detectives.”
Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Lindy stared down Jimmy. “Lucy here is the only trained member of law enforcement, but the rest of us contribute to crime solving by using our natural gifts and abilities. It’s important to all of us that right triumphs over wrong in our community.” She fluffed her chin-length black hair self-importantly.
Jimmy’s mouth hung open, exposing a partially decimated Key lime tartlet. He closed his lips, which were also flaky with dried skin, and looked at James. “What are you talkin’ about, girl?”
“She’s just saying that we help one another,” James answered, forcing himself to meet Jimmy’s eyes, which seemed to shift between blue and gray depending on the light. Jimmy had crumbs stuck in the sparse hairs of his salt-and-pepper beard, and as he ran his hand over his shaved head, he left behind a trail of Key lime filling.
“I help folks, too. I’m a tow-truck driver by trade.” He wiggled his hairy eyebrows. “But not for long, folks. Whether I get that contract or not, my ship is comin’ into port this weekend. When I get back to Waxahachie—that’s south of Dallas, Texas, for those of y’all that don’t know God’s country well enough—I’m gonna tell my boss he can take that rusty truck and them hours from hell and them whiny customers and shove them all where the sun ain’t never shone.”
Lindy placed her napkin on the table with forceful deliberation and stood up. “I think I’m going to unpack and then go over my clothes with my travel iron. Nice meeting you and good luck with your …
grilling.”
Lucy also jumped to her feet, followed by James and Bennett.
Jimmy slurped his tea and looked at his watch. “Make sure y’all ain’t late for the openin’ of the party. I’m gonna be samplin’ some mouth-waterin’ ’cue, so stop on by my trailer, ya hear?”
“’Cue?” James inquired of Bennett when they were out of Jimmy’s earshot.
“Slang for barbecue,” Bennett answered immediately. “I imagine Jimmy knows every barbecue term known to man. I’m gonna make it a point to try his cooking.”
“You are?” James was astonished.
“Man with that big a belly and that much swagger knows his food,” Bennett reasoned. “And you heard him. He’s won a whole mess of competitions already. He must have figured out some tricks of the grill, simply by eating all his own mistakes. Look, here comes Gillian. She doesn’t know what she missed.” He poked James in the ribs. “Maybe you should’ve cleansed our room, James.”
Back in their room, the men finished unpacking and James flipped through Bennett’s trivia books.
“How’s your cache of barbecue trivia?” he asked his friend.
Bennett shrugged. “Pretty poor, my man. I hope to store away a hundred facts or so by the time this festival is done.” He held up a mini recorder. “I’m going to carry this with me wherever we go so I can think of questions to research later on. About all I know now is that barbecue is different ’round the country and that everybody thinks theirs is the best.”
“All I’ve had recently is Blue’s, and his was definitely not the best.”
“Poor Blue.” Bennett frowned. “How he’s eked out a livin’ on that dry meat is beyond me. And his weird sauce doesn’t fit into any of the popular categories. Texas and the western states like a feisty tomato-based sauce, the Kansas City folks favor sweet over spicy, North Carolina likes a vinegar sauce with lots of black pepper, and I believe South Carolina and parts of Georgia make a white vinegar sauce mixed with sweet mustard. Kentucky adds Worcestershire to theirs.” He paused. “I read that Florida actually makes a white barbecue sauce using mayo in the tomato base.” Bennett shivered in distaste. “Doesn’t sound too appealing if you ask me, but I’ll try it if they’ve got it here at the festival.”
Once again, James was impressed by the random bits of knowledge stored
Wiping her mouth with her napkin, Lindy stared down Jimmy. “Lucy here is the only trained member of law enforcement, but the rest of us contribute to crime solving by using our natural gifts and abilities. It’s important to all of us that right triumphs over wrong in our community.” She fluffed her chin-length black hair self-importantly.
Jimmy’s mouth hung open, exposing a partially decimated Key lime tartlet. He closed his lips, which were also flaky with dried skin, and looked at James. “What are you talkin’ about, girl?”
“She’s just saying that we help one another,” James answered, forcing himself to meet Jimmy’s eyes, which seemed to shift between blue and gray depending on the light. Jimmy had crumbs stuck in the sparse hairs of his salt-and-pepper beard, and as he ran his hand over his shaved head, he left behind a trail of Key lime filling.
“I help folks, too. I’m a tow-truck driver by trade.” He wiggled his hairy eyebrows. “But not for long, folks. Whether I get that contract or not, my ship is comin’ into port this weekend. When I get back to Waxahachie—that’s south of Dallas, Texas, for those of y’all that don’t know God’s country well enough—I’m gonna tell my boss he can take that rusty truck and them hours from hell and them whiny customers and shove them all where the sun ain’t never shone.”
Lindy placed her napkin on the table with forceful deliberation and stood up. “I think I’m going to unpack and then go over my clothes with my travel iron. Nice meeting you and good luck with your …
grilling.”
Lucy also jumped to her feet, followed by James and Bennett.
Jimmy slurped his tea and looked at his watch. “Make sure y’all ain’t late for the openin’ of the party. I’m gonna be samplin’ some mouth-waterin’ ’cue, so stop on by my trailer, ya hear?”
“’Cue?” James inquired of Bennett when they were out of Jimmy’s earshot.
“Slang for barbecue,” Bennett answered immediately. “I imagine Jimmy knows every barbecue term known to man. I’m gonna make it a point to try his cooking.”
“You are?” James was astonished.
“Man with that big a belly and that much swagger knows his food,” Bennett reasoned. “And you heard him. He’s won a whole mess of competitions already. He must have figured out some tricks of the grill, simply by eating all his own mistakes. Look, here comes Gillian. She doesn’t know what she missed.” He poked James in the ribs. “Maybe you should’ve cleansed our room, James.”
Back in their room, the men finished unpacking and James flipped through Bennett’s trivia books.
“How’s your cache of barbecue trivia?” he asked his friend.
Bennett shrugged. “Pretty poor, my man. I hope to store away a hundred facts or so by the time this festival is done.” He held up a mini recorder. “I’m going to carry this with me wherever we go so I can think of questions to research later on. About all I know now is that barbecue is different ’round the country and that everybody thinks theirs is the best.”
“All I’ve had recently is Blue’s, and his was definitely not the best.”
“Poor Blue.” Bennett frowned. “How he’s eked out a livin’ on that dry meat is beyond me. And his weird sauce doesn’t fit into any of the popular categories. Texas and the western states like a feisty tomato-based sauce, the Kansas City folks favor sweet over spicy, North Carolina likes a vinegar sauce with lots of black pepper, and I believe South Carolina and parts of Georgia make a white vinegar sauce mixed with sweet mustard. Kentucky adds Worcestershire to theirs.” He paused. “I read that Florida actually makes a white barbecue sauce using mayo in the tomato base.” Bennett shivered in distaste. “Doesn’t sound too appealing if you ask me, but I’ll try it if they’ve got it here at the festival.”
Once again, James was impressed by the random bits of knowledge stored
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