by Hillary Avis
Ouch.
“Well, no, I guess not,” Bethany stammered. “But everyone else.”
He jotted something down. “I imagine he was wondering why you waited until the last minute to reveal this information, when you clearly knew even yesterday that he wasn’t doing the cooking himself. Was it just a ploy to win the contest?”
Bethany’s jaw dropped. “No, of course not. I’m not going to win anyway—Judge Gallagher couldn’t even swallow my entry!” She pointed to where the he was sitting with Chuck and Mayor Strauss.
As she pointed, Judge Gallagher clutched his throat and fell to the floor, his eyes rolling back in his head.
Milo reacted instantly, sprinting for the exit. Mayor Strauss gasped and went pale, and Chuck rose to his feet so quickly that he knocked over the chair he’d been sitting in.
“Trent!” he bellowed, leaning over the judge. “Trent, are you OK?”
Ned kneeled, pale and trembling, and checked Judge Gallagher’s pulse. “He’s not breathing. D-do you think we should give him mouth-to-mouth?”
Chuck grimaced. “I don’t know. He’s sort of—foaming.”
“Well, someone better do something.” Garrett pushed up his sleeves and marched toward the judges, but Clementine caught his arm.
“Don’t—they have it covered.” Her chin was quivering, but she pointed to the doorway with a steady hand. Running full speed into the tent, Milo had returned with two paramedics. They must be ones that were assigned to the event for safety reasons, and it was a good thing they had been—Judge Gallagher stopped twitching and began to turn blue.
The paramedics kneeled beside the judge to take his vital signs, then suddenly burst into action. They loaded the judge onto one of the food carts and exited as quickly as they’d arrived, leaving the entire tent reeling. Mayor Strauss sat in her seat, frozen and wide-eyed, and seemed to be in shock at the turn of events. Chuck rubbed his forehead, speechless for once, and Ned shook his head and muttered to himself.
He must be having flashbacks about what happened to him, poor guy.
Bethany realized she’d been gripping the edge of her workstation so hard that her fingers had turned white. She let go, wincing, and flexed her hand. Clementine burst into tears, and Garrett patted her on the back.
“So how are we going to find out who won?” Alex threw up his hands in exasperation.
Well, it wasn’t you, obviously, so why are you so concerned? Bethany frowned at him. “The real question is what happened to Judge Gallagher? Is he going to be OK?”
“We just have to wait and see,” Garrett said grimly, his arm still around Clementine as she sobbed into her sleeve. “On both counts.”
Over at the judge’s table, Chuck snapped his fingers at Ned. “Dude, get the camera rolling! Get this stuff on film. All these tears will be TV gold.”
Bethany felt queasy listening to him, and it seemed like Ned felt the same way. He sat near the wall of the tent, breathing heavily. “Give it a minute, won’t you?” he asked.
Annoyance flickered across Chuck’s face. “You have a job to do—so do it! It’s not pretty, and it’s not easy, but this ain’t kindergarten, either!”
Ned let out a deep breath and struggled to his feet. Shouldering the camera, he headed toward Clementine and Garrett, who shrank from his lens. Garrett reached out to shield them from the camera with his hand.
“You’re contractually obligated to participate if you want the prize!” Chuck called from across the tent, and Garrett’s hand dropped to his side.
“I was just trying to make something he’d like,” Clementine snuffled, turning her teary gaze to Ned. “I want to go to the hospital. Where’d they take him?”
“I don’t know,” Ned said in a low voice from behind the camera.
Garrett handed Clementine a paper towel. “Probably Mercy. It’s the closest. I’ll drive you over there if you want.”
She nodded tearfully. “Yes, let’s go.”
“No one’s going anywhere!”
Bethany looked up and saw Charley standing in front of the group. To the average observer, Charley’s expression was stern and businesslike. But as one of her closest friends, Bethany could see the faint crease in her forehead, the tension in her jaw—Charley was rattled.
Alex eyed Charley skeptically. “Are we under arrest? Because if we’re not, then we should be free to leave.”
“If you leave, you forfeit the cook-off,” Ned muttered under his breath.
“Stop it with the rules!” Clementine wailed. “Trent could be dead!”
Why is she calling him Trent instead of by his formal title?
“Calm down!” Charley put her hands on her hips and glared at everyone in the tent. “I’m very sorry to say that Judge Gallagher passed away en route to the hospital. The paramedics notified me because he had the same symptoms as Ned, here. While we wait for the tox report, we’re assuming the judge was the victim of foul play.”
Bethany’s heart sank. Just what I need—another Newbridge scandal involving my food.
“He was poisoned?” Milo asked, his face tense and alert.
Of course, he’s loving it. His career rises while mine crumbles. She felt the corners of her eyes begin to burn as tears threatened to fall.
Charley nodded. “It seems so. And if it’s the same poison that affected Ned, it was administered here at the cook-off. And since you were all present at the previous meeting, and you’re all here now, I’m afraid you’re all under investigation.”
Mayor Strauss raised her hand. “I wasn’t at the original meeting.”
Charley nods. “I’d still like you to answer a few questions, but I can swing by your office later, if that works for you.”
Mayor Strauss nodded and hurriedly gathered her purse and jacket from her chair. She speed-walked out of the tent without looking to the right or left, avoiding eye contact with all of the contestants.
All of the suspects. Bethany couldn’t help noticing something pleased about the expression on Mayor Strauss’s face, though. She looked around to see if anyone else had caught the smile quirking the corner of the mayor’s mouth, and as she did, she noticed Ned putting down the camera. Chuck scowled at him and motioned toward the pile of gear. Ned nodded and rifled through a huge black duffel bag until he extracted a battery pack and swapped it out with the one in the camera. This caught Charley’s eye, and she held up one finger.
“That won’t be necessary. No further filming, please. Take the tape out of both cameras and give it to me, please.”
“What?!” Chuck, who’d be uncharacteristically silent, stood up and leaned across the judge’s table to snarl at Charley. “No tape, no show. No show, no cook-off. No cook-off, no prize money. Do you understand me?”
Charley drew herself up to her full five-foot, three-inch height. “Now how about you listen. A man is dead. If I don’t get those tapes in my hand in the next thirty seconds, you’ll both be arrested for obstruction. No tapes, no bueno. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, officer!” Ned scrambled to take the tapes out of the cameras while Chuck gaped at Charley.
“Why do you need them?” he asked. “It’s not like we’re going to put the death on the air or anything. We’re not that kind of show.”
Charley rolled her eyes. “Mr. Bolton, if one of the contestants poisoned Judge Gallagher, it’ll be on the tape. If there’s nothing on the footage, it will be returned to you.”
Clementine erupted in sobs again. Why is she so emotional about the judge? Maybe the competition was just too much for her. Bethany moved closer so she could offer Clementine a comforting hug.
“You seem upset, Ms. Gourd. Why is that?” Charley’s eyes narrowed inquisitively.
Clementine sniffed. “He died before he could even taste my chili, that’s all.”
“Doesn’t that prove you didn’t poison him? Isn’t that a good thing?”
“No! I just wanted a chance to win him over. And now it’s gone. He’s gone.”
What a jerk! Bethany had been thinking the same thing, but still—he didn’t need to say it out loud.
“If you wanted a chance at winning, you shouldn’t have made a fish-and-bean stew,” Clementine snapped at him.
Bethany cleared her throat, and Charley looked at her. “What?”
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“No, I know that sound. You were thinking something—what is it?”
“Well, you’ll see it on the tapes. But I remember Judge Gallagher saying that he didn’t want to taste Clementine’s chili because he was afraid of being poisoned.”
Clementine whirled to face her. “He didn’t mean it that way!”
“How do you know what he meant?” Alex asked. “I heard him, and it sounded pretty clear to me. He was afraid of eating your food.”
“I’m not engaging in this conversation.” Clementine crossed her arms and turned away, her lips pressed together and her chin quivering.
Alex rolled his eyes at her and sighed dramatically. “What can you do with that?”
Charley didn’t look impressed. “What about you, Mr. Vadecki? Did you have anything against Trent Gallagher?”
Alex flushed. “No.”
Ah, suddenly you don’t have so much to say, do you, Alex? Bethany studied him closely. He was clearly hiding something—but what?
Garrett snorted. “Judge wasn’t too fond of your fishy cooking. I’d hold that against him if I were you.”
“But all the judges hated it—not just Judge Gallagher,” Bethany blurted out. She looked over to Chuck for confirmation, but he wasn’t paying attention. He and Ned were having a tense conversation behind the judging table. Ned held the tapes from the cameras, and as she watched, Chuck tried to swipe them out of his hands. Was he trying to give the tapes to Charley, or was he trying to hide them?
Alex glanced at her, surprised, and nodded. “That’s right. I have nothing personal against the guy. I never even saw him before today.”
“I never saw him, neither,” Garrett said.
Charley paused. “Not even at the bakery?”
“Nope. I think he’s the kind of guy who takes a private car, not the train.”
“Hm.” Charley looked at Bethany. “How about you? Did you ever meet Judge Gallagher at the train station or at any of the events you’ve catered?”
Is she seriously questioning me as a suspect? Bethany shook her head. “Not that I remember.”
“So you had no reason to tamper with his chili?”
“No! Anyway, I don’t know if he even swallowed my chili. He spit it out because it was too spicy for him.” And who do I have to thank for that? You’re the one who helped me pick out those chiltepines! She glared at Charley.
Charley gave a tiny apologetic shrug and looked around the tent. “Where’s Monsieur Adrian?”
“Bethany ran him off,” Alex said. When Charley raised an eyebrow, he added, “She accused him of cheating so she could thin the field.”
“I did not! I just told the judges the truth, that Kimmy did all the cooking for him—I was trying to even the playing field, not thin it.”
“She’s telling the truth.” Clementine’s tears had stopped, but her eyes were still red and swollen. “Garrett and I had to change our entries to fit the rules. It wasn’t fair that Monsieur Adrian didn’t have to follow the same guidelines we did.”
“Maybe the guy poisoned the ol’ judge to get back at him,” Garrett said gruffly.
Alex scoffed. “When the judges ate Monsieur Adrian’s chili, he was still in the competition. He’s French, not a time traveler—he couldn’t poison someone after the fact!”
“Maybe he could, though.” Charley turned to Chuck, who was still playing tug-o-war with Ned for control of the tapes. “Did you see Monsieur Adrian doing anything strange when he approached the judges’ table? Could he have dispensed poison to Judge Gallagher in some other way? A spray, maybe? Or contact with an item other than food?”
Chuck wrested the tapes from Ned’s hands. He smoothed his hair with one hand and held out the tapes to Charley with the other. “I don’t think he came close enough.”
Charley took the tapes and slipped them into a large zippered plastic bag marked “EVIDENCE.” Chuck watched her, panting heavily from the struggle for the tapes, as Ned slumped into the chair beside him.
“Don’t sit there!” Chuck said, his eyes wide.
Ned jumped up and looked around. “Why not?”
“That’s where Trent was sitting! You heard what the cop said about contact with an item—the chair could be poisoned!”
“He was wearing a full suit. I doubt any part of his skin touched the chair.” Ned rolled his eyes and sat back down.
Chuck wiped his forehead and looked at the sweat on his hand. “Yeah. OK. I’m just getting amped because I ate everything the judge did. It’s kind of freaking me out, man.”
“There’s a reason we haven’t stopped people outside from eating the chili,” Charley said, nodding to the crowds in Waterfront Park visible through the tent door. “It’s pretty clear that Judge Gallagher was targeted intentionally. That’s why we’re interested in who bore a grudge against him specifically.”
“So are you going to make any arrests today?” Milo took a step toward Charley, as if that small distance would enable him to hear her answer better.
Charley held up the evidence bag. “It all depends on what’s on the tapes. We’ll make an arrest when we’ve gathered sufficient information. Could be today, could be next week. The important thing is that everyone in this tent stays in town. I may need to follow up with you later as the investigation progresses.”
“But the Ultimate Freakin’ Cook-off is supposed to film a maple syrup boil in Vermont in three days!” Chuck protested. “You can’t expect us to hang around this place indefinitely.”
Charley raised an eyebrow at him. “Actually, I do expect you to ‘hang around.’ But if you’d rather not, I’d be happy to detain you as a material witness.”
“We’ll be at the hotel,” Chuck grumbled. He waved Ned toward the door. “Get off your butt and move the gear out of here.”
Impressive. Little Charley Perez sure whipped The Tenderizer into shape. If his wrestling fans could only see him now. First he breaks a sweat trying to get the tapes away from a scrawny guy with a ponytail, and then he gets put into place by a teeny Latina. Bethany suppressed the giggle rising in her chest.
“That goes for the rest of you, too.” Charley looked pointedly at each of the contestants. “You, too, Mr. Armstrong.”
Milo’s jaw dropped. “Am I a suspect?!”
“You were at both events.” Bethany smirked at him.
Charley grinned. “Nah, you’re not a suspect. It’s just that we have a game on Monday night and I don’t want you to miss it.”
Chapter 11
SUNDAY EVENING
BETHANY BARRELED THROUGH the door of the cottage and flung herself on the sofa, exhausted to the bone. A cooking competition and a murder is too much excitement for one day, especially on zero hours of sleep. She closed her eyes and was just starting to doze off, when a voice startled her awake.
“So who won?”
Bethany sat up. Kimmy was perched on a barstool in the kitchen, stirring her glass with a straw.
“You’re home early! I thought you were working tonight.”
“Well, I would be if I had a job,” Kimmy said in a lilting tone. “But I don’t.” Her voice cracked on the last word, all attempts at making light of the situation failed.
Bethany reeled at the news. As sous chef, Kimmy ran Café Sabine singlehandedly. She didn’t have any kitchen help at all. Without her, Monsieur Adrian would have to do the cooking himself! And we all know he’s not going to do that.
“What happened?!”
“I don’t really know. Monsieur Adrian
came back from the cook-off in such a bad mood. He’s always a little prickly, you know, but this was bad. He told me to pack up my knives, because he was closing down the café and going back to France.”
“Whoa! He’s just running off like that?” Or running from the law, maybe. Could it be that the “something extra” Judge Gallagher had tasted in the cassoulet wasn’t wine after all.
“He said his reputation was ruined—and that it was my fault.” Kimmy’s face crumpled. “I guess the judges didn’t like what I made?”
Bethany got off the couch and joined Kimmy at the bar, leaning over to rest her head on Kimmy’s shoulder. “They loved it, actually. They say it was far and away the best.”
“So he won?”
Guilt gnawed at the pit of Bethany’s stomach. Should I tell her that I got him disqualified? She might hate me forever. “Well, no. Judge Gallagher disqualified him when he found out that he didn’t make the chili himself.”
Realization dawned on Kimmy’s face. “Oh, that’s why he said it was my fault. Now it makes more sense why he’s leaving the area, too.”
“Because he’s embarrassed?”
“Well, sort of. Café Sabine was all he had left in Newbridge. He and his husband Remy just had a really ugly divorce, and Remy went back to France. He’s been so distraught about it. That’s actually why he asked me to do the cooking for the competition.”
“So marriage in shambles, and now his restaurant has a stain, too—his cheating. But why would he go back to France? To try to get his husband back?”
Kimmy shook her head. “Probably to be near his kids. Remy got full custody.”
“Whoa. Why? It seems really rare that they wouldn’t get joint custody.” Monsieur Adrian must have some serious skeletons in his closet.
“Well, you know he’s a little hotheaded.” Kimmy grinned wryly. “I guess he blew up in court over something, and the judge decided he was an unfit parent.”
“Is he? I mean, do you think he’s a bad parent?”
Kimmy shook her head. “Nah, he’s a good daddy. He really loves his kids, and as crappy as he can be to his employees, he’s never said a harsh word to his kids that I’ve seen.”