Eggsecutive Orders

by Julie Hyzy

  I sat back, unsure where to go from here.

  Steve wiped his eyes. “I stopped looking for answers. I failed.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “There’s more,” Suzie said.

  I glanced at her, then back to Steve, who picked it up again. “Everything went quiet for a long time. We all worked hard, all graduated. Carl moved into bigger and bigger positions of power, and eventually got to his position at the NSA.” Steve wagged a finger at me. “I always made it a point to keep up with his career. Just in case. I figured Carl forgot about me. Well, at least until Suzie and I got the TV show. Then, all of a sudden, we’re stars.” He smiled. “Small stars, but, you know, kinda well known.”

  I nodded.

  “Out of the blue, Carl calls me. About a month ago, I think. Wasn’t it?”

  Suzie was biting her lip. She nodded.

  “He starts out like we’re old friends, but pretty soon he’s gloating, saying that he remembers what his dad did for me all those years back. He tells me that he never had anything to do with Mary leaving school or killing herself, but he always resented the fact that I believed he did. And that’s when he tells me that our positions had been reversed.”

  “What?” I was totally confused.

  “He says that now that he’s in charge of NSA investigations, he’s going to take a look into my file and see if I’ve ever been involved in any terrorist activities.”

  My mouth opened. I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Suzie spoke up. “We didn’t know who the guests were going to be before we scheduled the White House shoot. If we had, I can tell you that we wouldn’t have picked that particular day.”

  “I’ve never been involved in any terrorist activities,” Steve said. “But my father was a salesman who traveled extensively to the Middle East. Minkus found that interesting. He said he was going to see me hang.”

  “Literally,” Suzie said.

  Steve fixed her a look. “Even if he didn’t find me guilty of terrorism-and I don’t know how he could-he could kill my career.” To me, he added, “I think that’s what his ultimate goal was. To see me ruined.”

  “That’s a terrible story,” I said.

  “And that’s why we think the NSA might be looking at us now that Minkus is dead,” Suzie said. “We had a motive.”

  Steve stared at the table. “I say: Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

  “Wow.” I knew it would be a while before I could take it all in.

  “Don’t tell your boyfriend, okay?” Steve asked. “I mean, just in case Minkus was bluffing. Maybe he wasn’t looking at me at all. Maybe he was just playing mind games. He was always good at that.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Please, just keep this to yourself,” Suzie said. “For now. The news says they’re working really hard on determining the cause of death. As soon as they figure out it wasn’t something he ate”-she tapped on the DVD case-“and they see we didn’t do anything to poison his meal, we should be okay. I don’t think it would be in anyone’s best interests to bring up all this old history.”

  I licked my lips, realizing that the feeling had come back to my tongue.

  Now only my brain felt numb.

  CHAPTER 14

  ON MY WAY HOME, I CALLED BUCKY AND TOLD him I’d gotten a copy of the DVD. He and I made plans to go over it the next day and he said he’d call Cyan to include her as well. While I was on the phone, Tom beeped in, and I hung up with Bucky to take the call.

  “Hey,” I said. “Busy night, but I’m finally heading back. What time were you planning to stop by?”

  “Ah…” he said. “Looks like plans have changed.”

  “You’re not coming over?”

  “No.”

  “But you mentioned that Craig wanted me to have a look at something. What about that?”

  “Craig changed his mind.”

  “Do you want to stop by anyway?”

  He hesitated.

  “Forget I suggested it,” I said. “Never mind.”

  “I just think it’s best if we aren’t seen together too much. At least until this investigation is over.”

  “Yeah, you said that before.” What I wanted to say was that coming over to my apartment was hardly “being seen” together.

  “Well,” he said awkwardly. “I guess I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Yeah,” I said. But my heart wasn’t in it.

  When I finally made it to my apartment, I was completely worn out from the day’s craziness. Voices-more than just those of my mom and nana-and the scent of fresh bakery met me as I unlocked the front door.

  “Ollie, is that you?” Mom called.

  I tossed my jacket to the side and put my keys in the front bowl. “Sorry I’m so late.”

  “You hungry?”

  I was. After the story Steve had told, we were all so drained that Suzie had forgotten to give me my leftover steak. “What smells so good?”

  Mrs. Wentworth, Stanley, and Nana were sitting at my kitchen table, all drinking coffee. Stanley stood up. “Here, you sit down.”

  I waved him back and poked my nose into the refrigerator.

  “I made pork chops,” Mom said. “With that topping you like. Want some?”

  Having my mom here made me feel the comfort of being a little girl again. She seemed to enjoy bustling about, and as I took a bite of her homemade pork chops, I thought nothing had ever tasted so wonderful. I must have made a noise of pure pleasure, because they all stopped and looked at me.

  “Rough day?” Nana asked.

  Mouth full, I nodded.

  “The news is saying that the president won’t be able to make it to Carl Minkus’s memorial service,” Mrs. Wentworth said. “They’re having the wake tomorrow.”

  Stanley didn’t like the fact that the president wasn’t planning to attend services for a man who had died under his roof. “Not right,” he said. “Sure, I know he’s got a country to run, but would it kill him to take a few minutes out to pay his respects?”

  None of us answered him. I took another bite.

  “Your mother says you were visiting with the SizzleMasters,” Mrs. Wentworth said. “How did that go? Do they have any idea what might have gone wrong at dinner?”

  Stanley gave her a stern look. “Now you’re making it sound like you know for sure that whatever killed Minkus came out of the kitchen. For all we know, he did himself in. He was in the NSA. Maybe he took one of those suicide pills.”

  Mrs. Wentworth raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “All’s I’m saying is that we can’t go jumping to conclusions or nothing. We have to wait until somebody finds the answers. Like Ollie here.” He turned to me and smiled.

  I looked away, but found Mrs. Wentworth staring at me the same way. “I think it’s up to you now.”

  For the second time that night, I nearly spit my food out. This time, instead, I held a hand up in front of my mouth and chewed quickly. “What are you talking about?”

  My two neighbors wore twin “Are you a simpleton?” looks on their faces. Mrs. Wentworth patted my hand. “Just do what you’ve done before. Try to figure out who did it. Before long, you’ll have the whole thing solved. And you’ll make the headlines again.”

  “I appreciate your faith in me,” I began, “but I think that’s exactly what the Secret Service doesn’t want me to do.”

  Mrs. Wentworth snorted. “They’re just jealous.”

  The sudden warmth that suffused me had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. It was something much more. I was home, fed, comfortable, and surrounded by family and neighbors who cared about my well-being. And, on top of that, they were convinced I would be able to figure out what the medical examiner, Secret Service, NSA, and other professionals could not. I patted her hand in return. It was nice to feel appreciated.

  “Thanks.”

  Unfortunately, the warm and fuzzy feelings were short-lived. When my newspaper arrived the nex
t morning, I spread it out on the kitchen table, and sucked in sudden panic when I turned to the Liss Is More column. Reading the first line reminded me-with the subtlety of a gut-punch-that I’d forgotten to revisit Liss’s Web version yesterday to see what comment my mom had left. With the flurry of activity, the plethora of interruptions, and so much on my mind, I’d simply forgotten.

  “Oh my God,” I said.

  Today Liss Is More says: “Thanks, Mom!”

  Faithful readers will be interested to know that it seems this lowly column has touched a high-pressure nerve. We caught a live one yesterday. One of our “Anonymous” submitters posted the following (reprinted in its entirety from the Web):

  Dear Mr. Liss,

  Your column only exists to appeal to the lowest, most base of human interests. Why would you suggest that those working in the White House kitchen might have had anything to do with Carl Minkus’s death? Don’t you have better things to do? Olivia Paras runs that kitchen with energy, pride, and dignity. It’s your column and the garbage you and your followers spew that’s keeping her from being able to return to her job. Stop blaming her for canceling the Easter Egg Roll. It’s your fault. You, and people like you, only want to sell newspapers, rather than find the truth.

  Sincerely,

  An Angry Reader

  My, my. Angry Reader indeed. She asks (and I use the pronoun “she” with confidence) if I have nothing better to do. Well, today I want to say, “Thanks, Mom,” because after reading your letter, I did find something very interesting to do. I took a closer look at our country’s executive chef and discovered that Ms. Paras’s mother and grandmother are currently in town visiting their famous progeny. You, faithful readers, will recall that Olivia Paras has already made a name for herself (can you say “notorious”?) while in our nation’s employ. Earlier this week, I broached the idea that Ms. Paras may have gotten bored and played Russian roulette with dinner with no thought to its disastrous consequences, but I gave up that idea after White House press agents suggested I lay off. Fair enough. But yesterday’s entreaty by Ms. Paras’s mother (and can there be any doubt who wrote that?) now urges me to take a closer look.

  Does Ms. Paras care to tell us why she spent so much time meeting in secret with Suzie and Steve-the SizzleMasters-last night? After all, they, too, are under suspicion. Stay tuned, faithful readers. In coming days Liss Is More may have more to share about SizzleMaster Steve’s history with the dead agent Minkus.

  Let’s all take this time to look up the word collusion in our respective dictionaries, shall we?

  “Oh my God,” I said again. What had she done?

  “What’s wrong?” Mom asked, coming in to the kitchen, still in her nightgown.

  I expelled a hot breath and had about one second to decide my next move. “Nothing,” I said. I shut the paper.

  “You look like you’ve gotten some terrible news, honey.” Moving toward the countertop, she started to pour herself a cup of coffee.

  “Why don’t you shower first,” I suggested. “I made that a while ago and it’s probably stale. I’ll make fresh.”

  She gave the pot a curious look. “There’s plenty in there.”

  “Yeah, but it’s a little weak.” I grimaced, lifting my half-filled mug. “You and I both like it stronger. I’ll put some of the weaker stuff in the carafe for Nana.”

  Mom didn’t seem entirely convinced that I gave so much thought to our morning coffee, but she shrugged. “All right. I won’t be long. What are we doing today, anyway?”

  “I have to make a few phone calls,” I said. That was an understatement. All I wanted at this moment was for her to leave so I could start damage control. “But I have a few ideas. We’ll talk about it after your shower.”

  Finally, she left the room.

  Tom answered on the first ring. “So meddling runs in the family, eh?”

  “Oh my God,” I said, for the third time. “What am I going to do?”

  “You are going to do nothing at all,” he said. He gave a short laugh, which I thought was inappropriate, given the circumstances. “I guess it’s like they say: The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “The next time I chastise you for getting involved in situations you should stay out of, just remind me it’s in your DNA.” He laughed again. “Your poor mom. I know she was just trying to help. How is she taking today’s new twist?”

  Nana came into the room. She helped herself to a cup of coffee.

  “She hasn’t seen it yet.”

  “Are you going to show it to her?”

  Nana settled down across from me. She squinted over the top of her mug.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Tom made a noise. “Do you think that’s best?”

  I had no idea what was best. I had no idea which way was up at the moment. I said so.

  “Listen,” Tom said, using his serious voice. “This Liss character is nothing more than a pain in the ass. Don’t give him another thought, okay? You got that? People read his column for entertainment, not for news. By next week, they’ll have forgotten all of this.”

  “Not if the Egg Roll is canceled.” I was morose and felt like spreading it around. “Then nobody will ever forget. When was the last time they canceled an Egg Roll?” I asked. “I mean, except for weather, or world wars?”

  “Ollie.” Still the serious tone.

  “Liss paints me as a lunatic chef who would risk her guests’ safety for another shot in the limelight. Doesn’t he understand how much I hate making the front page?” My voice had gone up. Turning my ear toward the hallway, I relaxed when I realized the shower was still running. Nana continued to stare at me, her eyebrows tight.

  “Okay,” Tom said, more soothingly than I had any right to expect. “Let’s just take this slowly. I suggest you ignore Liss. He’s the least of your worries right now.”

  I groaned.

  “You called me for a reason,” he prompted.

  “I have a copy of the DVD from Suzie and Steve,” I said. “They gave it to me.”

  Instead of being pleased, he got angry. “You couldn’t get a copy from me, so you went out and got one on your own? Ollie, what did I ask you about staying out of this investigation?”

  “That’s why I’m telling you. They want me to go over it-heck, they want you to go over it-because they believe it will prove that no one in the kitchen could have done anything to Minkus’s food.”

  “First of all…” I sensed a lecture coming on. “We aren’t going to be able to tell anything from the recording. Give me a break. How would any of us watching know whether that was salt-or arsenic-someone is adding to a dish?”

  “Don’t you think the fact that we’re all willing to make the DVD public is proof of innocence?”

  “Hardly proof. No matter how much you, or the SizzleMasters, want to get involved, nothing you say or do will be of any help right now. This death has to be investigated step by step. All options will be kept open until we’re able to eliminate-”

  “Listen,” I said, interrupting him. “There’s a reason Suzie and Steve want you to see the DVD.”

  A heartbeat of silence, then, “A reason.”

  “I can’t tell you what it is, but I-”

  “Ollie.”

  “Trust me here, okay?”

  I heard him give an exasperated sigh. “I asked you not to get involved.”

  I said nothing.

  Tom broke the silence. “What did Suzie and Steve tell you?”

  Although I wanted to honor Steve’s request to keep the information about Mary and her history with Minkus to myself, Liss’s column today intimated that it wouldn’t be long before the whole world knew. “They told me something in confidence,” I began. “They specifically asked me not to tell you about it.”

  “And you don’t find that suspicious?”

  “I would, except I know what they’re keeping to themselves. Everyone has secrets, Tom.”
>
  Another exasperated sigh. “You just can’t stay out of things, can you?”

  “You told me to go about my business like normal. You told me it was fine to keep in touch with my friends. These are my friends,” I said. My voice had gone up again, just as I heard the shower turn off. Nana still listened.

  “These are my friends,” I said again, more quietly. “And if I have to, I will tell you the story they told me. I don’t believe they could have done anything to Carl Minkus, but I do believe there are other reasons they might come under scrutiny.”

  Sounds came through the receiver that made me believe Tom was scratching his face. “So what am I supposed to do?”

  “For one, you can appreciate that I’m keeping you updated on all this, just like you asked me to,” I said with a little snap. “I’m not getting involved, but as information comes to me I’m sharing it with you. I think that’s fair.”

  He didn’t comment.

  “I’m going to take a look at this DVD,” I said. “I’ll have Bucky and Cyan take a look at it, too. If we see anything weird, I’ll tell you immediately.”

  “Ollie,” Tom said gently, “if anyone in that kitchen had intended to kill Carl Minkus, don’t you think they would have made sure to do it off-camera?”

  Frustration worked its way into my voice. “What am I supposed to do? Just sit on my hands until that medical examiner finally gets off his duff and tells the world it wasn’t my fault? This is my career we’re talking about.”

  “I know,” he said. “And you know I can’t share information with you. What I can tell you is that we’re working around the clock to get this thing settled. The best advice I can give you right now is to find something to keep you busy. To take your mind off of the problems.”

  I blew a raspberry into the phone.

  “I understand this isn’t easy. Use this time off as a gift. You’ve got your mother and grandmother there keeping you company. I suggest you enjoy your time with them.”

  When we hung up, Nana’s mouth twisted sideways. “Who hasn’t seen what?” she asked.

  Hoping my mom was still busy in the bathroom for a few more minutes, I opened the page to Liss’s article and turned it to face Nana. I let her read a little bit before explaining, “Mom sent in a comment to his website yesterday. I don’t think she realized what a Pandora’s box she would open.”