by Lyndsey Cole
Annie stepped in front of Christy and held her arm out to block the door. “Before you go, what about George? He moped around here like a hyena that snuck into the kitchen and swallowed all of Leona’s food. He has to be guilty of something.”
“Nothing I’ve been able to find yet but he’s still on my radar.” Christy pointed at Annie. “If you find something, let me know. And, please, don’t try to do something heroic on your own.”
“Of course not. Did Sarah tell you that George left their room when everyone was upstairs and before we discovered that the chef was murdered?” Annie hated to throw Sarah under the bus like that, but it was an important bit of information. By Christy’s reaction, it was something she was not yet aware of.
Christy frowned. “I thought she was just a Nervous Nellie. It looks like I completely misjudged her, and that doesn’t sit well with me. Don’t let her know I’ll be back to find out what else she’s been hiding.”
“Our focus,” Annie included Leona with a wave of her hand, “is to get the Blackbird’s name cleared and out of the news.” By the time Christy returned, Annie might even have more information gleaned from Robin’s phone and George’s suitcase.
After Christy left with the bags of food, Annie juggled four plates. “You’ve got the rest?”
Leona nodded. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Jason was in the process of filling Connie’s and Sarah’s wine glasses. “Would you prefer a beer?” he asked Alex.
Alex grinned and nodded. “Yes, please. I think that would please my taste buds immensely.”
“How about you two beautiful cooks?” Jason said, holding up the bottle of wine.
“You need to ask?” Leona responded. “Just fill ‘em up, please.” She set one plate in front of Sarah and the other in front of Connie whose wine glass was already half empty. “Grilled ham, cheese, and pineapple paninis. My bean salad is already on the table and I’ll be right back with spicy crab-stuffed avocados.”
“Oh, my,” Connie groaned. “Do you share your recipes or are they top secret and you’d have to kill me if you told me?” She giggled. The wine must have already gone straight to her head.
No one else laughed.
Annie didn’t miss Leona’s flinch at Connie’s request.
“Actually, I don’t share my recipes. I’m in the beginning stages of planning a cookbook which will include all my baked goodies from the Black Cat Café and my Blackbird Bed and Breakfast meals so I’m keeping all my creations to myself for now. I’m sure you understand.” Leona disappeared through the kitchen door.
“That’s too bad. I suppose I understand but it’s still a shame. Chef Marcel made it clear that he wouldn’t share either and, now, well, all will be lost with his demise.” Connie dabbed at the corner of her eye with an embroidered hankie. “I was so looking forward to having a copy of his book. Do you think someone else will finish it?”
“I assume it will be dealt with by his heirs,” Annie said.
“I don’t think he has any,” Connie lamented. “All those recipes. Lost forever. Such a pity.”
“I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion just yet. If everything was well organized, I bet someone will take on the project of getting his hard work published.”
After offering her crab-stuffed avocados to each guest, Leona sat at the head of the table, unfolded her napkin, and let it settle on her lap. “That would be a good question for Robin. She seems to know about the writing and publishing world.”
“It could depend on how close Chef Marcel was to finishing and whether he kept good notes. You know how some cooks,” Annie made a point to look at Leona, “don’t actually follow a recipe because they have a sense for what needs to go together.”
“That’s not fair, Annie. I keep notes on all my creations, every single adjustment, tweak, and dash of flavor. Once it’s perfected and taste-tested, I work up the final recipe. Actually, Robin gave me a great idea while we were making the cherry buried cakes earlier.”
Everyone looked at Leona.
“Photos—mouthwatering photos of each step while creating a recipe. Beautiful photos catch people’s attention and then they can’t wait to give the recipe a try. I know I’ve been manipulated by eye appeal to try a recipe plenty of times.”
Annie nodded her approval.
“And it’s about time you dust off your camera and help me with this project,” Leona said to Annie. “You’ve neglected your photographic talent for too long.”
Before Annie could point out that running the Black Cat Café took up too much of her time at the expense of other interests, the front door opened.
Footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as someone approached the dining room.
“Great. I haven’t missed dinner,” George said. He pulled out a chair and sat next to Sarah. “What? Don’t stop talking on my account.”
“Where have you been?” Sarah said, her voice filled with hurt.
“Nowhere, just walking around and thinking.” He looked around the table, his gaze stopping on Leona. “I have a confession to make.”
Sarah pushed her chair back as she stood. The force tipped it backward, sending it crashing to the floor. “You didn’t do it, did you?”
George’s face morphed from surprise to shock to anger. “What are you talking about, Sarah?”
26
Is there any more of that wine?” George eyed the bottle next to Jason. “I could use a glass, please.”
Jason passed him the bottle.
Everyone waited as he poured himself some wine, sipped it, and looked at everyone again. The silence was thick. Deep lines on George’s face and dark circles under his eyes revealed how much of a toll stress and weariness were taking on him.
George set his glass on the table. “I’ve had time to do some thinking.” He paused. “I have a problem. I think you’ve suspected as much, Sarah, and this weekend’s events have made me face my demons.”
“What have you done, George?” Sarah’s voice whispered around the table like the flutter of a newly emerged butterfly. “Did you go into the chef’s room?”
“The chef? This isn’t about the chef. As much as I think he took all of us for a ride this weekend, I realize I have to let go of my anger and move on.” George’s dark eyes bore into Sarah. “Do you actually think I killed the chef?”
“What else could it be? You left our room. Where did you go?”
George tensed. His eyes blazed. “Is that what you all think?”
Annie couldn’t hold her tongue for one second more while he dithered on with his long non-explanation. “Listen, George, you’ve been acting like a guilty criminal. If you didn’t kill the chef, you’d better have a good explanation for where you went. An explanation that gives you an alibi when Detective Crank returns.” She folded her arms and stared at George.
George’s mouth fell open. “I can’t believe it. I came back ready to unburden my guilt and all of you look at me like I’m a murderer. Just forget it. I’m getting my suitcase and finding another room where I don’t have to endure these accusing stares.” With both hands on the table, he pushed himself to a standing position. “Why don’t you ask Sarah where she went that night? When I returned to our room, she was nowhere to be found.”
Before George had time to leave the dining room, Alex blocked the doorway. “Not so fast. You aren’t leaving until you show us what’s in that suitcase.”
“You’re crazy.” George shoved Alex but, with Alex being at least four inches taller and carrying a good twenty more pounds of muscle, the shove had no more impact than a toddler pushing a boulder.
“Sarah?” Alex’s strong voice rang out but his eyes remained on George. “Did you leave your room like George stated?”
Sarah’s face matched the ivory linen napkins. “Yes. I went looking for George.”
“Liar!” George yelled. “We would have passed on the stairs when I came up.”
“The front stairs?” Sarah asked, her voice gaining a bi
t of strength.
“Of course, the front stairs.”
“I took the back stairs, hoping I’d find you looking for a snack in the kitchen but I never went all the way down when I heard talking. Oh dear, now I don’t know what to think.”
George laughed. “And here I thought you had snuck into the chef’s room and you thought I snuck into his room but we were both somewhere else. There is one more thing I haven’t told anyone yet—when Sarah and I first went upstairs while the chef was still in the living room, someone must have slipped into his room and had just closed his door. If it hadn’t been for the click, I might not have noticed. So, before you accuse me of anything Alex, was it you in the chef’s room?”
“Actually, Jared already admitted to sneaking into the chef’s room,” Annie said. “You hearing the door click confirms he went in when the chef was still downstairs.”
Both George and Alex relaxed their postures slightly. Alex moved to one side and held his hand out for George to go through the door first. “Your suitcase awaits. As long as nothing suspicious is inside, you can take it with you.”
“You don’t make the rules. Detective Crank already searched my suitcase and she didn’t find anything.” George shifted his eyes to Leona’s buffet. Annie followed his eye movement and saw for the first time that something was different.
“Calm down, George,” Annie demanded. “You planned to unburden yourself, so let’s get back to that. I think I know what you’re feeling guilty about so open your suitcase and let’s get this over with.” She walked past both Alex and George and led the way to the living room. His suitcase lay on the couch with Roxy curled up on one side, Buddy on the other, and Trouble on top.
Jason put a log on the fire, Alex blocked the door from the living room to the front entryway, and Sarah stood just inside, wringing her hands
Connie munched on her panini as if she was at a spectator event. “No sense letting all this deliciousness get cold.” Crumbs fell from her mouth as her teeth crunched another bite from her sandwich.
Annie picked up Trouble and stroked the purring cat. “I’m sure Leona will be happy to reheat everyone’s dinner when we’re done in here.”
George stuck a small key in the suitcase’s lock. He unzipped the top but didn’t lift it open. The muscles in his jaw worked overtime.
Annie reached around and with one strong movement, flipped the top up. Trouble leaped from her arms and disappeared under the couch.
The glint of something shiny caught Annie’s eye. She reached under folded shirts and pulled out an object wrapped in tissue paper with one corner exposed. As she carefully unwrapped the tissue paper, a beautiful silver candleholder was revealed.
Leona gasped. “I welcomed you into my home and you stole from me?” If her piercing glare could kill, George would have been knocked to the floor in one second flat. He remained standing.
“Oh, George.” Sarah’s words dripped with pain. “You promised you would stop.”
George dug around to the bottom of his suitcase and pulled out the twin candlestick holder. He handed it to Leona. “I’m sorry. Sarah’s right, I did make a promise to her and that’s why I came back. But when you all looked at me like I was some kind of murderer I lost my courage.”
Annie touched George’s arm. “You’ve done the right thing. No harm done, right Leona?”
Leona gave a slight nod as she clutched her treasures to her chest. “Didn’t Detective Crank wonder about these when she searched your suitcase?”
George shrugged. “I told her I bought them as a surprise for Sarah. I’ve perfected my lying over the years to hide my compulsive stealing.”
Sarah sobbed.
“I don’t think this clears either of you, though,” Annie said to George and Sarah. “You did leave your room. I’m sure Detective Crank will be grilling you both when she comes back.”
“Don’t forget,” Connie piped up, “George admitted he went downstairs, so he could have gotten Buddy’s collar off the coat tree.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. She moved close to George. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” One of Connie’s eyebrows ticked up.
“Let’s leave that to the detective. I’ll reheat the paninis. You can all start on the crab-stuffed avocadoes if you like.”
“And more wine?” Connie asked.
“I’ll get the wine,” Jason offered.
As they filed back into the dining room, Annie noticed that Connie moved her glass to the chair next to Alex instead of taking the spot where she had been sitting next to Sarah. Did she think he could protect her from the killer?
Annie followed Leona into the kitchen with a stack of cold paninis. “What do you think of what just happened out there?”
“My meal got cold and they won’t taste as crispy and yummy now.” She turned on the two burners under the cast iron griddle. “Oh, that’s not what you meant, is it?”
“Not exactly. How are you feeling about George stealing from you?”
“Well,” Leona turned around while she waited for the griddle to heat up, “I’ll have to rethink how I decorate any area that’s open to guests, that’s for sure. It caught me completely by surprise and I can’t believe I hadn’t even noticed those candlesticks were missing.”
“Do you think his version of events clears him from being a suspect?”
“Not at all. He was out and about and so was Sarah. Their stories are convenient but I don’t, for one minute, think that they would have confessed to murdering the chef.”
“Yeah,” Annie said as she got the dessert plates ready. “What we’ve got now is Jared, George, and Sarah all wandering around when the chef was in his room. Any one of them could have done something while they were out.”
Leona slid each sandwich onto the hot sizzling griddle. “What about Robin, Alex, and Connie?”
“Alex said he heard the chef’s door open and close several times so who knows which one of them might have slipped into his room.”
“Of course, Alex is in the room next to the chef.”
“Right, and I helped Connie to her bed and she was snoring when I left. Robin? Who knows what she was up to? She could have followed Jared into the chef’s room and stayed.”
Jason pushed the door open into the kitchen. “Can you make a few extra paninis? This is a hungry group out here. Maybe bring in the first batch before you start on the extras.”
“Sure. These are ready if you want to bring them to the table.” Leona stacked the reheated paninis on a platter and handed it to Jason. She placed one to the side. “That one is for you without any ham.”
“No problems out there?” Annie asked.
“Not as long as you don’t run out of wine.” Jason winked at her before he disappeared behind the swinging door.
“I’ll need more pineapple. Can you look over there?” Leona pointed to a stack of crates in the corner. “That’s all the ingredients that Chef Marcel brought. I’m trying to use his food before I dig into what I bought.”
Annie lifted the top crate, filled with spices, nuts, and melting chocolate, off the pile. The crate underneath had oranges, apples, cherries, and a pineapple. The aroma of fresh fruit drifted to her nose as she lifted out the pineapple. “Chef Marcel brought more food than this crowd would be able to eat. Did he give you any idea of his plans for all this stuff?”
Leona joined Annie. She wiped her hands on her apron. “Unfortunately, he didn’t. He stacked it all here and told me not to touch anything. He probably didn’t want to share any of his secrets with me.” She reached into a third crate. “I haven’t even gone through everything yet. This one is full of different types of flours and sugars. Agave nectar? I wonder what he was going to use this for.”
As Leona lifted out the container of agave nectar, an envelope was stuck to the bottom. “Huh, what’s this?” She held the nectar container between her arm and side as she opened the envelope. “Well, well, well.”
“What?” Annie straighten
ed and peered over Leona’s shoulder.
“It looks like his recipe plans for the weekend. I bet Connie would love to see this.”
“Don’t show her. Isn’t that evidence?” Annie said.
“Evidence? Of what?”
Annie shrugged. “I don’t know.
Leona shuffled through the index cards. “We can look, though, don’t you think?”
“And take a lesson from Robin.” Annie slid her phone from her jeans pocket. She clicked photos of each card. “Okay, got them. Put it back.”
Leona slid the cards back into the envelope but they didn’t want to go in. “There’s something else in here.” She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.
Annie snatched it from Leona’s hand and smoothed it flat. After she read the note, she looked at Leona. “Alex said that Chef Marcel had a problem with someone. Maybe this threatening letter is what he was referring to.”
“What does it say?” Leona tried to take the paper but Annie turned away from her.
“Bring the draft of your cookbook for me or I’m going public with your scam,” Annie read out loud. “And it’s signed with a P.”
Annie and Leona stared at each other.
“Phil? Scam?” they both said at the same time.
“Is this why Phil was killed? He threatened to expose a scam?” Leona asked, her arms clutching Annie’s shoulders.
Annie turned and crashed smack into Alex. “You found something?” he asked. His eyes searched her face.
Before Annie could answer, Leona blurted out, “You won’t believe what we found.”
Alex’s eyes narrowed.
The hairs on Annie’s neck rose.
Screeching filled the kitchen.
“Oh no!” Leona dashed to her stove. “My paninis are burning up.”
27
Jason, followed by the remaining guests in the dining room, pushed through the kitchen door. He quickly shut off the two gas burners. “What’s going on in here? Haven’t you had enough drama with the power outage and a murder?”
