Book Retreat Mystery 07 - Murder in the Cookbook Nook

by Ellery Adams

  What if the note Bentley delivered to Chef Pierce had read exactly as Mia described? What if it contained an ultimatum as well as instructions to meet her in the cookbook nook? What if Mia had killed Chef Pierce? What if the wrong woman had been arrested for murder?

  “Why would she sabotage her own show?” Jane whispered to herself.

  She couldn’t think. The lights were too bright. The room was too hot. There were too many people crowding around her.

  Watching Mia play with her ring tickled Jane’s memory. There’d been something significant in Mia’s story about selling baked goods from her red wagon. Something about her cousin. But what?

  Fox thrust the golden ladle into Chef August’s hand. “Congratulations, Chef! I look forward to working with you. We’re going to design a terrific cookware line that everyone, from professional chef to beginner cook, will want in their kitchens. Chef August Cookware. Has a great ring to it, doesn’t it, Mia?”

  Snapping out of her stupor, Mia pasted on her red-carpet smile. “It sure does, Fox. Congratulations, Chef August.”

  Ignoring the chef’s protests, Mia took a step away from him and faced the camera. “Wow, this has been a finale to top all Posh Palate with Mia Mallett finales.”

  As she spoke, several things happened around her. A shell-shocked Chef August retreated behind the feast tables. The golden ladle hung from his hand, looking less like a trophy and more like a piece of trash he was eager to throw away. Chef Michel also backed away, which left Mia, Jane, and Fox alone in the spotlight.

  “We’ve never had a chef turn down the golden ladle and all that comes with it before,” Mia went on. “I mean, wow. People can really surprise you.”

  Jane wasn’t focusing on Mia’s words. Her attention was zeroed in on Mia’s hand, which had slipped into a pocket sewn into the folds of her gown’s voluminous skirt. The muscles in her arm tightened as she grabbed the object and slowly withdrew it from her pocket.

  Mia’s small fingers curled around the grip of a palm-sized pistol. Her eyes had lost their animated sparkle. Now, they were flat and cold.

  Acting on impulse, Jane jumped in front of Fox, shoving him backward just as Mia lunged at him, gun raised. The barrel dug into the tender skin of Jane’s neck, and she went rigid.

  “Damn,” Mia said. “I don’t know why you did that, but I can’t let you go now.”

  Jane’s mouth went dry. Her limbs felt boneless.

  “I know,” she whispered faintly.

  Mia jerked her chin at Fox. “Why would you sacrifice yourself for him?”

  “This is my house. Everyone under its roof is under my protection, including you.”

  Edwin eased into Jane’s line of sight, and she sensed movement all around her. The Fins were probably motioning for the chefs and judges to get away from the two women.

  “Don’t you move, Fox,” Mia commanded. “You don’t get to slink off. You need to listen to me, so grab a chair and sit.” She waited for Fox to comply before turning her face into the lights again. “Keep the cameras rolling, Ty. You’re about to get some Emmy-worthy footage.”

  Ty gave her a thumbs-up, clearly thrilled by the dramatic unscripted event.

  “Ty—” Fox began.

  “No!” Mia shouted. “You don’t get to talk. Just sit and listen.” Twisting her head from one side to another, she added, “If anyone moves or tries to interfere, I’ll shoot this woman. I’ll shoot her because my message is more important than her life.”

  Jane decided her best bet was to act like an ally instead of a victim. “Please. Do what Ms. Mallett says.”

  The pressure of the gun barrel eased a bit. It still rested against Jane’s neck but was no longer digging into her flesh.

  “Tell your story,” Jane said.

  Mia responded to the encouragement. “My genes are like the spices in a Moroccan market, and my relatives are just as colorful. They come from many different cultures, and I inherited parts of all of them. Growing up, I tasted recipes passed down through my European, Latino, and Asian family members. My life was full of stories and amazing food. I didn’t have brothers or sisters, but I wasn’t missing anything because I had Sud.”

  To Jane’s ear, the name sounded like suea.

  “Notice how I raised my voice at the end of Sud’s name?” Mia asked. “If you drop your voice, it becomes a totally different word. I used the Thai word for ‘tiger.’”

  Jane thought of Mia’s tiger eye ring.

  “Sud was my bestie, my brother from another mother, my other half. We did everything together. His mom was my mom’s cousin, and our apartments were right next to each other. Sud and I rigged this pulley system between our windows, and whenever one of us was told to go to our room, the other person would send a treat over. Notes or candy or library books.” To Jane, she said, “Magic Tree House and Goosebumps were our faves.”

  “Not Captain Underpants?” Jane quipped. It was a lame attempt at comradery, but it was all she could come up with.

  Mia’s eyes widened. “I forgot about those! Sud was a huge fan. He used to draw the captain during class. With our principal’s face.” She laughed. “That was Sud. He was fun and silly and he could always make me laugh. And he wasn’t scared of anything. He was short and skinny like me, but he never got bullied. He’d start shouting in Thai and make a crazy face, and the bullies would back off.”

  Love for her cousin softened Mia’s features and added a musical quality to her voice. She couldn’t reach into her memories without seeing her cousin. Sud had been Mia’s person, but somehow, he’d been taken from her. Jane knew this without Mia having to say it. She would have known without a gun to her neck. There was the tiger eye ring. The way Mia teared up whenever the chefs talked about their family. The way she’d spoken of the cousin who’d gone into business with her when they were children.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jane blurted.

  Mia was taken aback by this unexpected display of sympathy, but she recovered quickly.

  “Me too. Because this is the sad part of the story. Sud’s grandparents, who lived in Thailand, lost everything they owned in a landslide. Sud and I had just graduated high school, and we both earned full rides to a good college. College was the plan until Sud decided to spend the summer working in Thailand. He wanted to help his grandparents get back on their feet.”

  Behind Mia, Lachlan took out his phone, glanced at the screen, and whispered something to Edwin. Edwin made hand gestures at Jane, telling her to keep Mia talking. The Fins had a plan, and if Jane gave them a little more time, they’d save her life.

  “Did he find a job?” she asked Mia.

  “He was in his grandparents’ village, which is on the Thai-Cambodian border, for two whole days before he was approached by a guy looking for men to work on a fishing trawler. He gave Sud an advance for signing a contract to work the whole summer.” Mia’s face crumpled. “Poor Sud. He jumped at the chance to sign his own death sentence.”

  For a second, Jane forgot about the gun in Mia’s hand. All she saw was a young woman in terrible pain. Mia had cultivated an image of a woman who had it all. She was beautiful, rich, and successful. But that was just a façade. The real Mia Mallett was a heartbroken girl who’d never recovered from losing the person she loved most.

  “Sud was hired by a fishing syndicate that recruits men and young boys by promising them a little money up front and way more later. The men sign a contract designed to keep them working almost twenty hours a day, seven days a week. They can’t stop until they repay the recruiter’s fees, but they can’t pay! The fees are too high, so the men work until they get sick or die! They’re kept at sea or on a remote island with no hope of escape. Most of them don’t come back. Ever! Survivors talk about dead workers being tossed overboard like trash. It’s slavery, and you knew about it, Fox. You knew and turned a blind eye!”

  Jane wished she could see Fox’s reaction. Had his face clouded with guilt, or gone ashen with horror?

  Behind her, F
ox said, “With all due respect, Ms. Mallett, Cook’s Pride is a global—”

  “Don’t you dare feed me that line!” Mia shrieked. “Your company is big. You can’t know everything that goes on in the chain of supply, blah, blah, blah. But you knew what your fish suppliers were doing. You knew about the human trafficking just like you knew about the kids working the cocoa farms. Multiple humanitarian organizations have contacted you about these travesties. You. Fox Watterson. The heads of your UK and Australian divisions told you when their countries passed their Modern Slavery acts, but you figured a way around the new regulations.”

  Fox made spluttering noises.

  “You told everyone not to worry because your divisions in other countries would make sure Cook’s Pride continued with business as usual.” Mia’s jaw tightened in anger. “Profits before people, right, Fox?”

  “You have no proof,” argued Fox.

  “But I do.” Mia smiled at the camera. “Ladies and gents, the man behind the camera is Ty Scott. Ty is Fox’s nephew. And Ty’s mom is the COO of Cook’s Pride. She brings her work home all the time. And she keeps lots of files in her home office. Lots.”

  Jane sensed that Mia was nearing the end of her speech. She needed to stall for more time, and the only way to do that was to give Mia a reason to keep talking.

  “Killing this man won’t ease your pain. It won’t ease the pain of all the other families whose loved ones were tricked into slavery,” Jane said. “You’re a powerful woman. Use your platform to incite change. Tell your three million followers what happened to your cousin and ask them to take action.”

  Mia glared at Jane. “I’ve donated millions to put an end to human trafficking. I’ve backed politicians who didn’t keep their word. I’ve paid journalists to investigate. I funded two documentaries! People don’t want a lifestyle influencer to turn political! They want me to wear pretty clothes, have flawless skin, and post pics of amazing food that I can’t eat because I’m always on a diet.”

  The frustration in Mia’s voice was sincere, but Jane still felt like the younger woman was making excuses.

  “What good can you do from prison?”

  Tapping her temple, Mia said, “That’s how I can do the most good. If I shoot his sorry ass, the story will go viral. Billionaire babe takes revenge on crooked CEO. It’ll be everywhere. Ty can sell this footage and make his mark as a director. I’ll give interviews. I’ll write a tell-all. It won’t mention the trendiest sushi bars or the most exclusive resort in the Maldives. It’ll be about Sud. It’ll be about the heinous crimes happening right this second.”

  Mia spoke the truth. She could shine a global spotlight on human trafficking by becoming a different kind of media sensation. She’d be a household name, and the cause that meant more to her than her freedom would finally get the attention it deserved.

  “I know you want to help people, but murder is never the answer.” Jane’s panic was rising. “You’re not a killer. You’re a good person who misses her best friend. You’ve outed Fox and his company. Cook’s Pride will have to make changes or face massive boycotts by its consumers.”

  “That’s not enough. Unless I put a bullet in him, the story will be dead in a few days.”

  Jane couldn’t think of anything else to say. She glanced over at where Edwin had been standing, but he was gone.

  “You’re not a killer,” Jane insisted. “You make roller-coaster cakes. You taught me to hide an olive in my sons’ veggie dip. You replaced our antiques. You bought those cookbooks for Mrs. Hubbard. That’s who you are. Your cousin would be proud of you.”

  Mia’s arm trembled, and an inch of space appeared between the gun barrel and Jane’s neck. Tears raced down Mia’s cheeks.

  “I never got to say good-bye.”

  “I’m so sorry. It still hurts because you loved him so much. I promise to help you find a way to honor his memory.”

  Mia thrust out her chin and her arm went stiff. “This is bigger than me and Sud now. Get out of the way, Jane. It’s him I want, but if you don’t move, I’ll shoot you instead.”

  Jane didn’t budge. “Chef Pierce’s death didn’t save anyone. Mr. Gilmore’s burns didn’t save anyone. Why would shooting one of us change a thing?”

  “Chef Pierce?” Mia was momentarily confused, but then, her anger flared. “Stop talking. Now. Ty? It’s time to wrap this finale!”

  Blood roared in Jane’s ears. She’d failed to get Mia to stand down. She was out of time. If she didn’t move aside, she’d die.

  Her breathing grew shallow as Sinclair’s lessons on disarming an armed assailant ran through her mind. She only knew how to deal with an assailant who’d approached from the front or from behind, not the side.

  There was nothing she could do to save herself other than pray for a distraction.

  Her desperate gaze swept from left to right, but the lights were too bright. She could see only haloed outlines and ghost-like shadows.

  And then, without warning, all the lights went out.

  Chapter 20

  “I would have passed out,” Anna said, handing Jane one end of a paper teacup garland. “But not you. I bet you kicked the gun away or tackled Mia, and by the time the lights came back on, you had everything in hand.”

  “Not quite,” scoffed Jane.

  She taped the garland to the crown molding and climbed down the ladder. Anna followed Jane to the opposite side of the dining room and waited for her to ascend the ladder before handing her the other end of the garland.

  The Cover Girls were getting ready for Eloise’s surprise bridal shower. Weeks ago, after a flurry of group texts, they’d decided on Literary Weddings as the theme. It perfectly complemented Landon Lachlan’s Jane Eyre–inspired proposal and gave the women a chance to celebrate their favorite literary romances.

  Jane had taken all the paintings off her dining room wall and was now hanging the framed artwork she and her friends had made. Each piece featured a romantic quote from one of the Cover Girls’ favorite novels. After printing the quotes on thick cardstock, the women had decorated the margins with hand-painted flowers. The overall effect was charming.

  It had been easy for Jane to pick a novel because Jane Eyre was Eloise’s favorite, and they both loved the line, “Wherever you are is my home.”

  Betty hung Mrs. Pratt’s quote. A voracious reader of romances, she’d had a tough time choosing just one but finally decided on a quote from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series.

  “‘And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours,’” Betty read the line out loud. “If that isn’t romantic, I don’t know what is.”

  Phoebe, who was hanging her Pride and Prejudice print with its “I never wish to be parted from you from this day on” quote, groaned in exasperation.

  “Jane! Tell us what happened next,” she cried. “Anna and I missed everything, so don’t get distracted!”

  Jane laughed. “Sorry, my mind’s all over the place. Anyway, I wasn’t the hero of the hour. Mabel was. She’ll explain while I grab the centerpiece from the kitchen.”

  Mabel stopped arranging Linzer tarts on a plate long enough to wave a dismissive hand. “I didn’t save the day, either. That honor goes to the men in Jane’s life.”

  Betty grabbed Violet’s arm and said, “We’ll get the centerpiece, Jane. You and Mabel tell the story of how the lights went out.”

  Jane shook out her lace tablecloth, and Phoebe helped her spread it over the table. As she smoothed out wrinkles in the cloth, Jane said, “As you know, Mabel spent part of the week at a trade show in Atlanta. One of the things she was most excited about was a panel on modern knitwear. Take it from here, Mabel.”

  “For years, I’ve made scarves, hats, and mittens to sell at the shop, but I’ve been dying to shake things up,” Mabel said. “The panel was supposed to showcase articulated pullovers, metallic tank tops, cocktail dresses, and funky tunics—the kinds of hip knits I want to make.”

  Mrs. Pratt left the room to retriev
e the platter of heart-shaped finger sandwiches just as Betty and Violet reappeared, carrying the centerpiece. The vase was actually a stack of resin books with ivory covers. Jane had filled the hollowed out stack with baby’s breath, blush-colored roses, and flowers made from book pages. She’d then woven a tiny strand of battery-powered lights through the arrangement.

  “Fit for a fairy queen,” Jane said, placing tea light candles around the centerpiece.

  Sensing Phoebe’s impatience, Mabel resumed her narrative. “The panel was great, but some of the audience members weren’t. A group of women in the next row spent the whole time looking at their phones and talking. They didn’t even try to whisper, and just when I was about to give them a piece of my mind, the Wi-Fi crashed. You should have seen those girls! They actually left the panel to find out why their phones had no bars.”

  “Even though Mabel wanted to strangle them, those tech-obsessed ladies showed her how to stop Mia,” said Jane. “Mia was going to shoot Fox Watterson while the cameras were rolling. Without those cameras, there was no reason to go ahead with her plan.”

  “Because she wanted attention?” asked Phoebe.

  “Yes, but not for herself. She wanted the save people, which was noble. If a few lives were lost in the process, that was okay with her, which wasn’t noble.” Jane put an arm around Mabel. “In the end, no one was hurt because this amazing woman remembered what had happened when the Wi-Fi crashed.”

  Not one to stay quiet for long, Mrs. Pratt hijacked the narrative. “Mabel charged out of Shakespeare’s Theater! You should have seen how fast she moved. She was a woman on a mission. And her mission was to find someone to cut the power.”

  “That someone was Sterling. He listened to Mabel’s idea, kissed her on the lips, and sprinted off.” Betty grinned. “Eugenia and I saw it all. Mabel went a little weak in the knees.”

  Mabel fanned herself with a package of doilies. “It was a mighty fine kiss.”

  The Cover Girls whooped and whistled.

  Anna put out serving utensils for the spinach salad, quiche, and sliced fruit platter. She then stared at Jane. “So everything went dark. And there you were, inches away from a woman threatening to kill you. How did you know what to do?”