The Recipe

*This story contains murder, some sensitive language and implied abuse.*

“What do you want for dinner tonight, babe?” Claire asked. It had been a long day at work and she was exhausted and starving.

Jess looked at her blankly. “That’s always the question, isn’t it?” Jess had just returned from a weekend getaway with her best friend for a bachelorette party. She looked dog tired from a weekend of drinking and sunning and partying.

“We can Door Dash?”

“No. I want to have something homemade. I just spent three days eating out.” Jess was pouting, and Claire had a hard time resisting that pout, normally. But today, she just didn’t have the capacity to deal with it.

“Are you going to cook? Because I really don’t want to.” Jess raised an eyebrow at her wife.

“But you’re a better cook than I am.” Jess was almost whining, her pout still in full effect.

Claire sighed. “Okay. But once I pick something, you’re going to get the ingredients.”

Jess grinned. “Got it. Deal.” Claire watched as Jess opened her Instacart app.

Claire sat down in her favorite chair and started scrolling through Pinterest to look for a recipe. She read them out to Jess trying to get buy in on anything. “Chicken Kyev?”

“No.”

“Fettuccine Alfredo?”

“Uh uh.”

“Stuffed peppers?”

“No.”

“You have to want something.”

Jess shrugged. “Nothing sounds good so far.”

“Chicken lemon orzo soup?”

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds good.” Jess’s face lit up.

Claire shook her head and sighed as she opened the recipe. “Ugh. Why the hell do these recipes all have to have these whole ass stories about how their picky kid loved the recipe? Just give me the damn recipe. Like why put in all of that effort for something no one reads? Everyone knows that anyone looking for the recipe will just click ‘Jump to Recipe’.”

“Let’s read it so we can make fun of it.” Jess grinned.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Okay. Here we go.” She cleared her throat. “‘This was my husband’s favorite recipe. His mom, who is a second generation Greek, taught me to make it. It was originally her mother’s recipe, and her mother’s mother before that. So needless to say, this is a classic Greek recipe that even the most American palate will fall in love with.

“‘This is a hearty and comforting recipe that’s also very healthy, and I’ve included many substitutions to make it even more healthy. I came up with those substitutions when my dear hubby decided he needed to shed a few pounds and suggested I could lose a few pounds with him.’” Claire paused. “What a dick.” She commented.

“It doesn’t really say that.” Jess peered over Claire’s shoulder. “Oh my god. She really wrote that.”

“It’s so lame. Why are we reading this?” Claire asked putting the phone down into her lap and looking at Jess.

“Because. This one is actually good. Let’s keep reading.”

Claire sighed. “‘So, he really loved the substitutions. His mom, she couldn’t even tell that I substituted the full fat ingredients for lower fat and healthier options. And she is a total stickler for following the recipe exactly as intended (no wonder her son is a rigid and demanding brute). Even our kids loved it!

“‘So, dear husband lost all of the weight he set out to lose. Me, on the other hand, I gained another ten pounds. It wasn’t for lack of trying. But I’ll be damned if we were not on vacation, or attending an event for the kids. When you are a busy working mom, we all know how hard it is to fit in that gym time and cook healthy meals. And we all know the cooking healthy meals is the biggest key to losing weight.

“‘So anyway, Dear Hubs - he realized that I had gained that weight. He told me I was getting a bit pudgy. It’s not the first time he had some sort of criticism for me not looking like a Kardashian (can anyone tell me the big deal about them, anyway? Anyone with a fat bank account and access to a plastic surgeon can look like that. Not that I would want to. And not like I could afford to. But still…). On with my story now.

“‘So I decided it is actually time to make more of an effort. I made the soup. Not only because I want to lose a few pounds, but also because it’s a family favorite and it’s healthy. Only in his portion, I put some cyanide. The kids were not home. They were at a sleepover with their cousins. I wouldn’t want them to be here for this. Although I don’t think they would mind. He’s a cruel and cold father, just as he is a cruel and cold husband.

“‘Moving on, the beauty of cyanide is that it acts fast and it’s relatively easy to get. But that’s not for this post. But if you know the right people, you can get pretty easy access to it.

“‘And the beauty of slipping a dose of 250 mg into a bowl of this soup, is that the combination of the lemon, heavy cream, and chicken broth mask the flavor of the cyanide very easily. Especially if it’s served hot, which is how dear husband likes his food. If it’s less than piping hot when it’s served, he will throw a minor fit. I can’t even tell you how many restaurants he sent his food back.”

“Oh my god.” Claire whispered. “Is this for real?”

Jess’s mouth was practically on the ground. “Keep reading,” she whispered.

“‘Within a matter of an hour, my dear husband was dead. It wasn’t an easy or necessarily quick death. There was gasping, a little bit of foaming at the mouth, and he asked me to get him help. Begged, actually. I think he thought he was having a heart attack. Silly man. He never suspected that I would do that to him. He also never suspected that I would not get help for him. I just sat and finished my soup. It was so delicious. And by the time I was done finishing the dishes, he was dead on the floor.

“‘Now, that’s a whole other clean up issue. See, it’s spring now, and an ideal time to plant flowers. I had planned to plant an endangered species garden because, why not help with the protection of our environment? I strapped his body to a dolly, wheeled him outside, and planted my tomatoes over him. He will make excellent fertilizer for my monkey flower and lakeside daisies! Plus, since they are endangered, no one will be able to dig them up or mess with them. Sleepless nights with true crime shows are so educational.

“‘The kids will never miss him. They will think he left us, as he had threatened to do so many times before, seeing as how we are all great disappointments to him.

“‘If you read all of this blog, which no one usually does, it’s up to you to decide if this is the truth or fiction. You decide.

“‘In conclusion, this lemony creamy broth is the perfect base to warm the heart, and feed the soul. Serve it with a salad and some pita bread with a side of tzatziki and it’s like one of the Coney Island restaurants in the Detroit area. If you are really ambitious, you can serve it with spanikopita, which is what my kids prefer. Also made with my mother in law's recipe. You can find the link below.’”

“There’s no way this is real.” Jess whispered.

Claire scrolled to the top of the recipe link. “She doesn’t use her real name on the blog. She just goes by ‘Warm Mitten State Kitchen’.”

“She indicates Coney Island restaurants in the Detroit area. Plus, if I recall, Detroit has a section called ‘Greek Town.’ See if there are missing people listings in that area?”

Claire looked at the post date of the recipe. “This was posted eight years ago.”

“Type in missing persons, male, Detroit area, 2017,” Jess encouraged.

Claire did as Jess asked. Fourteen men in the area had gone missing. Of those, six were married. Of the six that were married two had children. Of those two, only one had a Greek sounding surname. Alexandros Petrakis. He was reported missing by his wife. He had yet to be found. No arrests. No suspects. After five years, his wife, Geneveve, was able to have him declared dead and cash in on his multi-million dollar life insurance.

“You’re telling me for eight years no one has read this whole ass recipe blog?” Jess was incredulous.

“You know for a fact no one reads those.”

“Are you going to report it?”

“We don’t know for sure that’s who it is. Like it said it may be fiction.” Claire closed out of the app, though she was pale. “I think we should just order pizza.”