The Death of a Celebrity Chef

by Kee Patterbee

  “Can we help?”

  “I got it. I just haven’t gone through this stuff in a year. I was organizing it for a book I was going to work on, but after the accident, I…” Louie paused, and his eyes widened. “Got it!” He held a photo up in the air. He presented it to Hannah, who scanned it. Taken from a distance, the picture was of Julia in Paris alongside a man who seemed familiar.

  Not taking her eyes away from the photo, Hannah gestured toward the other room. “Buster, could you bring me my goggles?” He left without question. Seconds later, he returned with her hat before handing it to her. She removed the goggles and put them on. She took hold of the rim of one of the lenses and twisted.

  Louie assumed a puzzled expression. “What?”

  Cate waved him off. “I’ll explain later.”

  Her heart pumping, Hannah looked at the image through a magnifying glass on the goggles. She studied the man in the picture. “It’s Xabiere.” She glanced over at Louie. His face was an odd array of emotions. Happiness, sadness, affirmation, and resolution. It was as if a thousand-pound weight drifted away from his soul.

  “I knew it. I just didn’t want to recognize it,” Louie confessed. He walked over, sat down in his computer chair, and turned to face the others.

  “I got that box and about a dozen other things about a month before Julia died. It just showed up out of the blue. I figured I’d mentioned my project to someone, and they had some stuff, you know. I kind of shuffled through them at the time, and I ran across that photo.” Louie’s expression tightened, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s hard to see who it is, but I knew that whoever it was, it was the reason she didn’t want to be with me. It’s from when she was at the school. Before our night together, she had been seeing someone.” He rolled his eyes, glancing around the room, searching for words. “Well, and now we know. There is no such thing as coincidence in this world, Louie, my father used to say.”

  No one said anything, unsure as to how to respond. He looked at his friends. “Cate, would you do me a favor and retrieve the wedding photo off the wall in the living room?”

  Cate gave him a puzzled look, but went anyway. Everyone held their silence until she returned a second later. She was looking at the picture. “What are we looking for?”

  Louie did not answer. He stared as Hannah studied it, and pointed. “There. Xabiere.”

  Buster shook his head. “So, he was at her wedding. He was a protégé and her sous chef.”

  “For twenty years?” Cate commented in her usual disbelieving tone. “Please.”

  Hannah scowled. “No, look at his face.”

  The man in the picture seemed sad while the others, wedding guests and groom, all were in a joyous mood. Hannah reached down and pulled up her goggles from around her neck where she had left them hanging. “There’s an indentation here.” She flipped the photo over and removed it from the frame. Once out, she found there was an inscription on the back. The pressure from the writing instrument had pushed from the back to the front, leaving the raised letters on the other side. It was a recipe, and the inscription read, ‘I created this just for you, darling. Chocolate Lava Cake with Marinated Cherries Jubilee. With the greatest love.’

  Everyone turned to look at Louie. His face was almost emotionless. “I got that photo years ago from an auction and never gave it much thought. I threw it in a frame and hung it on the wall. I figured the picture was a gift, and Julia used it to present someone with her favorite recipe.” He gave a halfhearted smile and chuckled in a strange, unconvincing manner. “I should have looked at the damn handwriting.” He sat up straight and sighed. “It’s not hers.”

  Everyone glanced over at the inscription. Hannah could see this was not indicative of the Julia described to her. While in college, she had taken a course in graphology, otherwise known as handwriting analysis. She never forgot one word Professor Raptis had said. “It’s not the eyes that are the mirror to the soul,” he would inform. “It’s secrets that flow from your brain, down through a writing instrument, and onto the page.” Now, yet again, she was going to put his lessons to good use.

  Following the words, Hannah traced her finger along underneath, as she caught the patterns of the writing. She was not interested in the context. It most often revealed nothing beyond the moment of its creation. No, her interest was in word display, which indicated more what kind of person constructed it.

  “His handwriting suggests he has unresolved issues with his mother or a mother substitute,” Hannah stated with confidence.

  Cate never questioned her friend’s readings, as they always proved both true and of great value. “By substitute, you mean Julia.”

  Peering harder, Hannah agreed. “I’d imagine so.” As she continued along, she presented up her assessment for everyone present to hear. “He fears abandonment and loss of love. Wide word spacing indicates social isolation, either self-imposed or imposed by the rejection of others. He is solitary and fears being alone. He doesn’t want to lose the thing he loves, so continues to hang on to what he has.”

  Buster pointed to the inscription. “It’s disconnected. What does that mean?”

  “Space between letters indicates a form of control. By keeping his distance from others, he keeps his emotions in check. He has problems making friends because he’s somewhat reserved and uptight. There is no lean, which means that he has a cold personality. Calculating. Pitiful. Sadistic when it comes to other people’s suffering.”

  Cate tossed her hands for emphasis. “Nailed it.”

  Handing the photo to Cate, Hannah walked over, grabbed a small stool, and sat beside Louie. It was plain for her to see these new factors had hurt him. At first, he did not look at her, but he finally let his eyes meet hers. “I didn’t know her, did I?” Sadness echoed in his voice.

  “You met someone and fell in love. Sometimes, it just isn’t reciprocated in the same way. I’m sure she cared for you.”

  “Do you think he knew about Vera? That she was Julia’s?”

  It occurred to Hannah she had not given it much thought. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. After Vera, he went for Jazlyn. I think he’s fixated on whoever reminded him the most of Julia.”

  “If that’s the case, why’d he try to kill Jazlyn?” interrupted Buster.

  “I don’t think he meant to. Remember what I told you Chief Rogers said? The set up? It should have just blown Jazlyn back. If it weren’t for her apron catching on fire, it would hurt her, but not kill.”

  “That still doesn’t make sense,” Buster complained. “Was he just pranking her or something?”

  Cate joined them at the far end of the office. “Maybe he wanted to save her.” Everyone gave her a puzzled look, so she explained. “He said she would be with him in time. Maybe this is his way of drawing her to him. Some kind of Florence Nightingale plot.”

  Buster and Louie both leaned forward, both uttering the same words, “I don’t understand.”

  Cate sighed. She gestured to Hannah. “Explain it.” Hannah went on to elucidate that sometimes victims of traumatic events fall in love with their rescuers. “It’s known as the Florence Nightingale Syndrome.”

  Buster rubbed at his day-old facial growth. “So, by putting Jazlyn in danger, he planned to rescue her, thinking she would fall in love with him because of it?”

  Hannah nodded, affirming his assessment.

  “That’s just stupid. You’d have to be crazy to try something like that.”

  Smiling, Hannah pointed at Buster. “Now you’re catching on.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hannah and Cate looked on as paramedics loaded Asa onto the ambulance. Homer Staples climbed in back as well. His wife, Leona, left the house to follow them in their personal car.

  “Well,” Cate stated, “that didn’t go as planned.”

  Hannah dusted off her hat. “No, but it gives us an opportunity.” Placing it on her head, she looked at Cate. “It’s all starting to come together. Now,
come on. Let’s go get the final piece.”

  As she and Cate drove to the hospital, Hannah obsessed over the current state of the case.

  “Xabiere is responsible for all this. He called Julia the night she died and lured her out. He’s the one who attacked the house. And he’s suspected in Cranston’s sudden departure.” Hannah gestured, giving the quote sign with her first two fingers of both hands. “Hymn’s trying to get a subpoena for his phone records, but that will take some time.”

  Cate pulled into the parking lot of Zebulon Memorial Hospital. “So, what are we about to do?” She sighed. “As if I don’t know already.”

  “We’re going to get the records we need.”

  Cate shook her head as if to clarify what she had heard. “So, to be clear. We’re running with Prince Handsome’s theory that Xabiere left the hospital and killed Julia. He dragged her to the gazebo, slammed her head into the post, before he threw her in the water. After that, he returned here undetected between nurse rounds? Now we are going to break into the hospital records and get the proof? This, rather than get a subpoena for them, along with the ones for the phone?”

  Hannah smirked as she opened the car door and got out. Once again putting on her hat, she ran her pinched index and thumb around the rim. “Yup.” She slammed the door shut. “Don’t forget your laptop.”

  “You are such a drama queen.” Cate picked up the laptop and stepped out of the car, mumbling. “And we are so going to prison. Had to read detective novels, all those summers with her, didn’t you, Cate? Couldn’t get her to read teen romances, could you?” she scolded herself.

  “Have a little faith,” Hannah chided. “We’re close. As I see it, Julia rebuffed Xabiere. When he couldn’t have her, he tried to replace her with Vera, her second. But Jazlyn replaced Vera, making her up next. This all goes back to his obsession, his total fixation on Julia.”

  “Good Lord, and I thought Louie had it bad.”

  “I know, right? Xabiere has serious issues, which makes him dangerous. Now, we can wait for a few days for the permission to get his records, if Hymn can even convince a judge to give him permission. Give Xabiere the chance to catch on. Maybe flee. Or attack Jazlyn. Maybe take a shot at Vera and Louie again. Or we can get the records ourselves, force a confession, and let everyone, including Louie, get on with their lives.”

  It did not take Cate long to weigh the options. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  As they approached the hospital, Hannah suggested they find the cafeteria. It was an open area where no one would be suspicious of their work, and a good place for Cate to tap into the hospital’s Wi-Fi network. Hannah knew most modern facilities used these systems, but security around them is not always what it should be. As such, intruders within a set radius of the facility could access files, if they had the skill set to do it. She knew Cate had them, among her many talents. Hannah recalled Cate double majored in library science and computers, specializing in web security. Her life goal was to become a digital archivist for the Smithsonian. But when her mother, Myra Jordan was diagnosed with cancer, Cate settled in Twilight and took a job at the library.

  After finding their way to the cafeteria, the two settled, and both began their work. While waiting for Cate’s laptop to boot up, Hannah tried to listen in on the conversation at the next table. A group of nurses ate, chatted, and watched the news that was playing. The news story revolved around the incident at the studio, so the nurses’ discussion centered on it.

  Hannah turned back to Cate, who focused on the laptop. After a moment, Cate looked up and gave a single nod. Hannah knew this meant her companion had connected to the network and it was time to put a plan into action. A plan that would save them time and effort of going the hard route to the records.

  “Uh, did you get the passcode for the network?” Cate made the announcement in a loud enough voice for the nurses at the next table to overhear.

  Hannah shook her head. “I didn’t.”

  Cate turned to the nurses, “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt, but you wouldn’t happen to have the Wi-Fi pass code, would you?”

  A young nurse, perhaps in her late twenties Hannah calculated, spoke up. “I don’t think there is one. It’s an open system.”

  “Oh.” Cate began typing. She then frowned. “Darn it, something must be wrong with my computer.”

  The young nurse looked on curiously. “It still won’t let you on?”

  Cate mocked another attempt and shook her head. “No, I just need to check on my aunt. She’s in ICU.” She gave an imploring smile.

  A second nurse piped in. “You can always go to the nurses’ station.” Hannah surmised that she was not only older, but more experienced than the other nurse, given her voice tone and mannerisms.

  “Oh, no, not her.” Hannah gave an exaggerated nod toward Cate. “She’s got this thing about hospitals.”

  Cate looked sheepish. “It’s a phobia. A real problem. This is as far as I go unless I’m unconscious.”

  Hannah reached over and patted Cate’s hand. “I’ll check on her and you stay here.”

  The older nurse got up and stepped next to Hannah and Cate’s table. “They won’t give a non-family member much info, but, here, I can get you in if you like.”

  Cate gave a charming smile. “Thank you.”

  “Just be sure and sign out when you’re done.” The nurse smiled and stepped back to her group.

  Hannah gave Cate a capricious look. After a few seconds, she exclaimed, “Oh, here.” Cate turned to the nurses. “Everything looks good. Everything is going to be all right.”

  The nurses got up to leave, and the helpful one gave a friendly smile. “Good for you, honey. Hope everything turns out well.” Cate waved. “I’m sure it will.”

  Once they were out of sight, Hannah turned to Cate. “Well?”

  “You cannot rush great art. You must savor it… bingo!” Cate confirmed access as she scanned the electronic medical record. “Says here that he registered under his legal name, William Robert Barton. Admitted 8:24 p.m. from the emergency room. He complained of a headache, blurred vision, nausea, vomiting, vertigo, and agitation. Related that he had fallen down stairs in his condo earlier around 1:00 p.m. He struck his head, and a neighbor who heard the fall reported she found him unconscious, and remained so for about a minute. His symptoms progressed until he came to the hospital. The doctor recommended overnight observation.”

  Hannah frowned, disappointed the information was not what she had hoped for. “What about nurses’ reports?”

  Scanning down the page, Cate lifted one eyebrow. “Two for two. Says here that around 10:40, the nurse’s assistant checked in on him and he was missing from his room. A general search failed to find him. Around 11:50 p.m., he turned up in the waiting room in a delusional state. He told them he was waiting to see a doctor. They took him back to his room and restrained him for the night.”

  Cate looked up from the screen. “That’s an hour and ten minutes unaccounted for, more than enough time.”

  “He wouldn’t even need that. Ten minutes to and from. That leaves fifty minutes to do what he did.” Hannah swirled her tongue around the inside of her mouth for a bit as she tapped the top of the computer. “Can you get to the security reports for the night?”

  Cate began typing. “What are we looking for?”

  “Anything out of the ordinary not related to that.”

  After a moment, Cate grinned. “Gotcha.” She turned the computer around so Hannah could read.

  The sleuth’s eyes lit up as she read. “A stolen car.” She lifted her face to meet Cate. “Nailed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Several phone calls later, and an hour’s passage led everyone back to Louie’s once more. A recap of present evidence and suspicions led to a discussion of the burden of proof.

  “But is it enough?” Louie handed Hymn a mug.

  Hymn took the vessel and lifted it to Louie in thanks. He leaned back into his host’s couch. “Well
, no, to be honest, not by definition.”

  Hannah paced the floor pointing out the fact Xabiere had both motive and opportunity.

  “Now you sound like a dime store novel detective,” Hymn accused.

  Hannah showed clear signs of frustration. “He was missing from the hospital at the time.”

  “From the hospital. The same hospital where he was later found mumbling in the waiting room, claiming they wanted to admit him when he already was. And this…” Hymn added, pointing to the laptop, “says he did have an injury to the head. By the way, that’s inadmissible, just so you know.”

  Hannah glared at the officer. “A slight injury and I emphasize slight.”

  Hymn drew in a breath before choosing his words. “Look, I know he did it. You know he did it. We all know he did it, but prove it? No. You and I have a theory. We can show doubt, but that is all.”

  “And doubt doesn’t always convict,” Buster commented. He glanced over to Cate. “Uncle Wilson says that all the time.” Cate agreed.

  “We’ll have to get him to admit it somehow.”

  Buster blew out a breath as Cate responded, “Oh, dear.” Hymn, Louie, and Vera turned to the cousins with quizzical looks. “Drama time.”

  All eyes returned to Hannah for an explanation.

  In no time, Hannah laid out her plan. “The beauty of it is in its simplicity.” Though she insisted, she could already see the concern on Louie’s face.

  “Look, I want this bastard as much as anyone, but this plan…” He glanced over at Vera, who interrupted him.

  “Dad.” Vera took his hand. “I appreciate your concern, and I know you want to protect me, but I’m a grown woman. I’m doing this for Mom, for you, and for me. Even for Jazlyn.”

  “But…”

  “No buts. I love you and it’s going to be fine.” She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. Louie produced a small smile.

  “Dad. Mom. I like the sound of that.” He gave his daughter a hug. The room went silent except for the sound of Buster sniffling.