I flipped the photo of his hand in front of him. His pudgy face registered shock.
“Why’d you do it, Marvin?”
“That’s nothing but a picture of a hand. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“May I see your left hand?”
“His attempt at glibness faded and he reluctantly held up his hand. The wedding ring on his finger matched the one in the photo. “Have you seen her?” he asked.
“Wendy? Sure.”
“Isn’t she beautiful? So much warmer and more charming than her.” He pointed to Natasha. “Wendy’s everything to me. If she wins, our lives will change. I won’t be good enough for her anymore.”
“So you sabotaged her?”
“I just switched a few things around. Then I didn’t want it to be so obvious that she was the only one, so I monkeyed with your ingredients, too.” He seemed truly contrite when he muttered, “Sorry.”
His worried eyes caught something behind me and he stiffened. I turned to see Wendy trundling toward us, her broad face without a hint of makeup, revealing freckles and hot red cheeks. Any hint of a waist had long disappeared.
I seized Marvin’s hand. “You will never do this again. Promise me.”
The skin under his chin wobbled when he shook his head. “Never. I promise.”
Wendy joined him inside her work space. “That Natasha makes me so darned mad. She had the nerve to tell the press that my wild rice stuffing should be eliminated because I used a can of commercial soup in it. There’s nothing about that in the rules. She’s such a snob. Maybe she’d have been happier if I picked the mushrooms myself? What hogwash. If she keeps it up, she might just get an earful of my opinion of her slimy oysters. Why does she think she’s the queen diva? How do you put up with her?”
I sensed a new Natasha rival in the making and suppressed a smile. “She just does that for the press. You’ll note they’re all over at her station. Look at it this way—she did you a favor because she just got you a little publicity.”
“It doesn’t upset you?”
I couldn’t lie to her. “Sometimes.” She didn’t need to know how much Natasha aggravated me. Even though I felt generous toward Natasha right now, I suspected that would fade with time as Natasha got on her high horse again.
Wendy asked Marvin, “Did you protect my ingredients? Did any suspicious people stop by to tamper with them? Like Natasha, for instance?”
The color drained from his face and he looked to me.
“No one stopped by,” I said. “You’re very lucky to have a husband who is so crazy about you, Wendy.”
She smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think I’ll keep him.”
I wished her luck and let the curtain drop. I could only hope that I had scared Marvin into helping Wendy instead of ruining her chances.
“Sophie?”
I turned and found Mr. Coswell, my editor, standing on the other side of my counter. He shook my hand. “I came by to offer my support to our newest star. Your advice has been a hit. My wife even quotes you.”
I thanked him for his kind words. “I’ve been a little busy, but I plan to work on that website this week.”
“Not to worry. I would have been here on Wednesday, but I was quite shaken when Otis was murdered. I’d known him for years. He met me, well, he met me at the grocery store, the same day I ran into you there. He’d just given me his report about you and when he was leaving, he was killed. But you know more about that than I do.”
I blinked at him, wondering if I’d heard right. “You hired Otis Pulchinski to check me out?”
“We have to check on everyone. It was nothing personal. You wouldn’t believe the false credentials people claim. He gave you a very good report.”
“I guess you didn’t tell the cops you hired him to find out about me?”
“Good heavens, no. The way things are these days, everything we do in personnel is confidential.” He lowered his voice, “Besides, Defective Kenner never gives me any information when I need it for an article in the paper.”
Defective Kenner? Was that what locals called the stiff, unfriendly guy?
Coswell grinned. “If he wanted to know why I met with Otis at the grocery store, he would have to subpoena that information. Besides, it wouldn’t have helped the cops to know Otis was impressed by your devotion to your dog. He really liked that you and your husband share custody. Said he was going to leave a homeless kitten on your doorstep because he knew you’d give it a good home.” He snorted. “Poor Otis. The cops said Clyde must have followed him and lured him behind the store.”
The loudspeaker crackled. “Contestants, your time begins . . . now!”
I waved to Coswell, preheated the oven, and started chopping celery.
Aromas of thyme, sage, and bacon filled the air in the ballroom. With all the ovens going, our work spaces turned into saunas. I was thrilled when four hours had passed and we lined up for the announcement of the results.
I should have been nervous, but this moment signaled the end of all the tension I’d been under. The killer was in custody and the stuffing competition was behind me.
“And in third place, we proudly present this medal to local celebrity chef Pierre LaPlumme.”
“Zut alors,” he muttered as he walked up to accept his medal.
“In second place, for her Crusty Country Bread, Bacon, and Herb Stuffing, Sophie Winston.”
A hoot went up from the crowd. My family and Mars’s applauded. Humphrey, Bernie, and Wolf stood front and center with Nina, cheering. I looked over at Natasha. They’d managed to find a duplicate of the original turkey trophy. Somehow, I didn’t think either one of us wanted it.
“And the winner of the TV special and the magazine cover is Wendy Schultz!”
Wendy glowed.
Marvin screamed.
I hoped he’d remember his promise. Wendy accepted the turkey trophy with unrestrained glee and said, “I am so flattered to have won over these distinguished cooks.” She looked straight at Natasha when she said, “This proves that plain old good cooking is never too ordinary. It doesn’t have be exotic to taste good and be a winner.”
THIRTY-THREE
From “Ask Natasha” :
Dear Natasha,
Everyone on my street decorates their houses for Christmas beautifully, except for one little old lady who does nothing. She’s a bit ornery and slammed her door in my face last year when I brought her a fruitcake. How can we convince her to put a wreath on her door and some lights in her windows?”
—Christmas-Crazy in Christiansburg
Dear Christmas-Crazy,
Plan a decorating block party. Ask the city if you can block your street to traffic for one day. Set up a table outside with hot cider in a crockpot and serve homemade doughnuts. Perfume the air by roasting chestnuts. When the whole block gets together to decorate your street, she won’t be able to turn away the wreath you make especially for her or the lights that neighbors string on her home. She’ll be thrilled to be part of the holiday festivities.