Derby Rotten Scoundrels, A Silver Dagger Anthology
From "The Long Shot" by P.J. Robertson:
"SUEANN HURST’S VIEW through her kitchen window wavered as if reflected in an antique looking glass. She noted the few surviving flowers that thrust their sturdy stems through the cracked clay soil next door, part of the young couple’s feeble attempt to spruce up the aging trailer on its tiny lot. The fresh paint they’d brushed over the rusting hulk only served to remind SueAnn of her own futile pretense that things were better than they actually were. She gently touched the windowpane. Let them hang onto their dreams.
Tearing a paper towel from the roll, she swiped at the tears coursing down her cheeks. Some people might call these manufactured houses, or even mobile homes, but looking around her own minuscule kitchen and living room, she knew there was no sense pretending—these were nothing but trailers, metal shells lined with cheap paneling, outdated carpeting, and shabby furniture. And to call this a trailer park, why that was clearly a misnomer; there was nothing park-like about this setting. I grew up in a trailer park, she thought. I thought I’d escaped, but here I am again. She sighed, blowing her nose on the paper towel before tossing it into the trash can under the sink. Bobby may be ready to give up on life, but I’m not; I haven’t lived yet. She raised her chin and straightened her shoulders. I’m not usually such a crybaby; it must be these darn onions.
Ignoring the tears that threatened to fill her eyes again, SueAnn scraped the coarsely chopped onions into a glass bowl atop the minced garlic, and began disemboweling the large red tomatoes lined up on the pitted countertop. She used a serrated knife to cut off thick slices, then grabbed the sharp chef ’s knife to chop them into large chunks. Bobby loved her salsa, but he wanted his vegetables in big pieces. She cut the jalapeños in half and threw them in the bowl. This time she’d added some new varieties the Food Lion store advertised as being even hotter than jalapeños. The fiery little habanero peppers were chopped fine. She washed her hands carefully after chopping those, her skin burning from the juices. Spices were added last. She scooped over half the mixture into the food processor for a quick whir. No one but Bobby liked the big chunks, and today she’d give it to him just like he wanted, but his buddies would appreciate the finer version.
She’d refused to make the salsa since Bobby had developed trouble with his throat. He’d nearly choked the last time she’d fixed it, but he’d refused to see a doctor. To be honest, there was no money for a doctor; her salary and tips went only so far, after all. Besides, no one could talk Bobby into doing anything he didn’t want to—all his friends knew that. And he didn’t choke often, just when he was excited.
Covering both bowls with plastic wrap, she set the salsa in the refrigerator to chill.
Bobby had asked for her salsa, special, for this party. It was Derby day, and he’d invited a few of his cronies over to watch the big race. They got together for every big sporting event to eat, drink, and bet on the outcome. She wasn’t sure any of them cared about the race, or knew its history. She wasn’t sure they even considered it a sport at all, but it was an excuse to get together and do what they did best. So she’d made his favorite salsa, just like he preferred it, and today, well, today maybe she just didn’t care if Bobby choked. She would put out both bowls, and he could make his choice."
Derby Rotten Scoundrels
May can be the deadliest month, especially the first weekend. This anthology surrounds one of the world's greatest sporting events, the Kentucky Derby. Stories by nine members of the Ohio River Valley chapter of Sisters in Crime:
Silver Dagger Mysteries (An imprint of Overmountain Press)
Trade paperback/$9.95 (US Dollar)
ISBN 1-57072-279-X
Hardcover/$23.95 (US Dollar)
ISBN 1-57072-278-1
Silver Dagger Mysteries
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