Lord of the Pies

by Nell Hampton

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Good,” I said. “You should tell Penny.”

  “I will.” Rachel winced. “I’ve been a bit of a jerk lately. Can’t help it. Seems so weird that Don is dead. He might have been a skank, but you kind of know that going in.”

  “So why’d you do it?”

  She shrugged. “Evie was talking about how he was going to leave his wife for her. I wanted to prove to Evie that the man wouldn’t leave his wife for anyone. That if he two-times his wife, he’d two-time anyone. But Evie didn’t believe it. So I started flirting with him. Then one thing led to another. The guy was really good at making you feel like you were the only girl in the entire world, you know?”

  “I guess not,” I said. “I’ve never been in that situation.”

  “You’re lucky,” Rachel said.

  “There is a rumor that Chef Wright had moved on to a new girl. Do you have any idea who that was?”

  Rachel laughed. “No, and I don’t want to know. Maybe the new girl is the one who killed him?”

  “Why?”

  “Because the man could make you crazy.”

  I spotted Evie going into the lecture hall. “I have to go to class. Listen, call me before you leave Penny on her own next time. Okay?”

  “Oh, I doubt there will be a next time,” Rachel said with one raised eyebrow.

  “Fine, whatever.” I made my way into class and took a seat beside Evie.

  “Was that Rachel you were talking to?” Evie asked. Her eyebrows were drawn down and her mouth a thin line.

  “Yes.”

  “What did she want?”

  “Actually, I flagged her down,” I said. “I wanted to find out why she left Penny drunk and alone.”

  “She did what?” Evie turned toward me. “That witch. Wait, what was Penny doing going out with Rachel?”

  Oh boy.

  “She knows that Rachel and I are on the outs. Serves Penny right to get left alone. I warned her Rachel was a back stabber.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Funny, Rachel just told me that she started to see Chef Wright to prove to you that the man was still on the prowl.”

  “A likely story,” Evie said. “Rachel can’t stand it when I have even the tiniest bit of good luck. She seduced my Don. Lucky for her, he put an end to her schemes and plans.”

  “He did?” That was not the story I got from Rachel and Penny.

  “He did, and he told me so himself. She lured him into a closet in the kitchen. Then Rachel wrapped herself around my Don, but he was true to me. He pushed her off and told her to stay away from him.”

  “Huh,” I said.

  “Like I said,” Evie went on. “It wouldn’t surprise me if Rachel killed him. He humiliated her in front of half the kitchen staff.”

  “Like who?” I asked.

  “Talk to Chef Theilman or that Sandy chick. Don told me that they saw him tell Rachel to leave him alone. In fact, he told me he put in a complaint to security to keep Rachel out of his kitchen.”

  “Huh,” I said again. “No one mentioned that to me before.”

  “Well, I know why Rachel wouldn’t mention it. How humiliating. Serves her right if you ask me.”

  Class started and I was left to wonder if Rachel had lied to me or if Evie lied. Or maybe Chef Wright had deluded them both.

  Chapter 27

  “I haven’t seen you in a while,” Jasper said. He stepped into my kitchen from the greenhouse. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, fine,” I said. It was five-thirty in the morning. I was up early making yeast dough for breakfast rolls and the supper meal. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

  “Why would you think that?” He leaned against the closed door to the greenhouse. Jasper looked gorgeous in the morning. He wore blue jeans and a dark brown T-shirt that outlined his well-muscled chest. As always, his feet were encased in rugged work boots. His hair was a bit shaggy, but his face was chiseled and clean-shaven. Why hadn’t we gone on a third date yet?

  “The last time I saw you we made a date to get some quick drinks. But then I had to cancel and after that you disappeared.”

  “Oh, come now, it’s hard for a man my size to disappear.”

  “I know.” I washed my hands then put on the kettle. “That can only mean one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re avoiding me.”

  “Why would I avoid a beautiful woman?” He asked.

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you come on in, sit down, and have some tea?” I asked. “You can spin me a tale of where you’ve been.”

  He laughed a hearty laugh and came in, taking a seat at the kitchen table. He made the chair look small. I didn’t think men had so many muscles in real life.

  “How do you like your tea?” I asked as I filled the teapot with hot water to steep. I paused and looked at him. “I don’t even know how you like your tea.”

  “Let’s remedy that,” he said. “I like it hot and sweet.”

  “No milk?”

  “No milk.” His blue gaze was bright and filled with life. My heart flip-flopped in my chest.

  “Care for breakfast?”

  “No, thanks, I ate an hour ago.”

  I winced. “You ate at four-thirty? When do you get up in the morning? Three-thirty?”

  “Four usually,” he said as I placed a mug in front of him along with a sugar bowl filled with cubes. “I like to get a head start on things.”

  I poured his tea, then I poured my own and sat down across the table from him. “That means you’re a morning person.”

  “Yes, aren’t you? I see you here at five-thirty every morning.”

  “You do? Wait, are you stalking me?” I teased.

  “I know your routine.” He grinned. “I like to think of it as paying attention—not stalking.” He stirred sugar into his mug.

  “I must be boringly predictable.” I sipped my own tea. It was Earl Grey, and I preferred it hot and plain.

  “There’s nothing boring about you, darling.” He winked at me.

  I felt the heat of a blush rush over my cheeks. “If you know my schedule, why have you been missing? I thought we were supposed to get drinks.”

  He shrugged. “There was a problem with blight in the roses and I’m working with the master gardener of the grounds to put in some new trees.”

  “I thought you’re supposed to plant trees in the fall.”

  “Depends on the tree.” He sipped his drink. “And the financing, of course.”

  “Of course.” I leaned my elbows on the table. “So you’ve been too busy to swing by.”

  He studied me a moment. “I’m here now. Do you want to go out tonight?”

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “What?”

  “A wife? A mistress or lover tucked away somewhere?”

  “Why would you ask that?”

  “I’ve learned a lot about sexy men in the last few days.”

  “What? Wait, are you saying I’m sexy?” His grin widened.

  “You’re evading the question.”

  “No, I don’t have a wife, a girlfriend, or a lover at the moment,” he said, lifting one eyebrow. “I’m hoping that will change soon.”

  I felt my hands tremble and put my cup down. “A few quick drinks do not a date make,” I said.

  “Good,” he said. “Then let’s go out to dinner, maybe some dancing.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously,” he said. “And to make it a proper—Carrie Ann will you go out with me on Saturday night?”

  “I work until nine.”

  “Perfect.” He stood. “I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty. Wear something lovely.”

  “Like what?” I asked as he headed toward the door.

  “Whatever makes you feel lovely,” he said. “Just leave the granny panties in your drawer.” With that he walked into the greenhouse garden.

  “How do you know I have anyt
hing other than granny panties?” I called after him.

  Agnes bustled in. “What’s that chef?”

  “Nothing,” I said, blushing.

  “Was that Jasper?” She pointed with her chin toward the garden as she took off her black jacket and hung it on the hooks by the kitchen door.

  “Yes. I have a date tomorrow night.”

  “Good for you!” She tied her apron around her waist. “It’s about time.”

  *

  “The Orangery staff is having a memorial for Chef Wright,” I said to Agnes. It was after lunch and before tea. “I’m going. Do you want to come along?”

  “I didn’t know the man,” Agnes said. “But I have friends who work in the Orangery. So yes, give me a minute to spruce up.”

  “Sure.” I looked in the mirror by the door to ensure my face was flour-free. I’d been making piecrusts, and flour had a tendency to stick to my skin. I fluffed my hair and straightened my white shirt.

  “Where’s the memorial being held?” Agnes asked as she slipped on a gray sweater.

  “In the garden,” I said. “I heard they set up chairs and a place for a preacher to come and run the ceremony. Mostly I think it’s a way for everyone to express their loss.”

  “Good for the palace to think of that.”

  “Do you think the duke and duchess will come?” I asked.

  “I doubt it,” Agnes said as we left the palace and walked across the parking lot toward the garden area. “They know if they show up the photogs will follow, and it will be quite the mess.”

  “Oh, right.” I noticed several small groups of people heading across the parking area to the garden. In a small semiprivate garden was a fountain. In front of the fountain were rows of folding chairs, an easel with a picture of Chef Wright on it, and lush pots of flowers beside the picture.

  A preacher was talking to a woman in a slim black suit. She wore a wide-brimmed black hat and held the hand of a small child also in black. Beside her stood two more children dressed in black. They all appeared to be between the ages of four and ten.

  My heart hurt for them. This must be Mrs. Wright and her children. How terrible to lose your father at such a young age. I wondered if the killer realized that they were leaving a widow and small children.

  We took our seats near the back and watched the Orangery kitchen staff enter. Mrs. Wright and her children took their seats on the front right. Sandy and two men took their seats near the front on the left.

  “Who are the guys?” I asked Agnes.

  “That’s Chef Theilman in the middle and Chef Rischek on the end. I noted that all three were also dressed in black. A departure from the white chef’s coats they normally wore.

  The seats were filing up when I noticed Evie. She was dressed in all black. Her slinky midi-length dress showed off a thin frame and slight baby bump. She wore a black hat with a veil over her face. Her lips were drenched in crimson. She walked with her head up to the front of the chairs and sat down boldly in the same row as Mrs. Wright.

  There was an audible gasp from the small gathering. Mrs. Wright stiffened and pulled her children toward her.

  “That girl has some nerve,” Agnes whispered.

  The preacher went over and had a whispered conversation with Evie, but it was clear that she wasn’t about to budge.

  “Oh, boy,” I said. Everyone at the gathering was tense waiting for a fight to break out.

  The preacher nervously adjusted his collar and started the service.

  I looked around to see who else was here. I recognized the waitstaff from the Orangery. There was also staff from Butterbottom’s kitchen. I was surprised to see that Butterbottom himself didn’t come. Was he in some kind of feud with Chef Wright? Could that have been why he and his staff was poisoned? Or was it all accidental, as Ian thought?

  “Do you know where Butterbottom is?” I whispered to Agnes as the preacher droned on about friends and family and the nature of death.

  “The two didn’t get on,” Agnes whispered back.

  “I’m not the only one Butterbottom doesn’t like?”

  “Hardly,” Agnes said. “Those two had a feud for the last ten years.”

  “Maybe it was Chef Wright who poisoned Butterbottom,” I said.

  “Shh,” a woman in front of us said.

  I pressed my lips together. Sandy stood at the front of the gathering and talked about Chef Wright. I glanced around to see if Rachel had come. I caught sight of her to the far right. She sat in the last row as if ready to escape but still drawn to come.

  There were a couple of other women there who were not associated with the Orangery or the other kitchens. I noticed they were all crying. Would it be safe to assume they had all been Chef Wright’s mistresses at some point?

  The man in front of me moved to the left and revealed another person I knew—Beth Branch. Beth didn’t work with Chef Wright. Leaning in, I noticed her raise a tissue to her eyes. Were we right? Had Beth been one of Chef Wright’s mistresses?

  What was wrong with all these girls that they could have an affair with a man they knew would move on to another?

  Chef Theilman spoke next and then Vladimir. Each man gave thoughtful and charming examples of why they enjoyed working with Chef Wright.

  The preacher then asked that anyone who wanted to say something about Chef Wright to come up. Evie stood and walked to the front. You could have heard a pin drop as the entire crowd held its breath.

  She turned dramatically to the crowd and stopped to dab at her wet eyes. “Chef Wright—Don—and I had a special and profound relationship.” She patted her tummy.

  Mrs. Wright’s back got stiffer. She gathered her children around her as if to protect them from Evie. I knew I wasn’t the only one who thought Evie didn’t have any right to speak—not in front of his family.

  “I first met Don last year. He catered a small party for Princess Anne’s staff. I found him to be charming, witty, and caring. We fell in love over the next few months.” Her voice broke and tears ran down her cheeks. She addressed Mrs. Wright. “I—we—have lost a good man, a thoughtful lover, a wonderful father.”

  Mrs. Wright stood, grabbed her children’s hands, and walked down the aisle to leave.

  “As we all know, Don was in a terrible marriage. Trapped because he felt it was his duty to take care of his children. But our happy love affair produced a new child,” Evie went on. “My child. And Don swore he would leave his wife for me. None of this is new, not to you or to Mrs. Wright.” Evie pointed at the woman who pulled her children out of hearing range. “I know there are others here who loved Don. He was that kind of guy—big hearted. He promised me that his days of taking lovers were over. He told me I was the love of his life.”

  She broke down into sobs. “We were going to be a family.”

  The preacher put his arm around Evie and drew her back to her seat in the now empty first row. He didn’t ask for any more memories. Instead he hastily went on with the program.

  We all sat stunned for a moment. It must have taken Evie a lot of nerve to get up like that. After bundling her children into a car, Mrs. Wright walked back up the aisle with her chin in the air. She sat down, and the preacher finished the service.

  There was a sense of us all on the edges of our seats to see what happened next. Mrs. Wright got up after the closing ceremony. She went to the podium.

  “Thank you all for coming today and honoring my husband.” It was all she said before she walked back down the aisle and got into her car.

  “Wow,” Agnes said. “What a classy lady.”

  Evie moved down the aisle, dabbing at her eyes with a white handkerchief like she was in a bad drama. She stood at the end, waiting for people to hug her and give their condolences. Only a handful of people went to her. The majority escaped out the sides of the garden, carefully avoiding a scene.

  Agnes and I skirted around the edge, careful to keep from making eye contact with Evie. I didn’t want to get dragged into any palace po
litics. It was clear that most people felt like I did: embarrassed for Evie.

  I realized that Mrs. Wright handled the situation with grace I wasn’t sure I would have had. It was clear to me that she was a woman doing her best to shield her children from the transgressions of their father. My heart went out to her. In sticky situations like the one Evie presented, it was easy for adults to forget about the children. Mrs. Wright just proved she didn’t forget about hers.

  Chapter 28

  “I heard Mrs. Wright was icy cold at the memorial,” Penny said. It was after tea and before dinner. Penny had come into my kitchen to have tea and biscuits. She grabbed one of the macaroons I had made for tea and took a bite. “Yum. Okay, spill. Was it nuts?”

  “It was the most cringe-worthy moment of my life.” I poured tea into my mug. “Evie has some nerve. She acted as if we were there to support her in her loss. Meanwhile, Mrs. Wright had her children there.”

  “Wow, I wish I could have been there.”

  “No, you don’t,” Agnes said as she finished the dishes. “It was embarrassing for both women. No one should do that to children, ever.”

  “Evie will be lucky Mrs. Wright doesn’t sue her.”

  “You can’t sue for embarrassment,” I pointed out.

  “But you can sue for harassment,” Penny pointed out. “I would say that Evie crossed a line.”

  “I heard Evie is barred from the family funeral,” Agnes said.

  “There’s to be a funeral?” I asked. “I thought the memorial was all there was.”

  “Oh, no,” Agnes said. “I heard that they still have to release the body. When they do that, Mrs. Wright is having a family-only funeral.”

  “Do you think that Evie will try to come?” Penny asked.

  “Chef Wright’s family members will see that she doesn’t,” Agnes said. “Some of the kitchen staff have said they would be at the cemetery as well to ensure there isn’t a repeat of the memorial service. They want to honor Chef Wright’s children.”

  “I do feel sorry for his kids,” I said. “They are too young to be dragged into whatever it is that Evie is doing.”

  “So Evie just acted as if she was the weeping widow?” Penny asked.