by Nell Hampton
“Except those fruits are all out of season,” I said. “Not only would they have to get ahold of a bunch of out-of-season fruits, but they would have to grind the pits. That’s a lot of work.”
“It could be why they switched to isopropyl.” Penny tapped on her phone.
I studied the information on cyanide. “Wow, that’s nasty stuff.” I looked up poisons. “Did you know that rhubarb leaves could poison someone? It is rhubarb season. It would be much easier to grind that up and put it in a pie.”
“But not as immediate.” Penny scrolled through the text on her phone. “It’s pretty clear they wanted Wentworth to be found with his face in your pie.”
“Huh?” I studied Penny. “I know there wasn’t any poison in my pie. That means someone used my pie pan without me knowing or someone slipped it into my pie before Wentworth ate it. Do you think the intended murder victim might have been someone else?”
“I hadn’t really thought about that,” Penny said. “But you’re right. Anyone could have slipped poison into your pie. You left it on the counter for the staff.”
“Maybe it was intended for Chef Wright,” I said.
“And yesterday’s poisoning was meant for Chef Butterbottom. Maybe someone is taking out the palace chefs. Which means you could be next.”
“I certainly hope not.” I put down my tea. The flavor suddenly tasted sour to my tongue.
“I can be your taster,” Penny said with a grin. “You haven’t had any of those petit fours yet have you?” She pointed to the glass-covered platter filled with the tiny tea cakes.
“Too late,” I said. “I’ve not only tasted them, but the family had them for tea.”
“Oh,” she sounded so disappointed.
“But you can have some if you want,” I said.
“Super.” Penny jumped up and got a small plate and put three icing covered cakes on her plate. She bit into one the moment she sat back down. “Seriously, I’m here if you need a taster.”
I shook my head. “How do you stay so trim when you eat like that?”
She shrugged. “Good genes?”
“You know women around the world hate you,” I teased.
She shrugged and bit into her cake.
“So tell me about this mysterious romance you have that keeps you from going clubbing on Saturday night.”
She sighed and put her elbows on the table. “He’s a vicar.”
“What? No—you mean like a preacher?”
“Yes,” she said. “His name is Dale Ruthart and he is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“How did you two meet?”
“My mother’s best friend got married in a little church and Dale presided over the ceremony. Lucky for me, my mother insisted I dress like a lady—which I did.”
I tilted my head. “Does your vicar know you go out clubbing?”
“No.” She sipped her tea. “All he knows is that I work here, and that I work a lot.”
“So you’re lying to him.”
“Not lying,” she said. “I no longer go clubbing.”
“So you’ve known him less than a week,” I teased.
“Long enough to know he has the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen on a man. That’s saying a lot. Oh, and he works with poor children at an afterschool program. Isn’t that something?”
“It’s something.” I sipped my tea. I could tell from her expression that she truly thought this vicar might be the man for her. “Do you see yourself as a vicar’s wife?”
“Well, why not? I have experience running a large household.”
“That you do.” I stood. “Do you have a picture?”
“He won’t take a selfie with me,” she pouted. “He says it’s a bit too narcissistic for him.”
“Surely he has a picture,” I said. “What is his parish? They must have a website, right? Wouldn’t he have a professional picture?”
“Oh, gosh, you’re right,” Penny’s eyes lit up. She tapped into the search bar of her cell phone. “Here, St. Anthony. Ah, there’s my guy. Isn’t he cute?” She pushed her phone toward me. There, in full choir dress, was an earnest-looking young man with a round face, round, bright blue eyes, and blond hair pushed away from his eyes.
“Oh, he is quite good looking,” I said with a smile and handed the phone back to her. “I see what you see in him.”
“You should see him without a shirt.”
“You saw him without a shirt already?”
She blushed. “I might have peeked when he was changing out of basketball clothes. You see, he invited me to come see what he does with the kids’ afterschool program.”
“But you hate kids,” I pointed out and took her tea mug and empty plate to the sink.
“I don’t hate kids.” She raised her chin. “I happen to like the little prince and princess.”
“You hate kids,” I said. “You tell me that all the time when we go into the park to eat lunch.”
“Well, that’s unruly park-going children.” She stood. “I have never been around afterschool-program kids. I didn’t know, I might have liked them. I know for sure that I like to see Dale all sweaty after playing a game of ball.”
We walked out of the kitchen, and I turned out the lights and locked the door. “Well, that’s a start I suppose.”
“It is, isn’t it?” Penny said with a secret smile. We walked through the hallway, up the stairs and down our hall. The floors were all wood and creaked with our steps. The beige walls were very clean and the baseboards dust free. Mrs. Worth ran a very clean household. I never saw the maids who cleaned the halls, but it was clear they did. I bet you could practically eat off the walls.
I stopped outside Penny’s door. “Do you think you’ll ever have children?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I hadn’t thought about it much. The thought of going through a pregnancy like the duchess did, not once but twice. I don’t know.”
“Well, you just met your vicar. It will be a while before you need to think about it.”
“Do you think he’ll want children?” She whispered with concern.
“He’s a vicar who helps with an afterschool program,” I said. “Sounds like he wants children. Good night, Penny.” I walked off to my room feeling a bit sorry for her.
“Good night,” she said, disappearing into her rooms. I opened my door, turned on my light and sighed at the cozy peace of my little suite. Maybe it will work out for Penny and the vicar, I thought. Weirder things have happened. I put my keys in the small basket on my breakfast bar and headed to my bedroom, turning on lights as I went.
Thinking about children made my mind go to thoughts of dating again. Jasper was really handsome. He wanted to go out with me but thought I had a thing for Ian—which, if I was being honest with myself, I did.
I frowned. Why did everything have to be so difficult?
Chapter 18
“Hey, how are you?” I asked when I ran into Jasper in my kitchen garden. Even though it was my day off, I had come out to pick salad greens for my lunch. The radishes and green onions were also ready. But I had to admit, all that was just an excuse to run into Jasper.
“Good, good,” he said, hefting a bag of soil up onto his broad shoulder.
“Listen, I’m so sorry we left things in such a weird place,” I said, confronting the subject. I had been thinking about it ever since Penny had told me about her vicar. It was time to be brave and reach out.
“Hey, I started it.”
I put my hand on his left bicep. “I want you to know that I don’t consider you second choice. Only a crazy person would consider you seconds. I’m not crazy.”
“No, you’re not.” He said dumped the soil into a newly made wooden box that would become a raised bed.
“I don’t want things to be awkward between us.” I stepped back while he worked. “I happen to like your fresh veggies.”
He sent me a smoldering look and a wicked grin. “There’s more to me than my fresh veggies.”
&nb
sp; Yikes.
A blush rushed up my cheeks and I found myself taking a step back before I held my ground. I’m a grown woman. It wasn’t my fault I’ve never been seriously seduced. Was it?
I laughed and it sounded fake to my own ears. What does a woman do with such a man? Sigh, I guess. “I bet there is,” I managed to squeak out.
“So, quick drinks again sometime? Or shall we move on to dinner?”
“Quick drinks.” I raised my hand when he started to look disappointed. “You know I’m fresh out of a long-term relationship. Let me enjoy all the stages. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said. “So tomorrow?”
I laughed again. “Wednesday.”
“Cool.” He winked at me and moved toward the greenhouse door.
“I do have a quick question.”
“What?”
“Do you use garden chemicals?”
“No, the greenhouse is strictly organic. Why do you want to know?”
“Just wondering,” I said. “See you Wednesday?”
“Take care, Chef. And enjoy your day-off salad.”
“Right.” I really did blush to my roots. There was no denying I’d gone out to the garden to find him and he’d caught me. At least I learned that any chemicals that might have been used for poison weren’t his.
“Oh, that boy likes you,” Agnes said when I stepped back into the kitchen. Monday was my day off but not Agnes’s. Agnes had Saturday and Sunday off. Then she was in the kitchen Monday in case the duchess needed extra help. Like today, the duchess had an important meeting and Agnes was called upon to make lunch.
“You saw that?”
“It’s a glass wall,” Agnes pointed out. “I’m not blind.”
“Right, okay, well, I have fresh veggies for the lunch salad. Why don’t you make that while I poach the fish?”
“Now, chef, no need for you to work on your day off,” she said with a smile. “I can handle the children’s lunch. I know you just came down to search out your young man.”
I tried to hide my blush by making tea. “What? I spent the morning running errands. I thought I’d stop into the kitchen and see if you needed anything is all.”
“Right,” she laughed. “Nice to see you blush. Means you’re human.”
I let it go. I liked Agnes. She must feel the same, or she wouldn’t be so quick to tease me.
I watched as Agnes put together a simple lunch of poached white fish on quinoa, spring greens salad, and a quick trifle dessert made of berries and whipped cream. I’m sure even Chef Butterbottom couldn’t find fault with it. Not a single deep-fried fish stick in sight.
I was always amazed at how well the children ate. But then my mother told me that children only eat junk food if you teach them to eat junk food. The duchess was ensuring they grew to love fresh, simple meals. Having ensured that Agnes truly didn’t need me, I left the kitchen and headed to the park to catch some sunshine.
“Chef Cole! Carrie Ann!” I heard Chef Wright call my name in the hall and I turned.
“Chef Wright, what brings you into my part of the palace?”
“I heard about Chef Butterbottom’s poisoning and I wanted to see if you were affected as well.”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “How are you? How’s your team? Was anyone else poisoned?” I don’t know why I didn’t think about the other teams earlier. Right now, Chef Wright was making me feel a little too self-involved.
“No, only Butterbottom and his crew,” Chef Wright said. “I understand they found a toxin in the teacups they drank out of.”
“I heard that,” I said. “Scary. I don’t understand who could have done such a thing. I thought the security was quite good for the event.”
“Yes, well, there were a lot of ticketed people wandering around,” Chef Wright said. “It could have been anyone.”
“I heard a rumor that you might have been the target. Do you think that’s true?”
“Who me?” He pointed at himself and laughed. “Not hardly. I heard the same about you.”
“Not hardly,” I said with a half-smile. “It does seem that someone is trying to take us out one by one.”
“Well, it will take more than a few sips of isopropyl to take down Butterbottom. The man has an iron stomach.”
“It’s because he’s an iron chef.” I laughed at my own joke.
“Is he?” Chef Wright looked confused.
“No,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know. I just said it because it was a funny pun.”
“Right.”
“I heard that isopropyl wasn’t the poison used to kill Wentworth. So it might not even be the same poisoner. Do you think they meant to kill Wentworth or just make him sick like they did Chef Butterbottom and his crew?”
“I have no idea,” Chef Wright said. “I understand that poison is a strange thing. No one really understands dosage or even how to control it.”
I looked at him sideways. “Are you saying that the killer misjudged how much it took to kill Butterbottom?”
“I don’t think anyone knows what it would take to kill ol’ Butterbottom.” He winked at me.
“But you think they were trying to kill Butterbottom, not just make him sick?”
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “Or maybe they were trying to make my team sick and Wentworth was accidently overdosed.”
“Huh.” I thought about that. “Maybe Wentworth was an accident. It would explain why the poisoner switched to isopropyl. But why try to make you and your team ill? Why make Butterbottom sick?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He said.
“I do have another question.”
“What, dear?”
“I-”
Penny and Rachel came around the corner interrupting me. Rachel had a moment of pause when she saw Chef Wright with me.
“Carrie Ann,” Penny said with surprise. “You’re out of your kitchen.”
I laughed. “I do get out every now and then. It’s my day off. You should know that. You’re the one who got me out on the town.”
“She did?” Chef Wright asked.
I could feel Rachel tense up at his words. “Yes, she gave me my tourist night on the town last week.”
“I even dressed her up,” Penny said with pride. “She looked amazing.”
“I bet she did,” Chef Wright said.
“Excuse me, I’ve got to get back to work.” Rachel walked off. Her back was straight and her head held high.
Chef Wright seemed to shrug her off. If I didn’t know that the two of them had been having an affair, I would wonder why she snubbed us. As for Chef Wright, he didn’t seem at all moved by her discomfort. That made me wonder what kind of man he was.
“What brings you to the palace halls?” Penny asked Chef Wright. “I thought you had your hands full hiring a new waiter to replace Wentworth.”
“Ah, that’s why I’m here,” he said. “I was on my way to the administration offices to interview some new candidates.”
“This hallway isn’t exactly on the way to admin,” I pointed out. We were in the hall adjacent to my hall. Granted, it was a shortcut from the apartment to my kitchen, but the admin was in the opposite direction.
“I’ll be honest,” Chef Wright said. “I was hoping to run into you.”
“Really, why?”
“Yes, why?” Penny crossed her arms over her chest. Today she wore a smart skirt suit in a pale blue tweed. Chef Wright was dressed in a green button down and khaki pants.
They looked like a hardworking couple. Meanwhile, I looked more relaxed in my day-off cotton fit-and-flare dress. I’d dressed hoping to look nice for Jasper and not look like my usual professional chef self.
“I haven’t seen her since the competition,” Chef Wright said. “I wanted to congratulate her on winning second place.”
“You could have sent an email,” Penny pointed out.
Chef Wright shrugged. “What can I say? I prefer to say congratulations in person.”
“How
is the staff at the Orangery doing since Wentworth’s murder?” I asked to change the subject and lighten the mood. “Are they worried that there might be a killer among them?”
“I’ve had several staff members quit,” he said. “A few left after Wentworth’s demise, but more left when they heard of Butterbottom’s illness. It’s why I have to conduct interviews.”
“I’ve heard that you aren’t the only one with staffing issues over this,” Penny said. “No one wants to work in a place where people are getting poisoned. Especially if they are working for minimum wages.”
I looked at Chef Wright. “How is business at the Orangery? Has it fallen off since the murder?”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s actually picked up which is why I need to hire and train people quickly.”
“It’s picked up? I thought for sure people would stay away, worried about food poisoning.”
“Actually, the tourists seem to have a morbid fascination with death,” he said. “We do have some people who want to tour the kitchens now to see where Wentworth died and perhaps solve the mystery of his murder.”
“Who gains from the pickup in traffic?” I asked.
“The Orangery and other tourist sites here at the palace are run by a charity,” Penny said. “The nonprofit would see gains from more foot traffic.”
I frowned. “So no one would stage a poisoning to gain more profits.”
“No,” Penny said.
Chef Wright eyed me. “Are you still trying to solve this crime?”
“I’m still considered a viable suspect,” I said with a small shrug. “So, yes, I would like to figure out who is doing this and why. That way I can get back to concentrating on my work.”
“I hadn’t considered you as a suspect,” Chef Wright said.
“Tell Detective Chief Inspector Garrote that,” I said. “When Butterbottom and his crew got ill, I was the first one he came to question.”
“What reason would you have to hurt Wentworth or Butterbottom for that matter?”
“Remember that Wentworth was peering in my window taking photos. Looking for something to sell the tabloids, I assume,” I said. “And it was my pie he ate.”
“Pish, nothing of value came from the pictures that boy took,” Chef Wright said.