Murder on the Menu

by Jerri George

  Tightening up on the wheel and slamming on the brakes, she decided to end this chase once and for all, but the other driver at a near crawl, revved his engine and collided once again with their bumper. This time their wheels skated and abruptly left the embankment. Their car caught air along with everything not bolted down–her purse, their map, coffee cups, and camera–as if they were astronauts in orbit.

  A snow-laden, tree-filled landscape reflected in their high beams with only an abyss below. It seemed the SUV forever was airborne, but time didn’t tick by on the digital dashboard clock. A distinct whoosh from the free-spinning tires could be heard, otherwise there was nothing but an eerie absence of sound, a hush suspended over the dark valley below as the void prepared to accept them.

  It felt like skiing. The familiar downhill rush, exhilarating yet frightening. Pine limbs, blanketed by snow, snapped as they passed. Fresh powder piled high surrounded them while village lights twinkled below. The tires found temporary footing, catching each mogul and landing hard, causing her head to hit the roof and in rapid succession. She gnashed her teeth together. Dazed and out of focus in a surreal state of mind, Cynthia came to a realization that the trees, snow, empty abyss, mangled metal, and their bodies would soon become one.

  The sheer bulk of the SUV had caused them to pick up speed as it tumbled down the mountainside, end over end, then side over side, barreling out of control. Her stomach pitching at a rollercoaster clip, Cynthia raised her hands to wipe her tears only to find them mixed with blood and a bone protruding from her right wrist. In that split second, she yearned for unconsciousness as she reached for Brad. Not us, not now. Why?

  With her daughter present in her mind’s eye, her thoughts filled with a mother’s angst. The bottom of the mountain materialized. The crash was significant and final. The stillness of a dark winter night once again enveloped the valley.

  Chapter 2

  Dan Kane walked slowly into the kitchen of his fashionable Key West townhome elevated above the tropical waters. His muscular arms slung across his chest, hands clasping elbows, almost hugging his large frame. Broad across his shoulders and neck, and narrow in the hips, many people saw him as an imposing figure. It was his mannerisms that softened this demeanor. The way he paused and drew in a breath between phrases, his clever wit and propitious winks worked well on the ladies. At this moment though, no charm was exhibited, only concern darkened his steely blue eyes.

  “Jesse, my brother and sister-in-law are missing.”

  “What? Dios Mio!” As was her habit, his chef, housekeeper, and confidant for many years had just put the finishing touches on the dinner dishes and set the automatic coffee pot. The retro 50’s tile countertops and stainless-steel appliances gleamed. The louvered blinds were drawn, obstructing the view of the Gulf of Mexico from the window, but the setting sun shone brightly enough to seep in around the edges and reveal the concern on her face.

  “The police station in Breckenridge got a call from their factory here in Miami. No one has seen or heard from them since the night before last. They were supposed to return to work today but never made it in.” He drew in a breath, and his shoulders heaved. He sat down at the cold metal kitchen table. Although it was decorated in bright yellow with touches of red, the room seemed dim.

  “They told me there’s been no sign of them since Saturday night. According to security, they skied the whole day and left after dinner. The airline shows they had reservations to fly out of Denver into Miami on a red-eye, but there’s no indication of them cancelling and no record of them on the plane. The most puzzling part is they haven’t made contact with Candace.”

  “Oh no, Mr. Dan! I canno’ believe that they would not call her unless something was terribly wrong,” she spoke in fractured English, rolling her ‘r’s. A frown crinkled her tan and weathered face which suddenly looked older than her forty-two years. Her generous physique seemed to shrink within the folds of her chef’s jacket as she collapsed into a chair. He watched as she pressed her palm flat to her chest and grasped the small ornate cross she wore around her neck.

  “Exactly. That’s my concern. Brad and I lost our father when we were just kids. If something’s happened to them, I don’t know what Candace will do.” He reached across the kitchen table to place a hand reassuringly on hers. The kitchen fell silent. A tear trickled down Jesse’s cheek.

  Dan had hired Jessica Alvarez when she was employed as the head chef at a popular Mexican restaurant in Denver. A regular customer, Dan was so seduced by her cooking that he stood up one house-packed Saturday night broadcasting his intentions. With a belly full of her pork tamales and a few too many margaritas, he asked them to raise their glasses and join him in a toast to his new executive chef. Dan Kane knew what he wanted and had the money to make it happen.

  “Do you want my help to pack a bag, señor?” A term she used more in endearment than in title. “Will you go to Denver now or in the morning?” She slowly rose, the metal legs of the red vinyl chair scuffed across the black and white checkered tile floor. Characteristically adjusting the waist of her houndstooth pants, and smoothing her coffee colored hair with both palms to make certain it was still in a severe bun, she took a tissue from her pocket and wiped both eyes.

  “No, not Colorado…not just yet, the police are combing the area in search of their car and anyone who may have seen them recently. But I think I should send for Candace. If they don’t come up with something, or when they do, she should be here with me, with us.” He searched her face.

  “Sí, yes, muy bueno. I think she will like that. She can cook with me, we can shop and go to the beach, and if…” She stopped.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” he said, picking up where she left off and locking in on her gaze. He didn’t want to acknowledge what he guessed was her next thought. “I know we have the investor’s barbeque tomorrow night, and it’s a lot of work, but if you don’t mind having her around, I think I’ll send my car for Candace tonight.”

  Without waiting for Jesse’s answer, one she didn’t need to give, he pulled a small piece of paper from his pocket and focused on the scrawled words. “I guess she’s staying with friends near their house in Miami Shores.” Drawing another deep breath, he quietly added, “Jesse, I’m glad you’re here.” He rose, hugged her around the shoulders and strode off toward the study.

  Dan’s study was actually one of four bedrooms in a two-story townhouse supported by stilts off the southwest Florida coast. A vacation home for entertaining clients, it offered a breathtaking view of the gulf. The investment banker had always been drawn to water. Raised near the ocean in a small coastal Massachusetts town, he and his younger brother spent memorable days on the beaches of Cape Cod. After their father died, the boys moved with their mother to a different shore–south Florida. The brochures had described it “where the sand is silky and the waters are warm as a bathtub year ‘round.”

  This home and his Breckenridge condo were two favorites for spending what little time he had with family, most of it commandeered by skiing--—either down a mountain or behind a speedboat.

  His hand shook as he made the call. He had no idea what to say to Candace. An adept communicator on many fronts, he found dealing with young people a challenge. Candace, or CJ, as he often called her, had become the exception to the rule. She had wormed her way into his heart from the moment she was born.

  He would do anything for her. But, what if the unimaginable loomed ahead…?

  Chapter 3

  Candace soon discovered her parent’s will gave her uncle Dan full custody and guardianship until she turned 21. She moved from her home in Miami Shores, and all of her personal stuff was stored while she stayed with Uncle Dan in the Keys until he sent her away to school. She thought it was bad enough to go to a brand-new school and be forced to make new friends, but sending her to an all-girls boarding school was just mean.

  “My mom would never have done this to me,” she insisted, standing on the deck of her uncle's tow
nhouse, arms crossed in front of her locked in anger, the only feeling she was able to express. She studied the ocean searching for some comfort in the expanse of water.

  Dan pleaded his case. “I know you need time, CJ, and I want to do right by you, but my life has no room for a young girl full time.”

  The police report and the insurance policies used words “common calamity” to explain what had put them in this situation, but for her it meant more than losing both parents. She was losing everything. What did he know anyhow? He only had one sibling growing up and he was a boy. She had overheard him tell his attorney in secret that he wasn’t prepared for hormones, tears and growing breasts. Really? It was no picnic for Candace either. An only child had a closer, more intense relationship with her parents. She was Daddy’s little girl and could throw a ball dead center and wrestle without crying. As Mom’s best friend, there was clothes shopping, painted fingernails and sweet smelling everything. Cooking and baking, even when trying to diet, entertaining and smiling, even with menstrual cramps, and swimming in the hot Florida sun with skin that boiled like live lobster. Today she felt like tossing a ball around with her dad, and she wanted to talk to her mom. Especially about what Uncle was proposing. This was the first time she had to negotiate without advice, make a deal with him and show him her Kane business skills.

  “Look at this place.” He waved his arm broadly. “It’s a tropical bachelor pad on stilts, sitting atop the Gulf of Mexico with a fully stocked bar. This place is no place for a teenage girl to grow up.”

  “But, Uncle, I won't be any trouble. I can move in with one of my friends from school—and go back to my school. I can see you on breaks. Please don’t make me move away.” Candace was distraught. “I can’t believe you’re sending me to a boarding school!”

  “Candace, your dad and mom entrusted me with a great responsibility. Now don't get me wrong, I’m honored with the task of raising you in their stead, but I’ve never been a parent, never even been married, and I don't know anything about raising a young lady.”

  Her voice was almost shrill. A look of abject torture crossed her face. “But I won't know anyone. I already lost Mom and Dad. Now you want me to lose everyone else?”

  “CJ, I'm afraid you’re going to need to adjust to a move one way or the other. I can't live in Miami Shores. I don't have that kind of life. I travel all the time,” he said.

  “I know, but I love my school! Why did this have to happen?” She stomped one foot and turned her head briskly away from her uncle to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks. Candace stared out at the expanse of clear aqua-colored water searching for a lifeboat, but only hungry pelicans were on the edge of the dock, looking for discarded scraps that collected against the pilings.

  “I don't know the answer to that question, honey. But I know I can't very well drag you all over the world or have a tutor in every city. It would make your life so tough. Your parents’ wish, if anything were ever to happen to them, was for you to complete school in a very secure, stable environment. I don't know why they chose me, God knows, but your life isn’t a poker game.” He touched her arm pulling her to him and tried to catch her eye.

  She felt like he was reeling in a prized catch; she gulped air in desperation like a dying fish through gills.

  “I'll tell you what, let's compromise,” he finally said. “You go to this private school, which came highly recommended by the way, ‘til the end of the year. Give me time to find a suitable place for us to live while you finish. Maybe I can see what settling down on the ranch looks like, and in the meantime, if you find you like it at the school you can stay. If you hate it like you think you will, you need only to endure one more move, but we will settle down somewhere…deal?”

  “You mean it?” She sniffled and looked up with heavy tear-soaked lashes—the same long lashes her mom had possessed. “Together? Just the two of us?”

  “Well, us and Jesse...you don't want us to starve, do you?” He gave her a big warm toothy smile that was so much like her dad's. He even had the same small gap between his front teeth, the one she had hoped to get braces for someday. It would forever remind her of her father.

  Chapter 4

  The racket of pots clanging, dishes being scraped and stacked, and the mere hustle and bustle in the kitchen, made it hard for Candace to hear her cell phone ring. Luckily, she felt it vibrate in her apron pocket. Pulling it out quickly, she looked at its screen and read the number display. It was the landline at the ranch. Uncle Dan wouldn’t be calling at this hour if it wasn’t really important. Since the day her parents died nearly 15 years ago, he rarely let one go by without touching base. But so late?

  “Hello…” Candace could barely hear over the din and stepped onto the terrace. There was static on the other end of the line, no doubt caused by a lack of signal at the mountain lake house where the reception was taking place. It had been three years since she’d started her catering business after working professionally for some top Denver companies, culinary school and time in France. She never tired of working venues with statuesque peaks as their backdrop. Rows of trees climbed the mountainside like armies of candlesticks. In the winter they were laden with snow, but in the summertime every needle on each branch could be seen in the moonlight like fanned peacock feathers. A fragrant cloak of pine and birch filled the night air.

  “Hello?” Uncle Dan’s normally booming voice was a breathless whisper. “I need you to come down to the ranch now, tonight… I…”

  The line disconnected.

  “Uncle Dan? Uncle DAN?” she said louder the second time.

  CJ wiped her hands on her apron as she cradled the phone between her cheek and shoulder and then allowed it to slide down the sleeve of her crisp white coat. Catching it, she pushed redial. The call linked straight to voicemail. CJ gingerly inserted her body through the French doors at the opposite end of the patio and scanned the ballroom for Anton while trying to remain inconspicuous. Surrounded by pine walls and floors and panoramic windows that framed the lake beyond, it was a place where brides could add their own touches. That evening the room was draped in cream-colored lace with touches of roses and baby’s breath.

  Candace and her Russian partner, Anton Yermilov, were a popular Denver catering duo who often worked in mountain locations late into the night. Focused on breaking down the evening’s buffet in preparation for the bride and groom to make their exit, Anton was instructing servers from least thirty feet away. She pushed the button to send her call again and it went straight to voicemail. What was Uncle Dan trying to tell her? Was she disconnected from his end or was it the poor signal here? She had to get him back on the line.

  I need to tell him where I am and that I can’t possibly get to the ranch for at least four hours, even if I leave right away. She ran her dainty but calloused fingers through her hair, tousling her bangs and frowned, turning her otherwise smooth complexion into a forehead full of tiny wrinkles. CJ bit her lower lip in thought and drew a tentative breath. She ducked back onto the patio away from the eighty or so guests that remained.

  Her uncle’s ranch was just outside Gallegos, New Mexico. He would know better than anyone that taking a plane would serve no purpose. Even if she could get a private one at this hour, there would be no car at the other end and no transportation services operated within miles of the closest airport.

  Anton came up stealthily behind her, pulled her to him, cradled her in his arms and whispered, “Come, let me steal you away from this place, my lovely кукла.” Nuzzling her neck, his teeth pulled at a spray of her reddish blonde hair. He tugged at the hand which still clutched her phone and twirled her around as if dancing. “It is time for our escape, ha ha!” He flashed a grin and made a grand sweeping gesture with his other arm like Prince Charming leading the way.

  Nearly twenty-five, lean and tall with a body that could rival Baryshnikov in his heyday, Anton was wiry and quick on his feet. Like many young Russian men, he possessed an angular jaw and high cheekbones. H
is cropped chestnut brown hair and expressive ice blue eyes proved a handsome combination, and it was easy to see why women were attracted to him. Even Candace was not immune. At six-foot-five he towered over the kitchen staff which made taking command easy, and take command he did.

  One good thing about Anton as she had told her uncle after their first job together was his apparent obliviousness to his God-given magnetism. When he worked, he was focused and intent on the fine art of preparation. Every minute detail was to be precisely carried out or heads would roll, but when he relaxed, he had an easy-going manner and an unexpected bawdy sense of humor that showed up routinely.

  “Anton!” With her voice at an uneasy pitch, she reeled around stopping him mid-gesture. “Uncle just called, I don’t know why, but he…he sounded upset, out of breath. He asked me to come to the ranch right away, and then we were cut off!” She was worried.

  Anton’s accent charmed each syllable as it left his lips. He focused on her intently. “CJ, calm down. Tell me, what did he say, exactly?”

  She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. Her small frame was dwarfed beneath even the smallest chef’s jacket typically cut for a man’s physique. “I don’t know exactly, he said he needed me to come. He was whispering, and it was so noisy with the DJ. The phone had a terrible connection. I think it’s from being up here in the mountains. Anyway, after just a few words…it went dead. I’ve tried to get him back three times, but it goes straight to voicemail. Anton, he’s never called this late, you know that.”

  “I do know that he would not want you to worry so much. I am sure he is probably fine. He maybe wanted you to call him back…after.” His voice was calm and even, although the circumstances were unusual.

  “After? After what?” she responded impatiently. “I just think something is really wrong.”