by Hillary Avis
“Well, good luck!” she said brightly.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Why are you being nice? And why are you here? Are you trying to get your old job back?”
“No. I’m here because I want to know what happened at the cook-off. Don’t you? I mean, a guy was killed right in front of us.” She sat down in the chair opposite him and rubbed her forehead. “You were friends with him. Did he have any enemies?”
Alex looked taken aback. “Friends? We weren’t friends! I told you, I never—”
Milo held up his hand to stop him. “We saw your yearbook. We know you went to high school together.”
“I knew the guy, but we were definitely not friends. Not after he stole my girlfriend, anyway,” Alex muttered. “We kinda stopped talking after that.”
“You mean Mimi Bolton? The Tenderizer’s sister?” Milo pressed.
“Yeah, how do you think he got that nickname? By pounding my head when I was dating her.” Alex’s face darkened again.
“You must have been upset when Trent married her,” Bethany said gently.
Alex shrugged. “That’s life. Your first girlfriend usually marries someone else, right? Did you marry your first boyfriend?”
Bethany shook her head. “Still must have hurt.”
“What are you saying? You think I poisoned him?” Alex’s face was almost purple now, and a vein in his forehead was throbbing.
“No, no.” She tried to make her voice as calm and soothing as possible. “I just thought—well, you knew the guy pretty well. And you probably stalked him on social media and stuff, right? Just checking up on the guy? It’s only natural, looking up people from your past. Maybe you saw something, heard something...something that’d explain what happened to him.”
Milo arched an eyebrow at her, his expression clearly impressed. Who’s the investigative journalist now, mister?
Alex nodded grudgingly. “I might have looked him up once or twice—just to make sure he was treating Mimi right.”
“And was he?”
Alex frowned and seemed to be debating whether or not to tell her something. Finally, he broke. “If you want to know what went down at their house, you should talk to Clementine Gourd.”
Bethany looked at him with surprise. “Why her?”
“She probably knows him better than I do. I’m not saying any more about it because it’s none of my business—or your business either!” The side door buzzer sounded, and Alex stood up from his chair. “It’s time for my cooks to prep for lunch, so you need to leave right now.”
“Thanks for taking the time.” Milo stuck out his hand and Alex shook it reflexively, shaking his head.
“I regret this already,” he said.
Bethany nodded. “We’ll show ourselves out.” She led the way back out the side door, admitting a couple of employees she didn’t recognize. New hires—nobody stays here long. Either Alex fires them, or they find somewhere better to work.
“What do you think?” she asked Milo, when they were alone in the alley.
“Hard to say. He wasn’t very forthcoming. I think we need to go talk to Clementine.”
She nodded in agreement. “I wonder what she knows. I didn’t know she had any connection to Trent Gallagher, although she did seem pretty upset when he collapsed. I thought it was just her personality, though.”
“Didn’t the judge did say he was afraid of eating her food? I thought it was rhetorical, but maybe it wasn’t.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
They walked together to the front of the Seafood Grotto and unlocked their bikes.
“You want to lead this time?” she asked.
“Yeah, you’re too fast for me! Hey, maybe we should stop and talk to Garrett before we head over to Toast with the Most, since it’s on the way.”
“Good call.” She waited until he was several yards ahead before she pushed off. A few blocks later, and the historic train station came into view. Now even more scaffolding surrounded it, and workers swarmed the upper levels, cleaning and repairing the architectural details on the exterior. The chili cook-off fundraiser must have been a big success despite the tragedy.
The doors to the concourse were locked, so they walked their bikes around to the Honor Roll’s outside entrance. Milo fixed his hair in the bakery window reflection while Bethany quickly chained the bikes together. They entered the bakery, the familiar scent of cinnamon rolls and orange marmalade muffins greeting them. I wonder if Olive gets her spices from Rue the Day, too—I’ll have to remember to ask her.
“Huh. Is it always like this?” Milo asked. “It’s dead in here.”
Bethany looked around the room. Only a few tables had patrons sitting at them. When she’d worked at the Honor Roll last summer, mornings were some of the busiest times. Oftentimes people ate their pastries standing up because no tables were available. “The restoration must be keeping people away. All the commuters are taking the train out of Oldbridge.”
“Hi!” Olive called out cheerily from behind the counter. Garrett sat near her in a chair at the end of the bakery case, reading a newspaper. “Come get something to eat, you two!”
Bethany walked over, Milo two steps behind. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Ah, well.” Olive looked at her hands. “Could be better.”
“I’m sure things will pick up once the restoration is complete,” Bethany said. Garrett snorted. “You don’t think so?”
“Sure they will,” Olive said, her old smile back in place. “Here, have a scone.” She handed them a plate with two strawberry-honey scones and a dish of clotted cream on it.
Milo’s eyes went wide and he reached for his wallet. “Wow, those look great. How much do I owe you?”
Olive waved her hand. “On the house.”
“No, let us pay you,” Bethany said. She felt a pang of guilt about taking free food when she knew things were so tight for them. Plus, she and Milo weren’t exactly there for pleasant reasons. Theoretically, Garrett was still a suspect—and they were investigating him. She pulled a ten out of her purse, but Olive crossed her arms and refused to take it.
Bethany sighed and put it back. “You can’t make her do anything,” she said to Milo.
“Got that right,” Garrett said.
Milo pulled up a chair next to Garrett. “Mind if we chat for a bit? I’m writing up a bio for each cook-off contestant—the winner of the popular vote will have their profile run as the Sunday food feature this week.”
“Fine with me.” Garrett turned a page of the newspaper, keeping his eyes on the page.
“Do you think a cash prize will even be awarded?” Olive asked tentatively. “I mean, after what happened...”
Milo nodded. “Mayor Strauss will announce the prize winner and the popular vote winner on Saturday. Hopefully by then, the judges will agree on who won.”
“Well, my chances are nil to none.” Garrett turned another page. “I lost the cook-off the minute that little rat made me trash my cornbread.”
“You mean Ned?” Bethany asked. “He was just doing his job. He probably had to hold the rulebook because his boss didn’t want to do it.”
“Wasn’t fair,” Garrett said stubbornly. “I would have won if I got to keep it.”
“Well, at least you weren’t the only one. Clementine had to give up her toast, too.”
“Oh, her.” Garrett looked up from his paper. “That woman is shady as all get-out.”
Milo perked up and slid his notebook out of his jacket pocket. “Why do you say that?”
He grunted. “I saw her put something in the chili. Got it out of that big purse of hers. Little bottle. She put a few drops in.”
“Maybe some kind of seasoning?” Bethany asked. Although weird that she’d keep it in her purse and not at her workstation.
“Maybe. Don’t know why she’d put it in just one bowl, though.” Garrett went back to his paper.
Bethany and Milo exchanged a look. Why would anyone put anything in only one j
udge’s bowl—unless it was the poison!
“Do you think she had something against Judge Gallagher?” Milo asked.
“How would I know?” Garrett’s face reddened, and he abruptly folded up the newspaper. “I’m tired. Is it time to go home yet?”
“Almost, dear. I think we’ll close up early since we don’t have much lunch traffic anyway.” Olive’s face was pained as she leaned over and patted Garrett on the shoulder. “You’ll have to excuse him. He wears out easily these days.”
Milo nodded. “I’ll give you a call if I need anything else for the story. We’re sorry to bother you.”
Olive handed them two small paper bags. “Don’t forget your scones!”
“How could we?” Bethany slid the still-warm pastries into the bags and handed one to Milo. “Thanks again, Olive. Take care of yourself, Garrett.”
Milo and Bethany walked back outside. Milo took a bite of his scone while Bethany kneeled and unlocked the bikes.
“Holy wow,” he said.
“Olive’s the best baker in town.” Bethany smiled up at him. “She does these maple nut ones in the fall that are to die for.”
He stashed the rest of his scone in the bag, tucked it into his pocket, and swung a leg over his bike. “Guess we should head to Toast with the Most?”
Before she could answer, a voice called, “Bethany!”
She turned and saw Ryan emerge from the Honor Roll, wearing a huge smile and a paint-splattered T-shirt. His twists were covered with a slouchy beanie that also bore evidence of paint.
“Glad I caught you! I saw you through the bakery window while I was working on the mural inside, but you left too quickly for me to say hi.” He reached out and pulled her toward him, giving her a quick squeeze of a hug.
“Oh.” Bethany felt her cheeks flush. “Hi. Um, Milo—my friend Ryan. Ryan—Milo.”
Milo stuck out his hand. “Good to meet you.”
Ryan wiped his hands on his pants before sharing a handshake. He grinned over Milo’s head at Bethany. “Friend, huh? Does that mean you’re not going to make good on your end of the bargain?”
And I thought this couldn’t get any more awkward. Now let’s talk about our date in front of the other guy I’m dating. Bethany chuckled. “I didn’t say that. We’ll talk about it later, OK?”
“Like tomorrow night, six o’clock, Waterfront Park?”
She swallowed and nodded, eager to end the conversation as soon as possible. “See you then.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He held eye contact with her for a few extra seconds, and she felt her knees turn to jelly. Thoughts of a date with Ryan—of staring into his eyes for a whole lot longer than a few seconds—flooded her mind.
Milo cleared his throat. “Should we get going?”
“Oh. Yes! Sorry.” She wasn’t sure if she was apologizing to Milo or Ryan or both.
Ryan nodded. “Good to meet you, man. See you around, B.”
B—that was new. Nicknames usually repulsed her, the way that baby talk and cutesy endearments did, but for some reason, the familiarity with which Ryan had renamed her made her feel...warm. She blushed again, even though Ryan was already back inside the bakery.
“So. You said you volunteer with that GQ artist guy? At the soup kitchen?”
With that guy. For that guy. However you want to look at it. She nodded.
“Huh. It seemed like maybe a little more than that.”
“Well.” She paused, trying to formulate an explanation that wouldn’t make him feel bad. “When he found out that you and I went on a date, he asked me out, too. Since you and I don’t have anything serious going on, I didn’t think there was any harm in accepting.”
“Right.” Milo ducked his head and stared at his feet. “That’s fine. Totally fine. Yeah, I’m fine with that.”
“I’m sensing that this is not actually fine.”
“Of course it’s fine. If I said it wasn’t fine, that would make me kind of a jerk, wouldn’t it?”
Bethany nodded. “Kind of.”
“And it’d be unfair to you.”
“Yep.”
Milo sighed. Then his hangdog expression disappeared and he looked up at her, grinning. “There’s only one solution to how I’m feeling, then.”
Bethany raised an eyebrow. “Forget this whole conversation ever happened?”
“Nope. We should go on another date.” He sat back on the seat of his bike and crossed his arms, grinning cheekily at her.
“I could live with that.” She kept a poker face as long as she could, and then cracked a grin.
“Tonight?”
While the idea was tempting, it seemed unkind to let Milo cut in line in front of Ryan. She’d just promised him a date tomorrow.
“I can’t tonight,” she finally said. “I hear there’s a big softball game that I have to attend.”
“Oh, right! Man, I’m glad you reminded me. Charley would throw me in jail if I missed it.”
Bethany chuckled. “Probably me, too.”
They set out on their bikes toward Toast with the Most. Milo took the lead this time, but he glanced over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure she was keeping up. They arrived at the restaurant a few minutes later, and Milo locked the bikes to the rack in front. Toast with the Most was the kind of place that encouraged its patrons to use “green” transportation—a sign above the bike rack said “Life’s a Journey—Enjoy the Ride.”
“I’m enjoying it.” Milo pointed at the sign. “Mostly because of the company.”
“The view wasn’t bad.” Bethany winked at him.
He laughed in the most wonderful, spontaneous way, both delighted and surprised by her joke. “I’d say the same of our ride down the hill, but you were too far ahead.”
She shrugged and opened the door to the restaurant. “You’ll just have to use your imagination.” He grinned as he walked past her, and she let the door swing closed behind them.
Toast with the Most was bustling with customers, most of whom sat munching their toast and gazing at their smart phones. Houseplants flourished in every nook and cranny, ethereal electronic music played in the background, and it seemed like every man in the restaurant had a beard or mustache to catch his toast crumbs.
Bethany spotted Clementine behind the counter. Her signature Heidi braids were hard to miss. Much to Bethany’s surprise, Chuck and Ned were there, too. Chuck had his arm around Clementine and was delivering a monologue, punctuating his words by pointing directly into the camera.
Bethany glanced at Milo, and from the expression on his face, it seemed he shared her surprise. She hurried to the counter to eavesdrop on what was going on.
“...want to punch up your brunch? Head down to Toast with the Most and try the new Tender Splendor special. It’s the only brunch with my name on it! You won’t regret it if you do, but you might regret it if you don’t!” Chuck slammed his fist into his palm and held the pose for a few seconds, glaring into the camera lens.
“Good, good,” Ned said. “That was perfect.”
Chuck reached around squeezed Clementine’s shoulder. “It’s not hard to achieve perfection with a beauty like this standing next to you!”
Clementine looked faintly embarrassed as she shrugged off his embrace. “Did I look OK?” she asked Ned.
He nodded. “Great smile. Good for the brand.”
“Are you shooting a commercial?” Milo asked. Chuck, Ned, and Clementine looked over, startled that someone had been watching their exchange.
Clementine nodded. “We’re testing out a new partnership. Toast with the Most will serve Condemented sauce, and Chuck’s going to help us out with promo.”
“Everyone agreed?” Bethany asked, surprised. When she applied to work at Toast with the Most last year, she’d learned it was run by a collective of twelve cooks, each with their own vision of the restaurant. It seemed impossible that they had all agreed to work with an ex-wrestler turned food TV star—especially one as obnoxious as Chuc
k Bolton.
Clementine squirmed. “Not exactly. But once they see how well our new Tender Splendor toast does, they’ll see that it’s a good idea!”
“And you’ll buy the sauce in bulk from Chuck?” Milo looked back and forth between Chuck and Clementine.
“Bolton Enterprises,” Ned corrected quickly.
“Well, it’ll be worth it.” Clementine stuck out her chin defensively.
“Interesting.” Milo made some notes, and Ned maneuvered around behind him in an attempt to see what he was writing. Milo flipped the cover of his notebook shut and smiled at him. “I’d love to hear more about that deal. Is it exclusive?”
“It’s just a trial run,” Ned said. “We haven’t signed anything binding yet.”
“We’re speed dating!” Chuck boomed, and Clementine giggled uncomfortably.
“So you’re trying this pilot program out with more than one restaurant?” Milo raised an eyebrow. “I’d love to hear more about that—maybe do a piece for the paper.”
Chuck beamed. “Sure. What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”
Ned frowned. “We can send you a press kit.”
“No, no, no.” Chuck waved his concerns away. “Let’s have a chat, eat some toast—it’ll be great!”
“Why don’t we sit down, then?” Milo gestured to a table and gave Bethany a meaningful look. “Let the girls catch up.”
The girls. She knew he was just playing to Chuck’s biases, but it was still irritating.
Clementine blew a strand of hair out of her face and crossed her arms as she watched Chuck launch into an animated discussion with Milo. “He told me we were the pilot program—not one of many in the program!”
Bethany leaned an elbow on the juice bar. “Sorry—that’s really obnoxious. But I guess what can you expect from someone like that?”
“I meant Ned! He seemed so decent, and I felt bad for him because of the poison and everything. But I guess he’s just another capitalist.”
You felt bad because you poisoned him, maybe?
“Aren’t we all?” Bethany smiled in what she hoped came across as solidarity. “It looks to me like even if Ned is on the fence, Chuck definitely wants to work with you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Or his hands.”
