Death by the Dozen

by Jenn McKinlay

  “Shut up,” she said. There must have been something in her tone because both Angie and Olivia’s sous-chef looked at her in surprise. “A man is dead—show some respect.”

  Olivia shrugged. “What do I care? I didn’t know him. I wasn’t his little pet.”

  Mel moved before it was a conscious thought. She fisted Olivia’s blue chef coat in her left hand while her right formed a fist.

  “I said show some respect,” she said through gritted teeth. “What part of that don’t you understand?”

  A flash of fear lit Olivia’s eyes, and her sous-chef stood behind her flapping her arms uselessly as if she thought she should defend her boss, but she didn’t want to be the one to take the pounding herself.

  “Hey, would you look at that?” a voice asked. Mel glanced over her shoulder to see that the pert and perky Polly Ramsey had joined them. She was looking at her number two spot and appeared very chuffed about it.

  “Wow, do you see my name?” she asked. “Look, I’m up there with you!”

  Polly set off to get a closer look at the board, and they all watched her go before anyone moved.

  Mel relaxed her grip on Olivia’s coat and smoothed the creases with her palm as she said, “I think we understand each other now.”

  “Oh, I understand,” Olivia spat. “Now you understand I’m going to pound you, just so we’re clear.”

  Angie stepped forward, but Mel stopped her with a hand on her elbow.

  “May the best chef win,” Mel said.

  “Don’t worry, I will,” Olivia said, and she stormed away from the dais.

  “Mel, so help me, if you withdraw us from this competition because of Vic, I will understand, but oh, I will be so disappointed.”

  “I’m not going to withdraw us,” she said. “After all, this may be the best place to find out more about Vic’s death.”

  “No, no, no!” Angie protested. “We are not getting involved in this, absolutely not.”

  Twelve

  “ We already are involved ,” Mel said. “Vic was my friend, and we’re the ones who found his body. How much more involved can we get?”

  “That’s one way to look at it,” Angie agreed.

  Mel had started to walk around the grounds, and Angie fell into step beside her. They had to duck and weave as workers were hauling carts, setting up for the day’s events.

  “Or we could focus on making mincemeat out of Olivia in the competition and save the whole murder thing for the police.”

  “Absolutely,” Mel agreed. Her eyes scanned the gathering crowd. “Olivia’s going down, but if along the way I happen to gather information that I think will help Uncle Stan, I’m going to pass it on to him.”

  “But that’s not our purpose,” Angie said, looking concerned. “That’s secondary. Mel, hear me, ‘There’s one thing I want you to do for me. Win. Win!’”

  Mel turned to look at her and frowned.

  “Did you really just quote Rocky II to me?”

  “It helped, didn’t it?”

  Mel shook her head and walked away.

  “Oh, come on, it had to help a little,” Angie protested. Then because Mel didn’t acknowledge her, Angie started humming the Rocky theme song behind her. She jogged around Mel, doing her best Rocky impression, which was pretty bad. Mel couldn’t help cracking a small smile.

  “All right, all right,” she said. “I get it. You want to win. I promise I won’t let anything get in the way of that.”

  Angie stopped jogging and hugged her. “And I will do anything I can to help you gather information.”

  Mel gave a nod and glanced at her cell phone. They had only a half hour until they were to report to the dais for today’s culinary competition. She wondered if Grace would be here or if she’d stay holed up in her hotel room. Mel was betting on the latter.

  “I’m going to run a quick errand,” she said. “Meet me at the stage in twenty minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I want to ask our host what he thinks about Vic ending up in a freezer,” Mel said.

  “Johnny? You’re going to talk to Johnny Pepper?” Angie gaped. “You said you were going to gather information; you didn’t say you were on a suicide mission.”

  “Why is it a suicide mission?” Mel asked.

  “Have you seen Johnny’s show?” Angie asked. “That man is crazy. He actually learned how to eat fire. How do you know he won’t shish kebab you?”

  “I’ll be fine. I’m just going to see what I can find out,” Mel said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be subtle.”

  “Joe is going to be so unhappy about this.”

  “I don’t see any reason why Joe would have to worry his pretty little head, do you?”

  “No,” Angie said with a resigned sigh. “Fine, I’ll go see if I can chat up Pete and Dan from the bar yesterday. Maybe they heard something.”

  “Twenty minutes,” Mel said, and she hurried off to the conference hall they had met in yesterday. Johnny Pepper had a dressing room in it all to himself. She was hoping he was there now, prepping for today’s competition.

  She blew through the conference room, where her fellow competitors were caffeinating and carbing up on the free coffee and muffins that had been put out for them.

  She saw Polly, who waved at her, but Mel stayed in motion while she waved back, not stopping until she reached Johnny’s door. She raised her fist to knock, but the sounds of shouting made her pause and press her ear to the door.

  “She’s not qualified!” a Southern drawl as thick as molasses sounded through the door.

  “Who cares?” a voice snapped back. It sounded familiar, but Mel couldn’t place it. “She’s a damn sight better looking than that miserable old—”

  “Watch it,” the drawl said again. “You’re talking about my friend.”

  “Whatever,” the voice argued. “You can’t replace her now. She’s already been photographed as the replacement judge, and like it or not, she’s going to be a real boost to our ratings.”

  “Even though she doesn’t know a garlic press from an egg slicer?”

  “She doesn’t need to. She’s representing the everyman palate.”

  “Oh, spare me.” The drawl sounded disgusted. “Are we through?”

  “For now,” the voice said.

  “Good, then clear out,” Johnny said. “I need some prep time.”

  Before Mel could step back, the door was yanked open, and she found herself face to face with Dutch.

  “Mel, what a surprise,” he said.

  He was dressed in his usual creased slacks and dress shirt, but she noticed that he didn’t look as calm as usual. In fact, his shaved head was beaded with sweat, and he didn’t even bother to put on the charm.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I just came by to see Johnny,” she said.

  “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

  “Well, now you do,” Johnny said. “If you’ll excuse us?”

  Dutch glanced between them and gave Mel an inquisitive look before he reluctantly departed.

  “Always a pleasure,” Mel called after him. She stepped inside the room and closed the door.

  “Melanie Cooper, right?” Johnny asked.

  “That’s me,” she said. She clasped his outstretched hand and was surprised to find it rough with calluses. Johnny Pepper hadn’t always been a celebrity.

  “I saw your work yesterday,” he said. “Impressive.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for chasing Dutch off.”

  “No worries. He’s an idiot—charming, but an idiot.”

  He turned and grabbed two water bottles out of a mini-fridge and then handed her one. “It’s going to be hot out there; you’d better drink up.”

  Mel unscrewed the top and took a sip. She was stalling for time, because now that she was here, she really didn’t know what to say.

  “I accidentally, no, I take that back,” she said. “I was eavesdropping at your
door—”

  Johnny interrupted her with a bark of laughter that was as abrupt as the spikes of his blond hair.

  “Now I know why Vic liked you so much. You’re a straight shooter,” he said. “You know, he talked about you all the time.”

  Mel felt her throat get tight, but with a grimace, she pushed it away.

  Johnny gave her a sympathetic look. “It was a crushing blow to lose Vic. He was a pain in the rear, but I liked him and I respected him. The man was larger than life.”

  Mel nodded. She took a sip of water, trying to loosen her throat. “Can I ask you what Dutch was so mad about?”

  “Oh, that.” Johnny looked unhappy. “Bake-Rite cake flour, the sponsor, isn’t thrilled with having Jordan Russell take Vic’s place, a bit of a drop in prestige, and he wants me to support Jordan as Vic’s replacement.”

  “Dutch is okay with her?” Mel asked.

  Johnny raised his eyebrows, and Mel got the feeling there was something between Dutch and Jordan that Johnny wasn’t too happy about. Rather than put him in an awkward position, she decided to let it lie for now.

  “Listen,” she said, “I came to talk to you because Bertie Grassello told me yesterday that Vic had been let go by the network. You’re employed by the same network; can you tell me if it’s true?”

  Johnny hesitated, and Mel couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know the answer or he wasn’t sure how much he should say.

  Finally, he blew out a breath and said, “Yeah, it’s true. For the record, I hate to be the one to confirm this for you.”

  Mel realized that it was his loyalty to his friend that made him hesitate. Knowing that Mel had been Vic’s favorite student, he didn’t want to do anything that would diminish Vic in her eyes. She decided that she liked Johnny Pepper.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I loved him, but I wasn’t blind to his faults.”

  Johnny looked relieved. “He had a few.”

  “More like a hundred,” Mel said, and Johnny grinned.

  “I’m going to miss the old bastard,” he said.

  “Me, too,” she said.

  There was a sharp rap on the door.

  “Ten minutes, Johnny!”

  “Got it!” he yelled back.

  Mel stepped toward the door. “Thanks for your time, Johnny. I appreciate the information.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “If you want to catch dinner sometime and talk, just let me know.”

  Mel met his gaze and noticed that his eyes were a greenblue hazel like her own. They also had a spark of interest in them that she couldn’t ignore. For a nanosecond, she was tempted to accept his offer. It wasn’t often that she met a man with whom she had so much in common. But then she remembered Joe, and it was a no-brainer. She belonged with Joe, period.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you on the stage.”

  She shut the door behind her, and no sooner had she stepped into the main conference room than a ruckus erupted, the cause being a volcanic-looking Olivia Puckett.

  “See?” she shrieked. “See? She’s cheating! She’s getting the mystery ingredient information from Johnny Pepper. I demand that you remove Fairy Tale Cupcakes from the competition!”

  Thirteen

  Mel glanced up to find a red-faced Olivia pointing at her with one meaty finger while a glowering Felicity Parnassus stood beside her. It took Mel a moment to recognize Felicity as her hair was a completely different shade today. Mel was sure her hair had been fiery red yesterday, but today it was platinum blonde; however, the same stick figure and too-big head gave away that it was indeed Felicity.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Is this true?” Felicity asked. “Are you cheating, Ms. Cooper?”

  “Are you serious?” she asked. “I was in there talking about Vic Mazzotta as he happened to be special to both Johnny Pepper and me.”

  The door behind her popped open, and Johnny stuck his head out. “Problem out here?”

  “And I want him fired, too!” Olivia declared. “Cheater!”

  Johnny’s dark eyebrows lowered in a squint as if he were sighting Olivia for a blast from a canon.

  “What did you say?” he asked. His voice for all its Southern charm sounded as lethal as a rattlesnake’s bite.

  “You told her the mystery ingredient, didn’t you?” Olivia asked. “Admit it!”

  “Given that I am not told the ingredient until I reach the cooking area, that’s impossible,” he said. He glanced at Felicity. “You know that.”

  Mel looked at Felicity, who was busily looking anywhere but at Johnny.

  “Quite right,” she muttered. “Silly of me, really. Well, now that I’ve done my duty, shall we get on with it?”

  She glared at Olivia and swept past her to the exit. Olivia flounced after her as if she’d like to take up her cause again, but Mel had a feeling Felicity would not be so eager to listen to her this time.

  “Thanks, Johnny,” Mel said.

  “No problem,” he said. “You’d better hurry. We start in five.”

  Mel waved and ran out of the building toward the cooking dais. She hoped Angie was already there.

  “What took you so long?” Angie hissed as Mel skidded into the kitchen beside her.

  “I got held up by Puckett,” Mel said.

  “Oh, well at least you look happier than she does.” Angie glanced over to where Olivia stood. Her chest was heaving, and her expression was twisted as if she were having bad thoughts about what she could do with some of her sharper cooking implements.

  “Yeah, she accused me of trying to get the mystery ingredient out of Johnny,” Mel said. “She even called in Felicity Parnassus.”

  “No!” Angie gasped.

  “Yes,” Mel countered. “Luckily, as Johnny pointed out, even he doesn’t know the mystery ingredient until he steps on the stage and they hand him the box.”

  “The woman is becoming unglued,” Angie said. “How far will she go to beat us?”

  Mel turned her head and studied her friend. Angie’s brown eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. They turned to look at Olivia, who was rattling around in her kitchen, looking like she wanted to mince someone. Mel had a pretty good idea whom she would pick.

  “Nah,” she said. “Olivia wouldn’t murder Vic to get to me. That’s crazy talk.”

  “Is it?” Angie asked. “Think about it. She knows you’re Vic’s favorite student; heck, everyone does. It’s not like he made it a secret. She was furious that he was one of the judges. She may have whacked him just to make sure you’d lose.”

  “That’s mental,” Mel said.

  “Yeah, we’re talking about Olivia. Do you know anyone else who fits the description of nutso like she does?”

  Mel had to admit, Olivia had cornered the market on crazy, but a murderer? She had to give it a solid maybe.

  She was about to say as much when Johnny Pepper leapt onto the stage in front of them, holding yet another large box. It was crunch time now, because this was no longer just a challenge to the chefs competition.

  Mel wanted to know who killed Vic, and the best way to do it was to be here where his killer had struck. She couldn’t afford to be bounced from the competition and lose access to all of the players. With that thought in mind, she pushed aside all of her questions and focused on what was in the box.

  With his usual flourish, Johnny worked the crowd, and finally when they were whipped into a frenzy of curiosity, he pulled the lid off the box and announced, “And the mystery ingredient is . . .”

  Mel and Angie were riveted as he reached into the box and pulled out a bottle of dark beer.

  “A stout!” Johnny held the bottle aloft, and Mel heard the crowd go wild.

  This was not one of the ingredients Tate had tested them with; still, she had an idea. With eight of their competitors gone, it would be easier to get to the ingredients they needed. Mel told Angie to go for the dark stouts, a chocolate if she saw any, and they waited with tin
gly anticipation for Johnny’s count.

  “Go!” he yelled, and the chefs mobbed the cart. Mel and Angie each managed to snag some excellent choices, and when they got back to their kitchen, Mel was in full chef mode.

  “Joanie,” she called their runner. “This is what I need.”

  Joanie repeated the items to make sure she understood them and bolted off in the direction of the supply cupboard. Mel and Angie stood next to each other and talked with their hands shielding their mouths like two baseball players devising a play on a ball field just in case any of the other chefs were watching.

  They broke apart and started cooking. Mel could feel the eyes of other chefs on them as she and Angie worked like a well-oiled machine. Joanie hurried back with a bag of ingredients. She stood at the side, ready to make another dash if she was needed, but Mel was feeling very confident.

  “Hey, Angie and Mel, say cheese!”

  They glanced up to see a pack of Angie’s brothers and their families standing in the crowd, holding up signs that read, WE LOVE FAIRY TALE CUPCAKES!

  “Oh my god,” Angie said. “This is as bad as the time they showed up shirtless with body paint and sounded off an air horn when Principal Harris said my name at high school graduation. Shoot me.”

  “I can’t, I need you,” Mel said. “Hey, at least this time they have their shirts on.”

  “Given that they stood out of order and spelled my name Nagie instead of Angie, I’m pretty sure they’ve abandoned the body paint idea for life.” Angie said. “At least I hope so.”

  Mel smiled and wrapped an arm around her as they mugged for her brother Paulie’s camera. Then they pulled Joanie in and made her pose, too.

  The halfway buzzer sounded, and Mel pulled their dessert out of the oven. It was going to need to be cooled down, so she popped it into the mini-fridge and set about getting the plates ready. She wanted these to look as professional as possible.

  The judges wandered amongst their stations; mercifully none of them stopped to chat with her. She didn’t know if it was because she was a blur of busyness today or if they were respecting her grief over Vic. She suspected it was the blur factor, which was fine with her. She could rally a smile for the family but not for anyone else.