Mystery: The Cook's Comeuppance: A Duncan Dewar Mystery of Murder and Romantic Suspense (Duncan Dewar Mysteries Book 3)

by Victoria Benchley

  At lunch, he added his mum to the list of those he worried over. He observed Mondo fawning over Margaret and taking her from table to table again in the hall. People were still praising yesterday's meatloaf. He now understood why Armondo was so hard on his sous chefs. His experiences with Ella made him dislike and mistrust them. It must have been a terrible blow to his ego when she was offered this post instead of him. Duncan imagined he later consented to take the position because of the opportunities it might provide. Cooking for movers and shakers of the art community was nothing to sneeze at. What puzzled Duncan was how his mum had overcome the chef's dislike of assistants. Now, he had to watch Mondo flirt with her each day. It was unbearable.

  He continued researching Sunny's husbands. He started with Alfonso Esperanza, since he shared a surname with someone up on a branch of Frogo's family tree. This appeared to be a happy match. Alfonso ended the marriage in 1987 by dying of a heart attack. He was another wealthy man, the mate of choice for Sunny, with the exception of Nigel, of course. Alfonso had family money and no heirs, another jackpot for the Vizcondesa. This led Duncan to Sunny's original spouse, the Vizconde Eugenio Felipe Tormes. Sunny married her first husband in 1969. He was quite a bit older than she and had not been previously hitched. He died in 1977 of natural causes.

  Everything came full circle in Duncan's mind. A young, attractive Sunny marries a title, the Vizconde Tormes. Tormes was an important name in Spain. There was even a river here named Tormes. When he passed away, she was drawn to a dashing British race car driver more her own age, Nigel. For some reason that marriage failed, and she revisited her old ways, marrying another aged man, Alfonso Esperanza. Back to the Spaniards. She outlived him and opted for another Englishman, George Bentwell. They divorced in 1993. She was single for several years before settling on still another Spaniard, her current husband, Roberto Castillo. Duncan had his timeline. But what of Sunny prior to the Vizconde? He didn't even know her maiden name or where she came from.

  Duncan was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the footsteps on the tile floor approaching his office. He jumped when Angela burst into the room.

  "I've just had the most brilliant day with Sunny! She's wonderful, Duncan. You wouldn't believe how much we have in common," she enthused.

  Duncan looked at his former assistant. He hadn't seen her this excited since she took up forensics with Herbert Smith at Lawful and General. Even then, she was not this animated. He chose his words with care.

  "How's that?" he asked, in a forced pleasant tone.

  Angela took no notice.

  "First off, she lost her mum as an early teen, just like I did. She lost her father in early adulthood, like myself. And, we both adore Chanel!" she said and her voice crescendoed at the mention of the design house. She continued, "You would not believe how generous she is. Sunny is involved in numerous causes. But she's not just openhanded with charities. She gave me three outfits she's never even worn, and she's having her tailor alter them for me. Oh, we had a wonderful lunch, too. She gave me a tour of her home. It's sounds daft, but we have a deep connection. She told me if she'd ever had a child, she'd want a daughter just like me. Can you believe that?"

  No, I can't. For the first time, Duncan witnessed how she craved a mother figure. Unfortunately, she'd found one in Sunny Bentwell. Angela beamed and kept talking.

  "I don't know why you don't like her. I think she's magnificent. She offered to take me with her to next year's spring shows. And, she's flying us all down to Costa del Sol this weekend!"

  Huh?

  "Uh, what was that about flying somewhere?" Duncan asked, stunned.

  "Sunny is taking us all to Costa del Sol on her private plane. It's Spain's playground for the jet set. She's going to introduce us to people, show us around, just have a good time. You and Angus are both invited and I think Nigel will be there," Angela replied.

  Duncan thought about his last flight on Sunny's jet. He did not want a repeat. What about his mum? He couldn’t leave her for a weekend in Mondo's clutches. He sensed that if he squashed Angela's enthusiasm at this moment it could damage their relationship forever. It might be good to question Nigel. Duncan ran his fingers through his hair and weighed all these issues before responding. He decided to stall.

  "Let's see what Angus thinks of it, shall we?" was the best he could come up with.

  Angela was in a talkative mood and Duncan encouraged her to speak. Seeing her lap up the attentions bestowed by Sunny made him realize several things about her. First, she had a strong character to survive and prosper as she had without parents. He couldn't imagine a world without his mum and dad. Also, he saw how vulnerable she could be. He felt a strong instinct to protect the girl from future pain and disappointment. His feelings for her were growing.

  So, he was indulgent when she asked about Caroline Menzies. He had not allowed anyone to broach that subject in the last six months. It was too painful.

  "I haven't heard anything from or about her. I haven't dated anyone else either," he volunteered. Changing the subject, he asked, "Would you like to go downstairs and have tea?"

  Once in the dining hall, they helped themselves to a tray of marzipan pastries left out by Mondo or his mum. He wasn't sure exactly what her duties were anymore. A waiter brought them each a small pot of hot water with a box of numerous teas to choose from. Duncan chose the Earl Grey while Angela selected an orange pekoe blend. As the teas steeped, he directed Angela's gaze to various points of interest outside of the large, east facing windows.

  "Hola, Duncan," a voice spoke from behind his chair.

  He turned to see Juliette Alonza, the sculptress, standing close. She wore her standard cutoffs and tank top.

  "Hallo, Juliette. This is my friend, Angela," Duncan said, rising. "Angela, this is Juliette Alonza, one of the artists in residence at the academy."

  "Pleased to meet you," Angela said as Juliette pulled up a chair.

  A twinge of something uncomfortable hit Duncan in the pit of his stomach, but he brushed it off.

  "How was the pour?" he asked, and then turning to Angela he added, "Juliette had a bronze sculpture poured in Madrid earlier in the week."

  "Perfecto," Juliette declared, flipping a long strand of black hair from her shoulder to her back. "Tell me Duncan, when are we going out again? We had such a good time, no? Arianna likes your brother and you promised we'd do it again, soon," Juliette said, puckering her lips into a pout. "What about this weekend?" she added.

  "We're busy this weekend, but we'll have to plan a get-together soon," he replied without thinking.

  Juliette looked hard at Angela.

  "Hmph," she said, pushing her chair from the table. Juliette rose, smiled at Duncan, and sashayed from the dining hall.

  Angela watched the Argentinian beauty go. Then she gave Duncan a severe stare.

  "Didn't you just tell me you hadn't dated anyone since Caroline?"

  * * * * * *

  Duncan sank his fingers into the plush, cream leather as the jet lifted its nose and left terra firma. He had to admit, take-off went much smoother than his landing a few weeks before. The limousine had picked them all up from the casa this morning and within minutes they joined Sunny on her private jet. Angus had been all in when Angela asked him about this trip. Neither Duncan nor Angela told him about the debacle in the dining hall with Juliette. It made Angus look bad too, declaring himself to Angela right after dating Arianna.

  Two days before, after Angela stormed out of the academy, Duncan concentrated on remembering the details of Sunny's private jet. He recalled seeing Legacy 600 near the cabin door and the general shape of the plane. From the internet he determined who manufactured the airplane, how many people it seated, its safety record, price, luggage capacity, range, and cruising speed. Costa del Sol was approximately 650 kilometers from Manchiego. They'd be there in less than an hour. Angus fell asleep almost as soon as he buckled his seatbelt.

  The plane could carry thirteen passengers. Most of the sea
ts, large, plush leather lounge chairs, faced each other. Some had burled maple tables between them. A sofa that could be converted to a bed sat on one side of the plane. The cabin was done up in shades of off-white and cream. His brother slept facing him, oblivious to their climbing altitude. The women sat behind Duncan, facing each other, and chatted away like school girls. He caught snippets of their conversation.

  "Galiano almost persuaded me once, but in the end, I had to remain loyal to Chanel," Sunny confessed.

  They giggled. Angela had already told Duncan that Sunny only wore Chanel.

  "What about your jewelry, accessories? Are they all Chanel?"

  "I bend the rules a little there. One will stagnate if totally inflexible, Angela."

  Duncan glanced out the window at the terrain. The jet flew over hills, rivers, and farmland before entering a flat, arid region. Female voices and laughter again drew his attention to the conversation behind.

  "I'm pleased to take you under my wing, Angela."

  Duncan moved his head enough to glimpse Sunny's face. She bared her teeth like a tigress at his former assistant.

  "As I said before, it will do you good to get away from all that testosterone. Do you know, sometimes I just crave the companionship of a woman? I'm always saddled with some male escort at the Paris shows. It will be so nice to have you by my side next year," Sunny whispered. "You know, the one time I went to Scotland, I dated a Highland Games champion?"

  "Did you?" Angela asked.

  "Yes, his prowess was undeniable, but I soon grew bored with him," Sunny confessed.

  They both cackled.

  Sunny added, "Do you think the big one throws the caber?" as the snickering continued.

  "No, I don’t toss the caber," Angus sniped, without opening his eyes.

  So, his brother wasn't asleep after all. There was silence from behind Duncan, followed by muffled giggles. A caber was the heavy, long pole tossed during the Highland Games.

  Duncan guessed all this joviality was a good way for Angela to let off steam. By the direction their conversation took, he imagined Angela confided her experience at tea the other day to Sunny. The older woman seemed to be jabbing small insults at Duncan and his brother. Angela sure enjoyed Sunny's company. He was relieved he didn't have to look at the Vizcondesa during the plane ride. She made his skin crawl.

  "Now about the cocktail party, Dear, I'm going to introduce you to several eligible young men… " Sunny's voice faded to a whisper. Then next thing Duncan heard the Vizcondesa say was, "The children of all this new money don't know how to behave. Being raised with billions is not what it's cracked up to be, Angela. Steer clear of those types… " her voice faded again.

  By the time the jet descended outside of Costa del Sol, Duncan was so angry he did not even notice the landing. This trip was a bad idea. Angus continued to feign sleep until the steward came by offering assistance off the plane. As they stepped onto the tarmac, a sea breeze hit their faces, alleviating the scorching heat of the midday sun. A limousine whisked the small group off to one of Sunny's villas as she explained some of the local history.

  "The entire coastline here is referred to as Costa del Sol. When I first began coming here with Filipe, the area had only sleepy fishing villages. Now, everyone comes for the beautiful beaches and weather," she claimed.

  By everyone Duncan assumed she meant everyone from her social set.

  She continued, "High speed trains deliver tourists on the hour. You'd never guess that villagers used to hang from the cliffs above the Mediterranean to fish. We'll be staying in Marbella."

  As their vehicle snaked its way down the curvy roadway towards the sea, the view transfixed Duncan. He saw homogenous villages consisting of whitewashed buildings, tucked into hillsides or sprawled atop high promontories. While the structures might vary in size, they were all bright white stucco, topped by red Spanish tile. The small towns, contrasting against bright green hillsides with the turquoise ocean beyond, created a stunning sight.

  The coastline included high white cliffs that plunged into the sea. Majestic, some appeared well over a hundred meters tall. In other places, gradual green slopes ended in white sand beaches that kissed the Mediterranean. He had never seen such unique topography crowded into one spot before. Sunny named some of the distant villages, but Duncan was too mesmerized by the scenery to listen. He caught glimpses of the remaining wildflowers which added bright colors to the otherwise green hillsides. The onset of summer had not yet withered all blooms. Everywhere he looked, nature's beauty abounded.

  Feeling some motion sickness by the time they reached the coast, Duncan stared at a spot on the horizon. The limousine sped along a straight highway now, parallel to the Mediterranean. In a few minutes, the driver slowed and turned the car towards the sea, into a narrow lane. They arrived at an ornate wrought iron gate which swung open to accommodate their entry. The vehicle stopped in front of a larger version of the homes he'd seen in the hillside towns, and the driver jumped out and opened their doors.

  Exiting the limo, Duncan saw a line of three staff members waiting at the villa's front door, all smiles. Sunny greeted each servant and shook their hands, introducing each of her guests by name. He peeked through the tall, two story glass doors, covered with swirling patterns of iron. He could see the Mediterranean beyond the villa. They were right on the water's edge, but above the sea, on a low cliff. Their hostess beckoned them to enter the foyer.

  After peering at the ocean, the first thing he noticed was the floor. Beneath his shoes was a large round mosaic, consisting of matte and iridescent tiles. Thousands of tiny ceramic pieces in various shades of peach, light blue, and cream formed a picture of a ferocious Neptune. A border of pale seashells surrounded the portrait, giving Duncan the impression he was standing on a carpet.

  He saw Angela staring at the ceiling and he too glanced up. The circular foyer held a large chandelier made of real sea shells of all shapes and sizes. Sconces on the concave walls had also been assembled of shells, as had a large rococo mirror frame above the fireplace in the next room.

  As they stepped down into what might be called the parlor, one of the servants handed out warm washcloths in the shape of jelly rolls from a silver tray. The man used tongs to deliver the towels to each guest. Another staff member stood at the ready near the door to the terrace with a tray of champagne flutes filled with a peach colored elixir.

  They were being herded outside, where the home's main attraction was its view. There, the sea took center stage with a vanishing pool in the foreground. The terrace stretched in both directions, parallel to the ocean. It was large enough to accommodate a small hotel.

  "Please, make yourselves at home, freshen up, have a drink and tapas. Then, change into your swimsuits. The staff will show you to your rooms when you're ready. In about an hour, I'll have a surprise for you all," Sunny proclaimed and left the terrace, chatting with one of her servants.

  Her three guests looked at each other and after a moment, began to giggle. None of them had experienced accommodations like this before. A towering artistic arrangement of fruit, cheeses, and breads awaited them on a nearby table. Angus took a deep breath of salty ocean air and exhaled, releasing the tension from the trip. Duncan stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck, then marveled at the beautiful view before him. Numerous succulents, some blooming bright flowers, created a border around much of the stone terrace, and several palm trees towered near the pool. Below, small motorboats zipped back and forth while larger yachts moored beyond. If not for Sunny Bentwell, this might be a dream.

  Duncan said to Angus in a low tone, "I hate the thought of Mum, alone, back in Manchiego with Mondo all weekend."

  Angus moved his head so he could look Duncan square in the eye.

  "Ye could always send for Harold. If Mum introduced him as her son, I guarantee Mondo would run in the opposite direction."

  Harold, their younger brother who helped run Angus's garages, was a little different.

/>   "Pshaw! I'm serious, Angus."

  "So am I. If worst comes to worst, I'll summon him," Angus said, strolling away towards Angela.

  He was tired of his older brother's worries, tired of talk of the case, and tired of Angela ignoring him. He wanted to enjoy the moment and have some fun. In one quick move, he scooped up Angela and carried her to the pool, acting as though he would throw her in.

  "Stop, put me down, Angus," Angela said between giggles. "I mean it!" she screamed, laughing.

  Angus swung her over the edge of the pool, counting, "One, two… "

  She threw her arms about his neck and clung on tight.

  "If I go in, I'll take you with me," she threatened.

  This flirting was more than Duncan could take. He covered the few meters between himself and his brother in two quick steps and using all his might shoved Angus from behind, pushing them both into the pool. The couple came up sputtering, red faced, and angry.

  "What did ye do that fir?" Angus demanded, shaking the water from his hair and then vibrating an index finger in his ear.

  Duncan ignored his brother and sauntered towards the house, telling the servant posted at the door, "I'm ready to see my room."

  Angus twisted his torso to get a look at his love interest.

  "Oh! Now, I'll need to take my contacts out," she complained with disgust.

  * * * * * *

  An hour later, Duncan emerged from his room, intending to join the others on the terrace. Sunny waited for him on the upstairs landing. She wore a long navy caftan, v-neckline, cuffs and hem trimmed with white bands, and held an exceptionally wide brimmed straw hat in one hand. Her clothes gave off a subtle nautical air. Sunny grinned her cat-like smile as he approached. Her expression made him uneasy and he ran his hand through his thick hair without thinking.