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That Wasn't Chicken: Until The Fat Ladies Sing, #4
That Wasn't Chicken: Until The Fat Ladies Sing, #4
That Wasn't Chicken: Until The Fat Ladies Sing, #4
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That Wasn't Chicken: Until The Fat Ladies Sing, #4

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Murder, mystery meat and morning sickness! Hudson and Lovita are expecting and she’s having trouble keeping food down for the first time in her life. Her best friend, Sue Jan is busy juggling mommy-hood. And the Crown of Glory Beauty Salon and Boutique is busier than a one-toothed man in a corn-on-the-cob-eating contest. Things are great until a handsome law intern disappears after an argument with their top stylist’s once-upon-a-time wayward son. So Lovita and Sue Jan put down their forks and pick up the trail to solve the mystery before Jolene’s son has to trade in his chef’s uniform for prison stripes. But the super-sized sleuths soon discover something very unusual about a popular new barbecue restaurant in town. Does everything taste like chicken, or did they risk it eating brisket?

LanguageEnglish
Release dateAug 1, 2017
ISBN9781386925200
That Wasn't Chicken: Until The Fat Ladies Sing, #4

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    Book preview

    That Wasn't Chicken - Linda Kozar

    THAT WASN’T CHICKEN

    LINDA P. KOZAR

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    Kozy Kozar Books

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    Murder, mystery-meat and morning sickness—Hudson and Lovita are expecting, and for the first time in her life she’s having trouble keeping food down. Lovita’s best friend, Sue Jan is busy juggling mommy-hood with work. And the Crown of Glory Beauty Salon and Boutique is busier than a one-toothed man in a corn-on-the-cob-eating contest. Things are great in the little town of Wachita too—that is until a handsome law intern disappears after an argument with their top stylist’s once-upon-a-time wayward son. So Lovita and Sue Jan put down their forks and curling irons and pick up the trail to solve the mystery before Jolene’s son has to trade in his chef’s uniform for prison stripes.

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    Copyright © 2012, 2015, 2016 Linda Kozar

    www.lindakozar.com

    Published by Linda Kozar,

    This is entirely a work of fiction. All people, places and events contained in this novel have been completely fabricated by the author. Any similarities to real people, places and events are completely coincidental.

    All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any manner or used in any way without advanced written permission by the author.

    Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

    Edited by Janetta Fudge Messmer; Rusty Moose Ink

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    TABLE OF CONTENTS

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    TITLE PAGE

    COPYRIGHT PAGE

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    BOOKS BY LINDA P. KOZAR

    DEDICATION

    CHAPTER ONE: Praise the Lord and Pass the Potatoes

    CHAPTER TWO: Food Fight

    CHAPTER THREE: The Smell of Excess

    CHAPTER FOUR: Mystery Meat

    CHAPTER FIVE: Stirring the Wok

    CHAPTER SIX: Taken for Granted

    CHAPTER SEVEN: Where There’s Mesquite Smoke, There’s Fire

    CHAPTER EIGHT: The Other White Meat

    CHAPTER NINE: Should I Risk It Eating Brisket?

    CHAPTER TEN: A Spit’s Worth of Glitter

    CHAPTER ELEVEN: Sweeney Todd’s Second Cousin, Once Removed

    CHAPTER TWELVE: Food for Thought

    CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?

    CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Let the Fur Fly

    CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Bob’s Your Uncle!

    CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Mix and Match Meatloaf

    CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Deep in the South Where Sushi is Still Called Bait

    CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Rat Race

    CHAPTER NINETEEN: Guinea Pigs in a Blanket

    CHAPTER TWENTY: Cuy-ootie Patooties

    A NOTE FROM SUE JAN

    Hateful Aunt Hattie’s Recipe for Liver Dumplings

    A NOTE FROM LOVITA

    The Scripture Cake

    ENJOY THE ENTIRE UNTIL THE FAT LADIES SING COZY MYSTERY SERIES

    ABOUT THE AUTHOR

    FIND LINDA ONLINE

    BOOKS BY LINDA P. KOZAR

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    UNTIL THE FAT LADIES SING MYSTERIES

    Misfortune Cookies–Book One

    A Tisket, A Casket—Book Two

    Dead As A Doornail—Book Three

    That Wasn’t Chicken—Book Five

    Felony Fruitcake—Book Four

    Weighty Matters—Book Six

    Custard’s Last Stand—Book Seven

    DEDICATION

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    To all my friends in the Babes With A Beatitude bible study who pray with me over each new book project, to all my readers who can’t get enough of Sue Jan and Lovita, and to the Lord—Who started me on this writing journey. You are truly the Author and Finisher of my faith.

    CHAPTER ONE

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    Praise the Lord and Pass the Potatoes

    Spinning. The room twirled in circles, like an out of control merry-go-round. The nausea didn’t take long to kick in after that, and I soon found myself knees-down on the bathroom floor, driving the porcelain bus, as my best friend Sue Jan was fond of saying.

    After a few tentative frantic knocks at the door, Hudson burst into the bathroom, worry in his voice. Lovita, what’s wrong? I heard—

    But I was too busy tossing my cookies to answer my husband. Hugging the toilet, I tried to answer, but the contents of my stomach had other ideas.

    Oh, honey, you’re sick? He turned on the faucet and ran cold water over a clean washcloth. Wringing it out, he waited til’ I was done, then handed the cool cloth to me.

    Though my stomach was still doing somersaults, I looked up at the chiseled face I adored and whispered thanks, forcing my mouth to turn up into a weak smile.

    I couldn’t help admiring his masculine jawline, sleek dark hair and gorgeous brown eyes locked onto me—all dressed up in in my favorite green plaid pajamas and a white robe. Without makeup and sporting crazy bed-head hair, I was certain my complexion emanated its own peculiar shade of complementary green.

    You should keep your distance. I pointed to his navy blue suit. I-I don’t want your clothes to get all messed up. You’re on your way to work.

    He shook his head. I don’t care about my suit.

    But you care about your client. You have to be in court. I fought back the rising tide of nausea. That important case you told me about—

    Maybe you ate something that didn’t agree with you. He snapped his fingers. We had those sausages at Sue Jan and Monroe’s last night. They were a bit too greasy for my liking. I’ll bet that’s it. He put his hand on his chin. You know, there’s something about the way those things taste. Sure, they’re good, but sort of different. The taste reminds me of something else. Duck, maybe? I don’t know.

    Everyone in town had been raving over the sausages at Sammy’s Smokehouse, a new barbecue place, so Sue Jan and Monroe had the sausage dinner and fixings delivered and invited us over.

    Oh no . . . With the mention of greasy sausages, my poor stomach couldn’t hold out another second.

    I glanced up as soon as I was able.

    His brow furrowed. Oh Lovita, maybe we shouldn’t have gone. You’ve been following a healthy diet for a while. Maybe you shocked your body eating those spicy, greasy—

    Palm to the sky, I pleaded. "Stop. Honey, please, please don’t mention that again."

    Sorry. He cocked his head to the side. I hope and pray you don’t have food poisoning. I’ve come down with food poisoning on a few mission trips.

    I swiped at my face again with the washcloth. Hudson.

    He grimaced. Sorry again. I didn’t mean—I shouldn’t have mentioned. He turned and ran some cold water at the sink and handed me a fresh washcloth. Can I, uh, can I get you an antacid or some water or something?

    Hudson.

    I wonder if you have a temperature? He opened the medicine cabinet and peered in. Where’s the thermometer?

    No, I don’t think I have a temp. But you need to listen.

    Intent on finding the thermometer, I knew his mind was focused on the search.

    I’m really sorry I mentioned that food to you.  What was I thinking? He poked through the contents of the cabinet. I don’t see the thing. Do you have any idea where it could be?

    I lifted myself to the edge of the bathtub, sat down and sighed. Hudson, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you.

    He spun around and came to my side. What is it? What’s wrong? I should have helped you up. What kind of husband am I? He knelt down and pressed the fresh washcloth to my forehead. Tell me what?

    I touched his cheek. I don’t have a temperature, silly. We’re going to have a baby.

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    You might as well know that our little town isn’t what it used to be. For one thing, Wachita, Texas is not so little anymore. We’ve had a growth spurt, more like explosion of families moving in and setting up new businesses, and all because the neighboring town of Bentley grew too big for its britches.

    To make matters worse, some rich fellows are almost done building some kind of hunt club on the edge of town, though I can’t imagine why those fancy folk chose Wachita, of all places.

    Mind you, I’m not complaining, except for the fact that I can barely keep up with who’s who and what’s what any more. When Sue Jan’s husband, Monroe, got elected mayor last year, she thought of the perfect motto to promote Wachita, Little town, big dreams. Now our town isn’t so little, and our big dreams are turning into big nightmares.

    Earth to Lovita? Sue Jan Madson pursed her melon-tinted lips.

    What? Startled, my hand upset a glass of iced tea, almost knocking it over.

    Her light brown hair, subtly highlighted, was turned under in an attractive shoulder-length bob. No more Crazy Cherry Reds or Yam-tastic hair colors for her. Sue Jan was well on her way to looking and dressing the part of a politician’s wife.

    She reached over and snapped her fingers. Wake up, Ita. There’s a yummy plate of barbecued brisket in front of you and you’re lost in space. That little one in your tummy needs to eat, you know. The doctor said so. She accentuated that thought by taking another bite of brisket and smacking her lips.

    So that’s really how you told him? Jolene leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table.

    What? I squinted.

    Jolene McNulty, one of the hairstylists in our shop, had invited us to dinner to celebrate her son’s new job. Zane had finally scored a regular job as a barbecue chef at Sammy’s Smokehouse, one of a handful of brand new eateries in town. Landing in and out of trouble over the years, the boy had given up life on the shady side for a more conventional means of earning a buck.  Jolene and her bank account couldn’t be happier. Things had gotten so bad over the years she’d figured bail money into her regular budget.

    So in spite of the beauty shop being the busiest it’s ever been, we decided to close up a bit early and support her. I took a second to admire Jolene’s hair—a gingery shade, with medium brown undertones.  Better than the bleached bone color she used to favor. And she’d given up the fake bake, Oompah Loompa tan too.  Wonder of wonders.

    Sue Jan nudged me. Silly, she’s asking you about how you told Hudson you got a taco in the oven.

    Jolene choked down her laughter.

    I folded my arms. That doesn’t even make sense.

    She shrugged and kept on eating. Sure it does. We live in Texas, don’t we?

    No use wasting time trying to make sense of Sue Jan’s logic.

    I turned to Jolene. Yup, that’s how it happened. I sighed. The whole plan we came up with about giving him a bunch of little gift bags filled with clues after his birthday dinner didn’t work.

    Now refresh my memory. How was that supposed to go down? Jolene set a freckled hand under her chin.

    Sue Jan interrupted. The first gift was supposed to be a vintage record ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll.’

    And, I continued, The second gift was a candy bar.

    A Baby Ruth, Sue Jan winked.

    What about the third? Jolene’s eyes grew wide.

    I smiled. The third was my favorite—a jar of Prego spaghetti sauce.

    Jolene threw her head back in a hearty laugh. Good one, Lovita! Good one.

    Lovita? Sue Jan snorted indignation. "That was my idea."

    Oh, sorry. Jolene shrugged.

    Actually, Jolene, I think Sue Jan wanted to say she found that cute idea on one of those mommy blogs she visits.

    Sue Jan promptly stuck her tongue out at me and turned to Jolene.  But then Lovita got morning sickness and tossed it and lost it. She tittered. So much for that plan.

    As if on culinary cue, the three of us, four counting the taco in my oven, dug into our food—a mucho gusto moment.

    Sammy’s Barbecue Smokehouse was located right down the street from our Crown of Glory Beauty Salon and Boutique. Though the restaurant was big by Wachita standards, every inch of it was filled with hungry customers. Roasted chicken, sausages, brisket and pork ribs were the specials.

    Next to the salad bar, a barbecue station offered pickles, onions, tomatoes, chopped jalapenos, and slices of white bread, as well as big vats of sauce in mild, medium and atomic. I smiled. Slathered in enough sauce, the other customers looked like extras in a zombie movie as they gnawed on racks of ribs.

    Jolene made a sweeping gesture around the room. Will you look at all these folks? Zane’s gonna knock their socks off with his good cooking.

    I agree, Jo. Sue Jan swiped at her mouth with a fresh napkin. These are the best ribs I’ve ever tasted.

    In the past year, Sue Jan and I had embarked on a regime of diet and exercise. Though our husbands preferred not to give up meat, the two of us had stuck to a part-time vegetarian diet with the goal of losing weight and looking great. Though there were detours at times, for instance, the minute we set foot inside a Mexican restaurant or whenever we visited our favorite Wachita Chinese restaurant, the Wok of Ages, Sue Jan and I stayed dedicated enough to finally fit into size fourteen clothes right off the rack.

    When the OB/GYN gave me the baby news, she also recommended a change in diet since my blood was low on iron. Though I’d broken my not-so-firm vegan vow with Sue Jan’s dreaded sausages a few days ago, ugh, the time had come to venture into carnivorous territory again. I lifted a forkful of sliced brisket to my mouth, closed my eyes and began to chew. But the brisket melted in my mouth.

    Ummm. The tender taste of perfectly barbecued meat hit my tongue like a silver bullet, destroying all aspirations of becoming a vegetarian. Sooooo good.

    I knew you’d give in. Sue Jan winked. I did too, Ita. She sat back in her chair gazing at the empty brisket/sausage/short ribs plate in front of her. Sure, we lost weight eating rabbit food, but face it, you and I ain’t bunnies. I miss eating roast beef and burgers and hotdogs and pork chops and sausages and ham and . . .

    Jolene karate-chopped the table. You both look so good.  Don’t throw it all away.

    Flattered at first, Sue Jan waved at her, I ain’t no Barbie, but I ain’t big enough to eat hay neither.

    Jolene pleaded. You too lost enough weight to make two other people.

    Though my mouth wanted to issue a snappy comeback, I knew Jolene was right. Besides that, she meant well. Sue Jan and I had lost enough weight to make two other people. Maybe three. I put down my fork and smiled.

    Thank you, Jo. I’ll accept that as a compliment. And no worries, contrary to what Sue Jan said, I plan on keeping lots of vegetables in my diet after the baby is born. But after a taste of this dee-lishus barbecue, I know I’ve got to add more protein to balance things out. Plus, I have to agree with Sue Jan, I kind of missed eating meat, especially barbeque.

    Sue Jan sniffed. Jo, this ain’t the first time she rediscovered meat. We had her and Hudson over for dinner and those sausages . . .

    Hand instantly to mouth, I stared at her, hoping she would see my face as pale and drained as it suddenly felt. Stop—now.

    But.

    I shook my head. Don’t mention that again. I-I mean it. At the risk of offending Sue Jan, I had to stop her. Though I’d shared the truth about missing meat in my diet, I knew there was no way I’d be eating anything akin to a sausage again anytime soon, at least for the duration of my pregnancy. The very thought made me want to hurl.

    Well, uh, Jolene struggled to save the conversation. What about Hudson? Is he a-a—whatchamacallit too? Jolene’s eyes grew wide.

    A vegan? I wiped my mouth. No, like I said, none of us are.

    Sue Jan giggled. I never got used to that word. Sounds like you’re from Las Vegas, or another planet. She lifted her hands. Greetings earthlings, I am from the planet Vegan. My head looks like a collie-flower.

    When she and Jolene finally stopped laughing, I answered Jolene’s question. Hudson would never give up meat and honestly, I don’t think I can either.

    Jolene shook her head. I really thought you gave it up.

    Sue Jan eyed my plate. Speaking of meat, Ita, you gonna finish that last little piece of brisket?

    I shook my head, Go on, you can have it.

    Thanks. She speared and inhaled it in the same breath. She pointed her fork at our friend. That son of yours, Jolene, Sue Jan sat back. If he keeps cranking out food this good, he’ll go far.

    Jolene smiled wide. Thanks. That means a lot to me. You know what I’ve been through over the years with him. And now he’s got a new job, and a steady girlfriend. Her voice cracked. For the first time in a long time, I got a little hope he’ll make something of his life.

    I touched her arm. Of course he will. We’ve been praying for that boy too long not to get any results.

    Jolene brushed away tears. Thank you both for all them ‘flare prayers’ over the years. Zane sure needed ‘em.

    You’re not kidding. Sue Jan shook her head. No offense, but your boy’s done some crazy stuff. Sometimes he’s crazier than popcorn on a hot stove.

    Jolene’s lips pressed together for a moment. Times like these made me wish Sue Jan had a filter on her mouth. No mother wants to hear that about her own child—even if it’s true.

    But now he’s off to a new start. I held up my glass of tea. To new beginnings.

    Eyes glazed with tears, Jolene smiled and held up her glass, New beginnings.

    Sue Jan clinked her glass into ours. Ditto.

    High time for a new subject of discussion, the crowded restaurant provided a perfect example. Swiveling my neck in a half-moon scan of the room, I shared what was on my mind.  I was just thinking about how much Wachita is changing.

    Sue Jan took a sip of her iced tea. "Hmmmph, well if you ask me, that’s a good thing ‘Ita. This town was a Podunk, no-where’s-ville before Monroe got elected. Now it’s highlighted on the map and so is my husband. She looked to the right and to the left. Can you two keep a secret?"

    I shot a glance at Jolene, a slight smile curling her lips. The irony of the question took a few moments to sink in. Everyone in town knew, well, at least everyone in the old Wachita used to know that Sue Jan was incapable of keeping even a simple secret, like a recipe for instance, or a surprise birthday party. So for her to ask us, well . . . "

    Monroe’s got political perspirat . . .I mean aspirations.

    Such as?

    She winked. He’s thinking he might be a judge or maybe run for state representative or-or even for the senate one day. Sue Jan took a sip of her iced tea. I know what you’re both thinking. I just finished decorating his office. And it took forever to have that plaster bust of him made in Mexico.

    The plaster bust of Monroe was a subject of conversation around town. Not that Sue Jan cared to know. I tried to tell her numerous times.

    The bust looked more like Pancho Villa meets the Lucky Charms leprechaun. Did I mention the artist painted it too? That’s right, in vivid colors, complete with cartoonish hair, rounded myopic eyes and oversized eyeglasses.

    I smiled. Well, I can’t think of anyone in politics I’d trust more, except for—

    Hudson? She pointed a red-lacquered fingernail at me. Course, I knew you’d say that.

    Hudson and Monroe had worked at the same law firm in Bentley until Monroe decided to run for mayor of Wachita to oppose a crooked politician by the name of Wiley Butz. Long story short, Monroe won, the town of Wachita was

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