A Corpse in the Soup
A Corpse in the Soup
by Morgan St. James and Phyllice Bradner
Published by L&L Dreamspell
Spring, Texas
Visit us on the web at
www.lldreamspell.com
L&L Dreamspell Edition Copyright 2009 by Morgan St. James and Phyllice Bradner
All Rights Reserved
Cover and Interior Design by L & L Dreamspell
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the copyright holder, except for brief quotations used in a review.
This is a work of fiction, and is produced from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people is a coincidence. Places and things mentioned in this novel are used in a fictional manner.
ISBN- 978-1-60318-121-1
Published by L & L Dreamspell
Produced in the United States of America
Visit us on the web at
www.lldreamspell.com
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
We would like to thank the following people for their contributions to A Corpse In The Soup: Our manuscript consultant Jen Henderson, our wonderful family and friends for unknowingly providing us with the models for some of our wacky characters, Morgan’s husband Dr. Hubert Kottlove and her children Scott Goodkin, Jakki Pransky and Jason Pransky, Phyllice’s late husband Dr. Jim Matson and her son Ross Bradner for encouraging and supporting us, astrologist Carol LeVeque for her help with Goldie and Flossie, our first-look readers Judy Deutsch, Mary Goodkin, Jerry and Susie Huey and Joyce Peck for valuable comments and suggestions and the Henderson Writers Group and Sisters in Crime for knowledge gained at their writers’ conferences.
DEDICATION
To our mother, who passed away a few months before her 97th birthday. She believed that her girls could do anything they tried, and although she is gone, she remains our inspiration and shining light.
CHAPTER 1
Godiva Olivia Dubois held the paper at arm’s length, squinting to read the jagged script without her glasses. “You know, on days like today I think I should have stuck with my little column in the
Beverly Hills Blabbermouth
instead of becoming syndicated.” She finally put on her glasses and read out loud.
Dear G. O. D.,
I’ve prayed to The Lord for guidance, but he doesn’t answer. The longer I stand by and watch, the more I know my mission. Time is running short now, so I’m turning to you. I have to know. Is it a sin to kill a monster?
Please tell me I won’t go to Hell if I rid the world of this human piece of garbage. I don’t do well in extreme heat.
Mr. Clean
Maybe some joker is pulling my leg.
She read it again, digesting every word, shuddered, and pushed it over to her mother.
“Mom, this letter is really spooky. Read it and see what you think.”
Flossie picked up the creased ivory sheet. It wobbled in her veined hand as she glanced up and down the page clicking her tongue. “You see, Godiva?” She shook the paper under her daughter’s nose. “That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you. When you write a column called
Ask G.O.D.,
don’t be surprised if you get letters from nutcases.”
Godiva snatched the letter back. “I should have known you’d say that.” She marched across the room and plunked it down on the table. “Read this one, Unk. Mom thinks it’s from a crank, but I’m afraid it might be real.” Sterling Silver dropped the mail sack he was emptying onto the mahogany library table.
Holding the sheet like a dead skunk, his eyes crinkled as he strained to read. “Forget about it, honey. Sounds like a crank to me. Just stick to the funny ones. Remember, the audience loves a good laugh.”
“Yeah, I know, Unk, but something feels weird about this. I’m just not sure what to do.” Godiva retrieved the letter from him, put it back in the envelope and slipped it into the pocket of her embroidered silk jacket.
She scooped up another pile and started plowing through it. “What would I do without you guys? I feel like I’m swimming up stream.”
Flossie rolled her eyes. “Well you’re up to your neck, all right. Since the beginning of time people have asked God for advice, so what does my daughter do? She gives them an address! Did you listen to what I told you? Of course not. So our poor mailman’s getting a hernia schlepping letters from all these...these...” She made a sweep of the room with her hand. “...these wackos.”
“Wackos sell papers, Mother. How do you think those tabloids can afford to pay out millions to settle libel suits?”
After slitting open a few more envelopes, Flossie waved a piece of pink paper at her. “Now, here’s a dilly. This woman’s husband dresses up like Mae West and wants her to go shopping for lingerie with him.”
A smile lit Godiva’s face. “Hmmm. Might have potential...”
“Hah! Listen to this. She wants to know if it’s all right for him to use the ladies’ dressing room if she goes in with him!”
Sterling let out a belly laugh. “You know, your goofy Uncle Lester used to dress up like a woman. Of course it was part of his vaudeville act, but he really did look a lot like Mae West...”
Flossie’s gray eyes glazed over, “Mae West, some gal! You know her mother made Mama’s corsets. But Sterling, you’re all wet about Lester. He looked more like Bette Davis with a mustache. My beautiful girls are the real Mae West look-alikes. Strike a pose for me, Darling.”
Godiva put her hand on her generous hip and pursed her lips.
“You see, Sterling? If that gorgeous silver hair was phony platinum blonde, what would you have? Another Mae West!”
“You know, Flossie, you’ve got something there. And look at me...” He mimed an imaginary top hat and cane. “Rosy cheeks, a few pounds and I’m Maurice Chevalier.”
“Yeah, and I’m Marilyn Monroe!”
“Well, old girl, I’d say you’re more like Estelle Getty. You know, those Golden Girls...” Flossie flung a satin pillow in Sterling’s direction as he began to hum a few bars of
“Thank Heaven for Little Girls
.”
Godiva waved her arms, “Hey, back to business, you guys. The letter you’ve got there is a winner, Mom! Throw it in the red basket.”
Uncle Sterling dug through another canvas bag. “At the rate this stuff is rolling in, what we really need is two of you.”
“Well if you’re thinking about Goldie, I don’t think she’d help even if she lived near enough.”
Flossie looked up from the letters she was sorting and threw up her hands, palms out. “Such twins I’ve got! One daughter calls herself G.O.D. and tells people how to run their lives and the other one lives in Alaska and chases bears out of her garbage.”
Sterling scooped the newest batch of envelopes into a yellow laundry basket. “Flossie, you sound like a crabby old Jewish mother. You know Goldie’s happy up there in her one-horse town with Red and Chili and the whole goofy Pepper clan and all that old crap she calls antiques. Isn’t that all that really matters?”
“I guess you’re right.” Flossie sighed. “But I sure do miss my little Chili. I wonder if she plays with that doll I gave her for her last birthday. Remember, it had red curls just like hers?”
“Flossie old girl, there you go losing track of time again. You gave her that doll over ten years ago.”
“Yeah, Mom. She’s not little any more. She’s a sous chef on her dad’s cruise ship now.”
Flossie’s eyes brightened as she tapped her forehead with her fingertips. “How could I forget? She’s sailing around Alaska with Red.”
Sterling chuckled. “Not at the moment, Flossie. Tourist season just ended.”
Godiva grabbed at the pile of mail sliding off her lap.
Chili, of course. I could use that girl. All I need to do is get her down here.
Staring into space, she fingered the creased ivory envelope in her pocket. She pulled it out, but even touching it gave her the creeps.
Oh hell, I can’t deal with that now. Mom’s probably right. Just some nut case.
She shoved the letter back into her jacket where it smoldered for several hours before it was forgotten.
CHAPTER 2
Chili shined the Georgian silver tea set as she told her mother about the elderly cruise ship passenger who dropped his glass eye in the clam chowder. Goldie laughed. “That reminds me of your Grandma’s friend Hymie Kaplan. He would take out his glass eye and set it on the table. ‘Here’s lookin’ at you kid,’ he used to say.”
She pointed to a set of tarnished silver goblets that needed attention and Chili attacked them with her polishing cloth. As she began another story, the little hammer vibrated against the metal bell on the old fashioned telephone.
Goldie sprinted to the back of the store. Even before she answered the phone, the prickle at the base of her neck told her who was calling.
“Silver Spoon Antiques. Hello, Godiva.”
“Goldie, I’m so glad I caught you. Is Chili there with you by any chance? I’ve got some wonderful news for her.”
Goldie gritted her teeth. “Caught me? Where did you think I’d be the last week of the tourist season? And yeah, Chili’s here, but every time you say you’ve got wonderful news, it’s only
wonderful
for you. So, what are you after?”
“Goldie, how could you say that? Do you really think I’d take advantage of your daughter?”
“You certainly would,” she snapped back.
Goldie rested the phone against her shoulder and called for Chili. “It’s your Aunt Godiva.”
Chili abandoned the silver polish and slid the phone beneath her mass of copper ringlets. “Auntie! How are things going down in California?”
Goldie fidgeted with a display of silver-plated hand mirrors and hairbrushes wondering what Godiva was up to now.
Chili jumped up and down. “Who? Oh my God! Of course I know who he is. Caesar Romano is only the hottest chef in Hollywood. I love his show. In fact, I helped prepare one of his recipes on the ship for the Prince of Liechtenstein. It was so good he practically gave us all medals.” She turned to Goldie. “Hey, Mom! Auntie’s got tickets for a taping of
Flirting with Food
!”
“Really? Be sure to ask her to get that sexy chef’s autograph for you.”
“No, no, Mom.” Chili’s eyes bugged out. “She says one of the tickets is for me and...oh, no way! I don’t believe it! She’s got tickets to
Gourmet Gladiators
too!” Doing a little pirouette, she nearly knocked down a mannequin wearing a vintage, hand-beaded flapper dress.
Goldie managed to catch the dummy just before it hit a china cabinet. “Gourmet what?”
“
Gourmet Gladiators
, Mom. It’s like the Superbowl of cooking. They hold it every year at the end of October.” She covered the mouthpiece of the phone. “Mom, I know I just got here, but we can hang out when I get back.” Goldie heard Godiva firing rapid instructions into Chili’s ear.
“Besides, Mom, Aunt Godiva says she booked a first-class flight for me on Thursday, her treat. I can’t really back out now. Still...” She laid a gentle hand across Goldie’s forearm. “...I know we were supposed to spend some time together.” She bit her lower lip. Goldie glanced at herself in the Art Deco mirror hanging on the wall beside her, surprised to see how annoyed she looked.
She gave her daughter’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay, sweetie. This is a great opportunity. If I was able to send you to France to study at Cordon Bleu and watch you sail away on your dad’s cruise ship, I think I can handle a little trip to California.” Goldie tugged on a wayward strand of her daughter’s hair and smiled.
Chili squealed a joyous thank you to her aunt and her mother, tossed the handset to Goldie and disappeared out the door.
Goldie lifted the phone back to her ear. “Well, Godiva, I suppose I ought to thank you for doing this for Chili. It really was thoughtful of you! I guess it pays to have a Beverly Hills mucky-muck relative now and again.”
“Oh, it’s nothing, Sis. I promise you, she’ll have a wonderful time. But I need to run. Deadlines, you know.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot you’re a national celebrity now. By the way, did you know we even get your
Ask G.O.D.
column in the
Juneau Fish Wrapper
? You look good in the picture. Some people actually think it’s me. One gal asked my advice right there in the checkout line at Foodland.”
“She did? That’s wonderful! I hope you gave her a good answer. My reputation, you know. Seriously, Sis, I can’t believe how well known I’ve become in such a short time.”
“I’m not surprised, Godiva. You’ve always loved being in the spotlight. I guess the Silver blood flows a little stronger in you than me.”
“Yes, I suppose it does. By the way, tell Chili I’ll give her the run of my kitchen while she’s in town. Who knows? Maybe she’ll find she likes it down here. Ta ta, darling!”