The Charcoal House

2,000 words

The Charcoal House

Lucy pulled a suitcase through the aisles of gray moving boxes. She missed her family, the Sunday afternoons with Nana, and time with Mom and Dad. She and Tony had been married for six months when they found out he was being transferred to Kansas City, which was so far away from everything she’d loved all her life.

Their new home was perfect. They couldn’t afford a house this nice in Baltimore.

She opened the door and rolled the suitcase toward Tony, who was unpacking.

“Ready to switch jobs? Is it too hot out there?”

“Not yet. It’s hot, but I enjoy bringing in lightweight boxes and bags. Every few minutes, I step outside, looking for neighbors. I’m leaving the heavy stuff for you.”

When Tony told her about his promotion, she was proud he was the youngest agent to fill his new position. Moving to Kansas City was another issue. Throughout college, she came home, where she was comfortable, to study on weekends, striving for the top grades. She was a true homebody and never bonded with the other students.

She had grabbed another bag when an attractive blonde fortyish woman walked into the driveway.

“Welcome to Kansas City! I’m Rachel Miller from next door.” She pointed to the house on her left. “I brought you guys something. I know moving days can be hectic.”

“Lucy Mancini, my husband’s name is Tony. We’re from Maryland.” She accepted the basket filled with cheese, fruit, and small sandwiches from Rachel.

“Thanks so much; this looks delicious.”

“Would you be interested in joining a neighborhood cooking group? Sorry for being so forward, but the Carters, who lived here previously, were our fourth couple. I’m recruiting for our next meeting, on Friday evening at seven. We’re hosting this month.” Rachel handed Lucy an invitation, accompanied by a “Cooking Club Rules list.”

“Sounds like fun. I need to talk to Tony, and then I’ll let you know.”

“Text me. My number is at the bottom of the page.” Before Lucy could say goodbye, Rachel turned and left quickly.

Lucy bounded up the steps to find Tony. 

“Hi, beautiful. You certainly look pleased.”

“I met our next-door neighbor, Rachel.” She handed him the basket.

“It looks yummy, very thoughtful of her.

She asked if we would join the neighborhood cooking club.”

“Wow, that’s fast. I’m surprised the neighbors didn’t wait to learn more about us. What kind of club?”

Lucy giggled as she sat beside him, opening the invitation and rules. “I think she’s desperate. They meet this Friday, and she needs one more couple.”

They both read:

Club Rules:

The first time a couple attends, they bring the appetizers. The second time, they provide a salad; the third time, they prepare a dessert. The fourth time, they will host. Please check with the hosts to find where you are on the cycle and ensure that your contribution will complement the primary entrée.

Host and Hostess Duties:

Prepare the main dish as a performance before the other members. Provide beverages, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic. Besides the entrée, provide a side dish or bread, possibly both, whatever coordinates with your entrée.

“Does she live in the house painted Charcoal, even the door and the shutters? It seems they are trying to make their home disappear.”

“Tony, Rachel seems nice despite the house color.” Hopefully, he won’t refuse to go.

“Of course, we’ll attend if you want to.”

Lucy sprung from the couch. “I’d better unload the rest of our clothes. I must find something to wear.”

It was Friday, and Lucy scoured the pantry and fridge. She had the ingredients for none of her three choices for appetizers. She drove to the store and purchased what she needed to make the one she liked most.

A gentle breeze blew by the time they left for the party. Tony carried the appetizers.

“I hope everyone enjoys them,” Lucy said, even though Tony had declared the Asian deviled eggs delicious earlier.

“You look lovely in your new hot pink sundress. I love your long, dark, wavy hair.”

“Thanks, you are stylish yourself.” He wore a blue Hawaiian shirt and casual khaki trousers.

In the house, all the décor was white, black, or shades of gray. Everyone gathered in the kitchen. The Grants were a couple slightly older than she and Tony, possibly in their early thirties. The Halls were an older couple, probably in their early sixties. Rachel’s husband, Joe, looked about the age of the Halls. They watched Rachel, attired in black, prepare the homemade teriyaki sauce for the rib eye steaks.

“Now, they marinate for at least two hours.” The guests raised their eyebrows, and then Rachel laughed. “Maybe I’ll cook the meat that has already marinated,” she said, opening the large refrigerator door and removing a meat tray.

Everyone clapped. Including Joe, Rachel’s husband, sat at the dinner table in his assigned seat.

“Joe, come over here and socialize,” Rachel ordered.

“I was just heading over there to visit him,” Tony said as he sat beside Joe.

Lucy was happy to see Joe smile.

“Help yourselves to beverages,” Rachel said as she started searing the steaks on her island’s large, flat grill.

“We like to use our outside grill in the summer,” Danielle Grant said.

“Nothing can seer properly on those grates,” Rachel responded.

Joyce Hall, who was out of Rachel’s view, shook her head.

Tony refreshed Joe’s drink. Then he poured a Zinfandel for Lucy and a pomegranate-iced tea for himself.

As the steaks sizzled, Rachel said. “Find your places, and I will serve the appetizers.” The white appetizer plates were on the pyramid of dishes on the table at each seat. “Please don’t switch the place cards.”

“I would be happy to serve them,” Lucy said.

“At my house, I serve everything.”

Heat rose to Lucy’s cheeks.

Tony stood and found his place card on Joe’s other side, and Lucy sat opposite Tony. Rachel served the deviled eggs and excused herself to tend to the entrée. Joe picked up his appetizer and took a bite, and the others followed.

“Delicious,” Joe said. Everyone nodded. Then, all the diners became silent. About two minutes later, Joe sipped his water, gurgling as his breathing became heavy. As his face gradually became red and he fell to the floor, his body twitched, and then he was still. All the guests stared with wide eyes and open mouths, except for Tony, who immediately checked Joe’s pulse and started CPR.

Lucy called 911.

“You killed my husband,” Rachel shrieked, running toward Joe and pointing directly at Lucy. “You murderer, you poisoned him.”

“He’s alive,” Tony said. “The ambulance should arrive shortly.”

“I know he’s almost dead,” she shouted, showing no relief.

Everyone stared at Joe and Tony. “The police will want to question everyone,” Tony said. “At least that’s our procedure at the FBI.” The sirens’ piercing screeches were becoming louder. 

“You work for the FBI? You should have told us.” Rachel appeared horrified.

“I live on the other side of you,” Joyce Hall told Tony. “What should we do? “

“It would be best if everyone would wait in the living room.”

They moved into the living room shortly before a police officer opened the door.

“I’m Sergeant Davis,” He introduced himself, and paramedics rushed by him as he looked around.

The paramedics rushed to Joe, relieving Tony of his efforts. Sgt. Davis asked Rachel, Lucy, and Tony to move to the living room.

“I demand to stay with my husband!”

“The paramedics know what they are doing, and they work best undistracted,” said Sergeant Davis, forcefully escorting Rachel.

There was no sign of grief or anxiety in Rachel’s pouting features as she sat. Lucy and Tony sat on a leather sofa so someone else could sit. The room’s mood was dim, as was the light absorbed by the dark surroundings. No one spoke. Joyce Hall sat by Lucy, touched her arm gently, and whispered. “I know it’s not you.”

Entering the hallway, Sgt. Davis announced he would interview witnesses one by one in the bedroom.

Another police team arrived, carrying large bags. “It’s the forensic team. I recognize the totes,” Tony told her,

After the officer had questioned each neighbor, the officer allowed them to leave. Only Rachel, Lucy, and Tony remained.

“Mrs. Miller, you’re next.”

 Rachel stood yelling. “I don’t even know if my husband is dead or alive, and you want to—.” The paramedics carrying Joe on a stretcher toward the door interrupted her. Joe was hooked to a miniature oxygen tank.

One of them spoke to Rachel. “Ma’am, He’s stable now. I believe he’ll recover reasonably once we get him to the hospital.

“Great news, Mrs. Miller,” said the officer at the door to the interrogation room. “Now, please come in for your interview.”

Rachel walked, her arms folded, toward the officer.

“She poisoned him,” she said, pointing at Lucy. The Sergeant started to speak but thought better of it.

He turned to Tony. “I heard you’re with the Feds.”

“Yes, they reassigned me to Kansas City from D.C. I start downtown on Monday.”

“You probably saved your neighbor’s life. Good job.”

“Thanks.”

While the Sergeant interviewed Rachel, Tony whispered to Lucy. “Joe seems like a pleasant guy. He told me a couple of things. I’ll tell you later.” The forensic guys left. Rachel and the officer emerged from the bedroom after about an hour. Her eyes were wet and puffy. She went into another bedroom while the officer waited outside the open door. Rachel came out with a wrap and a shoulder bag.

The officer told Tony and Lucy, “I’m taking Mrs. Miller to headquarters for further interrogation until the forensic team issues their preliminary report. Thanks for your help. We might be in touch with you later.”

Lucy sighed as they walked to their home.

“Are you okay?”

“I thought I had a friend.”

“You’ll make friends here soon.”

Monday morning, Tony brought the Kansas City Star newspaper into the kitchen, where Lucy was sipping tea. “Look at this.”

The headline read, “Wife Arrested for the Attempted Murder of her Husband.”

Lucy scanned the article. “She used cyanide, the article said, and the police found a bottle in her closet. They described you as the courageous neighbor who saved Joe Miller’s life.” Smiling at Tony, she said, “I’m so glad I married you. I should have known life would be exciting wherever we’re together.”

Tony bent and tenderly kissed her, then sat beside her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m lonely, homesick for my family.” Tony hugged her. “I need to look for a job; I’m not sure what I want—something fun. Maybe I’ll become a private investigator, Lucy said.”

“You’d better be kidding,” he smiled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you what Joe told me. He said he struggled to stop Rachel’s spending and suspects she was seeing another man.”

“Now, everything makes sense, and yes, I was joking about becoming a P.I. How could he tell you that in the short time you were talking?

“It took Rachel at least ten minutes to put the marinade together, plus removing the other steaks from the fridge.

After Tony left, Lucy sipped more tea. The pale yellow walls boosted her energy and her spirit. She picked up the phone to call Nana and tell her about the Cooking Club disaster. Nana might want to use some of it as a mystery writer in her next novel.

The following Monday. Tony rushed into the kitchen again. “I have something to show you.”

“Another article in the paper?”

“No, come outside, I’ll show you something.

Lucy followed Tony to the front porch. The sky was clear; the birds were tweeting, and the sun glowed. Tony smiled and pointed at Joe and Rachel’s house. A man on a ladder was painting the home a lovely light blue.