The Rosemary Caper 6

Old Resentments Die Hard

 Previously: The president of the Merryweather Herb Guild asks China Bayles (a former lawyer, now owner of Thyme & Seasons Herbs) and Ruby Wilcox (the Crystal Cave) to investigate the theft of a rare cookbook from the Guild House. China and Ruby begin with a visit to Cora Demming, who has a definite suspect in mind: Jane Clark and her brother, a dealer in rare books. Jane evades answers and suggests that China and Ruby interview Delia Murphy, a relative of the cookbook’s author, Mrs. Merryweather, and Jerry Weber, a hot-pepper lover. Frustrated, China suggests offering a reward, but Vickie nixes that, as well. And then China comes up with an idea for a recipe contest: a prize for the creative use of rosemary.

Premium extras for supporting subscribers include author’s note, recipes (of course), and more.

If you’re late to the party or you’d like to review the story to remind yourself of where we are, you’ll find the previous episodes here, on the Short Reads tab.

The week is suspenseful. I think back over our conversations with the suspects (AKA members of the Library Committee), wondering if Ruby and I have overlooked a clue. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t think of anything we’ve missed. And I had totally run out of ideas. If our culinary trap doesn’t work, Myra Merryweather’s one-of-a-kind Cookery Book is probably gone forever.

Vickie did her best with publicity about the contest, and word spread fast. Rosemary is a useful landscape shrub where the winters are mild, as they are here in Pecan Springs—and an especially good choice here in the Hill Country because the deer don’t like it. Everybody in the Herb Guild uses it often and has a favorite recipe. The three-hundred-dollar prize was tempting enough to provide an incentive.

So when judgment day finally arrives, the downstairs meeting room at the Guild House is full. The contest entries are arranged on a long table in an adjacent room, each dish attractively presented and accompanied by the recipe written on a white index card with the contestant’s entry number on the back—keyed to a numbered list of names. The judges have already done their work and selected their winner. So while Becky Gates gives a talk on herbal liqueurs and everybody enjoys a convivial sip of her famous Rosemary Orange Honey Liqueur, Ruby and I snoop among the entries. We are checking each recipe against my index of the recipes in Vickie’s photocopy of Mrs. Merryweather’s book, including the jottings in the margins.

“This person has entered something called ‘Kidney-and-Leek Pie with Rosemary Radishes,’” Ruby says, shuddering. “What is she thinking?”

 With a grin, I check my recipe index.  “Myra had better taste. That’s not one of her recipes, so Mabel is in the clear.”

I pick up a card labeled Rosemary Apple Pie—an interesting recipe, but not in the index, either. Somebody (Jerry Weber, I was betting) has entered an herbal blend called Rowdy Rosemary Rub, a colorful mix of rosemary, black pepper, chile powder, garlic powder, onion powder, and sea salt. It’s presented in a clear glass shaker tied with a raffia bow and decorated with a rosemary sprig.

“An original idea,” I say, tipping out a little into my palm tasting it. “Zesty.” I consult my index, but Mrs. Merryweather has only two recipes for herb blends and Rowdy Rosemary isn’t hers, even under a more decorous title.

And neither are the next four entries we check. But the fourth—a rosy liquid in a rosemary-garnished cocktail glass—catches Ruby’s attention. It’s called Rosemary-Cranberry Shrub.

“Shrub?” she asks doubtfully. “What do shrubs have to do with cocktails?”

“Not that kind of shrub,” I say. “When you’re talking about a drink, it’s a vinegar-based sugar or honey syrup that’s flavored with fruit, spices, or herbs and mixed with soda or alcohol or even just water. The word comes from an Arabic word—”sharab.” It just means “drink.” It was popular with the American colonists.”

“Vinegar.” Ruby wrinkles her nose. “Sounds . . . strange.”

“You’d be surprised,” I say. “A shrub is sweet and acidic at the same time. Something like citrus.” I check the index. “A creative entry, but it didn’t come from Mrs. Merryweather.”

By this time, we are more than halfway through the entries and I am beginning to get discouraged. Maybe Vickie and Ruby were right. Maybe our thief is too smart to take the bait.

And then, on the other side of the table, Ruby picks up a card. “Now, here’s a something a little different,” she says. “Rosemary and Ripe Olive Pesto.”

I run my finger down the index. “Pesto!” I exclaim. “That’s it, Ruby! And Mrs. Merryweather actually added that recipe in the margin. Who entered it?”

Without a word, Ruby hands me the card, and together, we check the number on the back against the list of entrants’ names. When I see whose it is, I shake my head, thinking that at least I understand the motive. It’s a sad turn of affairs.

But we’ve caught our thief. Now, the trick is to make her confess—without thumbscrews or waterboarding. The law frowns on that.

We tell Vickie what we’ve learned and the three of us consult with the judges. Back in the meeting room, Mrs. Gates has finished answering questions about herbal liqueurs and Vickie holds up hand for silence.

“And now for the announcement you’ve all been waiting for,” she says. “The winner of our Creative Cooking with Rosemary Contest.”

The room quiets and Betty Ann Pickle, one of the three judges, stands up. “There were many wonderful entries and the decision was difficult,” she says. “So difficult, in fact, that we are making two awards. First prize goes to Mary Beth Walker for her Cranberry-Rosemary-Orange Shrub, a recipe that Myra Merryweather would be proud of. And a prize to Delia Murphy for her Rosemary and Ripe Olive Pesto, which Mrs. Merryweather very likely enjoyed.”

There is a round of applause punctuated by a few disappointed sighs as both women come forward and take their envelopes. Vickie hurries through the rest of the announcements and the meeting is over. Immediately afterward, I whisper to Vickie that Ruby and I will be in the library. A few minutes later, Vickie comes into the room, followed by Delia, who is holding the envelope Betty Ann gave her.

“I thought there was supposed to be a check in this envelope,” she says. “It’s empty. How do I claim my prize money?”

“You don’t,” I say regretfully. “What’s more, we must ask you to return the Myra Merryweather Cookery Book that you took from this room.”

Delia’s eyes widen. “But I . . . I didn’t!” she sputters. “That wasn’t me! I had nothing to do with it!”

Vickie sighs.  “Show her the evidence, China.”

I open the folder containing Vickie’s photocopies and put a page on the table. In the left margin, in Myra Merryweather’s careful script, is written the recipe for the tapenade that Delia entered. “This is your great-aunt’s original recipe,” I say quietly. “You copied it directly out of the book you took.”

There is a long silence as Delia studies the incriminating page, biting her lip. Finally, in a low voice, she says, “I took it because Great-Aunt Myra promised that cookbook to Mother. It was just plain spiteful of her to give it to somebody else.” She raises her head, her voice bitter. “And the house, too. I’ve never forgiven her for cutting my mother out of her will.” There are tears in her eyes as she glances at Vickie. “Now I suppose you’ll call the police and I’ll be arrested.”

Vickie shakes her head. “Not if you return the book, Delia. In fact, we’ll never reveal that it was stolen.”

 “Return it?” Delia wails. “But it’s ours!  It belongs in our family!”

 “Would you rather be charged with the theft?” Vickie asks gently. “China says it’s a felony.”

I have been involved with my share of plea bargains, but this one had to be the strangest. There is another long silence, as Delia wrestles with her options. “I suppose I should give it back,” she mutters at last. She takes out a tissue and blows her nose. “But I still don’t think it’s fair.”

“I’ll go with you to get the book,” Ruby offers.

“Well, come on, then.”  Delia sighs. “Let’s get this over with.” At the door, she pauses and turns back to Vickie. “You promise not to tell anybody about this?”

Vickie holds up three fingers. “Girl Scouts honor,” she says.

“Oh, give me a break.” Delia rolled her eyes.

“We just did,” Vickie sighs. “You could at least have said thank you.”

Two days later, Vickie is back at Thyme & Seasons, all smiles. “We’ve repaired the display case and put the book in it, China,” she says. “I’m very grateful to you for solving the mystery!”

“I wish there could have been a happier ending,” I reply, putting a tray of crackers and a ceramic pot of appetizer on the hospitality shelf at the back of the shop. “It was wrong of Delia to take the book, but I understand why she did it. Old resentments die hard.”

“I know,” Vickie says comfortingly. “But we have the book. And when we publish the new edition, we’ll include a thank you to her—and a special one to you and Ruby. I hope you know how grateful we all are for the way you handled this.” She pauses, then thinks of something else.

“By the way,” she says. “Remember that new furniture of Cora’s?  It turns out that her ex-husband made good on his promise to repay her for taking some of his debts.” She pauses. “And Jerry put a lock on the kitchen door this morning. So the Guild House is a little more secure.”

“That’s good,” I say. I spoon some the appetizer on a cracker and hand it to her. “I’ve been experimenting with Myra’s recipes. Have a taste.”

Vickie pops the cracker into her mouth.  “Delicious!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “Definitely different. What is it?”

“Traditionally, it’s called tapenade," I said. “It’s a pesto made in Provençal with olives, capers, anchovies, and fresh garlic. I’ve added rosemary, though, so it might need a new name. What do you suggest?”

Vickie helps herself to another cracker. “The rosemary flavor really comes through. Very nice, with the umami tang of the capers.” She licks her fingers, thinking. At last she say, “I’ve got it. We’ll name it in honor of our recent crime-solving experience.”

I chuckle. “That’ll work,” I say. “What do you have in mind?”

Vickie gives me a triumphant smile. “How about China’s Rosemary Caper?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes.

Everybody, thanks for reading “The Rosemary Caper.” I hope you’ve enjoyed it! I’ll be back on Monday Feb. 8 with the next edition of our “Senior Chronicle.” And I’m working on another serial to add to our Short Reads series in March-April.

Supporting subscribers: your premium extras for this episode include an author’s note, recipes for Becky Gates’ Rosemary Orange Honey Liqueur, recipes for entries in the Guild’s contest, a brief history of tapenade, and China’s recipe for her Rosemary Caper. Plus an invitation to enter the drawing for February’s Book Bundle (a selection of my books).