Getting Skinny (A Chef Landry Mystery)

by Domovitch, Monique

  At that moment, one lonely lounge lizard was leaning against the bar along the far wall. He gave Toni and me the up-and-down with a suggestive leer. Toni, city chic in a zebra-print silk top and shrink-wrap-tight black capri pants, gave him a haughty stare, willing him to turn away.

  “God knows I love men, but puh-lease, save me from barflies.” She arranged herself into one of the plush chairs. “He, on the other hand,” she drawled, channeling a Southern belle, “is divine.”

  I turned and found myself looking at Mitchell, my neighbor, who was watching me with an amused expression.

  “I guess,” I replied, noncommittal.

  Mitchell grinned and waved. I felt myself blushing as I smiled back self-consciously.

  Toni tossed back her hair and sent him a come-hither look. “Oh, he is cute. I like a man who looks like a man,” she said, then stopped and squinted. “Isn’t that…”

  “Yes,” I replied, grudgingly. “That’s my neighbor.”

  “Mmm-mmm. Now that is a yummy neighbor. I only caught a glimpse of him once, and I’d almost forgotten how good-looking he is.” She looked back at me, her eyes alight. “He’s trying to get your attention,” she whispered. “Why aren’t you flirting back?”

  “Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

  She gazed at me with delight. “Why, I believe you like the man.”

  “Absolutely not. I mean, he’s nice enough. I’m grateful to him for helping me search for Jackie.”

  Toni waved away my objections with a knowing smile. “As Shakespeare said, ‘The lady doth protest too much.’”

  Before I could retort, the waiter materialized with a bowl of cashews, which he set in front of me. He must have recalled that I devoured two full bowls the last time I was here. Then I remembered that Rob had been with me that night, and a wave of sadness swept over me. Guess the grieving wasn’t as finished as I’d thought.

  “And what can I get you ladies?” he asked with a flourish.

  Toni made a big production of thinking it over. “Bring over a pitcher of sour-apple martinis,” she ordered, grandly.

  “A pitcher?” he repeated, surprised.

  “She means a shaker,” I explained.

  “Very good,” he said and started to walk away.

  “Hold on a second,” Toni called out after him. She turned to me. “Nicky, what would you like?”

  The waiter caught the amusement in my eyes and played along. “Should I make that two pitchers, ladies? Or would you prefer buckets?”

  “Buckets, by all means.” Toni laughed. “Everybody knows that alcohol is a great preservative. I plan to preserve my looks for as long as I can.” At the waiter’s look of confusion, she explained. “I’m talking science here. Cherries preserved in port last forever, so—”

  “Don’t listen to my friend. She’s a lush,” I said. “One shaker. Two glasses.”

  “Wise decision.” He smiled and walked away.

  Toni turned to me. “Speaking of preserving one’s looks, you’re looking mighty fine today. Better than I’ve seen you look in a long time. I like that outfit on you.”

  “This?” I looked down at myself in surprise. I was wearing a pistachio linen dress I hadn’t worn since last year.

  “Does that have anything to do with that cute neighbor?”

  “No, of course not,” I answered quickly. “It’s only because I’ve been sleeping better.”

  “Ah, yes, sleeping.” She winked at me.

  “Toni, stop it.” Much to my embarrassment, I felt myself blushing. I darted a quick glance toward the bar, and to my relief, Mitchell was looking away. Beet red was not my shade. The best defense being a good offense, I went for it. “Actually, while we’re on the subject of sleeping—” I used my eyebrows to punctuate the word, “—care to tell me what’s going on between you and Steven?”

  She ignored my question. She didn’t even blush. Without missing a beat, she continued. “Well, it’s good to see you back to your old self, or rather—” her eyes traveled from my head to my toes and back up again, “—to half your old self. How much weight have you lost?”

  “You think I lost weight?”

  Toni scrutinized me closer. “I see you nearly every day. That’s probably why I didn’t notice until now, but you’ve lost a ton of weight.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I mean it as a compliment.”

  I harrumphed. It was true that my clothes weren’t as tight lately. I looked down. My dress wasn’t bursting at the seams. “I haven’t weighed myself in ages. Not since the—the night of the party.” I smiled. “I guess there’s no diet like the heartbreak diet.”

  “And you’re wearing makeup. And doing your hair. Yep, you’re definitely on the mend.”

  The waiter arrived with a large shaker of martinis. He set the glasses on the table and poured the drinks. I used the distraction to glance toward the bar again. The stool where Mitchell had been sitting only a minute ago was now empty. I glanced furtively around the room, but he was nowhere. He’s gone. To my dismay, I recognized my unrest as disappointment.

  “In life,” Toni said, lifting her glass, “a person is either the hammer or the nail.”

  I waited for the punch line.

  “The decision is, would we rather get hammered or get nailed?”

  I burst out laughing. When I stopped, I lifted my glass and made my own toast. “To health and happiness.”

  “You are so boring.” Toni downed half her glass, then leaned in and whispered, “Don’t look now, but he’s looking this way. Now tell me the truth. You like him, don’t you?”

  “I do not,” I exclaimed, once again feeling the color rise to my face. So Mitchell’s back. I fought the urge to turn and look.

  “He really is cute.”

  “Toni, please. He’ll think we’re talking about him.”

  “We are talking about him. Oh look, he’s coming over.”

  “Oh, shit!” Before I could stop myself, I swiveled to look and, sure enough, Mitchell was heading straight this way. I quickly finger-combed my hair and smoothed out my skirt.

  “Hello, ladies,” he said when he reached the table. Then he looked at me. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s my favorite Yorkie these days? No more encounters with skunks, I hope.”

  My heart was doing a tap dance in my chest. I forced a chuckle. “No, thank goodness. That was, I hope, a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

  Mitchell stood there. I stared at him, tongue-tied, until he relieved me of my awkwardness. “Well, it was nice running into you again.”

  “Please join us,” said Toni in a voice that sounded like a purr.

  Mitchell glanced at me and hesitated. He shook his head. “I have to go. I have an early appointment tomorrow.” He nodded goodbye and walked away.

  “Why didn’t you ask him to join us?” Toni whispered when he was far enough.

  “I—I…”

  Toni sighed impatiently.

  “Too late now,” I said and abruptly changed the subject. “I think we should look into this Harry Johnson guy,” I announced.

  “You can’t be serious. You’re still talking about playing detective after what happened to Mona? I was hoping you’d forgotten about all that nonsense. If we had walked in during the murder we could have been killed. This whole idea is stupid. Listen to me. You have to leave it to the police.”

  “I want to look into the drug angle more closely. Those pill bottles I found have to mean something.”

  She reasoned with me. “We have no idea what kind of pills were in those bottles. For all we know, they could have been vitamins.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Toni. Be real. What are the odds those were innocent little vitamin pills?”

  “I agree,” she answered. “But how are we supposed to prove it? Let the police do their job. Me, I’m out of it. Besides, if the motive was drugs, the murderer could be anyone.”

  She had a point. I was tempted to admit that I’d even suspected
her at one point, but I kept that to myself. “As I’ve said a thousand times, I won’t hold my breath waiting for the cops,” I declared fiercely. “They won’t lift a finger to help me. And don’t think for one second that just because they know I didn’t kill Mona, that they’ve automatically dropped me as a suspect in Rob’s murder.”

  “You’re right.”

  She agreed? Now that shocked me. “Why do you say that? Has Steven said anything?”

  “Only that until the case is solved, you’re not off the hook.” She sipped her martini, set it down and then added, “I didn’t want to tell you this but it seems the cops are becoming impatient to solve the case. They’re actively looking for some reason to arrest you.”

  Dread washed over me. “Actively?”

  She nodded. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

  “See what I mean? Unless I find out who did it, I’m still at risk of spending my life in jail.”

  “You’ll only get me into trouble again.”

  I leaned forward. “You don’t have to get involved. But the way I see it, I’m damned if I do, but I’m really damned if I don’t. So I might as well do. I think it’s high time I had a little chat with Harry Johnson.”

  “You promised Steven you’d stay out of it.”

  “Same goes for you,” I retorted, as in “Who gives a shit?” rather than “Maybe you’re right.”

  She pursed her mouth and tapped her Chanel-red nails on the marble tabletop. “That’s it,” she exclaimed as her face lit up. “Not even Steven can fault you for keeping in touch with your old friends, can he?”

  Where was she going with this?

  “If you were to invite Rob’s coworkers to, say, a casual dinner, that would be all right, wouldn’t it?”

  “You want me to throw a dinner party? How’s a party going to help?”

  She shrugged. “It’s surprising how much a person can learn just by chatting over dinner—that’s if you invite the right people.” Without waiting for my reply, she continued. “We should start working on that guest list right now.”

  the six-feet-under kind of trouble

  Later, as Toni and I walked to my place, where she had left her car, I played our plan over in my mind.

  “For the record,” Toni insisted, “what we’re doing isn’t snooping, at least not in the true sense of the word. After all, it is normal that you should want to stay in touch with people you consider friends.”

  I nodded.

  “Anyhow, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” Her voice was slightly slurry.

  “The one person I really want to speak to is Gordon Page,” I said. “He worked with Rob for two years. Of all the people at the hospital, he’s probably the one who was closest to Rob. If anything illegal was going on, he might have seen something.”

  “What about Harry Johnson? He’s our suspect.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to talk to him. But I’m convinced he was the skinny guy Jake saw with Rob. Of course I have to invite him—even though he scares me.”

  “Of course the man scares you. We think he’s killed twice.”

  “I hate the idea of him in my home.”

  “I suspect he’s already been in your house.”

  “You’re probably right,” I grumbled. “As long as I invite as many of Rob’s coworkers as I can, I’ll be surrounded by people and I’ll be safe. And with so many guests, I can steer the conversation without it seeming like an interrogation.”

  She hiccupped. “Completely safe.”

  As we rounded the corner onto Shaw, Toni pulled her car keys out of her purse. I snatched them from her.

  “Hey…”

  “No way I’m letting you drive after the number of drinks you’ve had. Either you stay over at my place or I call you a cab.”

  Ten minutes later, Toni climbed into a taxi, and I marched off to bed followed by a strangely listless Jackie.

  “What’s wrong with you, little girl?” I was beginning to worry. If something were to happen to Jackie, I’d go mad. She was my baby.

  *

  The next morning I couldn’t get Toni’s comments about my weight out of my mind. For weeks I hadn’t even thought about it, but today I couldn’t resist. I went through my usual routine of shedding every extra ounce of clothing, and then stepped on the scale. I closed my eyes as the numbers spun. When I looked, my weight was lower by twelve pounds. This was unbelievable. No wonder my clothes had been more comfortable. I guess I hadn’t eaten much since Rob’s death. Also, I’d been feverishly developing the low-calorie menu. Could the lower-calorie meals have contributed to my weight loss? Imagine if this menu turned our business around and helped me get skinny.

  After coffee, I forced myself to dial the oncology department’s direct line. I’d called that number daily for nearly two years, but not once since Rob’s death.

  A nurse’s voice answered. “Oncology Department, good morning.”

  I asked for Dr. Page and a moment later Gordon was on the line. To my relief, he sounded sincerely happy to hear from me. “I’ve been meaning to call you,” he said. “Just to make sure you’re all right.”

  “Thanks, Gordon. I’d like you to come to a small dinner party I’m planning. It hasn’t been long since Rob died, but it’s time for me to start socializing.” As an incentive, I added, “If I remember correctly, you liked a friend of mine, Kim. If you like, I can invite her too.” Since Kim had all but stopped her efforts to win my friendship, I didn’t feel the need to avoid her as much.

  I heard the smile in his voice. “Of course I remember Kim. It would be nice to see her again. But to be honest, she didn’t seem too interested in me. In any event,” he added offhandedly, “I’ll gladly join you for dinner and not only because of Kim. How’s that?”

  “That’s great, Gordon. I know how difficult it is for residents to plan their schedule. I wanted to give you plenty of notice. How’s Sunday, two weeks from now?” What I was really hoping was that with any luck the murder would be solved by then, and the evening would be a pleasant dinner party. I gave him the time and my address, and I was about to hang up when a question occurred to me. “Gordon, there’s something I’d like to know.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “This may sound weird, but did you ever suspect Rob of being involved in illegal drug activity?” There was a long silence. “Gordon?”

  “I’m still here.” Another pause, this one shorter. When he answered, he was hesitant. “Nothing I was overtly aware of, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  It hit me in the gut. “Really?”

  “If you’re asking me, you must suspect something.”

  “I heard something recently, and I need to know if there’s any truth to it.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “Nothing I want to repeat. It might just be hearsay.”

  “I’m sorry. As I said, I don’t know of anything. It’s just that his morals seemed elastic to me.”

  I sighed. “I need to know if I was foolish.”

  “You know, Nicky, we can only see what others allow us to.”

  “Did the police ever question you about Rob?” I asked.

  “Yes, but drugs were never mentioned.”

  “Well, thanks, Gordon. You’ve been helpful.”

  “If you need anything else, give me a call.”

  After hanging up, I was emotionally exhausted. Why hadn’t the police followed my tip about drugs? Unless I solved this case myself, I would never be off the hook. This was exactly the goad I needed to call Harry Johnson.

  “I often think of you, Nicky,” he said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Was it my imagination or did he sounded artificially friendly?

  I offered my explanation. “I’m having a few friends for dinner to give us a chance to reminisce.”

  “How nice,” he said. “But I have a better idea. How about I take you out?”

  “That’s a lovely offer, Harry, but the whole thing with Rob is still recent. For now, th
is dinner party is all I can handle.”

  “Come on,” he pushed. “It’ll do you good. Don’t think of it as anything more than two friends sharing a meal. I’ll tell you what. I’ll accept your invitation if you accept mine.”

  I heard myself agreeing. I gave him the date and held my breath while he checked his schedule. I remained on hold until, “Fine. I’ll be there,” he said at last. “So when do you and I get together?”

  After setting a date for the following Monday night, I hung up. And it hit me. I had just accepted a dinner date with someone I suspected of being a murderer. A cold shiver ran down my back. On the other hand, what better way to interview the man? And if by then I found I hadn’t the heart to go through with it, I’d simply cancel. Pushing the issue out of my mind, I picked up the phone and called Janice.

  Her pleasant voice lifted my spirits. “Of course Simon and I will be there. I look forward to it,” she replied. “Who else is coming?”

  “So far, I’ve got confirmations from Gordon and Harry.”

  “Harry?” she asked. “I didn’t know you were close.”

  “We’re definitely not close.” I hesitated, but couldn’t keep my theory quiet. “I think he could be the murderer.”

  “Then why would you invite him to dinner?”

  “I want to make him talk. Unfortunately, I somehow agreed to have dinner with him alone. But I’ll wait a few days, then cancel.”

  “Hmm.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe dinner alone wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe you’ll find out more that way.”

  I could hardly believe her suggestion. “Don’t you think it would be dangerous?”

  “Put it this way. This dinner could keep you out of jail, but I wouldn’t go anywhere deserted with him. Where is he taking you?”

  “We haven’t set a place yet, just a time—next Monday night.”

  After hanging up, I went back to my mission. Soon, seven guests had confirmed: Gordon Page, Harry Johnson, Janice and Simon Bradley, Susan and Brian Harris and Kim.

  Kim, of course, had offered to help. She was nice. And pretty soon I found myself confiding in her.