by Lynn Cahoon
“Rock stars are strange. Alice Cooper slept with his snake,” Matt added to the discussion as he started plating the salad course.
“That’s an urban myth,” Felicia challenged. Then she held up a hand. “Besides, Cliff is one of the most stable guys you’ll find in or outside the music business.”
Angie shook her head. “Even I’ve heard stories about the band. Postal Mutiny is thought to have broken up because of the arguments between Cliff and Dane.”
“That’s probably true. I know Cliff would have stood his ground, especially if he thought he was on the right side of the music.” Felicia glanced up at the clock. “If we’re going to be ready to serve at five thirty, don’t you think we should get busy?”
They were just completing the first course plating when a woman dressed in a blazer, white shirt, and pressed jeans stepped into the kitchen. Her long straight black hair was pulled back off her face, and she wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She held up her hands. “Sorry, guys, we’re going to have to push service back to six. Dane and Suzie just got back from skiing and need a few minutes to get ready.”
Angie groaned, on the inside. The salad would have to be remade, as there was no way it would hold for thirty minutes. “Are you sure?” She stepped to the woman. “I mean, we’ll have to remake the first course if we push it back. Will they be ready at six? Or will we have to push it again?”
“Look.” The woman looked at Angie’s chest, trying to find a nametag. When she didn’t find one, she sighed. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Angie Turner. Head chef of the County Seat. We were hired to prepare a dinner that started at five thirty by Cliff Henry. So who exactly are you?” Angie narrowed her eyes as she took in the woman, who had to be some sort of admin or secretary or personal assistant. The aura of positional power seeped out all around her.
Surprise filled the woman’s face. Angie wondered if anyone had ever talked back to her barking orders before.
She glanced at the clipboard before she answered. She put on a smile that was friendly and apologetic at the same time. “Sorry, I should have introduced myself before shouting orders. I apologize. I’m Carolyn Hughes, Mr. Pines’s personal assistant. I guess you could say I’m the band’s cat herder.”
Ignoring the joke and the attempt to win her over with what Carolyn must perceive as charm, Angie glanced at the clock. “You’re asking for the dinner to be pushed back to six? Will everyone be available to eat by then?”
“Yes. I’ll have everyone in the room so you can serve exactly at six.” Carolyn’s head bobbed as she saw a solution to her issue.
“Good. We’ll serve then. By the way, your serving staff will have to be available then for another hour, so please remember that when it’s time to pay the temp agency,” Angie reminded her.
“I don’t personally pay the bills, but I’ll send a note to the accounting department of the change of circumstances.” She looked around the room, paused her scan at Felicia, then nodded. “I better go round up the cats then.”
Angie stepped back to the counter and glanced at the plated salads Matt had already completed. “Let’s trash those and start over.”
“Will do, boss.” He glanced at the servers who were gathered in a corner of the kitchen. “Anyone hungry?”
The three women all came and grabbed a plate, as did Hope. Angie took two over to where Felicia was sitting and placed them on the table in front of her friend. “Was I too direct?”
Felicia laughed and picked up her fork. “No, and thank God for that. Carolyn’s notorious for switching plans at the last minute. I bet she had some menu changes on that clipboard that she’d intended to bring up, but with you crawling down her throat at the change of time, she thought better of pushing it.”
“Well, then, I guess I did my job. I hate catering, just for this reason. Remember the lady in San Francisco who changed her menu on the birthday meal for fifty, three times? The last time I had to tell her I was going to charge her three times what I’d quoted just for the changes.” Angie bit into the salad. She smiled, finished the bite, then called out. “Great dressing on this, Matt!”
“Thanks, boss.” Matt beamed at the compliment.
Felicia glanced at the clock. “All we have to do is get through the next four hours. Then they’ll be gone when we wake up tomorrow, and we can have our retreat.”
Angie nodded, but her first thought was that four hours was a very, very long time. She hoped Felicia’s prediction would be true and the time would fly by quickly. From the way the dinner had started, Angie didn’t believe they’d be that lucky.
Chapter 2
The shouting started during the meat course. Angie and her crew had just sent out thirty perfectly cooked beef Wellingtons to the dining room. They were starting to plate dessert when the raised voices came through the walls.
Matt walked over to the doorway and peeked through to the dining room. He turned back with a grin. “And so it starts. We’re witnessing history.”
“We’re witnessing two guys who can’t get along.” Felicia kept working on the dessert plating. “Cliff always complained about Dane’s attitude. He didn’t like Cliff’s ideas or the way the band was set up. Basically, Dane hates everything. It’s really hard to be around all of that negative energy day after day. There’s no way the band is going to be able to stay together after this album. All I can say is that someone must need the touring money really bad.”
Angie frowned at the door. “You think we’ll get our fee for this, right? Shutting down the restaurant for a week really cut into our estimated income. This catering gig was supposed to keep us in the black this year.”
“I made Carolyn write us a deposit check that covers our outlay and most of the staff time for the week. We’ll be fine. We overbilled this event because of the short notice and the fact they want us out here.” Felicia finished the last plate. “These look wonderful. I’m snapping a picture to use on our website.”
She pulled out her phone and took several pictures.
Matt frowned at her. “Why can you have your camera and not me?”
“Because I know what I’m taking pictures of. And I’d rather not police your actions while we’re here. You’ll get it back tomorrow as soon as they’re all out of here.” Felicia reviewed her shots, then slipped the phone back into her pocket.
Angie looked at the clock. The servers were still hanging around, and it had grown dark outside. “Why don’t you guys take off. It’s supposed to snow tonight, and I don’t want you to have to drive in bad road conditions. We can serve the last course.”
A tall older woman looked at her teammates. When they all nodded, she spoke. “That’s nice of you. I drove us up here, but it’s thirty minutes to where we met up and we all live in the next town over. We have another thirty minutes or so to get home.”
Angie frowned. “I thought they used a local temp service?”
“They did. Ketchum is where the office is located. The prices for rentals and houses are just too high for any of us with regular jobs to live here. Most of the ‘help’”—she grinned as she made air quotes around the word—“live in Haley or Belleview.”
“Even that’s getting pricy. My boyfriend lives in Picabo with his family and works at the lodge,” another woman added.
Felicia handed each woman a check. “I know that the temp service will pay you and they should tip, but we’d like to thank you for making our food look so amazing. Part of a great meal is great service.”
Their eyes lit up as they tucked the checks into their pockets. Again, the older woman addressed Angie. “Are you sure we can’t serve the last course?”
“Go home. Drive safe. We’ll be fine.” Angie nodded to the door. As the women left, Angie glanced at the clock. “We have ten minutes before we switch out the meat course with the dessert. Who’s got some cards? We could play a
hand or two?”
“I’m working on dishes. I love having a dishwasher, but it’s so slow compared to ours at the restaurant.” Hope turned from the sink where she was rinsing plates.
“Well, if not cards, who has an idea for tomorrow’s retreat? I’d like to cook at least two or three new dishes each day.” Angie slipped onto a chair at the table and opened her notebook. “I’m going to play with a mix of potato, turnip, and leek soup.”
Estebe sat next to her. “I wondered if we could make a sweet potato and russet soup. I think we’d have to puree the sweet potato to get it to the right texture.”
For the next ten minutes, they talked about potato soups. What they wanted to try, what they’d had good luck with. By the end, Angie had a list of five different versions on her page. “Then it’s settled. Our first cooking session tomorrow will be on potato soups. Make sure you bring all your creativity. We want this dish to be a collaboration of all of us.”
“Kind of like Stone Soup.” Estebe nodded.
Angie turned to him. “That’s a children’s book. Don’t tell me you read that as a child.”
He smiled, and crinkles around his eyes showed his humor. “I have lots of young nieces and nephews. I read a lot of bedtime stories.”
Angie stood and picked up three dishes. “Let’s do it this way. Hope, you follow Estebe out without desserts. You’ll pick up dirty plates, then we’ll drop. Hope will go to the kitchen, drop the dirty ones into the sink, wash her hands, then pick up desserts. We’ll run two rounds of this, and by the time Hope comes out with desserts the second time, we’ll be done.”
“Great plan.” Matt picked up three desserts, and Hope waited at the doorway to the dining room. When they were all inside, Hope froze. Carolyn was the only one still sitting at the table. The room, except for her, was empty.
Angie stepped around Hope. “What happened?”
“Hurricane Dane did his thing,” said Carolyn with a sigh. “Everyone who didn’t have to stay left as soon as they started fighting. It’s a typical Postal Mutiny dinner. Dane screams about some stupid thing. Cliff tries to placate him. Dane gets louder. I don’t know why Steve thought this would work again. They almost killed each other the last time.” She waved Estebe over with the desserts. “Bring a couple of those over here. I’m eating mine no matter what happened.”
Angie waved the rest of the group back into the kitchen and set the desserts she carried on the table. “Will anyone be back for dessert?”
“Maybe Bailey and Suzie once they get the guys settled. I’d leave about five dishes out just in case, but the rest can be thrown away. Just like this tour is going to be.” She stood and went to the serving station where there was a pot of coffee. She poured herself a cup. “I hate my job.”
When they’d finally got all the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, Felicia waved them over to the table where they’d set the dessert. “Everyone sit, and let’s eat a few of these. I’m not sure how well they’ll pack up, but I’m going to try. By the end of the week, they’ll be gone.”
Hope picked up her fork and took a bite. “They seem so happy on television. They slap each other on the back and joke around. Why are they like this?”
“Television isn’t real life.” Matt’s shoulders sagged. His hero worship of the band members had been tarnished a little as well. “I guess they’re just people like us.”
“All celebrities, politicians, and people with money are just that. People.” Felicia glanced at the group. “Just because some of us grew up in big houses doesn’t mean we don’t make mistakes or get our feelings hurt. We do, just like everyone else.”
“Well said, Felicia.” Estebe nodded. He pointed his fork at her. “And I’m more interested in the woman who made this amazing dessert than the woman who grew up with a silver spoon in her hand.”
“In her mouth,” Angie corrected.
Estebe frowned, confused. “I’m sorry? What’s in her mouth?”
“The silver spoon. That’s the saying.” When Estebe still looked confused, she waved it off. “Estebe’s right. Who we are now is much more important than where we grew up, right?”
Felicia sent her a grateful smile. But Angie’s warning bells were going off. She hoped her bad feeling was a false alarm and not about the fight tonight.
* * * *
The next morning, Angie was in the shower enjoying the multiple massage jets and seemingly unending hot water when she heard a knock at her door. She decided to ignore it and enjoy the shower for just a few more minutes. The knocking got harder, and she heard Felicia’s voice calling her name. Regretfully, she turned off the shower and wrapped herself in one of the cotton terry cloth robes that had been hung in her closet. She towel-dried her hair and finger-combed it before going to open the door.
Felicia stood in front of the door, shaking. She had her phone up to her ear. “Just get here as soon as possible. He’s unconscious.”
Angie froze. “Matt? Estebe? Who is hurt?”
Felicia shook her head. “We think it’s Dane. I’ve never met him, but he looks like the guy on the album cover, only older.”
“What happened?” Angie glanced down at the robe. There was no way she was going downstairs in this. She pulled Felicia inside and closed the door. “Tell me inside so I can get dressed.”
Angie grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom to dress. “I can hear you, so go ahead.”
“Okay, well, Estebe and I were the first ones up. We were in the kitchen talking about last night and how crazy everything was. Anyway, he was making coffee, so I went into the dining room to see what kind of mess we had to clean up, and he was sitting in a chair. I thought he was asleep, so I started cleaning up the dishes, and I saw it.”
“I must have missed something. You saw what?” Angie came out of the bathroom, pulling her shirt down and over her head.
Felicia shook her head. “He had a drumstick sticking out of his chest. His eyes were closed. When I reached out to touch him, he was warm and had a heartbeat. But there was so much blood.” She glanced out the window. Gentle snowflakes fell past it. “They need to get here quick or he won’t make it.”
“Where’s Estebe? Still in the kitchen?” Angie pulled on her tennis shoes and moved toward the door. “Let’s go back down and wait for the police.”
Felicia nodded. “I must have screamed, because Estebe came running. He’s with the guy now. He told me to call 9-1-1 and get you and the others down there.”
He wanted us all together where we could watch out for each other. Smart idea. Angie nodded. “You go get Hope up, I’ll wake up Matt.”
It took less than ten minutes to get everyone gathered up and downstairs. Both Matt and Hope were already awake when they knocked on their doors. Estebe motioned them to the side of the dining room by the doorway to the kitchen.
“Don’t come any closer. We don’t want to mess up the scene.” He made eye contact with Angie.
“Maybe we should go into the kitchen and wait.” Angie read Estebe’s unspoken message. Their group needed to stay together just in case whoever had done this to Dane was still around. “Let’s block open this door so we can hear Estebe. Felicia, do you want to sit there? Hope, get her a cup of coffee.”
As they moved into the kitchen, Angie went over and checked the lock on the back door. It was open, so she locked it. Then she saw the door to the front of the house. “Matt, can you move that highboy over in front of that door?”
Matt nodded and scooted the heavy piece of furniture over in front of the door, blocking the entrance. “This should keep anyone out, unless they have an automatic rifle.”
“Then we’ll all slip outside and hide in the woods until help comes.” Angie smiled at Matt’s surprised face. “Yep, I’m thinking ahead. Come get some coffee, and we’ll wait for the police, thinking more positive thoughts.”
Hope sat a
t the table, as far away from the blocked door as possible. She had her coffee cup in her shaking hands. Angie poured coffee, then grabbed muffins out of the cupboard and put them on a plate. “In case anyone’s hungry.”
“After seeing Dane, I don’t think I’ll eat for a week.” Felicia shook her head. “It is Dane, right?”
Angie just nodded, knowing what Felicia was thinking.
“There’s no way Cliff could have done this. You have to know that.” Felicia shook her head. “No way. You met him. He’s a sweet, sweet man.”
“Who was in a fight with the guy the night before. A fight that was so bad, most of the guests left last night so they didn’t have to hear it.” Matt sipped his coffee. “Look, I like the guy too, but someone hurt this guy really bad. And your friend had the motive.”
“It’s not our job to find out who hurt Dane. We’re here for a retreat, and as soon as these guys get out of the house today, we’re having one.” She made eye contact with Felicia. “As long as the police don’t ask us to leave the crime scene.”
“And if they do, we’ll just rent a condo. This retreat is going to happen. Come hell or high water.”
Hope glanced out the window. “I think it’s going to be frozen water that gets us. I was watching the news in my room, and they’re expecting a blizzard tonight.”
“They always overestimate the amount of snow we’re going to get.” Matt took a muffin and pushed the rest toward Hope. “Don’t worry about it. We have snowmobiles if we have to figure out a way out of here.”
“Unless someone tampered with them. That’s what the crazy killer does in all the movies. He takes out all the possible escape routes.” Hope took a muffin and unwrapped it with shaking hands.
“Stop freaking yourself out.” Angie rubbed her arms. “You’re supposed to be the overly positive one.”
Hope shrugged.
“Okay then, we just won’t talk about it.” Angie looked at her watch. If the servers from last night were right, it would take the police and ambulance about thirty minutes to get up here. With the snow storm, she didn’t think they’d be breaking any speeding records.
