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you?”
    “I want to see justice done,” Phyllis said, “and I have a feeling that so far, maybe it hasn’t been.”
    ••●••
    Carolyn had already started lunch, bacon tomato pie, along with a spinach salad that included chunks of pear, bleu cheese crumbles, walnuts, and a refreshing lime dressing.
    As they sat down to eat before Phyllis and Sam pondered their next move in the case, Carolyn said, “I’ve been thinking about that magazine you work for, Phyllis.”
    “ A Taste of Texas ? What about it?”
    “Well, you know, I haven’t entered any of their recipe contests since you started writing your column.”
    Phyllis thought about it and realized her friend was right. If Carolyn had come up with a recipe she liked well enough to enter in a contest, she would have said something about it, and she hadn’t.
    “I’m sorry,” Phyllis said instantly, feeling a bit guilty because she hadn’t noticed. “You haven’t stopped entering because of me, have you?”
    “Well, I thought it would look bad and probably wouldn’t even be allowed. You know, all sorts of contests and sweepstakes have fine print about how employees of the company sponsoring them, and even relatives of employees, are prohibited from entering. I think it may even be a law.”
    Phyllis shook her head and said, “I don’t think it’s a law. More like a policy. And we’re not related.”
    “I know that, of course. But we’re friends, and for goodness’ sake, I live in your house. If I entered a contest and won, and the connection between us got back to the magazine, we might both get in trouble.”
    “My editor knows you and I are friends,” Phyllis pointed out. “I’ve mentioned you several times in the column and used some of your recipes.”
    “I know, and I appreciate that. But I miss the competition. I like the feeling of sending something in and hoping that I might win .”
    Phyllis could understand that. For a long time, she had entered her recipes in various contests, and it was always exciting. The thrill of competition, they called it, and there was a lot of truth to that old saying.
    “After lunch—which is delicious, by the way—I’ll get one of the issues of the magazine and look at it. I really don’t think you should have to give up entering their contests because of me.”
    “Neither do I,” Sam said. “And these hot dog tacos are mighty good, by the way. I like how you can put two things together you don’t normally think of that way, and it turns out to taste great.”
    “Fusion,” Carolyn said. “Although this is a rather down to earth version of it.”
    “Whatever you call it, I like it.”
    The most recent issue of A Taste of Texas was in the living room. After cleaning up the lunch dishes, Phyllis found it and turned to the pages containing information about the current contest, which was looking for fruit pie recipes. She couldn’t find anything about friends of the magazine’s employees being prohibited from entering, or even relatives of employees.
    She pointed that out to Carolyn and said, “I promise you, I’m just a tiny fish in this pond. I couldn’t pull any strings to help you win even if I wanted to.”
    “And you don’t,” Carolyn said.
    “Of course not. We’ve both always competed fair and square.”
    “That’s the only way winning means anything.” Carolyn took another look at the magazine. “There’s still a week until the deadline for sending in entries. I’d better get busy!”
    “Do you have anything in mind?”
    “As a matter of fact, I do,” Carolyn said, but she didn’t elaborate. She’d always been tight-lipped about recipes when she was working on them, and Phyllis knew she wasn’t going to change at this late date.
    When Carolyn had gone back into the kitchen, Sam joined Phyllis in the living room.
    “Get it all squared away?” he asked.
    “I think so. She’s going to enter the current contest. I’m sorry she felt like she couldn’t do that until