Judy looked from Toni to me and back again. “Do you think it has anything to do with that crazy woman who made all those threats?”
“At this point we have no idea who’s behind it,” I said. “We don’t even know if the hit-and-run and the fire are related. At the risk of sounding like a conspiracy nut, I think that woman might have been wearing a disguise. And if I’m right about that, it puts a whole other perspective on what’s going on.”
Judy’s eyes widened. “Oh my God.” She seemed to digest this for a few seconds and then said, “That makes it even scarier.”
“Our thoughts exactly,” Toni said. “And you don’t know the worst of it.” She waited a beat for drama. “Jennifer was shot.”
Judy’s mouth dropped. “She didn’t die in the fire?”
Toni shook her head. “Her body was found in the rubble, but she’d been shot. And—” she paused for dramatic effect, “—the police think I was the intended victim.”
Judy’s eyes grew wider. “Was the fire set to try and hide the murder?”
“That’s one possibility,” I said.
“What are you going to do?” Judy asked.
Toni shrugged. “It isn’t as if there’s a lot I can do, short of standing in the street, waiting for whoever it is to come and get me.”
If I didn’t know her better, I might have thought Toni was enjoying this. I gave her the eyebrow. To Judy I said, “Don’t worry. The police are investigating. It’s just a question of time before they catch the killer.” And then I changed the subject. “Before I forget, Toni, one of us should call The Toronto Daily. Whether we reopen or not, we have to make sure we don’t lose that column. It’ll be worth a fortune in free advertising no matter what we end up doing.”
She looked at me as if I had rocks in my head. “I don’t see how it could be worth a dime if we decide not to reopen.”
“The food industry is huge,” I said. “Restaurants are only a small percentage of it. There’s catering—”
She grimaced. “Oh for God’s sake, will you forget that idea? Can you imagine me at some function walking around dressed in a little French maid’s outfit?” She glanced from Judy to me. “Don’t answer that.”
I tried to keep a straight face, but it crumpled into a grin. Judy laughed out loud. Even Toni was suppressing giggles. It was a welcome moment of lightheartedness.
Toni regained her composure. “Come on, be serious. Catering is the last thing I’d want to do—long days and even longer nights. We’d be on our feet eighteen hours a day.”
“Sometimes it feels like that already,” I said, still chuckling, “but I happen to agree with you. I’m just giving catering as one example. Then there’s also the gourmet-meal pick-up or delivery service.”
Judy said, “Oh, I love those. There’s one place in Ottawa where I go all the time.”
Toni nodded unenthusiastically. “I like that idea better.”
“Or, we could give skinny-cooking classes—teach people what kind of ingredients they can use to replace the high fat and sugar in their regular recipes.”
“That’s a great idea,” Judy said. “I’d sign up for something like that.”
Toni shook her head. “There’s no money in teaching. What else.”
“We could...” I snapped my fingers. “We could start a line of frozen diet meals. Or write diet cookbooks.”
Toni got a dreamy look in her eyes. “Written by Toni Lawford and Nicky Landry,” she said, underlining the imaginary line with her hands. “I’d be an author.”
“Don’t go shopping for your book-tour wardrobe until we’ve at least written the first page,” I said, stifling a laugh. “Those are just off the top of my head. There are countless other things we could do.”
“You’re right,” she said, showing some interest at last. “There are lots of opportunities. You know, maybe reopening wouldn’t be the best thing to do. We could think of something so much more exciting that operating a restaurant.”
Uh-oh. I’d gone a bit too far with my sales pitch. I had to do some backtracking, and fast. “I still think our best bet is to reopen our restaurant. Even if we did eventually decide to expand into other areas, Skinny’s could remain the parent company. I think your idea of finding a decent location before making a decision is a good one.”
Toni hesitated and looked at Judy, but her sister kept silent, leaving the discussion to us.
At least Toni hadn’t given me an outright no. But if I wanted her cooperation, I would have to let her choose the location—or at least make her believe it was her choice, otherwise my friend was likely to dig in her four-inch heels.
“It wouldn’t hurt to look,” Judy said. I could have kissed her.
Toni shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.” She retrieved my laptop from my bedroom and set it on the dining room table. I sat, and Judy drew up a chair and settled next to me, sharing the laptop.
Toni pulled out her iPhone. “Looking for a new location when we still don’t know who’s behind the hit-and-run and Jennifer’s death makes me nervous.”
“It would make me nervous too,” Judy said. “But you can’t put your life on hold until the police figure out what’s going on.” I was liking this woman more and more. “Let’s make a list of what you’re looking for, everything the space absolutely must have.”
“Good idea,” I said. We both turned to Toni, waiting until, after a long pause, she nodded.
We threw around some ideas and decided the most important was to find a commercial space that was already set up as a restaurant. Not having too many renovations would save us a bundle. The next “must” on the list was that the location be as close to downtown as possible. Last, the square footage should be larger than what we had on Queen, but still be small enough to feel cozy. Anything more would be a bonus.
“Why don’t you do the real estate listings, while I do the online classifieds?” I said.
“Good idea,” Toni said.
After a few more cups of coffee, we had a list of a dozen places that answered our criteria.
“Why don’t we go over what we have so far and eliminate all the listings we don’t like.”
We reviewed them, discarding some spaces as too big, another as small and too out of the way, and a couple as too expensive. By midafternoon we had narrowed the possibilities down to eight. We split the list down the middle. While I went to check on the dogs again, Judy and Toni started making calls, contacting the leasing agents for the more information. In the end we had a total of three commercial spaces worth seeing.
I looked over the printout. “If none of these works out, we’ll make a new list tomorrow.”
Judy looked from me to Toni. “Are you going to look at those places right now?”
Toni nodded. “We might as well drive by before we book appointments.”
I was about to plead fatigue and ask to postpone this until the morning, when Judy said, “I’d love to come along, but I’d better get back before Richard goes stir crazy.”
Toni threw me a look that said, “See what I mean?” To Judy she said, “Too bad. I’d like your input.”
“Why don’t we reconvene tomorrow morning?” I suggested. “That way Judy can join us.”
“You wouldn’t mind waiting until I can go with you?” Judy asked.
“Sure,” she said.
“What time?”
“Let’s make it early...say...ten?” Toni said.
“Ten?” Judy looked startled. “I was afraid you’d say seven. Sure, ten is fine.”
I laughed. “Ten is the crack of dawn for Toni.”
Judy went to the front, returning with her coat. “By the way, I know we said we’d have dinner tonight but after what you’ve been through, I think we should reschedule.”
I could tell from the look on Toni’s face that she’d completely forgotten about her dinner date.
“Tomorrow works for me,” she said.
“Great. I can’t wait for you to meet Richard. He’
s going to love you,” Judy said. She looked at me. “Why don’t you join us? I’d love you to meet Richard too.”
“I’d be happy to,” I said.
Toni jumped to her feet. “Hold off a second. I’m leaving too, so I might as well give you a lift back to the hotel.”
Soon they were both gone and, except for the dogs, I had the house to myself. I made myself a quick sandwich, eyeing a cherry pie in the freezer. I let the dogs out and then climbed up the stairs and curled up on my bed for a nap.
I’d intended on no more than a half hour snooze, just enough to keep myself going until bedtime, but when I next opened my eyes, it was dark. I glanced at my bedside clock—eight o’clock. I threw off the covers. Damn. I’d been sleeping for nearly four hours. Now I’d probably toss and turn all night and I’d feel like hell again all day tomorrow.
I went downstairs and pulled out the cherry pie I’d salivated over earlier. I popped it in the oven. Forty minutes later I’d just finished my second piece and was squashing major guilt when the phone rang. I glanced at the call display—Mitchell. My heart did a happy dance.
“Thank God I finally got you,” he said. “I was going crazy trying to reach you.”
“You were worried?”
“Yes. Didn’t you get my message? I called you back this morning. I must have tried your cell a dozen times, but it kept going to voice mail. And then when I finally hear from you, I find out you were in the hospital, hit by a car. What happened? Are you all right?”
All the insecurity I’d been suffering over the past few days faded away. “I’m okay, don’t worry.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Sorry about that. I thought Toni was going to call you, but after everything that happened it just slipped my mind.” I wasn’t trying to sound distant, but I wouldn’t mind him getting just a little bit jealous. “But, as Toni pointed out, there is a bright side to all this.”
“I can’t imagine what that would be.”
“Men are swarming around me, trying to be helpful. They’re opening doors, helping me in and out of cabs, carrying my parcels. I’ve never had so much attention in my life.” Okay, I was exaggerating, but I wasn’t about to admit that the only time a man had rushed to my help was when Toni happened to be standing next to me.
I heard his smile in his next words. “As long as nobody is helping you out of your clothes. I’d have to come back and shoot them.”
I laughed. “Oh, lots of them are trying, but I’m saving myself for this hot young author I know.”
He laughed, and his voice grew husky. “I miss you.”
My heart skipped a beat. “I miss you too.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? If you need me, I’ll hop on the next plane and come back.”
“You would do that?”
“Just say the word.”
That was all the reassurance I needed. “Don’t be silly. You have a book to edit. How’s it going, by the way?”
“Good. Bunny is amazing. I’m learning so much from her.” That was not what I wanted to hear. “Crutches, huh?” he continued.
I gave a little laugh. “You should see me. I’m getting good. Although, I suspect it might put a crimp in the bedroom acrobatics.”
“Don’t worry. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” There was a pause, and then as if he guessed that I was suddenly blushing, he changed the subject. “Well, I hope you’re taking it easy. You shouldn’t be going to work with a broken ankle.”
“Er, actually there is no more work to go to.”
I imagined his eyes growing dark and sexy the way they did when he furrowed his borrows. “What do you mean there’s no more work?”
“The restaurant is gone—burned down to the ground.” I told him what had happened, starting with the threats and ending with Jennifer’s death. He listened quietly.
And then he suddenly made the link between the threats and the hit-and-run. “Are you telling me that was not just an accident? Somebody was actually trying to kill you? And now they’ve destroyed the restaurant?”
I decided to make light of it. “That’s what I thought at first, but Steven is convinced the threats had nothing to do with the hit-and-run, that it was just some teenager who lost control of his car, panicked and sped away.”
“What about the fire? That’s a bit much for a coincidence. It sounds to me like somebody is out to get you. What are the cops doing?”
I hadn’t even told him about Jennifer being killed, and he was already freaking out—which I sort of liked. Still, I didn’t want him worrying too much. “You know the police. They have a million other cases to solve. Anyhow, I’m sure one had nothing to do with the other. Toni and I have been looking for another location.”
“You mean you’re planning to reopen? Are you crazy? You’d only be giving this lunatic another reason to come after you.”
“Actually, we think the arsonist was after somebody else.” I told him about Jennifer.
“You’re telling me one of your employees was murdered?” His voice had risen a full octave. “Are you sure you’re not in any danger?”
“That’s what Toni and Steven seem to think. Although I kind of like you worrying about me.”
The smile was back in his voice. “Well in that case, I’ll keep worrying. And I’ll hurry back and protect you as soon as I can.”
“Hmm, good idea.” I cleared my throat. “By the way, who’s that sexy blonde I keep seeing going into your house?” I was aiming for a light tone, but I didn’t quite achieve it.
“Blonde?” He chuckled. “That would probably be the location scout who rented my place for two weeks.”
“Location scout? What are you talking about?”
He laughed. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you. The day before my flight, just a few minutes after you left my place actually, a location scout stopped by. She was looking for an old Victorian house to use for a scene in a movie. She said my house was perfect.”
“Somebody wants to shoot a movie in your house? What kind of movie are they making?”
“Not an entire movie—just one scene. Probably some kind of horror flick about a serial killer.” He had his teasing voice on again. “Whatever it is, it’s obviously not a big budget production.”
I was stunned almost speechless. Of all the places a company might want to rent, Mitchell’s was the last I’d expect.
“Unless the blonde in question is one of the actors,” he continued.
“I doubt it. It doesn’t look like anything is going on. How long did the production house tell you they’d be filming?”
“They only said they’d need the place for ten days. I tried calling them, but there’s no more service at the number they gave me. It’s weird.”
I would have said that was more than weird. It was downright worrisome. “I hope they paid you in advance.”
“They gave me a deposit, and the balance is due at the end of the shoot. They said they’d email me the money.”
That did not fill me with confidence. Could this have been some kind of a scam? But if so, what for? To raid Mitchell’s house? I might have been worried if the thought wasn’t so ludicrous. The most valuable thing in Mitchell’s house was probably the tight designer jeans he liked to wear. Not exactly the kind of valuables anybody would go after—unless he happened to be wearing them.
“How much was the deposit?”
“Three hundred bucks.”
“A check, I suppose?” I hoped it wouldn’t bounce.
“No, she gave me cash. I was surprised, but she said deposits were always paid in cash.” He sounded unworried.
He changed the subject and we chatted on flirtatiously. By the time we hung up, I was feeling silly for all my doubts and insecurities. Bunny might be working with him day in and day out, but I was the one who had his heart. If not for my air cast I would have danced for joy.
*
The next morning I woke up feeling much better. After Mitchell’s phon
e call, I’d had my first good night’s sleep in nearly a week. Now if that case could only get solved, maybe I could actually go on with my life.
“How are you feeling this morning, Jackie Chan?” I said as I filled the doggie bowls. “Do you miss Mitchell too?”
She gave me a bleary look, as if to say, “One phone call and you’re all gaga over him again?”
“You would be too, Jackie, if you’d had a few of his kisses.”
She marched off disgusted.
I ground enough fresh beans for a pot of coffee and made myself a poached egg served on half an English muffin. I grated a bit of aged cheddar on top, added freshly ground pepper and some chopped fresh chives. Hopefully, my low-calorie breakfast would balance out the two large pieces of cherry pie I’d wolfed down last night. I consulted my calorie counter. Half a muffin—55 calories, one egg—65 calories, half ounce of cheese—67, for a total of 187 calories. How great was that? Feeling holier-than-thou, I poured myself a cup of coffee, adding real cream, and sat down to eat. I had just finished when the bell rang. I grabbed my crutches and hurried to the door.
“Jake,” I said, stepping aside. “Come on in. I just made a pot of coffee.” He followed me to the kitchen. I pointed him to the coffeepot. “Help yourself.”
He shook his head and joined me at the table, looking serious. “The police showed up at my place yesterday. They seem to think Jennifer’s murder was a case of mistaken identity—that Toni was the intended victim.”
I nodded. “They told us the same thing. They also seem to think I might have done it.”
“That’s just plain stupid,” he said. “I think they’re wrong. I think Jennifer might have been murdered on purpose.”
“What makes you say that?”
“According to Charles, Jennifer was having trouble with her ex. They’d only been separated about a year and the guy was being a jerk. He was stalking her, for one thing.”
“Did she report him to the police?”
He shrugged. “She was afraid it would only make things worse. But he was escalating. Whenever she went shopping, there he’d be, running into her in the vegetable aisle or something. And then when she’d leave the store, she’d find him waiting by her car. He called her constantly, begging one minute, threatening the next. She was spooked. She finally warned him that if he didn’t leave her alone, she’d get a restraining order.”
Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) Page 16