by Hillary Avis
“A-ha!” Monsieur Adrian snapped his fingers. “It was not my salad!”
Your salad? Don’t you mean Kimmy’s salad?
“Maybe he was allergic to something in my bread,” Olive mused, and Garrett snorted.
“Nobody foams at the mouth over a gluten allergy. Someone had it out for that kid.”
“Well, it also had garlic and rosemary, dear. It could have been any of those things.” She patted Garrett on the arm. “Don’t fret. I’m sure he’ll be fine and there’s a simple explanation.”
“My minestrone had a lot of ingredients—if it was an allergy, it could have been anything in there,” Bethany said, her heart sinking.
What if I’m responsible for Ned’s collapse? I should have labeled it with ingredients so he’d know to avoid it.
“What was in it, exactly?” Milo asked, his pen poised over his notebook.
Bethany rubbed her forehead. The last thing she needed was another Community Observer article that called her food into question. “I can’t remember everything off the top of my head. I’ll make a list for you later. I don’t think there were any major allergens, though.”
“If it’s not your soup, then what is it?” Alex asked, resting his elbows on the back of one of the benches. “The guy didn’t eat anything else except bread.”
“It could have been something medical, like I said. Epilepsy, or a virus—or a bee sting.”
Alex scoffed. “I don’t see any bees around here.”
“Bees aren’t the only thing that can sting,” Chuck said darkly. Bethany had almost forgotten he was there because he’d been so quiet while he was packing up Ned’s equipment.
Bethany looked over to see what Milo was thinking, but he had his head down, utterly focused on his scribbling. Clearly he had some theories about what was going on.
Ben cleared his throat. “Chuck, you want to head to the hospital with me, now that you’ve got everything together? I’ve got my car outside—I can give you a ride.”
“I’m just going to head back to—” Chuck began, but his voice trailed off as he took in their expressions. “Um, I guess so. That’s the right thing to do.”
Ben nodded and picked up Ned’s duffel. “Wow, this weighs a ton!”
“Glad you’re schlepping and not me!” Chuck said jovially, but his face was strained as he walked toward the door.
After they left, Bethany turned to Olive. “Did I hear that right? Was he just going to go back to the hotel instead of checking up on Ned?”
Olive nodded grimly.
“That’s what I got out of it, too,” Milo said.
“Doesn’t that seem—” Bethany began, but before she could finish the thought, the main doors to the station opened and two police officers entered. She recognized them immediately—it was Charley and her partner Andrew Cooper, otherwise known as Coop. She waved to them, and they quickly made their way over to the group.
“Hey, Bethany.” Charley nodded to her, her expression somber.
Are they here to tell us that Ned didn’t make it? Bethany blinked back the sudden tears that welled in her eyes. “What’s up?” she asked.
Coop looped his thumbs in his belt. “Nobody get bent out of shape. We’re just here as a precaution.”
Milo cocked his head to the side. “A precaution for what?”
“Yeah, what’s going on?” Alex pushed to the front of the group. “Is Ned OK? Is the cook-off canceled or what?”
Charley frowned. “No reason it should be canceled because of Ned’s illness. He’s not a contestant or a judge.”
“What about the prize money?” Garrett asked. “If Ned can’t film for the Ultimate Freakin’ Cook-off, will they still be putting up the purse?”
“Wait one minute!” Monsieur Adrian joined the small group gathered in front of the police officers. “Are you saying the show might not air? What is the point of this if we will not get the TV coverage?”
Bethany pursed her lips. “The point of this is to raise money for the train station, and we can still do that even without a TV show.”
Charley held up her hands. “Hey. You’re all asking a lot of questions that I can’t answer. We’re here just in case.”
Bethany looked her straight in the eye. “In case of what?”
Charley didn’t answer, just gave Bethany a little nod.
Coop answered instead. “In case of foul play.”
Chapter 3
CLEMENTINE GASPED FROM her seat behind them. “Who would want to hurt Ned? He seems like such a sweet guy!”
“We’re not saying anybody did,” Charley said. “It’ll take a while for the toxicology report to come back. Ned may have had a reaction to something in his toothpaste, for all we know. Coop and I are going to take your statements, and then you’ll be free to go cook chili or whatever it is you have planned for the afternoon.”
“Is he dead?” Clementine asked, her voice shaking. “At least tell us that much.”
“No.” Coop adjusted his belt. “Not dead.”
Bethany’s shoulders slumped with relief. I didn’t just see a man die in front of me. He’ll be OK.
Charley and Coop took Alex and Monsieur Adrian to the side and began asking them questions in low voices. Garrett and Olive were engaged in some tense conversation, too. From what Bethany could gather, it seemed like Olive was trying to persuade Garrett to pull out of the competition. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, though, because Clementine was sobbing so loudly behind her.
“Do you want me to find you a tissue?” Bethany offered, but Clementine shook her head.
“I have a hanky. I keep everything in here,” she said, and dug around in her huge purse to find it. Finally she pulled out a flowered bandana and waved it at Bethany, then blew her nose in it. Bethany gave her a thumbs-up and turned back around.
Milo leaned in. “Did you notice Ned acting sick before he collapsed? I was so busy taking notes on everyone’s introductions that I didn’t even pay attention to him.”
Bethany nodded. “I didn’t think much of it at the time, but he did seem unwell. He was sweating, and he looked tired. And he asked for a break, remember? But Chuck said to keep going.”
“Maybe a virus, then,” Milo said, his voice hesitant. Bethany knew what he was really thinking.
Maybe it was poison. A poisoning would be big news in Newbridge—the kind of news that could make an aspiring crime writer’s career. Milo had had his eyes on that prize for as long as Bethany had known him.
“You hoping for a crime, Armstrong?” she teased.
“I’m not hoping. I don’t want criminals loose on the town or anything. I just would love to be one step ahead of Robin for once.”
He meant Robin Ricketts, the current crime reporter for the paper. Bethany had no love lost for Robin—she’d singlehandedly turned the town against Bethany when Bethany’s ex-boyfriend was murdered. Robin’s snarky, manipulative style meant that even the most innocent quote could be taken out of context and used against the speaker.
I’d give just about anything to get her off the front-page byline.
“I know you’d do a better job than she does.” Bethany smiled at him, and he looked away, his ears turning a little pink.
“You think? Robin’s a pretty ace reporter.”
“Yeah, but you have integrity, and that’s everything. I’m not hoping for a crime here, either, but I hope you get a story that will show your editor that you can do what Robin does—and even better.”
“Me, too.” He looked at her with new appreciation. “Thanks, Bethany. I guess all we can do now is wait.”
Bethany scanned the room. “No way. If this turns into a criminal case, now is the perfect time to ask questions—before everyone has their guard up.”
Milo pulled out his notebook. “You’re right. Who should we talk to first?”
Bethany nodded her head behind her, and they both turned and approached Clementine, whose sobs had subsided to mere snuffles. Clementine stowe
d her handkerchief and took a deep breath as they came toward her.
“I don’t know why this is happening,” she said. “It’s all just awful.”
“Maybe nothing happened,” Bethany said soothingly. “Did you notice Ned acting ill today?”
Clementine shook her head. “He seemed fine. He was nice to me. He liked my idea of doing a plant-based chili.”
Bethany wrinkled her nose. “Don’t you want to win?”
Milo choked back a laugh, and Clementine rolled her eyes at him. “Vegan chili is just as good as dead animal chili. Anyway, my ideals are more important than winning.”
“Well, good luck,” Bethany said. You’ll need it. Especially now that the judges probably won’t choose the winner if the TV money goes away—it’ll all be down to the popular vote.
Charley came over with Alex and joined them. “Why don’t we have a chat, Ms. Gourd?”
Clementine nodded and obediently got up to follow Charley, leaving her purse behind.
“How was the inquisition?” Milo asked Alex, grinning.
Alex smirked. “Not too bad. I didn’t have much to contribute, I’m afraid. I’m just here to cook chili.”
“I didn’t know the Seafood Grotto served chili,” Bethany said sweetly. “New menu item?”
Alex glared at her. “You know it’s not. But chili isn’t exactly rocket science, is it?”
“So why bother, then?”
Milo stepped between them. “Break it up, you two. No need to bicker.”
Bethany shrugged. “I was just asking. Alex isn’t usually that interested in stuff like cooking—he’s too busy counting his money.”
Alex crossed his arms. “Something wrong with that?”
Irritation prickled the back of her neck. “No. I’m just surprised you’re taking the time away from the Grotto to do something that won’t help your brand.”
Alex smiled smugly. “It’s going to do great things for the Grotto, just you wait and see. Especially now that Ned...”
“Now that he’s what?!” Bethany said, her eyes widening. “Wait, are you glad he was poisoned?”
“See? I knew you’d twist my words somehow. You always do!” Alex glowered at her. “I just mean now that he can’t keep me away from Chuck. I’m hoping he might be interested in a partnership with the Grotto. We could serve his hot sauce, he could do our commercials, that kind of thing.”
Now it all makes sense. Alex doesn’t care about the contest—he only cares about schmoozing with Chuck Bolton!
“I see. Ned’s been keeping you from your dream partnership?” Bethany raised her eyebrows and gave Milo a pointed look. Milo gave a slight nod to show that he got the message, and tapped his notebook. He was getting it all down.
“He screens all Chuck’s calls. Emails, too!” Alex grumbled. “And you saw what happened when I tried to talk about the Grotto today! Ned totally shut me down. It’s so aggravating.”
“Did you notice Ned acting weird today?” Milo asked. “Like did he seem ill?”
Alex frowned. “Nah. Not unless acting like the runt of the litter is a disease!”
Milo grimaced at Bethany, and she couldn’t help grinning, even though she was equally appalled that Alex would talk about Ned like that. Especially after Ned nearly died! He could be in a coma for all we know!
“I’m outta here,” Alex said, looking over his shoulder at Charley and Coop. “This whole thing is a drag.”
“See you on Sunday.” Bethany saluted him with a smirk on her face. “May the best woman win.”
He snorted. “I guess you mean Clem. Good luck, Clem!” he called toward where Clementine stood chatting with Charley, and then practically ran for the exit.
“What a piece of work,” Milo said. “How could you stand working for that guy?”
Bethany shook her head. “Well, obviously I couldn’t, or I’d still be working at the Grotto. But he wasn’t always that bad. Now he’s starting to sound a whole lot like Chuck Bolton.”
Milo nodded. “Hey, is he just leaving?”
Bethany followed Milo’s gaze to the exit, where Monsieur Adrian was walking out in a huff, leaving Coop looking perplexed behind him. “He’s too important for this, I guess. He’s always on his high horse about something. I thought working for Alex was bad, but Kimmy has it way worse.” She watched as Coop shrugged and went to talk to Garrett.
Caboose emerged from behind the trash can and came to twine around Milo’s legs. Milo reached down to scratch the cat’s cheeks and tugged playfully on his tail. “Hey, little guy. Long time, no see.” Caboose purred and rolled over on his back.
“You’ve got no loyalty!” Bethany scolded Caboose. Milo grinned and knelt, producing some kitty treats from his backpack. Bethany chuckled. “Maybe you do. You know who’s a sucker, anyway.”
“Guilty as charged.” Milo stood up and brushed construction dust off his knees. Olive joined them, beaming as she saw Caboose wriggling on the floor.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen that cat happy since the restoration got underway,” she said. “He really needs to go home with someone until it’s done; he’s just miserable when the workers are here.”
Bethany shrugged helplessly. “I’m sorry, Olive—my lease doesn’t allow pets at the cottage.”
Milo looked down at Caboose, still splayed out on the marble floor. “How long do you think it’ll be?”
Olive beamed. “Four weeks or less. I’ll go get his carrier and food!” She bustled off toward the maintenance closet.
Bethany looked at Milo and grinned. “I guess he’s yours now.”
He chuckled. “I guess so. Can’t say no to that face.”
“Olive’s?”
He scooped up Caboose and nuzzled his fluffy neck. “No, this guy’s!”
Swoon. Bethany cleared her throat and tried to stay cool. “Didn’t I promise you a date one of these days?”
Milo nodded, a smile growing on his face. “Now that you mention it, you did. Free tonight?”
Bethany tilted her head to one side, considering. On one hand, she’d been looking forward to hanging out with Kimmy at home. But on the other hand, Milo Armstrong was getting cuter all the time. “I think I’m available.”
“Great. Have your people call my people.”
Bethany laughed. “I’ll meet you at seven at...?”
He rubbed his head, rumpling up his already adorably rumpled hair. “Ah, shoot, I didn’t think that far ahead. How about Home Plate? I’m in the mood for some diner food, and they have the best burgers in town.”
“Are you two going out tonight?” Olive asked, her eyes twinkling as she returned carrying Caboose’s bright blue kennel and a container of cat food.
“Yep. Bethany’s paying up on the date she promised me weeks ago,” Milo said solemnly. He loaded Caboose into the kennel and clipped the door shut.
“I’m glad to hear it. It’s time she had a little more fun.” Olive winked at Bethany, who couldn’t help blushing. “Don’t be shy—you’ve been single long enough.”
Bethany cringed. So much for playing it cool. You’re killing me here, Olive.
“Hey, Ben’s back!” Olive said. Bethany turned, and sure enough, Ben was making a beeline toward Coop and Charley, who had just finished talking to Clementine and Garrett. “Let’s go see if he has an update on Ned.”
Cheeks still burning, Bethany followed her across the concourse. Milo came, too, carrying Caboose’s kennel and awkwardly juggling the container of cat food and his notebook with his free hand. Bethany did her best not to look him in the eye. He didn’t need to know that it’d been almost a year since the last time she’d gone on a date.
“I was just telling the detectives that Ned’s doing fine,” Ben said when they joined him. “He’ll be shipshape by Sunday, so the show will go on.”
Olive’s shoulders sagged with relief. “That’s good news for the cook-off!”
“Good news for the winner, anyway,” Ben said. “And good news for New
bridge Station. The Lazam Family Foundation has donated enough to upgrade all the mechanical and structural problems—”
“I would hope so!” Garrett interrupted. “They wouldn’t be rolling in the dough if it weren’t for places like this!”
Bethany nodded. Coop was right. The Lazams owned Zamrail, the high-speed trains that ran up and down the entire eastern half of the country. They had a clear interest in maintaining the network of small stations along the coast that attracted tourists and commuters alike.
Ben gave him a long-suffering look. “As I was saying...we’ll be able to raise a lot more money for the cosmetic aspects of the restoration if people come to see the Ultimate Freakin’ Cook-off being filmed. This means we can hire someone to restore the old murals we uncovered when we took down some of the paneling. They’re nearly a hundred years old!”
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” Olive clasped her hands. A former history teacher, she now headed the Newbridge historical society when she wasn’t up to her elbows in flour at the bakery. Hundred-year-old murals were right up her alley.
Bethany smiled at her. “It would be amazing. And they’ll be right outside your bakery windows. You can look at them every day.”
“Not if I don’t win that prize,” Garrett grumbled. Olive shushed him.
“Enough of that talk,” she said. “This is a happy day.”
Bethany looked around at the group assembled. Only Ben looked happy. Charley and Coop wore the serious expressions of detectives on a case. Milo looked distracted as Caboose fussed and wiggled inside his kennel. Clementine’s puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks testified to an emotional and unpleasant day. Garrett glowered at the floor, and Olive’s face was strained. Alex and Monsieur Adrian had been so eager to leave that they were already gone.
And Ned—well, the best that could be said of him is that he isn’t dead.
Chapter 4
FRIDAY NIGHT
BETHANY TUGGED THE hem of her skirt down. Why did I let Kimmy talk me into a dress? This is a diner—I should have worn jeans!
