Free Murder with Macaroni and Cheese by A.L. Herbert

“Such paltry items. Meanwhile I’m donating an antique desk worth a couple thousand dollars.”
    â€œNot everyone is as successful as you,” Alvetta says. “And the reunion is still a week away. I’m sure more donations will come in.”
    Alvetta is about to continue reassuring Raynell when Christy’s phone rings.
    â€œRaynell Rollins Real Estate. This is Christy. How may I help you?” Christy is silent for a moment before she nicely asks the caller to hold. “Raynell, it’s Gregory. Confirming you are meeting him to show properties at two.”
    â€œYes. Tell him I’ll meet him at the Brandywine location.”
    As Christy passes on Raynell’s words to the gentleman on the phone, I realize I haven’t once heard her use the word “please” or phrase anything as a question when she speaks to Christy. Everything she says to the poor girl is simply a command.
    â€œLike I was saying,” Alvetta interjects when Christy wraps up the call. “Michael and I will make some donations, and while I doubt we’ll get anything as valuable as the desk you contributed, as some of our former classmates who live outside the area arrive for the event, I’m sure they’ll check in and make some donations.”
    â€œI hope so. I’ll have Christy make some more calls this week . . . shake a few trees,” Raynell says, her eyes suddenly pointed in my direction. “Speaking of the desk. I was going to hire someone to take it to the hotel to display at the reunion, but it’s not that large and, surely, you must have a van or a truck or something for that little lunch counter of yours . . . no? Would you mind picking it up on Saturday and taking it over to the hotel?”
    â€œUm . . .” I’m not sure what to say. She already has Christy and Alvetta acting as her lackeys. I’m really not eager to add my name to the list, but it is for charity and, honestly, I’m a little curious to see Raynell’s house. “I guess so. I’m sure we’ll be running back and forth to the hotel a few times on Saturday anyway to get the catering set up.”
    â€œGreat. Christy, write the address down for Halia.”
    As Christy writes Raynell’s address down on a piece of paper, the young man who approached the table earlier returns with two others, and the three of them, all holding trays, begin laying down plates. While I watch people who were in line at the counter when we first stepped inside the cafeteria continue to wait for their turn at the serving station we enjoy table service—the perks of being guests of the First Lady I suppose. Dishes loaded with eggs, bacon (pork and turkey), sausage, English muffins, pancakes, and oatmeal land in front of us. They’re accompanied by containers of whipped butter, syrup, and a selection of jellies.
    We enjoy our breakfast and begin discussing the menu for the reunion. I present Raynell and Alvetta with a list of options for appetizers to be passed around during the cocktail hour, main and side dishes for the buffet, and desserts. I also suggest that I whip up a few pitchers of our house cocktail to be served at the cash bars.
    Generally this approach works well when planning a menu for catered events—customers review the options, make a few selections, and we wrap things up. Such is not the case with Raynell Rollins, though. Alvetta is mostly agreeable to my suggestions, but Raynell doesn’t like any of the appetizer recommendations. She wants to know if I can arrange for chilled shrimp cocktails, but when I inform her of the cost of quality fresh shrimp and the effect it will have on my catering price, she lets it go. She’s decided she doesn’t want fried chicken on the buffet as “fried chicken has no business at a formal event.” But apparently macaroni and cheese does have every business at a formal event because she insists that it be part of