The Complete Death Du Jour Mystery Collection

by Hillary Avis

  “Thank you very much for participating in the show under such trying circumstances,” he said in a brittle voice. “You are all excellent chefs and we were lucky to have you as part of the Ultimate Freakin’ Cook-off. I hope you’ll be happy with the show when it airs. Go ahead and take your seats, but please stick around after the event in case I need some follow-up shots.”

  He turned and gently escorted Mayor Strauss back to her seat behind the podium while the rest of them took their seats and the crowd noise settled to a low rumble. Kimmy grinned at Bethany as she passed on the way back to her seat, and Bethany gave her two thumbs-up and a little squeal of excitement.

  When she sat down, Milo nudged her with his elbow. “Well done,” he said quietly.

  She frowned. Why was he congratulating her, when she hadn’t won a thing? “What do you mean?”

  “I saw you up there—you were genuinely happy for Kimmy.”

  “Of course! She’s my best friend.”

  Milo shook his head, chuckling. “Not a lot of people are one hundred percent happy to lose a big competition like this. Nobody else up there was. You’re one of a kind, Bethany Bradstreet.”

  Bethany flushed. “It’s easy to lose to someone who deserves it.”

  “If you say so, but I think—” Milo seemed to have something else to say, but he was distracted by Chuck Bolton taking his place at the podium again, holding another giant check, this time made out to the Newbridge Station Historic Restoration Fund. He launched into a lengthy speech about how amazing the Ultimate Freakin’ Cook-off was for bringing business opportunities to small towns like Newbridge.

  “I was born in a small town in New Jersey not unlike this one. I’m probably the only important person ever born there!”

  Bethany sighed. Of course we have to sit through a bunch of self-congratulations before we can call it a day. Even Ned looked bored behind the camera.

  Bethany’s eyes wandered to the other contestants. At the food service table, Clementine was checking over her plates of tiny toasts, wiping crumbs from the edges of the serving platters with a clean white cloth. She’d really upped her game to cater this event, and she didn’t seem preoccupied with losing. Maybe because she never expected to win in the first place.

  In the front row, Alex had his phone out and was engrossed in typing something with his thumbs. Probably complaining about Kimmy’s win—or complaining that Chuck Bolton made a Condemented deal with a toast restaurant instead of the Seafood Grotto.

  Kimmy was enduring hugs from Olive, who still had tears pouring down her cheeks. Garrett sat stoically beside them, but Bethany saw him sneak an arm around Olive’s back and pat her comfortingly.

  “...and that’s when I came up with the genius idea of a condiment that works with all cuisines—Latin, Asian, Mediterranean, even plain ol’ American!” Chuck paused, waiting for applause. A smattering of clapping and he resumed his patter, sounding like the host of a home shopping channel. “I spent years developing the recipe. Why? So I could bring the absolute best product to home cooks at a low, low price point. I put all my blood, sweat, and tears into perfecting my hot sauce. I basically didn’t do anything else. I didn’t even date!”

  Behind Chuck, Bethany spotted Ben stifling a yawn and giggled to herself. When the person waiting for your big fat check is falling asleep, you’re doing something wrong!

  “And now I’m gonna tenderize this train station!” Chuck grinned and held the check over his head. “Come on up here, Ben!”

  Ben stood and the crowd clapped loudly. Bethany joined in, grinning widely at Ben’s elated expression. He looked almost dazed as Chuck presented him with the check, like he couldn’t believe it was actually happening.

  Chuck slapped Ben on the back and then gave his arm a hard pinch. Ben’s mouth dropped open and Chuck laughed. “No, this isn’t a dream, buddy. The Ultimate Freakin’ Cook-off has singlehandedly saved this place from rotting into the ground!”

  Ben’s face fell and his eyes darted over to where the Lazams sat in the front row. He leaned toward the mic. “I’m grateful to the many people who made this restoration possible. Thank you.”

  That’s Ben—ever the diplomat.

  “Maybe Ben should run for mayor against Strauss now that Gallagher is out of the picture,” Milo said under his breath, jotting something in his notebook.

  “That’s not a terrible idea.” Bethany said it as though she hadn’t been thinking the same thing herself.

  Milo grinned. “I do have not-terrible ideas sometimes.”

  Chuck and Ben shook hands on stage, and then Ned gave the signal to wrap it up. Chuck finished with the same outro he’d given earlier. “Tune in next week...”

  Finally, as the crowd’s applause petered out, Ned put down the camera, and everyone on stage visibly relaxed. The Lazams got up and congratulated Ben, and Ben congratulated Kimmy. Chuck wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. All that patter must be hard work. He seemed relieved it was over, but then his face darkened as he looked at the podium.

  “Where’s my water?” he snapped. The mic squealed as Ned turned it off and then reached into the bag hanging at his side. He pulled out a bottle of water and Bethany froze.

  This is it. It’s happening. Charley hadn’t noticed yet. Her view of Chuck was blocked by Mayor Strauss, who was shaking hands with the Lazams. Ned extended the bottle of water to Chuck and it seemed like time slowed.

  Bethany grabbed Milo’s arm and pointed to the front of the room. “That’s it! That’s the poison! It’s in the water bottle!”

  “You sure?” he asked urgently. Bethany nodded and he leaped to his feet.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Don’t drink that!”

  Chapter 21

  MILO’S SHOUTS WERE drowned out by the chatting and laughter of the crowd as they shuffled from their seats toward Clementine’s platters of toast. Chuck was already reaching for the water. It was too late to stop him from way in the back of the room! Unless...

  Bethany dug the grubby softball out of her purse and shoved it into Milo’s hands. “You’re the best pitcher in the league, right? Now prove it.”

  Milo glanced at the ball for only a millisecond before he threw it overhand with all his might toward the podium.

  CRACK!

  The water bottle flew out of Chuck’s hand, tumbling end-over-end onto the floor behind him. He jumped back, shaking his hand as though it’d be stung by the ball—and maybe it had! Charley, instantly gathering what had taken place, leaped to her feet and grabbed the bottle. Ned stood there stunned for a moment, then looked around wildly for who had thrown the ball.

  “Nice throw!” Bethany said, grinning at Milo, who looked frankly shocked that his wild pitch had hit its target.

  “I can’t believe that actually worked.” He shook his head and swooped her up in a hug. “That actually worked!”

  She giggled as he spun her around and then set her gently down. “Way to go! You saved the day.”

  “Maybe not the whole day,” he said teasingly.

  “The Tenderizer probably thinks you saved the whole day.” Bethany pointed at Chuck, who was staring openmouthed at Ned. A tide of realization was spreading across his face, and as it did so, the shock transfigured into anger.

  Chuck grabbed the mic from the podium and turned it on. His amplified voice made everyone in the crowd stop their conversations and turn their heads. “We’ve been friends for twenty years, man. Why would you do something like this? You could have killed me!”

  Ned’s face tensed and he appeared to be weighing a decision. Then he lunged toward Chuck and swiped the mic from his grasp. Chuck stumbled backward and Ned smirked.

  “Didn’t see that one coming, did you? Of course you didn’t, you idiot, because you don’t see anything except your own reflection in the mirror.”

  Chuck’s forehead creased with confusion, and Ned laughed humorlessly.

  “You still don’t get it. You can’t treat someone like trash for de
cades and expect them to be your little lapdog. You can’t steal their work, pass it off as your own, and then just leave them in the dirt. This show, your career, Condemented—they’re mine as much as yours.” He turned to the crowd. “Every recipe you’ve ever cooked from his cookbook? I created. Every meal he’s cooked on TV? I cooked. Bet you didn’t know that, either—no one does. It’s been happening since we were in high school and he made me cook for the girls he liked and pretended he’d done it himself. How would you like it if someone stole your life’s work and gave you a measly hourly wage in return, while they made millions?”

  Ned was so engaged in spilling his soul before the crowd that he didn’t notice Charley approach. She took the mic from him and spoke into it. “OK, show’s over. We’ll take it from here.” She switched it off and set it back on the podium while Coop spoke quietly to Ned. When he finished, Ned calmly placed his hands behind his back and Coop handcuffed him and led him out of the station.

  Milo was frantically scribbling in his notebook. “Wow, wow, wow. I can’t believe this! This is too much.”

  “Hey, you’re not only going to have a front-page byline, you’re going to be front-page news yourself!” Bethany nudged him. “You’re a hero. I can see the headline now: ‘Celebrity saved by Armstrong’s strong arm.’”

  He looked up at her, his warm brown eyes sparkling as he shook his head. “You’re the hero. You figured out what was going on and had the idea to use the softball. You’re the brains—I’m just the muscle.”

  He flexed jokingly, and Bethany died a little inside. Muscles, indeed.

  He laughed at her expression. “One question, though. How did you figure out it was Ned who poisoned Trent Gallagher?”

  Bethany’s eyes darted to Ryan. Of course, he was staring right at her, so she quickly looked away, blushing. “Last night it just occurred to me that the killer might hide in plain sight by pretending to be one of the victims. And Ned was the one who was handing out water bottles at all the cook-off events, so it’d be easy for him to distribute poison to anyone he chose. It was just an accident that Judge Gallagher drank from the wrong bottle.”

  Milo raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Ned faked being poisoned? I was there, and it seemed pretty convincing to me.”

  “No—he had poison in his system at the hospital. I think he took a very small dose himself, one he knew wouldn’t be fatal.”

  “Phew. That’s commitment. He must have really hated the guy.” Milo nodded to where Chuck was sitting, dazed, his head in his hands, while Charley asked him questions. “The Tenderizer looks totally tenderized.”

  “I’m sure he’s blindsided. He thought he had a loyal sidekick, but really he had a vengeful rival. It’s straight out of a comic book.” Bethany shrugged.

  “No kidding. Hey, I have to go, but before I do...” Milo leaned toward her and gave her an impulsive peck on the cheek. Her hand flew to her the spot he’d kissed as a smile spread across her face. “Do me a favor, would you? Since I saved the whole day?”

  She nodded. “Anything. Name it.”

  “Let me take you on that second date.” He held her gaze until she nodded again. Then his shoulders relaxed and he grabbed his jacket and notebook. “OK then—I’m happy. We’ll talk!” With one more grin over his shoulder, he dashed for the door. Bethany watched him leave, unable to keep the stupid grin off her face.

  “I think he likes you.” Ryan’s amused voice came from behind, and Bethany whirled to face him, her cheeks aflame.

  Why did he have to see that? Bethany couldn’t bring herself to make eye contact.

  “Hi,” she mumbled. Then, realizing she probably seemed rude, she gestured to the mural on the other side of the concourse. “Congrats. It looks amazing. You are really talented, Ryan.”

  His face fell. “I didn’t come over here for praise.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor, too.

  “What, then?” She swallowed hard and tried to harden her heart in preparation for whatever message he planned to deliver. He has every right to rub it in a little—I was so callous in my assessment of him.

  “I came to apologize, actually.” He shrugged sheepishly.

  She jerked her head up, surprised. “What do you have to apologize for?”

  “For keeping you in the dark.” He sighed, and adjusted his gaze from the floor to the ceiling, as though he were searching for the words. “I knew you didn’t know who I was, and that wasn’t fair to you. I just wanted to see—well, I just wanted to be me, the real me, not just a Lazam.”

  His eyes finally met hers, pleading for understanding. “I don’t get that opportunity very often. I promise, I was going to tell you last night. I just couldn’t find the right moment, and then you figured it out before I could explain, and...” He reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. “I feel terrible for lying to you. I’m so sorry.”

  Ugh—why does he have to be so infuriatingly good? She shook her head, blinking back the annoying tears that threatened to spill over. “I’m the one who needs to apologize. I made some really wrong assumptions about your character, and now I see that you weren’t wasting your time and talents at the shelter. You were doing—are doing—really important work there.”

  Ryan sighed. “I’m doing exactly the same thing, though. It’s not noble work just because my parents have a lot of money. I’m the same person, with the same interests and skills.”

  “I know. That’s why I feel like such a crappy person. I shouldn’t have questioned your ambitions and goals.” Bethany sank down onto one of the benches. “I should have just appreciated what you were already doing. I don’t blame you if you never want to speak to me again.”

  He groaned in frustration and sat down beside her. “No, you have it all wrong. I’m glad you pushed me to think about what I want to do with my life. I thought it was enough to help out at the shelter, but now I realize I can make a difference through my art, too. This mural has brought so much energy and a sense of community history to the train station, and it’s incredibly inspiring. I’ve honestly never felt more fulfilled.”

  “So you don’t hate me?” Her voice came out small and quavering as she looked up at him shyly to gauge his reaction.

  He threw his head back and laughed. “Quite the opposite. I—” He shook his head, meeting her gaze with glowing eyes. “I’m thankful for you.”

  The intensity of his expression combined with the touch of his hands on hers sent a flood of warmth through Bethany’s body. One part humility, one part attraction.

  “I’m thankful to you, too,” she said earnestly. “I’ve learned a lot from this.”

  “Like how to score free yacht rides?” He grinned at her, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

  “More like not making snap judgments about people before I get to know them.”

  He shook his head, and her heart sank. Maybe he couldn’t forgive her, after all, even if he was kind enough to say that he’d grown from the experience.

  “I’m really sorry,” she blurted out, pulled her hands away from his. “For how this all worked out. I wish we could have a do-over, but I guess life doesn’t work that way.”

  He stood up suddenly and tugged her to her feet, his face serious and thoughtful. “Why not?”

  “Why not what?”

  “Why can’t we have a do-over?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “You mean another date?”

  “Another everything. Another first meeting where I don’t lie to you—”

  “You didn’t,” she interrupted.

  At her objection, a smile spread across his face. “I did, though. I let you believe I was a guest at the shelter, and I shouldn’t have done that. If I had another chance, I’d do it differently.”

  She chuckled ruefully. “Me too. I definitely wouldn’t make such harsh judgments.”

  “About me?”

  She nodded. “About you, and about everyone staying at the shelter. I was an idiot.”

  “I
think our wrongs have canceled each other out, then. We can start over. Hi, I’m Ryan Lazam.” He stuck out his hand. Suppressing a smile, she shook it.

  “Hi. Bethany Bradstreet. I make soup.”

  “That’s very interesting! I volunteer at a soup kitchen—perhaps you’d like to join me there on Saturday night?”

  “Hm, let me consult my calendar.” She tilted her head to the side, pretending to think about it for a moment. “It looks like I’m free.”

  “It’s a date, then.”

  “A date?” She grinned at him. “Like a date-date?”

  “Does this answer your question?” He took her face in his hands and planted the most slow, delicious kiss on her lips. Bethany felt her knees wobble a little, and she grabbed his arm to steady herself. He pulled away and as he did, it felt like he took a little piece of her heart with him. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

  “A date-date, then,” she said a little breathlessly, wonder in her voice.

  Phew...yes. Whoa. Two amazing guys, two second dates. This is getting out of hand.

  “Ryan!” A voice came from the other side of the crowd. “Come here, I want you to meet someone!”

  Ryan grimaced apologetically. “That’s my dad. I’d better go shake hands with whoever he’s got on the hook. I think this is the first time he’s ever been proud to introduce me as his son.”

  “Go, go!” Bethany waved him toward his parents. As she watched him go, feeling a little bit like she was dreaming, someone slung an arm around her shoulders. Kimmy. She relaxed immediately when she saw the expression on Kimmy’s face. She looked as dazed as Bethany felt. “Hey! Congrats on your big win!”

  “I know. I can hardly believe it. How did I manage to win a competition I didn’t even enter?”

  “I’ll tell you how. You kicked some butt, and everyone knows you’ve been singlehandedly running Café Sabine for years now. This was the most deserved win in the history of wins.”

  “Aw.” Kimmy ducked her head at the praise, but then raised it again, her eyes dancing. “That’s totally, absolutely, 100 percent true.”