Steamed

by Conan-Park, Jessica

  Josh stood a few feet away from Madeline, his forehead covered in sweat, a large cast-iron sauté pan raised above his head. Madeline was backed into a corner of the room. She look petrified.

  “What the hell is going on here?” Tim demanded.

  TWENTY

  MY heart broke as I stared at Josh, who stood poised with the heavy cast-iron pan, ready to attack the terrified Madeline. I’d been wrong about Brian. It was Josh who had killed Eric.

  “Josh,” Tim ordered, “drop the pan and move away from Maddie. Now!”

  Frozen with a look of utter confusion on his face, Josh stared numbly at Tim and me. “Hey, guys. What are you two doing here?”

  With no warning, Tim lunged at Josh and, with a mock-Samurai howl, collided with him so fiercely that he and Josh crashed to the floor.

  “Tim, what in God’s name are you doing? Have you lost your mind?” Madeline rushed over to her ex-husband and her chef, who were now tangled in a heap. “Good Lord, get off him!” She pulled Tim’s shoulders and managed to haul him off Josh.

  Bewildered and relieved, I had no idea what was going on but realized that Madeline had not been the intended victim of an assault. I went over to a stunned Josh and helped him to sit up. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Pissed off ”—he glared at Tim—“but fine.”

  The ex-spouses were now facing off. Madeline went first. “Could you please explain what the hell you were doing hurling yourself at my chef?”

  “Protecting you! I walk in here, and he’s about to bash you over the head with that pan.” Tim defended himself.

  Madeline rolled her eyes and snorted in disgust. “Rats. We have rats.”

  “Oh,” Tim said sheepishly.

  “You know how I hate those filthy creatures! And I just saw two of them running toward me when you walked in here and jumped on Josh like some sort of kung fu asshole.” She bent over, grabbed the pan that had fallen to the floor, and waved it at Tim. “He just happened to have this sauté pan in his hand, and he started yelling at the little vermin. What the hell is wrong with you!”

  “Well, what about the mess in here?” Tim asked.

  I hadn’t noticed when we’d first walked in, but there were pans everywhere, stainless-steel bowls on the floor, cooking utensils scattered around. I looked at Josh, who admitted, “It’s my fault. I was pissed off about the health code violations we were cited for and everything else going on, and I just started throwing crap around. That must’ve been what scared the rats out from hiding. I was ready to fling a pan at one of them when you walked in.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Probably not the best way to exterminate, but I was going to give it a shot,” he said grumpily.

  So, the stories about Josh’s bad temper were more than unfounded gossip.

  “Josh,” Madeline said firmly, “I told you that the problems in the kitchen are not your fault. You have got to calm down. I hate rats more than anyone, but I’m not blaming you. You are a phenomenal chef, okay? So relax.”

  “If I’m such a phenomenal chef, why did you tell Brian he was getting my job? Can you explain that to me?”

  I had no idea why Josh had picked this moment to make good on his promise to me to have an open and honest talk with Madeline. His timing was dreadful; everyone was too heated to have a rational discussion about anything.

  Maddie looked taken aback by Josh’s words, but I couldn’t tell whether she was surprised at his knowledge of her plan or shocked at the lunacy of such a possibility.

  But Tim wasn’t done with his ex. “Speaking of explanations, why did you send Ian over to Essence? I just found out that you knew he’d been stealing from us at Magellan. And you recommended him to me anyway. What have I ever done to deserve this kind of treatment from you?” Poor Tim looked sad and confused.

  More interested in Josh’s question, I spoke up. “Madeline, what about what Josh just asked you? Are you really going to make Brian the executive chef?” As a good clinician should, I was trying to refocus the discussion on the relevant issues and help the group make sense of a convoluted situation. Mainly, I was on Josh’s side and didn’t want him to get fired.

  Maddie looked directly at Josh. “Why would I ever fire you, Josh? You’re one of the best chefs in Boston. I’m not about to lose you. Why would you even think that?”

  From the doorway came a new voice, a loud and angry one. “Because that’s what you told me.”

  Josh, Madeline, Tim, and I all turned to see an enraged Brian facing us. In cold, menacing tones, he said, “You told me the job was mine.”

  Madeline took a few steps toward Brian and spoke vehemently, “Brian, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m beginning to think that you’re the cause of all the accidents and the health code violations here. You left those dead mice. And all the rest. Is that right?”

  “This is Josh’s kitchen,” said Brian, sounding like one child blaming another, “and anything that happens here is because of him. But you know what? It’s time for things to change. You told me you were going to get rid of Josh and make me the executive chef.”

  “Josh, you can come work for me!” Tim sounded overjoyed at what he probably saw as the salvation of Essence.

  Maddie spun around and glowered at Tim. “So now you’re going to steal my chef, too? First you leave me, then you open Essence, which is almost an exact duplicate of Magellan, and now you want my chef, too?” Seething, Madeline walked slowly toward Tim and spoke deliberately. “You want the best chef in the city? Too bad. You had him. And you gave him up and left, all because of your little blonde whore.” She snickered. “And you wonder why I sent you Ian? You are so stupid! You didn’t begin to guess.”

  Tim backed into a corner and practically shriveled up.

  Brian, however, was still preoccupied with his boss’s false promises. His face showed shock, but his voice revealed rage. “The best chef in the city? What about me?” Brian screamed. “What about ME!”

  “Brian,” I said gently, “I think Madeline lied to you.”

  Brian looked at me for the first time. “Did you follow me here, Chloe?” he demanded furiously.

  I took a step back to position myself close to Josh. “No, I didn’t follow you, Brian. I came here to warn Josh about you.”

  “Warn me about Brian?” Josh asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

  “He works at Home Depot. In the paint section. Where he uses neon orange spray paint to label cans of paint. Probably the same paint found near Eric’s body,” I stammered out. I started to shake. “And the knife,” I continued, “the two of you sharpen your knives differently, and—”

  “Shut up, Chloe!” Brian shouted. “Shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about! Everything that’s gone wrong is Madeline’s fault!” He turned back to Madeline, his eyes full of tears and fury. “You bitch! I did everything you asked me to. Everything! You promised me!” With speed and agility surprising in someone so clumsy, Brian reached to his right and grabbed a lethal-looking knife from the counter. It was six or eight inches long and had a thin, narrow blade. I had a vague recollection that it was meant for skinning or perhaps for boning fish. “You promised me!” He held the knife out in front of him, his hand surprisingly steady.

  Uninterested in heroism, I backed up yet more and bumped into something. Turning my head, I saw that I was resting against the rim of the gigantic stainless-steel restaurant sink, which had mammoth draining racks and an oversized sprayer. When I looked forward, Brian was moving in on Madeline, his arm raised, the knife heading toward her throat.

  Then, with no warning, Josh rushed at Brian.

  In terror, I turned rapidly around, grabbed the industrial-strength water sprayer from the sink, aimed, and squeezed its trigger. Before Josh could take another step toward the shining blade in his sous chef ’s hand, a massive, powerful jet of water caught him in the back of the head, knocked him off balance, and saved him from the knife-wielding Brian. Soaked in cold water, Josh yelped in
surprise.

  With superb presence of mind, Madeline, who’d continued to hold the cast-iron pan in both hands, raised it high in the air, moved toward Brian, took an audible breath, and smashed the pan down hard on the crown of Brian’s head. Twice. He fell to the floor, and Madeline raised the pan yet again and was about to deliver a final blow when Tim grabbed her by the waist and pulled her away.

  “Jesus Christ. Okay, Maddie. He’s down. It’s over.”

  Josh got up and rushed over to Brian, who was curled up on the floor and clutching his head in agony. It was hard to believe that he was still conscious.

  “Oh my God. Brian.” Josh leaned over him.

  Brian managed to open his eyes and to speak softly and hoarsely. “I’m so sorry, Josh.” Brian began sobbing. “You know I didn’t take your knife, right? I know better. No one touches your knives, like you always say. I wouldn’t do that, Josh. I’d never do that if you said not to.”

  With gruff affection, Josh replied, “I know you wouldn’t. So who did?”

  “Maddie. She gave it to me.”

  “No!” screamed Maddie, who was still in Tim’s grip. “I didn’t do anything. It was Brian! He did it! He killed Eric!”

  Brian shook his head a little. I had to strain to hear him. “She said she’d make me executive chef. She said she’d give me your job. That’s all I wanted, Josh. I just wanted to be like you. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble, Josh. With the health code stuff, you know? But I figured you’d be okay, right? And I didn’t mean for you to get hurt by the fire or the knife I put in the drawer. I just wanted to get you out of the kitchen for a while so I could have my chance.” He looked up at me. “Chloe, you’re right about everything. About the paint, about . . . She said she had to destroy Essence.”

  I had to ask. “Did you sharpen the knife before you killed Eric?”

  “Yeah,” Brian nodded. “And then, that night, when Maddie told me to, I just snuck over to Essence. No one even paid any attention to me. Ever. No one ever even noticed me.” Brian passed out.

  Josh pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. I saw him dial 911.

  “Josh,” I said, “remember you told me Maddie kept calling Tim that night to check on how things were going with Eric? She was waiting to see if there was an opportunity to send Brian over to kill Eric.”

  Madeline began ranting. Brian was delusional, she claimed. He had a concussion and was delirious. He was imagining things! Who could believe—

  “Madeline, shut up!” Josh snapped before telling the 911 operator to send an ambulance and the police to Magellan and giving the restaurant’s address.

  I guessed that it would take the paramedics and police at least ten minutes to show up. I was wrong. In no time, Detective Hurley came bursting in through the back door. “Chloe, I told you to go home. You’re not on the payroll, you know,” he huffed. Looming over the unconscious Brian, he said, “Forensics is running a check on the knife as we speak. What happened here?”

  I sighed. “Brian isn’t the only person in major trouble here.”

  The detective looked to Josh.

  “No,” I said, “not Josh. Madeline.” I gestured behind me. “She convinced Brian to murder Eric. She promised to make him her executive chef. Her divorce from Tim wasn’t the amicable parting of ways everyone thought. She hated Tim. She wanted to see him suffer. She wanted Essence to fail. Getting Brian to murder Eric guaranteed that he wouldn’t put money into the restaurant, and at the same time, it tarnished Essence’s reputation. Brian admitted it before he passed out.”

  “Where’d she go?” he asked.

  I looked toward the spot where Tim and Maddie had been standing. They had disappeared.

  TWENTY-ONE

  AT eleven o’clock the next morning, I snuggled up to Josh and kissed him awake. “Hi, sleepy,” I murmured.

  “Hey, babe.” Josh gave a stretch and growl of contentment. “Finally,” he sighed.

  “I know. I was starting to doubt whether we’d ever—”

  “Oh, but we did,” he cut in. “And it was goood!” He laughed. To prove his point, he moved on top of me.

  When we finally emerged from the bedroom, I went to the kitchen and opened the new coffeemaker Josh had bought for me. When Detective Hurley had finally finished questioning us on the previous day, we’d left Magellan and both gotten into Josh’s Xterra. I’d been too shaky to drive and had yet again left my car illegally parked.

  “We’re going to get you a new coffeepot,” Josh had announced. “And then I’m taking you home, making love to you all night, and waking up to—what will it be? An improved cup of coffee. Among other things.”

  In fact, we decided to spend the entire day making coffee. So to speak. And other things. I called in sick to my field placement. I’d eventually have to return to Naomi and her miniature office, where I’d be drowned in syrupy hugs and forced to participate in hand-holding that I couldn’t face yet. As it turned out, Josh, on the other hand, didn’t even have a job to go to.

  Here’s why. When Tim and Madeline disappeared from Magellan, they didn’t flee to some exotic country or do anything else juicy and dramatic. Rather, the police found them together at Essence. In spite of everything Tim had just seen and heard, he refused to believe that Madeline had participated in arranging Eric’s murder. As Josh and I learned when Tim called on Wednesday, he was so outraged at the accusation against dear Maddie that he had hired the best criminal defense lawyer in Boston to represent her. Tim’s loyalty to his ex-wife failed, however, to stop him from begging Josh to come to work for him at Essence. On Thursday, when he again called to try to steal Madeline’s chef, we learned just how good the lawyer was: Madeline wasn’t even in custody. As Tim pointed out, it was Brian’s word against hers. Despite Brian’s injuries, he actually was capable of speech, or so Tim reported. Unlike Madeline, he was, however, in no financial position to hire a lawyer and was consequently in the hands of a court-appointed defense attorney. What’s more, the evidence against him was and remains strong. He’ll probably go to prison and, specifically, to a prison kitchen. At least he’ll have a chance to keep cooking, and the other inmates will no doubt notice a remarkable improvement in the food.

  On Friday, Tim quit trying to lure Josh to work at Essence, which he had finally decided to close. To my astonishment, he informed us that he was rejoining Madeline at Magellan. I assume that Madeline was taking back her ex as a ploy to convince everyone of her innocence. In any case, the newly reunited couple, angry at Josh’s continued insistence on Madeline’s guilt, immediately fired Josh.

  Madeline, with her usual spin-doctor charm, used all of her media contacts to play the story in her favor. She skillfully presented herself as a superlative restaurant owner who gave a troubled young sous chef a chance to work in a top restaurant. Unfortunately, the young man was more disturbed than she’d known and had gone to extreme lengths to climb the culinary ladder. In her version of the story, Brian was furious at her for not promoting him and killed Eric in an attempt to frame her. Oh, please. Tim was welcome to her. When asked why her executive chef was leaving, Madeline insisted that it was a mutual parting of ways and that she wished Josh Driscoll the best. Bitch. As it turns out, Madeline was far from the generous, giving, supportive ex-wife everyone thought she was. So much for my personality assessment skills. I’d have to read up on pathological lying, among other things. God, wait until I got back to Group Therapy; my classmates would have a field day with me.

  That weekend, as Josh was cooking another phenomenal dinner for me, I asked him what would happen to all the staff from Essence. Cassie and Katrina? Joelle? Garrett and his kitchen staff?

  “See? That’s why you’re in social work school. God, I haven’t even thought about those guys.” Josh shook a hot skillet full of squash, mushrooms, and red peppers. “I’m not sure. They’re all great. Some of them might go back to Magellan, but I definitely know that Garrett’s out of a job. Tim’s blaming him, among other people, for Essence d
oing so badly. I’m sure I’ll run into some of them again. Boston is not that big a town. Every time I go out to eat I see someone I know working there. Anywhere.” He smiled at me. “They’ll be okay, don’t worry.”

  “And what about you? Do you have any leads on another job yet?” I knew Josh was miserable about losing the best cooking gig he’d ever had. And for having had so much faith in Madeline.

  “No. I’ve got some calls in to friends around town, but there aren’t that many good chef jobs out there. There’s some crappy stuff, you know, working in corporate cafeterias, universities, all that stuff. Those have good benefits, at least.”

  Oh, no. The thought of Josh’s talent going to waste in a college dining hall made me sick to my stomach. “No, Josh. You are not taking a job like that. There’s got to be something else.”

  “We’ll see,” he said with obvious doubt in his voice. “I’ve got a headhunter to call, too. He might have something.”