by Polly Holmes
“I want to see him,” Olivia said as she headed toward the cool room, determination in her step.
The kitchen erupted into movement, each person eager to shield Olivia from suffering the inevitable emotional damage. Savannah hastily stepped in front of her, blocking the way. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Trust me, the initial shock may be too much for you. I know it was for me.”
Olivia stopped. Her shoulders began to shake, and Margarete knew deep in her gut the devastation about to trample her heart like a cement truck. Tears brimmed Olivia’s eyes and within moments, the dam had broken and she’d fallen into a heap in Cassidy’s arms.
“Oh, Pierre,” she sobbed through grief-stricken gasps. “I can’t believe you’re gone. I’ve only just found you. You were the love of my life.”
Tears clouded Margarete’s vision and her pulse raced. It was a private moment they were all intruding on. The overwhelming sensation of regret washed over her. Would she ever fall in love with someone so whole-heartedly that her life would be devastated if she lost them?
Cassidy held Olivia tightly and rubbed her back in soothing circles. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If there is anything me or my sisters can do, please let us know.”
Olivia pushed herself away from Cassidy’s grasp and turned her evil gaze on Margarete. “You can promise me Pierre’s murderer will be brought to justice. Can you do that?”
“No, they can’t. But I can,” Kayne said as he entered the kitchen, followed eagerly by Daniel from The Chronicle.
“So, Kayne, does that mean you have a lead on the murderer?” Daniel said a little too eagerly.
A grumpy Kayne spun on his heel, almost barrelling Daniel over. “I’ll tell you again what I told you out there. Solving the murder of Pierre Bellamy is my number one priority. I know it’s your job to report on the happenings around Ashton Point and as soon as we have information we can legally share, you’ll know about it. Now, if you will kindly return to the group and ensure Robert has taken your statement before you leave?”
Daniel grunted and headed for the exit in a huff.
“If it’s information you’re after, I can help you there,” Olivia said wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the back of her palm. Her arm slashed the air like a sword, her finger pointing directly at Margarete. “I’d start with her. Both Pierre and Margarete were vying for the same piece of real estate to start a restaurant. I guess she didn’t want to lose. She sent a hostile letter to Pierre this last week. With some threatening words, I might add.”
“I did no such thing,” Margarete snapped.
Kayne pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll get to the letter in a second. First, I want to know how you know it was Pierre.”
All eyes turned on Olivia. Margarete’s anxieties were at their breaking point. “Yes, Olivia. Tell us. How did you know?”
A warm ruby-red blush worked its way up Savannah neckline. She slowly raised her hand. “I guess that may be my fault,” she said in a sheepish tone. “I didn’t mean to. When we went back out to join everyone, it kind of hit me all at once and I didn’t want to burst into tears in front of all the guests. I made it to the ladies’ just in time. It sounded empty but I didn’t check the stalls and Mary-Jane came out and saw that I was upset. It just all came blurting out. I’m so sorry, Margarete. I didn’t think she’d tell anyone. Honest.”
Brows coming together, Kayne looked at Clair. “Mary-Jane?”
“From the chemist.”
Kayne nodded and continued. “Margarete, can you tell me your movements of this evening?”
“Well,” Margarete racked her mind, replaying the evening over and over. “We were flat out, as you can imagine. After Pierre left, it was full steam ahead. Savannah and I were in and out of the kitchen. I wouldn’t have been gone for more than ten minutes at a time.”
“Actually,” Antony’s voice cut Margarete’s word short. “You were out for about thirty minutes at one time. I remember because I was unsure how you wanted the crab-cream cheese wontons plated.”
Heat consumed her body, working a blaze up from her chest to her face. Everyone was waiting, waiting for her answer, but what could she say? Oh yeah, besides taking a moment for myself to go to the staff bathroom, I was pretending to be busy checking tables for empty plates so I could spy on McDreamy—I mean Logan Hunter—hoping he would notice me.
Margarete stood her ground, folding her arms across her chest. She was innocent and no amount of accusation was going to change that. “I was busy working, Antony. The guests would have seen me, and I’m sure the security cameras would have caught me doing my job.”
“Can anyone vouch for you?” Kayne asked.
“I was flitting around, Kayne. I chatted to people all the time, but I didn’t sit down and strike up a conversation with any of them.”—Although there was one person I would have liked to chat to—“I am here to work, not socialise.”
“Apart from this evening, have there been any other incidents involving you and Pierre?” He asked.
Margarete paused and bit the inside of her bottom lip. “Well, depends what you call incidents. Sure, we’ve had words before, but who hasn’t with the competition? I didn’t hate the guy. Far from it. But I wouldn’t say we had the best relationship. After all, we’re rival chefs in a small town. We’re both trying to make a living. We had our moments, but none that I would consider strong enough ‘incidents’ that would warrant me shoving my chef’s knife in his back.”
Savannah stepped forward. “There was that one time he came into the café a few weeks back, remember? He was in the foulest of moods, ranting and raving about how he was going to beat you at your own game or something like that.”
Olivia glared daggers in her direction. “See, I told you.”
Margarete’s jaw dropped. “Yes, but that was just friendly competition. It doesn’t mean I killed him. I’m not about to knock off every rival chef that moves into Ashton Point. Personally, I think my cooking speaks for itself.”
Her world was crashing down around her ears and she was helpless to stop it. Three hours ago, she’d had her future neatly wrapped up in the palm of her hand. Now, a horrible black cloud hung over her existence. The displeased expression on Kayne’s face sent a shard of fear bolting through her.
Kayne sighed and a gust of breath escaped his lips. “Margarete, I think it would be best if we continued this discussion down at the station.”
Gasps and mumbled words of shock filled the tense room. Bile lodged itself in the back of Margarete’s throat as her stomach knotted in alarm. Her pulse’s speed increased under accusatory eyes of the onlookers.
“I know it was my knife, but I did not kill him,” she blurted, the sharpness of her voice like nails down a chalkboard. “Olivia, you have to believe me.”
An eerie stillness ascended upon the kitchen. All eyes focused solely on Olivia. Waiting. “No, I don’t.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Olivia. Margarete didn’t kill Pierre any more than I did,” Charlotte said in an impatient huff. “Don’t worry, everything is going to be okay. I promise. We’ll be right here to help if you need it.”
Charlotte’s reassuring smile was the first glimpse of hope Margarete had felt since this nightmare began. “Thank you.”
“Ready,” Kayne asked.
Margarete’s haunted gaze returned to Kayne. “You really can’t be serious?
“Deadly.” Kayne cringed as his spoken word hung heavy in the air. “Sorry, I meant very serious. There appears to be a lot more to discuss. I’m sure there will be a simple explanation, but I’d like to get it all on tape for the record.”
Margarete swallowed the gigantic knot in the back of her throat and nodded. Her gaze caught the sly grin spread across Olivia’s expression and her resolve came back tenfold. She rolled her shoulders back and stood tall as she walked out of the kitchen, followed Kayne, determined to prove her innocence one way or another.
Stay strong. Oma always said, the truth will
always win out in the end. They can’t convict me of murder if I tell the truth.
Chapter Four
Anger raced through Margarete’s body inch by inch. “I am only going to say this one more time, Kayne. I. Did. Not. Kill. Pierre. Bellamy.” She’d already explained the disagreement earlier this evening at least three times. Kayne’s incessant questioning, combined with the stale stench in the interrogation room, was starting to wear thin. Her head throbbed. She was beginning to sound like a broken record.
Kayne tapped his pencil on the edge of his notebook. “Margarete, for what it’s worth, I don’t believe you had anything to do with Pierre’s death. But I’ve got a job to do and the sooner we get this cleared up, the sooner you can go home.”
In the depths of her heart she knew he was right. “Okay, I’m sorry.”
Kayne smiled, and although it didn’t quite make it up to his honey-brown eyes, it was easy to see why Alexandra had fallen hopelessly in love with him. “So, you said earlier that you were out of the kitchen for about thirty minutes. What were you doing all that time?”
Margarete bit her bottom lip and leant back in her seat. “Well, I made a visit to the staff toilet and then did my rounds of the room, collecting empty plates and you know, just checking on how everything was going.”
“So, how come no-one can vouch for you at any point during this time?”
Oh for goodness sake, just come out and say it. It’s not going to do you much good to keep it a secret if you’re sitting in a jail cell eating bread and water for the rest of your life.
“If you must know, I was trying to get the attention of Logan Hunter.” Kayne’s frown was like a slap in the face to her ego. “I was trying to look busy but really I was just moving around without really doing too much or talking to too many people, hoping that I might attract his eye.”
“Mmmm.”
Her eyes widened. “‘Mmmm?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means for the time being, you have bigger issues to think about than romance. Like why your chef’s knife was found plunged deep into Pierre’s back.” His paused, obviously waiting for a reply but her words failed her. “And what about the argument at the café that Savannah was talking about?”
The image of Pierre’s grumpy face sprang to the forefront of her mind and her annoyance at his arrogant behaviour riled her insides once again. Dead or not, he had no right to behave in such an appalling manner. “Pierre stormed into the café about three weeks ago, ranting and raving about how I was out to destroy him. As Olivia said, we both wanted the lease on the old Italian restaurant at John’s Cape. He accused me of stealing his dream and was saying, loudly I might add, that my cooking wasn’t fit to feed to the local rats, let alone people. He was the one who threatened me and said he’d make me pay for what I’d done. I managed to get rid of him before he did too much damage. Although, I did offer all customers a free coffee or cake to apologise for the disturbance.”
Kayne took several notes as she spoke. “Get rid of him? Sounds like motive for murder to me.”
Margarete coughed, choking on her words. “W-what are you talking about?”
“Get Pierre out of the way and the lease is all yours. Eliminate the competition.”
“No. No. No.” She shook her head. Kayne’s matter-of-fact tone, mixed with the overpowering odour of cigarettes and male sweat, clouded her mind. “That is crazy. I had nothing against Pierre. He was an amazing chef. Besides, anyone could have accessed my knife. I placed it on the dish rack when I finished using it. If, as you say, I was out of the kitchen for thirty minutes, anyone, including Antony and Savannah, could have snuck in and used it to kill Pierre. I’m sure I’m not the only one in this town Pierre Bellamy held a grudge against. It seems to me there are more questions than answers.”
Kayne flipped another page in his notepad over. “You may be right. Until we have an exact time of death, we can’t eliminate anyone, including you I’m afraid. But what I can do is promise you I will leave no stone unturned until I find the truth. Whatever it may be.”
His words both delighted and frightened Margarete at the same time.
He continued. “I think we can call it a night for now. I know I don’t have to ask you not to leave town while the investigation is active.”
Where am I going to go? I have a business to run.
“I’m sure there will be more questions to be asked, but for now, why don’t I arrange to get you home? I think your day has been long enough.” He pulled his business card out of his pocket and handed it to her. “Here, take this. If you can think of anything else that might help the investigation, feel free to ring me day or night.”
****
“This is not happening. This is not happening,” Margaret muttered under her breath. She walked on rote out of the interrogation room and into the reception area. Her heart just about stopped dead inside her chest. The sexy silhouette of Logan Hunter stood reading the police information notice board.
What on earth is he doing here? She hadn’t expected anyone to be here when she came out, especially McDreamy. Self-preservation kicked her in the butt and she quickly finger brushed her dishevelled hair into a respectable picture and wiped her face in an attempt to freshen her look. She sucked in a deep breath and headed toward him, unable to keep her gaze off his tight derriere.
She cleared her throat. “Logan?” He spun and his concerned expression deep in his chestnut-brown eyes had her off kilter. “What are you doing here?”
“Margarete. Are you okay?” he asked, rushing to her side. “You’ve been in there for ages. What did they say? Have they any more information?”
“Woah, slow down.” Margarete held up her hand to halt his questions. Her brow creased, confusion spreading in her chest. “Logan, what are you doing here?”
He shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “I guess it is kind of strange, since we only met this evening.”
“You could say that.”
“I’m all too familiar with people being accused of a crime they didn’t commit.” Genuine concern feathered across his expression and she felt it deep in her chest.
“Thank you for coming down, but I’m perfectly fine. Actually, I half expected one of the McCorrson ladies to be here,” Margarete said, her heart deflating just a little.
“I have a confession to make.” Logan started shuffled from foot to foot like a shy teenager. “When I saw you leaving with Officer Pendleton, I knew something was up. There was so much commotion at the country club. I wanted to get out of there and if I’m honest, I was worried about you.”
“You were?” she whispered.
He nodded. “Charlotte and Cassidy were about to follow you when I convinced them to tell me what was going on. I was shocked that anyone would think you could do such a ghastly deed. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked if I could come and pick you up. I wanted to make sure you were all right for myself.”
Mind. Why would I mind? McDreamy can pick me up any day. Her lips pursed together, and she shook her head.
“Does that mean you don’t mind that I came to pick you up…or no you don’t want me to pick you up?” he asked with hesitation in his tone.
“No, I don’t mind.”
The twangy voice of Alison, the police receptionist, cut their conversation short. “Margarete, someone will be out shortly to take you home.”
Unable to take her eyes from Logan’s, she called out loud enough for the entire front desk to hear. “It’s okay, Alison. Don’t bother. I have a lift home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” Margarete said over her shoulder, catching Alison’s cheeky smile as she slid her strawberry glasses to the tip of her nose.
Logan spoke as they headed toward the exit. “Oh, and Charlotte said to give you a message.”
“Oh?”
“It was kind of weird, but she said there will be plenty of time to catch up on Grey’s Anatomy at another time. Something about a match. She said you
’d know what she meant.”
Charlotte McCorrson! Why, you little match maker.
“Did I get the message wrong?” Logan asked as he opened the door of his blood-red Range Rover.
She shook her head and paused to admire the smooth curves of his car. “Not at all. Is this your car?”
“I wish.” He chuckled. “It’s my dad’s car. He and my step-mum were supposed to attend the anniversary celebrations together, but Dad got called away for work and my step-mum doesn’t drive. So when she asked me to bring her, I couldn’t exactly say no. I don’t normally socialise with Elaine’s society friends. But I’m glad I did.” He gave her a little wink and her heart did a flutter.
“Me too.”
After she gave him her address they drove in a comfortable silence, but Margarete could sense a growing electricity building between them. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. It had been so long since a man had kissed her. What was she thinking? She was getting way ahead of herself. He was being nice, that’s all. Her cheeks heated in embarrassment. She was confusing politeness with romantic interest.
How can I possibly be thinking about men, when I have a murder accusation hanging over my head? That’s it. Men are off the table until the real murderer is caught, and I don’t have to worry about running cooking lessons dressed in the disgusting green for inmates at the local prison.
The thought sent a shudder through her body.
****
Logan’s gut clenched like a twisted elastic band with each kilometre he drove. He glanced in her direction occasionally and feared she was going to break at any moment. She held her focus straight ahead on the road, but the way her brown hair softly hung over her shoulders tempted him. He knew from Charlotte that she was single, but what she needed right now was a good friend and a good listener, and that was something he prided himself on.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Not really much to talk about. I suspect they think I killed Pierre out of jealousy. Of all the absurd reasons to kill someone. Jealousy.”
“That is ludicrous. Although, having tasted your food tonight, I am kind of jealous that I can’t cook that well. Maybe I should enlist your services to teach this bachelor how to make a good meal.”