The Gourmet Girl Mysteries, Volume 1

by Jessica Conant-Park

  But Detective Hurley was wrong. I was connected to Josh.

  TWELVE

  I called Josh late Thursday morning after class. I wasn’t trying to follow any rules about calling or not calling within a certain number of days since I thought that was all a bunch of BS.

  “Hey, cutie! How are you?” he said cheerily.

  “I’m good. I just got home from class, and I thought I’d check in with you about Friday night. Is it still okay if we come in for dinner?”

  “Of course. You’re going to bring your friends Adrianna and Owen, right?”

  “If that’s okay with you. I’m sure the restaurant will be swamped on a Friday night. I don’t want us to be in the way.”

  “Not at all. I told Maddie you were coming in, and she’s going to have places set up for you at the kitchen. We’ve got an open kitchen like Essence does, but I hope you’ll have a better time at Magellan than you did there. So, what’ve you been up to the past few days?”

  I told him about visiting with my parents and sister, and my idiotic field placement. I left out the discussion I’d had in group therapy. Why ruin the conversation by mentioning that he was a murder suspect?

  Josh thought my father’s crabfest story was hysterical. “You want me to make you soft shell crabs? This is your last chance before the season’s over.”

  “That would be wonderful. Ade and I love soft shell crabs. But Owen has some sort of seafood phobia that dates to a bad shrimp he ate ten years ago. He hasn’t eaten anything that’s lived in the ocean since,” I said apologetically.

  “No problem. I’ll make him something else, and you girls can have soft shells, okay?”

  According to BCGSSW’s policy on avoiding nonsexist language, girl was an unacceptable term for someone over the age of eighteen. Suggested nonsexist terms included female adolescent and woman. Obviously, You adolescent females can have soft shells wouldn’t do at all. You women can have soft shells? Possibly. But for really good soft shells, I’d have been willing to tolerate even egregiously sexist language, particularly because Josh, however manly, struck me as more boyish than as adolescently male, and his use of “girls” was clearly intended to convey affection.

  “I don’t want to be a bother …” I started.

  “Stop. I want you to have anything you want on Friday.” Hm. Double meaning there? I hoped so.

  We hung up and, even though I had a full day ahead of reading about the atrocities of the health-care crisis in this country, I did a happy dance around the kitchen.

  On Friday, Adrianna showed up precisely at three. For a minute I thought she might be going out of town: she had a three-piece luggage set with her. I looked at her questioningly.

  “Supplies.” She smiled. She lugged the suitcases into my room and started unzipping them. “Now, I wasn’t sure what you’d be in the mood for, so I brought a little of everything.”

  I sat down on the rug as Ade began showing me various outfit options for the night. Even though she was skinnier and leggier than I was, she wore her clothing even tighter and shorter than I did, so her things usually fit me well enough. “Okay,” she said. “Strapless black knee-length dress?”

  I shook my head violently. “Not unless I want to be flashing my boobs at Josh while he cooks.”

  “So, we’ll save that for your next date?”

  “Ha-ha. Keep going. And nothing white. You know I’ll spill food on myself.”

  We ran through a few more outfits before we settled on a stretchy, short-sleeved pale green top and a matching short skirt with tiny flowers.

  “Now we’re highlighting your hair,” she announced. “Your roots are disgusting.”

  I could always count on her for honesty, if not for tact.

  Adrianna spent the next hour weaving chunks of my hair into completely unflattering foil sheets. “If my hair turns green, I’m going to kill you,” I threatened.

  “Shut up. I’ve done this a million times. Besides, would I ever make you look like a freak? It would reflect badly on me.” She giggled and continued to torture me.

  When she’d finished glopping on the vile-smelling chemicals, I stood up and looked in the mirror. Aluminum foil stuck out all over my head. “This was not at all what I was going for,” I moaned pitifully. With my luck, Noah would show up at the door any moment and I’d have to answer it like this.

  “Then don’t look in the mirror until I’m done.”

  Within an hour, the foil and glop were gone. So were the dark roots. As if by magic, I had snazzy highlights in my red hair. After I’d showered and dried off, Ade blew my hair out. Twenty-five minutes of yanking, I was done. As she rubbed a defrizzing serum through my smooth style, she said, “It’s a tiny bit humid out tonight, and I do not want you frizzing up. Now,” she ordered, “start your makeup while I get dressed.”

  I turned on the oldies station while we finished beautifying ourselves. I listened to Adrianna sing along to “Don’t Pull Your Love (Out)” and was satisfied to realize that she was completely tone deaf. Ha! One thing she wasn’t good at!

  When she’d finished getting dressed, I said, “You don’t look like yourself.” She had on the kind of boring, conservative outfit she never wore—gray dress pants and a long-sleeved, button-down white shirt—and her newly brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail. I should have felt insulted. “I know what you’re doing,” I said, “and you don’t need to. I’m not worried about Josh trying to pounce on you. I want you to look like you again. Wild and hot. Okay?”

  “This is your night, and I didn’t want you to think I was trying to … can I go back to blonde tomorrow?”

  I nodded and hugged her. “You’d better. Now, put on something low-cut, skimpy, and sexy, okay?”

  “Yay! Chloe’s back! This Josh Driscoll must be something special if you’re so relaxed and happy,” she teased. “And I’m ready for a margarita.”

  I blended up our drinks while she changed into a fuchsia tank dress, shook her hair out, and applied more makeup. “We’ve got half an hour before Owen gets here,” she said, “so I say we drink up and discuss your love life a little more.” She leaned in to me and whispered, “Did you shave your legs?”

  Two strong drinks later, Owen picked us up in his beat-up Blazer, which was possibly the ugliest car I’d ever seen, dark brown with yellow stripes on the sides. “Ugly and reliable, just like me!” Owen always said. Please. He was gorgeous. Very Irish looking, Owen had fair skin, dark hair, and bright blue eyes. He and Adrianna actually made a strange-looking couple, since she was always glamorous and style conscious, and he bought most of what he wore at a vintage clothing store in Harvard Square. We jumped into the Blazer, and Owen hit the gas.

  “Owen! What in God’s name are you wearing?” Adrianna yelled.

  “What? You don’t love it?” He grinned devilishly. He’d gone all out for our big night by dressing in a deep orange polyester suit and brown cowboy boots.

  “Apologize to Chloe for this ghastly ensemble. I told you to wear something normal. And preferably something made in this decade.”

  It could have been the margaritas talking, but I had to laugh. As foolish as the outfit was, Owen managed to pull it off. Besides, as atypical as the suit was of Magellan’s clientele, everyone always liked Owen. He was charming and funny and loyal—and could put up with Adrianna’s headstrong, not to say occasionally obnoxious, personality.

  “Owen, I think you look dashing,” I insisted. “And I won’t lose either of you tonight in your bright colors.”

  Adrianna shrieked, “Oh, Jesus. I’m not sitting next to you, Owen. We’ll totally clash!”

  “So, Chloe,” Owen said, cutting off another car, “are you nervous?”

  “Actually, no. I don’t know why,” I answered. Butterflies on amphetamines were flying around in my stomach, but mostly I felt happy at the prospect of seeing Josh again.

  We reached the South End in record time, thanks to Owen’s terrifying driving skills, and parked with the val
et outside Magellan. “And I don’t want to see any marks on this baby when I get back.” Owen winked at the attendant. Ade rolled her eyes, glancing at the wreck Owen called a car.

  Suddenly nervous, I said, “Ade, you go in first.”

  “Don’t be a loser.”

  “What if he’s wearing one of those silly tall white hats? I’ll be so embarrassed for him,” I said, panicking.

  “Only dorks wear those, and Josh doesn’t sound like a dork.” She pushed me through the door.

  The restaurant was so full that we had to squeeze through a crowd to get to the hostess, who was apologetically explaining to a couple that there would be an hour-and-a-half wait for a table.

  “Hi,” I said to the hostess. “I’m Chloe, and I think Josh made a reservation for the three of us?”

  “Oh, sure. He said you’d be coming in tonight. Nice to meet you all. I’m Margaret. Just follow me back here. Josh has set you up by the kitchen.”

  Déjà vu: I again followed a hostess through a restaurant for a date.

  Magellan was so high toned that I tried not to giggle as Ade in her hot pink dress and Owen in his orange suit followed behind me. We walked past a square bar area and past tables of customers in the center of the room to get to the open kitchen. There was another dining area ahead of us, but the kitchen was clearly the heart of this restaurant. Although Essence had been attractive, with its own open kitchen, I now saw that Magellan was the original and Essence a copy.

  “Oh, look at that rack of lamb,” I heard Owen say. For once, my own eyes weren’t on all the food around me but were scanning the kitchen for my chef.

  Once again, I had an eerie reminder of my visit to Essence: we were seated at a counter that ran the length of the kitchen. But this was a spacious counter covered with rustic-looking stone. As we took our seats in plush bar-height chairs, I felt sure that other customers of Magellan and Essence had noticed the similarities between the restaurants. Who could have missed them?

  “Wait, Chloe, you have to sit in the middle. Owen and I cannot be next to each other in these outfits,” Adrianna insisted.

  “You two are weird,” I said but agreed that it would be best for other diners if they didn’t have to witness the pairing of my fashion-extremist friends. Maybe my green outfit would tone them down?

  Once settled, I looked up to see Josh off to my left furiously chopping onions. How cute was he? He looked so serious and focused and lovable. He suddenly whipped around to the grill behind him and flipped a piece of meat. I could tell, even from a distance, that it was perfectly seared.

  “That’s Josh, I bet, right?” Ade asked.

  I nodded.

  “How did he know that was done? He wasn’t even looking.”

  Owen, Ade, and I continued staring at Josh while he worked. We watched in awe as he sharpened a chef’s knife on a steel with a bright blue plastic handle. The sharpening steel reminded me of something a fencer would use, probably because of the swift, smooth way Josh dragged the knife blade across the top and then under the bottom of the metal rod. I was able to watch in comfort only because he held the knife with the blade facing away from him. When satisfied with his knife, Josh reached under the counter and pulled up a bunch of leeks that he speedily sliced and tossed with the onions into the hot skillet behind him. The sweet aroma brought a smile to my face.

  Ade nudged me. “If slicing onions makes you smile like that, who knows what could happen later.”

  I rolled my eyes. “But seriously, isn’t he cute?” I couldn’t stop staring at Josh, who was a Josh I hadn’t seen before, Josh at work.

  “He’s adorable,” she agreed.

  After shaking the pan of onions and leeks, Josh finally looked over and caught my eye. “Hi, beautiful!” He leaned across the chef’s counter to give me a little kiss. “I’ve been waiting all week to do that.”

  He called me beautiful! And kissed me!

  I introduced Adrianna and Owen and was happy to see that Josh appeared not to notice Ade’s supermodel looks.

  A dark-haired young man appeared by Josh’s side. “You want me to pull out the sea bass?” he asked.

  “Hey, Brian. Yeah,” Josh said. “Brian, this is Chloe, Adrianna, and Owen. Here for dinner tonight as my guests, so we have to impress them. My future happiness depends on what we cook for them tonight,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “Oh, so this is Chloe?” Brian poked Josh’s side with his fingers. “Let me tell you something. I’ve never seen Josh burn anything until this week. But so far, he’s burned a salmon and two steaks, and I’m betting you’re the reason.”

  I was pleased to note that Josh blushed as he playfully shoved Brian away. “That’s enough of that. Just go get the sea bass. We’ve got a three top that’s all ordered the special.”

  At a guess, a “three top” meant a table of three people. Before I could ask my chef what tops had to do with anything—top hats? tops of people’s heads?—he turned back to us and said, “Okay, kids, you ready to eat? I thought I’d start you off with my spring rolls. And then I’ve got soft shell crabs for the ladies and a duck for you, Owen. Sound good?”

  Owen clapped his hands together eagerly. “Bring it on, baby! We’re ready!”

  Josh looked at me and smiled, holding my gaze for a moment.

  “Josh! The leeks!” Brian yelled.

  Josh spun around, saw the burning mess in the pan, and threw his hands up. Brian laughed, “One cute girl and look what happens.”

  Josh started chopping fresh leeks just as Madeline approached our group. “Hello, again, Chloe,” she said. “I’m so glad to see you. You made quite an impression on Josh.” She smiled conspiratorially. “I guess the ride home worked out well, huh?”

  “It did, it did,” I agreed, unable to stop grinning. I introduced Ade and Owen. “And this is Madeline Rock. She owns Magellan.”

  We all chatted for a few moments before Madeline offered us drinks from the bar. Adrianna asked for wine, and Madeline said she knew exactly the right bottle for us, on the house, no less.

  “Excuse me, folks.” A young waitress dressed in all black spoke from behind us. “The chef asked me to bring these out to you.”

  She placed the plates of spring rolls in front of us. These spring rolls bore so little resemblance to any I’d ever seen before that they seemed to demand a different and far more grand name. The rolls were about five inches across and had been sliced in half at an angle and placed artistically on the brilliantly white plate. Brightly colored shredded vegetables were wrapped tightly in the golden brown wrapper, and two sauces had been poured on either side of the roll.

  “Whoa, these look awesome,” Owen said.

  We started eating, and I started smiling again. Truly, they were fabulous. The vegetables were crisp and flavorful. And the sauces?

  “Oh my God,” Adrianna murmured with her mouth full. “Unbelievable.”

  Josh shouted over to us from the grill. “Happy?”

  We all nodded enthusiastically. “Dude,” Owen started, chewing a huge bite, “what is in these?”

  “I’m glad you like it. Um, let’s see … onions, zucchini, squash, cabbage, peppers, carrots, roasted garlic, cumin, and coriander. And the sauces are a sesame-mango sauce and a port wine syrup,” he said proudly.

  Josh looked to me, and I could tell he wanted to know what I thought. But I didn’t need to say anything: he saw my happy expression and nodded. “All right, all right,” he said softly.

  We polished off every bit of our spring rolls and ordered another bottle of wine while we quietly discussed what a catch Josh was. The meal only continued to get better when our waitress brought our entrées. Josh had done a lavender-glazed duck for Owen with, our waitress told us, a sweet soy sauce and aromatic spices, jasmine rice, and Chinese long beans. Adrianna and I were presented with soft shell crabs fried in cornmeal on a vegetable “hash” made with finely diced onions, red peppers, carrots, potatoes, and fresh thyme, all served in an orange-scented
fish fumé with truffled pea tendrils.

  “Man, if you don’t marry him, I might,” Owen said as he admired his duck.

  I smiled. “Hey, back off. Besides, I think you’re taken already.”

  “He certainly is,” Adrianna said. “But I wouldn’t mind if you could cook like this, Owen.” Owen was famous for his ability to make noodles and sauce à la Lipton and not much else. He and Ade ate out all the time. They knew good food but couldn’t cook it.

  The three of us worked our way through the delicious plates Josh had prepared for us, and Owen even asked for a bite of the crab dish. “I never thought I’d see the day when you ate seafood,” Adrianna said in disbelief as Owen plunged a fork into a juicy bite.

  “Me neither,” Owen agreed. “But I can’t help myself, that looks so good.” He practically moaned as he bit into the crab.

  “Guess I know how to get you in the mood now,” Adrianna teased her boyfriend. “We’re coming here every night, I think.”

  The restaurant was still full when we’d finished our meals, and Josh had been busy cooking and plating food. Besides Josh and Brian, two other people were in the kitchen helping prep ingredients and dunking more spring rolls into a deep fryer. Things had just started to calm down by the time our plates were cleared when suddenly we heard a loud bang from the back of the kitchen.

  “I dropped the tray of guinea fowl!” Brian growled. “What’s wrong with me!”

  “Brian, take it easy,” Josh called back. He headed toward the scene of the mess.

  He returned a moment later, looked at me, and shrugged. “I love Brian, but he’s so clumsy,” he said with real affection. “Let’s hope no one orders the guinea fowl tonight.”

  “Could he get fired for that?” I asked Josh, knowing what high hopes he had for his protégé.

  “He could probably set the whole kitchen on fire and Maddie wouldn’t let him go. She knows a few lost birds here and there aren’t worth getting rid of him. Oh, hey, Maddie,” Josh called as the owner crossed into the kitchen. “Our boy just dumped the guinea fowl on the floor. You’d better go check on him. He feels pretty bad about it.”