Nacho Average Murder Read online

  DEATH BY POISON

  “I stopped by Paul’s apartment a little earlier and talked to his roommate, Grace. She said the police took away the container he always used to bring home his meal from the restaurant where he did bike delivery, the Green Artichoke.”

  Alana blinked. “To test it for poison?”

  “That would be my guess. It looks like they’re treating his death as a possible suspicious one.”

  “Murder?” Alana gave me a horrified look.

  “Maybe . . .”

  Books by Maddie Day

  Country Store Mysteries

  FLIPPED FOR MURDER

  GRILLED FOR MURDER

  WHEN THE GRITS HIT THE FAN

  BISCUITS AND SLASHED BROWNS

  DEATH OVER EASY

  STRANGLED EGGS AND HAM

  NACHO AVERAGE MURDER

  Collections

  CHRISTMAS COCOA MURDER

  (with Carlene O’Connor and Alex Erickson)

  Cozy Capers Book Group Mysteries

  MURDER ON CAPE COD

  MURDER AT THE TAFFY SHOP

  And writing as Edith Maxwell

  A TINE TO LIVE, A TINE TO DIE

  ’TIL DIRT DO US PART

  FARMED AND DANGEROUS

  MURDER MOST FOWL

  MULCH ADO ABOUT MURDER

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Nacho Average Murder

  MADDIE DAY

  KENSINGTON BOOKS

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  DEATH BY POISON

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Recipes

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Edith Maxwell

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the Klogo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Kensington Books Mass Market Paperback Printing: July 2020

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-2315-4

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-2316-1 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-2316-3 (ebook)

  For my Temple City, California, classmates, then and now, who have become some of my biggest fans. We have our own high school reunion this year—number fifty—and I sure hope no murders go along with it!

  Acknowledgments

  I spent a week in Santa Barbara recently to soak up the sights and sounds and to refresh my memory of that lovely city nestled between mountains and the Pacific Ocean. My apologies to Santa Barbara residents for moving your Tuesday afternoon farmers’ market to Wednesday morning and for adding Mama Tamale. I made up a few streets, too. I took inspiration from Madame Rosinka’s palm-reading establishment on Stearns Wharf, but Madame Allegra is entirely of my own creation. Thanks, also, to the real Chumash Casino for giving me ideas. I stole the name Pause Yoga from the best yoga teacher in New England, Jennifer Walker Freeman. Because the late, great Sue Grafton lived in Montecito and set her Kinsey Millhone mysteries in a fictionalized Santa Barbara, I included various mentions of her as an homage.

  No aspersions are implied on the actual Santa Barbara County coroner’s office and personnel—the version in this book is entirely fictional. Author Micki Browning, a former member of the Santa Barbara Police Department, gave me help with local details about the criminal justice system, but all errors are of my own doing, including my entirely made-up interior of the station.

  Thank you to D. P. Lyle, MD, for information about what a ruptured aneurysm looks like and how it is detected, and to Geoff Symon for his excellent online class about autopsies. Gratitude to Cristina Olán and my son JD Hutchison-Maxwell for checking the Spanish phrases in the book. Intrepid traveling friend Bonnie Kittle provided the inspiration to include the very odd-looking Buddha’s hand citron.

  While Alana wasn’t the name of my high school bestie, I drew on my once-a-decade visits with Cindy Cobb Snyder—most recently during the writing of this book—for some of the scenes featuring Robbie and Alana. I’m so grateful Cindy and I can pick up where we left off, even fifty years later. I often crowdsource my punny titles, and Evelyn Dillon came up with this one. Thanks, Evelyn! I riffed on it for the name of the café.

  Many thanks to Terri Bischoff and her expert editing chops for giving the book a pre-submission read and for helping me improve it in all kinds of ways.

  My gratitude, always, to my family, to the fabulous team at Kensington Publishing, to my agent, John Talbot, and to the Wicked Authors. Please join Jessica Ellicott, Sherry Harris, Julie Hennrikus, Liz Mu-gavero, Barbara Ross, and me on our blog and our Facebook group. I never stop learning from these ladies, who provide ongoing inspiration, a sounding board, and fun.

  Don’t worry, fans. Robbie will be back in South Lick for the next book. But wasn’t it fun to take a trip to California?

  Chapter 1

  Like Dorothy in Oz, I definitely wasn’t in Indiana anymore. At least the Wicked Witch hadn’t shown up. Yet.

  The sun had just dipped into the Pacific Ocean, and a mild Santa Barbara breeze shooshed through tall palm trees. Mellow jazz slid out of speakers in a spacious function hall facing the water with glass doors open to a wide patio. The Chumash High School tenth reunion committee had organized every detail. I sipped a glass of pinot noir from a winery located less than an hour’s drive away in the Santa Ynez Mountains behind us, and nervously adjusted my favorite turquoise shoulder bag. So far I hadn’t seen anybody I really wanted to hang out with tonight. But people were still coming in, and I knew Alana Lieberman would be here, my bestie and constant companion from our high school days.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see a different former classmate.

  “Robbie Jordan!” Jason Wong said. “What a surprise. I thought you moved back east somewhere.”

  I looked up at my slender friend. “Jason, it’s awesome to see you. Indiana is east of here, for sure, but nearly half the country is beyond it.” I’d had the same notion when I was growing up here on the West Coast. We all considered anywhere on the other side of the Rocky Mountains to be “back east.” “I wouldn’t miss this reunion for anything.”

  He lowered his voice. “I heard about your mom, Rob. I’m so sorry.”

  I smiled at the nickname he and Alana had called me by. “Thanks. It’s been two years now. I still miss her, especially being back in all the familiar places.” I blew out a breath and drew my light sweater a little closer around me. The sleeveless flowered dress I’d chosen wasn’t quite warm enough for the evening, and I was glad I’d brought the wrap. “What are you up to?”

  “I’m a proud member of the SBPD.” He pushed up his glasses.

  “The police department?”

  “Yes. I’m kind of their tech detective. Some of the older guys, well, they’re not really up on digital anything. I investigate cybercrime, Internet forensics, the works.”

  “That’s awesome. Or what did we say? That’s sick.” We’d been on math team together and had been buddies all through high school.

  He snorted. “Good thing that phrase went the way of the dodo. So what do you do in Iowa?”

  “Jason, it’s Indiana. You’re such a Californian. Anyway, I own a country store. I have a breakfast-and-lunch restau
rant downstairs, B-and-B rooms upstairs, and an apartment at the back of the building. It’s a pretty sweet setup.”

  “So the crossword queen goes all proprietor on us. I like it.”

  “I do, too.” I glanced at the ID on his lanyard, which featured his senior picture. “Man, you look twelve in that photo.”

  He pointed at mine. “And you don’t?”

  “What can you do?” I shook my head. “Are you married? Have kids?”

  “No to both. Going to college and then making it through the academy took up all my time. Still hoping to settle down, though. You?”

  “I had a brief but disastrous marriage right after college. Now I’ve found a solid boyfriend, but that’s as far as we’ve gotten.”

  “Glad you snagged a good man.”

  I was, too. Abe O’Neill was as good as they come. I looked around. Clumps of classmates, all of us nearly thirty, stood talking, laughing, reconnecting. Sure, people were cleaned up and in nice clothes, but everybody still seemed to be in pretty good shape. I idly mused on what we would look like in forty years at our fiftieth reunion. More paunch, for sure. Plus gray, dyed, or no hair, depending.

  An arm went around my shoulder. “Hey, girlfriend. Whassup?” Alana said.

  I twisted to see her. “Hey, you!” I threw both arms around her for a long-overdue embrace. We pulled apart to stand grinning stupidly at each other. She’d been my puzzling friend, my biking companion, and my confidante. I’d moved east and she’d slid north to Berkeley to put her doctorate in biochemistry to good use in some high-powered lab. Despite keeping in touch online, we hadn’t seen each other in person since graduation.

  “You guys need to get a room or something?” Jason elbowed me.

  “Shut UP, Wong.” My petite friend exchanged fist bumps with him. “How you been? Keeping the city safe?” She wore her auburn hair in a no-nonsense ear-length cut, as usual, and tonight she’d dressed in a green silk top and loose dark pants. Alana had never been one for skirts.

  “Doing what I can,” he said. “Have you figured out a cure for cancer?”

  “Working on it.” Alana told him.

  “Really?” I asked.

  She gave a little shrug. “Robbie, you know there are all kinds of cancers. But, yes, we are micro-millimetering our way closer to—”

  A fingers-in-the-mouth whistle split the air. We turned toward the side of the room where a woman stood. I looked again. It was Katherine Russom, not my favorite person from our school days. The buzz of conversation quieted.

  She waved both hands in the air. “Welcome to our tenth Chumash reunion, everybody! You’ve all got your name tags, so don’t hesitate to go find your former best friend or worst enemy and tell them how much better they look now.” She paused, clearly expecting a laugh. When nothing more than a polite smattering of chuckles resulted, she flicked back shoulder-length blond hair and continued. “We did pretty well getting nearly a hundred of you here out of a class of two hundred and fifty. Who came from farthest away?”

  I surveyed the room. On the other side of the crowd a man waved his hand. He was tall enough that I could see dark hair already starting to recede.

  “Sydney, Australia.”

  “Wow. Let’s give it up for Joe Abrams.” Katherine clapped. “Anybody from back east?”

  Jason pointed to my head, so I raised a hand. “It’s only halfway back, but Indiana.”

  Katherine peered. “Robbie Jordan?” Her mouth twisted like she’d tasted a moldy tortilla.

  “Hi, everybody,” I called out. “It’s great to be back.” Mostly.

  Katherine cleared her throat. “The buffet is all ready, so load up a plate. We have a killer entertainment lined up after dinner.”

  Jason glanced at me and murmured, “If she’d ever encountered a real killer, she wouldn’t use the word so lightly.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “Alana knows this, but you probably don’t. I’ve been involved in solving several homicide cases in the last couple of years.”

  He raised a surprised eyebrow. “No way, Rob. Truth?”

  “Truth.”

  Alana nodded. “She told me about at least one of the cases. The guy in the ice?” She shivered. “That sounded like a nightmare.”

  “It kind of was,” I agreed. “Small-town life isn’t always the quiet, cozy existence people think it must be.”

  “Even here in paradise”—Jason gestured to the rose-colored clouds and white sand outside the doors—“we aren’t immune to crime.”

  I shook my head slowly. “No, I bet you aren’t.”

  Chapter 2

  The buffet food was way better than I’d expected. The chef presented a creamy lime-chili-cilantro treatment on the halibut, a light Asian dressing on a soba noodle salad studded with slivers of colorful vegetables, and flaky empanadas with a cheesy chicken filling. A perfectly Californian meal. The wines were from Los Olivos and the bartender also had two taps from the Telegraph Brewing Company on offer.

  As we ate, Jason, Alana, and I caught up with several other classmates at our table, all of whom had stayed in the area. Nobody had brought spouses or significant others, and only one had started a family.

  When Alana used her left hand to lift her wineglass, I caught a flash of starlight. “Give me that hand,” I demanded.

  She blushed and extended it, the fourth finger of which was adorned with a fat diamond on a slender gold band.

  “When?” I asked in mock anger. “Who? And how didn’t I know this?”

  “Hey, it’s not like I’ve had a chance to tell you,” Alana said. “His name is Antonio Lacambria, we work together, and we don’t have a date yet.” Her smile was sweeter than homemade peach ice cream. “He only asked me a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Congratulations, Al,” I said with a stupid grin. “I’m really happy for you. Is he Italian?”

  “Yes. His parents are Jews from Rome, but Antonio was born in San Francisco.”

  “Your marriage linen monogram will be perfect for both of you,” I said. “A–L.”

  “Not that we’re the monogram type,” Alana scoffed. “But yeah, we happen to share initials. Kind of perfect, in my mind.”

  Jason lifted his drink. “To Mrs. Al.”

  The three of us clinked glasses and our classmates across the table raised theirs, too. Alana gave us more details about her freshly minted fiancé for a few minutes while we dined.

  Katherine, making the rounds greeting each table, approached us. “How’s everything, kids?” A cloud of perfume came with her, way too strong for my taste.

  “The food is outstanding,” I began.

  “Thank you. I selected the city’s hottest young chef.”

  Jason cleared his throat. “Katherine, I thought the committee did the selection.”

  She lifted her chin and waved away his correction. “Of course, of course. Robbie, I expect you don’t get much of interest to eat back there in Ohio.”

  My new mantra seemed to be geographical correction. “It’s Indiana. And we happen to have some excellent chefs in the area.”

  “Robbie’s a chef, herself,” Jason said.

  “I heard you were a short-order cook.” Katherine pushed a strand of hair lightly off her temple with a ring-free left hand.

  I smiled at her. How else to defuse this grudge she’d apparently been harboring for more than a decade? I didn’t care what she thought of me. I was happy and supporting myself doing what I loved. “And what do you do?”

  “I run a wedding planning company. We handle all the details, right down to the bridesmaids’ shoes.”

  Alana regarded her. “You’d be good at that stuff.”

  “I enjoy it,” Katherine said. “You still burying yourself in a lab, Alana?”

  “Quite happily so, yes.” She tilted her head and gave Katherine a little smile. “You didn’t much care for lab classes, did you?”

  I shot a glance at Alana. I knew what she meant. She’d been paired with Katherine for an experiment in biology class once, and had reported back that Katherine hadn’t done any of the work.