Hot Dish Heaven: A Murder Mystery With Recipes Read Online Free PDF Page A

girl, even a minister.”
    She brushed by me on her way to the stove. “No doubt Vivian’s a good woodworker and a fine artist. That’s what brought her and Vern together in the first place. They grew up in the same 4-H club, and one of ’em was always winnin’ the blue ribbons in the art competitions, even at the state fair. Just like Vern, Vivian’s a wiz with a carvin’ knife.”
    She pulled on a pair of oven mitts, reached for two cast-iron skillets of cooked ground beef, and plodded over to the sink. There, she transferred the meat to her colander. “But what she did for that weddin’ was a bit over the top, if ya ask me. With all those big-headed, wooden people standin’ about, Little Val’s real guests had trouble gettin’ around.”
    I couldn’t imagine anyone populating a wedding reception with fake people. “Didn’t they look out of place?”
    The hot-dish waltz continued. Margie rinsed the ground beef, returned it to the skillets, crossed to the prep table, and spooned the meat into the casserole dishes. “Well, they ended up bein’ a bigger part of the festivities than Vivian ever intended, that’s for darn sure.” Out of the corner of her mouth, she muttered, “Buford kept pretendin’ to make out with one of the fake bridesmaids. That boy will do anythin’ for a laugh. And Ole got so drunk he couldn’t tell the real bridesmaids from the pretend ones. A half dozen times he dragged a wooden one onto the dance floor, only to yell at it for not bein’ light on its feet. And by midnight, he was ready to fight the fake groom just because he ‘didn’t like the look in his eyes.’”
    I briefly bit my lip to keep from laughing. “I take it that once Ole started drinking, he didn’t stop?”
    Margie stirred various Italian seasonings into the meat, the resulting aroma reminding me how hungry I was for honest-to-goodness food. My sustenance for the day had been limited to a half pound of M&Ms, three bars, and four green beans.
    “Ole lived with Samantha Berg for five months, and during that entire time, I never saw him sober. Then he just up and left her. I like to believe he woke up one mornin’ clear-headed for some reason, saw he was in bed with a pig, and ran like hell. He moved into an old trailer out on Vivian and Vern’s farm, quit drinkin’, and tried to make amends with Lena.” She punctuated the air with her spoon. “But before he succeeded, Lena died, sendin’ him right back to the bottle ’til the county judge gave him thirty days in jail.”
    “For drinking?”
    “Not exactly.” She laid her spoon on the counter. “At the county fair, some months after Lena’s death, Ole got real drunk in the beer garden and ran butt naked through the Future Farmers’ cow judgin’.” She closed her eyes. “Uff-da, what a sight. I couldn’t eat rump roast for a month!”
    Again I tried not to laugh, but this time I failed. “Sorry, it’s just that …”
    “It’s okay. It was sorta funny. See, there we were, sittin’ in the bleachers in the cow barn, waitin’ for Buford and Buddy to bring in their heifers, when all of a sudden, Ole ran in wearin’ nothin’ but his boots and a smile. He couldn’t have been drunker if he were twins. He galloped around the ring, swattin’ his bare ass like he was whippin’ a horse. I thought Vivian was goin’ to keel right over.”
    I laughed even harder.
    Margie bent down and gathered up several glass canning jars filled with tomato sauce. “When I make food to sell, I have to use store-bought ingredients.” The abrupt change of subject led me to stifle myself, hoping I hadn’t offended her with all my guffawing. “But whenever I do private events, I can use vegetables straight from my garden and homemade sauces. They’re far tastier.” She wrestled the jars and ultimately won, laying the lids on the metal table with a series of clangs.
    “Anyways, the police couldn’t get Ole under control at first.” She scrunched up her face.