Killer Cousins by June Shaw Page A

donuts. Sugar-coated Pop-Tarts and cereal. Sugar for the coffee.
    I looked in the fridge. Texas-sized biscuits with butter flakes. Condensed milk. My mind’s eye saw my waistline expanding as wide as my behind.
    I ate one slice of toast with a pat of butter and drank a half-cup of milk. Even so, I felt my hips carrying two extra pounds as I passed the forbidden room. I returned to its door. Still locked. I sniffed. No lit-candle odor. I checked walls for fire extinguishers and found only a couple. That wouldn’t do. I tossed on clothes and drove to a nearby mart.
    I bought five smoke alarms. Two large fire extinguishers. I piled stacks of paper plates, cups, napkins, and throwaway cutlery in my buggy. Then added food. I grabbed fresh peaches and apples and pears. Going for grapes, I spied a woman who looked familiar. Attractive. Dressed well, and slender with fashionable blond hair. I picked up a package of green grapes. She was choosing purple ones.
    “Hi, I’ve met you,” I said, “but can’t figure out where.”
    She stared at my face a full minute. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember.”
    “I’m Cealie Gunther, visiting in town with my cousin Stevie Midnight.” Maybe she knew Stevie. I tried to recall our connection. “Oh, you were at Cajun Delights. You’re the daytime manager, aren’t you?”
    “Yes. Babs Jacobs. Hi.” She gave me her slim hand.
    “So we didn’t meet. I just saw you around the stage.” I remembered all of the circumstances. She wasn’t smiling then. Her replacement, Jake, had probably arrived late. Stevie guessed Babs was scared to drive at night. Stevie and I both guessed Jake liked her and was too shy or didn’t think he stood a chance with her. “That nice evening manager told all of us your name. Who is he?” I pretended I was thinking.
    “Jake Bryant. He is pretty nice.”
    I watched her expression while she mentioned him. She seemed to be speaking about a co-worker, not a love interest.
    Maybe I could change that.
    “He appeared to be a real pleasant guy,” I said with more enthusiasm than I actually felt. I took a mental scroll of what I knew about Jake and came up short. Oh yes, so was he. And stubby. But I did believe he was a good person. He’d joked about himself, which made me like him.
    That, and he managed my hunky ex-lover’s restaurant.
    So did she. But her smile didn’t grow any wider. I glanced at her hand to double-check for a ring. None on any fingers.
    “How’s your boss?” I had to ask. She cocked her head and looked at me quizzically. “You know. Gil Thurman,” I said.
    “Oh, him.” Her lips spread into a wide, bright smile. “He owns the place but doesn’t tell us what to do or anything.”
    I skimmed her face. She looked barely over thirty.
    “You must know your business real well for him to trust you to run the restaurant,” I said.
    “Why? Did he say anything about me? You really know him?” Concern replaced her happy expression.
    I wouldn’t tell her how intimately I knew the man she worked for.
    “I met him.” And often massaged the small strawberry birthmark on his right hip.
    “You have a slight Southern accent,” Babs told me.
    “So do you,” I said.
    She smiled at our common connection. “I need to move. I go to work in a little while.” She picked up a package of purple grapes.
    “You think the purple ones are better than green?”
    “These have been a lot sweeter.”
    “I’ll try purple.” I swapped my green grapes. “In case Gil is there, would you tell him we met, and I said hi?”
    “I will. Nice meeting you, Ms. Gunther.”
    A thought made me want to call her back and tell her something positive about Jake that might make her consider him as a love interest. But I watched her and decided that would be out of line. I didn’t really know the man. And I couldn’t think of anything clever to say.
    I shoved my buggy toward the checkout, considering things I might tell her if we met at the front of the store. Give