Murder Love on the Menu

by Dyann Love Barr

  “It must have been difficult for you to be in the middle.”

  Gretchen nodded. She reached for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “David loved veal piccata.” She gave them a wan smile and slipped her hands into her lap. “Even though I work with chefs every day, I can’t boil water. I told her it would go a long way to smoothing out the tension.” She twisted her fingers until her knuckles grew white. “The scene in the studio kitchen was so horrible. I wanted peace between everyone.”

  “It didn’t go well?”

  “We finished dinner, and a fight broke out between the two of them. Lena said terrible, awful things to both of us. David told me that she was only pretending to be my friend.” She glanced down at her hands. They stopped fidgeting, and she lay them palm down on her desk. “I’ll never believe my brother’s accusations. Now he’s gone.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Tilly leaned forward in her chair and placed her hand on Gretchen’s desk as if reaching out to hold her hand. “This has been so traumatic for your family.”

  Anger flashed in Gretchen’s eyes. “You have no idea.”

  …

  Tilly wanted to talk to Lena before she jumped to any conclusions. All the circumstantial evidence pointed to her like a bright, blinking neon arrow. Killer. Killer. Killer.

  The woman deserved to tell them her side of the story. Tilly had a bad feeling Detective Crespo, Hank, and the rest of the justice system planned to haul her off to Rikers Island. This time, Jordan was on her side—he believed Lena was innocent as well.

  She squinted down at her watch. Everything was a blur, and she’d left her glasses in her purse. “What time is it?”

  Jordan raised his infamous brow. “Glasses?” His question held a wealth of smirk.

  “Not lost. They’re in my purse.”

  “And your purse is in your desk.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. She hesitated for a second, not wanting to give in so quickly. “Come on, Matilda. I can see I’m going to have to buy stock in the company that makes your readers.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re a scream, slick.” She took his hand regardless of her snarky reply and gave it a small, affectionate squeeze before she released it. “I’ll bet you’d make it as a comedian if this cookin’ gig goes belly-up.”

  “Have no fears about being tossed in the streets.” Gretchen rose from her desk with quick, efficient motions and held out her hand. “Here’s to another award-winning year.”

  “Again, I’m sorry for your loss.” Instead of shaking it, Jordan put his hands over hers in a gesture of condolence and assurance. “You’re doing a wonderful job. I hope your father knows what a producer he has in you.”

  Gretchen flushed and gently pulled her hand away. “Thank—thank you.”

  They left her office and made their way down to the studio kitchens to record Tilly’s show, Tilly’s Table. She’d named it after her restaurant, and the set was a reproduction of her kitchen in Tennessee. But the familiarity didn’t bring her comfort today.

  “Did you notice anything odd about Gretchen?” Jordan’s question brought her back to the present.

  “Odd?” His thoughtful expression intrigued her. What was going on behind those dark eyes? “In what way?”

  “I was trying to figure it out while we were in her office. There was something different a—”

  “Makeup. She’s wearing makeup,” she replied automatically. It was a little out of character for Gretchen to wear any cosmetics. “Just a little. A nude shade of lipstick, a little blush, and a touch of mascara.”

  “That’s it.” Jordan snapped his fingers and smiled as if he’d had a eureka moment—although she was the one who’d pointed out the obvious. “But I don’t remember her ever using makeup. I’m surprised I missed it. I should’ve picked up on it right away.”

  “I’ve ruined you for supermodels.”

  “I’ve learned to love freckles and short ladies with a little extra to hold on to.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “You could’ve stopped at the freckles.”

  “No, really—”

  While it was mean, it was also entertaining to watch him dig a deep hole for himself. “I’ll bet you know all the secrets the rest of us are dyin’ to find out.” She fluttered her eyelashes and laid on the molasses. “Why I declare, Mr. Kelly. How did Gemma Grant manage to keep all those little bits of fabric from creatin’ a wardrobe malfunction? Curious minds want to know.”

  “Double-sided tape.” His instant response stopped her mid-stride.

  She stopped batting her lashes and glared at him through narrowed slits. “Do say.”

  “You asked.” He gave her a wicked smile.

  Butterflies danced inside her heart—beautiful, flighty things that took her breath away.

  “Makeup. That reminds me—Hank told me the lipstick they found at Juliette’s crime scene belonged to Katherine Hirschberg. It’s raised a few new questions for the police.” He scrunched up his face in thought. “Do you remember her taking it out of her bag? Hank said she swore she used it during the reception and must have dropped it. You’d recognize it. It’s a gold and diamond case that must have set Hirschberg back big-time.”

  “Probably a bribe for heaven knows what.” She replayed the night in her head. All she remembered was Jordan’s insistence they leave as soon as the Hirschbergs introduced Juliette to the Culinary Channel. “No, I don’t recall her usin’ her lipstick, and believe me, she’s not the type to freshen up in public.”

  “So how did it end up next to Juliette’s body?” Jordan’s question left her without any good answers or speculations.

  “I don’t know.” That was her honest answer. She could see Katherine going after Juliette but not her own son. Lena was the obvious choice, but this put a whole new wrinkle in the investigation. It muddied the waters.

  “I have another question.” He stared down at her.

  The intensity of his dark eyes made her giddy with—anticipation, longing, or trepidation, she wasn’t sure. The best option was to take a step back.

  “Are we still good?”

  How could he not think they were okay? “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you still love me?”

  The disquiet in his gaze tugged at her heart, leaving her to fend off a touch of guilt for making him worry. “Of course. We wouldn’t be together if we let a few bumps along the way hurt us. There’s been more than one, and we’ve survived.”

  “What about Sarah?”

  There it was—the elephant, five-hundred-pound gorilla, or whatever flavor of the month animal in the room.

  “All right, she’s a big bump.” She couldn’t deny the presence of her daughter added a new spin on their relationship, but he had to realize Sarah wasn’t going away—ever. “But she’s my bump.”

  “I’ve never had to deal with kids except for my nieces and nephews.” He grimaced as if reliving some horrible experience. His eyes widened. “I throw presents at them when I go visit my sister. They’re like lions with fresh meat.”

  “I can’t guarantee everything will be smooth sailin’ with Sarah. It’s goin’ to take time.”

  “Patience isn’t my best quality.” He gave her hand a light squeeze. “You should know from experience. What if Sarah and I never get along?”

  “You and I didn’t at first.” A janitor’s closet caught her eye, and she gave his hand a tug. “Look at us now.” She jiggled the doorknob and found it unlocked. Good, because she had plans to make Jordan forget his concerns.

  “That’s true, but—” The furrow between his brows changed to surprise when she pulled him into the small space, closed the door, and hit the light switch. A dull glow filled the closet. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m about to show you how copacetic we are.” Her fingers splayed over the fine black cotton covering his chest. “I like that word—copacetic.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?” His eyes sparkled with eagerness. One thing about Jordan, he caught on fast when it c
ame to sex.

  “By havin’ my way with you.” She pulled his T-shirt from his jeans and thrilled at the heat radiating from his skin. “It will mellow you out in all the right ways.”

  “This is bribery.” His hands cupped her face with heartbreaking tenderness before his lips brushed hers.”

  “Consider it throwin’ meat at a hungry lion.”

  Each small kiss built into a heat of growing need, fueling but never deepening enough to light the fire. Jordan left her groaning in frustration, tasting and teasing the sensitive skin of her neck.

  “Sarah might find out.”

  He left a trail of sin and desire wherever his lips touched. The feel of his large hands slipping under her chef’s jacket left her giddy with anticipation.

  “Do you plan on tellin’ her about us knockin’ boots in a janitor’s closet?” Her words came out in strangled mews of pleasure the moment he found an aching nipple.

  “No.” He reached over and hit the switch. The last thing he wanted was a curious maintenance man checking out the closet if light shone under the bottom of the door.

  “Good.” Tilly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. “Because you’re wastin’ time. I’ve got a show to do in twenty minutes.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jordan had never done it in a maintenance closet. Maybe he was high from the cleaning fluids stored on the shelves. Whatever made him crazy with need was amplified by Tilly’s nimble fingers tugging at the metal fastener of his jeans. His cock sprang free, and her talented hands worked him with sure, steady strokes.

  “You want it fast and dirty, you got it,” he growled at the feel of her hands caressing his heated flesh. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her black chef’s pants and brought them down, panties and all. He slipped his hand over the curve of her mound and found her wet and ready.

  She stepped out of her pants and leaned against the wall. He couldn’t see much in the darkness of the closet, but her breathing hitched at the intimate penetration of his finger. A quick flick of her clit with his thumb made her cry out.

  “If you don’t do somethin’ soon”—her sweet whiskey moan echoed his passion—“I’m gonna die.”

  “You got it.” He lifted her up until her legs were wrapped around his waist and he could position his cock against her awaiting warmth. In one sure thrust, he was buried inside her heat.

  She pulled him closer until her mouth fused with his. The kiss tasted of all the dark sweetness in the world. One kiss would never be enough. His tongue stroked hers, building the heat. He pumped into her body like a madman until she squealed out his name. Her body convulsed around his cock, squeezing until he had no choice but to follow her. His release nearly brought him to his knees. She panted and gripped his shoulders tight until he withdrew and set her on her feet.

  He turned on the light and found her eyes glazed and a funny little smile on her face. “Yeah. I’d say copacetic is the correct word.”

  “Copa-what?”

  The silly grin made him feel like a superhero. “We’re good.” He pulled a handful of paper towels from a roll on the shelves and wet them under the hose of the mop basin faucet. “Here. You’ll want to wash up before Patty gets you in the makeup chair.”

  She blushed and accepted the towels. He took care of his own business, giving her a moment of privacy. It took her only few minutes to clean up and readjust her clothing.

  “How do I look?” She smoothed down her chef’s jacket and brushed any lingering dust from her pants.

  “Like a woman in love.” He planted a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “Adorable.”

  “No, do I look like I’ve been screwing Satan’s Chef in the janitor’s closet?”

  “Not a bit. I’d never be able to tell that less than a minute ago you were calling out my name and begging for more.”

  The shocked look on her face was priceless.

  “Oh, my sweet baby Jesus.” She gave him a quick, light slap on the shoulder. “I was quiet as a mouse.”

  One brow went up. “They must have some pretty loud mice in Tennessee. You better get going, or they will come looking for you.” He tucked his shirt into his jeans. “And don’t forget. We have a date in the prep kitchen with Sarah.”

  They opened the door to make sure no one was watching, and she scrambled down the hall to her studio kitchen. The sway of her round bottom made his fingers itch to touch her and drag her back for another go.

  She turned and gave him a big smile and a wave. The memory of their interlude in the closet made him chuckle. I never thought the smell of floor wax could be an aphrodisiac.

  Relief washed over him. They were back on track, and the only thing left to do was to tell her about Juliette. It was the only dark cloud in his horizon.

  …

  Tilly’s aqua high-top sneakers never touched the ground during the two hours of filming. The quickie in the closet left her with a smile plastered from ear to ear and a zip to her heart that made it difficult to focus on the butter cake recipe. She messed up the last take, still wearing the goofy grin. “I’m so sorry, Sol. I meant to say bakin’ powder instead of bakin’ soda. The bakin’ soda is already in the flour—right?” She stared down into the golden mess inside the mixing bowl.

  “Yeah, but why don’t we take a lunch break and hit it hard when we come back?” Chelsea stood and stretched. “We’re all off-kilter because of the murders. You can reshoot the ingredient list again. Keep whatever is there just for show. The viewer won’t know which ingredient you put in. There’s a cake in the oven to switch out.”

  “Thank goodness.” She brushed her jacket to rid herself of any errant flour and checked the studio clock—12:40. “My daughter is waiting in the prep kitchen. I’ll be back at two thirty.”

  “Okay, everyone. You heard the lady. Be here and prepared to work until we get this wrapped.”

  She decided she had time to visit the restroom to freshen up before she headed downstairs to the prep kitchen. Her mind was still on her recent closet caper when she pushed through the ladies’ room door. The sound of weeping greeted her. Lena sat on the floor with her forearms resting on her knees and her head sunk down to her chest.

  “Lena. What’s wrong?”

  The sobbing woman started with surprise. She stared up at Tilly with reddened eyes and snot bubbling from her nose. Tilly ran into one of the stalls for toilet paper. She handed it to Lena without asking any more questions.

  “Thank you.” Lena scrubbed at her nose with the toilet paper and dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. She glanced up at Tilly again. A sad laugh hiccuped past the tears. She gave her nose another swipe before getting to her feet. “Can you believe that two-faced bitch canceled my show?”

  “I don’t understand.” Tilly blinked in surprise. Gretchen had said Lena was the one who wanted out of her contract. “I take it that the two-faced bitch is Gretchen?” Gretchen had the power to fire people now that David was gone, but Tilly was surprised she hadn’t stood by her friend. Especially since Gretchen had defended Lena’s wanting to leave the network earlier this morning.

  “Oh, I’ll get my money, but that’s it. I’m officially on indefinite leave. That way they can’t say they fired me. Don’t you love loopholes? I told her I’d go to the Everyday Epicure Network or start a show on a video-sharing site. She said she’d make sure I couldn’t work anywhere else for three years. It’s in the noncompete clause. All because it was David’s last wish to get rid of me. Bullshit!” Her curse reverberated against the cold tile of the restroom. “Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. He fired me every other day, and I quit on the odd days.” She threw the sodden mess into the trash. “The man was an asshole—dyed in the wool. Took after his daddy. But I still loved the jerk.”

  Tilly pointed to the restroom’s small foyer. “Why don’t we sit down?” Lena let her lead the way to a green-and-burgundy-striped bench that sat under a large print of one of Georgia O’Keeffe’s calla lillies. “Here
let’s get comfortable.”

  Lena permitted her to take one hand while she wiped at the tears with the other. “I don’t know what to do.”

  This was so un-Lena-like. Tilly reached over for a box of tissues from the small table by the bench. She handed it to Lena.

  Lena sniffed and nodded. “Yup. She called me into her office fifteen minutes ago. Apparently I’m too much of a distraction to the Culinary Channel.” She grabbed a tissue from the box and waved it around. “She had the balls to call security to walk me out of the building, but I escaped. I ducked in here to blow off some steam.” She pushed off the bench to stomp around in the anteroom’s small space. “I didn’t kill David. If only I hadn’t let my mouth get the upper hand or come back for my phone.” Her eyes were frantic as if reliving the moment. “I saw him lying on the floor with the mallet beside him. I can’t believe I picked it up.” Her agitated step held the energy of a penned lioness. “It was a stupid, stupid thing to do.”

  “Oh, Lena.” She couldn’t believe the horror that Lena must have gone through when she found David.

  “He was so still, Tilly. He didn’t answer when I called his name. That’s when I touched him.” She stopped her manic pacing and hugged herself. “He was still breathing so I did CPR, but he died. I loved that lying, cheating asshole, and he died in my arms before I could tell him he was a fucking louse.”

  Tilly stood and slid an arm around the grieving woman’s shoulder. “I’d like to say everything will be okay, but that’s so trite. Instead, I’ll tell you that you need to be strong.”

  “I don’t feel strong.” Lena sniffled and wiped at her cheeks. “I’m crying like a baby.”

  “There’s nothin’ wrong with cryin’. My foster mother always says tears are rain to the soul. They fall on manure and produce flowers of hope.”

  “That’s beautiful.” Lena sucked in a watery breath. “And weird.”