Book Retreat Mystery 07 - Murder in the Cookbook Nook

by Ellery Adams

  Mia continued to stare at nothing. She seemed miles away.

  Jane wanted to give Mia a little time to process her feelings before asking how Chef Pierce’s death would impact the show, so she fell silent.

  The quiet was soon broken by an alert from Mia’s cell phone. She glanced at the screen and said, “That’s Ty. I need to tell him what happened.” She started removing her curlers. “If the other chefs are okay with it, we’ll stick to our schedule. Later, we’ll add a dedication and a video montage of Chef Pierce’s career to the end of today’s episode. I think he’d like that.”

  Jane had expected Mia to cancel the show or, at the very least, postpone the filming. But seeing as the decision wasn’t hers to make, she hid her surprise and got to her feet.

  Mia dumped the rollers on the coffee table. “I think Chef Pierce would want us to keep going. He was committed to this competition.”

  “And the other chefs? Would you like me to give them the news?”

  “No, thanks. I’ll do it after breakfast,” Mia said. “Ty will handle the crew.”

  As Jane turned to leave, she noticed a laptop on the writing desk. The sight reminded her of Mia’s online presence, and of her millions of followers. “If the chefs or crewmembers have questions, please refer them to the Storyton Sheriff ’s Department. Please make it very clear to everyone involved that the public should hear about Chef Pierce’s passing from the sheriff ’s department first. No tweets or posts before the official statement has been released.”

  “Of course.”

  Jane left Mia’s suite and rushed home to shower and change into a floral skirt and a pale blue blouse. She grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl in her kitchen and ate it as she crossed the Great Lawn for the fourth time that morning.

  She’d just entered Milton’s Gardens when her phone pinged with a text from Sterling, asking her to meet him in the surveillance room.

  Before she could reply, Sterling sent another text. It said, Chef Pierce had a late-night visitor.

  Jane changed course. Instead of stopping by the kitchens to check on Mrs. Hubbard, she headed directly for the surveillance room.

  Once there, she looked at the bank of television screens and said, “Show me.”

  Sterling waited for her to sit down before pushing the space bar on his computer. The screen to Jane’s right displayed the elevator banks on the west wing’s second floor. The doors of the middle elevator slid open and Chef Pierce lurched into the hallway.

  He wobbled past the vending niche, paused to rest at the housekeeping closet, and then lumbered on to his guest room.

  “Your dinner party left the dining room around ten. The group went to the kitchens next. After being told to leave, Chef Pierce went directly to the Ian Fleming Lounge. He left the lounge around eleven thirty.”

  “Which means he drank for another hour before turning in,” Jane grumbled. “We should ask the bartenders if they saw him interacting with other guests.”

  Sterling jotted a note on a legal pad. “I’ll see to that. The next bit of footage comes from the camera positioned over the stairwell door. I know you were against placing cameras in the guest hallways, but this might convince you that it was a good call.”

  Jane held her breath and waited to see Chef Pierce’s visitor appear onscreen. Her gaze flicked to the timestamp. 11:59. A breath from midnight. Only a handful of seconds divided one day from the next—an end giving way to a beginning. Except for Chef Pierce. For him, it was the beginning of the end.

  A young woman approached the door to his guest room. She wore yoga pants and a baggy hoodie. Her hair was rose gold.

  “That’s Mia’s assistant, Bentley,” said Jane.

  Sterling pulled a face. “Like the car?”

  Jane was too focused on the screen to reply.

  Bentley used her fist to deliver three quick bangs to Chef Pierce’s door. She waited a few seconds, and then knocked again. When there was no response, she pulled out her phone. She jabbed at the screen with her index finger and put her ear to the door.

  Suddenly, she jerked backward and spoke into her phone. When she was finished, she folded her arms and glowered at the door.

  It finally opened, revealing Chef Pierce in boxer shorts, tube socks, and a grungy white T-shirt that failed to cover his belly. He squinted at Bentley through half-shuttered lids and his face made it clear that he was confused by her presence.

  Bentley pushed past him into the room. He turned to follow her, and the door swung shut.

  “I’m glad I can’t see what happened next,” said Jane.

  “It’s not what you think,” Sterling assured her. “Watch. She’s about to come back out.”

  A few minutes later, Bentley exited the room wearing a satisfied look. Whatever her aim in visiting Chef Pierce in the dead of night, she’d achieved it.

  Was this a personal errand? Or was she doing Mia’s bidding?

  Sterling paused the feed. “From here, the young lady goes straight back to her room. As for Chef Pierce, he dresses in the suit he wore to dinner and takes the elevator to the ground floor. He then disappears into the staff corridor. We can’t track him in there, but he obviously ended up in the cookbook nook.”

  “Were you able to see his face once he reached the ground floor?”

  “Not clearly. He seemed to be concentrating on not falling. He kept his eyes on the floor and his hand on the wall for balance. I haven’t completed tests on the blood sample I collected, but I know a drunk man when I see one.”

  Jane frowned. “I’ll have to ask Bentley about her visit. As much as I want to honor her privacy as a Storyton Hall guest, she was the last person to see him alive.”

  “Unless someone was waiting for him in the cookbook nook,” Sterling said in a grim voice. He tapped a screen showing the view from the loading dock door. “Your friends are here.”

  Jane watched as four of the Cover Girls, Eloise, Betty, Violet, and Mrs. Pratt, filed into Storyton Hall. Their arrival meant that it was almost time for the cookbook signing.

  Jane jumped up. “I hope Sheriff Evans calls soon. I’ll have to tell the rest of the guests about Chef Pierce, and at this point, I don’t have much information to share.”

  In the kitchens, Jane found her friends fussing over Mrs. Hubbard, which meant she’d already told them about Chef Pierce. Jane knew she should scold her head cook for having a loose tongue, but she wouldn’t.

  “No, really. I’m okay,” insisted Mrs. Hubbard. “My little retreat isn’t ruined because a famous chef spent his final moments there, but I am upset about those lovely antiques. I was going to use some of those pieces for Ms. Octavia’s eighty-fifth birthday party.”

  Jane exhaled in relief. Mrs. Hubbard had been spared the gory details of Chef Pierce’s death.

  Spotting Jane, Mrs. Hubbard pulled her in for a hug. “You poor lamb! I hear you came in before dawn. Why was Chef Pierce in the cookbook nook in the middle of the night?”

  “I don’t know,” Jane answered truthfully.

  Mrs. Hubbard tapped her temple. “I think he needed help. My cookbook collection is one-of-a-kind. There’s a culinary library in that nook. Maybe he was looking for inspiration. Or a winning recipe. And before he could pick one, his heart gave out.”

  Betty, the proprietress of the Cheshire Cat Pub, gasped. “You mean, he was going to cheat? Like, he already knew about the next challenge and wanted to prepare for it?” She turned to Jane. “What’s today’s theme?”

  “I have no idea,” said Jane. “Only Mia, the director, and their support staff know.”

  Violet sighed dreamily. “I can’t believe Mia Mallett is here. I might run a small-town salon, but I keep up with the latest beauty trends, and no one’s trendier than Mia. Her posts are so positive too. Is she sweet in real life?”

  Jane nodded. “She’s sweet, cheerful, and easy to talk to.”

  “And drop-dead gorgeous,” Violet added. “How can anyone who eats out all the time stay so thin? It’s
not fair.”

  Mrs. Hubbard cupped Violet’s cheek. “You’re perfect just as you are. And life’s too short to say no to cake.”

  “Amen!” bellowed Mrs. Pratt. The retired schoolteacher was the senior-most member of the Cover Girls, and often, the most boisterous.

  Eloise moved closer to Jane. “I’m sorry about Chef Pierce. You could have called Landon for help. I’m not moving in until after the wedding.”

  Mrs. Pratt shook her head in astonishment. “How can you spend a single night away from that man? Have I told you that your hunky fiancé looks like the lumberjack on the cover of my current read?”

  “You’ve mentioned it once or twice. You should come to the store and pick up your copy of Honor Student. That cover should make you think of Roger.”

  “I don’t need to fantasize about Roger now that he lives in Storyton. He’s been very busy with the antique store and his online classes, but we have dinner together most nights. And after dinner, we like to—”

  Jane smoothly interrupted by saying that it was time to set up the signing stations.

  The Cover Girls loaded boxes of cookbooks onto hand trucks and wheeled them into the lobby. Butterworth had positioned a row of tables and chairs outside the Madame Bovary Dining Room, and the women began arranging cookbooks on every table.

  “I bet you sell out of Chef Pierce’s right away, seeing as he’ll never sign another book,” Mrs. Pratt told Eloise.

  Violet looked scandalized. “Isn’t that a bit insensitive?”

  “I’m just stating a fact. A Man and a Pan is now a collector’s item, and I’m putting one aside for Roger.”

  Eloise promised to add it to Mrs. Pratt’s order and then returned to the task of distributing pens and bottles of water. When she was done, she stood back and surveyed their handiwork.

  “I wish I’d brought flowers. The tables look elegant but bland.”

  Jane smiled. “Your wish is my command. Be right back.”

  Mrs. Templeton, the head housekeeper, had done a wonderful job repurposing the flowers from yesterday’s challenge. She’d even put an arrangement on Jane’s desk, which Jane now divided into several mason jars.

  “How cute,” said Violet. Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Mia’s coming our way. How does my hair look? What about my face? Did I use too much shimmer powder?”

  Though she didn’t know shimmer powder from talcum powder, Jane told her friend that she was lovely and hurried forward to grab a private word with Mia.

  “How did the chefs take the news?” she asked.

  “They were pretty rattled, but we talked things out and came up with an idea,” Mia said. “We’ve decided to cut one of the challenges and use that time to honor Chef Pierce. The finale will now have three contestants instead of two.”

  “I should make sure Sheriff Evans was able to inform Chef Pierce’s family. We can’t have the audience learning of his death before they do.”

  “My team took care of that. They also told Chef Pierce’s ex-wives to contact the sheriff’s department.”

  Jane hoped Chef Pierce had more in the way of family than three ex-wives. “Was there anyone else? Parents? Kids?”

  “Two step kids, but they weren’t close to Chef Pierce.” Mia spread her hands. “His employees were his real family, which is why I called the manager. He’ll tell the staff.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “The chefs are on their way. We need to be in the kitchens, ready to film, by eleven.”

  “During lunch service?” Jane was floored. “Does Mrs. Hubbard know?”

  Mia grinned. “I hope so. She’s participating.”

  Jane wanted to pepper Mia with questions, but the chefs were heading her way. She’d have to get her answers by watching, just like everyone else.

  After showing the chefs to their seats, Jane introduced the Cover Girls. “These lovely ladies are here to make sure the signing event runs smoothly. Before we start, I just want to say how sorry I am about Chef Pierce.”

  Chef Saffron dabbed the corner of her eyes with a tissue. “Just ignore me. I cry at the drop of a hat.”

  Chef August patted her hand. “Me too. My wife won’t go to the movies with me after we saw the one about Mister Rogers. I was blubbering so loud that the people behind us had to change seats.”

  The other chefs smiled and started talking about sad films. By the time the attendees began lining up to purchase cookbooks, the somber atmosphere had dissipated.

  Every attendee bought a cookbook, and most bought two or three. The least popular by far was Chef Lindsay’s. It was difficult to say if the customers were put off by the title, Superior Vegan, or by the cover photo featuring a haughty-looking Chef Lindsay holding a basket of fresh vegetables. It wasn’t nearly as enticing as the other cover photos.

  “I feel bad for the skinny chef,” said Violet. “Which is strange because I’m usually too jealous of skinny people to feel bad for them. But I wish she’d sold more cookbooks.”

  Jane said, “Me too. We can’t do anything about it though. The chefs need to go to the kitchens now.”

  Turning to the people still waiting in line, Jane announced that it was time for the day’s challenge.

  The attendees responded by clapping loudly while Chef Saffron bowed, Lindsay waved, and Chef Alondra let out a whoop. Chef August pumped his fist in the air and slung an arm around Chef Michel’s shoulders.

  “I’m coming for you, man!” he taunted.

  “Today is not my day to go, mon ami,” replied a grinning Chef Michel.

  In this, Chef Michel was correct. The chefs were divided into pairs and told to prepare a three-course To Kill a Mockingbird lunch for two hundred. Not only did their dishes have to incorporate the Southern flavors of Harper Lee’s fictional town of May comb, Alabama, but the main course had to include a fried food in honor of Chef Pierce. The chefs were given a pantry filled with Cook’s Pride products.

  The teams would have ninety minutes to create their lunch, but the first course had to be served within forty-five minutes. Each team would also be assigned a member of the Storyton Hall kitchen staff to assist with prep work.

  The audience was invited to sip mimosas, sparkling mint water, or flavored iced tea while watching the chefs move around on the large projector screens at the front of the dining room.

  “For a retired schoolteacher, I lead a very colorful life. I thank the stars that I live in Storyton and that I’m lucky enough to be Jane Steward’s friend,” Mrs. Pratt said as she accepted a mimosa from a server.

  The Cover Girls raised their glasses to Jane before focusing on the screens again.

  It was fascinating to see the chefs work as a team. Other than Chef Saffron and Chef Lindsay, they all seemed to be in perfect harmony. Chef Lindsay wanted to make a meatless main course. Chef Saffron agreed with the condition that their entrée would still look like something Chef Pierce would create.

  “He’d never use that garnish,” Chef Saffron protested when Chef Lindsay started plating.

  Chef Lindsay ignored her, and when their mustard-crusted fried tofu, kale, and potato casserole went out to the dining room, each plate had a lavender sprig garnish. The two chefs argued over their dessert too. Chef Lindsay wanted to top their bourbon pound cake with caramelized walnuts while Chef Saffron argued that mascarpone whipped cream with a roasted pecan crumble would add much-needed salt to their dessert.

  Finally, Chef Saffron lost her temper and yelled, “I trained as a pastry chef, remember?”

  Chef Alondra and “Chef” Mrs. Hubbard created delicious dishes without a single hiccup. The Cover Girls enjoyed the ladies’ pan-fried pork chops with garlic butter, whipped sour cream and chive potatoes, spicy collard greens, and Lane cake, but they had to admit that Chef Michel and Chef August made their favorite dishes.

  Their “hot” fried chicken served over crackling bread “waffles” was fall-off-the bone tender. Every bite of their summer vegetable slaw was garden-fresh, and their dewberry tart—honey-vanilla custard
and dewberries served in a cornbread tart—was beautiful and delectable.

  When the meal was over, the diners voted on their favorite and least favorite dishes. Chef Saffron and Chef Lindsay received the fewest votes. Chef Michel’s dewberry tart had wowed the crowd, and he was awarded a golden spoon and ten thousand dollars from Cook’s Pride. Jane and her friends were almost moved to tears when Chef Michel announced that he’d be splitting the prize money with his teammate, Chef August.

  “A kitchen bromance. I love it,” sniffed Mrs. Pratt.

  Mia was about to announce the name of the chef to be eliminated when a server leaned over and whispered, “Phone call for you, Ms. Steward. It’s the sheriff.”

  Hiding a strong sense of foreboding, Jane smiled at her friends and excused herself. She picked up the lobby phone and asked the front desk clerk to connect her to Sheriff Evans. While she waited, she tried to steady her racing heart.

  The sheriff didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I’ll be heading your way in a few minutes, but I wanted to update you first. The ME’s preliminary findings indicate that Chef Pierce died of exsanguination. The puncture wound on his abdomen proved fatal, but he didn’t fall on that piece. The angle of the wound tells a different story.”

  Jane had no other choice but to ask, “Which kind of story?”

  “One that ends in murder.”

  Chapter 7

  “How did the ME come to a conclusion so quickly?” Jane asked Sheriff Evans.

  They were seated at the table in the William Faulkner Conference Room while two deputies, Phelps and Emory, stood at parade rest on either side of the cherry server.

  Deputy Emory was an attractive young woman with long auburn hair and a heart-shaped face. A soft-spoken, introspective person, she spent her free time reading and painting. She’d moved to Storyton to escape the violence she’d seen as a rookie officer in a big city. It wasn’t long before she learned that their little village wasn’t exactly crime-free.

  Amelia Emory was known for her keen powers of observation, and her presence in the conference room indicated that the sheriff planned to conduct on-site interviews.