Curses, Boiled Again! Page 2

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  A large section of the green had been roped off around the stage for the Best Lobster Roll judging. Lorel and I flashed our badges again and took seats three rows back from the front row, which was reserved for the contestants. My seat was on the aisle near the church building.

  The faultless blue sky promised good weather. A YUM-TV banner rippled across the stage behind a table with four seats. Huge screens flanked the stage. Red-white-and-blue bunting hung, well, everywhere. Cameras on a platform at the back of the crowd stood ready to catch the action.

  Patriotic music wafted in the air as a group from Mystic Bay High School played Sousa marches from the bandstand.

  “Gorgeous day,” Lorel said, tilting her chin and closing her eyes.

  I dug in my bag for sunscreen and applied it to my nose.

  “Fingers crossed for Aunt Gully.” Lorel raised her crossed fingers.

  “Fingers crossed.” I looped my pinkie finger around hers, just as we did when we were little girls. “Let’s hope she doesn’t sing during the judging.”

  A guy from the YUM Network warmed up the crowd, but I tuned him out. All I could think of was Aunt Gully’s lobster roll. It was absolutely delicious, but honestly, so plain. Lorel said that it was the essence of lobster roll, that we should market it as classic, pure food, but my stomach churned again. Maybe it wasn’t special enough.

  Excitement rippled through the crowd. After a squawk of feedback, an announcer’s voice boomed from the PA system. “And now, the star of YUM-TV’s Leftovers, Cameron Kim!”

  A guy in skinny jeans, a plaid shirt, and black Converse sneakers bounded up the steps to the stage. The crowd erupted in applause. Cell phone cameras were raised. He brushed his floppy black hair out of his eyes, grinned, and waved.

  “Hello, Mystic Bay!” Cameron Kim bounced as he talked about how happy he was to be in such a beautiful and historic New England town, but my attention turned to the side door of the church. Volunteers held it open while the chefs exited.

  I’d researched Aunt Gully’s competition. At the front of the line, Paul Pond ambled with his hands thrust in the pockets of his denim overalls. He owned Pond’s, an old-time shack on a tiny island in Maine. With his snowy white hair and beard, he looked like the quintessential Maine sea captain.

  Paul Pond was followed by a stocky man in a yellow polo shirt with a navy sweater knotted over his shoulders—preppy Chick Costa of Chick’s World Famous Lobsters in Chatham, Massachusetts. Deeply tanned with sun-bleached hair, Chick Costa looked like he’d just stepped off a yacht.

  Behind Chick walked Ernie and Megan Moss of Kahuna’s, just a half-mile down Pearl Street from the Lazy Mermaid. Ernie and Megan sported loud orange Hawaiian shirts, chinos, and deck shoes. Ernie beamed, his ruddy face shining, but Megan huddled close to his side, her chin tipped down, her dishwater-blond hair hanging in her face. Everyone else wore their Mystic Bay Food Festival badge on a lanyard, but Ernie and Megan hung theirs from plastic leis.

  “Hardly New England,” Lorel sniffed.

  The church door banged shut. No sign of Aunt Gully. “Where’s Aunt Gully?” I shot to my feet as the other contestants walked toward the stage. “I’ll go check on her.”

  By the time Lorel rose to her feet, I’d run to the side door of the church, doing my best to ignore the twinge in my ankle. I slid through the mob of volunteers who held their cameras high to film Cameron Kim and stepped inside the building.

  “Aunt Gully?” The door banged shut behind me. The hallway was dim and the silence sudden after the excitement at the festival stage. “Aunt Gully?”

  For a moment all I heard was my own panting breath.

  “Here I am!” At the far end of the hall, Aunt Gully turned the corner, her sneakers squeaking along the linoleum floor. “Oh, Allie, I forgot my apron again!” She hurried toward me, looping the fluorescent-pink apron, also with strategically placed clamshells, over her head. “I hope they don’t start the party without me!”

  “You nut.” I should have stayed with her. “Turn around.”

  I tied the strings of her apron and Aunt Gully sang an old nursery rhyme as we went out. “‘Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she shall have music wherever she goes!’”

  “No time for singing, Aunt Gully!”

  The door banged shut behind us. Aunt Gully scurried to join the line of contestants, laughing and waving. My hands were sweating as I sank back into my seat by Lorel.

  “It’s time to meet our contestants,” Cameron announced from the stage. “Paul Pond! Of Pond’s in the great state of Maine!”

  When he heard his name, Paul Pond jogged up the stairs, ran to center stage and did a little Rocky dance, flexing and raising his sinewy arms over his head. Laughter bubbled through the audience. Cameron chuckled and shook Paul’s hand.

  “Next, Chick Costa of Chick’s World Famous Lobsters in Chatham, Massachusetts!”

  As he joined Paul and Cameron, Chick Costa whooped and pointed at his supporters, a row of people also clad in yellow polo shirts.

  “Megan and Ernie Moss from Kahuna’s, right here in Mystic Bay!”

  “Godlobster! Godlobster!” A Godlobster chant started behind us. I turned and saw two rows of people in Hawaiian shirts and leis. I forced myself to smile and wave.

  Ernie and Megan Moss joined the group onstage. Chick Costa shook hands with Paul Pond and Ernie Moss. Chick and Megan did an awkward back and forth as he went for a hug and she put out her hand for a shake. Everyone laughed. Megan, her face bright pink, huddled close to Ernie’s side.

  “And the new kid on the block, also from right here in Mystic Bay, Gully Fontana of the Lazy Mermaid Lobster Shack!”

  My pent-up energy shot me to my feet. I twirled my scarf over my head. “Whoo-hoo!”

  Lorel pulled me back to my seat. The applause for Aunt Gully was loud and long. Locals who had eaten her food were showing their support. My heart warmed.

  Once onstage, Aunt Gully waved and blew kisses to the crowd. Her hot-pink sneakers matched her fluorescent Lazy Mermaid apron and pink jeans. Lorel had tried to get Aunt Gully to try a new hairstyle, but Aunt Gully had waved her off and kept her silver hair in the same bob she’s had forever.

  The contestants trooped back down the stairs and took their seats in the front row. Ernie and Megan Moss sat closest to the aisle. I couldn’t see Aunt Gully over all the people sitting in front of us.

  “And now our panel of judges!” Cameron said. “Longtime mayor of Mystic Bay! The Mayor of Good Eats, Keats Packer!”

  Keats Packer ambled across the stage, shook Cameron’s hand, and waved to the crowd. Mayor Packer took the smattering of boos in stride as he sat at the far end of the judges’ table.

  “Next, beloved actress on Broadway and in Hollywood, just off a guest starring role on CSI, starring here at Broadway by the Bay in Mame. Let’s welcome singer, dancer, and actress triple-threat Contessa Wells!”

  A petite woman with bright red lips and glossy black hair cut in Cleopatra bangs climbed the steps on the arm of a teen escort. She thanked him with a squeeze of the hand and waved to the crowd, her silky jade-green dress fluttering in the light breeze.

  Lorel leaned to me. “Remember ringing the doorbell at Contessa’s house when we were kids?”

  “How could I forget?” Lorel had dared me and my friends to trick-or-treat at the Wells House. It was an old sea captain’s house up on Spyglass Hill in Rabb’s Point that had sat empty for years. Folks said it was haunted by a sea captain’s wife who still waited for her husband’s return, two hundred years too late. No ghost had answered the door but Lorel and her friends had water-ballooned me and my terrified friends.

  “She looks great for her age,” Lorel said. “She’s what, in her seventies?”

  “She played a dead body on CSI last week,” I whispered.

  Contessa strode across the stage oozing energy the way Broadway performers do, broadly gesturing to the crowd and greeting Cameron with exaggerated pl
easure. A flowery scarf flowed behind her trim figure. Unlike virtually everyone else at the food fest, Contessa didn’t wear a security badge. A good choice, I thought. It would’ve ruined the look of her outfit.

  “I never met a Contessa before.” Cameron laughed. Contessa gave him her hand with a flourish and a jokey curtsy. Cameron kissed her hand. The crowd burst into applause. Contessa took her seat at the table as Keats Packer gallantly held her chair.

  “She’s appeared at Broadway by the Bay at the Jake several times,” I whispered. “The Jake” was what locals called Mystic Bay’s Jacob’s Ladder theater complex, which hosted Broadway by the Bay. “Terrible reputation. Total diva.”

  Cameron waved the last judges up the steps. “Last but not least, my YUM Network buddies, stars of Foodies on the Fly, Rio and Rick Lopez!”

  The audience didn’t need the producer’s GET LOUD signs. Applause rang out across the green. A slender man and even more slender woman in ripped skinny jeans sauntered onstage and wrapped Cameron in bear hugs.

  Rio and Rick waved to the crowd, their silver concha belts gleaming in the sun, his black hair spiked and gelled, hers flowing in the wind. Rio wore an intricately embroidered denim jacket and gleaming red cowboy boots. Rick wore a tight black T-shirt that showed off a sleeve of tattoos.

  Their show was one of the top ranked on the YUM network. They cruised the country in a vintage Airstream motor home, stopping at local restaurants to showcase regional cuisines. I hoped they’d appreciate Aunt Gully’s traditional approach.

  “Are you ready for a Lobster Roll Rumble?” Cameron shouted. “Get loud, Mystic Bay!”

  I looked around at the crowd, filled with many locals who were typical New Englanders. There were a few wolf whistles from Chick Costa’s group, and the rowdy Godlobster people hooted, but most of these people were not getting loud. They applauded politely, shaded their eyes with their programs, and waited for the contest to begin.

  “All right!” The tepid applause didn’t affect Cameron’s boyish energy. “We’re doing blind taste testings. Applause is okay. Show the love for your favorites, but remember. This contest will be decided by taste alone.”

  The Godlobster crew grumbled.

  Cameron beamed at the camera. “Are you ready, judges?”

  The judges applauded with vigor. Keats Packer tucked his napkin into his collar.

  “First up, we have a lobster roll with a mayonnaise-based lobster salad. The lobster is mixed with a combination of over twenty vegetables, herbs, and secret ingredients!”

  The audience oohed when Cameron said “secret ingredients.”

  “Doesn’t that look fantastic?” Cameron pointed to large screens on either side of the stage.

  The Godlobster flashed onscreen. The audience oohed again. Someone in the crowd blared the theme from The Godfather from a megaphone.

  My stomach twisted. Lorel shot me a worried look.

  Like everyone else in Mystic Bay, I’d enjoyed one of Ernie and Megan Moss’s giant lobster rolls. Well, more than one. The chopped vegetables and herbs added color that Aunt Gully’s lobster roll lacked. Instead of a traditional hot dog roll, the Godlobster was served on an oversized brioche bun.

  I love brioche.

  I squirmed in my seat.

  Lorel twisted her hands.

  Six volunteers marched up the stairs to the stage. One carried a large tray covered with a gleaming silver cloche. With a flourish, one volunteer lifted the cloche. Four helpers each took a plate and set the plates before the judges in unison.

  “Oh, yeah!” Cameron shouted. “Thank you, volunteers from Mystic Bay High School!”

  The teen volunteers shuffled offstage.

  “Oooh, looks good!” Rio exclaimed. “Beautiful dish.”

  “Great color,” Rick agreed. “You can see the flavor.”

  The judges bit into the overflowing Godlobster. Tiny Contessa Wells laughed as lobster salad fell from the bun onto her plate. She scooped it up with a fork and said “Divine!” before popping it into her mouth.

  Several people sitting near me leaned forward, their folding chairs creaking in the expectant silence while the judges chewed.

  Was it my imagination? Did I see a tiny frown flicker across Contessa Wells’s face?

  Rio and Rick glanced at each other then took another bite, as if they weren’t sure about the dish and were giving it another chance. Keats Packer wolfed down several bites and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He burped, setting off a wave of laughter.

  The camera captured a close-up of Contessa Wells. She’d taken a large bite and now struggled to chew it. She swallowed hard and reached for her water glass.

  “Judges?” Cameron prompted. “You first, Rio.”

  “An interesting preparation.” She took a sip of water. “A bit, er, tangy?”

  “Ha!” Rick folded his arms. The audience held its breath. Rick was known for his blunt culinary assessments.

  “The tangy went off the rails into bitterness. Actually, quite a lot of bitterness.” He shook his head and reached for his judging sheet. “The chef took some chances on this one. Didn’t pull it off. Hey, that’s what happens in the kitchen sometimes, right? Go big or go home. Sorry, this one’s going home.”

  The audience groaned.

  Mayor Packer leaned into his microphone. “I liked it,” he said.

  “You’ll eat anything,” someone shouted from the back of the crowd. Laughter rolled toward the stage.

  Contessa leaned toward her microphone. “The brioche was out of this world.” The audience applauded.

  Lorel and I shared a look. Contessa hadn’t said anything about the lobster salad.

  I couldn’t see Ernie’s face, but the back of his neck reddened. Megan shook her head and he wrapped his arm around her. They must be devastated.

  Volunteers cleared the dishes while the judges filled in their judging sheets.

  “And the Mystic Bay High School band will provide a musical interlude while the judges fill in their scorecards and we get the next delicious lobster roll to the stage!” Cameron said.

  Music filled the air as Rio and Rick conferred, their heads close together. Contessa wrote on her scorecard, then rubbed the side of her face. Mayor Packer loosened his tie and leaned away from the table as the band brought to a close “The Washington Post March.”

  “And next up, we have a lobster roll done in a very traditional preparation, what I believe is called the Connecticut style,” Cameron said.

  Aunt Gully’s lobster roll flashed onscreen, the meat piled high, a little cup of her secret-recipe lobster sauce perched next to the golden-brown toasted hot dog roll. “Now I understand that the judges are to pour some of that secret-recipe lobster sauce onto the lobster meat, right?” Cameron read from the teleprompter. The audience cheered and hooted.

  “That’s some lobster overload!” Cameron shouted.

  Contessa Wells reached for her water glass.

  Rio whispered in Rick’s ear.

  The volunteers carried a covered tray onto the stage. Once again they flourished the silver cloche, set Aunt Gully’s lobster rolls before the judges and exited stage left.

  Keats Packer cupped his hand over his mouth and staggered off the stage toward a row of Porta Pottis.

  “Um, Mayor?” Cameron said.

  Rick’s microphone captured a groan and a muttered expletive.

  Then Contessa Wells stood, clutched her stomach, and doubled over on top of Aunt Gully’s lobster roll.

  Chapter 3

  The audience gasped, an intake of breath followed by a few seconds of silence that seemed to suspend time.

  Rick pushed away from the table and darted to Contessa’s side. He caught her limp form just as she slid from the table to the floor.

  Rio struggled to stand, then fell to her knees, panting. Cameron rushed to her side and put his arm around her. “Help! Help up here, help up here!” Cameron looked about wildly. “What’s going on?”

  YUM Network staff
rushed toward the stage. I, too, rushed forward. I had to see if Aunt Gully was okay.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she cried. “Those poor things! Keats Packer’s ill, too. Someone had better go check on him.”

  Lorel squeezed through the crowd that now milled helplessly, waiting for someone to Do Something. A siren wailed in the distance. Discordant notes floated over the crowd as the musicians in the bandstand tried to see what was happening on the festival stage.

  A loud thud set off shrieks from the audience. Rick Lopez had fallen, writhing and groaning, next to Rio. Cameron Kim, still cradling Rio, reached out to him.

  Contessa Wells lay on her back in a little heap of green fabric, alone behind the judging table.

  “I’ve got to help.” I started toward the stage, but Aunt Gully grabbed my hand.

  “Look, Hayden’s on his way. He’s an EMT,” she said.

  Hayden Yardley, who’d been my classmate at Mystic Bay High School, vaulted onto the stage and ran to Rio’s side.

  The crowd pushed toward the exits. Spectators blocked the stairs, so two volunteers boosted May Strange, Mystic Bay’s pediatrician, onto the stage. Dr. Strange struggled to her feet, then hurried to help Rick.

  But before I knew what I was doing, I’d run forward and pulled myself up onto the stage. I rushed to Contessa, unwinding my scarf as I went.

  High school first-aid class flashed into my mind. It’s dangerous for an unconscious person to be on their back in case they vomited and choked. I knelt beside Contessa. Using my scarf to cushion her head, I raised her shoulder and rolled her to her side. Her makeup stood out on her pale skin, garish and clownlike. Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Miss Wells?” She didn’t answer. I brushed aside her dark hair and scarf so I could see her face. Whitish foam from the side of her slack mouth dripped onto the stage floor. A jolt of horror made me catch my breath.

  “Let me.” Hayden Yardley materialized at my side. Gently, he took Contessa’s shoulder and pressed his fingers to her neck. “She’s got a pulse.”

  He glanced at me, concern in his deep brown eyes. “You okay, Allie? You’re pretty pale.”