The Secret Ingredient Murders: A Eugenia Potter Mystery by Virginia Nancy; Rich Pickard

seen Stanley Parker all that day.
    They were followed by Celeste Hutchinson, looking glamorous in a floral silk dress and matching shoes. Genia had seen the outfit on her before. She thought it was wonderful when a woman found a style and a particular dress that looked so good on her that she could confidently wear it as often as she liked. Thank goodness the days were gone when a woman could not be seen twice wearing the same dress at social functions with the same people. Those old-fashioned dictums were hard on pocketbooks, though they had once kept legions of seamstresses in jobs.
    “Listen, Genia, I’m no cook,” the Realtor said, in a confiding tone that implied they were old friends by now. “I stole one of my mother’s old recipes for you.” She accompanied the recipe card with a quick hug of greeting. “It’s not much, but it’s the best I could do. I’ve just been swamped with open houses and new customers. Forgive me?”
    “Of course, Celeste. I’m glad that business is so good.”
    “You ought to buy this house, Genia.”
    “I didn’t know the owners even wanted to sell it.”
    “Well, if they don’t, I know a dozen other houses you’d love.”
    “I’m sure I would, but the last thing I need is another house to take care of.”
    “Oh, bosh. Do think about it, Genia. You fit in here like a native. We’ll do a house tour one day soon, and I’ll show you some gorgeous places. Is David Graham here yet?”
    Told he was at the bar, she made a beeline in that direction. Genia had smelled liquor quite strongly on Celeste’s breath. She made a mental note to make sure that when the Realtor left that evening she was sober enough to drive herself home.
    Genia was next caught in a bear hug by the mayor.
    “I’ve brought you something,” Larry Averill said, placing a white box in her hands.
    She drew off the lid and exclaimed in delight at what she saw inside.
    “It’s a key to our fine city,” the mayor announced.
    The key, six inches long and made of brass, had inscribed on it “Devon, Rhode Island.”
    “Should I give a speech?” Genia smiled at him, delighted with the gift. “Nobody’s ever given me a key to a city before, Mayor. I’ll hang it in a place of honor.”
    He beamed down at her like a proud, portly father.
    “Celeste here yet?”
    “She’s in the family room with the others.”
    While putting the key on the hall table for safekeeping, Genia couldn’t help but think of the mayor’s rumpled, rather sweaty appearance as compared to that of the well-groomed men who had preceded him into the house. And yet, she thought there was something innately nice about Lawrence Averill. She had a feeling he was always running late, not quite put together because he was too busy doing favors for other people to stop and think about himself. She was willing to bet that he kept a box full of brass keys in his car to pass out like candy, but that didn’t dilute at all the sweetness of the gesture, nor her pleasure in accepting it.
    As guests arrived, she asked if they had passed Stanley on the way. Each time she was told no. None of them appeared to be as fretful as she about his absence. That comforted her, because several of them had known Stanley longer and better than she knew him. If they weren’t concerned about him, she would try not to be, either.
    Genia glanced in the hall mirror to undo the damage all the hugging had done. A dab of gray eye shadow and a light brush of lipstick were all she ever wore as makeup, and she saw immediately that the lipstick needed replenishing. That, plus a nice silk blouse and long skirt, a pair of earrings, a hint of good perfume, and a polished pair of shoes were what she generally called “dressing up for dinner” these days. She smoothed back a stray strand of her silver-blond hair, which she wore pulled into a bun at the base of her neck. Only then did she notice a dark smudge on her silky white blouse. Where had that come from? From the