by G. K. Parks
“I should have taped the interview for you,” I quipped.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Maybe I forgot. Y’know, the same way you forgot to tell me thank you.”
Renner bowed and rolled his hand like a court jester acknowledging the queen. “Thank you.” His eyes twinkled. “How ‘bout I make it up to you? I’ll extend my original offer again. What do you say?”
“What offer?”
“To be my assistant. When we were searching for the missing girl, you proved you have all the makings of an excellent assistant. And despite your oversight not to record the interview today, I’m still willing to let you assist me, just as long as you remember how I take my coffee.”
“Cream, sugar, and a side of arsenic, right?”
“I switched to cyanide this month, but that’s close enough. When can you start?”
“Ask Cross. He’s days away from giving me the ax. Actually,” I met Bennett’s eyes, “my head isn’t the only one on the chopping block. Lucien knows about this case, and he blamed me for it. So thanks a lot.”
“Shit.” Renner sobered; the joking entirely forgotten. “I’m sorry. I’ll talk to him and explain the situation. I don’t want this to impact your position here. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll make sure Lucien knows that.”
“Don’t bother.” Getting back to business, I flipped to the two names Easton gave me. “Easton thinks a rival chef is behind this since the arsonist targeted his restaurant and the threats only began after he announced he was leaving Bouillon. Do the names Asher York or Galen Strader mean anything to you?”
“They didn’t pop up in my preliminary research. Did you check into them?”
“Just the basics. York has several DUIs, and Strader has a minor assault charge.”
“How minor?”
“He threw a plate at one of his kitchen staff.”
“Nice guy,” Renner said. “So we know Strader has a temper, and York has a drinking problem. With colleagues like that, it’s no wonder Easton thinks someone is out to get him. Of course, the threat could have come from an angry customer or a food critic.”
“Or one of his staff or any of a million other possibilities, but Easton focused on these two men. So it’s a start. I didn’t get much out of him in terms of his personal life, so I don’t know how many skeletons we might be dealing with. You’d know better than I would.”
Renner thought for a moment. “Let’s leave Easton’s personal life out of it until we know more. We don’t want to cause Lucien to have palpitations if it’s not necessary.”
“You’re no fun.”
Renner snickered. “Tell me more about the interview. How did Easton seem? What was his demeanor like?”
“Frankly, he was amazed I was willing to take him seriously. He didn’t think I believed him.”
“Do you?”
I shrugged. “Something doesn’t feel right. I just can’t put my finger on it.” I picked up the notepad and flipped to the next page. “Easton couldn’t provide any solid details on his previous threats. He trashed what little physical evidence there was, and he blocked and deleted the online harassment. He said he reported it to the police, but I’m not seeing any notations in the police report.” I handed the notepad to Renner. “Those are his social media account handles. He’s deactivated several. I didn’t spot anything malicious on the accounts he still has, but I didn’t look too hard. I didn’t want to step on your toes.”
Renner reached for the phone. “Since Cross is on to us, there’s no reason to hide this any longer. I might as well ask the guys in IT to check it out. If there’s something to find, they’ll find it.” He made the request and skimmed the rest of my notes. He stopped on the question I scrawled in the corner of the last page. “Want to elaborate?”
“Easton Lango was in the restaurant when it caught fire. I saw the burns on his hands. He could be the arsonist, or the fire might have been attempted murder. Until we know more, I don’t think we should rule anything out.”
“It could just be an unfortunate accident. The fire department said it was electrical, and the insurance investigator signed off on it. You know how insurance works. They’ll come up with any reason to avoid cutting a check. Do you really think they reached the wrong conclusion?”
“No one’s perfect, but it sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”
Renner skimmed the police report again. “Honestly, I don’t know. When I was a cop, cases like this made my day. They closed themselves. Just walk the scene, sign the paperwork, and call it a night.” He reread the statement Easton gave the police. “If he burned down his own restaurant, why would he want the PD to reopen the case? He already has the insurance money.”
“According to him, it wasn’t enough.”
Renner reached for the insurance information, but the contract had a lot of fine print. “I’ll have someone from legal look at this. Maybe there’s a clause or payment schedule we’re missing.” He dropped the pages onto his desk. “Even if there is some stipulation that will trigger a heftier payout, it’s a risky move, asking the authorities to reopen an investigation. If the fire is deemed arson, the cops will hunt for the culprit, and eventually, the guilty party will get caught. I don’t think Easton’s an arsonist, but he might be an opportunist.” Renner opened his desk drawer and pulled out a recent copy of the paper. The lifestyle section featured a spread on area chefs. Easton Lango was featured above the fold. “The fire and his known rivalry with other chefs makes for a juicy scandal.”
“You think that’s why he’s pointing fingers at Strader and York? He wants to start a public feud?”
“Could be. I’d say Easton’s restaurant didn’t generate enough buzz, so after the fire, he saw the writing on the wall and figured making false allegations and funding an investigation was the best way to start over with a clean slate and over-hyped publicity for his next venture.”
“The food truck?”
“Or whatever restaurant he opens or decides to work in. My sources say he’s had several lucrative offers from area restaurants. The hotter the story gets, the more sought after he’ll be.”
And people thought I was cynical and jaded. “Then why did you agree to take the case?”
“I didn’t. I only agreed to a consultation with a potential new client. Plus, I owed my buddy at the precinct a favor, and he called in his chit. This is what he wants.”
“Why?” Renner’s story didn’t make much sense.
“Have you ever met Jake Voletek?”
I thought for a moment, but I didn’t think we ever crossed paths. “His name doesn’t ring any bells.”
“He’s a legacy, came from a whole family of cops. Father, grandfather, brothers, all cops. With his name, he could sit back, serve his twenty years, and collect his pension. No one would think anything of it, but that never sat right with him. He’s a self-starter. Instead of just focusing on the homicides that cross his desk, he likes to take a proactive approach and get involved early on. Whenever he gets the chance, he hangs around the front desk, fielding complaints and filing reports for walk-ins. That’s how he and Easton crossed paths.” The disdain practically dripped from Renner’s words. “I’ve told him it’s gonna catch up to him, but he doesn’t care. He’s a fucking Voletek. He has bricks for brains.”
“I thought you said you’re buddies.”
“We are. He’s just an idiot and a total foodie. As far as he’s concerned, Chef Easton is a star. So between the hero worship and hero complex, Voletek decided something needs to be done. It didn’t hurt that Easton promised he’d privately cater dinner for anyone who looks into the matter, and my pal intends to cash in.”
“Cops are exempt from accepting rewards.”
“Yeah, but private eyes aren’t.” Renner grinned. “Don’t worry about the logistics. That’s my problem, but since you’ve been so helpful, I’ll make sure you get a doggie bag.”
“So you don’t think an actual crime occurred?
You’re just pacifying Easton so your pal gets some Kobe beef?”
“I don’t know yet,” Renner sighed, “but you make it sound so tawdry.”
I gave him a wide-eyed look. Cross Security was a far cry from my old job as a federal agent. The FBI had a code of ethics, just like the police department. But obviously, Cross Security’s ethics were as questionable as Lucien’s, and the time away from the PD made Renner forget the oaths he had taken. “You’re unbelievable.”
“No, I’m not. But in case you haven’t noticed, our clients aren’t always on the level. They have their own agendas. Plus, I don’t know enough about the situation yet to make a judgment call. That’s why we’re looking into it. Because I don’t know anything yet.” On that point, we were in total agreement. “What I do know,” Renner said sharply, “is you’re failing to consider two things. First, I spent weeks spying on Easton Lango for his ex-wife. Not once has the man ever taken the moral high ground. Hell, even with a thirty-foot ladder, Easton would still have to look up to find the moral high ground. And second, if my years on the force taught me anything, it’s to trust the experts. They don’t think a crime happened, and until I find something to the contrary, it wouldn’t be wise to assume their assessments are incorrect.”
“Fine,” I conceded on both points, “but you’re forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Last night, Easton Lango was absolutely terrified. He’s convinced someone is out to get him.”
“The spotlight always attracts a degree of crazy, but most of the time, crazy people aren’t dangerous. They’re just crazy. However, if one of these online trolls or,” he flipped the page, “cowardly note leavers, started that fire, the police need to know about it. The last thing this city needs is a crazed firebug running amok.”
“Even if it turns out the firebug is our client?”
“Even then,” Renner said, “which goes against Cross Security’s policies. I have to discuss this case with Cross before I investigate. That’s why I wanted to meet with Easton. I wanted to make sure there was even a case before I bothered bringing it up to the boss. What do you think? Is there something here?”
I laughed. “I’m pretty sure we already established that.”
“Maybe I was hoping you changed your mind.”
“Doesn’t it bother you getting paid to protect these questionable individuals?”
“It’s hard to stomach at first. I suggest keeping some of the pink stuff in your desk drawer. It helps.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
I didn’t like that answer. SSA Mark Jablonsky, my former mentor, was right. This wasn’t the place for me. Maybe the solution to the stalemate was to forfeit the game. I started over more times than I cared to count. I could do it again. “In that case, I’ll leave you to it.” I edged toward the door. I had already dug a deep enough hole for myself. My connection to Martin was the only thing ensuring my position at Cross Security. Without it, I’d already be DOA.
“Where the hell are you going?” Bennett jerked his chin at the empty chair. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” He held up the notepad. “You think Easton’s an arsonist or a potential murder victim. Don’t you want to find out which is true?”
“First, I don’t think he’s an arsonist. I think it’s a possibility. And second, this is your case.”
“Do you have something better to do?”
“Not really, but Lucien has to approve it.” Which under any other circumstances would have been incentive enough for me to stick with it, but now I was having doubts about everything. Existential crisis, here I come. I’d already forced Cross to remove the non-compete clause and grant me autonomy in the cases I selected. But the boss loved to micromanage, and the cases he assigned or refused to assign me were our biggest dilemma. Angering him by working a forbidden case would not help me when we sat down at the negotiation table. “My position at Cross Security is already on shaky ground. Are you sure you want to join me on the edge of the cliff?”
Renner shook off my warning. “What if Lucien signs off on it? Are you in?”
“Yeah, but I doubt he’ll okay this.”
“I’ll admit it’s a gamble. On the one hand, if Easton’s claims are on the level, the chef will be grateful for our help. And if Jake’s right about Easton’s talents, the chef will be a Michelin-starred superstar soon enough. That will make him a very desirable client for Cross Security, despite his ex-wife. Lucien will thank me for finding him and bringing him into the fold. And on the other hand, if Easton Lango is a criminal or raving lunatic, and we expose him, Bridget Stockton might just throw us a bone. Either way, it’s a win for Cross. That sounds like a decent pitch, right? Do you think Lucien will go for it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s find out.” Before I could say another word, Renner picked up the phone and dialed Cross’s extension. After some groveling and a repeat of everything we just discussed, Renner convinced Cross to give us permission to pursue the case and use whatever resources were necessary, but Cross insisted on one condition. I take the lead.
“What makes you so special?” Renner asked.
“It’s so Cross can insulate himself. I’m free to take clients on the side. If things go south, he’ll say Easton Lango wasn’t a Cross Security client. He’ll say he was mine.”
“We could drop him and recommend another firm take over. Maybe someone from Pierce and Sharpe Investigations.”
“Pierce and Sharpe? Did you make that up?”
“No, haven’t you seen the late night ads on the local channels? They have a jingle. It’s really catchy.”
“And their names are Pierce and Sharpe?”
“I’m pretty sure those aren’t their real names, but obviously, they could use the work. It’s your call since it’s your ass on the line.”
I couldn’t believe Cross accepted Renner’s proposal. The boss never gave in to my requests that easily. Cross was up to something. I just didn’t know what it was.
“Are you in or out, Parker?”
Assisting on this case had to be better than conducting endless background checks and napping through lunch. “In.”
“Then pull up a chair and let’s get to work.”
Six
“Anything?” I asked.
Renner hit the speaker button and put down the receiver. The annoying hold music filled the air. “He’s checking.” Renner looked at his watch. “He’s been checking for the last forty-five minutes. Maybe we should call the cops. He might have gotten locked in the freezer. He could be dying of frostbite.”
“Hang up. We’ll try again another day.” I leaned back, my vertebrae popping from the sudden shift in position. “What about Easton’s coworkers? Have you found anything on them?”
While Renner was on hold, he’d been searching for dirt on the kitchen staff at Bouillon. According to Easton, the threats began a month before he resigned as head chef, which meant there was a good chance the suspect worked at Bouillon.
“They’re an angry bunch. You should see the shit they post on social media. Wow.” Renner’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “Vitriolic bastards, each and every one of them.”
“Underpaid, unappreciated, and overworked can do that to a person.”
“I guess.” Renner clicked a key, sending his computer display to the big screen against the wall. “Just look at this. No wonder Easton thinks someone burned down his building. He spent every day with vindictive psychos.”
It was a free-for-all with the back and forth. Several messages contained explicit and creative death threats. Obviously, we didn’t have an absence of suspects. “What prompted that?” I pointed to one gruesome threat in particular.
“From what I can tell, Bryan, the dishwasher, and Kasey had something hot and heavy going on until Kasey caught Bryan with Isla, the pastry chef, horizontal on the chef’s desk.”
“Okay, but who are these other six people?” I
asked, counting the other handles that popped up in the conversation thread.
“Other members of the kitchen staff.” Renner exhaled. “Damn, this is more intense than those soapy dramas my ex-wife used to make me watch. Do any of them have records?”
I’d been scouring the criminal databases. “Most of them, but no felony convictions that I’ve found. Let’s see. Petty theft, public intoxication, disorderly conduct, simple assault, possession, vandalism,” I read the last one again, “and discharging a firearm within city limits.”
“That’s a scary thought. Who’s packing heat?”
“Kasey, the sous chef.” I scanned the argument. Luckily, she’d only threatened to use the paring knife to slice open Bryan’s stomach, remove his intestines, fill them with sausage meat and force them down his throat. She never mentioned wanting to shoot him, so that was a good sign. Maybe. “Did you find any mention of Easton, his restaurant, or his food truck?”
Renner highlighted the relevant threads related to Chef Easton. “It’s no secret they despised working for a hard ass prick, but the weird thing is, after Easton quit, they missed him.” He highlighted a particular conversation involving Isla, Kasey, Jamie, and Max. That conversation dated back to before Bryan’s two-timing, and I was surprised to learn Isla and Kasey had been friends prior to sharing the dishwasher. “Apparently, Chef Strader is even worse.”
“Galen Strader?”
Renner nodded. “Son of a bitch took over as head chef the day after Easton quit.”
“That fucks up our motive.”
“Maybe for Strader, but leaving Easton with no other options might be the only way to get him to return to Bouillon. One of the kitchen staff could be behind the fire and threats. Given all of their internet bitching, maybe they took it one step further and left the note on the car to dissuade him from leaving. But it didn’t work, so they burned down his restaurant.”
“Or they just like to bitch.” I read one of the lines and chuckled. Easton might have been an asshole, but he was our asshole. We knew what kind of shit to expect from him. “Do you seriously think they burned down his restaurant because they wanted him back?”
