Trimmed to Death

by Nancy J. Cohen

  “So you did get a hit?”

  “Yes, for a woman named Theresa Mendez.”

  “Did you look her up?”

  “She’s a ghost who vanished. We can’t find a trace of her anywhere.”

  Marla tilted her head. “You said the same thing about Raquel’s early background. We should get a set of her prints for you to run through the database.”

  Brianna poked her. “I have an idea. Call Raquel and tell her I have a school project and would like to interview her. Plus, I’ve always wanted to see a TV studio behind the scenes. Can she meet us for a quick tour and chat?”

  “I can give her a call, but I don’t think you should come,” Marla said.

  “You’re not leaving me behind. Besides, I’m your excuse for the visit. I can distract Raquel with my questions while you grab an item from her set kitchen that might have her prints.”

  “We’d have to take your car,” Dalton said to Marla without actually accepting Brianna’s proposal. “My driver’s side window is sticking. I need to take it in to the dealer.”

  “Okay, but Raquel may refuse to see us since today is Sunday.”

  However, the celebrity chef surprised her. “I’d planned to go into the studio anyway to do my prep work for tomorrow’s show. Wouldn’t you rather get VIP tickets to sit in the audience during a live demonstration?”

  “Brianna will be in school then,” Marla told her on the phone.

  “What’s the subject of her report again?”

  “Successful women and how they achieved their dreams.”

  “How lovely. I’m doing a practice run of my recipes for the show. I’ll give you a taste. See you soon.”

  Dalton wagged his finger at Brianna. “You won’t get near her, understand? Once you meet the woman and ask her a few sample questions, find a reason to go outside and wait for us there.”

  “I know the drill, Dad. I’ll be safe.”

  “If you think this isn’t a good idea, we’ll stay home,” Marla said. “You can call your team for backup and look around the set yourself.”

  “Then I’d have to get a warrant, and I don’t have probable cause. Raquel may have hidden her past, but that doesn’t mean she’s guilty of murder. Lots of people have secrets. In my opinion, Tony Winters has more at stake.”

  “You might think so, but the person who threw that rock at our house was a woman.”

  Marla let the dogs out again before she and her family tumbled into the car for the morning’s excursion.

  “Hey, what’s this?” Brianna called from the backseat once they were underway.

  Marla glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, that’s the album I took from Francine’s office. I meant to look through it and forgot I had it there. We can examine it together once we’re home. By the way, did you finish your report for physics class? I should have asked before we left the house.”

  “It’s done. I still have to read through my history chapter. That’s the most boring subject.”

  Dalton’s brow creased. “You should pay more attention to what you learn. The lessons of the past influence our present and affect the future.” A fan of world history, he began a lecture of his own that ended when they arrived at their destination.

  Raquel was already at work on the kitchen set, an apron tied around her khakis and blouse. Her assistant, Carlos, stood by the sink. The thin-faced fellow had a besotted expression on his face as he observed the chef. Marla was surprised to see him there on a weekend, but maybe his relationship to Raquel went beyond a professional one.

  Raquel grimaced at the sight of Dalton accompanying them. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Detective,” she said while dicing peeled shallots on a wooden cutting board.

  “I’d hoped to get a glimpse of what you do behind the scenes. What are you preparing?” He spoke in an amiable tone and sauntered forward, seemingly at ease in his jeans and sport shirt. He didn’t show a visible gun but Marla knew he kept one at his ankle.

  “Tomorrow’s menu is a tasty mushroom pie for the starter, followed by chicken en papillote with parmesan potatoes and buttered asparagus, and apple ginger tarts for dessert.”

  “Do you give out recipes to the audience members?” Brianna asked, taking out the notebook she’d brought along to play her part.

  “You must be Brianna. I’m honored you’ve chosen me as the subject of your report. To answer your question, our recipes are available online at the network’s website.”

  “So your entire kitchen is usable? It isn’t just a set for the TV show?”

  “All of our appliances are real, child.” She nodded a greeting to Marla. “Nice to see you again. Becky told me about your fundraiser. It’s generous of you to offer your salon to help raise money for the history museum.”

  “I’m happy to support them.” Marla stood to the side where she had a good view of Raquel’s preparations.

  “When did you realize you wanted to become a chef?” Brianna asked, pen poised above her notebook. She looked very studious with a serious expression on her young face.

  Raquel scooped the chopped shallots into a small bowl. “I’d always liked cooking. It seemed a good path to take. And I’d get college credit for attending culinary school.”

  “Did you get your training right after high school?”

  “No, I did various jobs to earn the money for tuition.”

  Brianna coughed. “I’m sorry; could I get a glass of water, please?”

  “Of course.” Raquel wiped her hands on a dishtowel and turned to the sink. She filled a glass and handed it to Brianna.

  “Thanks,” the teen said, appearing to take a sip as she turned away. Her father stood in the shadows, out of reach from the studio lights.

  Marla, gathering Brianna’s intent to pawn off the glass to her dad to bag as evidence, jumped into the conversational foray.

  “What did those earlier jobs entail, Raquel?” She watched as the chef withdrew a set of packaged deep dish pie crusts from the fridge. So what Alyce had said was true. Raquel wasn’t making her own pie crusts from scratch. These were store-bought items. A couple of containers of pre-sliced mushrooms followed.

  “Oh dear, I forgot to replace the egg substitute, and we’re all out of fresh eggs.” She sidled over to Carlos and patted his arm. “Darling, would you mind running to the store for me and getting a carton of egg whites? I forgot to give Ted a list of items to buy. We could also use some regular eggs as well as vanilla yogurt for the dessert.”

  Carlos frowned as she mentioned the producer’s name, but he gave a sullen nod and disappeared.

  “I worked in a number of kitchens to gain experience,” Raquel said in response to Marla’s question. She shaped one of the defrosted pie crusts into a glass dish.

  Marla watched her technique as she sautéed the mushrooms along with the diced shallots. A delicious aroma entered her nose. When the vegetables were wilted, Raquel removed the skillet from the burner, turned off the heat, and mixed in two different grated cheeses. Then she spooned the mixture into the pie crust and folded the other crust on top.

  “Where’s your stepdaughter? She’s missing the demo. I’m done with the starter course until Carlos brings me the egg whites to brush over the top.”

  “Here I am,” Brianna replied in a bright tone. “I want to see how you fix the chicken.”

  “Before I start putting a dish together, I get all the ingredients ready.” Raquel bustled around the set as she gathered items for the main entrée. Her face flushed, and Marla couldn’t tell if she was pleased or annoyed by having visitors.

  Marla drew Brianna aside. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be waiting outdoors. Did your dad get any prints off that glass?” He’d remembered to bring along a fingerprint kit. They could leave once they’d accomplished their purpose.

  “I don’t know. He’s busy right now. Look, I brought you something you’ll want to see.” Brianna led her to the darkened audience section. She pointed to the album from the car, whic
h she’d placed on an empty seat.

  “Where’s your father? What is keeping him so busy that he can’t join us?”

  Brianna made an impatient gesture. “He saw a white car parked nearby and wanted to run the plate. Then he noticed Raquel’s assistant heading that way. Dad went over to talk to him. He told me to go back inside. Take a look at that book, will you?”

  Marla lifted the heavy album and opened the pages. As she’d noted earlier, they contained a collection of articles relating to the death of a toddler at an unlicensed day care center in South Miami.

  “Do you see the resemblance?” Brianna said, indicating the photos. “The owner looks like a younger version of Raquel.”

  A jolt of recognition hit Marla as she studied the faded pictures. The story Karen at Salon Style had told her was true except for one fact. According to these articles, the proprietor’s name was Theresa Mendez. Did that mean Raquel and Theresa were one and the same person?

  “Go outside and tell your father to get in here,” she said to Brianna. “This confirms my theory about why Raquel might have wanted Francine out of the way.” She waited until the teen had vanished into the shadows before approaching the kitchen set.

  “Did any of your early positions involve running a day care center?” Marla asked the chef in a casual tone.

  Raquel, back at the work counter, gave her a startled glance. “Why do you say that?”

  “Francine had a younger sister who died at one of those places. It turns out the owner had taken some of the children home but had forgotten the last kid. She left her in the van in the middle of summer. The poor toddler died. When the police investigated, they found the place’s business license had lapsed. The proprietor vanished before she could be held accountable.”

  Raquel’s complexion turned the color of pastry crust. “Where did you get this information?”

  “Francine kept an album filled with articles about that incident. The proprietor looks like a younger version of yourself. However, her name was Theresa Mendez. You got married after this tragedy happened, didn’t you? And you took on your husband’s last name of Hayes.”

  Raquel sneered at her. “I thought you might figure things out. That’s why I threw the rock at your front door. I’d meant to warn you off, you stupid snoop.”

  “Francine caught onto you, didn’t she?”

  “The magazine publisher saw me on TV and thought I looked familiar. She confronted me at the farm festival and threatened to expose my past. If I wanted her to keep silent, I’d have to make sure she won the competition.”

  “Is that what you meant when you said she wouldn’t win despite her threats?”

  “I didn’t trust her. She might still publish her story and ruin the reputation it took me years to build. You won’t get the chance to tell what you know, either.”

  Raquel opened a drawer and withdrew a butcher knife. She turned toward Marla, the blade in her hand and a murderous look in her eyes.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “What happened to the child in the van?” Marla asked in an attempt to distract the chef. “It must have been an accident. You’d forgotten about her, hadn’t you?”

  A sad expression washed over Raquel’s face. “I took kids into my home to earn money for culinary school. It’s not as though I didn’t care about them. I gave each child my personal attention. And yet, that day I was distraught. My boyfriend had just dumped me. The little girl was in the back of the van, and I thought I’d unloaded everyone. I went inside my house and was doing laundry when I suddenly wondered if I’d dropped her off. I ran outdoors but it was too late. Temperatures were in the mid-nineties. The kid couldn’t breathe.”

  “So you called for help?”

  “I dialed nine-one-one, but nothing could save the child by then.”

  “The toddler’s family must have been devastated.” Marla backed away, noting the mad gleam in her opponent’s eyes as Raquel advanced, knife in hand.

  “It didn’t matter that she’d been adopted like her older sister. I’d gathered the parents couldn’t have children of their own. They threatened to sue me for wrongful death, harmful neglect, not having a valid license to operate a business, or anything else they could throw my way. I closed the center and disappeared before they could serve papers.”

  “You were scared. It’s understandable,” Marla said in a soothing tone. What was keeping Dalton from joining her? Brianna wasn’t anywhere in sight, either.

  “If I were lucky, I might have gotten off with a fine and probation. Or I could have faced a jail sentence. Either way, it would ruin my chances to get into cooking school. The best choice was to go off the grid and figure out how to change my identity.”

  “You should have accepted responsibility. That would have made it easier for you to move forward. I experienced my own tragedy when I was a teenager. A toddler in my care as a babysitter drowned in a backyard pool. It took me years to get over my guilt and sorrow.”

  “But you weren’t threatened with jail, were you?”

  “It was deemed an accident, but the parents tried to sue me. I did some unsavory things to earn money to pay a lawyer. Over time, I regained my confidence enough to go to beauty school and move on. My efforts failed to keep my past under wraps. Secrets like ours will surface to haunt you no matter how hard you try to hide them. It’s best to come clean when you can.”

  Raquel took a few steps closer. “I prefer to bury my past. I worked as a housekeeper for a while and took cash only as payment. Nobody does a background check on their maid. You’re just happy to have someone to clean your house. It wasn’t easy. I couldn’t use my credit cards for fear the authorities would track me. I sublet an apartment and paid my rent in cash. I felt like a fugitive.”

  You were then, and you are now, Marla thought. “Who’s Theresa Mendez?” she asked.

  “That’s my maiden name. Theresa Raquel Mendez. When I got married, I took on my husband’s name and became Raquel, and that was the beginning of my new career. I worked my way up through various restaurant kitchens until I had the money and credentials for culinary school.”

  “You must have been upset when Francine recognized you. Had you ever met in person before?”

  Raquel ran her finger along the knife’s edge as though caressing the blade. “I’d seen her when the parents dropped off their younger daughter at my place. Francine was in kindergarten that year.”

  “Why don’t you put the knife down, Raquel? The child’s death happened years ago. You don’t want to hurt me over it now.”

  Raquel cackled. “Like it’s going to matter. I have too much blood on my hands already.”

  “Is that why you followed Francine into the field that day? You were afraid she’d expose your true identity?”

  “I couldn’t let it happen. I’d worked hard to train as a chef and earned my rewards through sweat and grime. I wasn’t about to let Francine destroy all I’d accomplished. That’s what ruined my marriage. Barney discovered my secret and couldn’t live a life based on lies. And now Francine threatened to destroy everything else I held dear.”

  “So you sneaked after her to the fields where she went to hide for the Find Franny game?”

  “No, I asked her to meet me there to discuss our options. In addition to persuading the other judges to vote for her entry at the bake-off, I’d give her a tidy sum that would allow her to buy her magazine. You see, she’d told me why she wanted the prize money. The stupid woman was waiting for me when I smacked her on the head from behind.”

  “Where did you get the shovel?”

  “I found it in one of the sheds. No one will ruin the life I’ve made for myself and my daughter. If my ex got the chance, he’d sue for custody. I won’t let you destroy our family.”

  She raised her hand holding the knife. Marla wanted to search the shadows to see if Dalton was listening and biding his time. He’d have his weapon out by now.

  “What about Alyce?” she asked for his benefit, if indeed he
was waiting in the wings to make his move. Too bad she hadn’t thought to record this conversation on her cell phone.

  “Alyce was an annoying pest who kept buzzing me like a hornet. She had the nerve to accuse me of sleeping with the producer to get my TV spot. So what if I did? My shows get high ratings. I make sure they’re entertaining as well as educational. I’ve finally discovered my calling.”

  Marla pointed to the discarded pie crust package. “Alyce also said you took shortcuts off-stage, and that you tricked the audience into believing you made everything from scratch.”

  “Sure, I might use a cake mix or a can of beef broth instead of homemade stock, but that’s merely for expediency. We have to make a large amount of food so everyone can have a taste. On the air, I make the dishes properly to show how it’s done.”

  “Did Alyce discover your past as well?” Marla asked, wanting to know if Raquel had been responsible for the hit-and-run.

  “She dug too deep, the nasty little worm. So I asked Carlos to get rid of her for me. He’ll do anything I ask, the sweet man. But he’s not here now. I’ll have to take care of you myself.”

  Marla heard a gasp from the shadows. No, that couldn’t be Brianna, could it? She should have stayed outside.

  Raquel lifted the knife and lunged forward. Marla sidestepped her and ran toward the kitchen, meaning to draw her away from the wings. Her gaze swung to a bowl of vegetables on the counter. Before Raquel could reach her, Marla grabbed an onion and tossed it at the chef. Raquel dodged the missile and plunged after her.

  “Don’t make a mistake you’ll regret,” Marla cried. “My husband called for backup. He might be able to make a deal for a lesser prison sentence if you put the knife down.”

  Raquel moved forward, her mouth thinned and her eyes determined. From the corner of her eye, Marla noted Brianna dashing around the woman and onto the kitchen set.

  As Raquel lunged at Marla again, Brianna whacked her on the head from behind with a heavy frypan. Raquel’s limp hand dropped the knife as she slid to the floor.