Puzzling Ink

by Becky Clark

  If the manager talked with her, then Quinn knew she might get some good information on both Emmett and Loma.

  Finally, a pudgy man in a cheap suit stepped up to Quinn’s table. “I’m the manager. Vince Koneckny. I understand you wanted to talk to me. Is something wrong?” His voice had a tinge of world-weary resignation, with a soupçon of trepidation. Like Quinn was just one more ingredient in the dreadful stew of his life.

  “No, not at all.” She spoke a bit too cheerfully, as if to make up for his gloominess. “Emmett Dubois said the Crazy Mule was being renovated?”

  “Emmett’s dead. If he owes you money—”

  “No, nothing like that. And I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Did you know him?”

  “No. I wanted to talk to you about Loma Szabo’s interior design company. Emmett wrote a reference for it and I was hoping you were part of the team that worked with her.”

  “Ah, Loma.” He immediately brightened. “I’d recommend her in a heartbeat. I love that woman.” He slid into the seat next to Quinn. “What do you want to know?”

  Quinn was caught off guard at his helpfulness. If someone had come to chat with her at the diner, she would not have been so helpful. Of course, she also didn’t have employees like he did to handle things. She took a sip of coffee to buy some time to think. She put the mug down and looked at him. “What kind of work did Loma do for you?”

  “She designed the interiors of some restaurants Emmett used to own.” He glanced around the Crazy Mule. “Not this one. This here’s a chain. Can’t make any upgrades without an act of Congress.”

  “I’d love to see the other restaurants.”

  “Sadly, they’re all out of business now. Emmett and I both ended up here.” He waved the waitress over for more coffee. She topped off Quinn’s and set down a mug in front of Vince and filled it. “Thanks, Kelli.” He took a sip and made a face. “Loma was great to work with. The project took quite a long time, but she held our hands through the entire process. I was point man on several things. I got to know her pretty well. Kinda felt bad for her, though. She put everything on hold—her own career, having kids—because her ex-husband promised as soon as he was settled in his restaurant career, he’d support her in her interior design business.”

  Quinn was confused, but pretty sure he was talking about Jake. “But it sounds like she was doing interior design. And had her own business.”

  “Yes, but we were her only client. I’m sure her ex thought he was being magnanimous by letting her do it.”

  “You’re definitely not her only client now. Her website has tons of pictures of work she’s done.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it. I always thought she had a good eye for that kind of thing. In fact, one time—”

  “Excuse me, Vince,” Kelli said. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s another grease fire.”

  “Oh no!” Quinn started to get up, but he waved her back down.

  “Don’t worry. Happens all the time.” He stood. “Thanks, Kelli.” He turned toward Quinn. “I hope you hire Loma. If you need anything else, give me a call. And tell her hi from me when you see her.” He walked through the restaurant without picking up his pace in the slightest.

  Kelli poured more coffee. She wasn’t exactly fat, but neither was she thin. Instead, she was that pleasing plumpness that middle-aged women grew into. Everything was now directed forward, confident and solid, outward evidence of years of being in charge—almost always behind the scenes. If she stood in the rain, the drops would politely withdraw, content to dampen a less capable person.

  “Does that happen often?” Quinn asked her.

  “Kitchen fires? Yeah.”

  “That must make it interesting.”

  Kelli snorted. “I suppose. But it never happened at Emmett’s other restaurants.” She cut her eyes in the direction her manager had gone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But I heard Emmett’s name and couldn’t help myself.” She held out her hand. “Kelli Mahan.”

  “No worries. Pleased to meet you. I’m Quinn.” She was thrilled her plan to get intel on Emmett was working out so well. “You were saying?”

  “Just that Emmett ran a tight ship, once upon a time. Kinda lost his will when he came to this corporate catastrophe. All kinds of rumors started flying. People said he bribed a health inspector, hadn’t paid his taxes, had a gambling problem. I never believed any of it, though.”

  “You worked for Emmett too?”

  Kelli nodded. “A long time. Especially long in the food biz. I started out at his restaurant in Manhattan, but then he and this guy, Jake, had a falling-out. We were all screwed when it went out of business, but at least Emmett helped a bunch of us get new jobs. I landed in Denver.” She shrugged. “Emmett was a good guy.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” After a respectful pause: “He got you this job?”

  Kelli swept an arm out to the side, acknowledging the Crazy Mule. “Yep. In all its glory.” She set the coffeepot on the table.

  “What was the falling-out with this Jake guy about?”

  Kelli waved her hand. “Long story.”

  “So he was a jerk?”

  “No, not at all. He was super-sweet, a really good boss.”

  “Jake was your boss?” Quinn made a mental note to add a ten-dollar tip for Kelli for all the information.

  “Not technically. Emmett was the boss, but Jake was…well, he was the guy who could get things done for everybody. Help with health insurance coverage, get us extra vacation days, that sort of thing. Plus, he was a better cook than Emmett, made much more interesting food. Everyone loved him. I feel terrible for him.” She lowered her voice. “I heard he’s been arrested. Terrible. Don’t get me wrong, Emmett was a good guy and definitely didn’t deserve to get murdered, but he had a chip on his shoulder. And all his shenanigans annoyed the investors. I heard a rumor once that the majority shareholder was ready to pull out.”

  “Who was the majority shareholder?”

  “I don’t know. Emmett only referred to him as his silent partner.”

  Partnership Design. Loma’s business. Quinn clarified, “Him? The silent partner was definitely a man?”

  “Hm. Now that you mention it, I’m not sure. I always assumed, but maybe not.”

  “What kind of shenanigans was Emmett involved in?”

  “Emmett always said that Jake ruined his business and that he was a thief.” As Kelli spoke, she glanced around the restaurant. When it was clear nobody needed her, she sat down at Quinn’s table and let out a tired sigh.

  “Jake stole money? Like embezzlement?”

  “No, recipes.”

  Quinn wrinkled her brow. “I thought you said Jake was the better cook. Why would he steal recipes?”

  “He wouldn’t. People say weird stuff. For a long time there was a rumor about Jake’s wife and Emmett, but I never believed it. Until Emmett told me it was true, that is.”

  “An affair?”

  “Not exactly. According to Emmett, one time Loma—that’s Jake’s wife—came to him and said they should have an affair to get back at Jake and Emmett’s wife, Margosha.”

  “Jake and this Margosha were having an affair?” Quinn’s head was spinning. This was the best ten bucks she ever spent.

  “They were sure spending a bunch of time together, if you know what I mean. Margosha was from Bulgaria or someplace. In her fifties, but absolutely gorgeous, with no work done, or so I’ve heard. But anyway, when Loma suggested that she and Emmett have this affair, Emmett said ‘Gross!’ and laughed right in Loma’s face!”

  “Ouch.”

  “Exactly. And he told the story to everyone, over and over again, laughing every single time.”

  Quinn was puzzled, picturing Loma’s perfect skin, long, manicured nails, and wide, ready smile. “Loma is beautiful, no
t gross at all.”

  “Agreed. But Emmett was gay. Emmett and Margosha had a green-card marriage.”

  “Emmett told you all this?” And you’re telling me? Bless your heart!

  “It’s no secret. And it was years ago. She got her green card. They’ve been divorced for a few years now. Had a huge happy-divorce party. Best party I’d ever been to before or since. It was at their premier restaurant in New York.” Kelli got a faraway look in her eyes. “Fell in love with caviar that night.”

  “What happened to the restaurants?” Quinn asked.

  “I don’t really know, but a bunch of people lost a bunch of money. And Emmett ended up here. It’s not much of a job, but if you hang around long enough, they give you a week of paid vacation and a five-hundred K life insurance policy. I’d rather have double the vacay, but the life insurance is cheaper for corporate. And they cancel it as soon as you quit. Literally, it’s the very least they can do.”

  “Are you going to stay, now that Emmett…”

  “I don’t know. I have a couple of side gigs, but you know how it goes. I’ll probably drop dead here.” Kelli blushed at her poor choice of words. She stood and smoothed her uniform. “I should get back to work. Sorry I was such a chatterbox. Normally nobody wants to talk about anything other than the condiments on their burger or the weak coffee.” Kelli picked up the coffeepot and tilted it toward Quinn, who shook her head.

  “The coffee was just fine and I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me, Kelli. But if I drink any more I won’t sleep for a week.”

  “Coffee’s on the house. Thanks for not complaining about it.”

  Quinn changed her mind about the tip, slipping a twenty under her coffee cup for Kelli. As she headed for the exit, Vince Koneckny was walking away from her. Quinn watched as a folded magazine slipped out of his back pocket. He didn’t notice, so Quinn picked it up. She almost followed him to return it to him, but he suddenly found himself being squalled at by some unsatisfied diners. Quinn looked at the magazine and saw it was, instead, a colorful catalog. FUNdamental Restaurant Products, it screamed in large letters, all in different colors. The FUN was in a silly font, all in fire engine red. Below that touted their June knife sale, complete with several exclamation marks and photos of every type of knife a restaurant might use. She placed it on top of a pile of newspapers near the unmanned hostess stand and hoped Vince could get back to it soon.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, Friday, Quinn got up early and talked Donnie into letting her see Jake in the lockup.

  “I have questions about the diner. C’mon…please?”

  After staring at her for an uncomfortably long time, Donnie slowly got to his feet. “What do I care if you talk to him?”

  “Is that rhetorical?”

  “Leave your purse here.” She squinted at him, trying to decide if that was a good idea. His bored stare told her she had no choice. She dug around until she pulled out a pen and a mini–spiral notebook, then dropped her purse on Donnie’s desk. She followed him downstairs, where he left her alone with Jake. She made a mental note to ask Rico if that was protocol, but just as quickly abandoned the idea in case it wasn’t. She might need Donnie to let her talk to Jake again. Almost certainly, in fact.

  Jake’s face lit up and he shot a barrage of questions at Quinn.

  She held up one hand. “Me first.” She turned back the cover on the spiral and clicked her pen. “The credit card machine isn’t working. Who do I call?”

  “There’s a sticker underneath it with the company and the eight-hundred number to call for service.”

  “Same with the cash register? It’s stuck.”

  “No idea. It’s never broken before.”

  Quinn listed all of the kitchen staples she’d run out of and Jake told her how to replenish everything. With a sigh, he even described how to find his secret stash of emergency cash cleverly hidden in the desk in his office under some to-go menus and empty water bottles. Quinn debated whether to tell him it wasn’t so cleverly hidden.

  “Now if only I could find time to go shopping or call those vendors.” She started to close the notebook where she’d jotted down the instructions. “Oh. And the fridge is making a funny noise.”

  “Describe it.”

  Quinn did, a cross between clanking and wheezing that hurt her throat but was a fairly good imitation.

  “Nope, that’s normal. Now if it starts going”—Jake proceeded to trill and whistle—“then call Abe. Other than all that, how’s it going over there?”

  “It’s chaos.” It slipped out before she knew it. She couldn’t take it back, so she went all-in and told Jake everything. “There are too many people to disappoint, too many orders to get wrong, too much toast to burn, too much oatmeal to spill—”

  “That’s what makes it fun! It’s a challenge to juggle all those balls.” He paused when he saw the look of horror on her face.

  “I’m not good at juggling. I need to throw one ball and catch it. Then set it aside and throw another ball and catch it.” It was Jake’s turn to look horrified. “It was easy when I was just waitressing. Bring food there, fill those waters, clear that table. One thing, then another.”

  “It’s exactly the same now. You’re just cooking the food first.”

  “It’s not at all the same. Now, I’m supposed to be chopping onions while I’m cooking fried eggs while I’m trying not to burn the bacon while I actually am burning toast while I’m grating potatoes while I’m cooking scrambled eggs while I’m chopping tomatoes while I’m looking for an omelet pan while I’m—”

  “How else would you do it?” Jake looked bewildered.

  “I want to chop vegetables for Silas’s omelet, then cook the eggs, then fill the omelet, then fry the potatoes, then toast the bread, then bring it to Silas, then do the next order.

  Jake stared at her, trying to process her words. “Are you telling me you take care of one customer completely before you handle another one?”

  “It’s so … chaotic,” she said meekly.

  Jake ran his hand through his already messy hair. “Quinn, you have got to make this work.”

  She didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t possibly keep, so she changed the subject. “Did you know there was an eyewitness who saw you bring a bag of mushrooms into the governor’s mansion?”

  “So Rico said.”

  “How do you explain that?”

  “I can’t.” He slumped on to the edge of his bed.

  “What’s your attorney say about it?”

  “I don’t have an attorney.”

  “Still? Why not?”

  “Because I have you.”

  “That’s not funny, Jake. You need an attorney.”

  “I don’t trust public defenders. They’re all overworked and underpaid. And my corporate attorney is on safari in Kenya somewhere, completely off the grid. I couldn’t call him even if I wanted. And I’m not guilty, so I don’t need him anyway.”

  “That’s ridiculous. You’re in trouble here.”

  He shrugged. “So what are you doing to get me out of here?”

  “Jake, I’m trying, I swear, but I’m still baffled by those mushrooms. Did you really cook them? Why would you bring them only for Emmett?”

  “Yes, I cooked them, but I didn’t bring them or order them. They were already there in the kitchen when I got there. They had a note attached that said special request on it with Emmett’s name. I remembered how much he liked mushrooms, so I bit the bullet and sautéed them for him.”

  “Didn’t you think it was weird?”

  “Honestly? I thought he’d made some kind of big donation to the governor’s campaign and that gave him special dispensation or something.”

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. “You think quid pro quo for campaign donations are sautéed mushrooms?”

&nb
sp; “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know about politics.” Frustration caused Jake’s voice to notch up.

  “Was it the only special request?”

  “The only one with mushrooms. I’ve been over this a hundred times with Rico. Two gluten-free, one vegan, and four vegetarian.”

  “See? Those make sense.” It was Quinn’s turn to notch up her voice. “Didn’t you think it was weird that—”

  “Quinn. In retrospect, a lot of this has turned out to be weird. Give me a break.”

  She took a deep breath, then changed the subject.

  “I went to the Crazy Mule.”

  Jake’s eyes widened. “And?”

  “And I spoke to a waitress named Kelli Mahan. Remember her?” Jake nodded. Quinn proceeded to tell Jake about their conversation.

  When she finished, Jake nodded again. “Emmett’s been saying for years that I ruined his business. He told anyone who’d listen that I stole his recipes and ideas. He couldn’t stand that I was the more talented chef. And then someone wrote an article about me that irked Emmett. He thought it was going to be an interview about him, but it turned into a bigger thing about the restaurants and my involvement.”

  “Do you know how I can reach Margosha, Emmett’s ex-wife?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to talk to her about all this—why do you think?” Quinn wasn’t able to keep the irritation out of her voice.

  “Her number’s in my Rolodex. Do you know what that is?”

  “Of course I do,” she snapped. “It’s—” She almost let it slip that it was on her list of rare words to try to use in a crossword. Instead she said, “It’s something I’ve seen Jessica Fletcher use.”

  “Who? Never mind. I don’t care. Margosha’s number is in there. The last one I had for her, anyway. We haven’t talked in a while.”