Spoiled Rotten

by Mary Jackman

  “That’s why you went over to the store.”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t see Mr. Tony?”

  “Not exactly. Listen, I wasn’t going through with it, I was just pretending to. My reputation would be on the line if I was caught and I’d never work in the industry again. Tony didn’t care. He was hell-bent on it and I never saw him like that before. I don’t know what got into him, but I was throwing the steaks out and if he tried to stop me I was prepared to fight. Only he didn’t come back out of the store, which was strange, especially with his rear cargo doors open and considering he was already mugged in the alley years ago.”

  “How did you know about that?” I asked.

  “Everyone knew. He was terrified of it happening again. He used to work in his office after everyone had gone home. He counted the receipts for the day and dropped the cash in the bank’s night-deposit box. I guess he thought he could handle himself until one night he was jumped. He was a cocky son of a bitch, shoving people around. He thought he was tough. Whoever it was taught him a lesson. He was found the next morning locked in the trunk of his car. Besides being robbed, he was pretty shaken up. He had an expensive alarm system installed and bought a safe for the office.”

  I reminded him of the restaurant safe and how it was a magnet for thieves. The tension in his eyes eased for a second and he laughed. He knew there was never any money in it. I always borrowed a twenty from one of the staff’s cash envelopes before I left for the day and Daniel had personally loaned me out of pocket a few times.

  Superior Meats would be different. They didn’t take credit cards and had a minimum purchase for debit. I’ve seen a lot of cash exchange hands while waiting to pay for my purchase. Any safe of theirs would be full and consequently a prime target for thieves.”

  “So you loaded your car and then what?”

  “Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones. I walked along the hallway that connected the delivery area to the showroom up front. The overhead lights were off, but the blue fluorescent tubing inside the display case cast a glow, so it wasn’t completely dark. Except for the compressors kicking on and off, the place was deathly quiet. I didn’t want to call out. I can’t explain it, but I was afraid of disturbing someone or something.

  “I found an open carton of packages on the work counter behind the case. The letters W.W. were written across the front of the box. I wondered what it was doing there since I never placed an order that night. I picked up one of the packages and turned it over. A gooey liquid seeped through the paper and covered my hands. When I smelt my fingertips I instantly recognized the odour.” Daniel hesitated.

  “Blood.” I finished his thought.

  “Yes. Lots of it and bright red. I remember being surprised at the colour. It had to be a fresh kill for that texture of blood and I knew Tony didn’t slaughter on the premises. Suddenly I got the feeling I wasn’t alone. There was someone else in the room.”

  I held my breath, waiting.

  “A face was looking at me through the display case. I was scared, but I couldn’t look away.” His breathing had become rapid, his eyes unclear. I waited. We all waited.

  “You know how sometimes you have to focus really hard to understand what you’re seeing?” Daniel continued, “Like the picture doesn’t make sense. I stepped closer and finally understood. The face had been peeled off and the skin stuck on the inside of the glass in its own blood. When my brain finally clicked the image into place, I panicked. I looked around, desperately trying to put it together. Then I saw the severed head sitting on a scale. That did it! I dropped the packages, ran down the hall, and slammed the door behind me. I’ll never forget that narrow screen flashing the weight in pounds and kilos over and over again.”

  I gave him a moment and asked quietly, “Then what did you do?”

  “I drove directly home with the meat in the trunk. I was too scared to do anything else but hop a plane to see my sister. It was awful, such a lot of blood.” Daniel’s hands began to tremble. Meriel put a steadying hand on her brother’s shoulder. Andy reached over and put his hand on mine. Nervously, I withdrew it.

  “Daniel, you weren’t the only one to witness that gruesome scene. Maria D’Agnole found Anthony Vieira’s body when she opened the store in the morning.”

  “Who’s that, their cleaning lady?”

  “You don’t know her? She worked as a sales girl in the store. Young, black hair, very pretty.”

  “No, sorry, I made it a point to stay away from the girls. Tony was bossy and possessive around them, always flirting. I didn’t want to get involved.” Daniel’s eyes drifted away and he began to whine, “I put all the spoiled meat in my trunk. I know it. Something else must have caused the food poisoning. Maybe the eggs were spoiled.”

  “Andy, let’s get one thing straight, okay? It was not food poisoning that caused Albright’s death. He ingested a lethal dose of rat poison that was injected into his steak. The police are calling it a murder, not accidental death. Tony’s wife is in the hospital being monitored as we speak. She ate some, too.”

  Andy stared out the window at the view. I followed his gaze. White caps swelled along a range of mountainous waves.

  “I don’t know anything about rat poison.” Daniel had calmed. Here was a man solaced by the sea. Born and raised in the Maritimes, he would naturally find comfort in the raw elements. He must miss it living in the city. I knew it would be a few days before I returned to normal. It was would be hard to forget such compelling beauty.

  “I warned you to stay away from that man,” his sister spoke suddenly. “You never should have got involved with him in the first place.” What appeared to be a fresh, homemade, double-layered chocolate ganache cake hovered in her hands midway over the table. She was shaking so much I feared she would drop it. A pot of coffee brewed on the stove, filling the air with heavenly aroma and it was all I could do to stay focused on the conversation. My eyes followed the quivering cake with puppy-dog devotion.

  “You hated Tony Vieira,” she said. “In fact, whenever I visited Toronto, you refused to go to the market in case we bumped into him.”

  “All that changed last month when he came around to the back door of Walker’s with a proposition. He wanted to bury the hatchet.” Daniel gulped. “I mean, make things up to me. I was making news in the food industry and he was looking for someone with my talents. He said he had an opportunity I couldn’t turn down. I would be hired to manage the entire food concession for a new spring fair that was opening in the convention centre. I would be executive chef in charge of overseeing menus and ordering. It would be great for my portfolio and the money would be double what I’d make at Walker’s in a month. No offence, Liz.”

  The cake was lowered to the table and placed directly in front of me. Meriel, sensing my inert neediness, cut out a generous wedge and handed me the first piece.

  “No offense taken, Daniel,” I mumbled, waving a loaded fork around, “and none to you, because I would have thought a chef with more experience would be required to head up an operation of that magnitude. There’s a lot more involved than just cooking up pots of soup.”

  He bowed his head. “I’m afraid my ego got the better of me. I should have known it was too good to be true. All the ordering was done through Superior Meats, but I saw nothing wrong in that. I knew he bid out the contract and that’s commonly the practice. With the councillor’s connections, he could be looking at a lot of extra business, high-end corporate affairs that might change the structure of his own supply operations. His wife was something else, though. She constantly egged him on to expand his career. Mrs. Vieira thought it beneath her having a glorified butcher as a husband.”

  Daniel pushed his cake away.

  “Any idea what prompted the binge?”

  “There was gossip. From what I heard that he finally found out his new buddy was having an affair with his wife. I knew something had to be going on. Why else would a guy like Albright be hanging around
the market?”

  “He was the elected spokesperson for the Kensington riding. It was only natural,” I replied.

  “He wasn’t too interested in the community. I have friends who live in the market and according to them, none of the residents’ suggestions or concerns were acted on, and numerous complaints about rising crime and business loss were also ignored. No one understands why he ran for office last term. If his rival hadn’t gotten sick, Albright would have probably lost the election. Even so, he only won by a few votes and that was with full support from Tony.”

  “Did you ever wonder if Tony may have been responsible for the rival’s timely illness?” I asked.

  “After I got to know him better I did.”

  “And why would Albright be ruined and not Tony? Couldn’t the meat be traced back to his company?”

  “He had it all planned. He bought several cases of sirloin from another supplier. By the time the Ontario Food inspectors had completed their analysis and traced the origin, the convention would be over and the damage would be done to the councillor’s good name. It was his responsibility to see that the show ran smoothly. It was his baby. He talked city council into hosting the cattle show in addition to the traditional Royal Winter Fair, which would follow later next season. He volunteered to organize the show to prove his dedication to the project. And if the authorities investigated the source of the problem, which nowadays they most certainly do, then Tony would make sure the finger pointed at Albright.”

  “I didn’t think politicians usually got personally involved with the food handlers. Why would he look bad?”

  “As chairman, Albright was able to grant Superior Meats the contract to supply every food operator in the convention building with product. That included booths, restaurants, and staff meals for four days and three nights. In return, he got a share of the sales commission. Not bad for over a thousand pounds of meat and considering the price per pound Tony would charge, the mark-up would be ample. I don’t think he’d want anyone to know he fixed the contract.”

  “How much money are we talking about?” Andy asked.

  “A lot. Tony’s company would provide bacon and sausages for breakfast, cold cuts, hot dogs, and hamburgers for lunch, plus expensive specialty beef cuts for the big sit-down dinners. At 300 percent mark-up they could split thousands of dollars.”

  “Also,” I added, beginning to agree with his theory, “more important than the money, don’t forget the honorary position Albright held. I’m assuming he would be in attendance for most of the meals and so would the press. If he was starved for publicity, like most politicians, this show was a means to enhance his public figure. He could use the success of the show to gain public support. A lot of dignitaries would be in attendance on the opening morning. Albright’s future was at stake.”

  Daniel hung his head. I didn’t want to push him and looked around the kitchen. Compared to the small, pristine, formal living room he tried to run from earlier, this room was spacious, warm, and well-used. A full pantry was tucked under an old staircase that probably led to the bedrooms upstairs and a wall of dried herbs and flowers filled the shelves of a gigantic yellow painted hutch standing against the wall. The kitchen cupboards and counter were old and needed refinishing, but the appliances were state of the art. An eight-burner Garland double oven stood at one end of the room and a side-by-side, glass-fronted commercial reach-in refrigerator stood kitty-corner to it. This woman liked to cook. Our simple but exquisite meal was proof that she could.

  Finally, I said, “This is serious business. Someone killed Mr. Tony and tried to murder his wife, too.”

  Daniel looked as if he might jump out the front door again.

  “Calm down,” I told him. “Whatever you tell me you are going to have to tell the police. Better organize your thoughts now.”

  chapter six

  * * *

  Andy helped Meriel with the dishes and I helped Daniel pack his bags. Upstairs in his sister’s guest room, he concentrated on the task at hand without looking at me. He had more to tell, I was sure of it. When we returned to the kitchen he asked us all to sit down at the table.

  “Remember Twister’s?” Daniel asked his sister.

  “The first place you worked as chef?” Meriel asked.

  “Yeah, I was taking over for a previous chef who had disappeared without giving notice. I didn’t know that the guy had been buying large orders of beef from Tony Vieira for a kick-back and neither did the owner. First week on the job, I accepted a free prime strip loin, thinking it was a promotional gift. I guess that sounds unbelievably naive, but I was new to Toronto and I’d heard about freebies offered to chefs as giveaways. I didn’t know anybody in the trade. A lot of chefs have their own sources and I needed time to build my own. I thought he was legit.”

  “So what happened?”

  “The owner asked me to order from another supplier because the food cost was too high compared to sales. When he showed me the monthly statement for our meat. I saw we were being overcharged on our deliveries. I told Tony I had to cancel that week’s order and he got nasty. He threatened to tell the boss I’d been accepting bribes.”

  “He attempted to blackmail you?”

  “You can call it that, but I thought he was bluffing and everything seemed fine until a month later when the boss did fire me. I never planned on staying long at Twister’s so it didn’t break my heart — it was more bar scene than dining room. Basically, my job was flipping burgers for drunks. After that I worked in various restaurants and clubs around town with Tony always at my heels. Then he disappeared from my life. A couple of years passed and I got hired at Walker’s Way, only to find out that you bought from his outlet in the market.

  “I was worried about dealing with him, but he never threatened me again. In fact, he seemed to have settled into the role of successful business man instead of a sleazy hustler. I thought I could handle him by now, anyway. I wasn’t a kid and I figured you were too established to take any crap. I loved working at your place, Liz. You appreciated my cooking and I had the hots for you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  Andy slid his chair closer to mine and Daniel continued his story with his sister shaking her head the entire time. This wasn’t helping to improve the atmosphere so I took her hand and smiled.

  “Meriel, I’ve heard of these things happening before. It just takes one rotten apple to spoil the basket.” I felt ridiculous spouting food clichés. I tacked another way. “Let’s try to stick together on this.” I turned to Daniel. “You never mentioned a thing to me about the job at the exhibition.”

  “I tried to tell you a hundred times, but you were always raving about my food and I didn’t want you to think I was abandoning you. I was doing this after my shifts at Walker’s and on my days off. I was going to trade shifts with Michael once the show started. Rick knew all about it and said not to worry you.”

  “Well, I must remember to fire Rick when I get back.”

  “No, come on, Liz. Rick would do anything for you. He said you were preoccupied with a ton of paperwork and didn’t need to know. I said it would only be a couple of days and I’d be back before you missed me.”

  It’s true, I was overwhelmed with figures and cost charts and the feds were breathing down my neck, looking for corporate yearly statements that I hadn’t completed for the last five years. Occasionally chefs moonlight. Catering jobs, television spots, and restaurant openings went hand in hand with making a name for yourself. As long as their shift was covered and no sabotage expected, then I really didn’t mind.

  “Daniel, it’s time we headed home. You can explain the rest to the police.”

  I asked Meriel if I gave her some cash, could I use the phone to call Toronto, but she handed me the phone, dialled the number, and said she wouldn’t take a penny. I finally got a hold of Detective Winn at the number on his business card. I called Rick, too. He answered after five rings. I thought I would have to leave a message when he picked up.

>   “W.W. World Headquarters,” he answered.

  I’ve been listening to that for years and it usually made me laugh, not tonight.

  “Hi Rick, it’s me.”

  “Where are you? That policeman you’re in love with is looking for you.”

  “I am not in love with him. He’s not my type.”

  “Everyone’s your type. Now, where are you?”

  “I’m at Daniel’s sister’s house, here in Nova Scotia.”

  “You didn’t think to tell me you were going on a trip?”

  “I’m sorry, Rick. It was a last-minute decision. I’ll tell me you all about it when I see you. I’m coming home tonight if I can get a flight. Thanks for holding the fort. Gotta go.”

  “No, wait. I’m not finished.”

  “Sorry, I’m not paying for the long distance charges. See you soon, bye.” I dropped the phone before he could say another word. To be honest, I hung up because I didn’t have the strength to pursue the conversation. Rick could be a real mother hen when he wanted to be and no doubt he already had enough on his hands at Walkers without a chef and an absent employer.

  I dropped Daniel and his sister off at a small airfield used for mail and passenger shuttle flights to Halifax. Meriel decided she would accompany her brother to Toronto. I thought it would look better if I flew back with them and delivered Daniel safely to Winn. Andy agreed to return the rental car for me. I tried to board the plane, but it only held six passengers and the seats were filled. The pilot said I could sit in the back with the mail because it was only a short trip and there was an extra seat belt and fold-out chair for emergencies. I peered inside and decided I wasn’t boarding a plane the size of an overcrowded soup can. I’d rather go over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

  Evening was again on top of us as Andy and I retraced our route back along the coastal highway, only this time Andy drove. He steered the Lincoln through fog patches so dense I feared for our lives. Just in case we crashed through a guard rail toward the briny deep, I gripped the door handle tightly ready to jump out in midair. In retrospect, the soup can looked downright appealing.