Getting Skinny (A Chef Landry Mystery)

by Domovitch, Monique

  “Fine.” Toni took a sip. “Just bring on the food. I’m starving.”

  “I created this one entirely on my own,” Charles boasted. “Nobody’s tasted it, not even Marley.”

  He ran to the kitchen and reappeared a moment later, carrying dishes of gorgeous, steaming noodles sprinkled with small chunks of roasted cauliflower, caramelized onions and toasted walnuts. “I want you to be completely honest,” he said, handing a plate to each.

  I looked down at the dish in front of me. It looked more appealing than I’d anticipated, but I still had my doubts. I bit in. To my astonishment, this was really good. I looked around to the others. They looked as surprised as I was.

  Charles waited with barely disguised enthusiasm. “Be honest,” he said, smiling broadly.

  I was taking my time, savoring every bite. This was so good I didn’t want to rush it. Meanwhile, Toni seemed fascinated with the flavors. Across from me, Jake and Marley had already wolfed down their portions, but waited deferentially for Tony and me to speak.

  At last, Toni put down her fork. “I think this is delicious. I was sure I’d hate it. I don’t normally like cauliflower. You didn’t really invent this recipe, did you?” she asked with a you-can’t-fool-me look on her face.

  “Yes, I did,” Charles answered vehemently.

  I held up my hand. “I agree with Toni. This is absolutely divine. The mix of flavors is inspired.”

  Charles let out a whoop. “Two out of two ladies love it,” he exclaimed, doing a happy jig.

  Jake, who had been silent until now, spoke at last. “This is one of the best pasta dishes I’ve ever had.”

  With every compliment, Charles’s smile grew wider, until at last he pulled a chair and plopped into it with a hand over his heart. “I was so scared you wouldn’t like it.”

  Marley piped in. “I would never have thought of combining those flavors.”

  “Which is why you’re not a chef,” Charles replied haughtily.

  Marley looked at Jake. “I think I’ve just been snubbed.”

  “He’s just jealous ’cause you’re cuter than he is,” Jake said. Even Charles joined in the laughter.

  When the laughter subsided, Toni poured everyone another glass of wine. “Charles, you’re brilliant. If you can come up with a half dozen other recipes this good, Skinny’s will be a hit. How many do you have so far?”

  “Seven,” I answered. “Two appetizers, two soups and three main courses.”

  “By the end of the week, we’ll have at least another three,” Jake interjected. “A few are nearly perfect. They just need fine-tuning.”

  “That’s enough for a basic menu,” I declared. “We’ll start with that and expand.”

  “Now how are we going to advertise this new menu?”

  “The best kind of advertising is word-of-mouth, but we need to get paying customers soon.” I thought quickly. “Here’s a thought. Who would be more interested in a good low-calorie restaurant than someone on a diet? I’ll Google all the weight-loss organizations in the city and make a list of the addresses where they hold meetings.”

  “What for?” Toni asked.

  “Every person who goes to those meetings is a potential customer. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll print our new menus with the calorie content alongside each dish, and use it as a flyer.” I snapped my fingers. “And you know who can get us good prices on printing? Janice. Her family is in the printing business.”

  “Good to know. But I don’t get why we need the meeting schedules.”

  “You know when you come out of a store and you see those annoying flyers on your windshield? Well, that’s going to be us. Imagine thousands of potential customers reading our menu.”

  “We’re geniuses.” Toni finished her wine and proffered her glass for a refill.

  “What do you mean we?”

  “Okay, fine, you. But I wouldn’t boast about being a genius if I were you. You know what they say, ‘Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole one.’”

  I laughed. “Let’s set a date for the launch of the new menu. Does everyone agree that we can get ready in one week?”

  “We’ll have to work like mad, but I don’t see why not,” Toni said.

  “Then let’s err on the safe side and aim for ten days from today.” My announcement was met with hesitation and then nods all around as they digested this. “Great, that’s set then. I’ll call Janice and put a rush on those menus and flyers,” To Toni I said, “What would you say to joining a weight-loss group? We could pick up recipe ideas.”

  “Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, a balanced diet is one cookie in each hand.”

  As we were clearing the table later, Toni was watching me. “I’ve been meaning to ask, how much more weight have you lost? You must be down another five or ten pounds.”

  I shook my head. “Thanks, Toni. You may be a good friend, but you’re a terrible liar.”

  “I’m not making it up. The guys said they noticed it, too.”

  “Oh, so you’ve been discussing my weight behind my back? Nice.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a knot. We were talking about how good you look. All you’re eating these days are low-cal dishes. No wonder you’re losing.”

  “You really think so?” I was almost afraid to believe it.

  Toni pushed away from the table. “Okay, that’s enough for one night. I have to go.”

  “Where are you off to?” I asked.

  “Oh…” She waved a hand vaguely. “I have an appointment.”

  “At nine o’clock at night? Sounds like a date to me.” Then I added, “And if it’s with Steven, he’s a good man and we know a good man is hard to find.”

  Toni hooted. “Like Mae West said, ‘A good man may be hard to find, but a hard man is good to find.’”

  “Have fun,” I called out, laughing. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” But the door had already closed. Hmm. For all her joking, Toni had not denied that her date was with her ex.

  I was alone, straightening the kitchen, when I noticed Charles’s backpack still hanging from the coat hook near the back door. Without thinking, I went straight to it, unzipped it and looked inside. There, in a small plastic pouch, was a glass vial with a watery liquid and a hypodermic needle. I stood there staring at it for what felt like forever, when I heard the front door open and close. I quickly re-zipped the bag, and a second later, Charles walked in.

  “Oh, there it is.” He grabbed it from the hook where I’d just put it back. “See you tomorrow,” he said and left.

  I was too stunned to answer.

  a scene straight out of hell

  Before I had a chance to confront Charles the next day, I noticed Jake was up to something, though I had no idea what. My first inkling came after the phone rang and he made a wild dash to pick it up. This in itself was nothing strange, but the guilty glances he threw my way aroused my suspicions. All I could hear, of course, was Jake’s end of the conversation.

  “Sweet,” he said, immediately lowering his voice and turning his back. I moved closer. “That’s a great idea. I love it,” he whispered. “Not a problem. She’ll never suspect a thing.” The moment Jake went into the kitchen, I checked the call display. Toni’s number. What the heck did she and Jake have to talk about in secret?

  When I questioned Jake about it, all I got was a vague, “Toni just wanted to ask me something.”

  “What?” I asked.

  He looked at me blankly. “What, what?”

  “What did Toni want to know?”

  Instead of answering, he sniffed the air and exclaimed, “Something’s burning,” and he ran off to the kitchen.

  An hour later, I was checking the reservations book when I was startled by the flash of a camera. “What was that for?” I asked Jake. “If I’d known you were going to take my picture, I would have made an effort to look good.”

  “That just goes to show that you should always look your best,” Jake smart-mouthed
back before flouncing off to the dining room, brandishing his Kodak like a trophy. “If you want me to take a better picture of you, wear makeup tomorrow.”

  “I don’t want to have my picture taken,” I called after him. “Why would you want a shot of me?” But the door had already swung shut, and for the rest of the day, every time I turned around, there was Jake taking a snapshot of somebody.

  “Get closer together,” he ordered the kitchen staff. Marley, Charles and Scott got into a huddle. “Closer.” The guys squeezed together. “Here, Nicky. You take this picture.” Jake handed me the camera and joined the group.

  Later he snapped Toni, the staff in the kitchen, one of Kim when she dropped by, even a few more of me. Thankfully, Toni screeched at him to stop. Then she shuffled me off to the washroom where she helped me apply some makeup. “Now you’re beautiful,” she declared before ordering Jake to take some “nice pictures of Nicky for a change.”

  By the time the day was over, I still hadn’t had a talk with Charles. This was not something I could postpone forever. I would do it the next day, I decided. No excuses.

  The following afternoon, I was setting out clean tablecloths when he came in.

  “Charles, I need to talk to you for a second.”

  “Sure,” he said, plopping his backpack on the floor and dropping into a chair. “What’s up?”

  “I saw a syringe in your bag last night.” I paused, searching his face. “Charles, do you have a drug problem?”

  His smile evaporated, and he stared hard at me. “What exactly were you doing, going through my stuff?” He pushed back his chair and grabbed his bag. “I do not have a drug problem,” he said, his face stormy. “I have diabetes.” And with that, he stomped into the kitchen.

  I chased after him. “Charles, I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have.” I paused. He was wrapping his chef’s apron around his waist, his movements brusque. “I know this is no excuse, but, what with the murder, I guess I’ve been a bit paranoid lately.”

  He turned to face me, sighing. “I know. I guess maybe I should have told you when I found out. But I’d missed a few days of work from feeling weak, and I was afraid…” He shrugged.

  “Forgive me?”

  He nodded. At that moment, Toni burst in, her face glowing with excitement.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “You’re never here until at least three o’clock. Did I miss something?”

  “No,” Toni assured me, smiling and waving a brown manila envelope. “You sounded as if you didn’t believe that you’d lost much weight. This is the proof.” She handed it to me. “That’s why I’m here early.”

  I glanced at my watch. “I didn’t say you were early. It’s two-thirty and you’re supposed to be here at two.”

  Toni made a grab for the envelope. “If you’re not going to—”

  Before she could get any further, I tore it open and pulled out a glossy photo of myself. Not one photo. Two, printed side by side—a before and an after. The before was of me smiling at the camera, in my cilantro dress the night of Rob’s party. My mouth dried. The after was me in a pair of tight jeans where, admittedly, I looked pretty good. “So this is what you and Jake were up to.”

  Toni grinned. “Guilty as charged. I hope you’re impressed. Come on, you look great, admit it.” She came around and peered over my shoulder. “Look at you in those jeans. You look fantastic.”

  “It’s a really great shot of me. But I hardly think I look skinny.” I couldn’t peel my eyes off the before picture.

  “You know, we should use your pictures in our advertising. We could print our Skinny Menu with your before-and-after pictures on the back, and then use them as flyers. Think about it. If I was on a diet and saw this, I wouldn’t want to eat at any other restaurant for as long as I lived.”

  “You want to make me a cover girl?” I laughed. “It’s a fun idea, but I don’t know that I want the whole city to see my before picture. Also, I’ve only been eating skinny meals for a few weeks. It might be false advertising to credit all of my weight loss to the Skinny Menu.” I paused for a second, studying my pictures. “It’d be so humiliating if I gained it all back.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly. As long as you keep doing what you’re doing, you won’t gain it back. Besides, half of this country is overweight.”

  That hardly made me feel better. “Maybe I should think about this overnight.”

  “Good idea. By tomorrow morning I’ll have you seeing things the right way.”

  I groaned. “You won’t let me get out of this, will you?”

  Toni gave me a lopsided grin. It said it all.

  “Okay, fine!” I muttered. “This is so embarrassing. I’ll agree under one condition. I want to see all the pictures Jake took, and I’ll pick the one I like best,” I said, but Toni was already doing her victory dance.

  But for all my embarrassment, when I left that night, it was with a renewed sense of confidence. I had no doubt that Skinny’s on Queen would not only succeed, but soar. Marketing the Skinny Menu to diet groups was sure to create exactly the kind of buzz we needed to turn our business around.

  A few minutes later, I let myself in and Jackie leaped into my arms. As I hugged her, I noticed she seemed heavier than usual. I patted her thighs and belly. Yep, my munchkin was definitely gaining weight.

  “Hey you little fatso,” I told her in between kisses. “What’s going on here? I’m losing weight and you’re getting fat? I’ll have to put you on a diet. If you keep gaining weight this way, you won’t fit through your doggie door anymore.” I was on my way upstairs when I noticed the message light blinking on the phone. I picked it up and punched in my code.

  My heart dropped when I heard the voice. “Hello, Nicky. This is Harry. I made reservations for seven o’clock at Bacci Bacci. I hope you bring your appetite. If you want me to pick you up, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll see you there tomorrow.”

  Why hadn’t I called Harry to cancel our date? Now that it loomed so near, I regretted my decision to go through with it. And now it was too late to squirm my way out of it. Shit.

  *

  At seven o’clock sharp, I walked into Bacci Bacci wearing my pistachio linen outfit, which, thrill of thrills, was now loose on me. For the first time in my life, I’d had to use pins to make the waist smaller. It almost made this evening worthwhile.

  At the reservation desk, I gave Harry’s name. “Dr. Johnson is not here yet, but his table is ready. Will you follow me?” The maître d’ guided me to a table in a discreet corner, pulled out the chair and handed me the menu. He left, and I looked around.

  Nice. The tables were small and set closely together, a good way to seat as many patrons as possible in a small space. The atmosphere was pleasant. The decor—warm golden walls with framed paintings, high ceilings, and formal table settings on white tablecloths—reminded me of pictures I’d seen of old Italy. Very, very nice.

  No wonder this place was known as one of the best in the city. When the big stars came to town, they all came here. I’d read somewhere that Oprah herself had been here last year.

  “Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  I was so concentrated on studying the restaurant, that the question startled me. “Pellegrino, please.”

  The waiter walked away and I glanced at my watch. To my surprise, it was already seven-thirty. What the heck? Was I being stood up? Here I’d been berating myself all day for not canceling, and he was canceling me. The waiter reappeared with my glass of sparkling water. He moved aside and I saw Harry approaching the table, smiling sheepishly.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, Nicky.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek. Ugh. “I had an emergency at the hospital.”

  “Well, you’re here now.”

  He ordered a bottle of pinot blanc and two glasses. The waiter left and Harry leaned forward. “This place serves the best spaghetti alla carbonara in the world.”

  “Sounds delicious.” I put down my menu.
>
  The waiter reappeared with the wine. He opened the bottle and Harry made a whole production out of swirling, examining, sniffing and tasting. “Good,” he declared at last, setting down his glass to be filled.

  To his credit, Harry had been right. When I tasted the pasta, it was indeed sinfully delicious. “I told you you’d like it.” Then without missing a beat, he continued, “How have you been doing since Rob’s death?”

  Coming from him the question felt invasive. I was almost speechless. “I, er, as well as can be expected, I suppose.” Then I realized he had given me the perfect opening. “There were so many things I didn’t know about Rob.”

  Harry’s eyes bore through me. “What sort of things?”

  I cleared my throat and proceeded cautiously. “It seems that he might have been involved with drugs.”

  He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. “What makes you say that?”

  I gave him the safest explanation I could think of. “His mother admitted that he’d had an addiction to painkillers some years ago.”

  Harry seemed surprised. “Did she say anything else?”

  This was not going the way I’d planned. Harry was asking all the questions, and I was doing all the divulging. “She said you were the one who got him out of it.” I broke off a piece of bread and took a bite. Under my lashes, I watched his reaction. His shoulders relaxed. His gaze softened, and I realized that he’d been nervous.

  “Oh, that. It was nothing. Anybody would have done the same thing.”

  “Well, it wasn’t anybody. It was you.” I leaned forward and looked at him earnestly. “Harry, you probably knew Rob better than most. Do you think he might have gotten involved with drugs again?”

  Harry shook his head. “No way,” he said, vehemently. “At least, not as far as I know. Why do you ask?”

  “It was something the police said. They’ve been looking at all possible scenarios, even drugs,” I lied. “After what Mrs. Grant had told me, I just thought—”