Restaurant Weeks Are Murder

by Libby Klein

  “I didn’t use any peanuts!” Adrian answered defensively. “It had to be someone else. I don’t even know that girl.”

  I held my hands up to protect my face. “Okay, okay. I’m not the enemy.” I mean, I kind of am with Tim and all. I’m more enemy adjacent.

  He let his breath out long and low.

  “Who were you talking to just now?”

  Adrian threw me a glare. “You betta just forget about that.” He blew past me and stormed down the hall.

  Hmm. No way was that his mother he was talking to. I bet Mother is code for loan shark. It doesn’t sound like Adrian is as successful as he wants everyone to believe.

  I went back to my search for Philippe. Maybe he was in the men’s room. I squeezed my voice high and called into the restroom. “Housekeeping.” Housekeeping, Poppy? Are you insane? “I mean, cleaning lady. Is the room empty?” Nothing. Maybe I’d missed him, and he was back in the kitchen. I returned, hiking down the long, quiet hall.

  Gia was sitting in the director’s chair, relaxed and calm. “Ahh, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “You were?”

  He gave me a mischievous smile. “How are you?”

  “Peachy.”

  “I know that look. What are you up to?”

  I flopped down in the chair next to him. “Looking for Philippe.”

  “I think he’s been released to go home.”

  “Aww, man.”

  “The officer is starting to let people go after they’ve given their statements. She sent Aunt Ginny and her friends home thirty minutes ago when they started chanting ‘Commie pigs! Commie pigs!’”

  “How Aunt Ginny isn’t arrested once a month is beyond me.”

  “I think she could give Momma a run for her money.” Gia tipped his chin to where two officers were guarding Momma. One of them had a Taser at the ready.

  The room was thinning. “Have you seen Hot Sauce Louie? I just found out he used to have a restaurant at the point years ago that was shut down because of Horatio’s reviews.”

  “He’s in the pantry making out with Vidrine.”

  “What!”

  “Yeah, I caught them when I was putting away the tartuffo honey.”

  “So, Louie and Vidrine are an item?”

  “I get the feeling they don’t want anyone to know about it, because they were real cagey when they realized I’d spotted them.”

  “Oh my God, I almost forgot all about Vidrine. She lied to me about why she was sneaking around up here the other night. Whatever she’s up to, I know they’re in it together.”

  “They’re definitely up to more than just competing.” Gia tipped his head down and gave me a look.

  Amber blew a long blast on her police whistle. “Okay, people. You can go for now. The food will be tested, but the CSI team didn’t find any traces of peanuts except in the basement vending machines. And no one from the kitchen has been down there today according to security cameras. You are all free to go for now, but don’t leave town. This is an active investigation.”

  I stood and stretched. I was glad to be leaving. I’d have to try and jump—I mean—have a polite talk with, Philippe, Louie, and Vidrine tomorrow.

  “And one more thing before you take off. The autopsy report came back this morning. The levels of toxicity in Bess Jodice’s blood, along with her reported behavior, would suggest that she was poisoned three days before she died.”

  If Bess was poisoned at the beginning of Restaurant Week, before she’d given any reviews, where was the motive to kill her? Horatio had to have been the original target. I wondered how he would react when he found out.

  Gia put a warm hand on my back. “Why don’t you come to the coffee shop? I miss you.”

  “Won’t I be a distraction while you work?”

  “I’m closed for the week, but I’ll open for us to spend time together.”

  I felt a flutter of nerves at the back of my neck. Gia wanted to spend time with me, but after this week, I felt like I’d be cheating on Tim. Working as Tim’s pastry chef had brought up memories and emotions from when we were engaged. Except for, you know, Gigi being here and bodies dropping left and right. That was putting me right off the mood. I looked in Gia’s eyes. Everything was so much easier with Gia. But hearing Tim call me his pastry chef sent chills down my spine.

  I’d dreamed of this day for twenty years. This was the life I was meant to have before it all went wrong. Before I let myself be bullied into the business track at William and Mary instead of pursuing my dreams of culinary school. Of course, I had only myself and peach schnapps to blame for the one-night stand that had knocked me up. One frat party was all it took to break off my engagement to Tim and set up my shotgun wedding to John.

  John. If only he could see me now. He’d given me a good life with a lot of love, but he knew what my immaturity had cost me. I wonder what he would think about my second chance with Tim now?

  I scanned the room for Tim. He was talking to Miss New Jersey, and she was seductively rubbing his shoulder. Gigi was glued to his other side. Gigi caught my eye and quickly linked arms with Tim. He patted her on the hand.

  But then, I’m not one for drama. “I’d love to come over. What time?”

  Gia grinned. “Time? Let’s go now. Momma’s pastry chef can take her home.”

  “Are you driving?” I tried to hide the nerves in my voice. The last time Gia drove me somewhere, my life flashed before my eyes. It was going almost a hundred miles an hour, so it was a quick flash.

  “Si, I’ll take us in the Spider.”

  Deep breaths, Poppy. “Okay, let me check with Amber, and I’ll get my things.” And maybe ask around for a Xanax.

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I was heading to the lockers when a flash of pink disappearing into the ladies’ room caught my eye. Vidrine! No one was around so I jumped in after her.

  She had veered off to where the lockers were lined up, and was gathering her belongings to presumably go home for the day.

  “Hey, Vidrine.” I leaned against the locker next to hers.

  She jumped a mile and knocked the door back with a slam. “Aah! Poppy! Ah. . . . Hey, girl . . . whachu up to?”

  “Don’t ‘hey girl’ me. You lied to me!”

  “Whaaa?”

  “You said you were only here after hours to get your knives for Sunday dinner. I heard your interview with Tess. You aren’t even opened for Sunday dinner. You only do brunch.”

  Vidrine’s eye darted left then right. Her face flushed, and she jabbed at my chest. “You know what, chér, you better just mind your own business.”

  I took a step backwards and put my hand over my heart. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ve been putting my nose in your business about this for too long, and I’m gonna stop right now.”

  Vidrine’s face softened, but she was still leery.

  “What I’m gonna do instead, is call my good friend Amber in here.” Good friend—Jesus please don’t strike me dead for that whopper. “And I’ll let her know just what’s going on. She’s that blond cop in the other room. This is her business.” I started walking for the door.

  “Wait. Why is this the cop’s business?”

  “I think she would want to know that in the midst of a murder investigation, and an attack investigation, that someone found you sneaking around the very pantry, doing God knows what, to the very ingredients that are under said investigation.” I waved my hand like it wasn’t a big deal or anything. “What am I saying? I’ll just let her explain it to you, and I’ll go home and put my feet up. Stay here.” I had my hand on the door handle and started to yank.

  “Alright, stop.”

  “I’m sorry? Did you say something?”

  Vidrine’s face fell, and she lowered herself onto the locker room bench. “Look, I didn’t do anything that hurt Bess or Ashlee.”

  “Then why were you really here last Sund
ay skulking around in the pantry? Were you messing with the ingredients?”

  “No! Look, it’s not what you think. I didn’t sabotage anyone. I didn’t hurt anyone.”

  “Then what?”

  “I was scared witless about the competition. Bess fried me like an egg on the first two days. Said I had a lack of proper trainin’. What’d she expect? I was sabotaged! Well, goin’ into day three, I was in last place, and that was behind Adrian, even after he told the judges that they had less taste than Miley Cyrus and got himself a couple of zeros. So, I hid in the locker room until everyone was good’n gone. Then I searched the kitchen and pantry to find out the next mystery ingredients, so I could be ready.”

  “So, you cheated?”

  Vidrine picked at her chef coat. “For a good cause, honey. Chefs like you and me and Louie, even that angry Italian woman, we aren’t getting a fair shake here. It’s your sous chef who keeps pointing out that we all don’t have the same trainin’ or experience the others have. Bess only respected the chefs who she thought had fancy educations. How is that fair to us who are self-taught? I worked hard to get where I am. Should I be punished for my lack of eighty grand to attend the Culinary Institute of America?”

  “I understand where you’re coming from. Believe me, I do. I have Gigi whispering in my ear every day that I’m not good enough because I didn’t graduate with her or Tim. But what you did isn’t fair to the other chefs either. You and Louie clearly got a heads-up about what was in those baskets, because you were done today way before everyone else.”

  Vidrine took a step toward me, pleading in her chocolate eyes. “Please don’t rat me out. I only found out two of the days, and Bess died on one and Ashlee was poisoned on the other. My food wasn’t even tasted. Not that it would have mattered a lick. Bess hated everything I made. I was never so glad to see her swapped out.” Her hand flew up to cover her face. “Not that I killed her or anythin’. I was just glad to get her off my back, you know?”

  On the other side of the divider, a toilet flushed. Vidrine and I froze in horror.

  A Japanese student came out of the stall, looked from me to Vidrine, awkwardly washed—and slowly dried—her hands. Threw away her paper towel. Then looked from Vidrine back to me and left the room.

  Vidrine grabbed my wrist and begged me. “Please don’t tell your friend.”

  “Tell who?”

  “The cop.”

  “Oh right! Right. Amber. Well, if you want my silence you have to tell me something else. What is up with you and Hot Sauce Louie? My friend saw you two in the pantry.”

  Vidrine’s face glowed a rosy mahogany and her eyes nearly popped out and rolled around the locker room floor. “No, he didn’t, he didn’t see anything.” She grabbed her bag and flew out the door.

  I never said it was a he.

  As she ran away, the sound of her pink Birkenstocks speed squeaked down the hall like a toddler with a new whistle.

  I would have expected that reaction over the whole unethical cheating revelation more than the making out with Louie question. Hm.

  I grabbed my things and made my way back to the kitchen arena to meet up with Gia and head out to the car.

  “I thought you got lost.”

  “No, but I finally got a confession. I’ll tell you about it on the way home. It’ll distract me.”

  “Distract you from what?”

  From the impending Grand Prix ride. “Oh look, the angry mob has tomatoes.”

  Gia took my hand and led me through the protesters into the early evening, as the sun was getting low in the sky and the temperature was dropping for the night. A chill wind was starting to blow, and I wrapped my coat tighter around me. The activists did not have time to pelt us with tomatoes because they had to rush off to pick up their kids from soccer practice. Gia’s Spider had not been so lucky.

  “Oh, mio Dio! Mia macchina!” Gia threw his hands up in the air and started waving them around. “Chiama la polizia!”

  The soccer moms started packing faster.

  Gia dropped down to his knees on the tarmac and mourned his ruined paint job.

  I was speechless. His car was in my possession for five days, and now it would need a two-thousand-dollar trip to Maaco.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  We drove home mostly in silence. I say mostly, because I was silent. Gia muttered angrily in Italian the entire length of the Parkway, his hands flying around like he was having a conversation. That was after we went through the automatic carwash, twice. One of Amber’s officers had come out and taken the police report for him to submit to the insurance company. The three protesters who hadn’t moved fast enough denied throwing the tomatoes—apparently, the tomatoes had flung themselves out of their bags and into the parking lot—and now the group had lost their permit to assemble. I saw this as a silver lining. But then I wasn’t the one with acid burns on their prized Italian sports car.

  Gia parked in the alley behind La Dolce Vita.

  Oh man. He’s even making me walk home. He must be furious. I’d had the long drive to think of a dozen different ways he could possibly tell me it was over. Our business relationship, his interest in me, our friendship. I promised myself I would wait until I was alone to cry.

  I got out of the car and shut the door. “You know I’ll pay . . .”

  He cut me off by pulling me into his arms and holding me so tight, that for a minute I wasn’t sure what was happening.

  “Bella, can you please forgive me?”

  “Forgive you for what?”

  “For being so angry that I didn’t talk to you all the way home.”

  I was definitely taken aback. “I’m just so sorry that this happened. I should have parked farther away from them.”

  His eyebrows dropped together for a moment. “Oh, Bella, if I made you think for one second that I held you responsible.” He shook his head. “I am so sorry. It was not your fault. It was those horrible protesters.”

  “I still feel responsible. At least let me pay the deductible.”

  “You will not! I don’t care about the car. I care only about hurting you. Please, you will break my heart if you are still upset.” Gia clutched his chest for effect.

  I chuckled. Talk about dramatic. “I forgive you.”

  His face broke into a smile and he pulled me into a kiss. “Thank you, Bella.” Then he kissed me again. He kissed me all the way up against the door and kept kissing me while he unlocked it and threw it open. Kissing me inside, he threw his foot against the door and slammed it shut, threw his keys on the counter, and spun me over to the other side of the kitchen against the walk-in refrigerator, all the while never breaking contact. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it outside my head. Thump-thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump. Gia unbuttoned my coat and threw it over a chair. Thump-thump-thump. He rubbed his hands over my back and pulled me even closer to him.

  BANG-BANG-BANG.

  We froze. “Is that my heart?” I gasped out through ragged breath.

  Gia shook his head and went back to what he was doing.

  BANG-BANG-BANG.

  “There it is again.”

  “We know you’re in there. Come let us in, it’s cold out here.”

  “Oh my God, is that Aunt Ginny?”

  Gia looked into my eyes, his disappointment evident.

  “Poppy! Let us in.”

  Gia shook his head. “And she is not alone.”

  He slowly walked to the front of the café, turning on lights as he did. He unlocked the door and let in not one, but six senior citizens.

  Aunt Ginny had brought the whole gang. “Did you know your front door is locked?”

  “Si, because I am closed.”

  Aunt Ginny took off her coat. “Oh good, then no one will bother us.”

  Mr. Sheinberg followed her in and shook hands with Gia. “We followed you home down the Parkway, Mario Andretti. Somebody’s got a lead foot.”

  Mrs. Sheinberg smacked her husband on the arm. “Well you k
ept pace with him the whole way, didn’t ya.”

  “I had to.” Mr. Sheinberg took off his coat and cap. “Ginny said to follow that car.”

  Aunt Ginny marched around like she owned the place. “What took you so long? We’ve been out front for ten minutes. We were freezing our assets off.” Then she looked at me. “Why is your mouth so red?”

  Mrs. Dodson’s eyes got really big, and she jabbed Aunt Ginny in the side. “I think we’re interrupting something, Ginny.”

  Understanding dawned in Aunt Ginny’s eyes. “Oh, you want us to go?”

  Gia put on the bravest face he could. “No, of course not. Please, everyone come in and make yourselves at home.”

  Oh no. “You’ll regret that,” I whispered.

  Gia chuckled. “In Italy we say, ‘Se mi ami, tu amo la mia famiglia.’”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Love me, love my family.” He gave me a quick kiss and headed to the espresso bar to make coffee.

  Love?

  I entered the dining room dazed, like I was walking up in the clouds or under water. What just happened? It wasn’t a declaration, just a saying. Like teach a man to fish, or don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

  “Poppy honey, are you listening to me?” Mrs. Dodson was staring at me, tapping her cane on my foot to get my attention.

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said, did you hear the news?”

  “No, what news?”

  Mrs. Davis fluttered her hands. “It was all over Channel Eight. The morning show is in trouble. Now that Ashlee is gone, Tess is pushing for a replacement.”

  I was horrified. Gone? “Ashlee died?”

  Mrs. Davis looked at me like I was crazy. “Died? No! She’s just staying in the hospital overnight.”

  “Okay, now I’m confused. Tess is pushing for a Restaurant Week replacement while Ashlee is in the hospital overnight?”

  “No.” Mrs. Dodson shook her head at my denseness. “She is pushing for a permanent replacement because Ashlee is in the hospital overnight.”

  “Isn’t that a bit extreme?”

  Aunt Ginny shrugged. “Millennials.”