Murder Love on the Menu

by Dyann Love Barr

  They left the building and into a partly cloudy, New York spring day.

  “I’ll hail a cab while you make the call.” She motioned Sarah to follow. “You come with me.”

  “Pushy much?” Sarah teased her mother.

  “I’d say you’re the one pushin’ it.” Tilly raised her hand to wave down a passing cab. It whizzed by them as if they were invisible.

  He stayed near the building and called Gretchen’s private number, hoping it would go directly to voicemail. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he didn’t have to go into details—just a quick heads-up about the taping delay.

  No such luck. Two rings later, she picked up.

  “Gretchen Hirschberg.”

  “Hey, Gretchen. It’s Jordan Kelly.”

  “Jordan. What can I do for you?” Her voice was distant and cold.

  “Did I call at a bad time?”

  “No. No.” There was a pause. “I’ve got a horrible headache. That’s all.”

  “I’m sorry.” He paused for a second and decided it would be better to get it over with as quickly as possible. “Tilly wanted me to let you know she probably won’t be back for the rest of this afternoon’s shoot.”

  “What?” Gretchen’s howl blistered his eardrums. “What is she thinking? Does she know how much time we lose, not to mention the cost of the delays? This is so unprofessional.”

  He thought for a moment. Gretchen was a woman who wanted to please her father more than anything else. Tilly would kill him, but she’d brought this on herself. He knew what she needed, even if she was too scared to admit it. He took a step out of earshot from mother and daughter and turned his back to them.

  “Here’s the deal,” he whispered into the phone, half afraid Tilly would overhear. “I’m planning on asking Tilly to marry me.”

  “When?” Gretchen’s words reeked with excitement. She was her father’s daughter. Great publicity would save the channel, and the cha-ching of cold, hard cash probably warmed her heart.

  “As soon as I can get her to say yes. She’s a little ring-shy right now.” He sucked in a deep breath and charged forward. “The Culinary Channel will have exclusive rights to the wedding if you let us spend more time on the investigation. Think how much this would mean to your father. He needs something to lift his spirits.” There—he was a total asshat for playing the let Daddy love me card, but neither woman had left him with any other option.

  “Take what time you need. We’ll do a work-around until everything gets sorted out.” Her excitement was palpable. “This is just what we need to send the ratings back up.”

  “Thanks.” He peered over his shoulder to see Tilly and Sarah arguing again. Whatever the Dynamic Duo were bickering about didn’t set well with Sarah. “Don’t say anything to her until we set the date.”

  “You have my word. Go do what you need to.”

  “Will do.” He ended the call and turned around with a smile plastered on his face.

  “What did she say?” Tilly shouted over the sound of a police siren.

  He gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Great.” Her smile made his insides churn. She’d unleash a shit storm when she found out about the deal with the Culinary Channel, but with any luck, that wouldn’t happen until he’d actually gotten her to accept his proposal. He knew that was living in a fantasy. It was imperative to come up with plan B, just in case.

  He slipped his phone into his jeans pocket, hoping she wouldn’t see the guilt nibbling away at his conscience. How could fixing something as simple as taking a few extra hours off end up with both of them being in a bigger mess? Actually, he reasoned, it was her fault for not waiting until they could see Hank after work. He knew that reasoning was bogus, but he’d hold on to it until something more logical popped into his head.

  “Please, Mama. I really don’t want to go.”

  “It’ll be educational.”

  “I don’t want to be educated—I want to watch YouTube on my phone.”

  Tilly gave her daughter a stern look. “I swear, Sarah Jane Danes, you are goin’ to be headed for the Outback if you keep this up.”

  Sarah heaved a heavy sigh that she’d obviously honed to perfection. “Okay.”

  A cab pulled up, and magically, the bickering between mother and daughter stopped. He held the door open for them.

  “Remember.” Tilly pointed at Sarah. “Your best behavior. I don’t want any scenes while Jordan and I are at the CSU lab.”

  Her daughter shuddered, but he wasn’t sure if it was the prospect of speaking French or being at the crime lab.

  “Will there be dead people?” Sarah scooted to the far side, next to the window.

  Tilly sat next to her, leaving him to squeeze in as best he could.

  “No. That’s the medical examiner’s office.” He couldn’t resist. He leaned across Tilly and raised a brow. “But I’m sure you can get a tour of lab. Who knows what gross stuff they’ve got stashed away.”

  “Ew.” Sarah’s nose went up a bit, but she gave it a moment’s consideration and nodded. “Cool. I’d like to see the computers like the ones on CSI.”

  He snorted and wriggled around in the seat to get comfortable. “So would Hank.”

  The cab ride was uneventful, with Sarah being on her best behavior. He caught her staring at him with a little frown on her face. There was no telling what was going on behind those eyes that were so much like her mother’s.

  “What is it? Do I have spinach in my teeth or something?” He cast a quick glance down at his fly to make sure he hadn’t embarrassed himself.

  “Mama says your mother is a professor of neuroscience at NYU?” She shifted in her seat to face him across her mother. “Why not a regular doctor?”

  “Sar-ah.”

  Tilly’s long, drawn-out pronunciation of her name forced a resigned sigh from her daughter. “Never mind.” She leaned her head against the window and drew little patterns on the glass.

  “It’s okay.” He took Tilly’s hand in his and gave it a little squeeze of assurance. “My grandmother had a degenerative nerve disease that left her in a lot of pain. Mom wanted to find out why it happened, could it be cured, and if not, how to make the patient comfortable.”

  “And your father is an attorney.” Sarah sat upright and met his eyes.

  “Yup. Someone stole his BB gun when he was ten. Now he seeks justice for his clients. Does a lot of pro bono work.”

  “Sounds like a superhero.”

  It was hard to tell if she was giving his father a compliment or not. The kid was hard to read.

  “If you want superheroes, there’s my sister.” Teresa made Wonder Woman look like a slacker. “She’s CEO of a multimillion-dollar company. Have you ever heard of Sleepy Baby?”

  “Oh, the thing that records the womb sounds?” Sarah’s voice held a mixture of surprise and admiration. “The mom plays it back to the baby once it’s born to help the baby sleep—right?”

  “That’s the one. She came up with that little gem.” He crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “Not to mention she wrangles three kids, two dogs, three cats, a parrot, and a husband. Overachiever.”

  “And you’re a cook.” She shook her head as if his profession was lacking compared to the rest of his family.

  “Not a cook.” He let out a snort of amusement. “I’m a very famous chef who leaves brash, arrogant wannabes shaking in their clogs and puking in their mixing bowls.”

  “That sounds a lot like the bullies at school.”

  He’d never thought of himself as a bully—merely a chef who couldn’t stand less than perfection from others with aspirations to his level of expertise. Time had proven him immune to others’ censure of his methods, but looking at himself from a fourteen-year-old’s point of view took him aback. “No. I’m not a bully at all. It’s my brand—my persona.”

  “Well. It stinks.” Sarah gave him a delicate snort of disbelief. “You weren’t mean with me. Why not?”

  “You�
�re Tilly’s daughter.”

  “The contestants on your show are someone’s sons and daughters.”

  “Well, yes.” The kid’s logic was impeccable. “You’re right. I can see where there’s room for improvement.”

  “I don’t want my mama around a bully.”

  Tilly looked as if she wanted to clap her hands over Sarah’s mouth. She squirmed in her tiny portion of the backseat.

  “Me, either.” He’d never thought of a cab ride to Hank’s office a place for deep introspection, but Sarah had pointed out a major flaw in his life. Damn it, I am a bully. The realization left the taste of ashes in his mouth.

  Tilly groaned and shook her head. Her face turned a pretty shade of pink. “I’m sorry. Sarah—”

  “There’s no need to apologize.” Sarah glanced at her mother. “Mama is a great cook—a famous cook, too, even before she started to work at the Culinary Channel. She says she puts love in everything.” Her heavy sigh bordered on rudeness if it weren’t for the tiny chuckle at the end. “I know, it’s de fromage.”

  “Excusez-moi?” Tilly turned to her daughter with eyes widened in question. “Cheesy?”

  “I didn’t know you spoke French, Mama.”

  “I don’t. I’ve been practicin’ just in case I have to make a trip to Geneva.” Tilly’s words were filled with dark intent. “I know cheese when I hear cheese.”

  The cab pulled up to the large gray building. He paid the fare and escorted the ladies through the front door. A few minutes later they got their visitors’ pass before heading on to meet Hank.

  “Tilly, Jordan.” Hank smiled and ushered them through the door of his office. “Sarah, too.” He glanced around the room with a frown on his face. “I’m shy a chair.”

  “I’ll stand.” Jordan pulled the chairs out for Tilly and Sarah.

  “You guys saved me a phone call.” Hank perched on the edge of his desk. “We’ve got most of the forensic reports back. We’re able to do the majority of the DNA analysis within two hours. No surprises there, but some of the more difficult samples will take days or weeks to get the results.” He nodded in the direction of Sarah. “Why don’t I arrange for Officer Bardwell to give you a tour of the CSU?” It was clear Hank didn’t want Sarah to see the evidence he had to show them.

  “Really?” Sarah turned to Tilly. “Will it be okay?”

  Tilly glanced at her daughter as if to gauge her sincerity. Finally, she nodded her consent. “Sure. It will be…educational.”

  “Good.” Hank made a quick call, and soon Officer Bardwell’s bright smile beamed at them.

  “Tilly, how nice to see you again.” She glanced over at him. “Mr. Kelly. What’s this about someone needing a guided tour?”

  Sarah jumped up and waved her hand. “That’s me.”

  “Well, come on.” Officer Bardwell motioned for her to follow. They left with Sarah chirping like a bird, firing one question after another at her guide, each more gruesome than the next. It surprised him, especially for a kid who was dubious about visiting the CSU in the first place.

  Hank pushed a tablet in front of them once Sarah was safely out of sight and earshot. Jordan picked it up and sat in the now vacant chair, holding it away from Tilly’s view. He didn’t want her to see what used to be the back of David Hirschberg’s head.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “What is it?” Tilly reached over and took the tablet from Jordan’s hand. She finally understood his reluctance to let her see. She wasn’t squeamish by nature, but the image made her stomach give a nasty flip. It was a good thing her reading glasses were on her bedside table rather than on her nose. Seeing the blurry version was bad enough.

  “This was a crime of rage. As you can see, the entire back of his skull is caved in from the blows. There was brain matter and bone in the prongs of the mallet.” Hank took the tablet from her hand and returned it to his desk. “Whoever did this would’ve been covered in blood.”

  “Poor David.” She couldn’t imagine what had happened to make him the object of such violence. He might have been a jerk, but he didn’t deserve to have his head bashed in like an overripe cantaloupe.

  “I have a question.” Jordan leaned back in his chair, hands steepled, eyes focused off in the distance. Tilly had seen that look often enough to know he was turning the information this way and that until he came to a conclusion. “Lena McCoy is charged in his death—correct?”

  “Detective Crespo dug up enough evidence for a judge to issue a warrant for her arrest.” Hank’s face grew harder, if that were possible. “Just FYI—he’s not happy with you two working as consultants for the department.”

  “Even if the commissioner approved of us?” Detective Crespo had rubbed her the wrong way from the very beginning.

  “Yeah. He didn’t like the idea that Hirschberg went over his head.”

  Now she knew her instincts were on target. “Detective Crespo would ignore us—even if we found the true murderer standin’ over the body with the weapon in their hand.”

  “That’s how they found Lena. For him, it’s case solved.”

  “Lena called in the murder.” Jordan frowned. “She would have had blood on her hands if she checked on David’s condition.”

  “Yes.” Hank looked down at the report. “His interview with Lena says she went back to retrieve her phone. The door to the apartment was ajar. She entered and turned on the lights. She saw David lying on the floor and called out his name but he didn’t respond. Her phone was on the floor next to him. She called 911 for help. At first she thought he was dead. He clenched his fingers, and she checked for a pulse.”

  “I know. She told me the same thing in the ladies’ room earlier this afternoon.” Tilly’s agitation grew. It was impossible to sit still. She stood and paced back and forth while her mind worked to fit the puzzle pieces together. “I know”—she thumped her chest with the palm of her hand—“that she didn’t do it.”

  “How do you know she’s innocent?” Hank’s laser-sharp eyes bored into her. “What did she say?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to her?” Jordan’s dark gaze grew stormy.

  They were honest questions. She turned to Hank. “I can’t tell you how I know. It’s just a feelin’.” Jordan’s answer was a bit more difficult. “I didn’t say anything to you about Lena because I had other things on my mind.”

  “Sit down.” Jordan’s soft command brought her up short. “Did she say anything else?”

  She shook her head and caught Hank’s eyes. “You know as much as I do.”

  “Do you want me to go on?”

  She nodded. “This is what I signed up for. I’ll see it through.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” Jordan got to his feet and slid his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Neither one of us does.”

  “Are you quittin’?” She cocked her head to one side, wondering if he might be getting tired of the case. He hadn’t wanted to be a part of it from the beginning.

  “Hell, no.” His answer surprised her. “I’ve got too much time invested in finding the killer.” There was more behind his words, but now wasn’t the time or place to go into it.

  “Then neither am I.” She squared her shoulders and slipped back into her chair. “What happened next?”

  Jordan returned to his chair and reached for her hand. She had to admit the touch of his skin against hers soothed a lot of her stress.

  “Hirschberg’s heartbeat was faint, but it suddenly stopped. She rolled him onto his back and gave him CPR while she waited for the ambulance, but he died before the EMTs or police arrived. She noticed the meat tenderizer lying on the floor under his chair. She said she picked it up. That’s when the police showed up.”

  That too lined up with what Lena had told her during her crying jag in the restroom.

  “Anyone swinging a mallet like that would be covered in blood.” Jordan held out his hand for the tablet. “Could I take another look?”

  “Sure.” Hank
stared down at the tablet, scrolled through the documents before holding it out to Jordan. “You can see from the picture she has some blood on her shirt, but not what I’d call spatter.”

  Tilly craned her neck to read the report from an angle. She could barely make out the pictures or the words, but she refused to ask Jordan for help.

  “Glasses?” Jordan’s whispered, the one-word question holding a touch of smug reproach.

  She put on her game face. “On my desk at work.” She squinted to bring the photo into some semblance of focus. Her colleague’s eyes were blank with shock. Bloodstains smeared her white top.

  “She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved white jersey. We took pictures from all angles. The CSU evidence collection team has her clothes locked in the evidence room. There’s a lot of blood on her garments, but not much spatter.” Hank sounded as incredulous and mystified as she felt.

  “Then why are they arresting her?” None of it made sense.

  “All the other evidence points to her. Crespo isn’t letting the lack of blood spatter get in the way of his investigation. The powers that be want the case—er, cases—closed ASAP.” Hank sounded as unconvinced as she felt.

  Jordan asked to look at the file once more and flipped through the statements. A frown puckered his brow. He stopped and glanced at Hank. “Lena’s bloody fingerprints were the only ones on the mallet?”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait. Only one set of fingerprints? Wouldn’t there be a housekeeper’s, David’s, or even Gretchen’s on the mallet as well?” The bad-mojo vibe hollowed her out. Someone they knew might very well be a killer. But who?

  Hank shook his head. “Gretchen testified that she’d just washed it and she was wearing rubber gloves.”

  “But Lena called the police.” She couldn’t see the logic behind their actions, but then Detective Crespo was a flint-gray bulldog. “Why would she do something like that if she were guilty?” Alice’s surreal journey in Wonderland made more sense.