Dog Collar Cuisine (A Lucie Rizzo Mystery Book 5)

by Adrienne Giordano

  In an odd way, they were both trying to rise above the legacy of their parent. The dysfunction in Anna’s life made Dad look like a rock star. He had his faults, but he kept them fed and safe. She’d never condone his choice of employment, but perhaps, once in a while, she could thank him for putting a roof over their heads and keeping shoes on their feet.

  “Thank you, Anna. I was hoping you’d understand. Why would I want to risk all that I’ve built by doing something as stupid as stealing?”

  All in all, the talk with Anna had gone well. No promises, but she’d been reasonable. It gave Lucie hope that they’d straighten the mess out. Antoine would return as a client and, more importantly, maybe invest in the dog food company.

  On her way to her car, Lucie fired up her phone. The voicemail alert chimed. And chimed. And chimed. Goodness, her phone was blowing up.

  The phone rang. Ro’s ringtone. Four calls and three texts. Overkill much? She hit the sidewalk and punched the answer button as she walked.

  “Oh. My God!” Ro said. “Where are you?”

  Lucie laughed. Couldn’t help it. Dealing with a hyped-up Ro was better than a hit off a crack pipe. Assuming a hit off a crack pipe was good. “Just leaving my meeting with Anna. Why?”

  “Meet me at McCormick Place.”

  “Why?”

  “The chef.”

  “Antoine?”

  “No. His friend. The broke-and-about-to-get-his-ass-sued one. He’s got a one-day gig at a food show. They feature a different chef every half hour. It’s open to the public.”

  Hmmm. Interesting. “And you know this how?”

  “I followed him on Twitter. He posted it.”

  Very good. The drama queen definitely got points for that.

  “And,” Ro added, “let me just say, he is a very. Bad. Boy.”

  Lucie reached the corner and pressed the button to cross, her eyes focused on the electronic sign urging her not to walk. “What did he do?”

  “I Googled him. He’s had a few DUIs, a disturbing the peace charge, and an assault charge. The assault is sketchy. Looks like a bar fight. Lord, that’s Joey every weekend. That one was dismissed, but he was later sued for damages. Medical bills and that. He’s on the hook for $45,000.”

  That made two lawsuits, including the one pending from the wedding-gone-wrong.

  “Huh,” Lucie said. “He’s a hot mess, isn’t he?”

  “You know it, girl. If you want to get a look at him, he’ll be the featured chef at 1:30. I’m heading home now to change. I’ll meet you there.”

  Leave it to Ro to waste time changing when the skirt and sweater she’d had on that morning were perfectly acceptable.

  “Why are you changing?”

  “Seriously? My work is never done. I need a button-down blouse in case we call in the troops.”

  Chapter Eight

  “What time is it?”

  Lucie checked her phone while Ro messed with the exhibitor booth map, flipping it upside down and back again in a near-futile attempt to figure out where exactly they stood.

  “It’s 1:28 so we’re good. He should just be starting.”

  “Yeah, but there are 500 exhibitors.”

  Just ahead of them, booths sat in clusters of four then extended into long rows. Lucie did a quick count of twenty rows.

  Giant—gargantuan—room.

  Ro angled back, checking the number above the door. “We are here.” She pointed to the east entrance on the map then dragged her French-manicured fingernail to the west entrance. “Here’s where we have to go. With this crowd, it could take an hour.”

  Once again, Lucie glanced at the crush of people monopolizing the rows.

  “If we’re getting through there, you’ll need to do more than pop a few buttons.”

  “Sister, if it gets us through that mess, I’ll strip to my skivvies. Just don’t tell your brother.”

  Beep, beep. A balding man with enough liver spots on his head to draw a diagram honked at them from his motorized scooter. Lucie and Ro stepped aside.

  “Sorry,” Lucie said.

  “Don’t you worry, honey. Was just letting you know I’m coming through. My son is at the end of this aisle. He just invented some doohicky that pops lids off jars. Great for arthritis. Thought I’d come and support.”

  How sweet was that? Lucie smiled. “Well, good for you. Do you need help getting through the crowd?”

  “Nah. I honk and if they don’t move, I run their asses over.”

  Ro held her hands to the sky. “Sent straight from heaven. I simply adore him.”

  “Gotta be aggressive,” the man said, “or you get swallowed up.”

  He hit the accelerator and zoomed by, almost taking out two women, who flipped him off.

  Ro grabbed hold of Lucie. “Come on, we’re hitching a ride on his tail.”

  Beep, beep. Beep, beep. “Coming through,” the man hollered above the crowd.

  “Make way,” Lucie added.

  The man swung a look back at her, nearly plowing over a woman carrying a huge box of pots.

  “Watch it, old man!”

  He swerved left around the woman, keeping Lucie and Ro with him.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” Lucie said. “We’re hitching a ride with you. We need to get to the west entrance lickety-split.”

  “Stick with me, honey, I’ll get you there. Name is Sam, by the way.”

  “Hi, Sam. I’m Lucie and this is my friend Ro.”

  They neared the end of the row, narrowly escaping the wrath of no less than a dozen people, some using swear words Lucie had never even heard of.

  “You’re awesome, Sam,” she said.

  He gave them a thumbs-up. Lucie and Ro broke off, sprinting toward the west entrance. Well, as much as Ro could sprint in stilettos and a skin-tight leather skirt.

  The aroma of cooking garlic mixed with…something…wafted toward them. “Smells good,” Lucie said. “I’ll need a snack after this.”

  “We’re on a diet.”

  “We are?”

  “If you’re with me, yes. What you do on your own time is your business.” Ro pointed. “I think this is him. I recognized him from the pictures online.”

  Lucie and Ro pushed toward the front of the small crowd surrounding the platform and inched to the second row. Ro nudged into an open space behind a woman no taller than Lucie.

  With Ro’s height, not to mention boobs, her presence would make itself known. Lucie had come to accept certain things about her childhood friend. One of those things being her BFF’s ability to walk into a room, make eye contact with men and turn some of them to slobbering idiots.

  Ro had outdone herself today in a leopard-print coat, the leather skirt, and a cream blouse with buttons begging for release.

  Rueben LeBeau, a tall man with sandy blond hair and a spotless chef’s coat, wielded two frying pans, shaking and tossing vegetables.

  “As you can see,” he said, “the trick is to use a non-stick pan. Plus, it makes for easy cleanup. For those of you who just walked up, I’m preparing shrimp fried rice. A quick, satisfying meal the whole family will go for. You can do this with chicken, beef, or pork. Or all of the above. I experiment with vegetables, too. I love the versatility of this recipe. Need it to be gluten-free? No problem, just swap out the rice for a gluten-free alternative. I’ve done it today with a nice jasmine rice. It has a kick of sweetness to it.”

  He set the pans down, scanned his crowd, and tossed in more vegetables.

  His eyes, of course, met Ro’s and she offered up a flirty smile.

  “Pop a button,” Lucie said. “We need him to lock on.”

  “Look at you. Usually you’re rolling your eyes.”

  “Usually I’m not accused of blackmail. Before this is over, I want this guy drooling and weak.”

  Ro reached up and casually opened another button on her shirt. “I got this, Luce. He’s toast.”

  A man no less than one hundred shuffled up behind them, his veiny hand
wrapped around a cane, slightly bumping Ro to make room for an equally veiny woman.

  Giving him what little space she could, Ro stepped forward and found herself on the receiving end of a glare from the brunette in the front row.

  “Sorry,” Ro said. “Making room for the older folks coming in.”

  Then Lucie felt something brush her rear. What the… She peeped over her shoulder and the old man met her gaze with watery brown eyes. A filthy smile played on his lips.

  Attempting to ignore him, Lucie refocused her mind to the matter at hand.

  “Yip.” Ro swung around, the purse hanging on her shoulder flying into the brunette. “Hey, old man, did you just squeeze my rear?”

  “Quit pushing,” the brunette said.

  Ro gawked. “Well, sor-ry. I’ve got an ass-grabber here.”

  Terrific. On a mission and they run headlong into a pervert attracted to leopard print.

  Lucie narrowed her eyes at the old man, who lifted his chin defiantly.

  “Wilbur, did she say something?” his wife asked, her voice loud and carrying above the crowd.

  Apparently, the missus left her hearing aids at home.

  Ro waggled a finger. “Keep your hands to yourself. I have no problem decking handsy men. I don’t care how old you are.”

  “All right, folks!” The chef’s voice boomed through the speakers as he fought to regain the attention of the crowd. “The vegetables are cooking. Let’s crack an egg in here and scramble that.”

  He made eye contact with Ro again and she dipped her head, placing her hand over her heart. The sex-kitten form of apology. Lucie nearly gagged, but the chef? He blew her a kiss.

  Blech.

  “Lord,” Lucie said.

  “Wilbur?” the old woman said again.

  “There, there, Mavis. Everything is fine.”

  But the woman’s eyes burned into Ro. “Whore!”

  Whoa.

  Ro’s face contorted, her skin stretching into a long, open-mouthed gape.

  If this woman hadn’t been a million years old, Ro would have cold-cocked her—bam—and sent her to the floor.

  Geriatric insults were tough. Even Ro wasn’t mean enough to hit a woman older than dirt.

  Lucie might be, though. Calling someone a whore in a crowded area was just wrong.

  “Ma’am,” Lucie said, “apologize to my friend. That’s not nice.”

  The woman raised her open hand to the ceiling. “Marriage,” she said, her voice overtaking Chef Reuben’s, “is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled: but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge!”

  Ro snapped from her stupor. “Did she just call me a whoremonger?”

  “These shall hate the whore,” the woman droned on, “and shall make her desolate and naked, and shall eat her flesh, and burn her with fire.”

  The brunette in the front row turned back. “That one I recognize. Book of Revelation.”

  “Shrimp is in,” the chef said.

  God, this was a freak show. A growing one. The crowd behind them had doubled. More than likely from the preaching about whores and adulterers.

  The old woman’s eyes seared into Ro. “For true and righteous are his judgments: for he hath judged the great whore, which did corrupt the earth with her fornication.”

  The woman in front elbowed her friend. “That’s definitely Revelation.”

  Outrage flooded Lucie. How dare these people judge them? “She’s insulting my friend. How is it our fault this woman’s husband is an ass-grabber?” Lucie whirled on the older couple. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves. You, sir, for being a pervert. And you, ma’am, for enabling his horrid behavior. Now, apologize to my friend.”

  From the podium, Reuben cleared his throat. “Let’s mix it all up!”

  “Oh, I’ll mix it up, all right,” Ro said.

  Someone nudged from behind, knocking the old woman into Lucie and Lucie into the friend of the woman playing bible trivia.

  The woman stumbled forward. Lucie reached for her, hoping to keep her from going over.

  “Hey,” the friend yelled, gripping the back of Lucie’s coat and shoving her.

  “Now I’m done,” Ro said.

  Oh, no.

  Visions of a bloody Tiffy Nelson sprawled on the playground blacktop filled Lucie’s mind. Back then, Ro caught an in-school suspension. Now? If she clubbed someone, she’d wind up slapped with an assault charge.

  Can’t have that.

  Lucie leaped in front of Ro, body blocking her. Undeterred, Ro poked a finger at the woman. “Touch my friend again,” she said, “and I’ll knock you out.”

  “Chick fight,” someone from the back yelled.

  “And here we are,” Chef said, “a nice family meal. Finish it with soy sauce and it’s a crowd pleaser.”

  Could he still be cooking?

  Lucie glanced up, found him holding a giant bowl of fried rice for the crowd to see.

  “Who wants a taste test?” he asked

  The crowd let up a cheer and everyone pushed around Ro, Lucie, and the smackdown about to ensue.

  Two women in black skirts, crisp white shirts, and bow ties stepped from behind a screen. They each carried a giant tray of samples, drawing the crowd to the end of the small stage.

  Chef hopped off the platform and landed beside Lucie. “Ladies, what’s the problem?”

  “Ask that ass-grabbing old man,” Ro said. “Where is that little filth ball?”

  “This bitch pushed my friend,” the woman with the brunette said.

  “Because someone pushed me,” Lucie cried. “I only grabbed her to keep her from falling.”

  “And don’t call Lucie a bitch.”

  Chef held up his hands. “Ladies, if I may.” He gave them a little bow that was equal parts cheesy and charming. “The drama provided a nice crowd, and I’m forever grateful, but let’s not have security show up.”

  Ro tossed her hair back. “It’s all the ass-grabber’s fault.”

  Where’d they go? Lucie scanned the crowd, found the couple moving toward the samples, and sighed.

  “Unbelievable. They cause a brawl and then scoot off.”

  “Come on,” the brunette said. “Did he seriously cop a feel?”

  Ro held up a hand. “I swear he did.”

  The brunette shook her head. “And this from a God-fearing man. I’ve seen it all.”

  “Look,” Ro said, “I apologize for bumping you. You were collateral damage. Couldn’t be helped.”

  The woman waved her off. “Eh. It’s fine. I don’t blame you for being mad.” She turned to her friend. “Let’s go, Mo. I hear there’s pulled pork at this end of this aisle.”

  The two women cut around the crowd gobbling up the fried rice, but Chef Reuben still stood beside Ro and Lucie.

  Might as well capitalize on it. She eyed Ro. The roll-with-me stare.

  “Chef,” she held out her hand. “I’m Lucie. I am so sorry we ruined your demonstration.”

  His face lit up. “Are you kidding? Look at this crowd. I beat the guy before me by at least twenty people.”

  Competition. Always a motivator.

  “The rice smells fantastic.”

  “Hold on. You have to try it.”

  He hopped back onto the stage, scooped some rice into a smaller bowl and handed it down to Lucie with a couple of forks.

  “Go ahead. Please.”

  The two of them dug in. Chef’s gaze ping-ponged between them, as if waiting for a reaction. A sigh, a moan, any indication of orgasmic pleasure.

  “Fabulous,” Ro said. “Is the soy sauce homemade?”

  “It is. My secret recipe.” He winked at Ro. “You have to get the salt just right.”

  If this guy was a blackmailer, he played it down like a Hollywood A-lister. Nothing in his mannerisms said crook. If anything, Lucie sensed immense pride in his work.

  Lucie met Ro’s eyes again. With time dwindling before the ransom drop, they needed to start eliminating suspects.
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br />   “You know,” Lucie said, “we’re here today to scope out potential caterers.”

  “Really?”

  Lucie nodded.

  “What type of an event?”

  Uh…

  “Wedding,” Ro blurted.

  Rueben smiled. “A wedding. Excellent. My specialty.”

  Lawsuit notwithstanding.

  “Which one of you is the lucky girl?”

  “Her.”

  “Her.”

  Chef’s eyebrows drew together.

  “Double wedding,” Lucie said.

  Good God. Totally off script here.

  “Fun,” he said. “How big of a crowd?”

  Yikes-a-roo with all the questions. Who knew hiring a caterer required so many details? Lucie reminded herself this man was out of work. Having been downsized before, she understood the panic and heartbreak that came with being unemployed. Even to find a blackmailer, she wouldn’t give false hope.

  “We’re still working that out. We’re trying to decide if we want to go with a traditional venue that will handle the food or something a little different.”

  “Like what?”

  Silence drifted. Lucie sent a help-me signal to her BFF.

  “Um,” Ro said, “my aunt’s mansion. In Barrington.”

  Ro moving on the fly. Excellent work.

  “Lovely,” Chef said.

  An aha-moment fired Lucie’s brain. A man blackmailing his friend for two million dollars would probably want to be available at the time of the ransom drop. If Reuben was available at 11:00 the next morning, they might be able to eliminate him from the suspect list.

  “Yes,” Lucie said. “We’re actually meeting with potential caterers tomorrow. Are you familiar with Chef Antoine Durand? His casserole is to die for.”

  Reuben blanched, but she’d give him credit for cementing his charm-boy smile in place.

  “Antoine? Of course. He’s actually an acquaintance. We worked together when we were both straight out of school. Excellent chef.” He winked at Lucie. “Obviously, I’d tell you I’m better, but we can leave that to you to decide. I’d love to prepare a meal for you to prove it.”