Getting Skinny (A Chef Landry Mystery)

by Domovitch, Monique

  “I—”

  “You told someone, didn’t you?” she snapped. “I can see it in your eyes. Who did you tell?” The door closed behind her, and she strode toward me.

  “Nobody, I swear.” I raised my right hand, swearing on an invisible Bible. “Not a soul.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” She sounded frantic.

  “I’ve been cooking all morning. Go look in the kitchen if you don’t believe me.”

  “Are you sure you didn’t tell anyone about finding Mona’s body? Not even Kim?” She asked, slightly less anxious.

  “Kim? Why in the world would I tell her? As much as she acts as if she’s a close friend, trust me, she isn’t. I would never confide in her about anything, especially that.”

  The door opened, and Jake walked in with Marley on his heels. “You would never confide especially what?” Jake asked.

  I felt the blood drain from my face. If those two had walked in a second earlier, they would have heard everything.

  At that moment the phone rang and Toni grabbed it. “Kim, so nice to hear from you.” I signaled madly that I wasn’t here. I was so not in the mood to talk to her, but Toni being Toni, did even worse. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you come over? It’s quiet. We’ll have a glass of wine.”

  I rolled my eyes, and as soon as she hung up, I ripped into her. “Now why did you have to go and invite her? I wanted to talk about business. We have to come up with an idea, something that will bring in more customers, and the last thing I want to do is talk about how badly we’re doing in front of her.”

  “I disagree.” Jake cocked his hip. “I think you should discuss it with her. Get her to brainstorm with you. You never know, she might help you come up with some great ideas.”

  Toni looked back at me. “He’s right.” I could read the mischief on her face. “I don’t know why you don’t like her. She’s perfectly nice. Besides, you know what I always say, ‘Three heads are better than two.’”

  I grimaced. “Nobody can massacre a perfectly good saying the way you do. Still, I suppose it isn’t a bad idea.”

  “How many tables are booked for tonight?” Jake headed for the reservations book sitting on the table in front of Toni.

  “Not one single reservation.” Toni handed it to Jake with a sour face.

  “Not one?” Jake repeated in disbelief.

  “That sucks, man.” Marley shook his head, sending his dreadlocks bouncing. He plugged his earphones into his ears and trudged off to the kitchen behind Jake. What the staff would do in there was anyone’s guess. Probably stand around worrying about how much longer their jobs would last.

  Much as I hated to admit it, they had every reason to worry. I only wished my own worries were no more serious than losing my job. Having a murder rap hanging over one’s head sure trumped theirs.

  being rich would be nice

  At ten-thirty, the restaurant was empty except for Kim, Toni and me. No one had walked in all evening. We were sitting at the corner table starting our second bottle of wine.

  “Now that Mona has been killed, it’s pretty obvious she wasn’t Rob’s murderer,” I said, taking a sip of chardonnay.

  Kim still knew nothing about the entire breaking-into-Mona’s-house episode. But of course, she knew I was a suspect in Rob’s murder.

  “I wonder,” she said, looking pensive, “if Rob could have been involved with drugs. It’s not uncommon for doctors. They often have access to unlimited amounts of drugs. It can be tempting, especially for a young doctor with possibly thousands of dollars of debt.”

  I gasped. If Kim could come up with that theory on her own, why hadn’t the police? “If he did, he certainly didn’t tell me.”

  “Anyhow, don’t worry. The police will find out who did it. I’m just thankful you aren’t crazy enough to try to find the killer yourself,” Kim said, looking at me strangely—almost as if she knew something. “Whoever murdered Rob has now killed two people. Imagine how dangerous it would be to go poking around looking for a murderer.”

  “I entirely agree,” Toni said, looking pointedly at me.

  Looking innocent, I said. “I would never do anything like that.” Toni raised her brows. I continued. “But I do worry that as long as I’m a suspect, the police are unlikely to look elsewhere.” I looked at Kim gravely. “I wish there was something I could do. I hate to just let the police railroad me into jail.”

  “She’s right,” Toni said, “innocent people go to jail all the time.”

  I gulped. “Okay, enough about that,” I said, suddenly desperate to change the subject. “Let’s do something constructive instead of sitting around wringing our hands.” I turned to Kim. “Toni and I could use your advice. Business has been slow since we opened. And we need to bring in more customers. Do you have any suggestions?”

  Once, months ago, I’d complained of a headache to Toni, who had quipped that the best cure was a good smack on my thumb with a hammer. “Works every time,” she’d said. Well tonight, talking about the restaurant’s future did just that. Our financial problems were the smack on the thumb I needed to forget about my real headaches—murderers, breakins and being arrested.

  Kim looked surprised. “I thought you were going great guns.”

  I shook my head. “Not by a long shot. We won’t be able to keep this place open much longer unless we start bringing in some business. We wanted to throw a press party, complete with tastings, but decided to wait until the killer is apprehended.”

  Toni added, “All we need is some eager reporter turning our promotional party into an article about the murder.”

  “What about advertising?” Kim looked from Toni to me.

  “We’ve already spent a small fortune on ads in the Toronto Star,” I replied between sips of chardonnay.

  Toni looked at me. “I hope you haven’t poured everything you own into this place.”

  I shook my head. “I still have my rainy-day fund.” There was no point in mentioning that it wouldn’t carry me for more than three or four months, after which I’d have to stop paying the mortgage. And that was without factoring in legal bills. Toni’s financial reality was so different from mine that there was no point in explaining.

  Toni turned to Kim. “How did you build your real estate clientele?”

  Kim tapped a finger on her chin and stared reflectively into space. “I didn’t have two dimes to spend on advertising, so I did the only thing I could. I got on the phone and called everyone I knew. I kept reminding people that I was ready and willing to help.”

  I had an instant image of Kim stalking everyone she knew until she wore them down. I wondered if she would eventually wear me down.

  She continued, “It paid off. Word got around, and I started getting lots of business. There’s no question that word-of-mouth is the best kind of advertising. But it doesn’t work overnight.”

  “We need something that will bring immediate results. Otherwise we’ll need mouth-to-mouth, not word-of-mouth.” Toni lifted her glass and downed it.

  Kim laughed. “What you have to do is come up with an idea. An original idea that will make Skinny’s stand out from other restaurants. Something dramatic, something that will make people take notice.”

  “That’s what we hoped our name, our decor and our great food would do, but it isn’t working,” I retorted, throwing my hands up.

  Toni picked up a menu and read out loud. “Crab cakes, bruschetta, squash ravioli in Asiago sauce…”

  “Oh I love the squash ravioli, but the calories,” Kim said, grimacing. “Otherwise I’d eat it all the time.”

  My mouth dropped open. “That’s it.” I leaped out of my chair as the idea popped into my head.

  “What?” they asked simultaneously.

  “You’ll love this. It’s brilliant.” I leaned forward, both palms on the table. “What we’ve got to do is change the menu.”

  “What!” Toni was shocked and not too happy. “Why on earth would I love that?”

  “Yo
ur menu is lovely,” Kim said. “And all your food is really, really good.”

  “Yes,” I said, “But Skinny’s is just one among hundreds of other restaurants with good food. On the other hand…” I looked from Toni to Kim, making sure I had their attention. “Nobody has a low-cal gourmet restaurant,” I concluded and waited for their reaction.

  They looked at me dubiously.

  I sighed and continued, as if talking to two very dense pupils. “I read a report on the weight-loss industry recently and was blown away by the numbers. Don’t you girls know that it’s one of the biggest in the world?” They stared at me blankly. Clearly these two never had to worry about their figure the way I did. “People are obsessed with their weight, and the business of losing weight has ballooned into a multi-billion-dollar industry.”

  Toni’s jaw dropped. “Multi-billion?”

  I grinned. “I’ve got your attention now, don’t I?” I picked up the bottle of wine and refilled the glasses. “That’s right, and growing by twenty to thirty percent a year.” I crossed my arms. “When was the last time you went to a gourmet low-calorie restaurant?”

  Toni and Kim looked at each other, puzzled.

  “I’ve never even heard of one,” Toni finally replied.

  I threw my arms up in victory. “Now do you get it? Some fine restaurants have a few low calorie options, but a whole menu…nobody has that.” I was on a roll. “I’m telling you, this is a gaping hole in the restaurant industry. That, my friends, means that anyone who opens a low-cal restaurant offering a gourmet menu could get very rich. Wouldn’t it be nice if that someone were us?”

  There was a long silence, punctuated by Toni’s nails tapping on the table.

  I leaned forward. “And with a name like Skinny’s on Queen, we have the perfect marketing opportunity.” I looked at them triumphantly. “We can call the new menu the Skinny Menu, and all the dishes Skinny meals made from Skinny recipes.”

  “But don’t you think the word skinny might have a negative connotation in that sense?” Kim asked.

  “A woman can never be too rich or too thin,” Toni remarked.

  “Oh yes, she can,” I shot back. “I remember the way you used to look. But the idea here is that the recipes will be skinny—lower fat, lower calories. Healthy is in.”

  “I, uh, I guess.” Toni agreed, beginning to accept the idea. “But how are we supposed to come up with good low-calorie dishes? I mean, that would mean no butter, no cream, no cheese, no olive oil. What’s left?”

  “Nicky is a brilliant chef,” Kim said. “She can come up with great recipes. She can probably find dozens of low-fat ingredients to replace those.” Her cell phone went off. “Uh-oh! Time to show another house,” she said, reading the screen. And a moment later, she was racing out the door.

  I turned to Toni. “Since when do agents show houses at this time of night?”

  “For the amount of commission that girl makes, you’d run too, no matter what time a client calls.”

  “I suppose.” I changed the subject. “Now that we’re alone, what do you think of my idea?”

  “I think we can’t waste time thinking about it for too long. If we decide to go low-cal, we have to start right away, while there’s still a restaurant left to save. I think you have a damn good point. If there’s a fortune for someone to make, why shouldn’t it be us?”

  “Being rich would be nice,” I said, sighing. “At least I’d be able to pay my lawyer.”

  this was supposed to be

  a simple case

  Later, I parked behind my house and walked around to the front, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mitchell. For weeks, every time I’d turned around, there he was. But since Jackie’s run-in with the skunk, the man seemed to have disappeared. For some reason, I found this annoying.

  A minute later, I closed the door behind me, fully expecting Jackie to come bouncing down the hall.

  “Jackie,” I called out, walking into the kitchen. There she was, curled up on the mat in front of the sink. Her food bowl, filled this morning, was still full. She hadn’t eaten all day.

  “Jackie, what’s wrong, baby?” She peered at me through drowsy eyes. “Don’t you feel well?” I picked her up gently and cradled her in my arms. Could the skunk smell be making her feel sick? I’d be nauseated, too, if I had to endure that stink twenty-four hours a day. If she wasn’t feeling better by tomorrow, I’d take her to the vet.

  I put her down and opened the back door. She toddled out, and a moment later, she was back. To my relief, when I offered her a liver treat, she gobbled it down in a flash. She obviously wasn’t that sick. With my concern for Jackie appeased, I walked around and opened all the second-floor windows.

  Afterward, I peeled off my clothes and stepped into a steaming shower. As the needles of hot water whipped my body, the tension I’d held inside all day dissolved. Being a suspect in Rob’s murder was bad enough, but now with Mona dead and my fingerprints all over her house, my chances of ending up in jail had just gone way up. I wasn’t sure if I could hold it together anymore. I felt this close to losing it. As Toni had once said, “I’ve worked hard for this nervous breakdown and no one will deprive me of it.”

  After what seemed like an eternity, I felt calmer. I stepped out looking like a shar-pei. But when I climbed into bed, I forgot all about murders and jail, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

  The next morning, Jackie and I had just come back from our walk when the phone rang. I knew who it would be, and my heartbeat went crazy.

  “Nicky?” Steven did not sound happy. “The police are on their way to your house right now.” Before I had time to think, he continued, “You’re damn lucky I still have friends in the department.” The rest I heard through a rushing in my ears. “They want to question you about the murder of Mona Hutson. I’ll meet you at the police station. Now promise me you won’t say anything until I get there.”

  “I—I promise.”

  “Even if they tell you they have evidence, don’t say a word.”

  I nodded silently into the phone.

  “Nicky?”

  “Yes, yes. I mean, no, I won’t say anything.”

  “See you there.” And, click, he was gone.

  Before I could put the phone down, the doorbell rang. Stay calm. I was so nervous, my knees were shaking. I put one foot in front of the other and somehow made it to the door. Don’t panic, I told myself. Steven only said they wanted to question me. An interrogation isn’t so bad. I’ve been through this before. I can handle it. I’ll be home in no time.

  Jackie rushed ahead of me, barking furiously. “Jackie, go!” I ordered sharply, pointing toward the kitchen. She sulked back down the hall.

  I opened the door. Standing there were Sanders and Crawford. Crawford looked like a cat about to pounce on a canary.

  “Would you mind stepping out?” Crawford asked, smiling.

  “Step out?” I asked, confused. No sooner did I pass the threshold than Crawford grabbed my arm and spun me around. He pulled my hands roughly behind my back and snapped a pair of steel handcuffs on my wrists.

  At the same time, Sanders was saying, “Nicky Landry, you’re under arrest for the murder of Mona Hutson.”

  I was dragged, flanked on both sides, to the police car, where I was shoved into the backseat. Twenty minutes later, they escorted me into the police station, this time to another interview room—this one, interview room number five.

  Driscoll came smirking into the room and dropped a file folder on the metal table. “Now you can boast to all your friends that you know this place inside out,” he said sarcastically.

  I glanced away. I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing how frightened I was. Crazy thoughts were running through my mind. I’d be going to jail for murder. I could get the death penalty. They’d hang me by my neck until…then I remembered that Canada didn’t have a death penalty, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But my heart sank again. A life sentence was not much better.

  Dris
coll was speaking. I was about to ask him to repeat his question when I remembered what Steven had told me. “I want to speak to my lawyer,” I said and had the pleasure of seeing Driscoll’s derisive grin melt into a scowl.

  The door swung open and Steven strode in, looking furious, but I couldn’t tell if his anger was aimed at me or at the officer. “I want to confer with my client in private,” he said.

  Driscoll stared at him, deadpan. “Of course you do.” He gathered his notebook. “I look forward to hearing how your client will explain her fingerprints all over the murder scene.” He walked out and closed the door behind him.

  Steven sat and stared at me in silence for a minute, while I squirmed. “When I took you on as a client,” he said at last, “I was sure this would be a simple little case.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Explain to me,” he whispered, “how the hell your fingerprints got all over the crime scene?”

  “I didn’t kill her. I swear.”

  “What the hell were you doing in her house?”

  I felt panic rising and I struggled to quell it. Tell the truth, Toni had said, but just don’t tell them I was there. I answered weakly, “I was looking for a tape.”

  “A tape,” he repeated in disbelief.

  I nodded. “A tape that proves Mona killed Rob,” I explained, managing to dance around Toni’s involvement entirely.

  When I finished, Steven had his arms crossed and was looking at me with outrage. “Of all the stupid stunts. That’s just the kind of thing Toni would do.” He stopped and his face lit in sudden understanding. He gave me a bitter little smile. “Okay, now give me the uncensored version. Toni was in on this, wasn’t she?”

  Oh, shit. Now what was I supposed to say? “I—I…no, not at all,” I stammered.

  “Let me make something perfectly clear. If you want me to represent you, you will not lie to me.” He leaned forward and, when he spoke, each word was excruciatingly enunciated. “If you lie and I find out—” he made a hand-washing gesture, “—you can get yourself another lawyer. Now, let me ask you again. Did Toni have anything to do with this?”