by Lynn Cahoon
Relief flooded through Angie and she took a long breath. “Hope, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I’m responsible for Professor Monet’s death.” She hitched in a few breaths and started sobbing again.
“Wait, what are you saying? Did something happen? Did he hurt you?” There was no way Angie was going to let Hope take the blame for reacting if she had been attacked. “When you were in his house, did he hurt you?”
Hope looked up at her, confusion showing in her eyes. “Did who hurt me?”
“Daniel. Did he hurt you or force himself on you in any way?” Maybe this wasn’t the time to be talking about a sensitive subject like this, but she needed to know so Hope wouldn’t say something incriminating to the police the next time they interviewed her. Unless she already had. But if that was the case, she wouldn’t be here, she’d be locked up in jail. “Honey, it’s all right. Tell me what happened.”
“No. Professor Monet didn’t hurt me. He asked me inside for a glass of wine. He wanted to talk about my senior project and what I was thinking about doing for it.” Hope wiped her sleeve across her cheeks, damp from tears. “He was going to be my advisor if he stayed another semester.”
“So you went into his house.”
“We had a glass of wine, then Morgan called and reamed me for keeping her waiting. I told the professor I’d talk to him tomorrow and left.” She took a deep breath. “If I had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t have been attacked. I could have saved him.”
“You probably would have been dead too if you had been there when the killers came to the door.” Matt handed her a paper towel.
“I didn’t mean I could have fought them off, but maybe if I had been there, they would have gone to another house. I don’t know. I just know I left, and now he’s dead.” Hope wiped her eyes with the paper towels. “Am I being oversensitive about this? I mean, he was only my professor and I hadn’t even known him that long.”
“It’s hard to wrap your head around any death, no matter how long you’ve known the person.” Estebe held out his hands, and when she took them, he pulled her to her feet. “Now, go wash your face, and when you come back, I will teach you how to make my green tomato steak sauce. We’re trying it out tonight with the rib eye.”
She nodded, then threw herself into Estebe’s arms and gave him a hug. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. I really appreciate the lawyer and the ride and the advice.”
“And now you’ll appreciate the tutoring too.” He patted her on the head and then turned her toward the restrooms. “Go on now, get cleaned up. We can’t have you crying tears into the food. You’ll make our customers sad.”
No one said anything until Hope had left the room. Felicia sighed. “That girl has such a big heart, it’s no wonder she’s so upset. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. The police have to know that, right?”
“From what my cousin told me, Hope has a solid alibi, as she was with Morgan and a couple of hundred others watching the game when Daniel was killed. They only called her in due to her prints on the wineglass.” Estebe walked back and washed his hands in the sink. “The girl has nothing to worry about.”
“Except she was in the dude’s house.” Matt followed Estebe to the sink. “She’s probably toast. Maybe we should start looking for a new dishwasher.”
“Matt!” Angie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.
He turned and grinned at her. “Just kidding, boss. You know Hope’s like my little sister. She’s annoyingly good. All the time. To see her in a little bit of trouble? Well, it does my heart good.”
“You better not let her hear you say that.” Estebe picked up his chef knife and went back to work on the vegetables. “I think she can take you.”
Felicia took Angie’s arm as they walked back to the office. “Do we have insurance that could cover an employee’s legal fees?”
“I don’t think so.” Angie rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You think it’s going to be okay, right?”
“I hope so.”
Angie tried to go back to working on the numbers, but now everything was running together. She turned off the computer. Too soon for family dinner, but she didn’t want to go into the kitchen. Not yet. She grabbed a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and headed over to where Felicia was working on setting up the dining room.
“I’m going for a walk down Indian Creek.” She glanced at her watch. “I should be back in twenty minutes if anyone comes looking for me.”
“Like Ian?” Felicia knew her moods.
“No, like the kitchen crew. I told you that Ian’s out of the country for who knows how long.” Angie knew she sounded snippy, but she didn’t want to talk about Ian, not now. “Look, I just want to clear my head for a while. I’ll be back.”
Felicia pushed a cylinder container into her hands. “Take this. It’s pepper spray. Just in case.”
“I’m just going for a walk.” Angie tried to hand it back, but Felicia folded her arms. Angie sighed and tucked it into her pants pocket. “Fine, but I feel stupid.”
“Better feeling stupid and being safe.”
Nona had said something like that once when Angie had called home from California. Everyone in her life must think she was a flaming idiot. She ran into one of the servers who was coming in the door as she was going out.
“Sorry.” The perky young woman smiled as she recognized Angie. “You heading out already?”
Emotion threatened to overwhelm her, so she just shook her head and kept walking. She’d be better with a walk. Calm down, cool down, and get her mind straight. What had Ian been thinking, taking off like that? Now she had two people to worry about, him and Hope. She kept seeing the fear on the girl’s face. She knew Hope couldn’t have killed anyone, but knowing that and proving it were two different things.
She needed to come up with a plan to get the attention off her dishwasher, sooner rather than later. She’d heard that you always need to look at the victim and that would lead you to the killer. Or at least that was the way it worked in her favorite mystery books. When she got home tonight, she’d look up Daniel Monet on the internet. That should give her an idea what the guy was like. Or had been like, she corrected herself. Then first thing Friday morning, she’d head over to the school. It was long past time for her to make an appearance, especially since one of her staff was working on her degree there.
And that should give Angie the access she needed to find out what Daniel Monet was doing in Boise. It seemed strange that someone would come here for a visiting professor position, but maybe he liked the Idaho climate and closeness to outdoor sports like skiing and hiking. The guy had looked like he kept in shape. But again, why leave Canada for a place that kind of mirrored where he came from?
She wasn’t answering any questions, but at least her breathing had returned to normal and she didn’t feel like punching something. She’d try to catch Sheriff Brown just before service started Friday night, and if she missed him, she knew where he’d be Sunday morning.
The Browns attended River Vista Methodist, just like Ian did. She could get there early and hang out in the parking lot until he and his wife arrived. Then he’d have to tell her what was going on with Ian.
By the end of the weekend, she should have both of these matters wrapped up into neat little boxes and tied with a bow. Feeling more settled and a lot more positive, she turned around on the greenbelt and headed back to toward town. A man in a black coat and ball cap was on the path behind her. When he saw her turn around, he turned and almost dove off the sidewalk and into the bushes.
Thinking something must have happened, Angie ran to the spot where she’d seen the man, but all she saw was him running up the road that went out of town. He turned back, and when their eyes met, he pushed forward faster.
“Were you watching me?” Angie fingered the pepper spray in her pocket. She’d never catch up with the guy and b
esides, why run toward trouble. Maybe she had just startled him. Maybe he was out for a jog and thought the path was empty. Or maybe her first instinct was the correct one. But if the man had been watching her, why? An alarm went off on her watch. It was time for family meal. The team would be worried if she didn’t show up. Besides, what was she supposed to do with a stalker who took off running as soon as he was noticed? She’d tell the sheriff, but that guy was doing a great job of ignoring her for the last few days. She kept walking toward the County Seat.
When she got inside the restaurant, she saw worry in Felicia’s face that quickly disappeared once Angie walked inside. She nodded to the kitchen. “They’re in there, waiting for you. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Can I bring my early shift in to eat too?”
“Of course.” Angie paused at the kitchen door, her hand flat on the wood. She needed to be 100 percent here tonight. Otherwise, she had no business being in the kitchen. It wasn’t the safest of work environments and she didn’t want to get herself or worse, someone else, hurt by being in her head. She took a deep breath and settled her mind. She could worry about the rest tomorrow—or, more likely, when she wasn’t sleeping tonight. Right now, all that mattered was the food, her team, and the customers. Pasting on a smile she didn’t feel, she pushed open the door.
The team was already at the table. Nancy had joined them sometime during the day, and she and Matt chatted. Hope sat pushing her food around her plate, and Estebe had just brought over a dish of pasta with spareribs. The smell of the tomato sauce made Angie’s mouth water. No matter how upset she might get, food always had the healing power.
“Come sit down. Tell us about the food we’ll be cooking tonight. Is there anything special from your grandmother?” Estebe smiled and patted the chair between him and Hope. “Come and eat. You need the sustenance before we go into battle.”
Hope looked at him, confused. “You see cooking as a battle?”
“And you don’t?” He dished up some of the pasta, then held out his hand for Hope’s plate. “Cooking is the ultimate battle. We have to gather the ingredients, sometimes from hostile areas. Then we have to master the art of the flame to cook the item. Then we have to hope our customers are as wooed by the taste of the food as the presentation our lovely chef sends out to the dining room.”
Felicia and her servers had come in during this talk. She sat next to Estebe, probably because the other two were too frightened of the guy. “I can see that kind of logic. Especially from a man. But as a pastry chef, baking is like a chemistry experiment. Sometimes it works, sometimes you fail.”
Angie loved listening to chefs talk. They all had such different perspectives on the craft. Some saw it as a job, some as a calling. The people who lived to cook, those were the ones she loved being around. And apparently, the ones she hired. She noticed Hope’s eyes light up as the discussion continued. The girl loved cooking. She’d be fine, once this was behind her.
As they finished up dinner, Angie walked out of the kitchen and went to the reservations stand with Felicia. “So we’re good for tonight?”
“We filled up as soon as we opened the slots and updated our hours on the website. I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about filling the restaurant, no matter how many nights we open for.”
Angie shrugged. “I don’t know. We’re not into winter yet. I’d hate to slack off and think we’re fine and have a snowstorm keep us closed until the spring thaw.”
“We’ve been talking about opening a Saturday chef class. Can I schedule one for early November, maybe on locally sourced ideas for Thanksgiving, and a Christmas treat one for December?” Felicia paused and watched her.
“Maybe two in December? One for sweet and one for savory?” Angie took out her phone and made some notes. “Let’s sit down on Monday and plan this out. We might even turn the sweets into a mommy and me class. I wonder if that will affect our insurance.”
The doors opened and their first customers arrived. Angie stuck her phone back into her pocket and skirted out of the foyer. She’d let Felicia play hostess. That wasn’t really her scene, although she was sure Felicia would pull her out of the kitchen sometime tonight to meet one of the patrons. She was excited about the cooking classes. She could bring in one or more of the kitchen staff and build up hours that way.
She stopped by her office and noticed the flashing light on her message machine. She took a minute to sit and let the message play.
“Hey, Angie. Sorry I’m not there. I know you probably have all kinds of questions. I might even have some answers when I come back.” The message machine picked up Ian’s laugh, but it didn’t sound like he was truly having fun. “I just wanted to say I miss you and I’m sorry I didn’t stop by before I left.”
A train whistle blew in the background.
Ian came back on the line. “I’ve got to go. See you in three days’ or a week’s time, tops. I love you.”
And then the message ended. Angie played it again. He had been waiting for a train. But a train to where? Where was he? Her heart ached a little as she stood from her desk and slipped on her chef coat. She didn’t have time to wonder, except one last question hit her as she was turning off the lights and locking the office door. Why hadn’t he called her cell?
Pushing thoughts of Ian out of her head, she went into her kitchen and got lost in the service.
At home she lay in bed trying to sleep. Dom was already snoring in his puppy bed that she needed to replace again since he barely fit inside. She picked up her phone and dialed Ian’s number. It went straight to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message.
Then she dialed again. This time after his cheery message inviting her to leave her name, number, and the reason for her call, she spoke quickly. “Thanks for the message this afternoon. I miss you, lots. Be safe and come home soon.”
She hung up the phone and set it on the bedside table. Then she turned off the light and cuddled into bed. Sleep didn’t find her for hours.
* * * *
Friday morning, she dragged herself out of bed and, with a cup of coffee in hand, went out to feed the zoo. She didn’t stop and talk to Precious and she almost threw Mabel’s corn into her water dish. She had to get some sleep tonight, no matter what. If she didn’t, on Saturday she might as well just call in sick since she wouldn’t be any help in the kitchen at all.
Back in the house, she poured a bowl of cereal and opened her laptop. She probably should have done this last night while she wasn’t sleeping, but she’d suffered through. She’d read somewhere that working on the computer at night tricked your body into thinking it wasn’t time for bed. She didn’t want to add to her insomnia.
She took out a notebook, turned it to a blank page, and started writing down everything she found on the handsome professor. He’d made a big splash at the college when he’d arrived a couple of months ago. He’d refused to give interviews, but that hadn’t stopped the local journalists who liked a challenge. Reclusive chef turned professor, he eats what he teaches was one headline. Angie thought the author could have been a little more creative.
She found his official bio on the school website and wrote down the places where he’d taught before, where he’d gone to school, and where he’d been employed as a chef. The lineup was impressive, which led Angie to the same question she’d had yesterday. Why did someone with this type of background come and teach in Idaho? Not that Boise State wasn’t a good school, but she knew the college wasn’t paying him half of what he could have made in a larger town or staying where he was.
She went to the website for the last college listed on his résumé. He wasn’t listed as attached to the school. Which wasn’t unusual. He was gone on sabbatical or whatever they called it. But then she found no mention of the guy in any of the other places where he’d lived or worked, or even where he’d gone to school.
Daniel Monet was a ghost before he’d arriv
ed in Boise. And maybe that’s what had gotten him killed.
Chapter 6
She called the police station, and after a little bit of back and forth, she was sent to the sheriff’s voicemail. Was it this case or Ian he didn’t want to talk about? But she didn’t have much time for wondering. Today she was going into Boise to check out the school. She might not find out anything, but at least she would have tried. And then she could put this worry away. There was nothing more she could do to help Hope. Besides, according to Estebe, Hope had an airtight alibi for the time Daniel was killed.
This visit was just for Angie’s peace of mind. From what she had found or, actually, hadn’t found on Daniel Monet last night, she was concerned.
She made sure everyone was fed and watered, as she wouldn’t be home until late. On work nights, she refed everyone just before she left. Hoping that they wouldn’t just eat everything all at once was a long shot, but at least she’d tried. She gave Dom a hug, grabbed her tote bag with her notebook and tablet, and headed off to school.
The campus sat just south of downtown Boise, on the opposite bank of one of the major parks for the area, Julia Davis Park. There was a footbridge that joined the campus to the greenbelt that ran twenty-nine miles east and west along the river. Angie had habitually run that path when she had attended classes. It was a great way to clear her mind. She pulled into visitor parking, put coins into the meter, and headed into the Administration Building to find out where the culinary school was housed.
The campus was so much bigger than it had been six years ago when she’d left for California. And from what she’d seen driving in, it was still growing. She got the alum magazine and sometimes paged through it before recycling. It wasn’t that she didn’t care, she just had other things on her mind, like growing a new restaurant and the business of that. Now she wished she’d paid more attention. She knew the school had been set to move to a different location, but she had no clue.
