One Taste Too Many

by Debra H. Goldstein

  Once the taster moved away, Sarah motioned to Jacob. He put down his serving ladle and came over to where she was sitting. “Did Grace really go to the nurse’s station?”

  “Yes. She thought she ate something bad because suddenly she started having stomach cramps.”

  “Maybe Jane’s right about Grace having a bug.”

  Jacob flicked a crumb off the table separating his station from Emily’s. “I don’t think so. Grace is the type who scares germs away.”

  They both laughed.

  “By the way, Sarah, Grace wanted me to tell you she ran over to the store and picked up the items you might need. She also whipped up a few samples, just in case. Everything is in the refrigerator near the stage.”

  Emily, still seated, but listening, interrupted. “I don’t understand.”

  Sarah raised her shoulders and put her hands somewhere between an “I give up” and “Just stay put” position as she watched her sister grimace and wipe her forehead with the back of her arm. “You remember me checking with you the other night about what things you needed for today’s demonstration?”

  Emily nodded and tilted her head in Sarah’s direction as if that would make it easier to catch the rush of words Sarah mumbled. “Well, Grace and I weren’t sure if you’d make it back or be stuck at the police station. To be safe, Grace offered to pick up the few things in case I had to do a funny food demonstration. Apparently, she also whipped up a few samples of my recipe.”

  “Grace or I could have done a real demonstration if you hadn’t gotten back.” Jacob flicked his finger at another crumb. He put his head back down, but not before Sarah glimpsed his features were settled into a pout. He grabbed a sponge and vigorously rubbed the tablecloth.

  “Of course you could have done it perfectly.” Emily’s stomach rumbled. She pressed her hand against it. “I was only kidding when I told Sarah she’d have to do a funny presentation, Jacob. I wouldn’t have had her take my place.”

  Jacob looked up again, his boyish good looks restored. “Well, none of us thought you were kidding, did we, Sarah?”

  Sarah shook her head.

  Jacob leaned forward. “Before Grace went to the nurse’s station,” he whispered, “she told me she didn’t have time for lunch so she ate a few of Jane’s brownies. When her stomach started hurting, she wondered if they were Ex-Lax brownies.”

  “That would be a mean trick to play,” Emily said, “but we all ate the brownies and nobody else is sick.”

  Sarah stared at Emily. “Are you sure of that? I was too nervous to eat a brownie when I first got here. When I finally considered having one, I decided to save my calories and take out the garbage instead.”

  “I didn’t eat one, either. I had so many ingredients to taste in my dish that I wasn’t hungry.” Jacob started to add something but noted two people approaching his serving station. “Need to get back to work.” He flashed a showman’s smile at Sarah.

  Emily stood, her hand resting on her stomach. “I’m going to check on Grace.”

  “And maybe,” Sarah suggested, “have the nurse examine you, too?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Forty-five minutes before the food demonstration, Jane left the booth. Emily had yet to return. A sensation of déjà vu ran through Sarah. She couldn’t help but remember the last time Emily hadn’t been back well in advance of a scheduled activity, Sarah found her sitting with a dead body. She certainly hoped that wasn’t the case again.

  Even though Sarah and Grace had prepared for the possibility of Emily not being able to handle the demonstration, neither of them thought it would really be the case. Now Sarah prayed she wouldn’t be pressed into service today. She wasn’t sure she could do it. The idea made her feel sick to her stomach, even though she hadn’t eaten a brownie.

  She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her sister. Emily’s ringtone sounded from somewhere to her right. Looking down, her eyes rested on the edge of Emily’s purse and jacket, where she’d tucked them under the table. Sarah hit the end button on her phone and glanced at the time. She decided she better find Emily.

  Because Emily had said she was going to the nurse’s station, Sarah headed in that direction. As she turned into the hallway near the medical area, she heard people arguing. She slowed to avoid popping into the middle of their fight. Sarah was about to make noise so they would hear her coming when she realized it was Marcus and Jane. She inched forward, hoping to hear more clearly.

  “You’re not going to say anything.” Jane’s disembodied voice was controlled, but harsh. “Not if you want your restaurant to succeed.”

  Sarah couldn’t hear Marcus’s reply, but from the sound of Jane’s voice, she was moving in her direction. Sarah looked for somewhere in the hall to hide, but there wasn’t an opening to slip into. Instead, she decided the best defense would be to go on the offense.

  She stepped into the hallway. Marcus was entering the nurse’s station. He had his back to Jane, who still was talking. “Do you understand me?”

  Sarah didn’t wait to be noticed. “Hi, Jane. Have you seen Emily?”

  “She’s in there.” Jane nodded toward the nurse’s station and squeezed her way past Sarah, barely missing making bodily contact.

  “Thanks,” Sarah called to Jane’s moving back. She peeked through the glass panes in the door of the small room being used as a nurse’s station. Neither Grace nor the nurse was in sight, but her sister was sitting on a gurney, crying. Marcus now stood over her, waving his hands wildly.

  Sarah pushed the door open.

  Emily turned her head toward the door, but Marcus, intent on his rant, apparently didn’t hear Sarah. “I can’t let you.”

  “You don’t have a say in this. You’re not in charge of me!” Emily stood but swayed. Sarah moved to catch her, but Marcus was faster. He grabbed Emily and held her tightly, his legs pressed against the gurney.

  “You mustn’t.” He ran his hand across her hair and down to her chin. Gently, he tilted her face toward his. “You’ve done so much for me. It’s enough already. I’m going out there and call this charade off. I’m to blame and it’s time I admitted it to everyone.”

  Emily held his arm, but he shook her off. As he turned toward Sarah and the door, Emily shouted, “Marcus, stop! You can’t. That will be the end of you and Southwind.”

  Sarah tightened her leg muscles and put her hands forward, anticipating the bulldozing effect of Marcus’s weight because he’d started into motion before realizing she was there. The impact never came. Instead, he crumpled onto a wheeled stool next to the gurney and stared at the floor. Deciding he wasn’t having a heart attack or other medical emergency, Sarah stepped around him to reach her sister.

  “Em, what’s going on? Did he hurt you?”

  Emily shook her head and wiped her eyes with her hands. Keeping Marcus in view, Sarah pulled a tissue from a box on the counter and handed it to Emily.

  “I’m fine or will be in a few hours. I just hope Grace will be, too.”

  “Grace? Where is she?”

  Marcus lifted his head, his face contorted. “Poor Grace.” From the way he blinked, Sarah wondered if he was about to cry, too, until he said, “I swear I’m going to kill Jane.”

  “Marcus!” Emily said sharply. “Don’t make threats like that! With everything that’s happened, someone could take them the wrong way.”

  The intensity of her sister’s reaction shocked Sarah. As she weighed Emily’s retort, it dawned on her what Marcus’s anger, the absence of the nurse, and her sister’s pallor and tears could mean. For a moment, she couldn’t get the words out. “Oh, my God! Is Grace dead, too?”

  “No. Or at least we hope not.”

  Marcus stood, his fists clenched. “I will personally wring Jane’s neck like a chicken if Grace dies.”

  Emily leaned around Sarah and put her hand on Marcus’s hand.

  At her touch, he eased his fist open.

  “Don’t even think like that. The doctors at the hos
pital won’t let Grace die.”

  “Hospital? Could one of you please tell me what’s going on? What happened to Grace?”

  Emily started to answer but bent and grabbed her stomach again. Both Sarah and Marcus moved to help her, but she waved them away. She took a deep breath and sat up straight again. “I’m okay. It’s just a cramp.” She focused her gaze on Sarah. “Ex-Lax brownies.”

  “Jane’s?”

  “She won’t admit it, but we think so.”

  “We know so. Grace wouldn’t have poisoned herself or you.”

  Emily nodded. She banged her hand on the gurney. “Although Jane claims she ate a few of them, it appears Grace and I were the only ones who actually snacked on them. I nibbled two I took to the station with me this morning, but Grace lunched on them. We began having similar symptoms at almost the same time, except Grace’s are much worse.”

  “It could be a virus.”

  Emily shook her head. “If that was the case, I doubt we would have started being sick at almost the same time. I can’t prove it, but I’m convinced Jane poisoned us to knock us out of the Expo. Not that that matters now. Other than a twinge or two, I’m okay. It’s Grace we’re worried about. She’s diabetic and this knocked her for a loop.” Emily winced again but then relaxed.

  “But you said they took her to the hospital?”

  “The paramedics did. Normally, Grace is well controlled, but she really messed up having the brownies instead of a decent lunch,” Marcus said. “The nurse here thought her sugar level was way off, probably because when the Ex-Lax kicked in, she dehydrated.”

  “Grace objected, but the nurse called the paramedics. They’d started an IV and were taking her to the hospital when I got here.”

  If there had been another chair, Sarah would have sat. Instead, she backed up and held on to the counter the tissue box sat on. “Oh, no. I feel horrible. She skipped lunch to get everything ready in case I got stuck having to cover for you. If I hadn’t asked her to help me out, she would have had time to have eaten something other than the brownies.”

  “It’s not your fault. We all gave her things to do.”

  “The only person at fault is Jane,” Marcus declared.

  “But we can’t prove that,” Emily sighed.

  “Maybe we can test one of the brownies?”

  Emily shook her head. “I don’t remember the brownie plate still being in our booth. The main thing we can do is pray Grace will recover quickly. With just the little bit of fluid from the IV, she already claimed to be feeling better. In fact, she wanted to stay and help, but I convinced her we’d be okay and her health was more important than this expo.”

  “That sounds a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.”

  Marcus bent his massive body, putting his face close to Emily’s. “Sarah’s right. You need to take your own advice. You don’t need to make a presentation today.”

  “But I do. For Southwind.” She squeezed his now-relaxed hand, keeping hers resting on his for a moment. “I’m fine, honest.”

  Sarah doubted that, but at least her sister didn’t look like she was in major danger. The same couldn’t be said about Grace. “What about the cost of going to the hospital? Does Grace have insurance?” Having had six months without insurance after her divorce, she was sensitive to the potentially devastating economics of being uninsured.

  “Grace has student insurance.”

  Sarah cocked her head at Emily, totally confused. “Student insurance? I thought she’s a line cook doing an internship.”

  “She’s good enough to be a professional, but she’s still a culinary student at Carleton Junior College. She works at Southwind under a work-study system. The restaurant pays her a set student stipend, Marcus grades her work, and she receives college credit. Luckily, any term a student is enrolled, the college requires them to carry a college health policy.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  “Even so, Jane needs to take responsibility and pay for what she’s done.” Marcus slammed the fist Emily wasn’t holding against the gurney.

  Releasing his hand, Emily pointed to the clock. “Come on. We need to get over to the stage. Let’s get even with Jane the best way—beating her at her own game.”

  Marcus and Sarah jointly blocked her path to the door.

  “Em, I agree with Marcus. Shouldn’t you go to the hospital like Grace?”

  Marcus, talking over Sarah, was more definitive in his assessment of the situation. “Your health is worth more than this expo. Don’t be a martyr.”

  Emily waved them both off. “Other than a few cramps now, I’m fine.” She laughed. “Honest, a smelly fart isn’t going to endanger anyone’s health, so I’m good to go. Guys, we can’t roll over and play dead for Jane.” She again rested her hand on Marcus’s pulpy fist. “Look, I may not win, but after everything, we can’t give her the satisfaction of doing whatever she wants to Southwind and all of us. If I can help it, she’s not going to automatically end up with everyone’s red chips in her basket.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The crowd for the recipe presentation was much larger than Sarah anticipated. She didn’t know where all the people had come from for the Saturday afternoon session. If this was a final cook-off, she might understand it, but merely to learn a few new recipes? She hadn’t realized Wheaton and, of course, Birmingham, had so many foodies. Under normal circumstances, this wasn’t where she would be spending her Saturday afternoon.

  She couldn’t say the same thing about Emily. At least, Emily wouldn’t be onstage constantly. When Marcus had been unable to dissuade her from participating, he had decided, as emcee of the recipe demonstration, that the chefs should alternate their performances like today’s reality television singing competitions. This way, Emily would have a break from being in the public eye between her two presentations.

  So far, Emily had shown the audience her version of making a rhubarb crisp and then escaped off the stage while Jane and the other presenters took their turns. Other than a couple of times when Emily smiled tightly and gripped the table or hid her face by bending into the refrigerator, both, Sarah guessed, to hide a wave of pain, Emily’s rhubarb crisp demonstration had gone well. Watching Emily leave the stage after it, Sarah was very proud of her two-minutes-younger sister.

  After Emily’s presentation, while the sisters stood in front of the stage as Jane presented the art of making corn pudding, Harlan joined them. He was back in his lawyer attire of bow tie, well-creased slacks, and a blazer.

  “I thought you preferred to avoid crowds.” Sarah waved her hand at the folks packed in around them.

  “Normally, I do.”

  “Well, at least you found time to squeeze your exercise in today,” Emily said.

  Harlan raised an eyebrow in her direction. “Till it was cut short.”

  Sarah laughed but abruptly stopped when she caught sight of Peter coming in their direction. Harlan shifted his stance and muttered something under his breath. Sarah didn’t catch his comment because, once again, she was reflecting on the fact that while most men looked sharper in uniforms, Peter’s didn’t flatter him anymore than the frown on his face.

  “What did you say?” she asked Harlan.

  When he failed to reply, she glanced at him. His jaw was tight and the little vein on his forehead had popped out.

  Ignoring her question, he stepped between the twins and Peter. “Peter, what are you doing here? I thought we agreed you would wait until after this was over.”

  Peter glanced beyond Harlan to where Emily stood. “That was before I knew there’d been another murder attempt.”

  Sarah stared from Peter to Harlan and back again. Onstage, Marcus thanked this round’s competitors and reminded folks that, even though there were more presentations to come, samples were available at each of the exhibitor’s booths. “Don’t forget, at the end of today’s demonstration, you’ll be able to add to your favorite chef’s vote count by dropping a red token in the bowl on the edge o
f this stage marked with that person’s name.”

  Peter ignored the action on the stage. “Emily Johnson, you need to come with me.”

  “Peter. What’s going on?” Sarah asked.

  He didn’t respond to Sarah. Instead, he kept his focus on Emily, whose motionless arm he was now holding.

  “Emily, I’d rather walk you out of here without handcuffs, but it’s your choice. You’re under arrest for the murders of William Taft Blair and Richard Brown. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of . . .”

  Emily simply stared at him as he recited her Miranda rights, but Sarah tugged at Peter’s shirtsleeve. When he shook her off, she jerked around to Harlan.

  “Harlan! Do something!”

  “I’m sorry,” Harlan said as he took Emily’s other arm.

  She didn’t pull away. Instead, Emily stood frozen, with her eyes wide open.

  Sarah stuck her face in front of Harlan’s. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

  He hung his head. “Yes, but Peter and I agreed he would wait until after the food demonstration and give me an opportunity to talk to both of you so Emily could turn herself in. Something must have changed.”

  Peter began to push the crowd aside.

  Forced to move, Sarah grabbed the back of Peter’s shirt. “Peter, no.”

  He shook free and kept moving, using one large arm to support an almost limp Emily.

  “Harlan, do something!”

  Wordlessly, Harlan and Peter began escorting Emily away from where Sarah stood.

  “I’ll come with you, Emily,” she yelled.

  “Is something wrong?” one of the men standing closest to them asked.

  “No.” Emily dug her feet into the floor and pulled away from Peter, swiveling back to face Sarah. “Stay here and try to find out what’s really going on. Finish for me.”

  “I can’t. I can’t go up there.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ve done my main recipe. All you have to do when Marcus calls for me is go onstage and pretend you’re doing a comedy routine with that recipe you found. Do this for me. Please.”