The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  Bethany shook her head. “Nobody stands out. He’s upset a lot of people, though. As in, just about everybody.”

  Milo looked surprised. “That guy? What’s he doing, peeing in their lemonade?” Bethany wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Milo looked sheepish. “I just meant what’s he doing to rile them up? He’s so mild-mannered. Look at him. He clearly loves his work.”

  Bethany watched as Ned carefully set up a second camera on a tripod to film the judging table. He was meticulous, wiping each part with care before he added it to the assembly.

  “Well, Chuck seems to genuinely dislike him, so maybe he’s not as good at his job as he appears. And everyone else is mad at him because he had to enforce some of the contest rules. He made Garrett and Clementine throw away their side dishes, Monsieur Adrian got called out because Kimmy did all his cooking, and—” she broke off, suddenly realizing how open she was being with him. What if he printed this all as a quote from her?!

  Kimmy would kill me for this kind of candor.

  “Uh, this is all off the record, of course.”

  Milo gave her a strange look. “Yeah, obviously. I report news, not gossip.”

  Of course, I’ve already offended him. So much for this little project bringing us closer.

  “Excuse me?” One of the team of servers approached Bethany’s station. “Is your entry ready to take out to the crowd?”

  “Yes, hold on!” She gave the pot a good stir and then rushed to ladle out portions of her chili into the covered judging bowls. “All set. Be careful with my baby!”

  “Will do.” The server put her huge pot of soup onto a cart marked “#3” and wheeled it out the tent doors.

  Bethany felt like she was sending her first child off to school. “I hope they like it,” she murmured to herself.

  “They will,” Milo said confidently, and Bethany’s stomach did a little flip.

  I guess he’s not too offended. He still likes my food even if he doesn’t like me.

  She watched as the server came back for Alex’s chili with a cart marked “#4.” Ned followed with his camera, capturing every moment on film. As he followed the server out, Alex glared at his back.

  “So what’s his beef?” Milo asked. “You told me why the others are ticked off with Ned, but you didn’t mention Alex’s reason.”

  Bethany shook her head. “I don’t know. I wasn’t there when he was talking to Chuck and Ned. He did say Ned was a wimp, but it was more pitying than angry.”

  “He sure seems mad at him now.”

  Bethany nodded, but she didn’t have time to comment before Chuck turned to face them, flanked by Judge Gallagher and Mayor Strauss. He clapped his hands until he had their attention.

  “All right, contestants! Let’s turn up the heat on this chili-cookin’ contest! Mayor Strauss, a few words?”

  The mayor rose to her feet and adjusted her lapels. “Good morning, Newbridge chefs. We’re delighted to eat your food today. Just do your best. No matter the outcome, the whole city and I are proud of you.” She sat back down, still smiling.

  Chuck rolled his eyes. “Only if you win, folks! Keep your eye on the prize, and don’t let anyone else get in your way! Judge Gallagher, why don’t you explain the format of today’s competition.”

  The judge got to his feet and read from a piece of paper, his voice flat and unenthusiastic. “Each contestant will present their chili to the judges, who will offer their comments. Then the judges will score the chili on taste, originality, and presentation. At the end, the chili with the highest total score will win the cash prize.” He looked up from the paper. “I’d ask if you understand the rules, but I think they’re pretty clear.” He resumed his seat and looked at Chuck expectantly.

  Chuck looked straight into the camera and slammed his fist into his palm. “Let’s tenderize this baby!” He held the pose for an awkwardly long time, then sat down.

  I guess that must make for good reality TV, but it sure makes for a strange reality.

  “Contestant number one?” Mayor Strauss smiled at Clementine, and she brought her tray with three bowls of chili to the judge’s table. She placed one in front of each judge and then stood back, clasping her hands in front of her. From behind, Bethany could see her knees wobbling.

  Can’t blame her for being nervous. Bethany wondered if Clementine was right and the judges wouldn’t taste the difference between her canned chili and one cooked from scratch.

  “Can you tell us a little bit about your dish?” Mayor Strauss prompted.

  Clementine nodded. “Um. It’s vegan. The chewy stuff is textured vegetable protein.”

  “Interesting.” Mayor Strauss took a bite and then paused. “Hm. Very nice.”

  Maybe they can’t tell! Bethany couldn’t believe it. She watched as Chuck tasted Clementine’s dish, too.

  He pushed the bowl away and mugged for the camera. “Tastes like it came from a can—one that’s been stored in a bunker for twenty years. Let me tell you, even in an apocalypse, you wouldn’t catch me eating this chili!”

  Clementine’s lower lip quivered, and she fixed her stare on Judge Gallagher, as though he were her only hope. And really, he kind of is.

  The judge didn’t even take the lid off his bowl. He just used his arm to scoot it away. “If it’s that bad, I’m not interested.”

  “You’re not even going to taste it?” Clementine choked out.

  “I don’t want to get poisoned!” he snapped. Clementine clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob as a server came to clear the judge’s bowls away. Wasn’t he complaining that he was starving two minutes ago? Now he’s too good for canned chili.

  “Thank you, contestant one.” Mayor Strauss motioned Clementine away. “Contestant number two?”

  Monsieur Adrian cleared his throat, tapping his foot impatiently as Clementine trudged back to her station with her shoulders slumped. Bethany felt a little guilty for wishing failure on her—it wasn’t pretty to witness close up.

  Once she’d passed him, Monsieur Adrian made his way to the front and set his bowls in front of the judges. “My masterpiece! I have made the perfect French interpretation of your American dish. Now it is the best chili on this planet.”

  “Thank you. It’s very nice,” Mayor Strauss said. She ate several bites in rapid succession. Even though her comment was the same diplomatic nicety as she’d delivered to Clementine, she clearly enjoyed Monsieur Adrian’s version a lot more.

  “This is the bomb dot com!” Chuck said loudly. “The only thing missing is a little bit of heat—the kind that Condemented can bring! A few drops of my tangy hot sauce and this chili would be a winner!”

  Monsieur Adrian cringed. “No, it is perfect as it is! Any adjustment would ruin the balance!”

  “I agree,” Judge Gallagher said with his mouth full. “This is by far the best chili I’ve ever tasted.” He shoveled bite after bite into his mouth.

  Because it’s a cassoulet. You can’t really compete with duck fat. Bethany glanced at Milo to gauge his reaction, but his face was neutral as he took notes on the proceedings.

  “What’s in the broth? Some kind of wine?” the judge asked.

  “No, I don’t think so.” Monsieur Adrian crossed his arms, looking affronted at the question.

  Wrong-o, it has sauvignon blanc, Monsieur.

  The judge frowned back. “What is that taste, then?”

  Monsieur Adrian shrugged. “My secret ingredient. I cannot tell you what it is.”

  Chuck guffawed. “That’s the right attitude—never give them an inch. Have a seat, chef! Contestant number three, come on up.”

  Bethany took a deep breath and picked up her tray. As she passed Monsieur Adrian, he took off his chef’s hat and wiped his brow. “Sweating?” she asked sweetly, and he glared at her.

  She said a little prayer to herself as she put her dishes in front of the judges. Please, let them be generous in their comments. “I made a classic southwestern chili without beans or tomatoes,” she
said. “I made a custom spice blend, and I also used steak instead of ground meat. I hope you like it.”

  Mayor Strauss took the lid off her bowl and made a pleased murmur as she smelled the rich, spicy aroma emanating from the chili. She dipped her spoon and took a bite. “Very nice,” she said. “Good job.”

  Same comment as the others, but I’ll take it. At least it’s not negative. Bethany focused her attention on Chuck. He examined the texture of the chili, then took a few bites, savoring each mouthful. He looked up at her with an expression of surprise. “You know, this is a solid dish. Great depth of flavor. I’d be happy to eat this in any restaurant.” His wrestling persona seemed to have fallen away completely, and he just looked at her with genuine admiration.

  Behold, the power of food! She grinned and looked to Judge Gallagher for the final word.

  He took one bite of her chili and started choking. His face turned red and tears ran down his cheeks as he flapped his hands, scrabbling for a bottle of water. He opened it and downed as much as possible, then grabbed for another. “Spicy!” he gasped, in between gulps. “Way too spicy!”

  Bethany’s heart sank. There goes any hope of the prize money. She slunk back to her station, avoiding eye contact with Milo. She hoped he wouldn’t dwell on Judge Gallagher’s reaction in his article.

  “Number four?” Mayor Strauss said, but Alex was already in front of them with his tray, passing out the bowls with a look of smug satisfaction.

  Bethany groaned internally. He must be gloating that the judge didn’t like my chili.

  “My chili represents my culinary point of view,” he said proudly. “It includes fresh seafood caught right here in our bay!”

  “Wonderful!” Mayor Strauss exclaimed, and Alex beamed.

  Why does he get a compliment from her, when everyone else just got polite comments? Oh, of course—she likes anything that promotes the local economy.

  Chuck took one bite and made a face. “Fish in a bowl of chili is like a live chicken on a church lady’s hat! Nobody wants that!” A ripple of giggles ran through the tent—even Clementine couldn’t help herself—and Alex’s face turned brick red. Bethany recognized the hue and knew it meant Alex was about to blow his top.

  “What’s your verdict, Judge?” Chuck asked.

  Judge Gallagher spit his bite of chili into a napkin. “This should be illegal!” he declared.

  Alex’s face purpled as he thrust an accusatory finger at the judge. “You people are”—he broke off and glanced at the camera, seeming to have just remembered that the competition was being recorded—“kind to give me feedback,” he finished sheepishly, and made a beeline back to his station.

  There goes that business partnership. There was no way Alex would work with Chuck now that he’d been publicly humiliated by him. It was fitting that Alex had once again tanked a deal because of his own ineptitude.

  “Five?” The judges at the table looked restless and bored. Garrett smoothed his mustache before heading to the front. Then he carefully placed each bowl in front of the judges and stood before them, awaiting their comments as eager as a child at Christmas.

  Go get ’em, Garrett. If I can’t win, maybe you can.

  “I just made it like I like it,” Garrett said gruffly. Ned moved closer to get a good close-up, and Garrett shot him an irritated look.

  “Good,” Mayor Strauss said. She took a nibble from her spoon. “Oh, it’s nice.”

  Chuck took a bite, and then another. “Not too shabby, sir. It’s not groundbreaking—I’ve tasted similar a thousand times before—but I like it.”

  Judge Gallagher shoveled down the chili. He was so lost in eating that Chuck had to nudge him to get his opinion. “Man, this is just like Dad used to make. I love it.”

  Garrett bounced on his toes with pleasure at the comment. He looked so hopeful that Bethany wished for a moment that she’d thrown the competition to him.

  Though now that I think about it, he doesn’t need me to—he has a better chance of winning than I do.

  Judge Gallagher had spit out Bethany’s chili, and Alex’s too—and he didn’t even taste Clementine’s. Monsieur Adrian was the only other real competition, and he didn’t even cook his entry himself!

  Maybe if I tell the judges that a different chef is responsible for creating his entry, he’ll be disqualified, and Garrett will win the money he needs so desperately.

  She sighed. She knew Kimmy wouldn’t want her to reveal that Kimmy’d done the cooking for Monsieur Adrian, and she felt sick thinking about betraying her confidence.

  The judges convened, comparing notes and talking in hushed tones. Bethany closed her eyes. Would it even make a difference if I told? Ned had already ruled that prepared ingredients were acceptable. But an ingredient was a different thing than a whole dish, wasn’t it? And Monsieur Adrian’s whole concept, from beginning to execution, was performed by Kimmy. Anyone could have followed her checklist to create the cassoulet.

  She opened her eyes to see if the judges had reached an agreement. Mayor Strauss looked poised as usual, but Chuck and Judge Gallagher were scowling at each other and arguing in low tones. Ned was circling them with the handheld camera, capturing their disagreement on film.

  I might make a difference here, if they’re arguing between Garrett and Monsieur Adrian. And Kimmy would have to forgive me if it meant that Garrett won, right? Plus, everyone already knows—Clementine even told Ned about Kimmy doing the cooking!

  She took a deep breath and walked toward the judge’s table. “Excuse me. I have some information the judges should know.”

  All eyes in the tent turned toward her, and she felt the breath leave her lungs in one huge whoosh. The small knot of judges broke apart and they returned to the table.

  “What is it?” Mayor Strauss asked.

  “I believe one of the contestants cheated. They had another cook prepare their entry.” Bethany heard Clementine whimper behind her, and she plunged ahead. “I don’t just mean some of the ingredients—I mean the whole thing, start to finish. I know prepared ingredients are allowed, but a prepared dish?”

  “Now things are getting interesting!” Chuck rubbed his hands together. “Who are you accusing, exactly?”

  “She is accusing me.” Monsieur Adrian stepped forward, his face pale but his expression haughty. “I have already explained. My sous chef prepared the components according to my directions, and I assembled them myself here in the tent. Everyone saw.”

  “We saw you reading from a list so closely that your nose was touching it,” Clementine blurted out, and Bethany turned to give her a small smile.

  “I know the chef who made his entry,” Bethany added. “I watched her cook it. It was definitely her concept, her recipe, and her execution. He doesn’t even know what’s in it.”

  Monsieur Adrian looked down his nose at her. “That’s preposterous. Of course I know what’s in it.”

  “Maybe you’re just trying to sabotage your opponent,” Judge Gallagher remarked. “Maybe you’re feeling insecure about your own entry.”

  Bethany felt her cheeks flush, and a cold fear crawled up her spine. They don’t believe me. I need proof. “Remember the question you asked him, about the wine? He denied the chili had wine in it. Well, that’s just a lie—it had three-quarters of a bottle of sauvignon blanc. I saw it go in myself! Why would he lie about that unless he didn’t know? He probably hadn’t even tasted it!”

  All eyes were on Monsieur Adrian then. “So what? So what?” he said angrily. “Everything my employees create, I am responsible for. Without me, they are nothing!”

  Judge Gallagher frowned and consulted the thick rulebook, sliding his finger down the page until he found what he was looking for. He looked up at Monsieur Adrian with a stern expression. “I’m sorry, but you are disqualified from the competition. Your entry won’t be considered for the prize. It’s a shame, really, because you could have won.”

  Monsieur Adrian took off his chef hat and threw it on the ground
. “This is a joke!”

  “Sir, calm down. You need to accept responsibility for your actions. You gave yourself away when you lied to me about your knowledge of the ingredients, and now you must accept the consequences.” The judge breathed deeply as though he was trying to calm himself as well as Monsieur Adrian. He burped. “Ugh. I think I ate that last bowl of chili too quickly.”

  Monsieur Adrian stomped on his hat and stormed out of the tent. Bethany stood there, frozen, until Mayor Strauss motioned gently toward her. “You may take your place.”

  Bethany bit her lip and returned to her station. She trained her eyes on the ground, terrified to look and see what Milo and the other contestants thought of her. The judges resumed their huddle, and she tried to remember how to breathe again.

  “Typical,” Alex said, just loud enough for her to hear. “Bethany the saboteur.”

  “It’s on him—he shouldn’t have cheated!” Clementine shot back. “Garrett and I both had to adapt to the rules, and he should have, too, if he wanted to win.”

  Something about her statement hit Bethany strangely. If Clementine wanted to win, why did she serve such mediocre chili assembled from canned goods? It didn’t make sense—unless, like Alex, she had a different definition of winning.

  Chapter 10

  MILO MADE A BEELINE for the contestants—Bethany assumed because he couldn’t make out their low whispers from where he stood near the judging table.

  “What’s your take on Monsieur Adrian’s walkout?” he asked them as a group.

  “Good riddance,” Garrett said.

  Milo raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sad to see him go?”

  Clementine shook her head. “The rules are the rules. If we have to follow them, he should, too.”

  Bethany grinned. It was fun seeing Milo at work. “I think he should have stuck it out for the judging, just as a courtesy to the rest of us,” she added.

  Milo tilted his head quizzically, his pen poised over his notes. “You think he should have shown you courtesy after you got him disqualified from the competition?”