Kale to the Queen

by Nell Hampton

  “Someone did,” I said. “Did Frank leave you any insurance?”

  “He had a substantial amount of coverage. We both got covered for a million pounds just before I got sick. We wanted to be sure that should anything happen to either of us, the boys would be okay.”

  “How are the boys doing?”

  “They seem to be absorbing it all pretty well.”

  “Has anyone threatened them?”

  “What? No, why would they?”

  “No reason,” I said, suddenly unsure about going down this avenue with a sick woman. “I just thought that whoever killed Frank is still out there and may want to harm you or your children.”

  “I never thought of that,” she said as distress crossed her face. “Do you think they would? I mean, should I have someone watching the boys’ every move?”

  “I’m sure they’re fine when they are home with you.” I tried to pull back my concerns. “But I would ask you and them to be a bit careful out on the street. There is a killer running loose, and I don’t think it is Mr. Haregrove.”

  “I agree,” she said and looked suddenly tired. “I told you from the beginning that Michael wouldn’t do anything to hurt Frank. They might have had their differences, but they loved each other almost more than Michael loves me.”

  “Please take extra care,” I said. I leaned forward and put my hand on her hand. “I’ve tired you out, and that wasn’t my intention. I’ll go now.” I stood. “Thank you for the tea. I can see myself out. Just please take extra care of yourself and the boys. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I left her home feeling worried. What if what she said was true? What if it was Michael who owed the money and not Frank? That changed things a bit. It could be that Frank called the bookie out and was killed for it.

  There was only one way to know for sure. I had to make a visit to Michael Haregrove’s home.

  Chapter 23

  “Chef Cole, come in,” Michael said when he opened the door and saw me. “How are things in the kitchen?”

  “Not so good,” I said and stepped into his townhouse. I realized that the floorplan was an exact match for Meriam’s home: a small foyer with stairs leading to the rooms above and a hallway that lead to a parlor, a dining area, and a kitchen at the back.

  The parlor walls were painted in a neutral blue that was very pale, almost white. It really emphasized the books and leather chairs. Unlike Meriam’s home, which was filled with the chaos of children—toys and game equipment scattered about—Michael’s home was serene with a dark, masculine look. This time, I realized there was a huge television on the wall above the fireplace.

  “What’s going on?” Michael asked as he waved me toward one of the oversized chairs. I sat down into a comfortable cloud of leather.

  “I didn’t come to tell you about my kitchen troubles, I came to ask how you were doing.”

  “I’ve managed to stay alive,” he said. He shot to his feet. “Oh, can I get you some tea or a beer or something?”

  “No, I’m good,” I said. “I just came from seeing Meriam.”

  Michael sat down and his shoulders slumped. “I’m not allowed to see her,” he said, “or the boys, until this thing resolves itself.”

  “What does your lawyer say?”

  “He says the case they have is pretty circumstantial. You know I didn’t kill Frank.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “I know. But I do have a question for you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Who is the gambling addict? You or Frank Deems?”

  Michael paused for a moment and then ran his hands through his hair and looked at me. “How did you know?”

  “I overheard the two guys accost you in the alley the night of the wake. I didn’t realize that at least one of them worked in the palace.”

  “Neville,” he muttered. “How’d you find him?”

  “By accident. You see, with the repairs to the greenhouse, the family’s kitchen has been moved to the test kitchen. I was in the storage room stowing away our serving carts when I heard Neville and another man talking about how death does not get you out of your obligations.”

  “Frank had an addiction,” Michael said and sat back. “He tried to go clean. But the cancer was a stressor, and I discovered about a month ago that he was deep in debt to the local bookie.”

  “Neville?”

  “No, Neville’s just the muscle,” Michael said. “It’s a side gig for him. He has five kids and being a butcher in the palace doesn’t always make ends meet.”

  “So he threatens people as a part-time job?”

  “He’s a good negotiator,” Michael said. “He looks big and scary, so nine times out of ten, he gets people to cough up the money without so much as twisting their arm.”

  “Meriam tells me that you’re the gambler, not Frank.”

  He scowled. “That is what Frank told her. I went along with it because she’s so sick. I didn’t have the heart to tell her differently, and now Frank is gone and she’s sick and alone with her boys.”

  “Could the bookie have killed Frank?” I had to ask. “I mean, it seems like the bookie could have been threatening to expose Frank if he didn’t pay. They could have fought, and that’s how Frank ended up dead.”

  “It’s a good theory,” Michael said with a sigh. “But the bookie is strictly a money man. He never gets his hands dirty. He sends out guys like Neville to do the dirty work.”

  “Neville has access to the kitchen, and he’s a butcher. He could very well be the killer.”

  “Neville has an alibi for that night. His youngest had the croup, and he and his wife were up all night walking the floor with the kid. Besides, everyone knows that Neville might be an enforcer, but he’d never kill a guy. The bookie wants his money. Dead men don’t pay out.”

  “How much did Frank owe?”

  “Nearly a quarter of a million,” Michael said. “I gave them all my savings, but it was only about five percent of the debt.”

  “I overheard Neville talking to someone about the fact that Frank had enough insurance to cover the debt and that he had to squeeze it out of his widow.”

  “That’s not good,” Michael said. He leaned his elbows on his jean-clad knees and covered his face. “It means the boys and Meriam are in danger.”

  “That’s why I went to visit her today,” I said. “To warn her, but then I found out that she truly believes you are the one with the debt. I didn’t have enough information to know what the truth was. Now I do.”

  “They need protection.” He stood and paced. “I can’t get within a hundred meters of her or the boys until the trial happens.” He looked at me, his expression deadly serious. “Things could go very badly very quickly, especially because Meriam doesn’t know the truth.”

  “What can I do?”

  “I don’t know. I need to think.”

  “What about the police? Can we go to them?”

  “With what? Hearsay that the bookie wants his men to rough up Meriam? I don’t think they’ll do anything about it.”

  “But the police need to know that the real killer is out there and that Meriam and the boys are in danger.”

  “You can go to the inspector all you want,” Michael said. “He won’t pursue it until something happens. They believe they got their man, and that is that.”

  “What about Ian Gordon?” I asked.

  “What about him?”

  “He is head of security at the palace. He must know the rumors about Neville being an enforcer. Maybe he can talk to the man. I know Neville didn’t want to lean on the family in the first place.”

  “I don’t know if he’ll go for that. You see, his number-one priority is the palace and the family. Our little worker problems are not really his thing.”

  “Still, I need to talk with him myself.” I frowned. “Is it okay if I mention my concerns for Meriam and the boys? He might put a bug in the inspector’s ear about it.”

  “I can’t prevent you from
talking to him.”

  Standing, I reached out to him and gave him an awkward hug. “You need to quit protecting Meriam from the truth,” I said. “Losing your job and going to jail for life is not worth it. She will find out, sooner or later.”

  “It sounds like sooner,” he said and sighed. “I’ll talk to my lawyer.”

  “Do that.” I sighed. “I hired new staff, but one quit already because we are basically working in a closet until the greenhouse is repaired. That means I still have a slot open for you if you want to come back. Proving your innocence opens you back up to work at the palace. Ian promised me that.”

  “You talked to Gordon on my behalf?”

  “I’m sorry if I crossed a boundary, but yes. I told him I suspected you were protecting someone. He told me that even if the charges were dropped, the chances of you working in the palace again were next to none. He said he couldn’t have a suspicious person in his palace.”

  “True.”

  “But I argued that he couldn’t condemn an innocent man,” I said. “So he promised that should you be proven innocent, he would consider your application for a position again.”

  “That was very nice of you,” he said. “But when I get out of this pickle, I’m going to concentrate on helping Meriam and the boys.”

  “That’s it then? I can’t persuade you any further?”

  “No,” he said with a flash of a wry smile. “This has made my priorities perfectly clear. Meriam and the boys must come first. I’ll need to get a position that takes their well-being into account.”

  I squeezed his shoulder. “Best of luck,” I said. “I’m glad you are going to tell the truth. I promise to keep pushing until we find Mr. Deems’s true killer.”

  “Just don’t lose your job in the process,” Michael said. “You’re a good chef, Carrie Ann. And an even better friend.”

  Chapter 24

  I always thought it would be fun to say I stormed the castle. But in truth, my anger had died down to a quiet simmer by the time I got to Ian’s office. I was smart enough to call ahead and make an appointment. I needed time with the man to express all that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

  Mostly, I planned on telling him to butt out of my private life. Not that it mattered, since that was in ruins. But in case I ever got one back, I didn’t need him meddling in it.

  “Hello?” I knocked on his open door.

  “Chef Cole, right on time I see.” Ian stood for a moment. “Come in. What can I do for you?”

  I closed the door behind me and didn’t sit down in one of the chairs. “I want to know by what authority you let John into my rooms Sunday night.”

  “The man wanted to surprise you,” Ian said, drawing his eyebrows together in confusion. “I heard you on the phone asking him to come. I saw your disappointment when he said no. So when he called and asked me to surprise you . . .” He shrugged. “You looked like you needed the visit.”

  “You overstepped. I would have preferred to have known. I could have met him at the airport.” My tone was sharp and my anger rose at the memory.

  “He said he was going to propose and asked me to help surprise you,” Ian sat down. “How could I refuse that?” He waved again to the chairs. “Please sit.”

  I struggled to keep my righteous anger. I mean, how could I be mad at a man who looked like a Greek god and said he was only looking out for my best interests? “I need to stand right now,” I said. “I need you to understand that I do not give my permission for you to allow any ‘surprise’ visitors again. Am I clear?”

  “Perfectly.”

  “Good.” I glared at him for a moment.

  “Was there something else, Chef Cole?” This time he raised one eyebrow.

  “Yes,” I said and finally took the seat he’d been offering me. How do you go from scolding someone to asking them for a favor? “I don’t know how to begin.”

  “You already made your case for privacy,” he said. “I’m not certain what else you have on your mind.” He glanced at his watch. “But I do have another five minutes scheduled for you.”

  I took his hint and got straight to the point. “Fine. I know Neville is a bookie’s enforcer.”

  “I see.”

  “‘I see’? Is that all you have to say? The man may know who really killed Mr. Deems.”

  “He doesn’t,” Ian said. “I’ve already discussed the issue with him.”

  “So let me get this straight. You will let Neville—a hired enforcer—work in the palace, but not Mr. Haregrove? Really?”

  Ian crossed his arms. “Neville passed the background checks. His role as an enforcer is mere rumor until he is proven to have done something illegal. As far as I and anyone I’ve talked to knows, the man has never done more than talk. The talk might be intimidating, but it’s all just talk. Mr. Haregrove, on the other hand, has been arrested for suspicion of murder. There is a big difference.”

  “Mr. Haregrove didn’t do it.”

  “Neither did Neville. Now, if you are done wasting my time . . .”

  “So you agree that Mr. Haregrove didn’t kill Mr. Deems.” I jumped on his words.

  He scowled at me. “Let’s say I’m not as convinced as the police are that he did it. But I have my own job to do, as do you.”

  “But I told you they were talking about strong-arming Mrs. Deems by threatening her children. Is there anything you can do to protect them?”

  “It’s not my job,” he said carefully. “You should take your concerns to the inspector.”

  “I called him, but he didn’t answer. I left a message, but I’m not sure he would be willing to help. I thought perhaps you could talk to Neville and get him to back off.”

  “What do you want me to say to the man? ‘I heard a rumor that you were threatening children and I’d advise against it’?”

  “Yes,” I said and then frowned. “No, I don’t think that would do anything at all. Maybe you could tell him that if anything happens to Mrs. Deems or her children, you would see he loses his job here.”

  “I can’t fire people without evidence of misconduct,” he said evenly. “Surely you understand that.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip. “So there’s nothing you will do about this.”

  “There is nothing to do because nothing has happened. Is that understood?”

  “Not really.”

  “I suggest you stick to cooking and let the professionals do their job.”

  “I know you know Mr. Haregrove didn’t do it. Aren’t you looking for the real killer?”

  “My job is to ensure the safety of all who live and work at the palace. I won’t be satisfied until someone is proven guilty.” He stood. “Now, Chef Cole, I suggest for the last time, I hope, that you stay out of things that don’t concern you.”

  I stood as well. “I will if you will,” I said and sent him a narrow-eyed look.

  “Oh yes, trust me, I won’t be meddling in your private affairs ever again.”

  “Thank you,” I said sarcastically.

  “I’ve got to go to a meeting,” he said as he escorted me out of his office. “I’d suggest you go enjoy the rest of your day off.”

  I stood in the hallway and watched him walk away. How could I enjoy anything about this day? My sort-of-boyfriend had asked me to marry him and quit my job, both of which I’d refused to do. Then I’d learned that Mr. Deems was a gambling addict and Michael was taking the blame. There was nothing I could do. I mean, John wouldn’t listen and so we were over. My heart squeezed at the thought. Michael wouldn’t listen and he might go to jail for life. And Ian didn’t seem to truly understand how important all this was.

  No one seemed to care that I was right about Michael’s innocence and my job. Or that the world was falling apart around me. Emotions swamped me and tears stung my eyes. I dashed them away.

  What if they were all right? What if everything I had done was just a huge mistake?

  I was headed to my room to have a good cry when I ran into M
rs. Perkins just outside the hallway to my rooms.

  “Chef Cole,” she said, her tone stern. “I need a word with you.”

  “Right now isn’t the best time,” I said. I knew my eyes were red and my nose was starting to run from holding back tears of frustration, anger, and sadness. I sniffed.

  “It doesn’t matter because this is most important,” Mrs. Perkins said. “I understand you went to visit Meriam again today.”

  “I did,” I said.

  “Stop.”

  “Stop what?” I asked, confused.

  “I must insist that you stop visiting my daughter. You upset her, and she has enough to deal with.”

  “I did not upset her,” I said. “She was tired when I left, but that was all.”

  “She called me and told me that you told her that her late husband had a gambling problem.” Mrs. Perkins’s lips were a firm line, and anger flashed from her eyes. “She wants to go over all the finances with me tonight. She’s worried.”

  “She should be worried. Mr. Deems was a gambling addict,” I said. “Mr. Haregrove is taking the fall for him.”

  “It’s not your place to meddle,” Mrs. Perkins said. “I won’t have it. I won’t have you upsetting my daughter. Not now. Not when she is fighting so many things.”

  “She has to know,” I said. “I overheard men saying that they were going to get the money one way or the other. They know she has an insurance payment coming. I heard them say they were going to threaten her and the boys.”

  Mrs. Perkins gasped. “You didn’t tell her that, did you?”

  “No,” I said. “I couldn’t. Not after she told me that Frank had told her it was Michael with the problem, not him. In case she was right, I had to be absolutely certain before I said anything further.”

  “Even then, it’s not your place to say anything.” Mrs. Perkins’s eyes flashed.

  “I went to see Michael,” I said. “He’s out on bond, you know.”

  “Mr. Haregrove has nothing to do with any of this.”

  “Oh, he does,” I said. “He’s trying to protect Meriam from knowing about Frank’s problem, but he can’t. The bookie knows Meriam is getting an insurance settlement. He’s going to try to squeeze the money out of her. You have to tell her. Michael tried to pay them off, but he didn’t have enough.”