by Lynn Cahoon
Matt and Angie stared at her.
“What?” Her face reddened under the LED lights.
“School doesn’t start until next week. You need to have some fun. Working all the time makes Jill a dull girl.” Angie moved her arms so the server could drop off their dinner. Angie had ordered fried chicken, potato salad, and corn on the cob. The corn was on a stick and drenched in butter and salt. Her mouth watered.
“Besides, we have all those access passes to the rides the fair guys gave us.” Matt held up his wrist. “This puppy isn’t coming off until the carnival leaves next Monday.”
“I don’t know…”
Matt picked up a piece of chicken and pointed to it. “That’s what you are.”
“I don’t get it.” Hope took a bite of a leg.
“Bawk, bawk, bawk…” Matt said through a mouth full. “You’re scared. You’re a chicken.”
“I can outride you with my eyes blindfolded.”
Matt shrugged, apparently disinterested now in Hope’s involvement in his plan. “Whatever.”
“Fine, I’ll go ride with you. But not on weekdays. Only on weekends.” Hope shook her head and focused on Angie. “It’s really sad. He doesn’t have any friends but me.”
“That’s so not true. You’re just the one I see all the time.” He tipped his head toward his plate and started chowing down. “This is really good,” he said through a mouthful of potato salad. They’d just finished eating when Angie’s timer on her phone went off. “We have five minutes to get back.” She took a deep breath. “I’m so nervous. I know I said all I wanted was to stay in the competition, but maybe…”
“Our corn dog was the ultimate best.” Hope took the plates and trash off the table. “But if they can’t see that, they’re idiots. It’s not a reflection on us or our food.”
“Okay, Sally Sunshine, let’s go see who won.” Matt stood up to guide them out of the tent and back to the Restaurant Wars site. The area was overflowing, but Matt grabbed both women’s hands and moved them through the crowd. The judges climbed to the stage just as they arrived in front of their trailers. The area was blocked off by a velvet rope. Matt pointed to the trailer, and the man standing guard at the entrance let them inside.
Hope grabbed Angie’s hand, jumping up and down a little. “Sorry, nervous energy.”
Angie smiled and glanced around the area at the other trailers. Miquel stood in front of his trailer, signing autographs for the teens who crowded around his area. Angie turned away, not wanting him to see her. Then she glanced the other way. All the booths had people in front of them, but the Sandpiper booth only had two people. Maybe Mr. Nubbins was still off getting dinner and had sent representatives to the meeting.
Finally, Ann Cole tapped on the microphone. After a few seconds, everyone quieted. Then she began to thank everyone who had even considered being part of the competition. Angie felt Hope’s hand relax and finally, she dropped her hand to her side. The nerves must have been bored away.
When Ann Cole finally handed the microphone over to a second judge, he held up an envelope.
“Our winner is…” He grinned, then opened the envelope. “David Nubbins, from the Sandpiper.”
The crowd cheered, and the two prep chefs looked at each other. Finally, one held up his hand. “I think David must be in the trailer taking a nap. Sheila will go get him.”
That got a chuckle from the group. But when Sheila opened the door to the trailer, she froze. Then she started screaming.
All Angie could hear was her sobs.
“David, oh, no, David…”
Chapter 4
Security quickly started ushering people out of the area. Angie saw what was happening, and she and Hope went into their trailer and grabbed their purses and Matt’s backpack. He stood guard at the door. Luckily, they had enough time to make sure they had their keys before they were escorted out of the area.
The chefs were all moved to a small security office in the middle of the fairgrounds. Sydney pointed at Angie’s purse. “You were smart. I just have my phone. I didn’t even think to grab my keys. Do you think they’ll let us back in to get our things? Brandon’s working the dinner shift. He can’t leave to come get me.”
“If they don’t, I’ll take you home,” Angie promised.
Ann Cole walked into the room. “I’m sorry to inform you that David Nubbins is dead. The police aren’t releasing any more information than that, but his trailer is being moved off-site so it can be examined. Of course, his winning status will stand, but I’m afraid the Sandpiper has declined our offer of replacing the trailer and continuing in the competition. Therefore, only two booths will be eliminated tonight.”
She glanced over at the other judges. “And, due to the special circumstances, tonight and tonight only, we are giving you all the information for tomorrow’s contest.” She opened an envelope and listed off two restaurants. “I’m sorry, your entry just wasn’t as good as the rest of the groups.”
“Pack your knives and leave,” Miquel called out, and nervous chuckles came from some of the other contestants.
“Rudely said, but yes.” Ann Cole opened another envelope. “For the rest of you, your challenge tomorrow is to make a milkshake to die for.”
A quiet fell over the room.
Ann’s face burned bright red. “Sorry, that was an insensitive way to put it, but these challenges were made weeks before the fair even opened. The dairy commission is sponsoring this event, and not only will the winning team earn immortal glory, but five thousand dollars as well. Remember, your milkshake needs to be able to be served with or without liquor.”
Angie had been right again. She’d planned on shopping tonight, but if she had to drive Sydney home, it would have to wait until tomorrow. She glanced at Hope and Matt. “Any ideas?”
“Tons.” Matt glanced around the room. “But are you sure this is the best place to talk about them?”
“Good point.”
When the security officer came into the room, Angie’s plans were changed anyway. “I’m Harry Bodley, and I’m head of security here. Ladies and gentlemen, if you need to get into your trailers, please line up by the door. I’ll have officers ready to escort you to gather anything you need to take home. The rest of you are free to leave. Your event will be delayed until ten tomorrow, so don’t bother coming early. You won’t be able to get inside the area.”
Sydney smiled at her as she made her way to the line. “You’re off the hook. I just texted Brandon and told him what happened. He sent me straight home and up to bed. I guess he’s sending over dinner tonight. The good thing about living with another chef, right? Someone always wants to cook.”
Angie hugged her. “If you’re sure you’re okay. You’re not feeling dizzy or anything?”
“I’m pregnant, not sick. And I feel a lot better than poor David. Can you believe he’s dead?”
Angie twisted that question around all the way home. She could have gone shopping, but she really didn’t feel like it. All she wanted right now was to check on Precious and Mabel and then go inside and cuddle up to Dom.
When she got home, the lights were on in the house, and Ian’s wagon was parked in the driveway. She didn’t make it into the house before he’d opened the door and pulled her into his arms. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s just a shock. We didn’t know anything had happened until they announced that the Sandpiper had won the contest.” She stayed in his arms for a minute longer, then felt the gentle nudge on her leg. She moved into the house before sitting down and pulling Dom into a hug. “Hey, big boy. Did you get a visitor today?”
“We went out and fed the zoo, and Dom even let Precious sniff his nose before he barked and sent her scurrying.” He shut the door behind them. “I told her you’d see her in the morning.”
“I should go out to see her.” Angie pi
cked up the glass of water Ian had set in front of her. “I just don’t have the strength.”
“Well, you’ll be glad to know I cooked. Felicia sent me here with takeout, but I added a fresh salad and garlic bread. It kept me too busy to worry.” He nodded to the water. “You want some wine before dinner?”
“Sure. There’s an open bottle of white zin in the fridge.” She closed her eyes, but then reopened them. “Wait, how did you know something happened? Who called you?”
“Who didn’t? But I knew because I was at Allen’s house when they called him in to help out. I guess they’re trying to be open about jurisdiction, probably because Garden City’s police force got slashed last year due to budget cuts.” He poured two glasses of wine. “Then Felicia called to see if I could stay with you since she was stuck at the restaurant. She bribed me with food.”
“Well, at least we know your weak spot.” Angie sipped the wine. “Did your uncle let slip any information about how David died? All I know is his pastry chef went into the trailer and started screaming.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but they’re suspecting poison. At first, the EMTs thought it was a heart attack, but he had foam coming out of his mouth when they turned him over.” Ian studied her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I didn’t accept any gifts of poisoned apples today, so I’m thinking I’m fine. Why would someone take him out during the competition? I mean, the guy had already won this round. And seriously, the prize money isn’t large enough to kill for, right?” Angie closed her eyes, reliving the scene. Sheila’s happy face leaving the front of the trailer, then her horrified screams later. It seemed like a bad movie, not a low-key game at the fair.
“You never know. Some people want to win at all costs, no matter what it takes.” Ian took a bowl of salad out of the fridge and set it on the table. He continued setting up dinner while he talked. “Besides, we don’t know that it was someone from the competition. Maybe he owed the mob money and couldn’t pay.”
Angie narrowed her eyes at Ian as he took a plate out of the microwave. “Does Boise even have a mob?”
“Organized crime is everywhere. We’re too close to Nevada and real gambling for me to assume we’re outside their influence.” He put a second plate into the microwave to warm and carried the first over to the table. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll grab the second plate.”
The smell of meat loaf with garlic mashed potatoes made her stomach rumble. Glancing at the plate, it looked like Estebe had made a demi-glace to go with it and some butternut squash puree for the base. She took a small bite, wanting to taste all the flavors in the glaze as well as the puree. “Just what I needed after a long day at the fair.”
“Felicia’s good like that. I don’t even order anymore when I go in. I let her pick my meal.”
Angie decided not to nitpick the plate; instead, she decided to just enjoy dinner. For once. “She knows what’s coming out of the kitchen.”
“She knows what the diners need. I see her do this all the time. People will ask her suggestions, and she will give them exactly what they need. She can read people. Barb says she’s got a bit of the gift.” When the bell dinged, he grabbed the plate and took it to the table. Sitting down, he started eating, only then realizing that Angie was watching him. “What?”
“I can’t believe you think there’s actually something supernatural going on with her.” Anger seethed through her body. And with that one over-the-top emotion, she knew she was too tired for company.
“I don’t think she’s different. I’m just saying she knows, somehow.” He shook his head. “But that’s not what you’re upset about, are you?”
Somehow he could always read her. Always sense when she glossed past a problem or a feeling. She started to tell him, but then realized she didn’t have a clue what was really bothering her. “I don’t know.”
“Eat. You’re tired. You’ve had a huge shock. You didn’t need me showing up tonight when all you really wanted to do was cuddle on the couch with Dom and watch cooking shows.” He took a bite of the meat loaf. “Man, this is good. Estebe is a good substitute when you can’t be in the kitchen.”
“And he knows it.” Angie smiled, and this time, the emotion really felt right. “I don’t want you to leave, but let’s not talk about anything. Not the competition, not the fair, not even our jobs.”
“Perfect. I’m just going to be here eating if you need me.”
Angie laughed as she watched him focus on his dinner. Eating food, it was the perfect healing activity. Especially for her. As she continued to eat, she started feeling calmer, more in control. By the time she finished her dinner and had poured another glass of wine, she felt almost human. “How do you feel about a film version of a Broadway musical?”
“Les Miz? Or Phantom?” He started clearing away the dishes as he made a pot of coffee.
She set her plate in the sink. “I was thinking about Hair.”
* * * *
The Sunday morning sun flowed into the bedroom as she woke. She didn’t remember going to bed, but apparently Ian had carried her from where she’d fallen asleep on the couch to her bedroom, and threw a quilt over her. A bottle of water and a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers sat on her end table.
Dom stood at the side of the bed, watching her.
“Hey, boy, I guess I slept through my alarm.” Or, she thought as she threw her legs over the bed and rubbed the top of his head, Ian had probably turned it off. She checked her phone, and as she had suspected, the five o’clock alarm had been turned off. She thought about turning it back on right away, but Monday was one of her sleep-in days. She’d fix it tomorrow night. “Give me a few minutes, and we can go outside and feed Precious.”
Dom whined in protest and lay down at the bottom of the bed. He hated visiting the barn, mostly because he hated the black goat. Maybe she was putting too many human thoughts into the dog’s head, but she could read his emotions better than she could read most people. Like that crazy Miquel. What had that been about?
She showered and got ready for her day. She’d need to be out of here soon since she still needed to stop at the grocery store for supplies, but she thought she’d be done and waiting at the site for Restaurant Wars to open. Now that she wasn’t so tired and emotionally drained from the excitement, she could play with the idea of the milkshake. She wanted to go local, and hopefully, her supplier would still have huckleberries. That would be the perfect base.
Humming and holding a cup of coffee in her hand, she crossed over the yard to the barn to feed the animals. Mabel was already up and outside. She gave Angie a sideways glance, but didn’t follow until she had filled the cup with chicken feed and poured it on the ground near her watering bowl. She smiled down at the hen. “You’re welcome.”
Then she went farther inside to greet Precious, who waited at her gate. During the summer, Angie left the back of her pen open to the outside so she could go grazing as she wanted. But the goat always seemed to know when Angie was coming to feed and would meet her at the front of her stall.
Today Precious wanted her head scratched behind her ears. Ian did that every time he saw the goat, and apparently, she’d come to expect it from all her visitors. Angie grabbed the short wooden milking stool she’d found in the barn when she’d moved back home and decided to spend some quality time with the goat. Besides, Precious was a very good listener. Angie laid out the events of yesterday, including the fact that the winner had been the one to die. She wondered if that had been the point. But if that was true, the killer had to have access to the judges’ results, if not the discussion. She thought about the five judges. They were all local politicians. Would any of them have had a problem with David? Angie made a mental note to call Felicia on the way to the fairgrounds. She had at least an hour-long drive, but with it being Sunday, she might get lucky and shave some time off the commute. She needed to ma
ke a shopping list. Felicia could help with that as well.
When she’d finished her coffee and her talk with Precious, she had a plan. First off was to grab some breakfast and write out her shopping list. It was going to be a long day, and she needed fuel.
As she cooked some eggs and sausage, her phone rang. She answered, putting it on speaker.
“Hey, Angie? How are you?” Felicia’s warm voice filled the room. Dom’s tail pounded on the floor, and he glanced around, expecting his friend to walk through the door any minute. Angie smiled and turned off the burner since the eggs had finished. She plated them and stirred the sausage.
“I’m fine. Thanks for sending Ian over with dinner last night.”
A short laugh came over the phone. “I figured you were either going to thank me or kill me for that. I hope I didn’t guess wrong.”
“Actually, I had both feelings. I was so tired, but he was thoughtful. What am I saying, it’s Ian. He’s always thoughtful. Which makes me a royal jerk for being a witch to him.” Angie went to the fridge to get the jar of fresh salsa she’d made a few days earlier. She sprinkled shredded cheese on the eggs, then a dollop of the salsa.
“You’re perfect for each other. You balance each other out.” Felicia paused. “Anyway, I didn’t get to talk to Jeorge about the mixer today. He’s not answering. I doubt if I’ll get him to pick up before noon.”
“That’s okay. I’m going to pick up both rum and vodka and do a taste test. If you reach him, ask him what goes best with milkshakes.” Angie set the sausage patties on the plate and turned off the last burner. Then she put the pan in the sink and sat with the plate at the table. Dom stared up at her, his mouth drooling—one of the bad things about owning a food-sensitive Saint Bernard.
“You’re actually doing a shake?” Felicia sounded surprised. “I would have thought an iced blend would be easier.”
“Go big or go home.” Angie glanced at her food. “Look, I’m going to eat now. Can I call you when I’m driving to the store?”
