K IS FOR KARMA: The A, B, C's of

Witchery (Moonbeam Chronicles Book

11) Carolina Mac
Visit to download the full and correct content document:
https://ebookmass.com/product/k-is-for-karma-the-a-b-cs-of-witchery-moonbeam-chro
nicles-book-11-carolina-mac/
 K is for KARMA
THE MOONBEAM CHRONICLES: BOOK ELEVEN

Carolina Mac
Copyright © 2022 by Carolina Mac
K is for KARMA - 1st ed.
ISBN 978-1-989827-65-9

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the
product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or

transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission
of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other
than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed
on the subsequent buyer.

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via
any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable
by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not
participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.

Book Layout © 2017 BookDesignTemplates.com
 To: Those who think outside the box.

Karma: Action, seen as bringing upon oneself inevitable

results, good or bad, either in this life or in a reincarnation.

―DICTIONARY.COM
 CHAPTER ONE

Wednesday, April 7th.

Nine Hemlock Way. Elgin. Texas.

My name is Gillette Hart and I’m a cop. A serial killer specialist to be
more specific. I used to be a motorcycle cop when I rode with the
Night Vipers in Austin, but after a momentary marriage to a serial
killer named Sonny Hart, the Chief of the Texas Rangers decided I
had more insight into serial killers than a lot of cops twice my age—
I’m only nineteen—and he created a new position just for me.
Chief Calhoun called me into his office yesterday and he gave me
a new case to solve. I’m opening the file this morning right after I
have breakfast with my fiancé, Farrell Donovan, my brother Ardal
Thornheart and my mother-in-law, Moonbeam Hart-Turner.
Our cozy little family lives in Elgin, a little east of the city of Austin.
A ranch house on four beautiful acres, a large vegetable garden and
a barn with four stalls. Two equine residents in the barn at the
moment, Mirabelle, and Diablo.
Also we have two police dogs—Lulu, a bloodhound who is like
family—and, Pete, a huge dog of doubtful breeding, who is family. A
shiny black crow named Zing who is my familiar completes the pet
roster.
That’s the lot of us and we are a fully functional family.
“When are we starting the new case?” asked Ardal when I entered
the kitchen and poured myself a coffee.
“Right after breakfast. We’ll read through the reports on both
victims, then see if we can pick up a common thread or something
that doesn’t fit. The Chief said after a thorough investigation by the
Austin PD there was no place to start. It might be a challenge to
break the case open and find ourselves a decent lead.”
 “After I do the barn chores,” said Ardal, “I’ll be ready to start.”
“Weren’t you going to take a ride out to the woods this morning to
see if the wolves had come back?” I asked my brother.
“I’m procrastinating a little while I work up to it. I’ll go this
afternoon when the weather warms up. I’m not looking forward to
going back to… you know.”
I knew exactly what my brother was talking about and I didn’t want
to upset him by talking about it. I changed the subject. “So wonderful
to have you making breakfast, Moonbeam,” I said with a laugh. “Me
trying to cook for the household in West Virginia isn’t something I
want to remember.”
“Good practice for you, dear,” said Moonbeam. “You never know
when I might be called away suddenly.”
I gave her a terrified look. “Is that going to happen?”
Moon laughed. “No, not that I know of. At least, I hope not. I’m not
in the mood to go anywhere.”
I cranked my head around and stared at Ardal who was an
extremely reluctant Oracle. “Ardal, have you dreamed anything
about Moon leaving suddenly?”
He shook his head, black hair falling in his face.
The look he gave me wasn’t one of truthfulness and I made a
mental note to talk to him later about what he was keeping from us. It
was something he didn’t want to talk about.

Ardal set up his new laptop on the dining room table and while
Farrell slept we started on the new case.
The first victim or first body found was a tall blonde girl named
Susie Regency. Her body had turned up in a field out near
Lexington, a little town east of Austin. She had been stabbed
repeatedly and left in a roadside ditch to die.
I called my dog, Pete, into the dining room to listen to the
interview because he was my trusted assistant when I worked tough
cases.
The spirit of my dead husband, Sonny Hart, lived in the huge part-
Mastiff and it was not so convenient for either one of us. At first
Sonny had complained loudly and frequently about living inside the
dog, but it was the only alternative to staying in his grave deep in the
Everglades on Seminole land.
An unhappy compromise that had become the norm. Over time,
we became used to communicating through the dog, accepted it and
although it had seemed strange at first Sonny had reluctantly settled
into being a dog called Pete.
Time to get to work.
I opened the file and started. The lead detective on Susie
Regency’s case was Jason Gould, a homicide detective with Austin
PD. He had conducted all of the interviews on the case himself.
The first person Detective Gould talked to was Susie’s ex-
boyfriend, Trent Barstow. They had broken up the week before she
was murdered and he was devasted. It seemed he hadn’t accepted
the break-up and was hoping their disagreement would pass and
they would get back together.
I began reading the interview to Ardal and Pete.
Det. Gould: “Tell me about last night. Where were you between
the hours of eleven-thirty and four a.m.?”
Barstow: “I was home by eleven from the sports bar where I
watched the soccer playoffs with a bunch of guys from work. My
mom was making tea when I got home and I sat in the kitchen
talking to her for a few minutes before going up to bed.”
Det. Gould: “Your mother is your alibi?”
Barstow: “And why would I need an alibi? I certainly didn’t kill the
woman I love. I hadn’t given up on us getting back together, and I
would never hurt Susie. She meant too much to me.”
Det. Gould: “What was the reason you broke up? Do you want to
share that with me?”
Barstow: “No. Not really. The reasons were personal and I don’t
want to talk about them with a stranger.”
Det. Gould” “Okay, for now let’s put your personal reasons aside
and you tell me who Susie was seeing.”
Barstow: “Was she seeing someone new? If she was, she sure
didn’t call me up and tell me about it. Why don’t you ask her
roommate? She would know more than me.”
Det. Gould: “I’ll do that.”
 I stopped reading and said to Pete, “That interview was with the
ex-boyfriend. What do you think, sugar?”
Pete’s voice came out growly and sometimes he was not easy to
understand. I was used to the way he sounded and had no trouble
communicating with him. “Don’t like him much, but we need a lot
more info, Gilly. The ex-boyfriend isn’t connected to the murder in
any way or they would have arrested him.”
“And they didn’t.” I turned to my brother, “Ardal, anything so far?”
“Nothing yet. Who does the detective talk to next?”
“The roommate, Barbie Hutton,” I said. “Are you ready to listen?”
Pete repositioned his big head on my knee and growled that he
was ready for the next interview.
Det. Gould: “Miss Hutton, I’m so sorry for your loss, but I need to
ask you some questions about Susie. You probably want us to find
her killer as much as we do, and I’m sure you can help us do that.”
Hutton: “How can I help, Detective?”
Det. Gould: “If you could recall the past couple of weeks and just
go over in your mind anything that Susie might have said about a
person or persons you weren’t familiar with, or anyone who was
giving her any kind of stress. That would be helpful to me.”
Hutton: “The week before her break up with Trent she was
stressed. She wanted to end it with him but didn’t know how he’d
take it. She told me he was great most of the time but he did have a
jealous streak and he had twisted her arm once or twice when she’d
spoken to other men in a bar or a restaurant.”
Det. Gould: “He got rough with her a couple of times. Was that the
main reason Susie wanted to break off the relationship with Trent?
Did she share any details with you?”
Hutton: “Susie met someone else recently by chance and she
wanted to get to know him a little better. She was attracted to a guy
and she felt the relationship with Trent wasn’t going any further. She
didn’t want to spend her life with Trent. She’d already decided that.”
Det. Gould: “Okay. Fair enough. Susie had met another man she
liked. Where did she meet this new person?”
Hutton: “There was a function at the ReMax office where Susie
worked as a receptionist. It was someone’s birthday—one of the
female agents—and the rest of the girls got together and hired a
male stripper for fun. That’s when she met Johnny Rocket a few
weeks ago. They went out a couple times after that and she got to
know him a little. He was an engineering student at U of Texas and
he worked for Party Favors to help pay his way through university.”
Det. Gould: “I see. Would you happen to have an address for this
Johnny Rocket?”
Hutton: “No, I’m sorry. I don’t have his address.”
Det. Gould: “Do you think Trent Barstow knew about Susie’s new
interest in the stripper?”
Hutton: “He wasn’t a stripper.”
Det. Gould: “Sorry, I didn’t mean the question to sound demeaning
in any way.”
Hutton: “You did make it sound exactly that way and it was rude.”
Det. Gould: “I believe I apologized. Please continue.”
Hutton: “He was an engineering student who entertained people
to earn his way through his courses. Susie admired him for how hard
he worked.”
Det. Gould: “I’d like to talk to Johnny.”
Hutton: “You should. He might be able to tell you something
important that I don’t know about.”
I stopped reading and looked at Ardal. “What do you think of that
development, sugar?”
“Did the detective locate Johnny Rocket and interview him?”
asked Ardal. “He should have.”
“Let me look through the interviews,” I said. “I hope they found
him and talked to him. It would have been negligent police work if
they didn’t.”
“I’m going to get more coffee while you look,” said Ardal. “Can I
get you a refill?”
I handed him my mug. “Sure, thanks honey.” While Ardal was
gone to the kitchen, I searched for an interview with a guy named
Johnny Rocket and couldn’t find one. He could have used a stage
name for his stripping career. I know I would.
Ardal brought the coffee back. “Find him?”
 “Nope. We might have to go to Party Favors or to the U and
search for Johnny’s real name through the engineering students.”
“Wouldn’t Susie have his number in her cell?” asked Ardal.
“I’m sure Austin PD forensics would have gone over her phone
and her laptop—if she had one—very carefully.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Ardal. “But if the case isn’t solved, they must
have missed something.”
I picked up my phone and found a number for Party Favors. A
young woman answered on the first ring.
“Party Favors, how can I help you?”
“This is Ranger Gillette Hart calling, Miss. I’m looking for one of
your employees who goes by the name of Johnny Rocket.”
“Has Johnny done something illegal?”
“I can’t discuss that with you, Miss. Could you give me Johnny’s
address and phone number please?”
“I’m not allowed to give out that information. Company policy.
Sorry.”
“Employee records are not privacy protected. I’ll come to your
office if I have to and you may be charged with obstruction of an
investigation.”
“How do I know you’re a real cop. This could be one of those
scams.”
I recited my badge number to the girl. “Call Ranger headquarters
at this number and verify my ID. Then send me Mister Rocket’s
name and address. I need it now.”
“Okay, I’ll send it right after I make sure who you are. Give me
your email address.”
Moonbeam called us for lunch and we put work on hold for half an
hour. She made the macaroni casserole that Ardal loved. That made
him smile.

Elgin Woods.
Right after lunch, Ardal saddled Mirabelle and headed north of town
where the riding trails started. His heart pounding in his chest, he
entered the forest with a sense of trepidation. There was no possible
way he could ever forget what had happened to Jaden in these
woods.
The sight of her body torn to pieces by the wolf pack was etched
in his brain for the rest of his days. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d
never forget that sight.
He hadn’t had any of his Oracle dreams about Rowan since he
and Gilly had returned from West Virginia. Fine with him. He worried
enough about Rowan without nightmares scaring the shit out of him.
Ardal didn’t welcome the visions, but they were a gift from the
gods according to Gillette and the power that came with the gift
would never leave him. He had to learn how to manage what was
given to him by a higher power. He was a long way from that point.
Ardal had very little control over anything in his life at the moment.
He craved a steadying influence and needed to stick close to his
sister, Gillette.
When he rode across the stream and the path divided into east
and west trails, Mirabelle nickered.
“We’re not going near the wolf den,” said Ardal. “A quick ride
through the forest looking for Rowan and then we’re going home.”
The forest was silent. Afternoon sun filtered down through the
budding green leaves and made filigreed patterns in the thick bed of
pine needles on the forest floor.
The woods were magical in the daylight hours. Not so after dark.
When night fell and the wolves came out to hunt for food, no one
was safe.
Today there were no wolves. No Rowan.
Why did you think she’d be here?
To avoid losing his mind completely, Ardal turned Mirabelle for
home and rode like the wind.

Nine Hemlock Way. Elgin.

Farrell woke up and had his first coffee of the day with me in the
dining room. I usually avoided working at my desk in the bedroom in
the mornings for fear of disturbing him. He worked nights and he
needed his sleep.
“How is the new case shaping up, babe?”
 “A couple of things to check out that might get us started.” I told
him about Johnny Rocket.
“Homicide didn’t pursue that lead?”
“I can’t see where they did. Nope. I called the U and they sent me
a list of all the male students in the engineering courses. Want to
help me look for his name?”
“How do you know that’s his real name?” asked Farrell. “If he’s a
part-time stripper that ain’t his name.”
“You’re right. His real name is Johnathan Sharp and he lives in
Rosedale. I got that in an email from Party Favors a few minutes
ago.”
“I’ll help you look through the student list,” said Farrell. “If he’s on
the U’s list that confirms he’s the right guy. We could go to his
residence around dinner time and we might catch him at home—
between classes and strip time.”
I giggled. “Busy guy, but yeah, dinner time we might catch him.” I
passed Farrell a couple of pages of the printed list.
A low growl escaped from Pete who was lying under the dining
room table.
It was no secret that Sonny hated having Farrell around—even
though we were engaged to be married—and Farrell equally hated
that my ex-husband lived with us inside the dog.
They tolerated each other—but not well. Pete enjoyed insulting
Farrell while Farrell enjoyed pretending Sonny didn’t exist.
Pete growled under the table. “Why didn’t the cops interview this
Johnny guy? I’ll tell you why because cops are brain dead. That’s
why.”
I leaned down and smacked Pete upside the head. “I’m not brain
dead and neither is Farrell. Go eat your kibbles and don’t talk
stupid.”
Pete lumbered off towards the kitchen and Farrell shook his head.
“I’m not commenting, little girl, but that dog aggravates me on
purpose.”
“Uh huh. He’s jealous because he’s dead and also because I soon
won’t be his wife anymore.”
 Farrell gave me a weird look. “You’re not his wife now, babe.
You’re a widow. Sonny is dead.”
He doesn’t feel dead to me.

Rosedale. Austin.
Farrell rang the doorbell of an apartment in a house that had been
divided into four separate units and rented to students attending the
University of Texas.
A tall blonde girl opened the door and smiled at us and especially
at Farrell holding up his badge. “Police. What’s up?”
“We’d like to speak to Johnathan Sharp,” I said. “Is he here?”
“Uh huh. Johnny is here. Come on in.” She showed us into a
small sitting room just inside the door. “Have a seat. I’ll get him.
We’re just finishing dinner.”
“Finish your dinner if you like,” I said. “We can wait.”
The two of them appeared a few minutes later and sat down on
the sofa. Johnny was a hunk and a looker—definitely the makings of
a Chippendale. Tanned with medium length blond hair. Yep, a chick
magnet without any effort at all.
With a big dazzling smile, Johnathan Sharp extended a hand first
to me, “John Sharp. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Ranger Hart.” I shook his hand and gave him a smile and he
moved on to Farrell.
“Ranger Donovan, Mister Sharp. Just a few questions about Susie
Regency if you don’t mind.”
“Who?” He laughed. “I don’t know the name. I meet so many
people on campus, I can’t possibly remember them all.”
Lying.
The tall blonde came into the room and sat down next to Johnny-
boy.
“And this is?” I said.
“This is my wife, Erica.”
“Lovely to meet you, Erica,” I said. “Are you a student also?”
He can’t talk about Susie in front of his wife.
“No, I’m working so we can afford for John to finish school and get
his degree in engineering.”
 Farrell got the picture and blabbed out an excuse for us to take
our leave.
Johnny-boy saw us to the door and I gave him my card. “Call me
with a time tomorrow that you can meet me at Ranger Headquarters.
If you don’t come in voluntarily, I’ll have to ask you a lot of
uncomfortable questions in front of your wife.”
“I understand, Ranger Hart.” He fingered the card and didn’t make
eye contact with me. “I’ll call later with a time after I look at my class
schedule.”
“Thanks. Looking forward to it.”
 CHAPTER TWO

Thursday, April 8th.

Nine Hemlock Way. Elgin.

After breakfast, Ardal and I started in on the case again. This
morning we were reading the interviews pertaining to the most
recent victim, Sonja Talmadge.
A glance at the crime scene photos told me she was a match for
victim number one. Sonja was a tall blonde in her twenties. The MO
matched. Her body was found not too far from the Lexington area
where Susie Regency was discovered.
“Because of the location of the body,” I said to Ardal, “this case
went to Round Rock PD.”
“Who noticed that the two cases were similars?”
“Chief Calhoun, I guess. He didn’t tell me.”
“The Chief is a sharp guy,” said Ardal and I had to agree with my
brother.
“Definitely. He doesn’t miss much.”
“The lead Detective on Sonja’s case was Kerry Pinsent. He
started with the obvious suspect—Sonja’s husband Ramon.”
“Let’s hear what Ramon had to say,” growled Pete. “The husband
didn’t always do it.”
“What are the percentages?” asked Ardal. “Can you find them
anywhere?”
“I’m not sure where to look,” I said.
“A lot of husbands love their wives,” growled Pete. “They don’t
hurt them, they protect them.”
I leaned down and gave Pete a hug. He could be so endearing.
Det. Pinsent: “Sorry for your loss, Mister Talmadge. I realize
you’re grieving for your wife, but I have to ask you some questions.”
 Talmadge: “I don’t want to answer questions.”
Det. Pinsent: “This is a hard time for you, I’ll grant you that, but if
we don’t get a place to start we can’t find the person who killed your
wife.”
Talmadge: “I don’t know a single thing about my wife’s murder.
How can I possibly help y’all?”
Det. Pinsent: “There might have been something mentioned in the
last couple of weeks that you haven’t thought of. That one little piece
of information might be the key.”
Talmadge: “We both work a lot and I can’t remember Sonja saying
anything out of the ordinary. Can I go now? I have to get things
ready for her funeral.”
“Where did Sonja work?” asked Pete.
“Let me look it up.” I paged back to the beginning of the file where
all the pertinent information was listed. “She worked at a lighting
store. Lighting and Accessories in Round Rock.”
“Did the cops talk to people from the store?” Pete growled out his
question.
“I’m sure they did. Let me find the first interview.”
Lulu interrupted my train of thought with a barrage of loud barking.
Ardal went to the front window to see if there was someone in our
driveway.
“New people moving into the house across the street. Big truck
backing in.”
“Oh, I didn’t see a sold sign on that house. Guess I missed it.”
“Better not be another Jody,” growled Pete. “I might as well run
right over there now and rip a chunk out of them.”
“Don’t be mean and aggressive, sugar. It doesn’t sound nice and
Moon wouldn’t like hearing it.”
“Just kidding.”
“No you weren’t. I can tell when you’re fooling around.”
I looked for the interview I wanted and found Detective Pinsent
talking to the store manager—Padraig Rooney.
Det. Pinsent: “Mister Rooney, let’s talk about the last couple of
days Sonja worked in your store. Was there anything different about
her that you noticed?”
 Rooney: “I don’t think so. Sonja was a good worker. She was
never late and she rarely called in sick. She loved our store and was
always excited when new stock came in. A very artistic girl and she
made gorgeous displays for us. As far as I was concerned, she was
my number one employee.”
Det. Pinsent: “So, you noticed nothing unusual about Sonja the
last couple of days? I’m asking about her mood, her attitude, her
demeanor—that type of thing.”
Rooney: “Umm…she may have been a little more hyped than
normal. Sonja was a quiet girl who didn’t chat a lot to people.
Extremely polite, but she wasn’t a chatterbox or anything.”
Det. Pinsent: “But the last day or two before her murder she was
more talkative?”
Rooney: “I would say so, but not to me. To the other two girls who
work in the store. They would know a lot more about her mood than I
would.”
Det. Pinsent: “Thank you for your time, Mister Rooney. I’ll be
talking to both of your other employees in the next couple of days.
I’m hoping they have something to put me on the right track.”
Rooney: “I hope so too. Sonja will be sorely missed at the store.”
I finished reading Rooney’s interview and glanced across the table
at Ardal. “What did you think of the store manager?”
Ardal shrugged. “Nothing there.”
“I agree,” growled Pete from under the table.
“Nuts,” I said. “We need to trig into something.”
Ardal checked his watch. “I’m anxious for the interrogation of John
Sharp. He’s going to give something up. What time are we leaving
for the city?”
“We should go soon, sugar. You’re right.” I closed the file and
went to my room to change my clothes.

Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

Farrell was up in time and volunteered to help me with John Sharp’s
interview. Seeing Farrell was going with me, Ardal opted to take
Mirabelle for a ride to the woods after he cleaned out the barn. He
was dealing with issues that were messing with his head.
 John Sharp, a.k.a. Johnny Rocket showed up at the time he said
he’d arrive. I found him reading a magazine in the waiting area when
Farrell and I got to the DPS building.
“Thanks for coming in, Mister Sharp.” I greeted John with a smile
and led him down the corridor to interrogation room one.
“Have a seat and we’ll get started in a minute. Would you care for
a coffee or a cold Coke?”
“No thanks.” John glanced at the bar welded to the metal table
and chuckled. “Don’t you want to cuff me and chain me to the table?”
“Would you be more comfortable if I did that?”
Johnny-boy laughed. He was blessed with a large dose of
confidence and cockiness. A lot of women would find those qualities
attractive. I wasn’t one of them.
“Nope,” he said with a grin, “I’m okay the way I am.”
Farrell turned on the recorder and set up the interview. When all
was ready, I started. “You were hesitant to speak to us at your
residence and from your discomfort, I presumed your wife had no
knowledge of your evening job at Party Favors. Is this correct?”
“Umm…not exactly. She knows I have a night job but she thinks I
work at a package store from eight to midnight.”
“Uh huh. How long have you been married, John?”
“We recently celebrated our first anniversary. I love my wife and
we’re happy together.”
“Let’s talk about Susie Regency.”
“That’s her last name? I never knew it.”
“Susie’s roommate told us you met when you performed at a party
where Susie worked—the local ReMax office.”
“Yeah, a small gathering for a birthday, I think it was.”
“And you and Susie began seeing each other after that night?”
John shrugged. “Nothing serious. We went out a few times for
drinks. It was casual”
“Did Susie know you were married?”
“Umm…I might not have mentioned it. We barely knew each
other.”
“Susie felt you knew each other well enough to break up with her
boyfriend,” I said. “Did you know about the breakup?”
 “Nope. She didn’t mention it to me.”
Farrell got to his feet and paced back and forth in the small bare
room. He leaned forward close to Sharp and shouted at John, “Why
did you kill Susie, Johnny-boy?”
“What? I didn’t kill her. Why would I do that?” John’s jaw tightened
and all of his good humor faded. “What makes you think I’m capable
of killing someone? Do you have any evidence? If you do, I want to
know what it is and I want to know right this minute.”
Farrell grinned.
“You were seeing Susie Regency and now she’s dead,” I said.
“That makes you a suspect way up there at the top of our list. Our
next step will be to question your wife.”
Farrell jumped in. “Your wife found out about Susie, didn’t she?”
Farrell pointed a finger in Johnny’s face. “She threatened to leave
you.”
“Not true.” John kept his cool and answered in a steady voice. “I
keep my night job separate from my marriage.”
“It’s not going to be separate much longer, Johnny,” I said in a
sympathetic voice, then I switched trains. “Tell me about Sonja
Talmadge. How did you meet her?”
“Sorry. I don’t know anyone named Sonja.”
“Sure you do. Cute blonde girl who worked at the lighting store.
Did you go in there to browse or make a purchase and hit on her?”
“Nope. Don’t know her at all. This bullshit is getting a little too
crazy for me. I just decided I want to call my lawyer. I’m not
answering any more questions until I talk to him.”
“That’s your right, Johnny,” I said. “You’re not under arrest. You
can go if you wish.”
He got to his feet in a hurry. “Okay, thanks. I’m still going to speak
to my lawyer. It feels like a good idea to me. You cops are harassing
an innocent person and I’m not putting up with your bullshit. I have
rights.”
“Always a dandy idea to have legal representation,” said Farrell.
“It’s one of your rights.”
I walked John to the front door of the building and thanked him for
coming in to talk to us. When I returned to the interview room, Farrell
was sitting at the table deep in thought.
“What, sugar? Did you pick up on something?”
“He got rattled when you started on the second victim. There
might be something about Sonja’s murder he’s concerned about. A
small detail he’s been thinking about that might trip him up.”
“Uh huh. Good one. I’ll go over the autopsy report and look
through her personal belongings again.”
“When you talk to her friends at the lighting store,” said Farrell,
“one of those girls might have seen him with Sonja and that’s what
he’s worried about.”
“Could be. Let’s run up to Round Rock to the store on the way
home.”

Lighting and Accessories. Round Rock.

A half hour later Farrell and I entered the lighting store and they did
have some beautiful fixtures and a lot of fancy décor items. I had my
eye on a pair of pricey lamps that would look fantastic in our living
room.
I spoke first to Mister Rooney and asked if I could speak to the
girls one at a time.
“Certainly. Sonja’s death hangs heavy over our store. We were a
happy little family before this happened.” Rooney seemed genuinely
upset.
“Please, use my office.” He showed me where his office was, then
brought in the first girl and introduced her. “This is Micha, Ranger
Hart.”
I smiled at Micha who looked scared to death. “Come in and sit
down and there’s no need to be nervous. This won’t take long.”
Farrell closed the office door and leaned against the wall.
“Is this about Sonja?”
“Yes. Just a bit of information. You don’t have to be frightened of
me.”
“I am nervous. I never answered questions for the police before.”
She folded her shaking hands in her lap and looked at me with
terrified eyes.
 “What do you know about Sonja and a guy named Johnny
Rocket?”
Micha sucked in a breath. “Is he the guy who killed her?”
“You did know him then?” I asked.
“No. I never met him, but Sonja talked about him a little. I couldn’t
believe when she told me and Carla she was cheating on Ramon. It
was so not like her at all.”
“Where did she meet Johnny?” I asked.
“He came into the store to buy an anniversary gift for his wife and
Sonja sold him an expensive mirror.”
“How long ago was that?”
“I don’t remember exactly. Two or three weeks ago. Maybe
longer.”
Farrell nodded. “We’ll need a copy of the receipt for the mirror. It
will be dated, will it not?”
“Oh, yes. The date will be on the receipt. I can get that for you.”
“Wonderful. Anything else you can remember Sonja telling you
and Carla about Johnny?”
“You can ask Carla,” said Micha. “After Sonja met Johnny she was
like crazy in love with a guy she barely knew and she was throwing
her marriage out the window. We couldn’t believe she would ever do
something like that.”
“It was out of character?” I asked.
“So much so. Sonja was a quiet homebody. She and Ramon
barely ever went out.”
“Possibly Johnny brought excitement into her life,” I said.
Micha nodded. “That might have been it. Sonja was so hyped
after she met him and she was never like that before. We’ve worked
together a long time.”
“Thank you, Micha. You’ve been helpful. You can go back to work
and we’ll talk to Carla.”
Carla came in next. A beautiful Hispanic girl with long black hair.
“I’m a bit shaky talking to the police.”
“Nothing to be nervous about, Carla. Sit down and relax. This
won’t take long at all.”
 Carla teared up immediately when I began asking questions about
Sonja. “Micha and I couldn’t figure out why Sonja was going out with
a guy she barely knew. He was a customer and then the next night,
she met him for a late drink. I was so worried Ramon would find out.”
“Sonja wasn’t worried?” I asked.
“She was in another world, she was so crazy over this Johnny
guy. It wasn’t like her at all.”
“Did you and Micha have a talk to her about her cheating on her
husband?”
“Yes, we did. We couldn’t tell her what to do, but it was easy to
see her marriage was going to be wrecked if Ramon found out.”
“Do you think Ramon did find out?”
“I didn’t think so,” said Carla. “Sonja would have told us if he
knew, but then…”
“Then?” I prodded her a little.
“Then she didn’t come to work and she didn’t call in. I was
worried. Micha and I thought Ramon found out and he might have…
hit her or something and she couldn’t come to work.”
“Right, you were worried.”
“Then we found out she’d been murdered and…well it’s been hard
to come to work since we found that out. Poor Sonja.”
“Had her husband ever been rough with her in the past?” asked
Farrell.
“Maybe one time,” said Carla. “She came to work with bruises on
her arms and legs and we asked her about it. She cried in the
washroom that day.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“A few months ago. I can’t remember exactly.”
“Did Sonja ever mention being afraid of her husband?”
“She never came out and said it, but I felt she was afraid of him.
Just an impression.”
“Sometimes impressions are surprisingly accurate,” I said. “Thank
you for talking to us, Carla. You can go back to work.” I handed her a
card. “If you or Micha think of anything else, just give me a quick
call.”
“Okay, I’ll think about things Sonja told us and call you.”
 “Wonderful.”
Before leaving the store, Farrell got a copy of the receipt from
Mister Rooney. Johnny Sharp had made a purchase in the store and
Sonja’s employee number was printed on the receipt. That fact
linked him to both victims.
Were there others? It would take research to find out.
Driving home to Elgin, Farrell seemed encouraged. “We’ve linked
him to both victims, babe. You made a lot of progress today.
“Should we bring him in again for formal questioning?”
“Call the Chief and get his opinion, but I’m sure Calhoun will agree
that you have enough to bring him in for another round. You can use
the receipt as proof that he knew Sonja and we have him on tape
swearing he never met her.”
“When we talked to him this morning, he flat out denied knowing
her,” I said.
“He’s a fairly good liar,” said Farrell. “Almost believable.”
“He must have told a lot of lies to his wife,” I said. “I wonder if she
had her doubts about Johnny-boy’s fidelity?”
“Let’s go home and have dinner,” said Farrell. “You can call the
Chief on the way and tell him you’re bringing the rocket in again
tomorrow.”
“He’ll be pleased we have solid evidence,” I said. “Tomorrow I’ll
use Johnny’s wife against him. We’ll question her and lay it all down.
See what kind of a shit show that unleashes.”
Farrell chuckled.
 CHAPTER THREE

Friday, April 9th.

Nine Hemlock Way. Elgin.

At breakfast I brought Ardal and Pete up to date on what we had
found out from the two girls at the lighting store.
“He knew both victims,” said Ardal. “What are the chances of
that? Good one, Gilly. We bringing him in today?”
“Uh huh. I’ll have to call the University and see where his classes
are this morning. The campus is so huge it will be difficult to pinpoint
where he is.”
“You know the grounds pretty well,” said Ardal. “You used to hang
out there with Liam, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. That’s where I met Liam for the first time. I was sitting
on a bench thinking about taking a course and wondering if I could
do it.”
“You could pass any course you tried,” said Moonbeam. “You are
a clever girl, Gillette.”
“Thanks, Moon. Some days I don’t feel too bright.”
“Did you tell the Chief what you found out?” asked Ardal.
“I did. He knows I’m bringing John Sharp in today. He thinks I
have enough to book him on suspicion.”
“His lawyer will come with him or meet him there and Johnny
won’t say anything,” said Ardal. “He might go totally silent.”
“Sure. Let him go silent, but he’ll have a record and he won’t like
that one bit.”
“He’ll make bail,” said Ardal. “You only have circumstantial
evidence.”
“You’re right, sugar. I have to find more. I don’t want to lose him.”
After breakfast, I poured a second cup of coffee and called the
Engineering admin office at U of Texas. I was transferred a couple of
times before I was speaking to the correct person.
Figuring in an hour’s drive to Austin, I inquired as to where John
Sharp would be between ten and ten-thirty.
“He has a class at that time in the Peter O’Donnell building. Room
one forty.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” I ended the call and hollered for
Ardal. “Are you ready to go?”
The front doorbell rang and Pete and Lulu both bolted for the
foyer.
Moonbeam arrived at the door seconds ahead of me and opened
it to the Round Rock Warlock. I sucked in a breath at the sight of
him, not quite believing he was standing at my door.
Why is he here?
Moonbeam hesitated and the warlock stepped into the foyer
uninvited. Looking directly into my eyes, he asked, “I wonder if we
might speak privately for a moment?”
“Who are you? You followed me from West Virginia to Texas. Why
did you do that?”
“No. Not from West Virginia. It was only a coincidence I came
upon you as I left N’Orleans.”
New Orleans. His accent is the same as Misty’s.
“What do you want to talk to me about? I was just leaving for an
appointment in the city.”
“Rufin Pictou is the reason I need to speak with you.”
“We’re no longer friends,” I said. Moonbeam stood close to me
with both dogs and she nodded her head. She witnessed how things
turned out with Rufin.
“Rufin told me how badly he treated you, but please let me deliver
my message. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Come in.” I motioned towards the living room and Round Rock
Warlock followed behind me in his oilskin coat, his long dark hair
brushing his shoulders.
“I’m Rufin’s half-brother, Gregor Pictou, and I come on behalf of
Rufin. He is in deep trouble and sent me to find you and to implore
you to help him.”
Not the name we found when we looked you up.
“Why me? He would receive far more help from the Great One.
They have been friends for years.”
“True, but because of her impending nuptials, she is not able to
leave Austin at this time.”
“I’m working and now is not a good time for me to be away either.
What is the nature of Rufin’s dilemma?”
“He is in jail in N’Orleans and you are a police officer as well as a
gifted witch. He feels you may be able to sort out his problem.”
“What about Charlotte? Why can’t she sort him out?”
“Charlotte McLean? I don’t know why you would be talking about
her.”
“She’s Rufin’s girlfriend, that’s why.”
“No, you must be mistaken. Rufin hasn’t had a girlfriend since I’ve
been home. Charlotte McLean is a friend to both of us, but not a
girlfriend.”
“What are the charges against Rufin?”
“The police have charged him with the murders of three women
and are referring to him as a serial killer.”
Rufin can be a prick, but he’s not a serial killer.
“Give me today to clean up the case I’m working on. Come
tomorrow morning and give me all the details you have.”
He smiled and Gregor did resemble Rufin slightly. He might be
telling the truth. On his way to the door, he presented me with a
business card.
Pictou Potions and Poisons, Gregor Pictou, and a phone number.
“Your mother was famous in Louisiana for her poisons,” I said.
“The murders Rufin is charged with—how did those girls die?”
“They were poisoned,” said Gregor.
“Uh huh. Come tomorrow morning at ten.”
“Thank you,” said the warlock. “And Rufin thanks you too. His
undying longing for you after his disgraceful behavior did not go
unnoticed or unpunished.”
“Karma is a bitch.”
University of Texas.
It took Ardal and I longer than I’d anticipated to find the Engineering
building, but with perseverance, we arrived as the lecture ended and
the students came pouring out.
“There he is,” said Ardal. He charged towards the Rocket and
cuffed him before Johnny-boy knew what was happening.
“Hey, you can’t do that.”
“Shut up,” said Ardal. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
I agreed. Ardal was not in the mood for anyone’s bullshit. He was
sinking deeper and deeper into himself and it was all about Rowan.
“Where are you taking me? I have rights. I want to call my lawyer.”
“As soon as you are booked, your rights will kick in, Rocket-
launcher.” I gave him a shove to get him walking in the right
direction.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Shut up and walk to the parking lot,” I said. “All your engineering
buddies are watching you. How are you going to explain this?” I
laughed at him and Johnny-boy cast me a death-ray glance.
Ardal secured him in the back of the truck and John cursed all the
way to headquarters.

Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

Johnathan Sharp jerked on the chain attaching him to the bar on the
metal table in interrogation room two. “I want my phone call.”
“You will get you phone call as soon as you are booked, Johnny-
boy.”
“Don’t call me that. Call me Mister Sharp.”
“You can call me Madonna,” I said. “Shut up and listen. You are
being charged with premeditated murder. Two counts. That will get
you the needle twice.” I giggled and couldn’t help myself.
“You have to have proof, you crazy bitch, and you don’t have any.”
“I’ve connected you to two of the victims and there may be more
depending on what your kill rate is. I’m not dismissing that possibility,
Johnny.”
“This interview is over. I’m not talking to you without my lawyer
present.”
 “Sure, we’ll get you booked and squared away and you can call
your lawyer. While you’re in your cell waiting for him or her to show
up, I’m going to have a little chat to your wife.”
“Don’t do that,” hollered Sharp. He tried to stand up and the chain
around his wrist held him down. “I don’t want her to know about
Susie.”
“What about the others? Don’t they matter?”
He dropped his voice. “There were no others.”
“Nice try, but I know better.”

I left John Sharp in the hands of one of the Rangers after I booked
him, saying I’d get back to him later. A quick chat with his wife, Erica,
and I would leave the case in Farrell’s capable hands. He’d have all
the information I had up to that point.
There were more pressing matters in NOLA and I had no choice
but to leave.
On the way to see Mrs. Sharp—or not so—I called Misty for
guidance. She wanted me to deal with Rufin’s problem and I couldn’t
refuse, no matter how much I wanted to stay home. I owed her so
much on a personal level.
She seemed pleased to hear from me. “Stay at my house. You
know where the key is. When can you leave?”
“Soon. I’m just finishing up a couple of things that I’ll be entrusting
to Farrell, then I’ll leave.”
“Good,” said Misty. “I’m afraid Rufin is in deep trouble and he
needs us.”
“I hope I can help him when I get to New Orleans.”
“Of course you can help him Amethyst. You are highly skilled.”
I hope you’re right, Misty.

Sony. Austin.
Erica Sharp worked in the accounting department at Sony. I dropped
by, displayed my badge, and asked at reception to speak to Mrs.
Sharp for a moment.
Met with several questioning looks, the receptionist made a
couple of quick calls and Erica Sharp appeared in front of me.
 She took me to the side out of earshot of the teen-queen
receptionist and snarked at me. “What do you want? Why are you
harassing John and me? I’m thinking of calling the Mayor.”
“Call the Mayor. Call the Pope. Call Oprah if you want to. It won’t
help Johnny Rocket.”
“Who’s that?”
“That’s your husband’s name when he works his night job as a
male stripper.”
Erica laughed. “That’s bullshit.”
“Call his employer and check it out.” I handed her one of Johnny’s
cards. “He must have these hidden somewhere at your place.”
“If John worked a job like that, I’d know about it. We have no
secrets. He works at the package store on Seventh.”
“Uh huh,” I said. “There’s something else.”
“Go ahead and tell me another lie. I’m meeting John for lunch and
he’s going to get a big laugh out of you and your lies.”
“John won’t be making your lunch date,” I said.
“Why not? His class will be over by then.”
“John isn’t in class this morning. He’s in the lockup at Ranger
Headquarters.”
“What? Are you people crazy? What’s he charged with?”
“First degree murder. Two counts.”
“I’m going to the police station right now.”
I gave her a smile. “Why don’t you do that?”
Erica Sharp ran back into her office and I left for home. Ardal was
waiting in the truck and I had packing to do.

Nine Hemlock Way. Elgin.

When I got home, I made notes on the case for Farrell. He wasn’t
going to be happy with me leaving town again and especially to help
Rufin Pictou.
Farrell’s opinion of Rufin was scraping close to the bottom of the
barrel and Farrell would protest loudly against my helping him.
But Misty was my boss in my other world—my magick world—and
there was no way I could say no to her.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 FRIED PARSLEY.

When the parsley has been prepared as for crisping, and is quite
dry, throw it into plenty of lard or butter, which is on the point of
boiling; take it up with a skimmer the instant it is crisp, and drain it on
a cloth spread upon a sieve reversed, and placed before the fire.
 MILD MUSTARD.

Mustard for instant use should be mixed with milk, to which a

spoonful or two of very thin cream may be added.
 MUSTARD THE COMMON WAY.

The great art of mixing mustard is to have it perfectly smooth, and

of a proper consistency. The liquid with which it is moistened should
be added to it in small quantities, and the mustard should be well
rubbed, and beaten with a spoon. Mix half a teaspoonful of salt with
two ounces of the flour of mustard, and stir to them by degrees
sufficient boiling water to reduce it to the appearance of a thick
batter: do not put it into the mustard-glass until it is cold. Some
persons like a half-teaspoonful of sugar in the finest powder mixed
with it. It ought to be sufficiently diluted always to drop easily from
the spoon; and to bring it to this state more than a quarter of a pint,
and less than half a pint of liquid will be needed for four ounces of
the best Durham mustard.
For Tartar mustard see Chapter VII.
 FRENCH BATTER.

(For frying vegetables, and for apple, peach, or orange fritters.)

Cut a couple of ounces of good butter into small bits, pour on it
less than a quarter of a pint of boiling water, and when it is dissolved
add three quarters of a pint of cold water, so that the whole shall not
be quite milk warm; mix it then by degrees and very smoothly with
twelve ounces of fine dry flour and a small pinch of salt if the batter
be for fruit fritters, but with more if for meat or vegetables. Just
before it is used, stir into it the whites of two eggs beaten to a solid
froth; but previously to this, add a little water should it appear too
thick, as some flour requires more liquid than other to bring it to the
proper consistence; this is an exceedingly light crisp batter, excellent
for the purposes for which it is named.
Butter, 2 oz.; water, from 3/4 to nearly 1 pint; little salt; flour, 3/4 lb.;
whites of 2 eggs, beaten to snow.
 TO PREPARE BREAD FOR FRYING FISH.

Cut thick slices from the middle of a loaf of light stale bread, pare
the crust entirely from them, and dry them gradually in a cool oven
until they are crisp quite through; let them become cold, then roll or
beat them into fine crumbs, and keep them in a dry place for use. To
strew over hams or cheeks of bacon, the bread should be left all
night in the oven, which should be sufficiently heated to brown, as
well as to harden it: it ought indeed to be entirely converted into
equally-coloured crust. It may be sifted through a dredging-box on to
the hams after it has been reduced almost to powder.
 BROWNED FLOUR FOR THICKENING SOUPS AND GRAVIES.

Spread it on a tin or dish and colour it, without burning, in a gentle

oven or before the fire in a Dutch or American oven: turn it often, or
the edges will be too much browned before the middle is enough so.
This, blended with butter, makes a convenient thickening for soups
or gravies of which it is desirable to deepen the colour; and it
requires less time and attention than the French roux of page 10.
 FRIED BREAD-CRUMBS.

Grate lightly into very fine crumbs four ounces of stale bread, and
shake them through a cullender;[59] without rubbing or touching
them with the hands. Dissolve two ounces of fresh butter in a frying-
pan, throw in the crumbs, and stir them constantly over a moderate
fire, until they are all of a clear golden colour; lift them out with a
skimmer, spread them on a soft cloth, or upon white blotting paper,
laid upon a sieve reversed, and dry them before the fire. They may
be more delicately prepared by browning them in a gentle oven
without the addition of butter.
59. This is not necessary when they are lightly and finely grated of uniform size.
Bread, 4 oz.; butter, 2 oz.
 FRIED BREAD FOR GARNISHING.

Cut the crumb of a stale loaf in slices a quarter of an inch thick;

form them into diamonds or half diamonds, or shape them with a
paste-cutter in any another way; fry them in fresh butter, some of a
very pale brown and others a deeper colour; dry them well, and
place them alternately round the dish that is to be garnished. They
may be made to adhere to the edge of the dish when they are
required for ornament only, by means of a little flour and white of egg
brushed over the side which is placed on it: this must be allowed to
dry before they are served.
For Sweet-pudding Sauces, see Chapter XX.
 CHAPTER VI.

Cold Sauces, Salads, etc.

 SUPERIOR MINT-SAUCE.

(To serve with lamb.)

The mint for this sauce should be fresh and young, for when old it is
tough and indigestible. Strip the leaves from the stems, wash them
with great nicety, and drain them on a sieve, or dry them in a cloth;
chop them very fine, put them into a sauce-tureen, and to three
heaped tablespoonsful of the mint add two of pounded sugar; let
them remain a short time well mixed together, then pour to them
gradually six tablespoonsful of good vinegar. The sauce thus made
is excellent, and far more wholesome than when a larger proportion
of vinegar and a smaller one of sugar is used for it; but, after the first
trial, the proportions can easily be adapted to the taste of the eaters.
 COMMON MINT-SAUCE.

Two tablespoonsful of mint, one large tablespoonful of pale brown

sugar, well mixed together, and a quarter of a pint of vinegar, stirred
until the sugar is entirely dissolved.
 STRAINED MINT SAUCE.

Persons with whom the mint in substance disagrees can have the
flavour of the herb without it, by mixing the ingredients of either of
the preceding receipts, and straining the sauce after it has stood for
two or three hours; the mint should be well pressed when this is
done. The flavour will be the more readily extracted if the mint and
sugar are well mixed, and left for a time before the vinegar is added.
 FINE HORSERADISH SAUCE.

(To serve with cold, roast, stewed, or boiled beef.)

The root for this excellent sauce should be young and tender, and
grated down on a very fine bright grater, quite to a pulp, after it has
been washed, wiped, and scraped free from the outer skin. We have
given the proportions for it in the preceding chapter, but repeat them
here.
Horseradish, 2 heaped tablespoonsful; salt, 1 moderate
teaspoonful; rich cream, 4 tablespoonsful; good vinegar, 3
dessertspoonsful (of which one may be chili vinegar when the root is
mild.) When the other ingredients are smoothly mingled, the vinegar
must be stirred briskly to them in very small portions. A few drops of
garlic or shalot vinegar can be added to them when it is liked.
 COLD MAÎTRE D’HÔTEL, OR STEWARD’S SAUCE.

Work well together until they are perfectly blended, two or three
ounces of good butter, some pepper, salt, minced parsley, and the
strained juice of a sound lemon of moderate size. The sauce thus
prepared is often put into broiled fish; and laid in the dish under
broiled kidneys, beef-steaks, and other meat.
For 2 oz. butter, 1 heaped teaspoonful young minced parsley; juice
of 1 lemon; 1 small saltspoonful salt; seasoning of white pepper.
Obs.—The proportion of parsley may be doubled when a larger
quantity is liked: a little fine cayenne would often be preferred to the
pepper.
 COLD DUTCH OR AMERICAN SAUCE, FOR SALADS OF
DRESSED VEGETABLES, SALT FISH, OR HARD EGGS.

Put into a saucepan three ounces of good butter very smoothly

blended with a quite small teaspoonful of flour, and add to them a
large wineglassful of cold water, half as much sharp vinegar (or very
fresh, strained, lemon-juice) a saltspoonful of salt, and half as much
cayenne in fine powder. Keep these shaken briskly round, or stirred
over a clear fire, until they form a smooth sauce and boil rapidly;
then stir them very quickly to the beaten yolks of four fresh eggs,
which will immediately give the sauce the consistence of custard;
pour it hot over the salad, and place it on ice, or in a very cool larder
until it is quite cold: if properly made, it will be very thick and smooth,
and slightly set, as if it contained a small portion of isinglass. A
dessertspoonful of parsley,—or of tarragon,—can be mingled with it
at pleasure, or any flavour given to it with store-sauces which is
liked. It converts flakes of salt-fish, sliced potatoes (new or old), and
hard eggs, into excellent salads.
 ENGLISH SAUCE FOR SALAD, COLD MEAT, OR COLD FISH.

The first essential for a smooth, well-made English salad dressing

is to have the yolks of the eggs used for it sufficiently hard to be
reduced easily to a perfect paste. They should be boiled at least
fifteen minutes, and should have become quite cold before they are
taken from the shells; they should also be well covered with water
when they are cooked, or some parts of them will be tough, and will
spoil the appearance of the sauce by rendering it lumpy, unless they
be worked through a sieve, a process which is always better avoided
if possible. To a couple of yolks broken up and mashed to a paste
with the back of a wooden spoon, add a small saltspoonful of salt, a
large one of pounded sugar, a few grains of fine cayenne, and a
teaspoonful of cold water; mix these well, and stir to them by
degrees a quarter of a pint of sweet cream; throw in next, stirring the
sauce briskly, a tablespoonful of strong chili vinegar, and add as
much common or French vinegar as will acidulate the mixture
agreeably. A tablespoonful of either will be sufficient for many tastes,
but it is easy to increase the proportion when more is liked. Six
tablespoonsful of olive oil, of the purest quality, may be substituted
for the cream: it should be added in very small portions to the other
ingredients, and stirred briskly as each is added until the sauce
resembles custard. When this is used, the water should be omitted.
The piquancy of this preparation—which is very delicate, made by
the directions just given—may be heightened by the addition of a
little eschalot vinegar, Harvey’s sauce, essence of anchovies, French
mustard, or tarragon vinegar; or by bruising with the eggs a morsel
of garlic, half the size of a hazel-nut: it should always, however, be
rendered as appropriate as may be to the dish with which it is to be
served.
Obs. 1.—As we have before had occasion to remark, garlic, when
very sparingly and judiciously used, imparts a remarkably fine savour
to a sauce or gravy, and neither a strong nor a coarse one, as it does
when used in larger quantities. The veriest morsel (or, as the French
call it, a mere soupçon) of the root, is sufficient to give this agreeable
piquancy, but unless the proportion be extremely small, the effect will
be quite different. The Italians dress their salads upon a round of
delicately toasted bread, which is rubbed with garlic, saturated with
oil, and sprinkled with cayenne, before it is laid into the bowl: they
also eat the bread thus prepared, but with less of oil, and untoasted
often, before their meals, as a digester.
Obs. 2.—French vinegar is so infinitely superior to English in
strength, purity, and flavour, that we cannot forbear to recommend it
in preference for the use of the table. We have for a long time past
been supplied with some of most excellent quality (labelled Vinaigre
de Bordeaux) imported by the Messrs. Kent & Sons, of Upton-on-
Severn, who supply it largely, we believe, both to wholesale and
retail venders in town and country.
 THE POET’S RECEIPT FOR SALAD.[60]
60. Note.—This receipt, though long privately circulated amongst the friends and
acquaintance of its distinguished and regretted author, now (with permission)
appears for the first time in print. We could not venture to deviate by a word
from the original, but we would suggest, that the mixture forms almost a
substitute for salad, instead of a mere dressing. It is, however, an admirable
compound for those to whom the slight flavouring of onion is not an
objection.

“Two large potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve

Unwonted softness to the salad give;
Of mordent mustard, add a single spoon,
Distrust the condiment which bites so soon;
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault,
To add a double quantity of salt;
Three times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown,
And once with vinegar, procured from town;
True flavour needs it, and your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two well-boiled eggs;
Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl,
And, scarce suspected, animate the whole;
And lastly, in the flavoured compound toss
A magic teaspoon of anchovy sauce:
Then, though green turtle fail, though venison’s tough,
And ham and turkey are not boiled enough,
Serenely full, the epicure may say—
Fate cannot harm me,—I have dined to-day.”

Two well-boiled potatoes, passed through a sieve; a teaspoonful of

mustard; two teaspoonsful of salt; one of essence of anchovy; about
a quarter of a teaspoonful of very finely-chopped onions, well bruised
into the mixture; three tablespoonsful of oil; one of vinegar; the yolks
of two eggs, hard boiled. Stir up the salad immediately before dinner,
and stir it up thoroughly.
N.B.—As this salad is the result of great experience and reflection,
it is hoped young salad makers will not attempt to make any
improvements upon it.
 SAUCE MAYONNAISE.

(For salads, cold meat, poultry, fish, or vegetables.)

This is a very fine sauce when all the ingredients used for it are
good; but it will prove an uneatable compound to a delicate taste
unless it be made with oil of the purest quality.
Put into a large basin the yolks only of two very fresh eggs,
carefully freed from specks, with a little salt and cayenne; stir these
well together, then add about a teaspoonful of the purest salad oil,
and work the mixture round with a wooden spoon until it appears like
cream. Pour in by slow degrees nearly half a pint of oil, continuing at
each interval to work the sauce as at first until it resumes the
smoothness of cream, and not a particle of the oil remains visible;
then add a couple of tablespoonsful of plain French or of tarragon
vinegar, and one of cold water to whiten the sauce. A bit of clear veal
jelly the size of an egg will improve it greatly. The reader who may
have a prejudice against the unboiled eggs which enter into the
composition of the Mayonnaise, will find that the most fastidious
taste would not detect their being raw, if the sauce be well made;
and persons who dislike oil may partake of it in this form, without
being aware of its presence, provided always that it be perfectly
fresh, and pure in flavour, for otherwise it will be easily perceptible.
Yolks of fresh unboiled eggs, 2; salt, 1/2 saltspoonful, or rather
more; cayenne; oil, full third of pint; French or tarragon vinegar, 2
tablespoonsful; cold water, 1 tablespoonful; meat jelly (if at hand),
size of an egg.