Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94686 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Your girlfriends are coming to the house. You need me.” Benny bit into the biscuit and groaned. “Jesus, that woman can cook. You know how hard it is to prepare a perfect biscuit from scratch? There’s a loving process to it. The cook picks the ingredients like an artist chooses what color to represent their muse. Ada is heavy on fresh herbs.”
As in true Jazz fashion, she strolled over and grabbed her own biscuit.
Just couldn’t resist, huh?
If someone asked Jazz where she got her love of food from, she would claim it was Gabe who did it. I knew better. Benny did. The man had spent hours talking about food when we were kids. Back when we were seven or maybe even six, he’d pick us up every Sunday and cart us off to a new eatery. Viv and I would always get in trouble as we played around at the table, inciting duels with our silverware. Jazz always sat next to Benny watching him sample each dish and lecture on its qualities. I never got their passion. I loved a good plate like anyone, but to talk about it for hours was ridiculous.
Jazz chomped into one and groaned too. “This is good. Really moist.”
“You won’t find a better biscuit in the northern hemisphere,” Benny said.
“Well, Batana’s on West Boulevard and North has some good ones.” Jazz munched some more.
“Yeah, but they add cheese. That’s a whole other animal.”
Jazz nodded in agreement. “That’s fair.”
Benny took another. “But many would say that the butter—”
“No one cares about your commentary on biscuit preparation.” Chase took off his suit jacket as if he were about to fight. “When did you have my house bugged? I never told you that they were coming to the house, but here you are, already knowing the info.”
Benny paused from eating his second biscuit and spit out words along with crumbs. “When I bugged this house, you were shitting in your diaper, little boy. Be quiet and listen.” He swallowed. “Now where was I. . .butter. Yes, butter. You can’t just use any butter. It has to be salted and fresh.”
Done with her biscuit, Jazz’s shoulders relaxed as she put her hands into her pockets. Benny always had that effect on her. When she flew off the handle in erratic ways, just his presence could bring her down from the edge.
“Some people just cut up large squares of butter and dump it all in the bowl.” He wagged his fingers. “Tsk. Tsk. It leaves large clumps. Not effective in getting all of that rich fat into the batter evenly. I mean one can argue that chomping down on a piece that has a big hunk of butter would be a great prize, but usually the biscuits end up being too dry. You need butter to blend with the whole batter. They’re skimping. Not Ada. I’ve watched her make these.” He stared at the last bite before tossing it into his mouth. “She uses a pastry cutter to create those nice pea-shaped pieces. Only the really good cooks do, you know. Pastry cutter. Have you ever seen one?”
“No.” Chase frowned.
“Oh. It’s this thing that you have to clamp your fingers around and hold real steady like this.” Benny punched the air and held his fist out for all to see. I might have jumped a little in my chair, probably Chase too. “The little blades are beautiful. Most aren’t that sharp, but I know people who can make a pastry cutter with the sharpest blades and a nice leather handle, so as to not cause calluses during the cutting, of course.”
Sharper blades? Leather handle? Why do I get the feeling we’re no longer discussing baking?
“Ahh. The things that one could do with a really good pastry cutter.” Benny looked up at the ceiling, staring in thought for a few seconds. “Anyway, Ada’s biscuits are moist and so soft that they evaporate as soon as they meet my tongue.”
“Why are we talking about biscuits?” Chase growled.
“Because sometimes you need to know what tool to use and which one to keep in the drawer.” He slid back Viv’s now empty chair, sat in it, and crossed his legs. “Take these three sad little women.” He drew an invisible cross in the air. “May they soon rest in peace.”
I shifted in my chair. Things thickened to heavy too soon when Benny stepped on the scene. Again that scent of blood radiated around him.
“These women.” Benny held up three fingers. “They’re not your ex-girlfriends to me. No. They’re walking corpses that just haven’t gotten it in their ditzy little heads that they’re already dead. Did they know that Jasmine was my daughter?”
Chase refused to answer.
“Dawn knew. I’ve seen her talk about it on video,” I said.
“Well, Dawn damn sure knew better. Here I am.” He tapped his own chest. “I’m the best tool you have in the drawer, but you keep it inside as you stumble around, using rusted utensils.” He searched the table like he was looking for more food. “What are we having for breakfast?”