Mystery Dinners

by J.W. Davis

7/28/30

-A STAINED GLASS-

The flames of the candles always burned brighter on a Friday night at Charlie’s house. I can’t explain it; maybe it was an imported candle’s wick, and we don’t have them in the United States, but I don’t care too much. Charlie traveled for work, so I wouldn’t put it past him to have a special candle that burned brighter when the sun went down, or maybe it was the red wine I had in my system.

The whole house had the intoxicating aroma of roasted chicken and potatoes. It was a specialty of Charlie’s, and I tucked my napkin into my collar when he told me the menu for the night. 

“Almost ready,” Charlie called. His head poked out from around the corner. His bright pink apron made the burly man look a lot softer than he was. 

I leaned back in my chair and gave him a nod. He disappeared back behind the wall, and a cacophony of metals clanged from within.

My eyes darted to the corner, waiting for Charlie to ask for my help since he was one of the clumsiest men I knew, but more sounds came, and no Charlie, so I stayed in my seat and took another large swig of wine. 

“Hey, I hoped I didn’t have to ask this, but can I get a hand?” I slowly got up and made my way to the kitchen, where I was surprised by the state of the room. It was spotless. 

“I thought it was going to be a war zone in here,” I said. “When did you learn how to clean up after yourself?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny. Now get over here and help me.” Charlie was heaving the large pan, which held an entire chicken. 

I grabbed the other side and we lifted it onto the hot pads. “When you get weak?” 

“Hey, I pulled my arm lifting. Give me a break.” Charlie wiped his forehead. “Okay, wanna top up?”

“Huh?” 

“Wine,” he said, waving a bottle in my face. 

“Yeah, sure. Glass is on the table.”

Charlie disappeared, and I took it upon myself to start carving the chicken and dishing out the potatoes onto a separate platter. When all was finished, Charlie reappeared and gave me a firm smack on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, pal,” he said. “Grab the potatoes, would ya?” 

I obliged and took the plate into the dining room, setting it down next to the still-steaming chicken. 

“So, grace?” Charlie raised his eyebrows. 

I smiled. “Alright, bow your head. Dear Lord, thank you for the time I have with Charlie, and please let this food be a blessing to our bodies in your service. Amen.” 

“No, ‘how thankful you are for me?’ Now, I can’t eat.” He folded his arms in a huff. 

“Oh, shut up and eat.” 

“Let me know how it tastes.” 

“Charlie, every time I eat this, I say the same thing. It’s amazing.” I jabbed the serving fork into a few pieces of chicken and transferred them to my plate. I scooped up some potatoes and dropped them next to the cooked poultry.

“Yeah, I know, but I added something different.” I clutched my chest. “YOU CHANGED YOUR RECIPE!” I pushed the plate away. “I can’t eat it then.” 

Charlie mocked my actions neatly. “It’s better now.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” I stuck a few pieces of chicken into my mouth, and I had to stop breathing for a moment.

It was heaven on earth, it was. It wasn’t amazing. It was world-changing. Okay, I’m exaggerating, but if you had this chicken in your mouth, you’d say the same thing. 

“It…it…is so much better,” I said, my voice soft. 

Charlie winked. “Told you.” 

“What did you change?” 

“If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret recipe anymore.” He shook his head with a disdained look on his face. 

“Hey, we’ve been friends for twenty-three years. I think it’s time you let me in on the secret.” 

“Okay, fine.” He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. “You gotta lean in.” 

I rolled my eyes, but did as he asked. We got so close I could smell the wine on his breath as he came up to my ear. I don’t know why finding this out was the most important thing right now, but it’d been so many years of me asking, and it seemed I got him in the right moment—when wine encompasses the mind.He opened his mouth, and the foulest, hottest burp hit my ear. I slammed back into my chair and threw an extra napkin at him. “Idiot.” 

“You’ll never know,” Charlie smirked.

I’m unsure whether it was the burp, the force of my slamming back into my chair when I recoiled, or something else, but my stomach didn’t feel right. 

It gurgled and then bubbled with a sickly turn. “I don’t want this to come out as though your food is making me sick, but…” I bent over myself as I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen. 

“Oh, it wasn’t the food.” Charlie took a large gulp of wine. “It must’ve been the wine.” His entire face had gone from his normal placid to a dark stare highlighted ever so nicely by the candlelight.

“What?” I asked from my hunched state. “What do you mean? Tastes…” —I felt another lurch inside my stomach— “fine.” 

“I mean, it wouldn’t taste funny. That was the point. If you could taste the poison, then you’d stop drinking it. I needed you to drink a good bit.” Charlie slowly stood from the table, tossing his napkin onto his plate. “I’d rather hoped you could’ve started dying until after we finished the meal, though. You always were too fast for your good.” 

“You…poisoned…me?” My arm seized up along with my legs. 

“I had to. The boss couldn’t have you and your little cohort ruining our missions anymore.” “Your missions?”

There’s a detail I left out of this that you should be aware of. I am an agent for an organization that deals with international conspiracies and certain unlawful acts, such as assassinations and political intrigue. Still, since I’m dying, I can’t go into further detail. 

“You're a black hawk?” I managed through the muscle contractions throughout my body. 

“Bingo, old buddy.” Charlie patted my back. “Within a minute, you’re lungs will lose control and give up. Don’t worry, we have a special way of disposing of your body.” He winked again. 

“You…” I failed to form the words I had in mind. 

“Lie down. It’ll be easier that way.” Charlie went to grab my arms, but I had enough in me to push him back. Charlie hit the edge of the table and went down, grasping at the spot it hit. 

“Well, I would do that if I were going to die,” I said. I cleared my throat and grabbed my wine glass. I threw it back and downed the whole thing. “You see, I’ve known about you and your other hawks for a long time. It was only a matter of time before you figured out I was your opposition.” 

Charlie’s face went pale, and his body went rigid before relaxing. “You…” 

“Yes, I switched the glasses. Old trick in the book, huh?” I squatted near him. He kicked out a leg, but it contracted on him, and he cried out in pain. “I’ve seen this poison plenty, so it was only a matter of time before it kicked in on you and I could drop my dying act.” 

“You won’t get away…with…this.” Charlie’s jaw clenched after every word. 

I smiled. “Seems the speech is going. Lie down. It helps.” I patted his stomach. “Oh, and I know what the secret ingredient is.” I leaned into his ear and whispered it. 

His eyes went wide. “How…did…you…?” 

“It’s my job to know.” I stood up and fetched his glass. I headed to the kitchen and dumped the wine out, only to find a plastic bag. I closed the wine glass and put it in my bag, which I had left out in the hall. 

I opened my phone and dialed. The person on the other side picked up. “Hey. Yeah, it’s done. No. Yes, I can wait for them. No, I’m not bringing the chicken with me.” I ended the call and slipped my phone back into my bag.

I slung it over my shoulder and opened the front door, and the cold winter air smacked me in the face. “Finally, I can breathe. I've always hated those horrid candles.”