On the Chopping Block (A Callie's Kitchen Mystery Book 1)

by Jenny Kales

  “That’s terrible! I just can’t believe it.” Callie ran the faucet for a glass of water and took a long drink.

  “This is getting crazier by the minute,” Samantha said, sounding exasperated.” Does Lucille’s attacker have anything to do with Drew’s murder? That would make the most sense, but who knows? Or is it a completely separate killer running around Crystal Bay?” Samantha paused and her voice was calmer when she spoke again. “Of course I want you to tell me what you’ve learned, especially if it can clear my favorite suspect. We can meet up and discuss the rest later.”

  “OK. Just let me interject something I forgot to tell you yesterday. I found out that Drew had financial problems and guess who let me know about it? Lucille. Jane Willoughby is not herself – in fact she seems pretty depressed and out of it. Plus, she doesn’t really like Lucille. There’s more, but let’s wait until we see each other. But forget about all of that for now – is Lucille going to be OK?”

  “I haven’t spoken to anyone at the hospital – family members only. But we can visit her at home at some point, maybe once she’s released.”

  “What time did this happen?” Callie asked. “I was at Bodies by the Bay yesterday morning for the first time in months.”

  “Lucille was attacked late last night. She went to Lakeside in the early evening and worked out for an hour. The place closes at 9 but they start clearing the customers at around 8:45. The staff is limited by 8:00 pm. According to workers, the pool area was clear – no one was even swimming laps. It is getting colder outside. I wouldn’t feel much like swimming.” Samantha snorted before continuing.

  “Anyway, Lucille said she was in the whirlpool after her workout and the next thing she knew she was being dragged out with a massive bump on her head and a splitting headache. It looks like somebody hit her and tried to drown her but was interrupted before they could finish the deed.”

  “But someone must have seen something!” Callie protested. “If there weren’t any people in the pool area then whoever did this must have been visible!”

  “I did speak to one of the workers there this morning. They weren’t letting anyone inside, of course, since it’s a crime scene. Still, plenty of people were milling around outside. The person I spoke with told me – I think her name was Piper – told me that when Lucille got bonked on the head, the workers were already beginning to clear out the locker rooms and were on their cleaning rounds. It was the end of the evening, the place was nearly empty and nobody was really paying attention.”

  Piper again. She seemed to know quite a lot about the fitness center for a part-time worker. Still, what she had told Sam seemed plausible. Callie remembered that there were no lifeguards at the indoor pool – one reason that she always accompanied Olivia to any parties her classmates had there when she was very young.

  “What about security cameras?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen any in there. Maybe.”

  Callie thought for a minute. “Why don’t you come over tonight?” she asked her friend. “I feel funny talking about this at work.” As they were speaking, Callie had felt that same prickle of fear on the back of her neck that she had when going to her car the other night, as if she was being watched.

  “Let’s see,” Samantha said, and Callie could hear her tapping on her smart phone. “I’ve got a late client. But I can stop by your house after work at around 8:30 if that’s OK. Maybe I’ll even have some more info for you by then.”

  “Fine by me. I’m asking George and Viv to dinner. Let’s not share this news about Lucille in front of Olivia. She seems OK regarding Drew’s murder, but now this? I don’t want to push it.”

  “I won’t say a word,” Sam said. “I don’t really feel like dwelling on it either.”

  Callie decided to change to a better subject – food. “We’re having dinner courtesy of Callie’s Kitchen. I’m going straight for my own wares tonight — no extra cooking for me. Anything special you’d like?”

  “I probably won’t make it for dinner, but I wouldn’t pass up some dessert. How about those Greek cookies you make – with the powdered sugar.”

  “Kourabiethes? I’ll bring home two dozen – they’re small.” Sam chuckled and rang off.

  Callie put her head in her hands after she hung up the phone. Hugh was right, unfortunately. Olivia would be safer with him right now. She had always prided herself on being able to provide a good home for her daughter, with lots of loving family around her. With a killer on the loose – maybe two killers and one of them possibly gunning for her, she was forced to admit that Olivia might be in danger, too.

  A tap on her shoulder made her jump.

  “Sorry.” Max looked sheepishly at Callie from underneath his spiky haircut. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Callie put her hand on her heart. “Where did you come from? You’re not on the schedule.”

  “I know. I came by to thank you.” Max’s eyebrow ring lifted as he offered Callie a broad grin that crinkled his eyes to slits.

  “Thank me for what?” Callie finished blowing her nose on the tissue and then walked to her hand-washing sink, Max on her heels.

  “I heard you offered my friend Piper some work at the shop. She’s so excited! I know she’ll do great work.” Max leaned against the counter and folded his colorfully tattooed forearms.

  “Word travels fast.” Callie observed, drying her hands and tossing her paper towel in the trash. “Piper seems like a smart young woman. And by the way, she even helped me on the treadmill. Offering her some work was the least I could do for preventing me from flying off the machine.”

  “Yeah, she told me that you’d met. I was in the area so I thought I’d stop by and say thanks. Hey, I also wanted to let you know that it looks like somebody is inside Drew’s bistro. It’s still closed but I saw some movement in there.”

  Seize the day, Callie told herself. This was her chance to check out Drew’s bistro. She was desperate for a look inside – maybe she could find something to help her lose her suspect status.

  “Max, would you mind keeping an eye on my food – and an eye out for any customers, should they arrive.” Callie was already removing her kitchen apron.

  “Sure,” Max said, uncertainly. “Is everything all right?”

  A plan was formulating in Callie’s mind. “Not exactly. I’ll tell you all about it later.”

  Max gave her a knowing look. “Gotcha. No problem, go ahead. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  Eleven

  Callie ducked out the back door and headed down Garden Street towards Drew’s bistro, elegantly named “Drew.” It used to bother Callie that there was no apostrophe “s” – it seemed an affectation. But Drew was adamant and thought that the name of his restaurant struck just the right note. She felt sad once again when she thought of all of Drew’s plans and hard work dashed by a crazed killer.

  Caught in her own thoughts, Callie was startled when she looked up and saw she was standing in front of “Drew.” The signage was written in tasteful script on the bistro’s front window. That window had been a coveted spot among couples on a date. Callie and Drew had sat there a few times and received excellent service and curious glances, something they’d joked about at the time.

  Putting those memories out of her mind for the time being, Callie peered in the front window. She thought she saw a large figure moving around inside the building. She had a strong suspicion as to who it could be – but what was he doing there if the restaurant was closed?

  Callie decided to walk around the back door to the kitchen delivery entrance. She really didn’t want anyone to see her going into the restaurant. “Chef!” she called, banging on the steel door. “Are you there?”

  After several minutes, the door was opened by a harassed-looking man in his late thirties: Chef Johan. Callie remembered him from previous visits, rosy-faced and smiling, his large, meaty hands presenting an elegant plate of food while she and Drew beamed at each other.

  Now, the c
hef’s sandy brown curls were in disarray. His impressive belly strained the front of his blue work shirt and Callie noticed large circles of sweat underneath his armpits. At 6 foot 4, he loomed over her. Callie remembered Drew telling her that Johan was from a long line of German Wisconsinites, which accounted for his large size – and his name.

  “Yes? What are you doing here – Callie, is it? What do you want?” Johan all but growled.

  “I lost a key to my shop and I’m retracing my steps.” Callie fibbed, looking up at the chef, smiling sweetly. “May I come in and look for it? Drew might have had it in his office.”

  The chef eyed her for a minute and ushered her in, quickly closing the door behind them. Callie noticed that the dark circles under his eyes were deep. Was no one in Crystal Bay sleeping anymore? The whole town should do a commercial for a sleep aid.

  “I’m not even supposed to be in here,” Johan confessed, “So hurry up! We’ve got to get out of here, soon.” He looked at Callie with disgust. “Your boyfriend was a crook. He hasn’t paid me in two months! I’m clearing out my things and getting out of here for good. I don’t care if this place never opens again. If it does, it will be without me.”

  Callie went for sympathy, anything to get him talking so that she could stay. “Johan, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Right. Someone was funneling money his way but he wasn’t giving it to me.” He peered at her more closely. “Are you rich or something?”

  “Not exactly.” The understatement of the year. “I wasn’t giving him money. My business has barely been surviving and I’ve got a daughter to take care of.” Not to mention a demanding Yorkie. “What are you talking about?”

  “You really don’t know?” Johan sighed. “Some investor. Sorry, I didn’t really think it was you. I know your story. We all know each other’s stories in Crystal Bay, right?” Johan rolled his eyes. Callie realized she knew less of people’s stories than she had previously believed, but she allowed Johan to continue his rant. “As you probably know, he was a hot commodity with the ladies.”

  Callie felt her color rise but kept her voice calm. “Truly, it doesn’t matter to me, Johan,” she replied. Inwardly, she was stung. How many women was Drew seeing and was she truly the only one who didn’t know details? And by the way, Callie hated it when guys referred to women as “the ladies.”

  The arrogant chef had irritated her enough that she forgot about his intimidating manner and size. “Did you ever see him with anyone specific?” she persisted.

  “Oh, you know,” Johan said walking briskly into the kitchen. Callie followed, taking two strides for each one of his. “He had women to dinner here sometimes, but usually in groups. Last week The Chamber of Commerce was here for lunch. Jane Willoughby was here and that lady who runs the chocolate shop. Minette, that’s it.”

  The chef stopped and stared up at the ceiling. “Let’s see, who else? A few other women who I think were from Crystal Bay College, and that rich older woman who lives near the water.”

  “Mrs. DeWitt?” Callie asked.

  “Yeah, I think that was the name. Maybe she was his investor.”

  “Then there might have been a conflict of interest,” Callie said slowly, trying to digest the information Johan was flinging her way. “She was one of the prime financial backers for The Taste of Crystal Bay, for goodness sakes.”

  “Is that right? What planet do you live on? Everybody you know is honest and above board? It must be nice!” The chef wiped his sweaty red face with a dish towel and threw it back on the countertop.

  Callie laughed lightly, hoping to diffuse his anger. “Not at all, I’m just surprised to hear that about Mrs. DeWitt. If you’ll let me into Drew’s office, I’ll be out of your hair in few minutes.”

  The chef grumbled to himself as he took a big ring of keys off of a hook and walked with a heavy tread toward the office. “If you left your shop key here, you’re lucky that Drew didn’t break in and steal all of the cash from your register. Good luck!” Turning the key into the lock, he flung open the office door. Callie sped inside before the disgruntled chef could change his mind.

  Once she was alone, Callie opened the pack of rubber gloves she had brought with her and put them on. She didn’t want to leave her fingerprints for the police to find and misconstrue. Ironically, the more she had to prove she wasn’t a criminal, the more she had to behave like one.

  Quickly and quietly, Callie opened each drawer. Nothing. No laptop on Drew’s desk, either. Carefully, she looked in each drawer and each nook and cranny in his office as best she could. Still nothing. The police must have taken the computer. Or maybe the killer had this computer, too.

  Drew’s office was as clean and neat as his home. He had a few decorations, including a small Eiffel Tower on his desk, probably in tribute to the French bistro cooking that showed up on the menu at the restaurant. A few odds and ends, some sticky notes but nothing much else was left on the desk. Drew was as tidy here as he was at home.

  Surely the police had already been here, so what was left for her to find? Realizing that time was short, Callie racked her brain and suddenly she remembered how she helped Olivia find things she thought she had “lost.” Her daughter spent a lot of time sitting on the floor reading or working on art projects, so things always wound up under her bed or dresser.

  It was worth a try. Callie crouched down and started peering underneath the desk and cabinets. She saw some dust but not much else. The police had obviously been thorough in their search. Not ready to give up, she decided to sweep the room again. She pushed at the bookshelves and opened the desk drawers as quickly as she could, but found nothing of interest.

  Well, that was that. Callie was ready to leave when the realities of the situation suddenly hit her once again. Drew’s presence seemed to be everywhere, from his desk décor to the many books he kept in his shelves. She was bemused to see that Drew had a sizable French cookbook collection, including some wonderful vintage titles. Callie picked up an old book on French patisserie, blinking back tears as she thought of Drew’s passions and talents, now wasted. The tears came faster and she decided to prop the book open on his desk while she searched for a tissue.

  As she reached into her purse, she spotted a printed book plate that read: “To Drew: With Love, from Kitty.”

  Kitty?

  Suddenly, the sound of raised voices made her look up.

  “That jerk wasn’t killed by a chef,” Johan was saying. Loudly. Callie stepped up to the door and listened. “You’re not accusing me, are you? Whoever did it can’t have been a chef.” Oh no, Callie thought. Was that who she thought it was?

  “Calm down, friend,” came a familiar voice. Detective Sands. Callie felt sick. What was he going to do when he found her here? She looked around for an escape route, but there was none. Carefully she opened the door a crack and peeked out, straining to hear their conversation.

  “I’ll tell you exactly what I told the police the first time they came around the question me,” Johan said. His rosy cheeks were turning a decidedly unhealthy shade of purple.

  Callie saw Sands take a small step back, but Johan pushed his face into the detective’s nose, his wholesome features taking on a frightening leer. “No chef would disrespect his tools in that way. No respectable chef would use his chef’s knife to kill someone. Our knives are sacred. We’d find another way. Personally, I would have beaten the crap out of him.”

  The chef took a step back and Callie watched Sands carefully. He looked disappointed, like he’d have loved a reason to book the angry chef. The Angry Chef – it sounded like a show on The Food Network.

  Callie decided the only way out of this mess was to stick to her original story. Rearranging her features into what she hoped would pass for a calm expression, she sailed out of Drew’s office cheerily. “Thanks, I couldn’t find my key,” she said, then feigned surprise when she saw Sands. “Why, Detective. What are you doing here?” Miss Innocent.

  Sands coc
ked his head to the side. “Well, well. I’m sure I’d like you to answer the same question. I’m running a murder investigation. You must know you don’t belong here, so whatever could your excuse be?”

  She smiled as graciously as she could. “I’m just leaving. I was looking for an extra key to my business. Drew had a spare and I thought maybe it was still here.” She looked at Johan who was eyeing her and Sands, a smirk on his face. “I didn’t find it though.” She nodded at Johan. “I appreciate your letting me in.”

  He grunted. “No problem. I was just leaving, too.” Both he and Callie made for the door but Sands’ sardonic laugher cut through the air as he stepped in front of them.

  “Not so fast, you two. Ms. Costas, do I need to remind you that this is a very serious matter indeed. No more poking around offices where you don’t belong. Johan – I’ve not ruled you out either. If I catch the two of you in here again, I’ll let you both have a nice overnight stay at the Crystal Bay police station.” Johan rolled his eyes, but Callie simply nodded at Sands. “You’re absolutely right, Detective. You won’t see me again.”

  Sands looked like he wanted to say more but just then, his phone rang. He looked at the two of them. “I’ve got to take this. Ms. Costas, meet me outside in a moment. I’m going to make sure that you leave the premises. Chef, we’ll speak more later.”

  “I can’t wait,” Johan retorted as Sands walked toward the dining room. He stayed there, facing the kitchen, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “Tell you what,” Johan said, and started back to an area of the kitchen that wasn’t visible from the dining room. “Come on,” he said when Callie hesitated. With a glance at Sands, she followed him and watched as he reached to the top of a tall kitchen cabinet. “I’m really sorry I snapped at you like that before.”