by Lynn Cahoon
The rush of students in and around the quad made her homesick for her days as a carefree coed. She’d loved her time at the school. Learning new things, reading new authors, expanding her mind. But when she’d found her path through the world of cooking, she’d been laser focused on getting her degree and setting up her own restaurant, especially after she’d met Todd and Felicia. She’d thought the trio would be friends forever. Then she and Todd became a couple. Felicia had stayed a steadfast friend, even if she didn’t like the relationship. And now, looking back, Felicia had been right.
Angie smiled at the thought. Her friend Felicia was right, if not always, then at least 99 percent of the time. She had a knack for reading people, which was why Angie counted on her to do most of the hiring. She climbed the steps to the building and glanced around at the signs. Finally, she picked new registrations. At least they might be able to give her a map, as they probably dealt with visiting prospective students and their parents all the time.
A young girl with black-rimmed glasses stood at the counter. She looked up from a copy of what Angie realized was a Hemingway novel. Angie pegged her for a work-study student and aimed toward her. Maybe she could give her some gossip that the more seasoned employees would know not to share.
“Can I help you?” The girl slipped a bookmark to save her place and moved the book to the side.
“Yes, I’m lost. I’m looking for the culinary school.” She shrugged helplessly. “When I called, Professor Monet gave me directions, but I didn’t actually write them down.”
“Professor Monet?” The girl glanced around, but the rest of the desks were empty. Apparently, everyone was on break, which also worked in Angie’s favor. She could see she wanted to talk but didn’t want to look bad in the eyes of her coworkers. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but he’s dead.”
When Angie put on a look of shock she didn’t feel, the girl nodded in sympathy. “I know, right? He was such a cutie too. He used to come in here all the time because he’d forget where his meetings were being held. He was as bad as some of the freshmen. Of course, he was Canadian, so maybe they do things differently at their colleges, but he never seemed to have a clue on what he needed to do.”
“Oh, my. He’s dead? What happened? Was it an accident?”
“No. He was murdered. Can you believe it? Right here in little Boise. I mean, I’ve never met someone who had been murdered. Or at least I don’t know about it. Of course, I wouldn’t meet them after they were murdered, well, you know what I mean.”
Angie thought about what she wanted to know from the gossip train that surrounded the college. “Who killed him? Do they have the suspect in custody?”
“I guess they did, but they had to let her go.” The girl glanced around again before she spoke. “They are saying it’s a student and they were having an affair.”
Angie thought the girl look more scandalized about the affair than Daniel’s murder. “Really?”
“I know, right?” The girl twisted her hair. “I mean, I thought he was cute, but he had to be in his forties or something. Way too old for someone in college. Anyway, if your meeting was with Professor Monet, I guess it got canceled.”
“I still need to go over and check in. Can you show me what building their offices are in?” Angie waited as the girl pulled out a paper map and with a purple pen, drew a walking path to the culinary school. “So the professor didn’t have one of these maps?”
The girl looked up, confused. “What? Of course he did. I gave it to him the first time he came in looking for the library. Why?”
“You said he didn’t know where he was going.” Angie folded the map and put it in her pocket.
“For meetings. The departments are all required to come to meetings with their dean once a month. He was always forgetting about them. I guess they didn’t have all-campus meetings where he came from. We always have one for the professors every quarter and the first week of every session. The president likes to put a face to all the policies.” She straightened as an older woman with her gray hair pulled back in a bun came into the office from a side door. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Time to get back to business, Angie thought. “No. You’ve been most helpful. You have a knack for working with people. I hope you have a lovely day.”
The girl beamed at her as the old lady shook her head. Angie’s opinion had been noted and dismissed just as fast. Leaving the Administration Building, she pulled out her map. The culinary school was on the other side of the campus by the stadium. Instead of taking the straighter shot from where she was through the mass of student bodies, Angie instead turned to the greenbelt. Inside the campus, there was a path that mirrored the park greenbelt on the other side. It didn’t go as far, but it would get her to the other side of the campus.
The trees had been busy dropping their leaves all over the blacktopped path. Angie’s movement was accented by the crunch of leaves under her feet, and with every leaf she stepped on, a smell filled the area, reminding her of football games and bonfires that she’d attended during her college years. Thank God Hope and her friend had chosen Tuesday night to watch the soccer game. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have an alibi at all. Angie heard someone coming up behind her at a fast pace. Now she wanted Felicia’s pepper spray, but she’d given it back. She spun around to look the oncoming person full in the face. Her shoulders dropped almost immediately when she saw campus security coming toward her on a Segway.
Something must have shown on her face as the guy paused near her. “You okay, miss?”
Angie put a hand on her heart. “You gave me a start. I didn’t think anyone else was out here.”
“Typically they’re not, but we do our rounds anyway. Especially on beautiful fall days like today. You be careful now. Maybe you shouldn’t be taking deserted walking paths. You never know what might be lurking.” He tipped his hat, then took off on his Segway again.
Angie stepped up her pace and checked her watch. It was almost noon. She’d see what she could find out at the college, then grab lunch at one of the drive-ins on the way home. She needed to be at the County Seat no later than two. She could hear Ian telling her to slow down. She always tried to fill her day too much for his taste. “Pot, meet kettle,” she whispered as she marched the last few feet to where the path turned into the other half of the campus.
Was she missing him already? They’d only been dating a few months, but she thought she felt a hole in her heart because he wasn’t here to talk to or hold on to. Man, she had it bad. She pushed thoughts of Ian away and made her way to the culinary building. Opening the door, she stepped inside into a heavenly smell. Someone was baking cakes.
She checked the directory and, again, pretended she was looking for a professor. Which she was, but she knew where Daniel was, just not where his office was. She headed up the three flights to his office. As long as the girl from the office hadn’t called over, letting them know she was on her way, she could play dumb about Daniel’s demise. She’d have to take the risk.
When she reached the third floor, she found herself in a narrow hallway with doors on either side. According to the building directory, Professor Monet’s office was 309. The numbers were painted on the frosted glass window of the doors. Most of the offices she passed had open doors but were empty. As she passed by office after office, she noticed rows of book-lined bookshelves and desks stacked with paper.
Office 309 was no different. She glanced back down the hallway, but no one was watching her. In fact, the faculty seemed to be all in class. Or in a meeting. She eased into his office and shut the door behind her. She slipped on the garden gloves that she’d taken from the barn that morning. Going behind his desk, she flipped through the papers, all recipes and reports. Then she tried the desk drawers. Locked. Sitting in his chair, she glanced around the room. Cookbooks and travel journals lined the offi
ce.
She took out her phone and documented everything she saw. Then, tucking it back inside her tote with her gloves, she walked toward the door and froze. A body was outlined in the frosted glass. But instead of knocking or coming inside, it bent down and an envelope slid under the door. Angie watched as the shadow disappeared, then she picked up the envelope. She turned it over, but nothing was written on the outside. She opened the door and looked out into the hallway. No one was around. Whoever had dropped off the note had gotten out of there fast.
Glancing one more time around the office, she saw a second envelope that must have slid under the desk. She knelt and grabbed it. She considered opening them, but then she heard voices coming from the elevator. Quickly she tucked both envelopes into her tote and stepped out of the office. She made it to the stairs before anyone saw her.
Leaning against the wall, she listened to the conversations coming from the faculty offices.
“He was such a strange man. No wonder he’s dead,” a male voice said.
“Tom, you’re just jealous because all the sophomores loved his classes more than yours,” a different male voice teased.
“I believe professors should hold a certain level of decorum. He wanted to be everyone’s friend. And if you ask me, a little more than friends with some of the younger, prettier students.”
“That’s just a rumor. The girls took his classes because he was drop-dead gorgeous. I remember having a crush on one of my professors. Okay, maybe more than one,” a female voice added. “I guess I should drop the dead part.”
“Who wants to grab a drink after classes end today? I’m feeling a little human after that over-the-top eulogy the dean just gave our departed friend. I’m pretty sure the Daniel I knew wasn’t a saint.” The second male voice chimed into the conversation.
“Sure. Grab me after class. I’d rather not walk by that empty office again. It creeps me out.”
The hallway got quiet and Angie started down the stairs. When she reached the bottom floor she went outside and sat on the stone bench in front of the building. Daniel hadn’t been well liked by his peers, that was certain. Angie wondered if any of them had done a Google search on the new guy.
“More questions than answers,” she mumbled, then smiled at a young woman who was just coming out of the building. “Practicing a speech.”
“Oh, well, good luck.” The girl scurried down the stairs and headed toward another building.
Angie glanced at her watch. Even if she power walked back to the car and skipped the drive-in stop, she was going to be late. And she wasn’t giving up food. She dialed Felicia’s number and let her friend know her new ETA. Then she hurried to the car. She’d grab lunch and eat on the way.
And think about what she’d learned about Daniel today.
When she got to the restaurant, Felicia cornered her before she could even make it to her office. “Now, don’t be mad.”
Angie unlocked the office and put her tote under her chair. She had been going to sit for a few minutes and read the notes, but that could wait. They were more than likely condolence letters from his students, especially the ones who had, as the woman said, a crush on the guy. Probably sad, poetic goodbyes that no one but a young, heartbroken woman could pen. She remembered writing a few of them in the darkness of her dorm room during her college years.
“Why would I be mad?” She flipped on the computer so she could check her schedule. “How many covers are we doing tonight?”
“We’re fully booked with two anniversaries, so I did a special dessert for both couples, but it’s not that.” Felicia slumped into the visitor’s chair. “You know I have my yoga class on Fridays, right?”
“Please tell me you didn’t sign me up. I’ll pay for the class if you have, but there is no way I’m going to do that again.” Angie rolled her shoulders back. “I just don’t bend that way.”
“No.” Felicia’s lips curved into a smile. “But now that you mention it, you should come to class. At least once a week. It would be good for your flexibility.”
“No. And if that’s it, I need to go help with prep.” She scanned the list of reservations. “No special requests, except the anniversaries?”
“No special requests.” Felicia waved her down when she started to stand. “But that’s not what I need to tell you.”
Angie leaned back in her chair and watched her friend. What was going on in Felicia’s mind? Taylor? Was she quitting so she could volunteer full-time with her new boyfriend? Save the world together? Or had she signed the team up to do another day of cooking for the shelter? She decided to wait it out and let Felicia tell her what she was going to be mad about. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“I can hear your mind working from over here in my chair. It’s really not that big a deal, and we’ve already talked about doing this, but the date has been moved up for the first outing.”
Angie felt the confused frown take over her face. “A date for what?”
Felicia took a deep breath to steady herself. “Like I said, I was at yoga, and those women have been asking for a cooking class for months. So when I mentioned we were starting the program, they talked me into one next Tuesday.”
Angie flipped her gaze to the calendar on her computer. “Tuesday? We can’t even get marketing out there to fill the class by then. I’ve done some preliminary numbers, and we need at least twenty students to make the cost worthwhile. And I haven’t even talked to Estebe about working that day.”
“I know there are a lot of details to get finalized before Tuesday, and I’ll help with anything, including being your slave during the class if you need me.” Felicia sighed. “I’m not sure how it happened. I was talking about the November class and someone mentioned needing new ideas for fall menu planning. And someone else chimed in about wouldn’t it be nice to have a class for just this group once a month, and then they set a date.”
“And it became Tuesday.” Angie shook her head. Felicia was always getting pulled into other people’s plans. “So not only do we have a new class this Tuesday, we’ll be doing this group monthly? How many people are we talking about?”
“Twenty—twenty-five max. I told them they had to call me tomorrow with a final number. They’ve set up a little committee to handle the invite list.” Felicia shrugged, her face a little red. “They have committees for everything. I’m on the Christmas party planning committee. We may be hosting that here in December.”
“It’s just a yoga class. Who does Christmas parties for a yoga class?”
“Oh, Angie, it’s so much more than just yoga. I’ve had to turn down several invites for dinner parties, weekend outings to different local sites, and in January the whole group is going to Sun Valley for a week.” Felicia glanced at the clock. “But I’m keeping you from the kitchen, and my servers should be showing up any time to set up for tonight. I’m sorry to drop this on you.”
“No problem. Your sorority is welcome. I’ll talk to Estebe and make sure he or one of the other chefs can work that day. At least it will increase hours around here.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “And we haven’t talked about holiday parties. Maybe we should put it out there that we’re open to private parties during the week for November and December. It’s kind of late in the game, but we might get some parties.”
“I’ll talk to Tori. She’s an event planner part-time. She could probably get us some bookings.” Felicia started to stand. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m excited to try something new. The fact you have a pre-made group to pay for the experiment is kind of a bonus.” Angie’s mind was already going to what she’d menu plan for the class. “Maybe we’ll do a class on soups.”
“You’re the best. Every time life throws you a curveball, you figure out a way to knock it out of the park.” Felicia walked toward the office door.
“Since when did you start with the sports anal
ogies?” Angie turned off her computer and followed her out of the office.
Felicia laughed. “I guess I’m picking it up from Taylor. The guy loves his sports. Which is one reason I’m glad I work on weekends. Otherwise, I’d be in some sports bar watching some game I had no interest in just to spend time with the guy.”
And the fact Felicia would actually consider doing that told Angie that this relationship was serious. She hoped for her friend’s sake that Saint Taylor was all he was cracked up to be.
Chapter 7
As soon as she walked into the kitchen, Angie could smell the tomato basil bisque they’d added to their menu in August but would soon be replaced with a soup made of more fall veggies. They’d already added butternut squash soup. And on Fridays, they had a loaded baked potato soup. There were three that she could do with this cooking class easily. She went over and washed her hands, buttoning her chef coat as she took in the preparations. Her team was on top of things. Honestly, Angie could take a day or so off, and the world wouldn’t collapse. Maybe if and when Ian returned, she’d suggest a weekend trip somewhere.
Pushing thoughts of Ian aside, she stood next to Estebe, watching him finish cutting the rib eye steaks they’d be serving that night. He set the knife down and put the last steak on the tray. As he wiped his hands on a towel, he looked at her. “Go ahead and ask.”
Surprised, Angie looked up at his face. “Ask what?”
“You always have that look on your face when you think you’re asking a favor. Do you need to leave us tonight? Or maybe tomorrow?” He grabbed the tray and headed to the walk-in. “I’m sure we can muddle through without you.”
“I’m not leaving you tonight or tomorrow.” But, Angie thought, this was a good sign for her possibly taking a weekend off soon. “Besides, you’ll miss me too much.”
“That is not possible. Now, Hope, if she asked for time off, her we would miss. She’s a hard worker.” Estebe gave Hope a smile as he passed by her workstation where she was chopping vegetables. “You are good at the boss stuff. But I can do the boss stuff fine by myself.”
