Murder Love on the Menu

by Dyann Love Barr

  They stopped in front of the building where the Culinary Channel had its studios. She fumbled in her purse for her key fob. He made an impatient noise and swiped his key fob over the sensor. The door beeped, and he pulled it open.

  “It will only take a minute to check on my glasses.” She let out a groan. “These heels are killing me. I need to get my sneakers out of my locker.”

  He motioned for her to enter. “Good. Then we can go home and hang off the chandelier.”

  She tiptoed to plant a quick kiss on his lips. “You don’t have a chandelier.” She jumped away and entered the lobby before he could grab her and deepen the kiss. “Come on. Let’s get out of here as fast as we can. I’m sure we can find some interestin’ uses for some of the furniture.”

  “I like the way you think.” He flicked the end of her nose with his finger. “Kinky is good.”

  Granite and steel greeted them. The lobby’s decor left a lot to be desired.

  Tilly shivered.

  She wouldn’t miss this when she went back to Tennessee. The lobby had the same cold, dead feeling as Greg Hirschberg’s heart. It was the only part of the city that made her rethink re-upping her contract, but Hirschberg had sweetened the deal, and Sarah had tuition to her private school coming up soon. Tilly would work in a coal mine if it meant getting whatever her child needed.

  Manny, the night security officer, sat at his desk, eating a sandwich and reading a magazine. It was probably a girlie magazine, from the way he hurriedly stuck it underneath the newspaper lying on top of his desk. He jumped up and put his sandwich down.

  “Mr. Kelly, Mf. Danef. Can I helf you with anyfang?” The sandwich in his mouth muffled Manny’s words. He brushed the crumbs from the front of his dark blue security uniform and swallowed hard. “I didn’t expect anyone to show up at this time of night.”

  “We’re goin’ upstairs to the prep kitchens. I left my glasses on one of the counters.”

  “Again?” He gave her a half smile and cleared his throat. “How many pairs does that make this year?”

  Jordan didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes as they rolled heavenward.

  “Don’t even go there.” She wagged her finger at him and turned to Manny. “I misplaced them, and yes, again.”

  “Chef DuPres is still up there. I’ll call to let her know you’re coming up. Don’t want to scare her.” He picked up the phone and dialed the prep kitchen. A frown puckered his broad brow. “That’s funny. No one’s answering. I’ll call her cell phone. Maybe she doesn’t know she’s supposed to answer.” He pulled up a screen on his monitor and ran a finger down its surface. “Here it is.” He dialed again. A few seconds passed. “Still no answer.”

  “Could she have gone out without you noticing?” Jordan glanced around the lobby.

  Manny shook his head. He glanced down at his computer for verification. “No, I don’t see where she used her key fob.” He frowned and moved a soda can away from the keyboard. “Wait, I did have to use the restroom around seven. My wife’s cooking didn’t agree with me. It would’ve been ugly, if you know what I mean.”

  “I’m sure you made the right choice.” Jordan nodded in sympathy.

  “Let me double-check.” He squinted at the screen. “It was only for a few minutes—not enough to call Fred to relieve me. No, she hasn’t left the floor.”

  “Maybe she left with Mr. Hirschberg.” Jordan walked around the desk to peer at the monitor.

  “No, he and Miss Hirschberg signed out right after the two of you.”

  “She’s probably up to her elbows in her bouillabaisse.” Tilly wanted to get out of here. “Let’s go upstairs and get my glasses.” She grabbed Jordan’s arm and gave it a tug. “I’ll let her know to give you a call when she’s headin’ down.”

  Manny sat back at his desk. “Okay. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  “Great.” She dragged Jordan toward the elevators. “Come on.”

  He offered resistance. “What’s the hurry? Your glasses aren’t going anywhere.”

  “The sooner we get them, the sooner we can get naked.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” His wide grin slew a host of doubts.

  They laughed and ran to the bank of elevators, and she punched the up button. A car opened immediately. He escorted her inside and pressed the floor number for the prep kitchen. His arm went around her, pulling her into an embrace.

  “What do you think you’re doin’?” She gave him a playful slap the instant he copped a feel.

  “Getting started on the naked part. It’s a slow elevator, and I work fast.” His hand dropped to her skirt and pushed it up a few inches. Strong fingers stroked her inner thighs. Fire traced his touch until he came to rest on her mound. The thin silk of her panties only served to enhance the sensations as he worked his magic.

  The car stopped, but she hit the close door button. “Maybe I want it slow.” Her voice caught at the feel of his erection brushing her hip.

  “You’ll get it slow, too.” The soft warmth of his breath feathered along the sensitive skin of her neck. Her knees trembled when one finger found its way past the wispy fabric. She threw back her head at his touch.

  Desire fizzled out the instant she saw the red eye of the security camera. Her loud shriek had Jordan jumping back in surprise.

  “What the hell’s the matter now?” The ferocity in his voice might have quelled a lesser man, but Tilly’s embarrassment overruled any intimidation. She turned around and brushed down her skirt as fast as she could.

  “Manny can see everything,” she hissed. Heat suffused her face. Tears welled in her eyes. It was either laugh or cry. Giggles bubbled over until she couldn’t speak, only point to the camera. “You—you—wanted to do something kinky. This is our first sex—sex video.” Breathing became impossible.

  The door to the elevator opened. They stumbled out, holding each other and laughing like loons.

  “Button your blouse. I don’t want Manny getting ideas.” He smoothed her curls over her ears with his fingers.

  “Too late.” She smiled up at him, grabbed his hand, and led him down the hall.

  They stopped in front of the prep kitchen doors. No light spilled through the small windows at the top of the door. “That’s strange. Manny said she was up here. Maybe we just missed her.” A tingle of dread wove its way throughout her body. Her mojo meter spiked into the red. “I hope that’s it.”

  “Could be.” He gave the knob a slow, careful twist and opened the door. “Chef DuPres? Juliette?”

  Silence answered them.

  He reached in and flipped the light switch. Bright light flooded the room, illuminating every surface with equal ruthlessness.

  The network’s new French chef lay in a crumpled heap next to a pristine stainless steel table.

  Chapter Two

  Jordan stared down in shock at Juliette’s swollen, purple and red–splotched face. Her tongue protruded from blue lips. No one looking at her now would ever recognize her as the beautiful woman they’d left just hours ago.

  Tilly dropped her purse, ran forward, and fell to her knees beside Juliette. “She needs an ambulance.”

  “I think it’s way past time for a trip to the emergency room.” He’d served as a medic during a tour of duty in Iraq, and he’d seen enough death and horrific injuries to last a lifetime. “We need to call the police.”

  “Shut up. You’re a chef, not a doctor.” Tilly picked up Juliette’s arm and felt the woman’s wrist for a pulse. “She’s so cold.” Her face crumpled, telling him all he needed to know. The newest member of the Culinary Channel was indeed dead.

  “I’m sorry. You were right to check.” He grabbed his cell phone from inside his jacket pocket and dialed Manny. He quickly explained the situation to the security guard and ended his call. Tilly still held the dead woman’s hand. “Come on, Matilda. We need to get out of here and wait for the police.”

  She wiped her brimming eyes with the back of her hand. “I hate
leavin’ her here like this. It’s—it’s so heartless.”

  “I know, but Manny said not to touch anything in case there’s been a crime committed.” He motioned for her to get up.

  “You think someone killed her?” Her eyes grew round with surprise.

  “It’s an unattended death. It’s standard practice to send for the police.”

  “Okay, okay.” She stood and picked up her purse, yanked out a tissue from the small packet, and dabbed at her eyes. “I can’t believe this. We were talkin’ to her less than four hours ago. She was makin’ that bouillabaisse recipe without crab or lobster.”

  “I wasn’t really paying attention.” Heat ran up his neck. While everyone had gathered for the big introduction to the newest Culinary Channel star, all he could do was to hope Juliette DuPres didn’t mention the three days they’d had in Paris when he was a new chef. The older woman had gone on to seduce bigger and better prey in the foodie world. Now, he wondered if she’d gotten her hooks into Greg Hirschberg. He cast a worried glance at Tilly. Did she suspect anything?

  “She said she was allergic to shellfish and wanted to create a dish, based on the classic, for people like her.” She pulled in a shuddering breath. “It was almost done when we left.”

  “What?” He could tell Tilly how people like her—meaning Juliette—ate people alive, spit out the bones, and then asked for dessert. Not many would mourn Chef DuPres’s passing. If the world thought he was tough, Juliette had made him howl like a wounded animal.

  “You know, with food allergies. That was the whole point of her show. Weren’t you listenin’ at all?”

  “No. I already told you. My main focus was getting you to the restaurant.” And away from Juliette DuPres before she blurted out anything to Tilly. Food allergies and medical histories hadn’t been the main thrust of their swapping spit that night in Paris. Condoms and red or white wine were all they’d been interested in, besides burning up the sheets.

  Damn. Now I’m going to have to confess to Tilly before this is all over.

  This was the last thing he needed if he ever had any hopes of slipping a wedding ring on her finger. The sting of her refusal to marry him hurt like crazy. It made his day a total shitfest, and now finding Juliette dead put the cherry on top. Irritation and anger fought with the need to keep everything in check. He had to focus on something other than his churning emotions.

  “I don’t understand how this could happen.” She glanced around the kitchen. “She told me she kept an EpiPen in her purse—just in case.”

  “A lot of good it does her there.”

  “Where is the bouillabaisse? Everything is so clean.” She rubbed her hands against her arms as if to ward off a chill. “Something’s dreadfully wrong. I’m gettin’ some bad vibes again.”

  “Juliette is dead. I’d say that’s dreadfully wrong.”

  She paled until the line of freckles on her nose was the only color on her face. “I knew something was wrong when she didn’t answer. I just knew it.”

  He studied the kitchen. Her intuition was right. All the pots and pans sparkled on the shelves lined up against the wall. The counters and stainless steel tables shone. No evidence of cooking remained, yet the scents of garlic, onions, fennel, and saffron filled the air. “I’m beginning to think you’re a scary person.”

  She gave a delicate blow into her tissue, ending with a swipe and sniffle. “Why?” She looked up at him with big, puzzled robin’s egg blue eyes.

  “Your bad-mojo meter is working overtime.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, led her into the hall, and shut the door. An awful sense of déjà vu hit him in the gut.

  Six months ago, Maxwell Etheridge’s murder had started much the same way—a grisly death in one room while he and Tilly waited outside in the hall for the police to arrive. The only good thing to come out of that exercise in horror was their relationship. Who would’ve known he’d find love in the midst of death?

  She shivered.

  He couldn’t blame her. He’d never be able to erase the image of Juliette DuPres’s bloated face from his mind. “We’ll give the police our statements. Then let’s take a hot shower, grab some wine, and curl up in bed. What do you say, Matilda?”

  That got her hackles up—as he meant it to.

  “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” She huffed and turned away. “I really hate that name.”

  “I love you, Matilda Jane Danes.” He embraced her, his chest against her back. She stiffened, but he wasn’t about to let go. “Tilly is a good name for a spitfire, and you are one, every little inch of you. But to tell you the truth, Matilda is the whole beautiful package.”

  She snuggled closer and relaxed against him. “I love you, too.”

  “Good.” He rubbed his cheek against her hair, thankful for this woman who fit into his heart as if she’d been custom-made. Her words were a balm to his soul. “That’s good.”

  He nuzzled her ear, inhaling the soft scent of her skin and the perfume he’d bought for her last week. The exotic floral mixed with stringent citrus and spicy cinnamon fit her to a T. He grew hard thinking about touching every inch of her tonight. Soft ivory skin, lush breasts, and hips a man could grab hold of and ride into oblivion. Maybe that’s what they needed. They’d joked about wild, animal sex, but it might ease out the bad memories.

  God knew, he needed to know she wasn’t putting their relationship on hold.

  The sound of footsteps and several voices was their heads-up that the police had arrived. His best friend, Detective Hank Tapper, from the CSU squad, and several uniformed officers, along with a gray-haired man in an equally gray suit, rounded the corner of the bank of elevators.

  “These are my friends Tilly Danes and Jordan Kelly. They found the body.” Hank slipped on a pair of blue paper booties and stood by the doorway. “Let me introduce you to Detective Crespo from the Sixth Precinct.”

  “Hi. I’m Tilly Danes.” She bobbed her head and sidled a bit closer.

  Detective Crespo nodded. “Sorry to meet both of you like this. Big fan.”

  “Jordan Kelly.” He started to hold out his hand for a shake and decided this wasn’t the time or place. “Thanks for getting here so quickly. We didn’t like leaving Juliette like that but thought we’d better wait out here.”

  “Smart move.” The detective’s mouth crooked into what might be a smile but looked more like a crack in a boulder. “Detective Tapper tells me you both have alibis for the time of the murder.”

  “Yes. We left here after the reception. That was around six. We took a limo to Le Fou. My friend Tim can verify that we were at his restaurant from six thirty until we left around eight.” Jordan slipped his arm around Tilly’s shoulder. “We came directly here because Tilly left her glasses in the kitchen. Manny has a log of the times we left, and we checked in at eight thirty. That’s when we found the body in the prep kitchen.”

  Detective Crespo sighed and scrubbed the back of his neck with a beefy hand. “We’ll need a formal statement, but that puts you in the clear—for now.” He turned away and went into the prep kitchen.

  “What’s up with that guy?”

  “You and Tilly have a way of stumbling over bodies.” Hank tsked and shook his head.

  “It was only two.” She glared up at Hank in indignation. She shot a quick glance at the detective through the open door and whispered, “And one was enough.”

  “Now it’s three, pally.” Hank gave her a smile that sent a shock wave rocketing through Jordan. “Third time’s the charm, and I don’t want you to be next.” Hank put his finger under her chin and lifted her face for his inspection. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m over the worst of it.” She lowered her lashes—Jordan swore it was more of a flutter—and her cheeks flushed under his best friend’s scrutiny. “There wasn’t anything we could do. She was already gone when we got here.”

  Was Hank hitting on his woman? He couldn’t be, could he? Jealousy ro
iled in Jordan’s gut at the thought. First he’d had to contend with Detective Tyler Jericho during the Etheridge murder, and now his best friend.

  He narrowed his eyes and watched Hank pull on his latex gloves. This had to be a cop version of flexing his muscles, because Tilly’s attention zeroed in on Hank.

  “Don’t make a habit of it,” Hank said.

  Tilly’s mouth worked into a grimace. “Believe me, it’s not on my bucket list.”

  Hank turned to Jordan. “She said DuPres was already dead. Did you notice anything unusual?”

  “Tilly said she had a severe allergy to shellfish. It looked like she might have had a bad reaction.” He watched the way Hank’s eyes scanned Tilly’s face with concern. “I had to deal with a couple of cases of anaphylactic shock while I was in Iraq.”

  “Why don’t you two wait for me?” Hank frowned as Tilly shifted from foot to foot. “She looks a little wobbly on her feet.”

  She gave him a big smile—the one that made her dimples pop out and tempted a man to kiss them. “Don’t worry, it’s these shoes. They’re killin’ my feet.”

  “Then it wouldn’t hurt to have a seat,” Hank insisted.

  The moment Hank went into the prep kitchen, Jordan hissed in her ear, “What’s with the pally thing?”

  “That’s his nickname for me.”

  “Are you a cop magnet?”

  “What?”

  The innocence in her eyes made him crazy. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “You know what I mean.” A red haze of jealousy mixed with the misery of being rejected. “Hank was putting the moves on you.”

  “You are out of your mind.” She gave him an incredulous look. “Why would your best friend come on to me—especially in the middle of an investigation?”

  “I don’t know.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe because you couldn’t take those big blue eyes off him while he was suiting up.”