by Lynn Cahoon
Angie shook her head, wondering if Chef Nubbins thought chocolate made everything better. “I’m good. I’ve got to get to work. We’ve got a planning meeting.”
“Just know I’m rooting for you. You’re one of my favorite customers. And not just because you laugh at my jokes. Although that does help.”
Angie stayed for a few minutes, thinking about what Chris and Tara had just told her. Of course, Tara’s story had left out that she was in a relationship with the victim. Angie took out her phone and texted Sheriff Brown about what she’d found out. When the man finally responded, it was just one word.
Okay.
She waited to see if there was any follow-up statement, but after ten minutes, she gave up and took her empty cup to the dish return tub. Chris was still talking to the new customer, so she just waved and made her way out.
On her way back to River Vista and the County Seat, Angie dialed Felicia.
“Where are you? Estebe’s worried that you’re in a ditch somewhere,” Felicia asked, her voice lowered. Estebe must be nearby.
“I’m fine. Coming back into town now. I had coffee in Meridian with Tara.”
Angie heard the intake of breath. “Tea Cup Tara?”
“One and the same. Did you know she was having an affair with Chef Nubbins?”
A pause on the other end of the line answered Angie’s question.
“You did know. Why didn’t you say something?” Angie glanced at the speedometer and realized she was traveling more than ten miles over the posted speed. She dropped her foot off the gas. She’d get there when she got there. And she didn’t need a ticket.
“I didn’t know for sure. Yeah, I’d heard the rumors. But you can’t trust gossip. So many people just say anything.”
“Well, I think this source is credible. If they weren’t having an affair, they were really, really close once a week in a town always away from where his wife worked.” Angie changed lanes to go around a slow-moving tractor in front of her, thankful the road was four lanes. “Anyway, I’m on my way back. What are you doing?”
“We got back from lunch about one. Since then Estebe’s been helping me move furniture in my apartment. Let’s just say he’s ready to be back in his chef jacket, even if he is waiting for you.”
“Men just don’t understand the rules of relationships.” The official rules mean that you can ask them at any time to do a spot of manual labor. Like cleaning out flower beds or moving a chair from one room to another. She’d had Ian move boxes out of the attic and into her living room so she could start going through what Nona had left behind. From what she’d seen, the paper could be discarded in all the boxes, except her grandmother had a habit of writing recipes on the backs of receipts. So, every piece had to be examined before it was boxed up to burn in the fire. “Anyway, I’m coming up to the city limits now. Go tell him to start playing with whatever he wanted to present. I’ve got a few ideas too, but I want him to go first.”
“I’ll tell him. See you in a couple.”
Angie disconnected the call, and music filled her car. And since it was her favorite song, she let it go as she sang along, all the way to the back parking lot. She hurried up the stairs, locking her car door as she went. The door was unlocked, and she burst into the kitchen, tossing her tote on the chef’s table and going directly to the handwashing station.
“What’s up first?” She stepped closer to Estebe, loving the smell of grilled onions and peppers.
“I wanted to play with the idea of a sandwich on a stick. Maybe a Philadelphia cheesesteak or even a hamburger.” He showed her the hamburger grilling, wrapped around a stick.
She considered the options. “I like the idea, but I think we need to go further. Like, mashed potatoes in a tube or deconstruct something and put it on a stick.”
“So, you’re saying my ideas don’t go far enough.” He stared at the grilling hamburger.
Angie didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but there was no way they’d win with a dish like the one he was describing. She was about to speak when he nodded.
“You are right. This is pedestrian. We need a wow factor. Like chicken and dumplings on a stick.”
“Right idea, wrong season. Something summery. Something they’re already craving because they’re at the fair.” She pulled up a chair and a notebook. “Let’s brainstorm. I’ll put down the chicken and dumplings idea.”
“I thought you hated it.” He looked at her, curious.
“All ideas go on the page while we’re brainstorming.” She tapped her pen. “Besides, I didn’t hate the idea. I said it was the wrong season. So deconstructing a sandwich isn’t a bad idea either. What else do we have to work with?”
They spent the next thirty minutes working through a list. Finally, they decided on two to fix and then they’d make a final choice.
“The team will be able to help us choose what would be best.” Angie stretched her arms, tired from the activity. “Do you mind if I go to the office for a few minutes? I need to talk to Sheriff Brown.”
“He should not be putting you in harm’s way. If this man finds out what you’re doing, you might be the next one killed.” Estebe started mixing the batter that they’d use around the beef to mimic the bread for the first sandwich.
“Maybe it’s a woman. Did you ever think of that?” Angie teased as she made her way out to the hallway.
“Women do tend to use poison more often than men.” He nodded thoughtfully. When he saw Angie pause at the door, watching him, he shrugged. “What? I have been researching this situation as well.”
“You always surprise me,” Angie muttered as she left the kitchen. When she reached her office, she called the police station. The guy manning the phones hated her. And it didn’t seem like it mattered which officer was on duty. No one wanted her talking to Allen to be an easy task. When she was told the sheriff was out on a call, she left her name and number. Ten to one, her message would be lost. But she had an ace in the hole.
She dialed Ian’s number. And got his voice mail. Technology really wasn’t on her side today. She left him a message, telling him what she needed to tell the sheriff. As she hung up, she hoped this game of telephone tag would get the correct message across.
She hung up the phone and noticed the plans for the banquet room sitting on her desk. Felicia must have been working down here. She took a pen and a blank piece of paper and wrote: Make sure to get money ahead of time. The Tara Principle. That should remind her of what she wanted to tell Felicia later.
Feeling less than accomplished, she returned to the kitchen, where Hope and Matt had already arrived. She moved closer to Hope. “Did you get ahold of Bleak?”
“We were having coffee at the diner when Sheriff Brown burst in and took her away. He was mad. He said she’d be at work at her scheduled time.” Hope looked up from the knife cuts she was doing for prep. “I think he’s going to be sitting outside in his car all the time she’s working so she can’t take off again. My dad would do something like that.”
“Man, living with the police in your house must be a trip. You’d never know when you were going to be busted just for being you.” Matt pondered the situation.
“She doesn’t have the same problem as you do.” Estebe’s eyes twinkled.
“What’s that?”
“She’s a good kid. Not like you,” Estebe said.
Angie knew he was waiting for the fallout. And he didn’t have time to wait.
“I’m a good kid. I brush my teeth, say my prayers, and help set the table for family meal. What else is there?” Matt looked imploringly at Angie. “Come on, Ang, stand up for me here.”
The kitchen was back to normal. The teasing had resumed.
Chapter 15
“What’s jimsonweed?” Hope sat at the table reading one of her textbooks. “Has anyone heard of it?”
“Its rea
l name is datura, but it’s also called devil’s snare or trumpet.” Estebe glanced at the book. “Why are you studying deadly plants?”
“It’s a class on foraging for food. The professor says that if you don’t know what you’re trying to use, you could do some real damage. So we have to be able to identify all these plants and fungi by sight. I’m really not good at memorization.” She held out the book. “Besides, look at this picture. The flower is really pretty. It looks like a morning glory.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t eat anything you don’t find at a store.” Matt scrubbed the grill, the last task to closing up the kitchen.
Bleak had already come and gone, via her Sheriff Brown taxi service. She’d been quiet during shift today. When Angie had tried to start a conversation, Bleak had cut it short, blaming a headache.
“Wait a minute,” Angie said, holding out her hand as Hope started to turn the book away. “Let me see that.”
Angie took the book and studied the photo. There was no doubt. This was the same plant that she’d seen in Tara’s herb garden on Monday. She flipped through the pages. “Where does it talk about its toxicity?”
Hope took the book back and turned a few pages. Then she handed it back to Angie. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because that plant is in Tara’s herb garden.” Angie sank back into her chair. “Reading the effects, it could be what was given to Chef Nubbins. I wonder if Brandon had any hallucinations.”
“You don’t think Tara put this in their food, do you?” Hope stared at the book. It lay open on the table, the picture of the devil’s trumpet staring back at the group gathered around.
“I don’t know, but I know someone who can find out.” Angie wrote down all the names and side effects of the plant. It even had the names of the actual poisons that were hidden in the leaves. She gathered her stuff. “I’m heading home to check this out. Maybe we’ve found the killer. And taken out another one of the competitors for Friday’s event.”
“Way to look on the bright side.” Estebe opened the door for her. “Don’t mind us, we’ll close up and give the keys to Felicia.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Angie knew he was kidding with her, but she felt the smallest slight from his words. “You know, once this is done, I’ll have a lot more time to be with all of you.”
“Promises, promises.” He waved her away, toward her car. “Go play Nancy Drew. The rest of us have grown-up things to do.”
She tried calling Ian again, but got his voice mail once more. Apparently, Sheriff Brown was having problems convincing Bleak that they only had her best interests at heart. Which meant Sheriff Brown wouldn’t answer her call either.
Instead of talking, she relaxed and made her way home. Even if Tara wasn’t the killer, she might have just identified the murder weapon. Or at least something like that. If this plant was in Tara’s garden, what else did she have growing there? And who else used her small garden?
Too many questions, not enough answers. And still, not her job. It was still early by the time she got back to the house, so after she fed Precious and Mabel, she and Dom sat out on the porch, listening to the sounds of the night. Soybean crops filled the fields around her house. Besides Mrs. Potter, she didn’t have a neighbor closer than a couple of miles. And she didn’t know any of them. The soybean field down the side road across the street had been owned by River Vista’s former veterinarian. Rumor was, he had sold the property to an out-of-state developer.
Hoping that the area was too far out from any neighboring towns for a high-end subdivision, she pushed the worry out of her head. Tomorrow was her turn to get water from the irrigation ditch behind her property. She’d set it on the pasture behind the barn, and if she knew her goat, Precious would spend the day playing in the water as it flooded the field. If she had time, she’d pump some of the water over to the garden. Tomatoes were still growing on the aging plants, and she knew she would get a ton of potatoes, onions, and garlic when the frost threatened and she had to clear out the space for the next year.
Dom nuzzled her hand and she absently petted him. She checked her phone one more time, just to make sure she hadn’t missed a call, then decided to call it a day.
* * * *
The next morning, Ian was sitting on her porch when she got up to feed the barn crew. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you to get up. I set your irrigation water on the pasture.” He stood and kissed her. “Can I come in and get a refill? I ran out of coffee.”
“You should have just called to wake me up.” She glanced at the barn. “I guess you already fed the crew too.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m a full-service boyfriend.” He followed her into the kitchen and went over to the coffeepot to brew a cup. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like a rock. Which is unusual with so much in my head. I take it you were at Allen’s last night?”
“Yeah. Bleak’s aunt called and said she wants to take her home to Utah.”
“That’s good news.” Angie got her own cup out of the cupboard, and when his coffee finished brewing, put in a pod for herself.
“Yes and no. Bleak says if we send her back, she’ll just run away again. But she wouldn’t tell us why. I think she’s afraid that since he’s a police officer, he’ll have to do something about what she says.”
“What is he going to do?” If Bleak was that determined, they knew the girl wasn’t afraid of taking off again if she felt threatened.
Ian shook his head. “He’s not sure. Maggie’s crazy about her. She’s gone into baking mode. There were five different types of cookies out in the living room while we talked last night.”
“And no one from the state is pushing to get her placed?” Angie felt bad for the girl. Torn between childhood and adulthood, she was in a no-man’s-land.
“I guess since they know she’s safe with Maggie and Allen, they’re not pushing it. And, according to Allen, this aunt isn’t pushing to have her returned. She told the social worker she just wanted to talk to Bleak. But then, when Allen talked to her, it was all about getting her back home.”
“Weird. So, what’s her real name?”
He laughed as he stood to refill his coffee. “Apparently it’s Bleak. Magenta Bleak Hubbard. The community she grew up in is a little out there.”
“How do you look at your new baby and call her Bleak?” Angie opened her notebook. “Anyway, don’t answer that. I’m not sure I want to know her parents’ mind-set. Do you want to know what I found out about the murders?”
She went through her conversations with Tara and the fact she’d seen the poisonous plant in her herb garden at the restaurant. She showed Ian a picture of the plant she pulled up on her phone. “See?”
“I didn’t see that plant in the garden. And I looked at it pretty carefully. I was trying to see if there was a way for you to have one at the County Seat. But I think you’d have to buy the house across the alley from you and redo their backyard.”
“I already have one expansion project going. I’m not sure I need another one. Besides, what would I do with the house?”
He shrugged. “It’s just a thought. And you know property values are going to go up in River Vista soon. The urban sprawl of being Boise’s bedroom community is coming sooner rather than later.”
“Is the house even up for sale?” She had to admit, his reasoning was sound. But another house? Another mortgage?
“No. But you might want to take over some of Felicia’s cookies and talk to the owner about securing first right of sale on the property, if she does decide to sell. I can introduce you. She attends church with us.” He took her hand. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. Don’t worry about it. Now, I think you should tell Allen about the plant thing.”
“I know, but he won’t call me.”
As if she’d summoned him, her phone rang. Ian pushed the ce
ll closer to her. “I think maybe he was just busy yesterday?”
Angie answered the call, which was from Sheriff Brown, and told him about Miquel’s visit and talking to Tara. Then she brought up the plant. “I saw a plant like that in Tara’s garden.”
“You’re absolutely sure? This woman is already making noises about suing for harassment. She says she has connections in the government that are going to make me, specifically, sorry for calling out my ‘pet chef’ to ask her inappropriate questions.”
The implication that she’d gone over the line hung in the air. Then Angie remembered what Chris had told her. “Did she disclose that she was having an affair with the victim?”
Now it was Allen who fell quiet. Finally, he spoke. “No. I saw your text and just skimmed my notes from the first interview. She didn’t mention knowing Nubbins except by reputation. Can you prove this, or is it a rumor? You chefs seem to love to gossip.”
“Talk to Chris at The Library. He told me how she and Nubbins met for coffee once a week. And his friend works at the hotel where they had a standing reservation. If the room doesn’t have a full kitchen unit, I think there’s only one implication you can draw from that.” She glanced over at Ian, who was grinning at her.
“Let me do some research on that theory. Even so, it doesn’t mean she killed him.”
After she hung up, she glanced up at the clock. It wasn’t quite eight. If they left now, no one should be at the restaurant. She finished her coffee. “Drive me and I’ll buy you breakfast.”
“Drive you where? Or do I want to know?”
She checked Dom’s food and water, then picked up her keys and tote. “You probably don’t want to know. We’re going to take a picture and send it to your uncle.”
“So back into the lions’ den? Are you sure your middle name isn’t Danielle?”
She locked the door as they moved to the porch. “Nice Bible reference.”
“I was wondering if you’d notice. You really should attend my adult class. You’d be surprised at all the things I know.” He held the door to the truck open for her.