Mystery: The Cook's Comeuppance: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 3)

by Victoria Benchley

  Just as Frogo reached the arches, a small man dressed in all white dashed from the shadows at full speed, his eyes wide with fright. Before either man could change directions, he slammed into the director, their faces colliding with an ugly smack followed by their bodies. Both men collapsed, entwined, onto the cobblestones. Only Frogo stayed down. The little man untangled himself from his victim and popped up like a gymnasium bag, continuing his sprint for the street. He passed close by Duncan, barely avoiding another collision and just dodged the automobile left out front by Frogo, before continuing out of sight.

  Duncan hurried to his friend who had sat up, but still looked dazed. Concern for Frogo kept him from noticing the screams coming from within the academy and the loud clanging of metal on metal. He bent over the director.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  Before Frogo could answer, Armondo stormed from the building, yelling something in a strange tongue and waving a saucepan in the air. He saw resignation pass over the director's face. The chef stopped in his tracks when he saw that Frogo was hurt and said something Duncan could not understand.

  "No, I'm just a little stunned," Frogo said to Mondo.

  Then, Armonodo reached for Frogo and lifted the director from the ground with one tug. Duncan took note of the size of the chef's hand. So, this was why Frogo seemed stressed earlier. He wanted to be present when the new sous chef met Mondo.

  "Where did that little mongrel go?" Armondo demanded.

  "He went that-a-way," Duncan replied, pointing towards the street with his thumb, half hoping the chef would follow.

  Years of watching the telly in the States had left Duncan with a wide vocabulary of words and phrases used in old Western movies.

  "That mongrel, that infidel! He abuses my knives without my permission!" Mondo bellowed, waving the pan about wildly again.

  The three men headed into the building, Mondo spouting insults at the now departed sous chef in several different languages while Frogo limped. They parted at the dining hall, Frogo and Duncan continuing to their offices. The director admitted to feeling a bit woozy.

  "I don't know what I'm going to do. The agency won't send us another candidate. The others have been claiming it's an abusive environment. He was our last hope," he complained, exasperated.

  A thought flashed across Duncan's mind like a bolt of lightening in a storm. It took root and within minutes he was convinced it would work. He popped his head into Frogo's office.

  "You've said I have carte blanche. Does that still stand Frogo?"

  The director nodded.

  Duncan continued, "Then I have a sous chef for you."

  * * * * * *

  He checked his emails. There was one from Angus. In all the excitement, Duncan had forgotten his brother's imminent arrival. He opened the message. It read,

  Don't worry about picking me up. I'll make my way there. See you tomorrow -Angus

  Maybe Angus knew something about the trains here that he did not. He exhaled and returned to his fault tree analysis program. He felt sure someone murdered Ella Peña, but believed he needed the math to prove it. Duncan began the task of entering the facts into the various gates below the top event. This was a wearisome but necessary process. He had already performed his preliminary analysis and set the boundaries. He named as his system the rigging conditions and operational state of the crane when Ella died. He entered the occurrences he was certain of into the gates below the top event. His method in choosing which incidents to include focused on immediate, necessary and sufficient cause parameters.

  He considered happenings closest in space, time and origin to Ella's death as immediate. He placed these into gates on the tree. There were quite a few holes in these areas, since no one knew what went on in the courtyard after the crew left. Leaving the crane with a load in the air, not utilizing a sling, and a sound lever were conditions listed as immediate by Duncan. Were they also necessary and sufficient?

  Next, he classified which of the affairs related to the top event were necessary. These must be non-casual, non-repetitive occurrences. This always proved a difficult task. For instance, the weather was casual and repetitive, yet it may have played a part in what happened to Ella, if say the wind kicked up before she entered the courtyard.

  Eventually, his program would identify a logical chain of happenings from the top event down to its causes. Algebraic equations written into the software provided the least number of conditions necessary to produce the top event. Probability measurements would be produced for each scenario. This way, Duncan hoped to pinpoint what human error, or deliberate act, caused the cook's death. Analysis of the police reports supplied some of the components. The last program he ran already pinpointed Ella's death as caused by human error. Duncan now needed to determine if it was an error or murder. He lost himself in these dilemmas before noticing his stomach rumble.

  Time had gotten away from him. He'd missed lunch and his head hurt from concentrating. Frogo had announced earlier that he was going home for the day, so Duncan made his way to the dining hall alone. At least Mondo said he'd have tea ready for him today.

  The chef proved true to his word. One of the smaller tables had been set for one, including table linens, cup and saucer, and milk. A silver lidded pitcher filled with hot water awaited him, along with a wooden box filled with a wonderful assortment of fine teas. Duncan assumed the table was for him and took a seat there. It wasn't long before Mondo appeared with a tray of goodies, including tea sandwiches.

  The chef placed the food on the table and sat down himself.

  "What do you think, Peasant? Does Mondo's tea meet your standards?"

  Duncan glanced around the table and inhaled his steeping tea.

  "Yes, I'd say it does. Thank you very much. I worked right through lunch and now I'm hungry."

  "I noticed you did not come for luncheon. The pretty Juliette asked about you. I am insulted you do not come for my food. But, I make the salmon mousse sandwiches especially for you, knowing you will be ravenous by tea time. You are not a bad fellow for a peasant."

  Duncan thanked his lucky stars that his stomach rumbled in time for tea. If he had not shown up for this, the chef might be chasing him with one of those infamous knives instead of complimenting him.

  "I appreciate your thoughtfulness and your food, Chef. Lunch was delicious yesterday," he added.

  Mondo seemed pleased. Duncan tucked into the salmon mousse sandwiches and gave the chef many compliments. Everything tasted marvelous. The sweets consisted of marzipan treats.

  "These are wonderful," Duncan enthused. "I didn't know you were a pastry chef as well," he added.

  "I'm not, I sent for those from Toledo," the chef laughed, slapping Duncan hard on the back. He continued, popping a pastry filled with tasty almond paste in his mouth, "Even Chef Mondo cannot do everything by himself!"

  Duncan's hunger slaked, he returned to his office. He shut the door and sat down. Then he pulled out his cellular and dialed Scotland.

  "Hallo, it's Duncan. I need your help."

  - 7 -

  Saved By a Vespa Brigade

  He awoke early, anxious to see his brother. The sun had just cleared the horizon, and Duncan figured it was the perfect time for a run. He pulled on his jogging gear and headed out of town on the same route he took yesterday. As he descended on the road out of the village, hills soon blocked the sun, and the cool shade allowed him to quicken his pace.

  All glare removed, Duncan noticed more than olive trees growing on the hillsides. He viewed sparse evergreens, he guessed the Spanish fir tree, along with the scruffy holm oak and shrub-like Spanish juniper. He rounded a bend while spotting the well-known Strawberry tree. The dark glossy leaves gave it away. Later, it would produce an edible red berry that tasted much like a fig.

  Still moving downhill, he almost sprinted around the next curve and found himself face to face with a herd of sheep blocking the road. He recognized the shepherd from yesterday. He halted and began t
o jog in place. He waved and shouted "Hola," to the young herdsman who responded with a grin. Duncan had been concentrating so hard on recognizing the local fauna that he didn't hear the bleats coming from the lambs.

  It wasn't an enormous group of animals, but it still took some time for them to clear the lane and head for the stream. At last, he could continue his run. By the time he hit the first uphill portion of his workout, the sun still hadn't cleared the knolls, and Duncan enjoyed jogging in the shade. About half way up the incline, sunshine greeted him, and it soon made a difference in his comfort level. He loped to the top of the hill and took in the view. Manchiego wouldn't wake for some time. This early, the village seemed backlit and its details weren't that easy to make out.

  He exchanged waves with the shepherd on his return to the village. Glad the incline to Manchiego was still in shadows, he pushed himself up the hill at a good pace. Duncan was out of breath when he reached the casa.

  Mary greeted him with a smile. She must have a string tied from her toe to the door, he mused, amazed that she was always up and ready to serve him at any hour. It was a bit unnerving.

  Once, as a gullible fourteen year old, Angus had convinced him to track their younger brother's morning movements by this method. An ardent Sherlock Holmes fan, young Duncan was always up for playing detective. Usually, Angus insisted on being Holmes while he was relegated to Mycroft, Sherlock's older brother.

  Harold, quite a bit younger, was already asleep in his bed when the older boys retired for the evening. Stifling a snicker, Angus tied one end of the string to Harold's small toe, then the other end to Duncan's largest. The cord spanning between their beds was taught. Unfortunately, Angus got up in the middle of the night to use the loo, and tripped on the thread. The upshot was a painful dislocated toe for both Harold and Duncan. He could still see the scene when his mum and dad charged the room in response to their loud cries.

  Everything happened so fast. Dad's hair was every which way, akin to a mad scientist, and his eyes were wild. Mum, right behind their father, resembled a space alien with her hair in rollers and some green substance all over her face. Her eyes were bloodshot and bulging. Together they made a frightening sight. All three boys screamed in unison at the shock of seeing their parents burst into the bedroom. Soon the tiny area was crowded by the arrival of their younger sisters, Sophie and Lilly, who also looked frightened. Somehow, Duncan received the blame for the debacle, although it was Angus who tightened the string around their toes.

  After showering, Duncan dressed for the day. He hoped Angus would arrive before siesta and they could have some fun together then. Once downstairs, Mary presented him with pastries and a bowl of café con leche. He enjoyed this two breakfast thing.

  It was still early, so he decided to work from home for a while. He fired up his laptop at the kitchen table while Mary tidied around the sink, occasionally peering over his shoulder at the computer's screen. His program had crashed. He reasoned the cause was lack of data, not incorrect information. He would have to go back to the drawing board for this fault tree. He found it strange when his inbox had no messages. He still had to adjust to working on his own. Perhaps after this job he could afford a staff member. Duncan scoured the police reports again and went over yesterday's conversation with Oficial de Policía Fernando Torrez. He decided to do some digging on the owner of the Alcalá Crane and Equipment Company, shown in the reports as Philip Torillo. He would not wait for his investigator's report.

  Duncan spent the next hour tracking down everything he could find on the internet about Señor Torillo. He found basic information going back about five years and then nothing beyond. He changed the spelling of the man's name and tried again with no results. This might require a professional, Duncan thought before packing up and heading to the academy. He dropped in on Frogo first thing.

  "Hallo, there. How are you feeling today?"

  "Much better, thank you. I had a bit of a headache after my encounter with the sous chef yesterday. I took some aspirin and went to bed," Frogo replied. He continued, "Speaking of sous chefs, when is your candidate arriving? I need to prepare Mondo."

  "She won't be here for a week, and she's not a candidate. You'll need to let Mondo know he's not to try and run her off. The job is already hers," he stated.

  "Leave it to me, Duncan."

  "And another thing, you cannot let anyone know I've brought her in, understand? It's vital," he said in a serious tone.

  "Sí, Señor," the director said with a grin. He added, "When is your brother arriving? I hope I get to meet him."

  "He should be here before lunch. Of course, I'll introduce you. I wouldn't have it any other way, Frogo. Would it be all right if I brought him by at meal time once in a while to sample Mondo's cooking?"

  "Sí. The more the merrier!" he responded. "But, I am surprised you are here so early, Duncan, after my explanation of Spain's workday timetable."

  "I got up early and went for a run. After that, I couldn't go back to sleep. I did work at home after my first breakfast, but by nine I was ready to be here."

  Frogo laughed out loud at the mention of Duncan's first breakfast.

  "Where did you run to?" he asked.

  "I've been running some of the hills outside of the village. There's a great view of Manchiego up one of the peaks. Both mornings I've seen a shepherd in traditional clothing with a herd of sheep. Today, they blocked the road for a time."

  "Ha! The shepherds have ancient rights in Spain. Last year, they brought thousands of sheep right through downtown Madrid. Everything came to a halt. It's an old tradition. The city has grown and now covers areas where the sheep used to graze freely. It was all over the news, no?"

  Duncan didn't want to explain that the sheep clogging Madrid's streets had not made the headlines on the BBC.

  "I don't watch the news often. I must have missed it, an impressive sight, I'm sure."

  "Sí! The shepherds were attired in their traditional dress and some even danced and played instruments. Most people loved it even though it did interrupt their lives," Frogo stated, his chin lifted in pride.

  "Well, don't work too long today, Frogo," he said as he rose to leave. He pointed at his own forehead and added, "You've got a nasty bruise where the infidel ran into you."

  Duncan could hear the director chuckling as he moved into his own office. He went back to his fault tree analysis program and reworked the top event and gates. He wanted to know what the probability was that someone else gained access to the key to the crane. It was eleven by the time he pushed the Start button. He checked his messages, but there were none. He looked up his brother's flight on the internet. Flight 345 arrived On Time, per the airline website. Duncan tried to reach Angus with his cellular, but it went straight to voicemail. He left him a message and walked to the academy's dining room, noting that Frogo's office was empty.

  Upon entering the hall, he spied Frogo and Mondo huddled at a corner table, in serious conversation. He decided to keep his distance. He poured himself a hot chocolate and grabbed two churros for his second breakfast. He parked himself next to a large window and enjoyed the view of village rooftops and the hills beyond.

  "Hola, Guapo," a female voice said from behind.

  Duncan turned to see Juliette. She was wearing cutoff shorts, a tank top, and tennis shoes and she looked smashing.

  "Hallo, there, Juliette. Please join me," he said, standing and pulling out a chair for her.

  "Gracias, Duncan," the artist said, sitting down.

  He had to admit, he was flattered the lass remembered his name.

  "I missed you yesterday," he said.

  Something about being in Spain made him bolder than usual.

  "Problems at the foundry," Juliette said with disgust. "They were threatening to move my pouring back a week. I told them I would come and pour it myself before I would allow them to change the agreed upon schedule. I spent half a day on the telephone, going, how do you say, up a ladder. Finally, I speak with
the honcho. He agrees to keep the original date."

  Juliette appeared calm at the moment, but Duncan could imagine what she was like going "up the ladder" until she spoke with someone in charge.

  She added, "I'm here now," expectantly.

  "Yes, you are. Listen, Juliette, my brother arrives today for a visit. Maybe we can all go out for dinner later in the week? Do you have a friend who would like to join us?"

  "Hmph, depends what your brother looks like," Juliette said, crossing her arms over her chest.

  "He's the good looking one. You might prefer him to me," he responded.

  A sly smile crept over Juliette's face as she lifted one eyebrow at Duncan. She caught him off guard by grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze.

  "I doubt that," she said, rising to leave.

  She didn't bother looking back as she sauntered across the dining hall.

  "Eh! Poner los globos oculares de vuelta en su cabeza?" Frogo said in a low tone, so no one else could hear.

  He had approached Duncan as the Scotsman admired Juliette's retreat.

  "What?"

  "Put those eyeballs back in your head, will you?" he repeated in English.

  Duncan could feel himself turning red.

  "She's hard to resist," he gave as his defense.

  "Finish your third or fourth breakfast and join me in my office will you?"

  "Sure, I'll be there en cinco minutos," Duncan said, practicing his Spanish.

  "Your accent needs work," Frogo called over his shoulder as he left the room, met half-way by a discontented Isabella Ramon.

  Duncan watched as the poet accosted Frogo with more complaints. He sniggered and dipped his churro into the chocolate. He savored the crispy, fried dough mixed with rich chocolate and thought about his analysis. This situation was different. In his experience, science and math played major roles in getting to the root cause of an accident. In life insurance investigations, the suspects were obvious. The beneficiaries had something to gain. Only Mondo appeared to have anything to gain by Ella's death. But Duncan felt his passionate nature precluded the planning of a cold blooded murder. He didn't need geometry or biology or photorectification to help solve this case. What he needed was a motive and opportunity. He snapped from his thoughts and checked his watch. He was late for his meeting with Frogo.