One Taste Too Many

by Debra H. Goldstein

  Emily nodded. “When Richard was getting his act together, he did odd jobs for Bill around his office and the Civic Center. After he started the culinary program at the community college, he asked Bill for an internship. The school is picky. It doesn’t want to place students at restaurants staffed only with students. Because Grace was already scheduled by the junior college to do a work-study program, Richard was going to have to wait until next term. Bill wasn’t happy with that. Instead, he insisted Marcus put him on the payroll.”

  “Got it.”

  “Even if I wasn’t afraid of what Bill might do, keeping our relationship a secret made sense. There wasn’t extra money to pay another supervisor, and Marcus didn’t trust Jane or any of the others to take charge. Instead, he was doing everything.”

  “And probably nothing well,” Harlan observed.

  “Right. So, we decided he’d handle cooking for the restaurant and all of the catering while I managed the daily restaurant operations and Civic Center activities.”

  “I understand that arrangement,” Sarah said. “But I still don’t understand why you kept your relationship a secret.”

  “If anyone knew we were dating, they might have thought I hadn’t earned my position because of my cooking and kitchen management skills. We didn’t need any extra tension in the kitchen while Marcus resolved the control issue with Bill.”

  “But even with Bill dead, you’ve never gone public as a couple.”

  “Because there’s no longer anything to go public with.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’re just good friends. Between the hours we’ve been working and my commuting to live with Mom and that lack of privacy, plus the financial stresses of Southwind and all the garbage with Jane, I realized being business partners fit us better than a romantic relationship.”

  “Did Marcus agree?”

  “He protested, but then things got crazy with Bill and Jane.”

  “Wait a minute,” Sarah interrupted. “What exactly has been going on between Marcus and Jane? They’ve seemed awfully cozy since Bill died.”

  “It’s purely business.”

  “Monkey business?”

  “No. When Bill was dating Jane, he apparently promised her she’d be top dog. Consequently, she tolerated and played up to Marcus because of Bill and his business arrangement, but she resented taking orders from me. With Bill gone, she’s gunning for my job again.”

  “Or,” Harlan said, “for the entire business. By Bill’s will, it looks like she is Marcus’s partner, even if she isn’t acting like it. Considering everything, I might be able to suggest to Peter Jane had a financial reason to kill Bill, but it doesn’t solve the problem of your prints on the fork and knife.”

  Sarah tried to digest everything while watching Emily shrug and stay silent. It still didn’t make sense. “Emily, Jane said Bill was going to fire you. What was that all about?”

  “I told you. Jane and Richard were the ones who caught me searching the office for an extra set of books or something that truly affected the financials.”

  A movement from Harlan caught Sarah’s eye. She glanced over and saw he was again raising his pencil. “You’re not the bookkeeper. What made you suddenly look at the books?”

  “It was a gut feeling.”

  Harlan and Sarah exchanged glances.

  Cowboy Harlan put his boots back on the floor and resumed the role of Harlan the lawyer. “There is one thing I still don’t understand. Emily, why refuse to see Sarah or help me with your case?”

  Emily didn’t answer.

  “You were afraid Marcus killed Bill to protect you,” Sarah said.

  Emily nodded affirmatively and stared at the floor. “That’s why I needed you to stay at the Civic Center. I was hoping you’d find something to force Peter to consider someone other than Marcus or I could be the murderer.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Emily and Sarah walked down the cement sidewalk from Harlan’s office. His admonishment to “please keep a low profile through the rest of the Food Expo weekend” still rang in their ears. Sarah headed toward her apartment, but Emily veered in the opposite direction.

  “Em, where do you think you’re going?”

  “Drat, there goes Mom’s back.” She pointed to a crack in the sidewalk and then toward the Southwind signage posted at the edge of the shopping center down the street. “I’m going back to work. It’s Saturday night and dinner service is just starting.”

  Sarah closed the gap between them and planted herself in front of her sister. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest. “I don’t get it. Didn’t you hear anything Harlan told us?”

  Emily held her ground. Hands on hips, she matched her sister’s stance. “Of course. He told us to keep a low profile at the Food Expo, but Harlan didn’t tell me I couldn’t work at the restaurant. We’re booked solid tonight.”

  “It’s Chef Marcus’s and maybe Jane’s problem. Not yours.” She pressed on in a low but determined voice. “Emily, I don’t know what’s going on in your head anymore, but you don’t have a financial stake in Southwind and, from what you’ve said, Marcus and you don’t have a current connection either.”

  Emily yanked a black scrunchie from her pocket and cinched her hair into a ponytail. “You don’t have to be an owner to be responsible. I still have a job to do.”

  “For a possible murderer?”

  “That’s a low blow. We don’t know who’s responsible, but I do know the restaurant is short-staffed and needs me tonight.” Emily pushed past Sarah toward Southwind.

  “Nobody, not even you, is indispensable.” Sarah grabbed at Emily’s fast-retreating back. She caught the edge of her jacket. “Think of yourself for a change.”

  Emily tried to twist free. “Let go. You’re not my mother . . .”

  Sarah held on, her foot turning as it slid into the edged space between the sidewalk and the grass. Her balance off, she fell, pulling Emily down with her. They landed on the grass with a thud.

  As they extricated their overlapping arms and legs, Sarah and Emily began to laugh uncontrollably. Emily’s “If Mom could see us now!” comment produced a second wave of giggles.

  Finally catching their breaths, Emily jumped up and offered her hand to Sarah. Instead of taking it, Sarah leaned back, pulled her knees closer to her body, and wrapped her arms around them.

  She looked up at her sister, whose hand remained outstretched. “Em, we’ve got to figure this out.”

  Emily sat back down on the edge of the street curb, her back angled to where Sarah sat on the lawn. “I know, but other than trying to find suspects, too much of it has been too terrible and unreal to think about.”

  “Ignoring everything hasn’t made it go away. Things seem worse than the other night.”

  “I know. I’d hoped that if I kept my head down and stayed in the kitchen, someone else would figure things out for me.”

  “Well, that hasn’t happened.” Sarah scooted beside Emily and the two sisters leaned on each other. “Peter is too convinced you’re the guilty party to look clearly for any evidence that doesn’t fit his conclusion and Harlan, bless his heart, can’t seem to figure out a creative way to get around the letter of the law. Unless we do something, you’re going to go to jail for two murders you didn’t commit, and I’ll probably be joining you because of a missing piece of jewelry I haven’t seen in years.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s another Jane story. Not something we need to get into now.”

  “So, what do our next steps need to be?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sarah said. “Is there anything else at the Civic Center tonight?”

  “Not that the Southwind crew is involved in. With all the confusion, Marcus is closing our booth at seven tonight so everyone is going to work Southwind’s dinner service. We’ll all be at the Civic Center when the cook-off kicks off tomorrow afternoon.”

  Sarah gave her sister a nudge. “I guess you’d better get going. Promise me, thoug
h, instead of focusing on cooking and being a restaurateur, you’ll keep your eyes on everyone. Treat it like one of those reality shows. You tend to be task-oriented, but tonight, put on your private detective cap and figure out who the alliances are and what everyone really wants.”

  “What about you? Don’t you want to come and get something to eat or drink?”

  Sarah checked her watch. “Not tonight. I’ll do some more thinking, but I have a cat that needs me tonight.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Believe me, RahRah, if I thought Peter wouldn’t remember to look for you there tomorrow, I’d hide you back in the rafters and tell everyone you ran away.” She made a face at RahRah, who lay in his spot on the kitchen floor, batting at his rubber mouse toy with one paw. He had no interest in her.

  Sarah stepped over him and turned on the mini-television on the counter above where he lay. She flipped the stations until she found the one showing local news. The broadcast had just started so she watched it for a moment before she resumed packing RahRah’s food, vitamins, and collection of collars and toys into an old cardboard box she’d set on the kitchen table. Picking up RahRah’s scratching post, she examined it carefully. “You’ve certainly used this well.”

  Instead of putting it with RahRah’s other things, she laid it on the table. “I can’t do it, RahRah. I want you to be happy, but not as happy with her as you are with me. Maybe if you drive her a little crazy with your obstinate rotten ways, she’ll opt to give you back to me. Want to try?”

  RahRah turned his head in her direction but continued swatting his toy.

  “Harlan and Peter only told me I have to give you to Jane. Not that I have to make this any easier for her than it is for me.” She took the scratching post and an unopened bag of food and hid them in the cupboard under her kitchen sink. Dropping to the floor next to RahRah, she rubbed the short fur behind his ears. “Don’t worry. I’ve given Jane enough for your first few meals, but she’s going to have to do grocery and toy runs fairly quickly to keep you happy.”

  RahRah let his toy go and stretched his body as he purred in a rhythm that almost sounded like a one-sided dialogue. Sarah smiled as the intensity of his conversation ebbed and flowed with the speed with which she petted him.

  “Are you going to remember to show Jane what happens when you’re not happy? Remember, no honeymoon period. Let Jane see the real you when you’re not happy.” Sarah could have sworn RahRah bobbed his head “yes.”

  They both stirred at the sound of a siren rushing up their street. Subsequent earsplitting sounds came from different response vehicles following the path of the first. She grabbed RahRah and went to the window. Although she could see the rear of a fire truck in the distance, nothing on her block seemed out of place.

  She put RahRah back on the floor. With his tail partially upraised, he sashayed back to his spot. She followed him into the kitchen. A picture of a burning building on the TV caught her attention. White letters flashed across the bottom of the screen—“Shopping Center Fire—More at Ten.”

  Sarah stood transfixed by the television picture, hoping the newscaster would say something about the fire. She was afraid to say aloud what she was thinking. In the distance, she heard more sirens, but rather than going back to the window, she grabbed her cell phone and punched in her sister’s number. She held the phone to her ear, mumbling, “Emily, answer. Answer me, Emily.” The call went to voice mail. Sarah again looked at the television screen. When a stock picture of the shopping center where Southwind was located showed on the screen, she strained to hear the voice-over. She didn’t catch all the words, but she caught enough to pick up her jacket and keys and run from the apartment.

  Sarah thought about taking her car but made the snap judgment she could get closer to the shopping center on foot. She ran the two blocks. Even from her street, she could see smoke billowing into the air in churning gray-black puffs obscuring the white clouds dotting the sky.

  She went faster. When the full center came into view, Sarah scanned the people milling around the parking lot. No Emily. The stores near Sarah appeared intact, but the billowing smoke had to be coming from somewhere. She prayed as she dashed toward Southwind at the opposite end of the strip center.

  Oh, no! Firemen stood in front of the building, their hoses trained on the restaurant’s façade.

  “Emily,” she screamed. She sprinted toward Southwind, but sawhorse barricades stopped her. “Emily,” she cried again, as she looked for a way around them and the people held back from the fire zone.

  No one acknowledged her or moved aside to let her through.

  “My sister,” she shouted, as she elbowed through the crowd.

  Wildly looking in all directions, she saw flames shooting up through the restaurant’s roof. Several people, a few in Southwind attire, were being ushered beyond the parking area. Sarah craned her neck but couldn’t tell if Emily was with them. Hoping, Sarah pushed her way through the crowd and around the various parked emergency vehicles and fire trucks. “Emily,” she called out again and again, a cold sweat wetting her back when she didn’t see her sister in the crowd.

  Sarah spotted the fat officer from the station house shoving and guiding people away from the building onto the grassy area. She grabbed at his arm. “My sister?”

  He stared at her for a moment until recognition softened his features. “Haven’t seen her, but most everyone is already out of the restaurant.” He motioned to where another crowd of people were gathered across the parking lot.

  Most everyone? Most wasn’t good enough. If Emily made it out, where was she?

  Sarah squeezed past him and started toward Southwind.

  The officer grabbed her shoulder and dragged her back as low pops erupted from the building. “You can’t go any closer. There are hotspots in there.”

  Sarah squirmed but froze at the sound of a sharp crack and sizzle. Southwind’s front façade began to crumble. The white plastered wall twisted as it slowly danced downward. Glass windowpanes shattered.

  “Emily!” She jerked from the officer’s grasp.

  Staying out of his view, Sarah inched her way closer toward the end of the building but stopped cold when a trembling hand reached up and yanked the sleeve of her jacket. “What?” Recognition dawned on her as she looked down.

  “Jacob!” She bent to where he sat on the ground, pressing a once-white monogrammed handkerchief to an oozing slash on his forehead. The handkerchief slipped as he shivered uncontrollably. She helped him reposition it. Observing his chattering teeth, she slipped off her jacket and draped as much of it as she could around him. “Help! We need help over here.” She waved frantically, hoping to catch the eye of a nearby EMT.

  “In a minute,” an EMT yelled at her.

  Relieved to have caught his attention, she focused on Jacob. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. I was in the front of the house serving tonight.” A coughing spell interrupted him. He began again, his voice low and scratchy. “I heard a whooshing noise and when I looked toward the kitchen, I saw flames coming from there.”

  “Emily?”

  He shrugged. “She and Chef Marcus were in the kitchen. Grace and I were in the main dining room. When we saw the flames, we tried to get everyone out immediately.”

  Sarah looked around, praying she would see Emily. “Grace was working?”

  Jacob coughed again. “Of course.” He pointed across the lawn. She noticed Harlan on the sidewalk ringing the grass. In the center of the grass, Grace sat holding a child.

  “I guess Grace must be better.”

  He dabbed his forehead with the blood-soaked handkerchief. The bleeding had slowed, but not stopped. “She’s tough. They wanted to keep her for observation, but once she was hydrated, she insisted on being released.”

  “I’d have thought she’d go home, not to Southwind.”

  He stared at her. “She knew how shorthanded we were. She came to help. Chef Marcus tried to send her home, but she i
nsisted on staying.”

  “He let her?”

  “Yeah. We really needed her. Jane decided to take tonight off and well, we didn’t think Emily would be working.”

  Sarah nodded. She knew where they all thought Emily was going to be. But where was she now?

  “Chef said . . .” Jacob struggled to catch his breath as he coughed. “Chef said Grace could sit behind the bar and run the cash register. He told her if he saw her do anything else, he was sending her home.”

  An EMT hurried over. Sarah stood and backed away, relinquishing her charge into his care. As he eased the handkerchief from Jacob’s head, Sarah hoped the wound wasn’t deep enough to mar Jacob’s soot-covered but good-looking face. She didn’t have time to wait around to find out. She had to find Emily.

  Still not seeing her, Sarah moved closer to the blocked-off area. Emily had to be okay. Her sister was too strong and too bullheaded to be anything but fine.

  Firemen hosing down the front of the building prevented her from getting closer. Pieces of the building seemed to float away like chalk dust in the air. A loud crunch refocused everyone’s attention to the side of the building.

  A firefighter burst out of the building through a break in the wall carrying a soot-covered body. Sarah felt like her heart was in her throat as other firefighters drenched him and the limp person he carried. Behind him, a black mountain lumbered out, dwarfing the fireman.

  It slowly registered with her that the mountain with the tattered pants was Marcus. Sarah screeched. She ran toward the fireman. There was no question in her mind that the diminutive figure he carefully laid on a gurney was Emily.

  She was within ten feet of the gurney when two other firefighters blocked her, saying even if it was her sister, she needed to stay out of the way. Praying, she kept her eyes focused on the unmoving person and listened as commands were shouted. When she saw the person on the gurney swat an arm at the EMT starting an IV, her legs wobbled with relief. She realized her unspoken words had been answered.

  She was alive. Emily was alive and okay.

  Sarah let her watering eyes wander to where other EMTs were trying to work on Marcus. He appeared to be refusing their help, his attention on Emily. Only after she was being loaded into an ambulance did he let himself slip into a seated position on the ground so the EMTs could tend to him.