Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery)

by Domovitch, Monique

  “When was that?”

  “About a week ago.”

  I calculated quickly. That would have been just a few days before I was hit by that car.

  “And there’s something else,” he continued. “It turns out that her ex is a fireman.”

  This floored me. “Well, that settles it. He must have started that fire. I can’t think of anyone who would know better how to start one than a fireman.” My head was spinning. “Did you tell the police?” With any luck, he would be apprehended, if he hadn’t already been, and all suspicion would be off me. Toni and I would no longer feel like walking targets. We could reopen our restaurant without worrying.

  “I did, but I have no idea if they questioned him or not.” He still looked troubled and I realized there was more to come. “I’m worried about Charles. I suspect he’s going to take matters into his own hands. I’m pretty sure he’s on his way to confront Jennifer’s ex right now.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “He was on his laptop for a long time this morning. He looked so focused that I got suspicious. At one point he went to the washroom and I got a peek at his screen. It was just as I thought. He was searching through the online phone listings for every Atwood in Toronto. He came back and continued working at the computer for a while, and then he wrote something down on a piece of paper and took off in a rush. When I asked him where he was going, he said he had a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t an excuse. Maybe he really did have a doctor’s appointment.”

  He looked me straight in the eye. “People don’t bring guns when they go to the doctor.”

  “Oh my God!” My first thought was Call the police. But what if they arrested him for carrying a gun? “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I blurted. “Do you have any idea where he was going?”

  “I copied down the last address he had on his computer. Here it is,” he said, pulling out a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket.

  “Let’s go,” I said, already making my way over to grab my coat.

  “My car’s out front,” Jake said, “and I have a GPS.”

  I got my purse, threw in my cell phone, and we took off. In the car, I punched in Toni’s number. It was still early by Toni standards but to my surprise she answered sounding out of breath.

  “This isn’t a good time,” she said, languorously. “I’m fucking busy.” She sighed. “I wish it were the other way around.”

  At any other time I might have been amused, but today I didn’t have time for any of her smart-alecky remarks. “We’ll have to postpone those drive-bys until two-thirty,” I said briskly, and repeated what Jake had just told me. “Can you call Judy?”

  I hung up without waiting for her reply, and held onto the grab bar for dear life. Jake was driving like a maniac, zigging and zagging through traffic at neck-breaking speed. I squeezed my eyes shut as he swerved between two huge trucks. Dear God, let us make it there alive.

  My cell phone rang. “Nicky? Are you there?” It was Toni. “Judy agreed to meet at your place at two.”

  “That works for me too, as long as I survive this car ride.” I hung up and looked out. We were on the Gardiner Expressway heading west. “How far away does he live?” I asked, hoping we’d take the next exit. Even if I didn’t get killed in a car crash, I might still die of a heart attack.

  “Near Bloor West Village. We’re almost there. I don’t know whether he’s home or at work right now. With any luck, he’ll be at work and Charles will be outside ringing his doorbell when we get there.”

  A few minutes later we came to a tire-screeching stop in front of a pretty barn-style house, just steps from High Park. After seeing the house where she lived with Charles, I was surprised at the modesty of this one. It answered one question. If the house in Cabbagetown belonged to Jennifer, it was unlikely her wealth came from her ex-husband—unless she’d cleaned him out in a separation agreement. That, in itself, could give an ex a good reason to be mad as hell. Or, for all I knew the house belonged to Charles, and if it did, I wondered how he could afford a place like that.

  “There he is.” As he said this, I spotted Charles creeping stealthily around the corner of the house. Jake jumped out of the car, slamming the door shut. I fumbled with the door and my crutches, and followed.

  “Charles,” Jake called out.

  Charles swung around and his face grew fierce. “You had no business following me. Get out of here.”

  “Charles Bateman,” I said, with as much authority as I could muster. “What do you think you’re doing?” As I got closer, I could see something metallic in his hand—a gun. He stuffed it back in his pocket, looking guilty.

  For a second I couldn’t help wondering whether this might be the gun that had killed Jennifer.

  “You had no business following me,” he repeated more mildly.

  I stopped a few steps from him. He looked so vulnerable that I dropped the stern tone. “You know I care about you, Charles. And you know I cared for Jennifer too. Believe me, I know how you feel. I’ve been there, remember?” Charles had witnessed my own grief when Rob was killed.

  His eyes watered suddenly. “It—it’s just so hard. I loved her so much,” he said, in a choked voice.

  I wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “I know, Charles, I know. But please don’t do anything you’ll regret later. Why don’t you come back with us and let the police take care of this?”

  At that moment the front door flew open and Bret Atwood stepped out. Jennifer’s muscular husband looked ready to fight, hands tightly fisted at his side. He stared at Charles. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  No wonder Jennifer had been afraid of him. Some men’s features looked particularly fierce when they were angry. Bret Atwood was one of them.

  He continued, his face a mask of rage, “Haven’t you done enough already? Jennifer and I were happy until you came around.”

  I suddenly remembered the gun Charles was carrying, and stepped between him and Atwood. “There’s no reason to get upset, Mr. Atwood. Nothing happened. We’re leaving right now.”

  “No reason to get upset? How am I supposed to feel? Three days ago Jennifer and I agreed to give our marriage a second chance. And twenty-four hours later she’s dead.” Atwood glared at Charles. “You killed her, you son of a bitch.”

  And before I realized what he was doing, he’d sidestepped me and was lunging at Charles. Fists flew and, seconds later, Charles lay on the sidewalk, blood oozing from his nose.

  He looked up at Atwood, his face ashen. “She was leaving me?” He looked so stunned that I just knew he wasn’t pretending. “That’s a lie,” he said, sounding uncertain.

  All at once, the fight seemed to leave Atwood. “She didn’t tell you?”

  Charles struggled back to his feet and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his coat. “She was leaving me? I don’t believe you.” He stared at Atwood. “You’re only trying to throw suspicion on me because you killed her. You murdered her, you son of a bitch.”

  “Me?” Atwood said, outraged. “That’s ridiculous. If anybody had a reason to kill her, it wasn’t me. It was you.”

  Charles paled. “I didn’t kill her. I loved her,” he said, his fury rising again. “And I don’t believe for one minute that she was going to leave me. I’d just asked her to marry me. And for your information, she said yes.”

  Atwood looked dumbfounded. “Fuck you,” he said at last, lurching forward.

  Both Jake and I jumped in front of him before things got out of control again. Which might not have been a good idea, because seconds later I was lying on the hard sidewalk, my crutches strewn yards away. This put an immediate end to the brawl. Atwood took a step back, embarrassed. Charles and Jake scrambled to help me back to my feet.

  “Are you okay?” Jake asked, his eyes scanning me for injuries.

  “I’m all right,” I said, although the fall had jolted my ankle and now it throbbed painfully.

  “You don�
�t look all right,” Charles said.

  “It’s just my ankle. Oh, God it hurts.”

  He spun around to Atwood. “See what you did, you moron.”

  Atwood stormed back inside his house and slammed the door shut.

  I gritted my teeth against the pain and after a few moments it dissolved. “Let’s get out of here before he calls the police.” We made our way to Jake’s car.

  “Charles,” I said, sliding into the back seat as he held the door open for me. “You shouldn’t be carrying a gun. What if Atwood called the police? You could get arrested.”

  He reddened and snatched it out of his pocket, handing it to me.

  “I don’t want it,” I said, pulling my hand away. The gun dropped to the sidewalk and, for one split second, I saw my life flash before my eyes. I imagined the gun firing, a bullet ricocheting and hitting me.

  Seeing the look of panic on my face, Charles gave me a jaundiced smile. “You don’t have to be afraid. It’s not loaded. In fact,” he said, stooping to pick it up, “it’s not even a real gun. It’s a lighter.” And to demonstrate, he pulled the trigger and a flame came out of the barrel. “I only wanted to scare him—make him admit that he killed her.”

  “Of all the cockamamie plans,” I muttered, as he closed the door and climbed into the front. “You’re just lucky nobody got seriously hurt.”

  half a dozen buff young men in tow

  At two-thirty Judy arrived, eager to get going, and soon after Toni showed up. “So, what are you waiting for?” she said. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  I threw on my coat, locked up, and we piled into Toni’s car. I filled them in as we got into her car.

  “So if it wasn’t Jennifer’s ex and it wasn’t Charles,” Judy said, “who’s left?”

  “Not so fast,” I said. “I’m not convinced her ex is as innocent as he claims. For one thing, he was stalking Jennifer. And stalkers often become violent when their victim doesn’t do what they want.”

  Toni paused, key in the ignition. “Do you really think it could be him?” She looked relieved. “That would mean it wasn’t a case of mistaken identity.”

  “I would very much like it to be him. It would make both of us feel a lot safer.”

  “What do you mean, both of us? I didn’t see anyone suggesting you were at risk.” Toni put her car into drive and we took off.

  “If you were the intended victim, that would make me the most likely suspect—at least in the eyes of the cops,” I said tightly from the backseat. “The police always start by looking at whoever has the most to gain financially. So, guess who they’d go after?”

  Judy looked at me, bewildered.

  Toni caught my eyes in the rearview mirror. “Perhaps, but I’d still rather be a suspect than a victim.”

  “So far, I’d say I’m more of a victim than you are. I’m the one wearing a cast.”

  She ignored my comment. “Her ex might turn out to be innocent, just as Charles could turn out to be guilty. Remember, you can’t tell a liar any more than you can tell a killer.” For once, Toni’s quote was a serious one. She grimaced. “Enough talk about murder. I don’t want to spend the rest of the day worrying that somebody wants me dead. All I want, at least for a little while, is to go look at real estate, so not a word about murder out of either one of you. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No problem.” I’d had enough of the subject too.

  “I thought we should start with the place on King,” Toni said, as she turned left onto Queen, a route that would take us by Skinny’s. My heart constricted.

  A few blocks later traffic came to a crawl as looky-loos slowed for a look at the charred remains of our restaurant. We drove at the speed of a funeral procession, inching by and staring mutely. If anything, the devastation looked worse by daylight—the charred remains of my life’s dream. I took in the gaping hole where the front window had been, and the frayed, burned fabric of the curtain, swaying in the breeze. The ceiling had caved from the weight of the water. Soggy plasters and broken ceiling pipes now joined the rubble on the floor. It was a heartbreaking sight.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Toni said mournfully. She sped up.

  “One good thing about the place on King,” I said, trying to inject some optimism in our excursion, “is how close it is to this location—only half a dozen blocks.”

  “Good point,” Judy said.

  “You see that as an advantage?” Toni said. “I look at it as a drawback. Once all the repairs are done on Queen, and we reopen, our two locations will be too close to each other.”

  I was dumbfounded. “I can’t figure you out. One minute you don’t want to reopen at all. And the next, you’re talking about operating two restaurants.” With any luck, after all the work of getting the first one going, Toni would be less enthusiastic about opening a second one.

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ll be damned before I let some homicidal maniac control my life. If I have to hire some bodyguards for protection, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  I nearly burst out laughing at the image of Toni with half a dozen buff young men in tow. I wouldn’t put it past her to hire them for the eye candy alone. Now that was the Toni I knew and loved.

  “Good for you, Toni. You have such a great attitude,” Judy said.

  As we drove along, I found myself glancing back after every intersection. Toni watched me from the rearview mirror.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked after a few blocks.

  “Call me paranoid, but I’m just making sure nobody is following us.”

  Judy swiveled around in her seat. “Do you see anybody?”

  I looked again. “There are so many cars it’s difficult to tell.” A number of them had been behind us for the past few blocks, but as we drove through the next intersection, two of the three turned right. A few hundred yards later the last one sped up and passed us.

  “It looks like we’re good,” I said. Toni’s eyes lost their fear and her hands relaxed their grip on the wheel.

  She pointed to a storefront. “There it is.” The space was at the street level of an old brownstone. She slowed to a crawl and swerved into a parking lot across the street.

  “Not here,” Judy said. “You and I might not mind crossing the street on foot, but I think Nicky would rather we park a bit closer.”

  I nodded toward my crutches. “If a car decides to hit me, I wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of getting out the way with these things.”

  “I doubt anybody’s out to mow you down, but I’ll park closer all the same,” Toni said. She pulled out of the parking lot and circled the block, until after going around twice she scored a spot a few feet from the entrance. “Is this close enough?” she asked, grinning at me from the mirror. “Or do you need to take a cab from here?”

  We left the car and soon were peering through a dirty window at an empty and very dusty interior.

  “This place looks awful. Must have been a fast-food restaurant,” Toni said. “I didn’t think anything could look worse than the way our Queen location did when we took it over, but this one beats it hands down.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Judy said. “At least it still has booths and a food counter. Maybe after a good scrubbing—”

  Toni shook her head, already walking away. “That might work if we were running a cafeteria, but we need an upscale location for our restaurant. We’d have to gut this place entirely. And did you see the grease on the ceiling? It’s practically coming down in stalactites. Ugh. Forget this one.”

  “I don’t think it’s that bad,” I said, even though I was secretly glad she hated it. “The next one on the list might be better.”

  “It can’t be worse,” she retorted.

  This time we headed north to an address on Avenue Road. Again, I kept checking behind, and again nobody seemed to be following us. Judy asked about various sights along the way.

  “That’s the ROM,” Toni said, answering one of her questions.
“The Royal Ontario Museum.” And a few blocks later, “That’s Hazelton Lanes—the first few floors are a shopping center, the rest are all condos. That’s where I live.”

  Toni’s condo was on the top floor, a gorgeous, four-thousand-square-foot condo. We drove on. This time, Toni found a parking spot just a few doors down from where we were going. I struggled out of the car and joined Judy, who was already staring through the store window.

  “This place is wonderful,” she said, excitedly. “Come and look, Toni. I just know you’ll love it.”

  Toni was standing a few feet away, arms crossed as she studied the building. “It looks all right from the street. The location is good, between two dress shops.”

  I looked inside. Judy was right. It was a beautiful space. I only hoped my friend liked it too. She stepped closer and peered inside. I held my breath.

  She walked over, peering through the glass with her hands like blinders around her eyes. “Ohhh, I love this one.” She turned to Judy, smiling. “You’re right. This place is great. What do you think, Nicky? It looks good, don’t you think?”

  Knowing Toni, agreeing too fast might have the completely opposite effect. I squinted and peered inside again. The interior was about twice as big as our present location and, from what I could see, it wouldn’t need much work. The ceilings were a disappointing nine feet high instead of the eighteen feet we now had. But they were free of the crisscross of old metal pipes we’d struggled to disguise.

  “It reminds me of Skinny’s on Queen, but bigger. Aren’t you afraid it might be too big?”

  “What are you talking about? We decided bigger was what we wanted. It’ll give us room to expand.” She went back to examining the inside like a child looking through the window of a candy store. “Look at that floor. It’s industrial vinyl flooring—the latest thing—worth a fortune.”

  I hadn’t noticed the floor. Granted, it did look impressive, solid black with textured silver-dollar-size rondelles.