Restaurant Weeks Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  Tim returned a weak smile. “Someone spray painted ‘killer’ all over Maxine’s last night.”

  “What!” My heart sank for him. I knew all too well just what that kind of attack felt like, vulnerable and violated. “Did you happen to see who did it?”

  He shook his head. “It was the middle of the night.”

  “Le Bon Gigi was hit too.” Gigi sniffled. Her eyes were red, and her face was splotchy. “We’re ruined.”

  “I think it’s too soon for that.” I tried to comfort them. “This whole thing could resolve itself before the week is over. We have to hold on to hope.” My eyes flicked up to the stands to Aunt Ginny. This sounded a lot like the same speech she had once given to me.

  Aunt Ginny grinned and gave me two thumbs-up.

  Tim put on his chef coat and started to button it. “I don’t see how, Mack. My dining room is as empty as my bank account. No one wants to eat in a restaurant where the chef might be a killer. I think the only thing that will help is for the cops to make an arrest. That’ll get everyone else off the hook, and the yoga-pants cartel picketing in front of Maxine’s can go back to playing Wizardville on their iPhones.”

  I can’t get involved. Not this time. “Is there any way to get a loan to get you over the hump while this works itself out?” I asked.

  “Naw. Maxine’s is upside down. I’m mortgaged to the hilt from rebuilding after Hurricane Sandy. If things get any worse, I’ll be living from handout to handout.”

  Oh God.

  “Poppy, is there anything you can do? You’ve been through this twice already yourself. Both times you were able to find out more than the cops could.”

  “I don’t know what I can do. I’m not a detective. I’ve got no business poking around where I don’t belong.”

  Tim’s face fell.

  Gigi wrapped her arms around his waist. “Maybe we could merge our restaurants together in a formal partnership. Le Bon Maxine.”

  His eyes popped wide for a second like he was surprised, but then he hugged her back. “That is so sweet, Geeg. But my failure isn’t your problem. I just need this whole mess to be over and to have our names cleared from the suspect list before we lose everything.”

  Gigi was offering a lot of support. Support that I suspected she wanted to come along with some gold bands and “I dos.”

  I saw the worry lines etched on Tim’s face and took a deep breath. I just can’t do nothing and let this happen. Tim was there for me when I needed him most. He’s walked into danger with me in the past. Well, danger of getting stripper glitter in his eyes, but still—it counts. “Look, I can’t promise I’ll get anywhere. I think the first two times were a fluke, but I’ll do some digging and see if I can find anything out that could help clear us.”

  Tim smiled up to his eyes and pulled me close to him. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear. And Mack, I’m so sorry about last night.”

  “I know. It’s okay.” I hugged him back and just happened to catch Gigi’s expression. Giiiirl, if the eyes are the mirror to the soul, I think I saw Satan’s reflection in Gigi’s baby blues.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A figure fast walked into the kitchen arena draped head to ankle in a dripping Hefty bag. I knew right away who it was because of the pink Birkenstocks peeking out from under the plastic.

  “Vidrine, are you okay?”

  “Am I inside yet?”

  I helped her pull the plastic bag off. “You’re in the arena. Is it raining?”

  Vidrine patted her braids. “No. That group of angry women is throwing water balloons. At least I hope it’s water. I was lucky to have a box of trash bags in the car. Is all that because of Bess?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Oooh, child. She must have been really popular around here.”

  Somehow, I doubt it. “Are you planning to ask Ivy to let you out of the competition?”

  “No, why?”

  “Oh, I just assumed.”

  “No way, girl. I’m in it to win it.” She shook out the plastic bag and folded it up. “Why? Everybody else want out?”

  “I wouldn’t say everyone.” I guess technically Tim didn’t say he wanted out. “Hey, while I’ve got you, Sawyer said she ran into you the other afternoon.”

  Vidrine’s eyes darted left to right like she was looking for a quick getaway.

  I put my hand on her shoulder to try to calm her. I saw Michael Landon do that to a horse on Little House on the Prairie once. It didn’t work as well on Vidrine.

  She called over her shoulder. “What?!” Then looked back at me. “I’m sorry. They want me to take my place now.”

  “No one said anything.”

  Vidrine dashed past me. On her way to her station, she stopped to whisper something to Hot Sauce Louie.

  He looked my way and gave me a chin up and a big smile.

  Hmm. What is that all about?

  Ivy tapped on a microphone to bring the room to attention. “Okay everyone. The Chamber of Commerce is breathing down my neck to clean this mess up. No one wants to put the nasty business with what happened yesterday behind us as much as I do. But, the show must go on. Now we’re missing a judge. The police don’t want us to mention anything about the murder to the one or two people in this town who haven’t heard about it yet, so we’re not going to address it. We’re just going to replace Bess with Ashlee and go on as if nothing happened.”

  A low hum began to crawl around the arena, discussing the poor taste in not giving at least a small tribute to the woman who sat in this room with us for three days of the event.

  Even Gigi muttered, “That seems kind of harsh.” And you can be sure Gigi was no fan of Bess’s.

  Ashlee took the now-vacant seat in between Horatio and Norman. Her opening remarks from her new position were, “Aww, how come I have to sit here and taste the poisoned food? Why can’t Tess do it?”

  Tess was being set up with the wireless microphone. “Sorry, chica. You know I’ll come show you some love at the judges’ chat.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll ignore me and steal all the air time.”

  Tess’s smile was devious. “Yeah, I will.”

  I made eye contact with Sawyer in the stands. She jabbed her finger toward Vidrine, who I saw was watching me, and who immediately looked away when our eyes met. Sawyer was doing some kind of crazy sign language that I understood to mean “corner Vidrine and ask her about the other day.” I returned a look to Sawyer that said, “I’m kinda busy right now.”

  “Welcome to day four of the Cape May Restaurant Week Challenge,” Tess opened for the camera. “Today’s theme is Mysteries of Asia. Ooooohh. I can’t wait to see what the secret ingredient is. Chefs, open your baskets.”

  I flipped the sides down and . . . well . . . I don’t know what the heck I’m looking at. It looks like a hard yellow squid, fish food, and pancake syrup. I do not have a good feeling about this.

  “And the dessert baskets have Buddha’s hand, agar-agar, and coconut syrup.”

  Ashlee cried out from the judges’ table, “Eewww.”

  Miss New Jersey was equally disgusted. “I’m not eating a hand. I don’t care whose it was.”

  “It’s a fruit.” Norman huffed. “It was on Chopped Tournament of Stars. Don’t you people like to expand your minds?”

  “You have one hour, Chefs. Go!”

  Everyone else ran for the pantry, but I was stuck at my station. How was I supposed to know what to make? I didn’t even know what my ingredients were. I snapped a yellow tentacle off the Buddha’s hand and sniffed. It was kind of lemony. I took a bite. Oh no. No. I spit it back out. Maybe I could use the peel in place of lemon rind. The coconut syrup was very sweet. That could easily be used in place of corn syrup. I held up the bag of clear fish flakes and examined them. I was in trouble with this one.

  Aunt Ginny turned to Mother Gibson and spoke very loudly while holding her cell phone at arm’s length. “I sure wish I had some agar-agar flakes at my house t
o make a common vegetarian substitute for gelatin.”

  Ivy grabbed the roving microphone. “Would the audience please refrain from helping the contestants.”

  I ran to the pantry while Aunt Ginny was overheard to say, “Oh my goodness, do you think anyone heard me speaking to my good friend Lila here. I certainly hope I wasn’t too loud, was I?”

  Mother Gibson snickered. “I barely heard you.”

  Gelatin, gelatin, gelatin, Oh! Vidrine, Vidrine, Vidrine. “Hey Vidrine. How’s it going?”

  Vidrine squealed and dodged around me.

  With my catlike reflexes I was able to do . . . absolutely nothing. In fact, I almost tripped myself. Vidrine got away before my brain could process that she was gone. I will talk to you before this day is over if I have to have Aunt Ginny hold you down to do it.

  I switched gears, temporarily, to my dessert. The only Asian desserts I knew about were fortune cookies and mochi, and I had no idea what mochi was. But I knew what I could do with gelatin. Thanks, Aunt Ginny. So I grabbed some milk and cream, and a couple of orchids from the flower case. I put six cute little oval plates in the refrigerator to chill and went about prepping my Buddha’s hand. Zest for the panna cotta and peel in the coconut syrup to candy for the topping. In a second saucepan, I started heating all my other ingredients. This might be the easiest dessert I’d ever made.

  Tess was making her way around the arena checking in on the chefs. “What are you making, Chef Philippe?”

  “Today we make Coquilles St. Confucius.”

  Horatio made a comment from the judges’ table that wasn’t caught on camera. “I’m seeing a pattern in your dishes, Philippe.”

  Philippe looked at Tess and waved the comment off.

  “And Chef Louie, what is that you’re working on?”

  “Hey dude, this here’s a ginger-scallop burger with tamarind mayonnaise.”

  “Talk about a pattern,” Ashlee muttered.

  “Team Oliva?”

  Gia and his mother conversed in Italian. “Chef Oliva is making seared sea scallops.” He held up the tamarind. “And this weird-bean risotto.”

  Vidrine called out across the arena, “Honey, that weird bean is a fruit, and it’s called tamarind.”

  Gia translated to Momma.

  Ashlee called from the judges’ table. “What are you making, Chef Giampaolo?”

  Gia grinned. “I am making shrimp cocktail, on a shaved bed of this thing.” He held up a radish.

  Momma said something to Gia.

  “Radish. On a bed of this radish, with some of these little black specs.”

  Momma spoke to Gia again.

  “Nigella seeds.” Gia turned and smiled at me.

  I laughed to myself, then went and grabbed six ramekins to ready for the panna cotta. I spied Vidrine heading into the pantry and ran in there after her. I caught her looking through the spices. “Why are you avoiding me?”

  Vidrine started bouncing in her Birkenstocks. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ’bout, chérie.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Sawyer said she saw you Sunday night after the event.”

  Vidrine wouldn’t look me in the eye. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Yes, she did. Ivy sent her up here to pick something up, and you were coming out of the kitchen. What were you doing? You can either tell me, or we can both go tell Ivy.”

  Vidrine rolled her eyes up to the right. “Um, oh, Sunday, right.” Vidrine drummed her fingers on the spice jars. “You know, I almost forgot about it.” She snapped her left hand. “I came back to pick up my knives.”

  “Your knives?”

  “You bet your granny’s fanny I did. I forgot to get them after the competition, you know? What with my bad reviews and all, I was traumatized, and I needed the knives for my dinner service at Slap Yo Mamma! Any true chef knows they are only as good as their knives.” Vidrine’s voice dripped with sweetness. “I just had to get them. You understand, don’t you? Please don’t tell Ivy. Us chefs have to stick together, but I don’t have to tell you that, honey. You’re one of us. Ooh, I gotta go fix us this messa scallops right quick, chér.”

  She grabbed four spices and took off for her station.

  I looked at the missing spice slots. I had this room pretty well memorized, and there was no way Vidrine was making something with cinnamon, fennel, paprika, and tarragon. Vidrine was up to something. One minute she was as nervous as a hound at the vet, and then, on a dime, she turned to sugar. What is she hiding?

  “Poppy!”

  Oh no, my cream! I ran back to my station and found my panna cotta mixture boiling over.

  Gigi was scowling. “Pay attention to your recipe, Poppy. We have too much riding on this to be fooling around.”

  I grabbed the pot and quickly took it off the heat. It was ruined. So much for my easy dessert. Now I would have to start over and with only thirty minutes left in the competition.

  I gathered all the ingredients as fast as I could and dumped them into a new saucepan. I put it back on the heat and whisked. I would not leave this one for a minute. I shook the other saucepan with the peel and syrup. It was looking nice and bubbly, so I dumped it out over a wire cooling rack on top of parchment. Vidrine was watching me again. With fifteen minutes left on the clock, I poured my Buddha’s hand-scented cream into the waiting ramekins and popped them in the blast chiller. I twisted my candied peel into little corkscrew shapes while I waited. And waited. And waited.

  It was strange that everyone had been asking to be released from the competition. Well, everyone except Vidrine. Vidrine was working calmly in her kitchen with her chefs without a care in the world. I bet it would be really convenient for her if everyone else dropped out. She’d win by default.

  Aunt Ginny hollered from the stands. “Shouldn’t you be doing something?”

  I shrugged and looked around. I went to get my waiting plates. Aaah! Who took my plates? I ran to the shelves where the dishes were stored. I looked in all the cabinets. There was nothing good. I looked behind soup tureens and inside casseroles to see if someone had hidden my dishes, but they were gone. All that was left were giant plates you could display an entire lobster on. This is gonna be a disaster. I rushed the plates back to my station and scraped the candied syrup from the parchment into a pastry bag.

  “I don’t know what that goo is,” Ashlee said, “but I don’t want it.”

  I piped what I hoped would look like elaborate scrollwork on my giant plates. I retrieved and dipped each ramekin in warm water and gently unmolded a citrusy panna cotta just off center of each plate.

  The audience began counting down. “Ten, nine, eight . . .”

  What!? My heart was racing.

  Gigi hovered over me. “Come on, Poppy, hurry up.”

  I topped each panna cotta with the candied Buddha’s hand corkscrews.

  “Three, two . . .”

  Using both hands, I put orchids next to each panna cotta, two and two.

  “Time’s up!”

  My hands flew in the air, and I sucked air into my lungs. Leave it to me to somehow take an entire hour to make a twelve-minute dessert.

  “I seriously can’t believe you pulled that off,” Tim said behind me. He ran his hand across my back. “You always do such nice work, Mack. You really have a gift.”

  Gigi studied my plates. “You didn’t get the garnish on numbers five and six in time.”

  “Those are extras.” Why was I defending myself to her? She would only look for something else to criticize.

  “Chefs, present your dishes to the judges. Chef Tim, why don’t you go first.”

  Ivy and Roger set the plates on the judging table. The judges shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  “Judges, today we’ve made for you, shrimp summer rolls with shredded daikon cabbage, dotted with nigella seeds. Tamarind scallops with coconut milk and Thai chilies over rice noodles. And lemony panna cotta with candied Buddha’s hand. Enjoy.”

  The jud
ges looked at each other, waiting for someone to go first. Norman shoved his summer roll into his mouth and took a large bite.

  Ashlee gasped. “I can’t believe you’re eating that after, you know.”

  “What?” Norman asked through a mouthful.

  Horatio took a very long time pretending to chew, even though he hadn’t actually put anything in his mouth.

  Ashlee took out her phone and did a photo shoot of her plates.

  Ivy yelled. “Ashlee, what are you doing?”

  “I’m posting my food on Instagram.”

  “Ashlee,” Ivy sang. “We’re recording now. I need you to taste Chef Tim’s food and give him a score. You too, Brandy. We all saw you drop your shrimp in your lap.”

  “It looks great,” Miss New Jersey said, “but, like, I don’t want to die over it.”

  “Why can’t we have something good?” Ashlee whined. “Like avocado toast? Or rainbow toast. Can we do a mermaid theme next? That would look so good on Instagram.”

  “Please focus so we can get through this.” Ivy clicked on her headset. “Roger, bring Miss New Jersey a napkin. Let’s go, people.”

  Norman was happily chewing, his confidence almost as odd as everyone else’s fears. “I love the summer roll. So fresh. And candying the Buddha’s hand on the panna cotta was definitely the way to go. Nice job, Team Maxine’s.”

  “Ummm,” Miss New Jersey started, “I like the use of cilantro in the little burrito.”

  “Summer roll,” Gigi said, quietly. “And there is no cilantro.”

  “Sooo, yeah,” Miss New Jersey concluded.

  Ivy pointed to Ashlee to go next.

  Tess stood at the judges’ table and taunted Ashlee. “Take a bite, chica! Take a bite!”

  Ashlee poked at the dessert. “This pudding tastes kinda gross. And what are these? Fruit roll ups?”

  Tim smiled at Ashlee. “Those are candied citrus peels. And your panna cotta is still perfectly round.”

  Ashlee narrowed her eyes at Tim. “I can tell by the smell. And I don’t like the goo all over the plate. I feel like this is what poison looks like.”

  Ivy blew her breath out. “We’ll cut that in post.” She clicked on her headset again. “Roger? I need you to get in here.”