Read Online A Steak in Murder by Claudia Bishop - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Claudia Bishop
Tags: Mystery
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again, to a plate of rare hamburgers garnished with a pair of long horns made out of pickles.
Quill coughed and looked at her lap. Harland Peterson said in an interested tone, "What kinda feed-to-kill ratio you get with these heifers, Colonel?" This time the slide was of another female cow with an adorable calf bouncing at her side. The camera had caught the mother affectionately nuzzling the baby's ear. Quill thought she'd never seen such mild-looking animals.
"Take 'em to market at about eighteen months. Little longer than with an Angus or your similar fatty type res taurant beef."
Click: and a beef carcass hanging in a meat locker.
"Back fat on these babies is less'n one percent. You can see from this here pitcher that the marbling is fine, diffused, all the way through. Texas A&M done some studies which show what fat there is, is good for you."
Click: back to a third benign-eyed cow with twin calves at her side.
Quill sketched a horrified vegetarian in a long robe that bore more than a passing resemblance to herself, then looked sideways at Miriam. She was gazing at the screen with a thoughtful expression. The lights came up. Quill glanced around the table. Esther West raised her hand. "Colonel?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"You said three hundred percent?"
"That's right, ma'am. The demand for these here cattle far exceeds the supply. I'm here to talk to you folks about setting up a feedlot operation here in Hemlock Falls that's going to supply the tables of every gourmet in the country. And then some."
"Feedlot," said Quill. "Isn't that a place where the cattle are, um, crammed in and stuffed?"
The colonel narrowed his eyes at her. "You eat foie gras, ma'am?"
Quill admitted that she did.
"There is one thing I have to say to those of you . . ." the colonel hesitated, seemed to change his mind about the word he wanted, and continued, "who are concerned about the welfare of these cattle. Texas longhorns do best when they're running wild and free on the range. They have a ninety-nine percent unassisted live birth rate."
There was a low whistle, presumably of appreciation, from several of the men at the table. As well as Miriam Doncaster. She caught Quill's astonished look and raised an eyebrow. "You knew I was brought up on a dairy farm. In Wisconsin."
"And these mamma cows are fierce in the defense of their young. This here's the only breed of domestic stock around that can coexist with the federally protected coyote."
Rumbles of laughter. Quill, thinking of the mother cows defending their babies, of the beef carcass hanging in the slaughterhouse, of beef that was good for you, and above all, foie gras, which was one of her favorite foods, wished she didn't have to think about this sort of thing at all.
Elmer, beaming at the waves of interest and appreciation flowing around the room like so many buckyballs, rapped genially on the table with his knuckles. With the attention of the room, he said, "Well, now, Colonel Calhoun, you can see that you might have struck a spark here with our citizens. Can you tell us what the next steps will be?"
"I can indeed, son. I've been working with the finest advertising agency—"
"The only advertising agency," Miriam said tartly.
"—in your fair city, and he's got some perfectly splendid ideas about ways to celebrate Hemlock Falls for America Day. Harvey? You want to take the room?"
Harvey stood up with an athletic bounce (he worked out at a gym in Syracuse three times a week) and shook the creases carefully into his trousers. He opened the large portfolio he had placed by his chair and flipped it upright with a practiced hand, then adjusted a small cassette player carefully in front of it. He smiled. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Chamber, Colonel Calhoun, Mr. Rossiter, I give you . . . America!"
Harvey punched the cassette and flipped the A-frame display at the same time. Harvey's voice (a not unpleas ant baritone) floated into the air, accompanied by a rather tinny piano playing
Quill coughed and looked at her lap. Harland Peterson said in an interested tone, "What kinda feed-to-kill ratio you get with these heifers, Colonel?" This time the slide was of another female cow with an adorable calf bouncing at her side. The camera had caught the mother affectionately nuzzling the baby's ear. Quill thought she'd never seen such mild-looking animals.
"Take 'em to market at about eighteen months. Little longer than with an Angus or your similar fatty type res taurant beef."
Click: and a beef carcass hanging in a meat locker.
"Back fat on these babies is less'n one percent. You can see from this here pitcher that the marbling is fine, diffused, all the way through. Texas A&M done some studies which show what fat there is, is good for you."
Click: back to a third benign-eyed cow with twin calves at her side.
Quill sketched a horrified vegetarian in a long robe that bore more than a passing resemblance to herself, then looked sideways at Miriam. She was gazing at the screen with a thoughtful expression. The lights came up. Quill glanced around the table. Esther West raised her hand. "Colonel?"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"You said three hundred percent?"
"That's right, ma'am. The demand for these here cattle far exceeds the supply. I'm here to talk to you folks about setting up a feedlot operation here in Hemlock Falls that's going to supply the tables of every gourmet in the country. And then some."
"Feedlot," said Quill. "Isn't that a place where the cattle are, um, crammed in and stuffed?"
The colonel narrowed his eyes at her. "You eat foie gras, ma'am?"
Quill admitted that she did.
"There is one thing I have to say to those of you . . ." the colonel hesitated, seemed to change his mind about the word he wanted, and continued, "who are concerned about the welfare of these cattle. Texas longhorns do best when they're running wild and free on the range. They have a ninety-nine percent unassisted live birth rate."
There was a low whistle, presumably of appreciation, from several of the men at the table. As well as Miriam Doncaster. She caught Quill's astonished look and raised an eyebrow. "You knew I was brought up on a dairy farm. In Wisconsin."
"And these mamma cows are fierce in the defense of their young. This here's the only breed of domestic stock around that can coexist with the federally protected coyote."
Rumbles of laughter. Quill, thinking of the mother cows defending their babies, of the beef carcass hanging in the slaughterhouse, of beef that was good for you, and above all, foie gras, which was one of her favorite foods, wished she didn't have to think about this sort of thing at all.
Elmer, beaming at the waves of interest and appreciation flowing around the room like so many buckyballs, rapped genially on the table with his knuckles. With the attention of the room, he said, "Well, now, Colonel Calhoun, you can see that you might have struck a spark here with our citizens. Can you tell us what the next steps will be?"
"I can indeed, son. I've been working with the finest advertising agency—"
"The only advertising agency," Miriam said tartly.
"—in your fair city, and he's got some perfectly splendid ideas about ways to celebrate Hemlock Falls for America Day. Harvey? You want to take the room?"
Harvey stood up with an athletic bounce (he worked out at a gym in Syracuse three times a week) and shook the creases carefully into his trousers. He opened the large portfolio he had placed by his chair and flipped it upright with a practiced hand, then adjusted a small cassette player carefully in front of it. He smiled. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Chamber, Colonel Calhoun, Mr. Rossiter, I give you . . . America!"
Harvey punched the cassette and flipped the A-frame display at the same time. Harvey's voice (a not unpleas ant baritone) floated into the air, accompanied by a rather tinny piano playing
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