Free Pickled (An Alex Harris Mystery) by Elaine Macko Page A

treat you like normal if you just let me give you a little gift I picked up last night,” my sister continued.
    I waited while she went to her office and then handed me a bag from Target. “This is nice,” I said, pulling out one of those rubber things you use to open jars.
    “It’s for your M&M’s jar. Just in case you’re having a bad day. You’ll still need to open it.”
    I nodded. “Very thoughtful. And you’re right, getting into the candy jar is very important.”
    We took our mugs and went to my office and I gave Sam the rosary beads for Kendall.
    “Thank you. She’ll love them. Seymour does great work. So how’s the investigation going?”
    “Well, John told me Humphrey had extensive plastic surgery.”
    “Really? Interesting. What kind? Botox? Eye lift? Nose job?”
    “No, more like reconstructive surgery. Major stuff,” I said.
    “Maybe he threatened to sue the plastic surgeon so the doc killed him. Any of the players a surgeon?” my sister asked.
    “Not that I know of. And besides, whatever he had done, it was a long time ago.”
    “So why is it important?”
    “It’s probably not. But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious and you can bet I’ll ask the widow about it. I did find out Mrs. Bryson was having her husband followed, he found out and turned the tables having the private detective do some investigating for him on a few women from the pickleball team.”
    “Okay, again, interesting, but how does that help?” my sister asked.
    “Maybe the PI did a double cross of his own somehow by telling Mrs. Bryson that Humphrey was on to her. Or maybe he went to the other women Humphrey was spying on, told them what Humphrey was up to and they in turn told their husbands, who, by the way just happened to be at the supper. You know, I like it. I can see Lester Holt or Sid Dupre being so revolted by what Humphrey did to their wives down at the beach that they felt a need to shove a pickle down his throat.” I sat back looking pleased with my theory and decided to reward myself with some M&M’s.
    “Or,” my sister said, sounding more interested than she was a minute ago, “the PI finds out even more dirt on Humphrey and blackmails him. Then he showed up at the Saturday supper to pick up a payment, but Humphrey refused to fork over any more money, they got into a fight and pickle down the throat.”
    “I suppose, but no one mentioned seeing Terry Roder at the supper and he used to play pickleball, so people would recognize him. And Meme and I didn’t see him come in.”
    Sam shrugged. “It’s just a theory. Maybe there’s another door and he snuck in.”
    “I gotta tell ya, those were some powerful pickles,” I said, making a puckering face. “Good, but deadly. Mrs. Kaufman, she’s the lady from the deli, used her special recipe, which includes dried hot pepper. Whoever did it really got their revenge using one of those pickles.”
    “That had to hurt,” my sister winced. “Poor guy.”
    “Yeah, poor lying, cheating, bullying bastard.”

 
     
     
Chapter 19
     
     
    Sophie Bryson was just coming back from a walk on the beach when I drove up. If I was ever lucky enough to have a house on the ocean, I like to think I would take advantage of it and go for long walks every day. I couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of doing so.
    “Good morning, Alex,” she called to me as she made her way over a mound of snow pushed along the driveway. “Come on in. Do you like hot chocolate?”
    I followed Sophie into the house thinking for a woman her age and so frail looking, she was obviously very strong and kept in good shape. But was she strong enough to hold her husband down? She had several inches on the man, but he had had quite a few pounds on her. Of course, she could have had some help.
    “A cup of hot chocolate sounds wonderful.” I followed her into the kitchen where we took off out coats and draped them over a chair by the table.
    Sophie pulled out a large bar of dark