoulder. I had seen her coming when she exited the kitchen, but as soon as she saw me looking her direction, she held her finger up to her lips, so I had kept my mouth shut. The look now twisting Ben’s face made me glad I had played along.
“You’re friggin’ kiddin’ me,” he replied, turning to look up at her.
Ailleagan was a petite woman with pleasing curves and an ample bosom. Her hair was a shade or two brighter red than Felicity’s, and it framed a fresh, cherubic face. The sleeves of her chef’s tunic were rolled up to expose intricate and colorful tattoos on her forearms, which continued up to disappear beneath the white folds of the jacket’s fabric.
She looked back at him through her stylish, dark rimmed glasses and without cracking a smile said, “Why would I do that?”
My friend shook his head and held up his hand. “No offense, but that just ain’t my thing. Don’tcha have a coupl’a burgers back there or somethin’?”
“You must be the infamous Benjamin Storm,” she said, holding her hand out toward him.
He took it but maintained a confused expression.
“And, you must be Constance,” she continued, patting Mandalay on the shoulder. “I’ve heard all manner of stories about you two from Rowan and Felicity.”
“How are you doing tonight?” I asked, giving her a smile and a nod.
“Fine, just fine,” she replied, shooting a wide grin toward us. “So I finally get to meet these two.”
“Aye, finally,” Felicity agreed.
“Wait just a minute,” Ben interjected. “Let’s get back ta’ the food. You ain’t really gonna feed us a bunch of chicken guts, are ya?”
“Rowan’s right,” she replied. “You’re awfully gullible for a cop.”
He looked at me. “You said that?”
“Only about certain things.” I shrugged. “Not the important stuff. Mostly just when it comes to food.”
“Food’s important.”
“You know what I mean. For example, I got you to eat ostrich.”
“Yeah, I still haven’t forgiven ya’ for that one.”
“Relax,” Ailleagan told him, patting his shoulder again. “I just gave you the basic recipe for my personal variation on haggis. We aren’t serving that till next week.”
“What day?”
She cocked her head to the side, looked thoughtful, and then said, “Probably Wednesday.”
“I won’t be here,” he grunted.
“Then I won’t set you a place. Seriously though, Spring Chicken Wellington is just chicken,” she continued. “It’s baked in a pastry just like Beef Wellington. I can’t tell you any more of the recipe than that or I’ll have to kill you, and since you’re a cop…”
“Yeah, I see you’re a funny one too,” Ben told her.
“I like to think so. Now let’s see, where was I… Oh yes… On the side, we’re serving Sicilian green beans sauteed with garlic and diced salami. And for dessert, fudge brownie sundaes.”
“I heard salami and fudge sundae,” Ben said with a nod. “Those I can work with. I’ll let ya’ know on the chicken thing. Usually I have mine fried.”
“Believe me, this will be better,” she said.
“So, Ailleagan, this might be too much to ask,” I said. “But you wouldn’t happen to have any of the sacred pie back there, would you?”
She grinned. “As a matter of fact, when Felicity called I made one just for you.”
“You’re a doll.”
She feigned a curtsy. “I know.”
“Okay,” Ben grumbled. “What the hell’s sacred pie?”
“Oh, you’ll find out. If Rowan let’s you have any, that is,” she quipped then paused and gave the dining room a quick scan before adding, “Things look under control out here. Doug should be out with your dinner in just a minute. I think I’ll go grab a plate for myself and join you.”
“That would be wonderful,” Felicity said.
“So you’re gonna eat with us?” Ben asked.
“Is that a problem?” she answered with her own question.
“No…” he said. “I don’t guess so. Just not used to the chef sittin’ down with me.”
“Welcome to Flipdoodles,” she said with a disarming smile.
“Yeah, thanks,” he grunted. “So lemme ask ya’ somethin’. If you’re gonna eat with us, can I just call ya’ Jewel?”
Without missing a beat she replied, “Can I just call you Geronimo?”
It was obvious from the look on his face and the length of his pause that Ben hadn’t been expecting the quick retort. Before he could answer, she nodded her head and winked. “Ailleagan will do just fine, Benjamin.”
He shook his head and cast his gaze back and forth between Felicity and her. “Ya’know, if ya’ had an accent I’d swear you two were sisters.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” she said with a grin. “I’ll be back in just a minute. Doug might be needing some help, and I still need a plate for myself.”
As soon as she scurried off, Ben looked across the table at my wife and said, “You’re enjoyin’ this, aren’t ya’?”
“Why shouldn’t she?” Constance interjected. “I am.”
“This is gonna be a long friggin’ night,” he muttered.
“I wouldn’t worry,” I told him. “If Ailleagan didn’t like you, she wouldn’t…”My sentence was interrupted by the trilling of my cell phone as it started to vibrate on my belt. I reached for it while finishing the thought. “…she wouldn’t screw with you. Relax. You’re all good.”
I pulled the device up and glanced at the LCD. The caller ID was displaying an unfamiliar number with an out-of-state area code. I pursed my lips thoughtfully for a second and then slid the warbling phone back into the belt holder without answering.
“Screenin’ your calls?” Ben asked.
“Sort of, I guess. I don’t recognize the number, and it’s from out of state. I’ll just check my voicemail later. If it’s a client or something, they’ll leave a message.”
After a few seconds, my cell fell silent and stopped tickling my side.
“Okay, so since according to you your friend apparently thinks I’m okay, is she gonna be pickin’ at me for the rest of the evenin’?” Ben asked.
“No more than Constance or me,” Felicity replied.
“Great. Like I said, long friggin’ night.”
“What are you complaining about?” I asked. “All this attention from three beautiful ladies… I’m a bit jealous, myself.”
“Yeah, right. Ipecackle or whatever it is Firehair always says.”
“ Cac capaill,” she corrected him. “Horse shit.”
He wagged his finger in her direction and said, “Yeah, that. Twice.”
The conversation was again interrupted by the jangling tones of a cellular phone, but this time it wasn’t mine. Felicity raised an eyebrow and then reached under the table for her purse. Pulling it up she extracted her cell and gazed at it.
“That’s odd,” she mumbled then held the device over in front of me. “That look familiar?”