by Lyndsey Cole
Annie nodded. “Anyone here plus Robin’s boyfriend, Jared. He was hiding upstairs. Leona and I didn’t find him until after we discovered the chef was dead.”
Christy slapped her notebook closed and tucked it in her shirt pocket. She nibbled on one end of a strawberry, getting more chocolate than fruit with her taste. She waved the treat at Leona. “So delicious.” She pushed herself back from the table and stood. “I hate to leave this lovely gathering but there’s work to be done.”
“Well, who did it?” Connie blurted out.
Christy grinned. “You’ll be the first to know,” she said before she let herself out.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Connie asked. “The first to know? Does she think I murdered the chef?”
Sarah, who had been sitting next to Connie, patted her arm. “I’m sure that’s not it. You were helpful and she just meant she’d let you know when she figures it all out. I think it was that boy hiding upstairs.”
“Don’t look at me,” Robin said. “If Jared killed the chef, he certainly didn’t confide in me.” She got up from the table and silently disappeared.
“She’s like a ghost, and what is she always doing with that phone of hers?” Sarah asked. “Maybe she’s the murderer,” she added as an afterthought.
Maybe, Annie thought. She looked carefully at each of the guests at the table—Sarah, quiet and timid; Connie, outspoken and friendly; Alex, helpful with a touch of mystery; and George, sullen and angry. Jared nervously hightailed it home, which made him look guilty of something.
Which brought her thoughts back to Robin and how she said she knew who killed the chef. Did she mean she knew who kill him in her novel or did she do it and was trying to divert the focus to everyone else? The number of possible murderers was stuck at six.
19
Annie carried a stack of plates into the kitchen. Leona followed close behind.
“This all has me completely creeped out.” Leona set a pan still half-filled with lasagna on the counter. “By the looks of what wasn’t eaten, I think Christy’s presence had a chilling effect on the guests’ appetites.”
“I saw Christy leave and figured it was safe to come inside,” Danny sheepishly said as he entered the kitchen from the back door and threw his red baseball cap on the table. “What happened? I just caught your last comment.” He eyed the lasagna and grabbed a plate. “Are you saving this for anything?”
“No. Help yourself. There’s salad, too.” Leona left the kitchen and returned with more leftovers. “It seems someone took a fancy to the chocolate covered strawberries. Every last one has disappeared; along with all the guests.”
Danny cut himself a hefty serving of lasagna and slid it on his plate. He tipped the rest of the salad next to his portion. “So, anything new?”
“Not really,” Annie said thoughtfully. “Except that Christy might be focused on Connie because of the dog leash.”
“Buddy’s leash?” Danny’s forehead scrunched in confusion.
“Christy didn’t say the leash was the murder weapon, but she sure was excited when I pulled it out of my pocket.”
Danny sat at the kitchen table. “Maybe there were dog hairs on the chef’s neck.” He took a big bite of lasagna. “Mmmm,” he mumbled, “delicious.”
Annie looked at Leona. “Of course!” It was like a lightbulb went off. “Dog hairs could connect the leash to the chef. Why didn’t one of us think of that?”
“You two make everything too complicated,” Danny said. “Me? I’m just a simple carpenter.” He continued eating and grinning. “Glad I could be of some help before I have to leave.”
“What’s your plan for the afternoon?” Annie asked Leona.
Leona’s gaze traveled around the kitchen. “Cleanup is first on my list, then round two of my workshop. Why? You aren’t thinking of bailing out on me, are you?”
“Could you do without me for an hour or so?” Annie fidgeted.
Leona, who had started rinsing dishes and filling the dishwasher, turned to look at Annie. “I’m not sure I like the sound of your question. What are you planning?”
“I want to go to Bigger Burger and ask a few questions. Chef Marcel and Phil were there on Friday according to my neighbor’s son. Maybe someone who works there heard something or saw something. If he hasn’t told the police yet, Christy won’t have followed that thread.”
“I don’t know,” Leona waffled.
“I have time to help you clean up before I leave,” Danny offered. “If Annie leaves now, she’ll be back before you have a chance to miss her.”
“Okay. But be back by three. I’ll need your help with the next project—my cherry cake. I have to do something with all the cherries Chef Marcel left here. I wish he had left his recipes, too.”
“Sure, no problem.” Annie was already halfway out of the kitchen. She wasn’t going to dawdle and give Leona a chance to change her mind.
On her way through the living room, she found Roxy curled up on the couch next to Connie and Buddy. Connie’s head was tipped to one side, her mouth hanging open and soft snoring noises coming out with each breath. Roxy perked up. Annie patted her leg and Roxy followed.
Once outside, Annie sent a text to Jason saying she was stopping at the house and for him to be ready for an outing. She didn’t explain anything else, there would be time for that when he joined her. Besides, her plan was simple—see if anyone at Bigger Burger remembered any morsel of information about Chef Marcel. If yes, she’d figure out what to ask.
Leaving Roxy at home with the cats, Annie and Jason headed out with Jason behind the wheel. “This is a surprise,” he said. “You’re sneaking out to a restaurant instead of eating Leona’s food?”
“Not exactly. When Christy showed up at lunchtime and sat at the table with the guests, I lost my appetite. It’s back now, though.” She grinned and patted her stomach. “Did you discover anything of interest in Chef Marcel’s background?” Annie asked as Jason drove through Catfish Cove.
“Sort of, but it was conflicting. You know how people can be online when they post reviews about stuff?”
Annie nodded.
“Well, I found a couple of scathing reviews by extremely dissatisfied participants in one of his workshops last year.”
“Different people?”
“As far as I could tell. The complaint was that Chef Marcel had no clue what he was doing and relied on his assistant to more or less run the demonstration instead of doing everything himself.”
“An assistant? Let me guess, was his name Phil?”
“Close enough. In the review, he was referred to as Philip. Do you suppose it’s the same Phil who turned up dead on Friday?” Jason pulled into the parking lot of Bigger Burger.
“Yes, I definitely suppose that’s possible. Did you find out anything about this Philip?”
“Possibly.” Jason grinned.
Annie twisted in the seat to face Jason. “Tell me before I explode.”
“An unnamed participant shared what he overheard Philip and Chef Marcel arguing about.”
“No kidding. How did you find that?”
“When I Googled the chef’s name,” Jason turned the car off, “I found an article by a food critic who was doing a segment on one of the workshops. He included an interview with Chef Marcel, who did a great job promoting himself. But he also interviewed this unnamed person who painted a different picture—unhappy participants, demands for refunds, and the rumor of a scam in the works.”
“Oh, some juicy gossip? That’s great.”
“That’s for sure. The article went on with more comments about the chef and it wasn’t all flattery.”
“Interesting. Wouldn’t the people who came to the Blackbird look up reviews before signing up for one of these workshops?”
“You would think so, but, apparently, some people are just too trusting. And there’s that whole,” Jason used his fingers to make air quotes, “French Chef mystique.”
“But,” Annie felt
some excitement brewing inside, “I bet someone who came to the Blackbird knew some of the chef’s history and that’s why he’s dead now—revenge.”
“But what about Phil? Do you know how he died?”
“Poison is the rumor going around. With a bit of luck we’re getting closer to more detail if someone inside Bigger Burger has any information.” Annie opened the car door and stepped out. She was glad to see that there weren’t many cars in the parking lot which meant whoever was working might find time for a friendly chat.
“I printed these for you, too.” Jason handed Annie a couple of folded papers.
When she opened them, she smiled. “Good thinking.” One page was a photo of Chef Marcel and the other was a photo of a Philip Hanks.
Annie opened the restaurant door and walked inside. A sleigh bell announced them. It was a small but cozy space. The menu was printed on a big blackboard above the counter—a big selection of burgers, pizzas, drinks, and fries. Half a dozen tables were available but, at the moment, no patrons were sitting. One man finished paying and left with two bags of food. The smells were mouthwatering.
Annie and Jason studied the menu before approaching the counter.
“How are you doing today?” Annie said with a smile at the waitress.
“Okay.” She pushed some stray hairs away from her face and held her pencil ready. “Ready to order?”
“Um, I’ll have your veggie burger with caramelized onions and cheddar cheese,” Jason said, then left and sat at one of the small tables for two.
“The bacon cheeseburger for me, please.” Annie smiled and was glad to see that the woman’s uniform had a name tag pinned on the breast pocket.
“To go?” the thirtyish woman asked.
“Not today. We’ll eat here, Tricia.”
Tricia smiled. “Thanks for noticing.” She called the order to the cook standing at the grill and turned back toward Annie. “Is there something else?”
“Two waters . . . and I’m wondering if you were working last Friday afternoon.”
Tricia rolled her eyes toward the ceiling as if she was looking back in time. “I was. Why?”
Annie held up the two photos. “Do you recognize either of these guys?”
Tricia’s eyes opened wide. “Are you a cop or something?”
“No.” Annie had to think up a convincing story. “This one,” she pointed to the chef’s photo, “was running a pastry workshop at my aunt’s Blackbird Bed and Breakfast and we’re all just devastated about what happened.”
“What do you mean?” Tricia’s eyes narrowed.
“You didn’t hear? Well, this one,” she held up Phil’s photo, “died sometime between when he was here and before he arrived at the Blackbird. The chef died,” Annie lowered her voice, “right in his room at the bed and breakfast. In bed.” Annie grimaced.
Tricia’s hand covered her mouth. “That’s terrible.”
“Do you remember seeing them here?”
Tricia looked around and leaned toward Annie. “I served them but my boss,” she nodded her head toward the cook, “doesn’t want me talking about it. Bad for business, he said.”
“Oh, I understand completely. That’s why I’m trying to figure out what happened—you know, to help my aunt out with her business.” Annie tilted her head, raised her eyebrows and gave Tricia what she hoped was her best please-help-me-out-here look.
Tricia looked at her watch. She whispered. “I’m off in a half hour. After you eat, we could talk somewhere else.”
Annie smiled and nodded. She reached her hand out and patted Tricia’s arm. “Thank you.”
Annie returned to the table and sat across from Jason. “Did you work your pleading puppy dog eyes on the waitress to get her talking?”
“I did. She agreed to talk to me after we eat and her shift is done. Her boss doesn’t want any bad publicity for his business.”
Jason sat with his elbow resting on the table and his hand cupped around one side of his mouth. “Something must have happened if he’s nervous about bad publicity. Usually, any publicity is good but I suppose when it comes to murder, people might freak out and avoid this place.”
Annie nodded but she was already thinking about something else. “A couple of things I heard make more sense now,” Annie said. “Thelma’s son said he heard Phil tell the chef to pay up or the whole deal was over, and you uncovered this article about unhappy customers and a possible scam. So—” her fingernails clicked on the wood table. She leaned closer to Jason. “I’m thinking that maybe Phil was blackmailing the chef.”
Tricia appeared with two plates overflowing with food and two waters. “Here you go. One veggie burger and one bacon cheeseburger.” She lowered her voice. “I added extra fries so if you take your time you’ll be done when my shift ends.”
“Thanks, Tricia.” Annie laughed. “This is a mountain of food. I might need a doggy bag.” Annie added a mound of ketchup to her plate and sampled a fry. “Hot and crispy, just the way I like them.”
The restaurant door jingled. Jason, who faced the front door, said, “Don’t look now.” He nibbled on a fry.
Of course, Annie turned to look. She groaned.
Detective Crank and Police Chief Johnson headed to the counter. Tricia looked up, first at the two officers, then she caught Annie’s eye.
“Where’s your boss?” Christy leaned on the counter and looked around. She smirked when she saw Annie. Tyler kept his back to her.
With that attitude, Christy wouldn’t get any information from Tricia’s boss, Annie thought to herself. She didn’t even take the time to learn Tricia’s name. In another twenty minutes, Tricia would be talking to her instead of the police.
20
Detective Crank ambled over to Annie and Jason’s table while the owner finished at the grill. She gave the illusion that the most important thing on her mind was a juicy burger. Annie knew otherwise.
“Nice place. Do you come here often?” Christy asked, but Annie didn’t fail to understand the underlying question.
Annie finished her bite of burger. She could see Christy beginning to seethe with impatience. She wiped her mouth before she answered. “Occasionally, how about you? I highly recommend the bacon cheeseburger. It’s juicy with the perfect complement of crispy bacon and cheese.” Annie took another bite, knowing that wasn’t the information Christy was after.
Christy put both hands on the table and stared at Annie. “What are you doing here?” she hissed between clenched teeth.
“Eating. Is that a problem?” Annie felt Jason bump her foot but she ignored his warning to stop giving cute answers. They both knew what was behind Christy’s question.
“Why here, Annie? Why here where a murder victim was last seen alive?”
Annie’s hand covered her mouth, just like Tricia had done earlier. Only Annie’s gesture was mock shock. “You’re kidding.” Annie pushed her plate away. “You think he died from this food?”
Christy pulled another chair to the small table and squeezed between Annie and Jason. “Your neighbor’s son told me about the conversation he heard here Friday night between Chef Marcel and Phil Hanks. He told me you said he should share the information with me. So, let me ask you one more time—why are you here?”
Annie’s eyes shifted to Tricia. Did she know anything? Annie looked at Christy and shrugged. “Curiosity. Leona is a mess because of the murder and I’m curious if anyone here heard anything. The sooner this is wrapped up, the better for her business.”
“Agreed. Did you find out anything?” Christy’s tone changed only slightly, letting Annie know that they were on the same side even if they couldn’t work together.
Annie shook her head. Not yet since she hadn’t talked with Tricia and she didn’t feel the need to send Christy after the poor waitress who was jumpier than a rabbit trying to escape becoming dinner for some hungry fox.
Christy stood. “Two people are dead. Don’t let it become three.” She walked back to the counter where the
owner was waiting for her.
Annie couldn’t hear their conversation but she could see the man shake his head after every one of Christy’s or Tyler’s questions. If he knew anything, he wasn’t sharing it with them.
Jason nudged Annie’s foot with his. He tilted his head toward the exit. Tricia had just disappeared through the door.
“I have to catch her before she changes her mind and ditches me,” Annie whispered. “I’ll go out and you can get a doggie bag for the leftovers.” She pulled her jacket on as she hustled toward the door. She didn’t dare glance at Christy but hoped that she was still occupied with the owner and didn’t notice her quick departure.
It was all in vain. All Annie saw as the door closed behind her was an older, rusty Honda leaving the parking lot. Tricia must have known something and that something had her spooked, was all Annie could imagine.
She heard the door open behind her and felt Jason’s arm on her shoulder. “No luck?”
“I was too late. I’ll have to swing by tomorrow and try to catch her if she’s working then. Let’s get out of here before Detective Crank comes out. I don’t think the owner will share anything since he told Tricia not to talk to anyone. Besides, I promised Leona I’d be back to help her with her next baking session.”
They walked to Jason’s car. “What’s she teaching next?”
“Cherry cake.”
“That doesn’t sound particularly interesting. To me at least. Do you want me to come with you now or wait until later?” Jason pulled out of the parking lot.
“We’ll all be busy in the kitchen until at least four so come then if you want. Once the session is done, Leona will have to get dinner ready for the guests.” Annie patted her stomach. “I won’t be hungry after that burger.”
“Okay. I’ll plan on hanging out in the living room to keep the fireplace going and make friends with Connie or anyone else who comes in. Will that be helpful?”
Annie put her hand on Jason’s thigh. “Extremely. Just ask a few innocent questions and see where the conversation goes. Connie loves to hear herself talk. If Robin says anything, it will have some sort of meaning since she chooses her words carefully. George sulks but, who knows, maybe he’ll open up to another man. His wife, Sarah, just frets about everything.”