by Lynn Cahoon
“We’re not going to run into a ghost.” Angie put her hand on Reana’s shoulder. “But if you want to stay out here?”
“No. I’m a professional. I should be with you when you tour the house.” She opened the door to a huge foyer. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“I guess I’ll know it if I find it.” She nodded toward the right. “The game room’s that way, right?”
“Go ahead, I’m not in charge of this fool’s errand.” Reana shut the door behind them and flipped on the hallway lights. “I can’t believe how dark it is in here. They’re never going to sell it until they lighten the place up.”
Angie walked through the hallway toward the game room. At the end of the hallway was a set of double doors. She knew in her heart this was the room. She opened the doors, somewhat expecting to see Daniel standing behind them. Instead, the room was dark. Reana reached over and flipped on more lights. Fingerprinting powder covered every surface, including the pool table. Blood or some type of dark fluid had stained the green felt. “That’s going to have to be replaced.”
“Definitely.” Reana shuddered. “I don’t see anything in the room that tells us anything about the killer, do you?”
“I didn’t think the clues would be here. Do you know where he set up his office?” She glanced at Reana.
“What, you think I’m his secretary? This is the first time I’ve been in the place too. Give me a break.”
They stepped into the hallway, and that’s when they heard the bang from upstairs. “We’re not the only ones here,” Angie whispered.
“We should get out of here,” Reana said at the same time.
Angie shook her head. “Let’s see if we can find out what made the sound.” She grabbed a baseball bat that had been tucked in a corner of the game room. Probably just a prop, but it would do if she needed it. She glanced back at Reana as she started up the stairs. “Get your phone out and get ready to call 911 if we need to.”
“I think we need to now.” Reana rolled her eyes when Angie shook her head. “Fine, let’s go see what’s in the basement like the too-stupid-to-live girls always do in the movies.”
Angie pressed her lips together to make sure she didn’t laugh at Reana’s descriptor. When she got to the second-floor landing, she paused, pointing toward the pool of light pouring out of one of the rooms at the top of the stairs. She inched toward the doorway, then clutching the bat tight, made a quick peek into the room.
Then she did a second take. She set the bat down and stepped into the room. “Tanya, what are you doing here?”
The woman was sitting on a round bed covered in a red satin cover and crying. Tissues covered the bed like snow on the red background. She looked at Angie and sniffed. “I just miss him so much. We were going to be together. I was going to divorce Steve and we were going to be together. And now he’s dead.”
The tears started up again, and Reana stepped into the room and snapped a photo of the crying woman.
“What are you doing?” Angie turned her head and stared at Reana.
Reana’s face flushed. “If she kills us, there will be evidence on my cloud account. I’m not stupid.”
“I’m not going to kill you. Someone killed my Danny. Why would someone kill such a gentle man?”
The over-the-top grief Tanya was showing seemed to be diminishing as she followed her statement with only two sobs this time. Then she glanced at her watch.
“I’ve got to go. I’m expected at a cocktail party this evening.” She wiped her face with the tissue, then opened her purse.
Angie could feel Reana stiffen, but then she relaxed when Tanya pulled out a compact.
“My eye makeup is ruined. I need to be home before Steve or he’ll see me like this.” She dabbed on some power, then shoved the compact into her purse.
“How did you get in?”
Tanya glanced around the room, probably making sure she hadn’t left anything except the tissues. “Daniel gave me a key.”
“Oh.” Angie watched as Tanya made her way out of the room, then paused at the doorway.
“So how did you two get inside?”
“I’m a Realtor.” Reana held out a hand to shake, then thought better of it and let it drop.
Seemingly satisfied with the answer, Tanya made her way downstairs. Angie leaned over the banister. “Hey, did Daniel have an office here in the house?”
Tanya turned and looked at her. Curiosity filled her face. “Of course. It’s the next room over from the bedroom. What are you looking for?”
“Honestly? I have no idea.”
Tanya nodded, then strolled toward the door. When Angie heard the door close, she turned toward Reana. “Office is the next room.”
“What if she calls the cops?” Reana took a few steps toward the stairs. “We should leave.”
“She’s not going to call anyone. We found her here, and she doesn’t want anyone to know about her and Daniel.” Angie smiled. “Mutual assured destruction. She rats us out, we let her husband know about the affair. And besides, you have a slightly legitimate reason to be here. You’re showing a house to a potential client.”
“You’re devious. I didn’t realize this about you.” Reana followed Angie down the hall. “If someone kills me, I want you to find the killer. You’re good at this stuff.”
“I just keep asking questions. Like why would a chef have an office on the second floor when the kitchen is on the main floor?”
Reana studied her. “Where’s your office?”
“At home it’s in the kitchen. I made room for a desk I can work at if I don’t want to work at the table. Which is where you typically find me working on recipes and stuff.” Angie opened the door to find an over-the-top office more suited for a country gentleman than a working professor. The desk was almost totally empty. A pen and pencil set sat in the middle on top of a green blotter that reminded Angie just a little too much of the pool table downstairs.
She sat at the desk and started to pull out drawers. Pens, pencils, a stapler sat in one. In another was empty files. In another, blank paper. And in the last one, a tablet. She pulled it onto the desk and sat down, hoping Daniel hadn’t used a password.
The blinking screen disappointed her immediately when she booted the computer. Enter password. She went through the drawers again, trying to find a place where he’d written down a password, but nothing. She stared at the blinking curser, then typed TopChef.
“Why would that be his password?” Reana peered over her shoulder. When the main page came on, she whistled. “Wow, you’re good at this.”
“I’m thinking Daniel’s actual culinary schooling wasn’t at an accredited school. According to Hope, the guy liked the students to experiment on a theme he’d give them. It just reminded me of the challenges on the show.” She went straight to the computer’s history. When it booted up, her guess was confirmed. The guy had watched a lot of the old Top Chef and other cooking shows within the last six months. He’d also checked in with a local newspaper in Fort McMurray, Alberta. She pointed to the newsletter’s masthead. “Maybe this was where he came from, not Toronto.”
“Seems logical. But why would he lie?”
“That’s the question, right?” She flipped through the rest of the programs and email accounts available on the tablet. He’d set up his work email to come to the tablet, so a lot of the emails that had arrived in the last week were letters of goodbye. She saw one from Tanya and clicked it open. As she’d suspected, it was filled with longing and graphic descriptors of what they’d done to each other. None of the other new emails indicated such an intimate relationship, but Angie knew there was at least one more, if the rumors were true.
She was just about to close the program when the subject on one email caught her attention: One last warning.
“Open it.”
When Angie did, th
ere was only one line. She read it aloud. “‘We’ve found you.’”
“That’s it?” Reana inched closer to read it herself. “Is there anything else from that sender?”
Angie sorted the emails by sender name. “Only this one. And it was a week before Daniel was killed. It could have been a joke.”
“We both know that’s not true. But why wouldn’t they tell him how to fix the problem? Like, isn’t that the way criminals act in the movies? Shouldn’t they have said something like ‘we found you, drop our money off at the Ice Cream Palace on Sunday in a duffel with unmarked bills’?” Reana shivered, then looked around the room, rubbing the top of her arms. “Do you think it’s cold in here?”
“The landlord probably turned down the heat after they took Daniel out. You know these houses eat up heat.” She turned off the computer and slipped it back into the desk. “I don’t think we’re going to find anything else here.”
“Thank goodness. I’m getting freaked out being here.” Reana headed to the door.
On the way out of the study, Angie noticed a coffee table book on London on the shelf. The book was well worn, like its owner had gone through the pages time and time again. Another clue that Daniel Monet was Ian’s Arnie. But like everything else, it was just a hint, not fact. She caught up with Reana. “Let’s just walk through the other rooms and then we’ll be done.”
“Promise?”
Angie nodded. “Definitely.”
They made their rounds in all of the rooms, and in each of them, as she had in the office, bedroom, and game room, Angie took several pictures. A brief flicker of doubt made her pause when she thought about what Sheriff Brown might say if he saw her camera roll, but she pressed on. Something might look off when she looked at it later. But as far as she could see, it looked like a house where a single man lived.
A single man who was posing as a culinary instructor. And who’d been killed for some reason. A reason she thought was right there, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it.
Chapter 14
Angie had spent the evening glancing at the pictures time and time again, alternating with scanning the Alberta newsletter, but by the time she’d gone to bed, all she succeeded in doing was building up to a headache.
Thursday morning, she did her chores and decided to put Daniel’s death on the back burner. More talented investigators than her were looking into the issue. She needed to focus on the upcoming service that night and the rest of the weekend. She also wanted to know what the response from the cooking class had been. Felicia should have had a yoga class with the women by now.
Angie spent the morning working on a recipe for Nona’s cookbook. At this rate, she should have something ready to show an agent by next spring. She could see the cover, a shot of Nona’s garden. Or maybe the County Seat. Something warm and comforting and inviting. Or, she thought as she stirred the potato soup she’d made that morning, finalizing the touches she’d added for the class, maybe just a pot of soup. There wasn’t anything more comforting than creamy potato soup. This was probably the one dish her Nona had made that to Angie said home. And love. She glanced over at Mrs. Potter’s empty house. Typically, she would have taken a batch over to her, but the woman and her granddaughter were still out of town. As the days passed, Angie wondered if she could stay in the warm, sunny climate of California where her son lived.
As the soup cooled, she dished up some for lunch, then added a turkey sandwich. The good thing about being a chef was she always had food around. The bad thing was she always had food around. She opened her laptop and scanned her emails. She had one from Reana basically telling her not to forget their deal.
One from Felicia that outlined the staff changes for the week’s schedule. Her kitchen staff rarely missed a shift, mostly because it was only part-time hours for most of them. Felicia also outlined the three new classes they’d already booked for the next month, including a mommy and me cookie class. She’d ask Nancy to work with her on that one. Nancy was trained as a pastry chef and loved desserts. She quickly emailed an outline to Nancy and one to Estebe on which classes she’d like them to take on.
With that done, she scanned her emails for anything else she needed to deal with. One stood out as total spam.
The subject line said Hi Angie.
She opened it, just in case it was someone who wasn’t used to email protocol. Like Mrs. Potter.
She read it aloud. “‘I really enjoyed our chance meetings, not once but twice. I know you said you are involved, but I’d love to meet for coffee. No strings. I’m leaving town in a few days, and would love to talk about what you saw in the cave. Yes, I looked you up when the park employees told me your story about finding the petroglyphs. No funny stuff, I promise. I’m just curious. Evan Morris.’”
Angie looked at the email address. It wasn’t from the university. Those typically had an .edu extension. No, this was a Gmail account. If this guy was on the level, why wasn’t he using his work email to reach out? On the other hand, she knew a lot of people who didn’t use their work email except when they were at work. Except this guy should be different, especially since he was supposedly on assignment to find out more about the recently discovered Native American drawings.
She went to refill her coffee cup. Maybe she was just seeing issues with everything. She reread the email. Now that Ian was back, it didn’t feel as much of an issue for her to meet this guy. What could coffee hurt? If he was who he said, she wanted to know what the university was planning on doing with the information. She’d hate to have her favorite hiking spot turned into a tourist trap. But if, as she thought, there was more to Evan than met the eye, this would be a great time to see what else she could find out about him.
She didn’t have to be at work until three. If Evan read his email, maybe they could set up a time today. She responded, telling him she’d meet him today at two at the Library. It was a coffee shop in Meridian and should be far enough away from the small-town gossips who liked to report all her actions to Ian.
Not only did Evan read his email, he had to be online now, because he answered within minutes of her sending the response.
Just to make sure Ian wasn’t in the dark with this, she sent him a quick text. Meeting a university professor for coffee about the cave at two. Will call you on the way home. That way, if something happened to her, at least someone would know to go looking.
Have fun. The response was quick.
Sure, you can text me now but you couldn’t have sent me one before you stepped onto that plane last week? Angie was still mad at his abrupt disappearance.
Feeling like she’d covered the bases, she got ready for work. By the time she stopped for coffee and drove back to River Vista, it would be almost time for her to start prep. Besides, she needed some planning time to outline these new classes Felicia had set up. The first time would be the most work. Then they could just rotate the classes through the year, adding one or two new ones for each season.
She went out to the barn and did the evening feeding early. Precious was out in the pasture and didn’t even look up when Angie filled her food dish. Mabel was out of the barn as well, looking for insects in the farm yard. At least when they returned for the night to their sleeping areas, they would have food available.
With the outside animals fed, she checked on Dom’s food and water. He watched her with mournful eyes as she put her notebook into her tote and grabbed her keys. Angie walked over and crouched down to give him some love. “Sorry, guy. It’s go-to-work day. Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. You know the drill. I’ll be home late but we’ll eat ice cream and watch a movie when I get back.”
Dom snorted and closed his eyes, pretending to go to sleep. She knew he’d walk the house a few times while she was gone. She’d started locking her bedroom door because she had a feeling, proven by an increase in dog hair on her comforter, that he was taking advantage of her absen
ce to sleep on her bed.
She kissed him on his broad forehead and locked the house. She loved the company of having the guy around while she was home, but she felt bad every time she left him to go to work. What would she do if she ever had kids? Of course, they wouldn’t be left alone. They’d be left with a babysitter or at a day care. She wasn’t sure what was worse. But she knew the leaving would break her heart every time.
Driving into town, Felicia called. Angie picked up the call on her Bluetooth. “What’s going on?”
“Just letting you know that I’m pulling in a temp bartender tonight. Jeorge caught some type of cold or flu and doesn’t want to leave the house.”
“That’s too bad. Maybe we should send him over some of that chicken soup we had left over from the class.”
“That’s a great idea. I’ll send one of the staff over as soon as I get a server here. You’re just full of good ideas lately. Why do you sound like you’re in the car? You don’t have to be here for a couple of hours.”
Angie told her about meeting with the guy from Utah.
“But you think there’s something hinky about him?” Felicia sounded worried. “So why are you meeting him?”
“Because maybe it’s just my imagination. Besides, I’d like to be part of documenting the new find if I can help.” Angie paused, trying to put her feelings into words. “I just think there’s something more to this Evan guy, and I want to figure out what it is. I sure haven’t been able to help Hope’s lawyers find out who really killed Daniel.”
“I’m sure I’ve said this before but, Angie, you’re a chef, not a private investigator or a law enforcement professional. You should be worrying about what you’re going to cook tonight, not why people are killed.”
“Why can’t I be the perfect superwoman?”
