Heaven saw the smile. “OK, buddy. If it’s not a hitch in the elevator, and it’s not the patent-stealing corporate meanies, who is it?”
Murray held up both hands. “Oh, I don’t have this thing solved, not by a long shot. After the lab, I went to call on the Riley County coroner. He doesn’t have all the tests back, of course. Said he had to send things up here to Kansas City to the regional lab. He could tell me about all the broken bones, that the general had been in good health before his death, that he didn’t have a brain tumor or an enlarged heart. But there was one thing very off, and the coroner was very troubled by it.”
Heaven came around the table with a menacing look in her eye. The cleaver was still in her hand. “Will you please spit it out. I’m running out of time and patience. By the way, I found out today those are two things you need to be a bread baker.”
“Give up on the bread, Heaven, if time and patience are requirements,” Murray said with a grin. He realized he better spill the beans. “Okay, okay. The general was tripping on acid.”
Silence for a good five seconds. “LSD? That acid?” Heaven couldn’t believe it but it certainly explained the flying thing. “How can he, the doc, be so sure?”
“One thing led to another, he said. Understand he didn’t open up his heart to me. I told him I’d been sent to do a profile on the general and his work and now I had ended up with a mystery. I asked him what he knew and he told me on the condition I wouldn’t print the LSD news until he had all the test results in. He said lysergic acid diethylamide was the last thing he had expected to find and he wanted to be sure, get a second opinion. I agreed to not spill the beans until he had corroboration.”
Heaven hugged Murray around the neck with the cleaver still in her hand. “This is big, Murray. You have really brought us some big news. Now why was the general tripping? Do you think he was a human guinea pig, doing those experiments like Timothy Leary used to do?”
Murray unwound Heaven from him and slipped the knife out of her hand. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her but she did tend to gesture wildly when she got excited. And she was definitely excited. “Maybe, babe. But you remember—thank God it never happened to me—but remember that people used to dose other people with LSD, people who didn’t know they’d been dosed. Maybe the ol’ general was slipped the stuff. We don’t know how he got it, just that he got it.” Murray couldn’t help grinning that grin again. “But, I will say this, I almost grabbed that coroner and danced around the room with him, I was so excited. I know this is at least part of the reason the general thought he could walk on air.”
“That explains the look on his face that I couldn’t explain. He wasn’t scared a bit. He really thought he could walk on air.” Heaven looked at her watch and then the rest of the kitchen staff. They had fallen strangely silent for so early in the shift. They usually didn’t shut up until they felt the strain of being slammed, which usually occurred about eight in the evening. Then she realized the conversation between her and Murray was juicy enough to shut up this gabby crew. “It may not be the answer to everything, like how could anyone but the general time his dose so he would be out of his mind at just the right time, when he was fifty-feet high on the silo. And that seems to eliminate our chief suspect, Walter Jinks.”
Murray looked puzzled. “From what you’ve said about Walter, he was around for the LSD days. Why would this eliminate him?”
“I know, Murray, anything is possible, BUT … Walter and the general didn’t have their falling out until minutes before the accident. The LSD had to have been in his system for a couple of hours, if my memory serves me right. Murray, did the coroner say anything about necrosis?”
Murray was heading for the door to the dining room. He stopped and turned back toward Heaven, wagging his finger at her. “What made you ask that? You knew, you little devil!”
“I only knew that I saw the tip of the victim’s tongue and it was black. I didn’t know it was necrosis, or what it was. I just got a little research material today. Of course, if I’d known you were going off to investigate I might have mentioned it, you little devil yourself. Come on, what did the doc say about necrosis?”
“Well, he didn’t tell me about the tongue, thank you very much. He just said there was some dead tissue, necrosis, on the extremities. Were the general’s fingers black too?”
“I didn’t look at his fingers, Murray. I didn’t even want to see his tongue, for God’s sake, it just happened. Do you think the two things have anything to do with each other?”
Murray shrugged. “The LSD and the black extremities, you mean? Don’t know, babe. This’ll send us back to the library, that’s for sure. But right now, we’ve got people to feed, money to make. I thought you were going to some wing-ding with the bread gang tonight.”
“I’m going, I’m going, but not for an hour or so. Tonight is the usual barbecue extravaganza that every visiting chef wants when they’re in Kansas City. The whole world has heard about Kansas City barbecue. They’re tasting at four restaurants and I’m catching up with them at the third. I asked Pauline to call me when they were headed to R.G.’s.”
“R.G.’s is your favorite. I love his beans. Take care and call me later so I can tell you what a great job everyone did,” Murray said as he left the kitchen.
It was almost two hours later when Pauline called, sounding like she had already downed a few beers along with the brisket and ribs. They were on their way to R.G.’s and was Heaven still going to meet them? Yes, Heaven said. She would check the front and be right along. She gave her final instructions to the kitchen staff and hit the doors to the dining room.
Bobby Short was singing Cole Porter on the sound system, the guests and staff seemed to be strangely in sync with one another, the bar was filling up with the second seating. It was just after eight, early enough that Heaven could see three turns of the tables tonight for the dining room, if the late reservations were good. She ambled over to the front desk, which wasn’t a desk at all, but the end of the bar closest to the door. It was here that Murray presided, reservation book and menus ready.
“Tonight looks promising, Murray. Everything okay? What’s the last turn like?”
Murray studied the reservation book with one eye and the room with the other eye. Even though Murray wasn’t a true restaurant professional, the fact that he could judge the dining room so well was what made him great at his job. It was a gift that no amount of training could teach. How does a person know when the couple in the corner needs their check, when the birthday party in the center of the room needs their birthday cake brought out at just the right time? How does someone sense when the couple at the bar is getting tired of waiting for a table and needs a free drink to stay put? Murray had the gift. Heaven was afraid that soon Murray would be too busy with his writing to work at the cafe, but until then, she rested easier when Murray was at the door.
“We have eighty reservations after nine. That’s almost a full turn so the joint’s jumping tonight. We may be able to pay for those new microphones Chris and Joe want.”
Just then Chris Snyder ran up to Heaven. “I know you’re trying to leave but please come over to that deuce. They had their first date here last year, and he just gave her an engagement ring, tonight, at that table. They seem to think you’re responsible.”
Heaven groaned. “And they’ll think that when its time for the divorce and property division, too. I hate it when we bring couples together. It’s so dangerous. But we need to treat them with something. Have they had champagne?”
“Two bottles of Veuve Clicquot,” Chris said.
“Well, they don’t need any more booze then. How about a dessert pu-pu platter? I’ll tell the kitchen to fix up an assortment.”
“That sounds good because they’re almost done with their entrees. But I really need you to go by the table,” Chris said firmly. He knew his tip would increase if he could get Heaven to bless the new couple.
Bless them she did, and then even reme
mbered to order their free desserts on the way out the back door.
Heaven walked toward her van in the darkness, her head full of thoughts, everything from the sanctity of marriage to LSD to sourdough chefs and the sourdough bakers as well. All of a sudden, a loud noise on the other side of her van made her jump. A huge possum trundled in front of the garbage dumpster, hissing in her direction. It had evidently knocked over a stack of plastic pails. She clapped her hands and shouted. “You pea brained sloth. Get away. You scared me half to death.”
As Heaven got in her van, more sounds erupted from the dark side of her van, this time they were the distinct sounds of a person running away. She didn’t see anyone, just heard the steps.
“Oh, my God. What’s going on…” She knew she should go back in and have someone check out the area behind the dumpster, but lots of people went up and down the alley and Heaven’s van had been broken into only once. She didn’t want the delay that would definitely occur if she went back in the restaurant and said someone had been out behind the van in the alley. She started the motor instead. She had backed up and pulled out of the alley on to 39th Street before she sensed something was different in her van. For one thing, the seat had been moved. She could barely reach the brake pedal. As she pulled over to the side of the street and adjusted her seat, she realized that someone had been in her car. Not only had her seat been moved but the plastic dairy case that rested between the two front seats was clear in the back of the vehicle.
That dairy case, a crate that was used to deliver gallons of milk or quarts of cream to a restaurant or grocery store, was usually full of mail that Heaven picked up at her post office box, magazines, letters from wineries, an occasional cookbook. Heaven tried to remember sending someone with longer legs from the restaurant on an errand in the van, but she knew good and well she hadn’t done that. She turned the ignition off and turned to peer into the back of the van. Somehow she knew the dairy case would have something in it or on it that hadn’t been there a few hours before when Heaven had last driven the van.
Sure enough, there was a longish plastic container sitting on top of the crate. Heaven snagged the dairy case with one foot and pulled it toward her.
“Well, I guess we know what the phantom in the alley was doing,” Heaven muttered to herself.
What if it was a bomb, or one of those spring devices that sent acid spraying on your face? She knew she should go back in the restaurant with the container, or at least that she shouldn’t open it sitting alone in the dark in her car. She knew all that but opened it anyway. Inside was a loaf of BIG BREAD. It had been ripped open down the top with a serrated bread knife, which had been left sticking out of the bread, jagged pieces of plastic wrapping caught on the blade. The BIG BREAD logo and the polka dots that bordered the package were pulled apart violently. There was a blotch of red on the bread that looked like blood. It gave Heaven a chill but she didn’t for a minute think it was blood. She had seen this food-as-blood trick before. Carefully she dabbed the red stuff on her little finger and carefully licked it off. It was raspberry preserves. Heaven stared at this bizarre centerpiece for a moment before seeing a piece of paper stuck on the knife deep in the gummy heart of the loaf of bread. She started to pull out the knife, and even as she did it she heard her friend, Detective Bonnie Weber, screaming “fingerprints, you idiot,” in her mind. Heaven pulled the edge of her jacket sleeve down on her palm and grabbed the knife with the protected hand, laying it carefully on the floor.
This time, curiosity won out over good police procedure and Heaven snatched the scrap of paper free. It had two words written in pencil in boxy letters, STOP THEM. Heaven assumed the them was BIG BREAD, the makers of the bread the note had been stuck to. But maybe it had a broader application, to the ARTOS group, who after all, also made bread. Maybe the culprit couldn’t stand the idea of spending five bucks for a loaf of bread he was just going to push a knife in, so he got a cheap loaf for the prank.
Whichever group the warning was for, why was it left in Heaven’s van?
Scones
2 cups flour
3 T. sugar
1 T. baking powder
½ tsp. kosher salt
8 T. cold butter
3 eggs
3 T. heavy cream
Zest of 1 orange
¾ cup currants
Mix all the dry ingredients. Blend in cold butter in tablespoon size pats until the mixture is pea-sized crumbs. Mix and stir together eggs and cream and zest. Add wet ingredients to dry until the dough comes together. Add the currants. The dough will be wet. Knead lightly on a floured surface. Roll out to 1-inch thick. Cut dough with round pastry cutter or into triangles. Freeze cut dough for 15 minutes or overnight. Brush the tops with a beaten egg to which a tablespoon of cream has been added. Bake at 350 degrees, 15–25 minutes, until golden brown.
Nine
At R.G.’s, aromatic meat smells and smoky air hung heavy in the room, mixing with rhythm and blues from the jukebox. Tonight the room was raucous and crowded, packed as it was with bread bakers and the usual locals. Although R.G.’s wasn’t known nationally like Arthur Bryant’s and Gate’s and KC Masterpiece, it was one of those hidden gems that locals like to keep to themselves. When the host committee for the ARTOS conference started planning this night of barbecue, Heaven had been tempted to keep quiet about R.G.’s. But this conference wasn’t a bunch of doctors or funeral directors. These were food professionals. They needed to taste the best, and in Heaven’s opinion that was R.G.’s.
Heaven was glad to get to a room full of people after the creepy discovery in her car. As the warmth and the music and the laughter washed over her, she suddenly realized that one of these ARTOS folks could be responsible for her little surprise. But which of these out-of-town bakers could have slipped away to wander around town, find her restaurant, identify her car and leave the bread, then slip back to join the group? Either they all did it as a group project, bus driver please wait a minute, or someone closer to home was responsible, someone who already knew where Cafe Heaven was.
“Heaven, over here!” It was Pauline, with the ever-present Dieter at her side. Heaven gave out a few hugs as she made her way to the table. She plopped down and went right to work on temporarily getting rid of Dieter.
“Oh, boy, am I glad to be here. How were the other two places? Wait, before we do another thing, Dieter, my darling, would you get me something to drink? I don’t like beer so I guess orange or strawberry soda is the next best thing in a barbecue joint,” Heaven batted her eyes a couple of times just to make sure Dieter understood she expected him to play the gentleman.
“Nonsense, you will drink beer, not some sweet soda pop,” Dieter said with a huff. “They have many choices. I’ll get you something European.” With that, the handsome baker headed toward the bar.
“If R.G.’s has European beer I’ll eat my hat,” Heaven cracked. “So, Pauline, what’s going on with you and your sidekick Tonto?”
Pauline pulled on the bangs of her dark Dutch-boy cut hair and grinned. “First of all, I’ll have you know that R.G.’s has Heineken. And the situation with Dieter is very strange. Not that I mind being accompanied around by a handsome and famous German baker. I’ve met everyone who is anyone, and they’re nice to me because Dieter likes me. I even got a job offer from Amy, you know, Amy’s Bread in New York.”
“Where is she? I’ll tear her hair out for messin’ with my Pauline,” Heaven said. “Unless you have been harboring a secret desire to move to New York?”
Pauline shook her head. “No, but it made me feel good to be asked. But here’s the weird thing about Dieter. Even though he hangs with me all the time he hasn’t really flirted or come on to me at all.”
“Well, there’s always the possibility he’s happily married,” Heaven said without much enthusiasm.
“Oh, come on boss, he’s halfway around the world. Most happily married guys think there’s a three-mile limit on their marriage license. Do you think he’s
gay?”
Heaven eyed the back of Dieter’s head at the bar. “Maybe he needs to stay close to you for some other reason, like that he’s a spy, and he’s using you as a decoy.”
Pauline eyed her boss suspiciously. “Are you OK?”
“I know, I know, its my overactive imagination again. Why do I always have to look for some ulterior motives? He could be all of the above, a married gay man who’s a spy, but he still chose the best woman to hang with at this conference.” Heaven gave Pauline a big hug. She didn’t want Dieter’s not hitting on her to make Pauline feel less than desirable. Heaven knew from experience that if there’s a way a man’s problem can be your fault, most women will find the way. She also needed to warn Pauline.
“Honey, I’m going to talk fast before Dieter gets back. Someone put a loaf of BIG BREAD in my car with a knife stuck in it and a note with a warning on it. I want you to be very cautious of everyone. Did Dieter or anyone else show up late for the first barbecue stop? Did anyone ask you where the cafe was? I know we’re having a party there on Sunday, so I guess that question could be normal curiosity, but…”
Pauline, if she hadn’t exactly sobered up, was listening intently to Heaven. “We did have a conversation with that BIG BREAD guy, Dieter and I and a couple of other people,” she said. “At Gate’s. Dieter was asking Patrick Sullivan all about Cafe Heaven, and he said nice things. I think they talked about where it was located but I don’t remember anyone disappearing. Heaven, gosh, now that I think of it I don’t remember seeing either of them at the first stop, at Bryant’s. I wondered where Dieter was. I didn’t really miss Patrick, but I don’t remember seeing him.”
Heaven looked around the room. She spotted Patrick Sullivan at a nearby table and got up. “I’ll be back,” she mumbled to Pauline.
Heaven put on her best smile as she sat down beside Patrick. “Well, Mr. Sullivan, how are you weathering this particular storm?”
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