Lethal Luncheon (Puzzle Lady Mystery, a short story) by Parnell Hall

“D O WE really have to go?” Cora Felton whined.
    Sherry Carter piloted the Toyota around a curve in the road, and glanced sideways at her aunt. “That’s a silly question, Cora. We’re in the car on our way to lunch. Of course we have to go.”
    “We could turn around.”
    “Aren’t you hungry?”
    “We could stop at the Friendly’s. I could get a cheeseburger and a hot fudge sundae.”
    “I thought you were on a diet.”
    “All right, I’ll get a coffee Fribble. Coffee isn’t fattening.”
    “It’s coffee ice cream .”
    “What’s your point?”
    “Cora, we have to go to the luncheon. You’re donating a dish. It’s for charity.”
    “But I can’t cook.”
    “You can’t do crossword puzzles, either, but that’s never stopped you.”
    Cora Felton’s sweet, grandmotherly face graced her niece’s nationally syndicated crossword puzzle column.
    “That’s unfair,” Cora protested. “Did I want to be the Puzzle Lady. I never wanted to be the Puzzle Lady. That was your idea.”
    “And a pretty good one, too. You owe your TV career to it.”
    Cora Felton did breakfast cereal commercials as the Puzzle Lady. The residuals paid for the house she and Sherry shared in Bakerhaven, Connecticut.
    “I’m not sure it’s worth it,” Cora said. “When I think of all the aggravation it’s caused. Like this damn luncheon.”
    “It’s for orphans,” Sherry said reprovingly. “Try not to call it a ‘damn luncheon’ with reporters present.”
    “Oh, no,” Cora said. “God forbid I should able to speak my mind. What’s this dish I’m supposed to have created?”
    “Glad you asked. You should have the recipe, in case someone asks you for it. It’s in my purse.”
    Cora went through Sherry’s purse, came out with a recipe entitled Cioppino: Puzzle Lady Style.
    “Cioppino? What’s that?”
    “Fish stew.”
    Cora made a face. “Then why couldn’t you just say fish stew? Why so pretentious with all the big words?”
    “You’re the Puzzle Lady. You’re supposed to know words.”
    “I’m supposed to know English words.”
    “Cioppino is English.”
    “Sounds Italian.”
    “It’s of Italian derivation. It’s still English.”
    “Oh, dear,” Cora said, looking over the recipe. “All these ingredients. You really mix them? I have trouble making toast and jam.”
    “Could you try not to admit that?”
    “Don’t worry. I’ll be at my deceptive best. So what am I supposed to do at this damn lunch? I mean at this charity luncheon to aid a worthy cause?”
    “Nothing. You donate your dish. You sit down and eat.”
    “Sounds simple enough.”
    “Then you give your speech.”
    “Oh, hell!”
    “You are the luncheon speaker. Or had you forgotten?”
    Cora groaned. “Believe me, I’ve been trying.”
    The sign over the door of the community center read, FEED THE KIDS, INC. Cora’s eyes lit up when she saw it.
    “Don’t you dare!” Sherry hissed as they went up the front steps.
    Betty Flagstaff, co-chairman of Feed the Kids, Inc., met them at the door of the dining room. “Ah, Miss Felton,” she gushed. “We’re so honored that you could come.”
    “How could I resist?” Cora smiled. “Feed the kids ink is such a noble sentiment. When I think of some of the kids I’ve known in my day, well, I just wish I’d thought of it then.”
    Betty Flagstaff was a large woman, who either had no sense of humor, or thought it best to pretend not to notice the remark. “That’s wonderful. And what have you prepared for us?”
    Cora, who couldn’t for the life of her remember what the dish was called, said, “My niece, Sherry, has it. May I present Sherry Carter, who was kind enough to drive me here.”
    “And carry the dish,” Sherry said. “It’s a fish stew. Cora calls it cioppino. I hope you don’t mind her using the Italian derivation.”
    “Of course not,” Betty said. “You know,” she confided in Cora. “I must tell you, I’m a crossword puzzle buff myself. And I’m