by Nell Hampton
I remained skeptical. “She doesn’t have any motive to kill Wentworth or poison Butterbottom.”
“We may have two killers.”
“The chefs have iron-clad alibies. That leaves Lord Heavington. But he has an alibi.”
“Unless he hired a hit man.” I rubbed my head. We seemed to be going round and round.
“Why would a hitman kill someone with poison? I mean, I suppose they could have made him bite a cyanide capsule, but those don’t exist anymore, and why would they put poison in the pie?”
“I think we’ll never solve this thing. What we have is one murder by poison, one attempted poisoning, and one murder by stabbing, which is not the same. If we had two killers, who would they be? We’ve cleared everyone.”
“Don’t they have video footage from inside the kitchen?” Penny asked.
“No,” I said. “They didn’t think they needed it. Everyone with access to the kitchen has to use their palace ID. The electronic ID log only shows Wentworth going into the kitchen by himself that night.”
“He had to let someone in,” Penny said. “So it was someone he knew and trusted.”
“Someone who had regular access to the kitchen so that they could put poison in the meringue and pass it off as mine.”
“Maybe it was someone who had access to your kitchen and the Orangery kitchen,” Penny suggested.
“No,” I said with a frown. “That would only be me. Agnes had the day off.”
“Right,” Penny stood and stretched. “Come on then, let’s off to bed. Tomorrow is your big date and you want to get some sleep so that you look your best.”
Penny was right. I did want to look my best. After our last date, I wanted to put my best foot forward.
*
“I heard the chefs had a talk with you,” Agnes said as we made breakfast the next morning.
“Wow, information gets around fast,” I said as I made fruit salad. Today’s breakfast was eggs, beans, muffins, and fruit salad.
Agnes laughed. “It’s a small community. How do you think they knew you suspected them of the murders?”
“I didn’t think I told anyone but Ian.”
“And Penny and I were here. People talk, dear.”
“Then someone should know who killed Wentworth and who killed Chef Wright. Chef Wright was murdered in a freezer while people worked all around him, for goodness sakes. Someone saw something.”
“People tend to live in their own little bubble,” Agnes advised. “We all have our own drama.”
That got my attention. “What drama do you have?” I realized I didn’t know that much about Agnes. “Is your granddaughter okay?”
“Yes, my granddaughter is doing fine, thank you for thinking of her. But my son has been diagnosed with bone cancer.”
“What? No!” I stopped what I was doing and went to hug her. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need time off? Are you okay?”
“I’ve put in my notice,” Agnes said. “Emailed it to the office this morning.” She hugged me back. “I thought you should hear it from me. I enjoyed working with you these last few weeks, but my children and grandchildren come first, you see.”
“No, I fully understand. When did this happen? How long have you known?”
“He hasn’t been feeling well for the last six months. The doctors were stumped. They kept doing all kinds of tests. Finally, last night they called my son and his wife in to discuss the results.”
I swallowed hard. “What is the plan of care? Can they cure him?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “They said it would be a battle. I’m going to move in with them and watch the kids. That way they can make appointments and emergency doctor’s visits and all the things that go with the diagnoses.”
I grabbed a tissue from the box near the sink and handed it to her. “Please sit down. Let me get you some tea.”
“But the breakfast—”
“Is done. I’ll run it up to the family.” I poured tea into her cup. “Please sit here and take a moment. I’ll be right back down and we can talk about this.”
“Thank you, Chef,” Agnes said. “I didn’t realize how heavily it was weighing on me.”
I grabbed the tissue box and placed it beside her. “Please, stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”
I loaded up the warming dishes and the food onto a mobile tray and took it up to the family’s dining room. It was hard not to berate myself the entire time. Agnes was right. I had been caught up in my own little world. I didn’t even know her son was sick. I barely knew she had children. It was an assumption on my part since she had asked for an early evening to go see her granddaughter’s class program.
Kicking myself for not paying closer attention to my coworker, I realized that Agnes was right. It was easy to overlook someone you worked with side by side every day.
That opened a whole world of possibilities when it came to the killer. After all, Wentworth and Chef Wright worked with the same people.
I set up breakfast and went back to the kitchen. Agnes sipped her tea. Her eyes were puffy and her face thoughtful. “I’m sorry, chef,” she said when I entered the kitchen. “I shouldn’t bring my private life into the kitchen.”
“Why ever not?” I asked. “My goodness, I spend more time with you than anyone. I should know about your life.”
“Is that so that you don’t feel guilty?” she asked with knowing eyes. “It’s all right. You don’t have to know about me.”
“Yes, I do.” I laid my hand on hers. “I need to apologize for being so myopic. Is your son your only child?”
“I have a daughter as well. She is in York working as a marketing manager for some internet company. She’s going to get married next year.” Her eyes sparkled with tears. “My son is here in London. He is going to try to work through all the treatments. His wife also works for a financial corporation. She has built up holiday time, but they really need an extra hand. The doctors told them there would be times when things might not go as planned through the treatment. So they asked me to help them out.”
“Of course, I’m glad that you are able to do that. How are you today?”
“I’m shaken, I suppose. I don’t know what will happen. I know that I will lose my income because I need to stop working and be there for the children, but that isn’t important. What is important is getting my son well.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
She smiled wistfully. “Will you be a good reference when I return to work?”
“Of course, of course,” I said, and I meant it. “You are an excellent chef. Can we be friends? Will you keep in touch and let me know about your son and your grandchildren?”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I know you gave two-week’s notice, but I think you should take that time to do what your family needs to prepare for this big change. I can handle things here.”
“Thanks, but I need my pay.”
“Then let’s keep your hours to a minimum,” I said. “We’ll have you go home after lunch. Is that okay?”
“Thank you, Chef,” she said. “You are a good friend.”
“If not a bit selfish,” I gave her a big hug. Here I was concerned about my big date and the investigation to clear my name, but it seemed so small compared to what Agnes was facing.
“Well, enough self-pity.” Agnes brushed away her tears. “Let’s start on lunch. I’ll pick the vegetables from the garden and have them prepped and ready.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You are amazing.”
“Stop it. I’m just doing my job while I have it.”
“It will be here when you are ready to come back,” I said.
“Oh no, you will find someone else to work with, but that is fine. I know I’ll always have a place in one kitchen or another at the palace.”
Her years of working at the palace told me she was right.
Chapter 30
After dinner, I headed back to my room earlier than usual
to get ready for my date. I had showered, put on Penny’s dress, and was in the process of curling my hair when there was a knock at my door. “Just a second,” I called, glancing at the bedroom clock. It was a half an hour before my date. Jasper shouldn’t be here this early. I winced because half my hair was curled and I had no makeup on and no shoes.
The knock came again and I hurried to the door. A quick glance through the peephole and I opened the door. “Rachel,” I said. “Hi, what brings you by?” I glanced up and down the empty hall. “If you’re looking for Penny, I haven’t seen her.”
“Hello, Chef,” she said with an odd look in her eyes. “I need you to come with me.” She grabbed a hold of my arm and pulled me into the hallway.
“I’m sorry, I’m getting ready for a date,” I said as she pulled me down the hall. “What is this about? Surely it can wait until morning.”
“It’s Evie,” she said. “She needs you.”
“Is it an emergency? Because I can go get my phone and call for help.”
“Calling won’t help,” Rachel said. “She needs you now.”
We hit the end of the hall and I forcefully yanked my arm away from her. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even have my shoes on. Let me get my phone.”
“No,” Rachel said. She raised her hand and I blinked. She had a gun.
“Is that a gun?” I know it was a stupid thing to say, but I’d never been near a person with a gun. This is England, not America.
She took my wrist. “Come with me, now!”
“Okay, okay.” I raised my spare hand. “I don’t have my shoes.”
“You don’t need shoes.” She pulled me down the stairs, beyond my kitchen, and down into the cellars below the palace. I had never been down here. It was cold and smelled of mold and dampness.
“How did you get a gun?” I asked. I guess it was a strange question to ask when one was being kidnapped but handguns were prohibited in England. Even police officers rarely had them—although I’d seen Ian and his guards pull them out in emergencies. “Is that one of security’s weapons?”
“Shut up and come on,” Rachel said.
“You know they have cameras in the halls, right? So they saw you force me down the hall.”
“I said shut up.” Rachel dragged me down another set of stairs into darker reaches. This area was built out of stone and had to be hundreds of years old.
“Fine.” I pushed through the damp darkness. It was clear these were all storage areas. There were lights, but they were not close together. The area might have been used as bomb shelters during World War II. “Is Evie down here?”
“Go up these stairs,” she said as she pushed me up. We climbed two flights and I opened the door at the top to come out in the exterior hallway of the administration area.
“Huh,” I said. “How did you know about this route?”
“You’d be surprised what administration has access to.” She stuck the gun barrel into my side. “Now out we go.”
I opened the door and found myself out in the parking area. “To the Orangery,” she whispered in my ear.
“Cameras will see us,” I felt the need to point out. “You can shoot me here but people will know it’s you.”
“I know the camera guy,” Rachel said with a gleam in her eye. “He and I go way back.”
I walked with more confidence than I felt. I knew from school that the chances of a rescue dropped when you moved away from where they expect you to be. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to be forcing me into a car. We walked quietly around the building to the rear of the Orangery. The back door to the kitchen was open.
“Inside you go.” She waved the pistol at me.
I stepped into the kitchen to find Evie standing near the walk-in freezer. The door to the freezer was open and condensation filled the air shrouding her in a mist.
“Hello, Carrie Ann,” Evie said.
“Evie,” I said. “I thought you and Rachel were feuding.”
“We did a good job of fooling everyone, didn’t we?” Rachel said and closed the door behind me.
“Yes,” I said. “You did. Nice touch, by the way, abandoning Penny that night.”
“She is a gossip and a do-gooder,” Rachel sneered. “She needed to know what it felt like to be abandoned.”
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“Shut up and sit down,” Evie said. She grabbed me by the arm and put me in a chair inside the freezer. It was icy inside and my bare feet stuck to the floor. I lifted them up but the circulating air was not much warmer.
“You don’t have to know why you’re here,” Evie said. She raised her hand and I could make out the outline of a knife.
“If I’m going to die, I think I should know why.”
The only light in the kitchen was the light inside the freezer. I could see my breath and a shiver struck, me running down my spine.
“You have returned to the scene of the crime,” Evie said.
“What crime?” I hedged. They hadn’t tied me to the chair yet. But Rachel held the gun steady on me, and Evie had a knife. It was a sure bet one would do me in before I could run very far. I tried to move so that I sat on my feet.
“Stop wiggling!” Evie commanded, putting the knife to my throat. I felt a burning sensation and a pull tug. It was the same quick feeling you get when you accidently cut your finger while chopping vegetables. I’d only done it a few times when I first started cooking, but it was a feeling you didn’t forget.
I slowly, carefully put my feet down to where they hovered over the cold floor not quiet touching it. “What crime scene?” I asked again. “Wentworth Uleman’s or Chef Wright?”
“You don’t fool us with the Chef Wright business. We know you were sleeping with him.”
I swallowed carefully. “I can assure you I wasn’t sleeping with Wentworth.”
“Of course you weren’t sleeping with that strange little man,” Evie said with disgust. “We are talking about Don. We’re all grown women here. You can admit that you and Don were lovers.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Don’t you?” Rachel said. “He told Evie that you were sleeping with him.”
“What? No, I’m dating Jasper.”
“Jasper doesn’t date,” Evie said. “He has a wife.”
“What? Jasper told me he was single.” It all seemed preposterous. I’d met his family members. Surely they would have said something about his showing up with another woman in tow.
“See?” Evie said. “You are no different than we are. When a man shows interest we go for it. It has nothing to do with the women he left behind.”
“Evie, why did you kill Wentworth?” I searched for anything to get her to slow down.
Evie chuckled. “I didn’t kill Wentworth. Rachel did.” She looked at Rachel with pride in her eyes.
I licked my lips and tried to smile at Rachel. “That was very clever. How did you do it?”
“You made it so easy by leaving the pie for me.”
I sent a small smile her way. “Did you put the poison in the meringue?”
“That would have been clever,” she said. “But too much work. He drank it, actually. After he was gone, I sprinkled some on the pie to divert attention. The rest was a matter of cleanup. Do a few dishes and, poof, no more evidence.”
“How did you get the poison?”
“Aren’t you full of questions?” Evie said. “Why is that so important?”
“It was all so clever,” I said. “I did some research and cyanide is near to impossible to purchase.”
“I didn’t need to purchase it,” Rachel said. “I have a degree in chemistry. It wasn’t cyanide, exactly, although it had the same effect. It was acetonitrile from my acrylic nail remover. Drink it and wait.”
I frowned. “How long did you wait?”
“Long enough to enjoy a piece of pie,” she said with a smile.
My stomach lurched. “Why? What did Wentworth do to you?”
&
nbsp; “He tried to blackmail me. He threatened to tell Evie I was sleeping with Don.”
“But she knows.” I looked from one woman to another and fought the shivering in my chest. It was incredibly cold in the freezer. My feet had started to go numb along with my fingers.
“Of course she knows,” Rachel said with a sigh. “I told you I slept with Don to show Evie how fickle he was.”
“That Wentworth boy thought he could extort money from my friend. He was wrong to do it. Something had to be done,” Evie said. Then she shrugged. “So we did it.”
“And Chef Butterbottom’s poisoning?”
“Purely accidental,” Rachel said. “I was trying to make Don sick.”
“Why?” I shivered hard, my back teeth clanking. “I thought you loved him.”
“I didn’t love him. Evie did.” Rachel waved the gun around. “Don needed to learn a lesson,” Evie said. She stood tall. “He told me I was his one true love. He promised me that he would leave that evil witch of a wife of his for me when I got pregnant.”
“But he had a vasectomy,” I said. “You couldn’t get pregnant.”
“See, that’s where everyone has it wrong,” Evie said her voice rising. “I can get pregnant and I did. He promised to leave her. He promised.”
“You told him you were pregnant that day didn’t you?” I felt pity for her. “He laughed at you and told you there was no way it could be his.”
“He said he would leave her for me if I got pregnant,” Evie said. “Then he ridiculed me. He said I was nothing to him.” She patted her tummy. “But you see, I got pregnant for him.”
“How?” I whispered.
“Fertility clinics are so expensive,” she said. “But he should have been happy to pay. I was giving him what he wanted.”
“You picked up a knife and killed him.” I calculated whether I would make it to the door. My numb feet wouldn’t take me far. But if I could get out into the parking area … If I could get under the cameras … At the very least they might figure out who killed me.
“I didn’t kill him, but I wanted to. He laughed at me. He told me I was stupid. He said he had moved on to a new girl—someone who understood him better.” She pushed the knife under my chin. “You.”