Gruel and Unusual Punishment (Pennsylvania Dutch Mysteries with Recipes) [Hardcover]

Tamar Myers (Author)

Book Description

Series: Pennsylvania Dutch Mysteries with Recipes | Publication Date: February 1, 2002

In the tenth book in Myers's popular Pennsylvania Dutch mystery series, an imprisoned con man gives up the ghost after sampling one of Magdalena Yoder's most famous dishes-and lands Magdalena in the middle of a grueling mystery.

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

Though this 10th Pennsylvania Dutch mystery installment's blend of intrigue, wit and recipes will likely satisfy Myers's fans, it's unlikely to win new followers. In her latest outing, Magdalena Yoder, the Mennonite keeper of the PennDutch Inn, joins forces with the Bedford, Pa., police to investigate the death of a prisoner in the local jail. Clarence Webber, credit-fraud perp and predator of wealthy women of a certain age, has been poisoned with arsenic in a meal provided by the PennDutch Inn. Magdalena, who is anxious to clear her name, starts interviewing the visitors he had in prison, and she soon has a list of suspects, each with an ax to grind. Neglecting her inn and her newly acquired foster child to follow clues to Maryland, Magdalena throws herself wholeheartedly into solving the mystery of Clarence's death. She must be getting close, because on the return trip, someone runs her car off the road. But the resilient Magdalena wraps her broken ribs with duct tape and keeps searching for clues. Unfortunately, the characters are generally distasteful and it's Magdalena herself who's the worst. She may love one-liners there are about three per page but she's the only one laughing; she comes across as a spiteful, judgmental woman in the midst of a weak plot and a sloppy story line. Myers has, however, devised a group of recipes for grits, that staple of Southern breakfasts, that proves there can be more to gruel than meets the eye.

Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information, Inc.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

4.

A teenage girl sat slouched on one of the tall kitchen stools. I vigorously discourage children as guests-if you think celebrities are the most destructive humans, think again-so I knew the child was not in residence. She did, however, have a punk look about her, one that I've come to associate with the world of entertainment.

Her hair was an impossible shade of black, with hints of maroon, and had been sculpted into spikes about four inches long that stood straight out from her head in all directions. Her ears had been pierced an obscene amount of times and resembled more the spines of spiral notebooks than auditory appendages. Even her eyebrows had been pierced, and from a ring on the left one hung a small silver skull on a chain.

Moving down, a plump body, not yet in the full throes of adolescent development, was clad in only a tube top and black spandex shorts. The latter barely covered the region Eve made famous with her fig leaf. But Eve went barefoot, I'm sure of it, whereas this girl was wearing black platform shoes with leather straps that snaked their way about chunky calves and tied just below the knee.

The child stood when she saw me scrutinizing her. "Hey lady," she said in a flat, midwestern accent, "give those eyeballs of yours a rest." I strode over to confront her. "Who are you?" I demanded.

The girl's pale blue eyes regarded me calmly. "What's the matter, Mom? You have trouble hearing, or something? I'm your daughter."

"Not even in my worst nightmare, dear. Tell me who you really are, or I'm calling the police."

The P word made her blink. "Ain't ya the famous Magdalena Yoder?"

I'm a sucker for flattery. "Well, I guess I'm famous. I mean, Mel Gibson once referred to me-hey, let's stick with the program here!

Either you identify yourself, or I dial."

"Alison Miller," she said, enunciating with such exaggeration that I could see the metal stud in her tongue. "But call me Allie."

"Thank you. So, Alison, what are you doing in my kitchen?"

"Sheesh! You are deaf, ain't ya? How many times do I have to tell you that I'm your daughter?"

I turned helplessly to Freni. "You let her in, maybe you should explain."

Freni is seventy-three years old and has a figure that attests to her firm belief that green tomato pie counts as a vegetable. But when she wants to, that woman can move like greased lightning. One minute she was there, flapping about like a rooster, and the next thing I knew I felt the breeze on my face as the door to the dining room swung closed behind her.

"Uptight old lady, ain't she?"

I glared at the girl. "A good look at you would spook the horses, dear."

"I ain't your dear. Hey, what's with that old lady's getup, any-way? And what's with that funny little hat you got on? Youse actors of some kind?"

"Not hardly. She's an Amish lady, and I'm a Mennonite. I wear this funny little hat because I believe a woman should keep her head covered when she prays."

"You ain't praying now."

"That's what you think. Unfortunately my prayers aren't being answered."

She laughed, and I could see a second stud on her tongue. I wanted to gag.

"I haven't given up on calling the police," I said.

"Hey, come on, take a chill pill. I told you I'm your daughter, and I guess I am, because my dad is Aaron Miller. You know, the one who used to live across the road from you?"

"Aaron Miller?" If it hadn't been for the resistance offered by my thick cotton hosiery, I would have collapsed to the floor. As it was, I swayed. Like a tall, skinny tower of Pisa.

"You and him was married, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then you're my mother."

"But I never gave birth!" I wailed.

"You sure?" "I ought to be. I mean, fathers can sometimes be surprised years after the fact, but we women-"

"Hey, spare me the sex talk, lady. I know how it happens. Anyway, that don't change a thing. If you were married to my dad, then you're my mom. It's as simple as that."

"Says who?"

"Says me." There was desperation in her voice, and her face was turning red. Curiously, those areas surrounding metal were the color of cottage cheese.

"How did you get here?"

"My parents brought me."

"They're here?" I staggered to the nearest empty stool. It was almost too much effort to sit.

"Nah, not here-not at this dump, but in that little town up the road."

"Dump? Well, I'll have you know-" I caught myself. There are more important things than defending one's business, even if it is also one's residence. "Alison, are you saying that your parents are in Hernia? Where?"

"Not Hernia." She laughed. "Or Hemorrhoid, either. The other little town. The one that starts with a B."

"Bedford!"

"Uh-huh. They swung by and dropped me off. Now they're at the motel waiting for you to call. I got the number right here in my pocket."

If my blood had run any colder, I could have damaged my heart with ice crystals. It was hard to breathe.

"Hey lady, you all right?"

"I'm fine," I gasped.

Of course I wasn't. Aaron Miller-Alison's father-had been my Pooky Bear. We grew up together. Then at age eighteen, Aaron committed the ultimate act of Mennonite teenage rebellion by joining the army during the height of the Vietnam war. The moment he signed that paper the ground in Hernia literally shook, thanks to hundreds of pacifist ancestors turning over in their graves.

After the war Aaron didn't feel comfortable returning to Hernia, so he bummed around the country a bit, eventually settling in Minnesota. It wasn't until twenty-odd years later, and only when his aging, widowed father really needed him, that Aaron returned to stay. Shortly after his homecoming, I met him in the cow pasture across the road, on his farm, and promptly fell in love.

You would have too. Aaron is tall, with black hair and eyes the color of sapphires. His teeth are so white that when he smiles you have to look away or risk being blinded. His lips are like lush, ripe strawberries bursting with flavor. But more importantly, he was the most decent, kindest person I'd ever met.

I married Aaron in front of God and half of Hernia right here in my barn. We would have married in Beechy Grove Mennonite Church, but a bodacious storm blew in the night before, knocking a tree into the roof of the sanctuary. They say that what you don't know won't hurt you, but that isn't always the case. I had no idea what a naked man looked like until our wedding night, and then to suddenly see the male appendage-in all its unbridled glory-was traumatic. I still have nightmares, and Thanksgiving is forever ruined for me. I can't even look at a turkey neck now without feeling embarrassed.

But enough of that. It isn't your business anyhow. What's important for you to know is that I had absolutely no idea-not even an inkling of a hint-that my Pooky Bear had not only been married before, but was, in fact, still married. The woman-and she shall forever remain nameless as far as I am concerned- befriended him when he first moved to Minnesota. Shortly after they were married things went sour, but the marriage was never ended.

All this I learned after I'd given the man my maidenhood, making him a bigamist in the eyes of God, the law, and my neighbors. I thought then I'd heard-and seen-everything. I never dreamed there would be another shoe to drop. But apparently there was, and it was a doozy. The old woman and her kids, plus half of Hernia, could comfortably live in this one.

"Why does your father want me to call him?" My voice sounded tinny, and I wasn't sure at first I was actually speaking. I felt my lips; they were moving.

"You need to sign a consent form, that's why."

"Consent for what? He's not getting a cent of alimony. It was a phony marriage."

She laughed, treating me to yet another view of her lingual jewelry. There were actually three studs.

"You're funny, just like Dad said."

"He said that?" I shook my head vigorously to dislodge any thoughts of reconciliation. "This consent form, dear, what's it for?"

"Hey, lady, like I said, I ain't your dear. And the stupid form is about me. You gotta agree to let me stay here."

"I do? For how long?"

She shrugged.

"How long? A week? A month?"

"A year," she said quietly. "Maybe more."

"Come again?"

"They can't handle me. It was either you or the girls' detention center. You get to pick."

I felt like fainting. I needed to faint. With any luck I would hit my head on the corner of the kitchen table and knock myself utterly and permanently senseless. But alas, a good fainting spell was not to be had.

"Give me the number," I finally said. "I'll give your dad a call."

Aaron answered on the first ring. In fact, it wasn't even a full ring. He must have had his hand on the receiver.

"Mags, is that you?"

"Don't you call me Mags! Only folks I love get away with that."

"Sorry. So how are you, Magdalena?"

"Apparently doing better than you." I was calling from the privacy of my bedroom, and could have said anything I wanted.

"There's a multi-pierced urchin sitting in my kitchen who claims to be your daughter. Is this true?"

I could hear Aaron swallow. "I should have told you when you found out about my wife-I mean my other wife-but hey, you know me, Mags-I mean, Magdalena. I'm a coward."

"You got that right." I took a deep breath. "So what's this child doing in my kitchen? Is she really asking for asylum?"

"Well, it's a long story-"

"Then talk fast."

"She's fourteen, Magdalena. Well, almost. Her birthday's next month. Anyway, she hasn't adjusted at all to my moving back in with her mother. Started acting out about a year ago. At first it was small things like shoplifting candy bars and hair doodads. Then she started smoking dope. Drinking too. Last month she went all out and stole a car-a 1988 Ford Festiva! A banged-up one at that."

"For pity's sake."

"The hearing was the day before yesterday. The judge said she was reluctant to put someone that young into the system, but her hands would be tied if there was one more incide...

Product Details

• Hardcover: 240 pages
• Publisher: NAL Hardcover; First Edition edition (February 1, 2002)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 0451205081
• ISBN-13: 978-0451205087
• Product Dimensions: 8.3 x 5.7 x 1 inches
• Shipping Weight: 14.4 ounces
• Average Customer Review: 4.1 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (19 customer reviews)
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,694,243 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

More About the Author

Tamar Myers, who is of Mennonite background, is the author of the Pennsylvania Dutch mysteries and the Den of Antiquity series. Born and raised in the Congo, she lives in North Carolina.

Customer Reviews

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

9 of 9 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Another Hit for Tamar Myers' PennDutch Series!, February 19, 2002

By 

Peggy Morgan (Blacksburg, VA United States) - See all my reviews

This review is from: Gruel and Unusual Punishment (Pennsylvania Dutch Mysteries with Recipes) (Hardcover)

I love Magdalena Yoder - I admit that I'm more attracted to the quirky characters and the one-liners than to the mystery itself, but I thought the saga of the late Mr. Webber and his marital shenanigans was clever and intriguing. Magdalena's developing romance with Abe the Babe continues to fascinate; one hopes she will have better luck than she did with Aaron.

Although I followed Magdalena's investigation of the murder with interest, I was a little disappointed that the author didn't develop the relationship with Alison a little more fully - particularly since the chapter that introduced Alison was used as the "teaser" in the back of the paperback edition of The Crepes of Wrath. I was expecting more and hope Alison's story will be developed in future PennDutch Inn books.

I have read several reviews of other PennDutch Inn books in which the reviewers complained that Magdalena "wailed" too much - and indeed, she does seem to wail quite a bit. I was amused to see at least three places in Gruel and Unusual Punishment where another character said to Madgalena, "You sure do wail a lot," or words to that effect.

The only fault I will find with Gruel and Unusual Punishment is sloppy editing. Early in the first chapter, Magdalena says that she got the recipe for the shrimp and grits dish that did the unfortunate Mr. Webber in on her "vacation in Charleston, South Carolina." Later she remarks on having been to the Inland Sea in Tennessee on her "only vacation." These two statements aren't necessarily contradictory, since it would be entirely possible to visit both Charleston and the Inland Sea on the same vacation from Pennsylvania, but when Magdalena is preparing to go to Maryland in the course of her criminal investigation, she states that "the only time I'd been out of Pennsylvania was to go to Ohio." Ms. Myers' editor should have caught this.

All in all, I enjoyed Gruel and Unusual Punishment as much as I enjoyed all the other PennDutch books - which was a lot. I look forward eagerly to the next one.

3 of 3 people found the following review helpful:

3.0 out of 5 stars Light hearted and heavy handed, February 6, 2002

By 

JOHN A. BROUSSARD (Kamuela, HI USA) - See all my reviews
(REAL NAME)   

This review is from: Gruel and Unusual Punishment (Pennsylvania Dutch Mysteries with Recipes) (Hardcover)

Con man Clarence Webber has had a long and checkered career, which ends with his death by arsenic poisoning in Hernia's city jail. Magdalena Yoder becomes involved, since her inn supplies the jail's food, but it is soon evident that the poison was placed in the Shrimp and Grits (recipe provided) after the meal arrived in Webber's cell. Since the town's inept police chief is completely mystified, Magdalena volunteers to run down the perpetrator among the four persons who were known to have visited the prisoner. As she retraces Webber's trail through south central Pennsylvania and into Maryland, she soon discovers that the victim left more than empty wallets and broken hearts behind-to say nothing of a long list of individuals who had more than enough other reasons to do him in. GRUEL AND UNUSUAL PUNISHMENT is, as the title would indicate, a light-hearted novel, replete with outlandish descriptions of eccentric people. The story sometimes lapses into heavy-handed humor, but the overall effect is still a positive one. While Myers passes along more information on cooking grits than the average reader might want to know, that doesn't seriously detract from an amusing work.

2 of 2 people found the following review helpful:

5.0 out of 5 stars Another hilarious adventure!, January 29, 2002

By 

"[e-mail]" - See all my reviews

This review is from: Gruel and Unusual Punishment (Pennsylvania Dutch Mysteries with Recipes) (Hardcover)

Tamar Myers has another hit on her hands in this latest Magdalena Yoder mystery! Full of laugh-out-loud one-liners, views of a fascinating culture and just plain fun. It's almost as good as a vacation.