by Lynn Cahoon
Angie laughed and pulled out the red spiral from her purse. “Of course, but I’m Daphne, not Velma. Get it straight, Fred.”
Chapter 8
Ian parked the truck in front of the Red Eye. “I’ll just wait here. I need to check my emails again to make sure that guy is actually showing up in the morning. He’s had a ton of questions.”
“I’ll be right back out.” Angie slid out of the truck and slammed the door, earning a glance from Ian, who shook his head at her. “Not my fault the guy drives a tank,” she mumbled as she pushed open the heavy wooden door of the bar.
Immediately she went from a bright summer day to darkness. The beer signs around the bar glowed neon light and the pool tables all had a light bar over the top, but mostly, the light was provided by strands of white Christmas lights all around the room. She blinked, letting her eyes adjust before taking a step farther into the room. She didn’t want to run into a table or trip on a step.
Soon, she was able to see the bar and the small woman standing behind it, watching her. She had a cup of coffee in her hand, and she had the same look that Ian had given her just now outside.
“Come on over. There’s nothing in here that’s going to hurt you.” Barb called out.
“Just trying to see so I can walk. Man, you keep it dark in here.” Angie moved toward the bar, the box of food held in front of her.
“That’s so you women look better and better the more I drink. By the time I leave here, I’ll have a beauty queen on my arm.” An older man turned and drank beer out of a glass.
“Jerry, the last time you left here with a woman was so long ago you probably don’t remember you married her a week later. Don’t mind him, Angie, he’s confused with his role in life. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”
Jerry chuckled and turned back to talk to someone to his left. Barb picked up the coffeepot and refilled her cup. She held it up to Angie. “You want some?”
“I’m good. Ian’s out front and we have reservations.” Angie set the box on the bar and turned to leave. “I hope you enjoy.”
“Hold on a sec.” Barb opened the box, took a whiff, then closed it again and set it behind her. “That smells good.”
“Thank you.” Angie paused, wondering if she was excused now.
Barb nodded to the stool. “Sit down a minute. You’re making me nervous.”
“But, Ian…” Angie stopped talking when Barb threw her a look. Nona used to have that same look at times. It meant stop talking and listen. She sat. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, I got to thinking after you left about that contest that you’re in. And I need to tell you there’s at least one of your competitors that I know is up to no good. He used to work here, and although I could never prove it, I’m sure he skimmed off the top of the receipts. He’s one of the reasons I don’t let anyone but me handle the night’s till.” Barb leaned closer, her voice quiet. “He was trying to woo me. Like I’d fall for some young stud whom I could have given birth to. He’d flirt hard, but I didn’t let him hook me. Then I started noticing the receipts going down. So, I’d send him on break and do a count halfway through. When my halfway count was more than the end of the night till one Saturday, I told him where the door was and not to come back.”
“Did you report him?”
Barb shook her head. “He called a few days later and apologized. Said he’d pay me back, that it was a onetime slip. But I knew better than to believe his lie.”
Angie thought she could guess whom Barb was talking about, but she didn’t want to jump to conclusions. “Who was it?”
“Miquel Montoya. I hear he’s a big-shot chef over in Boise at some Mexican restaurant.” She grabbed the box and a fork and sat down on her stool. When Angie glanced at her, she shook her head. “Just watch yourself. That’s all I’m going to say. Now, get out of here and go have a real date with your guy.”
Angie blinked coming out of the dark and into the light. She could still smell the smoky odor mixed with stale beer. She climbed into the truck. “Sorry that took so long. Barb was chatty.”
Ian nodded, finishing a note on his phone. “She usually is. At least with people she likes.” He sniffed, then rolled down the window to let the breeze in.
“Do I smell that bad?” Angie lifted the top of her sundress and groaned when she took a whiff. “Maybe we should go back to the house so I can change.”
“You’ll be aired out by the time we get to dinner.” He turned onto the road and headed the truck toward Boise. “Felicia and Estebe stopped by for a second on their way out of town. They said good luck.”
“We’re going to need it.” Angie filled Ian in on Barb’s experience with Miquel. After she was finished, Ian drove on, quiet. She waited for some kind of response, but when he didn’t speak, she asked, “Are you awake?”
“I heard everything you said. I just don’t understand some men. Why would you steal, and definitely why steal from an older woman who’s just trying to make a living? There are ads everywhere for jobs available. Just work, save your money, and live a normal life. No one gets rich quick. And found money is like shifting sand. Not something to build a strong foundation on.”
Angie smiled. Ian was solid in his beliefs that you worked your way through life and carved out your own treasure. She hadn’t told him about the weirdness she’d run into with Miquel at the fair, and she didn’t think she would. He hadn’t done anything but be creepy. And she could handle that on her own. But she thought she might just go visit Bien Viveres tomorrow and have a talk with the guy. Putting poison in nachos was a little like shining a spotlight directly on the chef at Bien Viveres, but maybe subtlety wasn’t his strong suit.
She’d take Felicia with her. Just in case.
She realized Ian was watching her as he took the entrance to the freeway. As he merged into the speeding traffic, she smiled. “I haven’t been in Boise for what, a day? I like it better when I just hang out at the farm on my days off.”
“I think you’d stay there forever or until you ran out of food. Have you found anyone who delivers that far out?” Ian swore under his breath as a small sedan swerved in front of him, causing him to brake quickly.
“No. So if you want a new business idea, there you go. Food delivery to rural homes. But not meat in a freezer. Those guys creep me out.”
“Maybe we could rehab a semi, set up a mini store, and drive it around. The problem is, I don’t think the profit margin on fresh produce is big enough to pay for the gas for the semi.”
“Details.” Angie pulled out her phone and found the website for Tara’s Tea House and started reading. “This is something interesting on the About the Chef page—did you know Tara McKnight worked at the Sandpiper right out of culinary school? She’s a local who has been in the restaurant business for over twenty years. The Tea House opened two years ago and is getting good reviews.”
“Good, not great?”
Angie shrugged. “Three-star average. Mostly complaints about the food being just okay. I hate judging people on reviews, especially since you don’t know what actually went down that day.”
“Okay, so if our food tonight is bland, then you’ll be more comfortable judging her?”
Angie laughed. “Exactly. I’m an experiential learner. I have to know what’s being said is true because it happened to me.”
“So you burned your hand on the stove when you were a kid.”
“Take that exit to downtown.” Angie pointed to the left, and Ian moved the truck into the correct lane. “I burned it twice. Once, because I thought I’d turned it off and I hadn’t. And once, just to see what my mom was talking about.”
“You must have been a handful as a kid.” Ian took the bend off the main freeway and onto the connector. “I didn’t give my mom anything to worry about until I turned a teenager. I’ve told you that story already. If there was a rule growing up
, I followed it to a tee. I like rules.”
Angie glanced around the too-clean truck cab. “You do have a plan for your life.”
He reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you noticed.”
When they reached the restaurant, Ian eased his truck into a larger spot at the back of the parking lot. As they got out, he glanced around the area. “I should have brought the wagon. It would have fit in these too-small spots better.”
“City rules tell you how many spots you need. If you don’t have the room, you make the spots as small as possible. I didn’t have any parking regulations in California or in River Vista. But the rules that the City of Boise have fill a book. I’m glad I decided to take the risk on having the County Seat out so far.”
“Doesn’t seem to have hurt your business.” They walked to the entrance, where a hostess in a black skirt and a white blouse greeted them.
“Reservation for McNeal,” Ian said in his too-British accent.
Angie thought the girl was going to start panting. She saw her swallow, then study the computer.
“We have a lovely window table overlooking the garden for you.” She picked up menus and led them through the dining room. It was early, and there weren’t many other customers.
As they reached the table, Angie paused, pasting on a large smile as she focused on the girl. “Can you tell your chef that Angie Turner of the County Seat is dining with you tonight? I’d love to talk to Tara if she has a minute.”
“Oh, yes. I’ll be glad to tell her.” She set the menus in front of them. “My boyfriend took me to your restaurant last month for my birthday. I’m studying hospitality management. It was such a lovely evening and a great dinner.”
“So glad you enjoyed. Next time, let me know you’re there and I’ll come out to chat for a minute.” Angie watched as the hostess skittered away toward what Angie assumed was the kitchen. “Either she’ll come out and chat, or send the waitress back saying she’s out of the kitchen tonight.”
“But you think she’s here.” Ian studied the menu.
“Yeah, I do. The hostess would have told us if Tara wasn’t here, right up front. So we’ll see whether she lies.”
They didn’t have to wait long. After the waitress had provided drinks and taken their orders, an older woman in a chef’s coat and a blue beret came out of the kitchen. She looked around the dining room. When her gaze landed on Angie, she put on a smile that didn’t seem genuine and strolled over, holding her outstretched hand in front of her. “Well, Angie Turner. I was going to come over this weekend at the event, but we were so busy. And what a tragic event. I was shocked to hear about Nubbins.”
“I know, right?” Angie stood and shook the woman’s hand. “Tara, this is my boyfriend, Ian McNeal.”
“Tara McKnight. So nice to meet you. Is this your first trip to the Tea House?”
“I’m trying to get around to all the restaurants and meet the chefs, but you know how it is.” Angie pointed out to the patio area. “Is that an herb garden? I have one at my farmhouse, but having it this close to the kitchen would be amazing.”
The two of them chatted about food and gardens and cooking for a few minutes. Then Tara glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to get busy. We’re having a large group from the legislature coming in about seven. They’ll close the place up about eleven, hopefully. I don’t need a long night playing hostess.”
“I hear you. I’m so glad we don’t open until Wednesday. It gives me some downtime and time to play with the amazing product you all have here. I thought, leaving California, I might have to give up my obsession with using fresh, but it’s just different fresh foods.”
As they said their good-byes, Ian picked up his phone, answering a text. He glanced up when Angie sat back down. “Sorry, I needed to take this.”
“You’re on your phone a lot lately.” She worried about him. His job paid little, yet he put in so many hours, basically working for free. “Anything I need to worry about?”
“Like I’m having a torrid affair with Mildred?”
“As long as she continues running the goat farm and dairy so I don’t have to find a new supplier, I guess that’s fine.” Angie checked to make sure that Tara had really returned to the kitchen. “I don’t think she’s involved.”
“Because she has an herb garden and likes talking about cooking?” Ian nodded. “That makes total sense.”
“I know. And it’s just a feeling, but she doesn’t seem to need either the recognition from winning or the money. Do you know what you can charge for a group dinner and use of the room for four hours?” She tapped her spoon on her water glass. “Maybe we should block off a room for private events at the County Seat?”
Their dinners arrived, and they moved their conversation away from their jobs and the case. Ian asked if she wanted to take a drive up to Sun Valley next week. He’d take Monday off, and they could leave when Angie woke up on Sunday.
“I’ll have to ask Erica or Felicia if they’d stay with Dom. He’d eat my entire house if I left him alone that long.”
They turned down dessert, and when the check came, Angie reached for it. “I’ll buy, since this was County Seat research.”
He let her pay, then took her arm as they walked out. “I feel like a kept man.”
“Does that bother you?” She looked up at his face as they made their way out of the dining room.
“Not in the least.”
Felicia and Estebe were waiting outside the Ice Cream Palace on a bench when Ian pulled in to the parking lot. As they got out of the truck and walked over, Ian leaned close. “Now, I didn’t see that one coming at all.”
“The two of them? Honestly, I didn’t either. But I kind of like it.” She sighed. “On the other hand, if the breakup goes bad, I might just lose my sous chef.”
Ian slipped his arm around her waist. “Well, let’s just hope for a long and happy relationship, then.”
They didn’t talk about what they’d learned until they were seated and had their orders in. Felicia leaned in toward the others, her eyes bright with excitement. “I feel like a secret agent. Did you know I was going to go and work for the government after college in one of the investigative areas?”
“And you fell in love with cooking instead?” Ian provided the next line.
“Totally. I took a class with the boy I was dating. Some holiday cooking class, but the instructor was from the culinary department. I fell in love with him.” Felicia grinned as the waitress brought her Court Jester, a peanut and chocolate parfait. Angie had ordered the same thing, knowing if she didn’t, she would be jealous of her friend’s treat. Estebe had two scoops of vanilla, and Ian had a banana split.
Estebe handed her a napkin. “You mean you fell in love with cooking?”
Felicia shook her head. “Nope. The instructor. He was so fine. I changed my major and dumped the boyfriend that winter break. Right after he took me to the last concert we’d planned on attending together.”
“You are a cold, cold woman.” Estebe took a bite of his ice cream. “Just like this treat.”
“Whatever. I was young. Young people do stupid things. And besides, that decision led me here.” She held Estebe’s gaze, then seemed to remember something. She filled her spoon with a mix of the ice cream dessert and pointed it at Angie. “Anyway, I almost forgot. I think we found the killer.”
Chapter 9
“Way to bury the lead.” Ian chuckled. “At least someone got something besides a long discussion on the positives of having an herb garden on-site and larger rooms for private events.”
“Wait, she has a private event room? I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. My yoga group wants to rent out a space for their semiannual luncheons, and I was thinking about that other area where we talked about setting up another storage area, but it’s just filled with boxes right now…?”
“I was thinking the same thing.” Angie leaned closer. “I mean, if we used larger event tables that can be folded up and nice folding chairs, not the cheaper metal ones, we could rent it out for community events as well as banquet dinners.”
“Um, hello? What about the killer?” Ian broke into their conversation just as Angie was pulling out a notebook to start sketching out the area and listing off what they’d need to invest to get it done.
Angie held up a finger, scribbled a couple of notes, and focused on Felicia. “We’ll get together tomorrow to hash this out, but I think it’s a great idea.”
She nodded, her mouth filled with ice cream. When she’d finished her bite, she wiped her lips with a napkin. “Me too. Now, let me tell you about our trip to the Black Angus.”
Angie ate while she listened to Felicia’s story. When they got to the menu, she leaned closer. “What did you order?”
Ian put his hand on her arm. “Does it matter to the story?”
Angie grimaced, then shook her head. “Sorry, go on. You can tell me later.”
“Anyway, as soon as we ordered our steaks and sides, including a version of avocado toast using sourdough and guacamole,” Felicia added, her gaze on Angie, “which was freaking amazing, by the way—the chef came out, Rider James.”
Estebe nodded. “That is exactly how he said it. ‘I’m Rider James, thanks for coming in.’ Then he drooled over Felicia and ignored my existence.”
“Well, not quite, but yeah, he was a little smarmy.” Felicia squeezed Estebe’s shoulder. “He told us all about how he was about to hit it big. That this place was just a hole in the wall on his trip to the big leagues.”
“The restaurant was very well set up. Very nice. A little steakhouse franchise that most chefs would love to manage, at least at the beginning of their career. This guy? He thinks he should be famous.” Estebe shook his head and focused on his ice cream. “It’s like those guys who buy a big motorcycle, when really they should be riding a scooter to learn their balance first.”
