Turn Up the Heat (21 page)

“What other stuff do you take?”

“Just little stuff. Souvenir kinds of things. Cream pitchers, salt and pepper shakers. I’m not leaving restaurants with barstools or anything. I’m sure people take stuff from Simmer all the time. Josh’ll tell you that.” She looked at me doubtfully. “You’ve never taken anything in your life?”

“Apparently I’ve been missing out this whole time.”

“Are you mad at me?” Ade looked hurt.

“No, no, not at all,” I said honestly. “I just didn’t realize…I just didn’t know that people do it all the time. But I guess you’re right about it happening a lot.” It was certainly happening at Simmer.

As I continued filling the closet with purloined goods, I couldn’t help thinking that Adrianna needed a linen service as much as Simmer did! I smiled to myself but then, at the thought of linens, my mind turned in a serious direction: toward the apron-turned-murder-weapon that had been used on Leandra. Until today, I’d assumed that the murderer was someone with access to Simmer; that is, someone who had been inside the restaurant, grabbed an apron, strangled Leandra, put her body in the truck in the alley, gone back into Simmer, set the alarm, and locked up. But if everyone except me was pilfering everything, then Owen would have had no need to enter or leave Simmer on the night Leandra was murdered. Owen, who was often in Simmer, could have taken an apron anytime he pleased. He could have waited until Leandra left for the night and strangled her with an apron that was already in his truck. It was even possible that the apron thief had been Adrianna and that Owen had used one that she’d stolen!

“Chloe?”

“Ahhh!” I looked at Adrianna’s surprised face. “Sorry. You startled me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” I shook the growing panic out of my head. “What did you say?”

“I said, I hope Owen gets this account he’s meeting with today. This restaurant is actually one of three that the owners have, so he could get three new accounts!”

“I’m sure he’ll do great.”

“I hope so. You know how charming he can be. I bet he’ll be able to schmooze them into going with him.”

“Yeah, he is very charming,” I agreed.

Charming the way the DSM described certain pathological people as being charming? Charming meaning manipulative? What then popped into my head was the Psychopathy Checklist, a rating scale designed to measure the traits of people with psychopathic personality disorder. The first item was “Glibness/superficial charm.” Owen scored a two on that one, meaning “item definitely applies.”

“Are you done in there? Do you want to help push some furniture around in the living room?”

“Sure.” I started breaking down the boxes to clear some room. “Let’s get you guys set up!” I did my best to sound cheery.

The living room was small, but it had a beautiful bay window that overlooked the street and let light into the room. Once everything was unpacked, the visible floor space would make the room feel larger than it did now.

“Shit, what a disaster area this is!” Ade looked exasperated.

“Easy there, Mommy. You better start watching what you say,” I scolded her. “Are you gonna kiss your baby with that mouth?”

“Sorry. You’re right. But what else am I supposed to say about this chaos?”

My sister, Heather, learned the hard way to clean up her language when her son, Walker, spent six months exclaiming, “Son of a bitch!” at every mundane event. “Heather did it, and so can you,” I encouraged her.

“Great, you think I should be like Heather saying ‘Jeepers creepers!’ and ‘Mercy me!’ when the kid throws up on me? Or ‘Criminy! What a giant, disgusting poop you made!’”

It was true that Heather had resorted to expressions so old-fashioned that it was embarrassing to be caught in public with her. She said stuff like “Heavens to Betsy, that cab driver almost ran us over!” and “Goodness sake’s alive, what a bozo!”

“Just work on it, Ade. Okay, the first thing we should do is get all these boxes into the rooms they’re supposed to be in. Why don’t you take a breather, and I’ll do that.” I didn’t want pregnant Adrianna moving anything larger than a salad bowl. I made her sit down. “Give me ten minutes, and then we can move some furniture.”

I successfully pushed boxes down the hall into the bedroom but ran into problems in the galley kitchen, where the boxes were too wide to fit in at all. Ade started unpacking the kitchen boxes just outside the tiny area. Meanwhile, I shifted boxes from the living room into the hallway so we could arrange furniture in the living room before moving the boxes back.

Ade stood in a corner and directed me. “The couch should go here, in front of the window.” I heaved and pushed and prayed I wasn’t scratching the wood floors. So much for a security deposit. “And obviously the coffee table in front of it.” More pushing. “And this armchair facing the window. Then the TV stand can go here. I’ll let Owen hook up the whole sound system later.”

“See, this is better already,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow.

“I think Owen will like how we’ve set this up. I can’t wait until he gets home! I’m dying to hear about his meeting. It’s so nice that he’s finally found a regular job. Remember when he worked for that blimp company? But I really think the puppeteer was the worst. I thought I’d spend my life surrounded by freaky marionettes with wooden jaws. And at least this delivery job isn’t boring. You know how Owen isn’t a desk-job kind of person, and with the Daily Catch, he’s always on the move driving, delivering, talking with people. It’s really perfect for him.”

Another Psychopathy Checklist item: “Need for stimulation/proneness to boredom.”

Ade continued talking happily as she cut open a box of books. “Once he’s able to buy his own truck, his commission will increase, and all these big accounts will get even bigger!”

Owen already had his own truck! Another checklist item: “Pathological lying. Lack of realistic, long-term goals.” Owen was certainly lying about quite a bit these days. The debt he’d gotten himself into suggested that he was being completely unrealistic about the future. The DSM’s antisocial personality criteria included the “failure to conform to social norms.” Owen was one of the most nonconformist dressers I knew; he drove according to his own idiosyncratic traffic rules; and his odd career path, no matter how amusing, was hardly the steady work that the DSM and the checklist valued.

And what about Adrianna’s stealing? Was it as harmless as she thought? Hers was yet another name to add to the list of people Leandra might have witnessed taking Gavin’s possessions from Simmer. Leandra sounded like someone who’d have taken nasty delight in reporting even a single incident of thievery to Gavin. If she’d seen Ade making off with restaurant property, she might have threatened Owen with the knowledge.

Even worse, Leandra had worked in restaurants for quite a while and could easily have heard the gossip that Josh had passed along to me: that Owen had bought his truck and that he was lying about the quality and quantity of his seafood accounts. Leandra and Kevin, I remembered, had worked together somewhere. Digger and Lefty had both known her. She could easily have tapped into the restaurant grapevine. I was sure that Leandra would’ve enjoyed confronting Owen with what she knew and making him squirm. Because Owen was determined to provide for his new family, he would have interpreted her slightest taunts as major threats; and in a person with a psychopathic personality, the result might have been homicide. Owen, in a fit of protective rage, yanked out his stolen apron and choked the life out of Leandra!

Okay, I had my doubts. Still, I simply had to have a frank discussion with Owen about his recent behavior. Adrianna deserved better than lies, and Owen had to let her know what he had been up to. I’d worked hard at Adrianna’s, but I’d worked efficiently. Maybe it was still early enough in the day for me to get to Simmer before Owen made his delivery and to wait for him there.

In a crowded, public place with a host of witnesses.

SEVENTEEN

“ADE?
I’m sorry, but I just looked at the time, and I told Josh I’d meet him over at Simmer,” I lied. “Will you be okay now? We got a lot done, I think.”

“Absolutely. I’m fine. I feel better having put some of this stuff in place. Thanks for your help.”

I hugged Adrianna and left her to store her stolen cream pitchers and salt shakers. Lord knew what else she had hidden in those boxes! I ran home to get my car. On the way to the restaurant, I called Josh to see whether Owen had arrived with Simmer’s seafood.

“Nope. He’s late with his delivery. He was supposed to be here earlier, but he just called and said he’d be here within the hour.”

I contemplated the idea of warning Josh not to be alone with Owen but decided that there was no way Josh would take me seriously. “I want to talk to him,” I said. “If he gets there before I do, do you think you can stall him for a few minutes?”

“I guess so, but why don’t you just call him yourself and tell him to wait for you?”

“Because…” I stammered. “I just don’t want to. You might not want to be alone with him.”

“Why wouldn’t I—”

“I’ll be there soon.” I hung up.

By the time I got to Newbury Street, every legal parking spot was taken. I gave up trolling side streets and parked in an expensive lot. I scurried through tourists and shoppers to reach Simmer’s patio, where I immediately saw Naomi with her boyfriend, Eliot, and a beautiful young woman who was, I assumed, Kevin’s crush, Penelope. The three were seated at one of the outdoor tables. I had forgotten my promise to Naomi to stop by for lunch.

Naomi’s face lit up when she saw me. “Chloe! I’m so glad you can be with us. We’re having a wonderful lunch, and Josh even worked around my dietary needs to create an incredible salad.” She leapt from her seat to swaddle me in her usual hug. “Obviously you know Eliot, but I’d like you meet Penelope, his assistant at the gallery.”

“Hi, Eliot. Nice to see you.” I shook his hand. Eliot had the most bulging eyes I’d ever seen. His striking combination of bug eyes and frizzed-out hair evidently struck Naomi and me in rather different ways. In her gushy, New Age fashion, she was crazy about him. Penelope, on the other hand, had no peculiar features and was very pretty by anyone’s standards. Her straight brown hair was parted in the middle and fell softly to her shoulders. “Great to meet you, Penelope.” I smiled at her.

“You, too. Your boyfriend is an excellent chef. Eliot has brought me here quite a few times, and it’s always been just great.”

Naomi slipped something into my hand. I looked down to see that she’d given me a sample-size bottle with a label that read Intimate Oil with Nutmeg and Tangerine. I shuddered and dropped the gift into my purse. “Thanks.”

Blythe appeared at the table to clear the plates. “Hi, Chloe. Josh said you were coming by. You can go right into the kitchen if you’d like.” She turned to her customers. “Can I get you some dessert and coffee?”

I quickly apologized to Naomi. “I have to go see Josh, but I’ll try to come sit down after.” I rushed off before anyone could protest. I was just about to push open the door to Simmer’s interior when Kevin opened it for me, said hello, and eagerly moved past me to Penelope’s table. For his sake, I hoped that she returned his crush.

Simmer’s dining room was almost empty. It was nearly three o’clock: the lunch rush was over. When I found Josh in the kitchen, he immediately shot me a quizzical look.

“What was your phone call all about? Why shouldn’t I be alone with Owen?” Then his mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Chloe, don’t even try to tell me that you think he has something to do with Leandra’s murder!”

“Okay, just listen! I know it sounds crazy,” I agreed. I pulled Josh into the office, dropped my purse onto a chair, and explained my two theories. Josh dismissed the first one: he thought that it was unlikely that Leandra had known anything about Owen’s lying binge. Then I moved on to the second theory. I began by describing the things that Adrianna had taken from hotels and restaurants, and I went on to point out Owen’s possible motive for killing Leandra: she could have threatened to report Adrianna to Gavin or, worse, to the police. “Owen or Ade,” I said, “could have swiped an apron from Simmer. And then Owen used it to strangle Leandra!”

Josh laughed uncontrollably for a few moments before he pulled me close to him and rubbed my back. “You are so funny. I love that you are innocent enough to think that this stealing business is so alarming. It’s totally normal in restaurants and any hospitality industry, really. Blythe and Snacker even said so the other night. Besides, this software that Gavin is making everyone use makes it impossible to keep track of the inventory anyway. It’s practically an invitation to people to take whatever they want.”

I pulled far enough away from Josh to look up at his face. “Listen to this. Blythe is stealing from the kitchen and selling things on eBay. I know because Adrianna made a bid and won a peacoat, and the seller turned out to be Blythe, who is also listing some of the things that you realized were missing the other day. The mandoline, the stick blender, and the Wüsthof knife. Oh, by the way, you better check your knife collection. She’s selling
two
.”

“Jesus Christ!” Josh said angrily. “I’ll deal with her later. But I bet Leandra was doing the same thing. Call it a gut feeling, but this has her name written all over it. Either way, no one rats on anyone else around here, because everyone is doing it. You think I’m going to tell Gavin that Snacker took a bunch of chicken to make tamales? Actually, the only person around here who isn’t stealing shit is probably Isabelle. But that’s only because she hasn’t been in the industry long enough to know we all do it. So there. You think that makes her a suspect? Because she’s the only one not stealing?” He winked at me.

“Well, Isabelle obviously idolizes Gavin and didn’t think Leandra was good enough for him, so maybe she told Gavin about Leandra, hoping that he’d feel so betrayed that he’d dump her.” I paused. “But instead of just feeling betrayed, he killed her!”

“Are you done with this nonsense? Gavin may have some quirks, but he didn’t kill Leandra.” Josh leaned out of the office. “Santos! Take the bread out of the oven, will ya?”