Potluck and Poison

I always dreamed of being a part of my favorite show, Parking Lot Potluck, but I never expected them to ask me to help solve a murder.

Someone poisoned a dish on the popular cooking competition show. The host is dead and my favorite judge is in critical condition. The only one who witnessed the crime was Great Dane, Chloe.

Persephone and I are off to Seattle to solve the crime, but things are much different behind the scenes. Have the cast and crew been working on a recipe for deception, or was it a contestant with a case of sour grapes who’s brought production to a halt?

And Chloe isn’t talking to my talking cat.

Hi, my name’s Addie Dawson, and I’m used to playing wing woman to a famous, talking cat. But for my human friends? I considered myself too socially awkward to help them in the romance department.
“Are you sure you don’t want Brooke to go with you instead?” I asked when Casey arrived at my apartment. She wore the latest version of her first date LBD, Lucky Junior. She’d given Lucky Senior to me when I needed a little extra mojo to solve my very first crime with Persephone, who the world now knew as Spy Kitty in the City.
“The last time I double dated with Brooke and Jason the guys hit it off and it was like I wasn’t even there.” Casey crouched down to pat Persephone, who rubbed against her legs in greeting. “And then afterward, he made plans with Jason instead of me!”
“So this time, you’re bringing the old people.” At thirty-two, I was ten years older than Casey and Brooke. Henry was three years older than me.
“You’re not old. It’s trivia night and I’d be crazy to not want Henry on our team. But if this guy blows me off for another potential bromance, I’ll know it’s something I’m doing.” She stood and did a quick modeling pose. “That’s why tonight, I’m pulling out the big guns and wearing Lucky Junior.”
Even before the last failed double date, Casey had had a string of seemingly successful first dates that always wound up leading to more first dates.
“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Or this guy. You haven’t even told me his name.” Not that I was one to give relationship advice. Henry had recently moved to Harmony, New Hampshire to teach at the local community college, and now that I was home more often, we had a chance to spend a lot more time together. Henry was content to take things slowly, which was a total match for me, and somehow, Casey had labeled us #relationshipgoals.
It wasn’t a bad place to be.
“His name is Josh. He works at the naval base, and he came into the shelter to adopt some guinea pigs when you were on your last case.” Her face lit up as she talked about him. “He’s friends with some of the guys who volunteer at the shelter, and you know me, I have a soft spot for the people who adopt the less popular pets. Then I saw him at school. I asked him how the littles were doing, and we’ve been chatting ever since.”
“I love that all my employees are finding love at Helping Paws. Are you ready to head out?” We were supposed to meet the guys in fifteen minutes. It was my turn to pat Persephone. “We shouldn’t be long.”
“Am I coming too?” she asked.
We’d taken a break from our sleuthing cases to concentrate on shelter work, but Persephone was used to going everywhere with me. People around town had gotten used to seeing Spy Kitty out and about. Unless I was trying to bust a bad guy, I drew the line at bringing my cat to a bar.
“Not tonight, but how about I bring a treat back for you?”
“Okay.” Her disappointment tugged hard on my heartstrings.
“I think Persephone misses going on the road,” I said once we got into the car.
“What about you? Do you miss it?” Casey asked.
“I wish there was a way to solve crimes and work at the shelter at the same time.” I’d been thinking a lot about how to have work/work balance lately.
“But we’ve been able to help so many more animals since you started taking cases. People ask all the time what your next case will be.”
“I always tell them crime doesn’t happen during business hours.” We pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. Henry was standing out front, talking to a guy I’d never seen before. “Is that Josh?”
“Yeah.” Casey sighed. “Looks like they’ve hit it off.”
“That’s not a bad thing. If things work out, we’ll all be spending a lot of time together.”
I got out of the car, enjoying the butterflies that came to life in my belly when Henry smiled at me. I’d been worried that his moving to Harmony would change our relationship, but so far, so good.
He gave me a hug when I approached.
“I see you’ve met Josh.”
“Believe it or not, Josh is one of my students.”
“You are?” Casey’s eyes widened, and she shifted her gaze to me. We’d worked together long enough that she didn’t have to say what she was thinking out loud. I could hear it loud and clear, and it translated roughly to oh no.
“Yeah, I’m taking a few classes this semester, and art history is one of my electives. Didn’t think I’d like it much, but this guy is making it interesting.” Josh glanced at Henry, but he could hardly take his eyes off Casey.
I was so excited for her. Not only did she want to find a great guy, she deserved one.
“Would our plans tonight be considered a conflict of interest?” I asked. “I don’t want to put your new job in jeopardy.”
Henry shrugged. “It’s not ideal, but none of the grading in that class is subjective.”
“I wouldn’t want a grade I didn’t earn,” Josh said.
“Harmony’s so small, I see my teachers all the time,” Casey added. “It’s no big deal.”
“But you don’t go out for a beer with them.”
“It’s trivia night, so it’s educational.” Henry reached for my hand and squeezed it as we walked into the lounge. If he wasn’t worried, I had no reason to be, either.
Most of the tables already had their teams at them. There were lots of familiar faces in the room. A lady came over to show me pictures of Sydney, a long-haired Siamese she’d adopted over a year ago.
My heart swelled looking at them. The cat had taken over the home, and the family was in love with her.
No surprise Henry was amazing at trivia night, but Josh had emerged as a secret weapon. Better yet, he knew things that Henry didn’t.
“You’re good, man,” Henry said. “Some of those questions had me stumped. We’ll have to do this again. Next wee—after the semester ends.”
Casey nudged me under the table.
“Here we go,” she said only loudly enough for me to hear.
“He’s into you.” I wasn’t as smooth as my friend and my cheeks burned when Josh caught me talking about him.
“I am.” His smile was all for Casey. “Maybe next time we’ll be a trivia team of two.”
I turned to Henry, who was giving me one of those goosebump-inducing smiles of his own. “Maybe we should leave these two to finish their date on their own.”
“We could ask for our own table,” he suggested.
Casey gasped, and grasped my arm. “Addie, do you know about this?”
She pointed at the TV, where a very familiar scene played out from my favorite cooking show, Parking Lot Potluck. At first, I thought the restaurant just had the good sense to play it between trivia rounds, but then I realized this was a news channel, and the headline read host and judge poisoned on the set of Parking Lot Potluck.
I almost choked on my virgin pina colada. The DJ was playing nineties hip hop at maximum volume, so we couldn’t hear the TV. The captioning was having a hard time keeping up with the live feed, but it became clear that something very bad had happened.
Host Sig Simpson had died as a result of the poisoning during the taping of a show on location in Seattle.
No! The captioning had to be wrong. Not about the Seattle part. The show traveled all over the country, and celebrity judges would bring regional food and traditional dishes that the contestants used to deconstruct and create a unique meal.
About the dead part. But as his picture flashed on the screen with his birth year and this year, my heart twinged. Even in this horrible moment, I had to admit he wasn’t my favorite. He’d only joined the show last season, and things hadn’t been the same with him. He was an old school cooking show chef, and even though things had changed since his day in the spotlight, he hadn’t. I’d always suspected the judges didn’t like him, either.
But that didn’t mean I wanted him dead. On his own show, maybe, but definitely not dead.
Goosebumps blossomed on my forearms at the thought that someone was murdered on the set of Parking Lot Potluck.
Diana Diamond, my favorite judge, had also fallen very ill. But from what I could gather from the captioning, she was still alive. They only showed a picture of her behind the judging desk, while they had short interviews with George Adamos and Maxim Moreau, two of the regular judges of the show.
“Some of that food’s gotta be pretty bad. Are they sure it isn’t just food poisoning?” Josh asked. I shot him a look that made him understand this was no joking matter.
“Addie takes Parking Lot Potluck very seriously. Like, if it was on tonight, she wouldn’t have come out with us. Whatever happened, it’s serious enough for this guy.” Casey pointed to the officer on the screen.
“Potluck is my happy place. And it could’ve been food poisoning. The contestants only have twenty minutes to make the dishes. Sometimes mistakes happen. But could food poisoning kill someone?” Since I started my semi-pro sleuthing business, I didn’t have a lot of time for the Parking Lot Potluck online forums anymore. But I’d read many interviews with the regular judges. Once I even sent in a question once asking about how they objectively judged dishes that might not be their favorite, but I wasn’t ready to admit to that level of fandom in this casual setting.
Maxim had answered my question, and he’d added an aside about food poisoning.
“Wouldn’t they all get sick if it was food poisoning? They eat the same dishes,” Henry pointed out.
“If there was poison in the food, wouldn’t it have been in all the food?” Josh added.
I was about to ask the waitress if she could turn up the volume when she dropped off our basket of fried pickles, but the news had already moved onto the next story. Instead, I picked up my phone to do a little online investigation, but I was quickly interrupted by an incoming call.
“It’s Margaret,” I said. She was Persephone’s former owner, and she’d also become my de facto booking agent when someone needed my cat to solve a case for them.
“Oh, cool, you were just saying Persephone was ready for a case,” Casey said.
“Hey, Margaret.”
“Am I catching you at a good time?”
“Of course.” I rose from the table and headed outside so I’d be able to hear her over the music. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well. I was hoping to see you soon. I’m sure Henry’s told you he’s been helping me with a new Bournaise exhibit.”
“He did.” I beamed with pride at the thought of it. Henry had helped her group paintings together along with some excerpts from Bellamy Bournaise’s journal. Maybe she wanted to plan a surprise for Henry. “Is there a date for the opening?”
“There is, but you might miss it if you’re interested in the case that came in for you,” she said. “Would you be interested in heading to Seattle and figuring out who poisoned two people on a cooking show?”