Murder Al Fresco (16 page)

I was glad it was Steven and not one of the other uniforms who escorted me into the kitchen. Any of the other beat cops would have chattered or probed for information because, police or not, this was Beaverton, and the town ran on gossip. Steven just put a hand on my back and ushered me through the swinging door.

Detective Darryl Brown stood by the center island, issuing orders to some of the other officers. Jacob was also there, having ducked through the alley like I'd suggested. He sent me a brief nod and then chucked his thumb toward the office, indicating he'd wait there and speak to me when the police were through.

"Andy's here, Detective," Steven said then gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

I forced a smile for his sake and murmured, "Thanks, Steven. Tell Donna I'll call her as soon as I get the chance."

"Will do. Hang tough, Little Bit."

"Don't call me that." I grimaced at the awful nickname. It was only marginally better than Death Chef.

Steven and the other officers exited, leaving me to face Darryl. He was tall, built like a football player, and his cream-colored suit accentuated perfect mocha skin. Because he was a no-nonsense kinda guy, Darryl cut right to the chase. "Any idea who would want to trash the place?"

"Anyone who ate here yesterday," I grumbled. "Didn't you hear the entire restaurant came down with food poisoning?"

"I heard. My Aunt Henrietta was here." Darryl did deadpan like no one else.

"Of course she was," I grimaced. "Sorry."

The detective didn't as much as blink. If my crass comment affected him, he didn't show it. "Anybody else?"

I gaped. Half the town was in here at one point, hoping to hobnob with a celebrity. "Isn't that enough?"

"How many of them had a set of keys?" Darryl continued.

My eyebrows went up as my lips parted in shock. "Keys? But the window…"

"The window was broken from the inside, just a few minutes before Mimi's 9-1-1 call. Whoever did the damage broke the front window on their way out, not in. I checked the locks, and neither show signs they were tampered with. So that leaves someone who had access."

I needed a minute to digest that.

Darryl was a man on a mission though. "So who has keys?"

It was a short list. "I do, of course. Mimi because she lives here. Plus Pops and Aunt Cecily have a set."

"That's it? You're sure there isn't a spare set floating around out there somewhere?" Darryl prompted.

"I'm sure. Maybe Mimi left one of the doors unlocked? She told me she was tired." I felt bad blaming her, but it would have been a poorly timed accident, and I wasn't about to give her any grief over it.

"I already asked, and she swore she locked it." The detective dismissed that possibility. "Considering she lives upstairs, I'm confident she's telling the truth."

Needing to sit, I pulled out one of the wooden stools and lowered myself onto it. "Even if I'd wanted to open today, I can't. Not now."

Though there was a second stool, Darryl remained standing. "I need you to look around, make sure nothing was taken. Though this appears to be vandalism, there might be something we've missed."

"I don't keep valuables here," I told him. "At least nothing that would be worth much money and easy to transport."

Darryl crossed his massive arms over his chest. "Humor me."

I nodded. "It'll probably take a while."

Though I had his number programmed into my cell phone, Darryl slid me one of his business cards. "There are a few things I need to check up on, but call me if you think of anything else."

After promising I would, I saw him out then went to the office.

Jacob sat behind the tiny desk but rose when I opened the door. "Well?"

Ignoring how comfortable he looked at the helm of my sinking ship, I said, "The police are done, at least for now. I'm supposed to look around to see if anything's missing."

Jacob nodded. "Standard procedure. I'll get someone to see about boarding up that window. The last thing you need is prying eyes."

"Thanks," I replied sans snark. It meant a lot to me that not only was he sticking around to help but that he took the initiative when he saw something that needed to be done.

After he'd left, I glanced around the small office. Nothing was disturbed, and the ancient desktop computer was still there. I stared at the phone for a long moment. Three sets of keys. Mine were in my pocket, and Mimi claimed to have hers. Though this wasn't how I wanted to approach them, I had to ask.

Picking up the receiver, I dialed the familiar number. It was picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?" the gruff male voice answered.

"Pops?" I asked, unable to keep the quaver out of my voice. "Did you hear about the break-in?"

"I heard," his reply was terse, and my insides flipped over at the coldness in his voice. He didn't ask if I was all right, if anything had been taken. It was like talking to a stranger.

Swallowing my hurt, I cleared my throat. "I need to know, do you and Aunt Cecily have your keys?"

There was a pause, and I heard the sound of a drawer sliding open. "They're here."

"You're sure?" Because I had to be.

"I ain't senile," he snapped.

"Of course not," I agreed. "Pops, about yesterday—"
"I gotta go." There was a click and then a pause before the dial tone.

"Well, that could have gone better," I grumbled.

So three sets of keys all accounted for. I vividly remembered Jones locking the door when we left yesterday, and Mimi swore she had locked up too. Detective Brown said the locks hadn't been tampered with.

So how had the vandal gotten in?

*   *   *

"If it's all right with you, I'll bring the crew back today to finish up the patio area. Otherwise they're between jobs and aren't getting paid," Jacob told me an hour later.

"It might take me longer to pay you back for the renovations." I rose, glancing around at what was left of my front room. Jacob had had his construction guys board up all the windows, not just the broken one. It made the space look sad and small. I sighed. "A lot longer."

"No rush." His tone was light, as if he really didn't care whether I ever coughed up the money or not. "Actually, I was thinking about your situation and wondering if you would mind keeping the doors closed a little while longer than you first planned."

Satisfied that the floor was glass free, I rose to tackle the graffiti on my display case. "Why?"

"Maybe what you need to do is a re-launch of the Bowtie Angel. I know it sounds like a gimmick, but if you announce it right away, it'll give the press something to chew on other than the food poisoning incident or the break-in."

"A re-launch sounds a little glitzy for Beaverton." I tried to picture Irma Getz and Mavis Humphries standing in line wearing evening gowns for pasta. Never mind what Pops and Aunt Cecily would think of the stunt. If they ever spoke to me again. "We're not exactly talking Manhattan elite here."

Jacob grabbed a rag and polished the other side of the display case. "Just consider it. I'm happy to help, and so is Lacey."

"I'm surprised Lacey isn't planning her own re-launch."

Jacob shrugged. "She enjoys her days by the pool more than she ever did cooking for the masses. If you want to go ahead with the re-launch, just let me know. It would be a good time to strike, after your performance on
Diced.
"

"As long as I don't kill one of the judges," I grumbled under my breath. We were already down one, and I wondered who Stu would get to replace Chad or if he and the rest of the producers would consider this on-location episode cursed. I still had to proceed with the investigation, find out who had been threatening Chad Tobey, and cook the best dishes of my life. My head began throbbing in time with my heartbeat. Too many questions and not enough answers.

"I think she's a goner," I whispered, looking down at the battered ice cream case. It was original to the building, a fixture from the time before my family opened a pasta shop. For over sixty years my family had been here, making pasta for the community. The thought of opening the doors and having no one show up to eat was too depressing, not to mention overwhelming on top of everything else. "Do you really think a re-launch would help save the pasta shop?"

"I don't know about saving it," Jacob warned. "But I've amassed a small fortune provoking people's curiosity, even in towns like Beaverton. You have the press standing in line out there waiting for a story. If you tell them the re-launch was planned all along, it will take attention off of the more negative aspects of what's happened. Use them to send the message you want sent."

"You mean, pretend I'm in control?" I snorted. "Nothing could be further from the truth."

"Ever hear the expression 'fake it till you make it'?"

That provoked a chuckle, surprising me. "Okay, I get it. They're still going to ask about the food poisoning though. How could I possibly put that in a good light?"

"It's not what happens to you, it's how you handle it," Jacob replied, his gaze steady. "Go out there with your head held high, and tell them that you are doing everything possible to get to the bottom of what happened here yesterday, that we've brought in professional help."

"And the break-in?" I raised a brow.

"Not your fault, the police are on it, at least no one else was hurt."

I stared at him, this evil genius who'd contributed half of my DNA. "I wish I'd known all this after the Flavor TV debacle."

Though I hadn't meant it as a criticism, Jacob seemed to take it as such. "I thought about coming forward then, but you were so beaten down over what had happened, and I didn't know if you could handle another blow."

I lifted my chin. "I'm a Buckland."

One side of his lips turned up in a charming half-smile. "And a Griffin, whether you want to admit it or not."

We stared at one another for a beat, neither of us knowing what to say.

I looked away first. "I should call Jones, let him know our plan of attack."

"I'll go get things settled with the contractors and tell the press you'll be making a statement shortly." Jacob rose but hesitated in the doorway. "I know you believe you have to choose between your grandfather and me. But you don't, it's not all black and white, good and bad. You get to have us both in your life, if you want us. Eugene will come around."

My teeth sank into my lower lip, and I turned away, not wanting to get into my personal life when my professional one was in tatters. I heard his footsteps retreating and sagged. He didn't get it, didn't understand how disloyal I felt to Pops every time I took something from Jacob.

Pops was a stubborn Southern gentleman. He wouldn't just get over three decades worth of animosity toward the man who'd abandoned his daughter and granddaughter. If it hadn't happened already, it wasn't about to change just because Jacob had shown up. And every time I accepted Jacob's assistance, it hurt my grandfather.

Your Nana would be so disappointed.
Aunt Cecily's words haunted me.

"Andy?" Mimi spoke softly from the kitchen. "I've finished the inventory, and nothing is missing. Actually, I found something that wasn't on the list."

"What's that?" I moved into the kitchen, leaving the sad front room and the ghosts it harbored.

"This container of dried mushrooms. I don't recognize them or the packaging. Did you order something special?"

I looked at the small cardboard container in her hand and slowly shook my head. "I've never seen them before. Where did you find them?"

"In the prep fridge." Mimi indicated the small refrigerator where we kept food that had already been prepared and waited to be served to our guests.

"I don't recognize the variety, do you?" I took the container to examine the fungus more closely. They were oddly shaped, not like cremini or oyster mushrooms, the only kinds I used regularly. I wasn't a mushroom fan myself, but several of our classic recipes called for them.

Mimi shook her head. "I don't."

"And they were in the prep fridge, not the walk-in?" I asked, a sneaking suspicion creeping over me.

She nodded. "That's why they stood out. I thought maybe someone was in a rush after the food poisoning and put them there by mistake."

"No, I packed up the kitchen myself, and Kyle took all the prepared food for testing." Mention of the food poisoning sent a chill through me, and I stared at the innocuous looking fungus. "Call the sheriff and tell him we found something that doesn't belong here. Wait, on second thought, I'll take care of it."

Mimi nodded, her eyes wide. "Do you think maybe they're poisonous?" She looked at her hands and then glanced at the sink as though contemplating washing them.

"Maybe." Kyle's cell was programmed into mine, and I placed the mushrooms on the counter. "Let's treat them as though they are, just in case."

The phone went directly to voicemail. "Kyle, it's Andy. I need to talk to you, so call me as soon as you get this." I hung up and said a very bad word.

"I'm surprised the sheriff wasn't here this morning. I expected him to come check on you, but he never did."

A chill went through me. I'd been too wrapped up to think about it, but Mimi was right. It was unlike Kyle not to at least poke his head in and make sure we were okay. It was possible he hadn't heard about the break-in, that he was busy on another matter of law enforcement, but he hadn't shown up at Jacob's the night before either. Those two uncharacteristic facts had me worried.

I headed into my office, Mimi hot on my heels. "I know I have the main number to the sheriff's office around here somewhere." The desk was a mess from my earlier searching, and I lifted a stack of file folders, hoping to find the contact sheet.

Mimi pitched in, but it took us a solid ten minutes to find the number. Jacob was right. I needed more systems in place, like numbers pasted by the phone. If this had been an emergency, we would have been out of luck.

I dialed the phone and waited while the front office picked up. "Hi, this is Andy Buckland. I'm trying to reach Sheriff Landers?"