Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Andy’s in the clear!” Jayne burst into the Emporium shortly before closing at six, still in her apron and hairnet. Despite having turned on the ovens in the tearoom kitchen at four this morning, she was still hard at work, trying to get extra prep done and the freezer filled before she left for her honeymoon.

  She threw her arms into the air. “His alibi came through.” She did a little dance. Moriarty wandered over to see what the excitement was, and she swept him up. She planted kisses all over his face. Moriarty likes Jayne just fine, but he didn’t seem all that pleased at being held so tightly and he squirmed in her arms. She put him down.

  I flipped the sign on the door to Closed. “What happened?”

  “Kyle turned his phone on at last. He and his wife are getting divorced, and I gather it’s not going to be pleasant. He had a few days off work and wanted to get away. He rented a little beach cabin up by Provincetown. He turned his phone off because he didn’t want to talk to his wife’s lawyer, and he was afraid if they called, he’d answer and start yelling. Which wouldn’t have done him any good, so better turn the thing off. When he finally switched it back on, he had exactly zero messages from the lawyer, several from Andy, and whole lot from the WLPD.”

  “He alibied Andy then?”

  “He headed straight to the police station. Gave his statement, and Detective Estrada phoned Andy a few minutes ago to say that as far as she’s concerned, the alibi is solid.”

  “That is good, Jayne. I don’t suppose she came right out and said he was in the clear?”

  The smile drooped a fraction. “No, but she isn’t going to commit to anything, is she?”

  “She is not. For now, that’s good enough for me. Is Andy ready to open tonight?”

  “Ready and raring to go, and already open. They opened at five, and the reservation book is almost full for the next couple of days. It helped that Irene spread the word so widely.”

  “Feel like joining me for dinner tonight?”

  “Why?”

  “My thoughts on this business are starting to coalesce. I’d like to talk to Andy, if he can find a minute. I’m also hungry.”

  She grinned at me. “Give me half an hour to finish up what I’ve got in the oven.”

  “I’ll try and get us a reservation.”

  “Mention my name.” She gave me a broad wink. “I have influence.”

  Jayne skipped happily away, and I called Ryan.

  “Dinner with Jayne and me tonight? I thought we could go to the Café, offer our support to Andy. My treat.”

  “Sounds good, Gemma, but I’ll have to say no. I have something on tonight, not because I don’t want to be seen offering any support to Andy. Did you hear his alibi came forward?”

  “He told Jayne, and Jayne told me.”

  “Louise is happy with it. Helps she knows Kyle from the boxing club and—”

  “Louise boxes?”

  “You didn’t know that?”

  “Obviously an oversight on my part.” I summoned up a mental image of the detective: tall, slim, extremely fit, high-energy. In a serious case of gender stereotyping, without thinking about it, I assumed she ran and worked out at an ordinary gym. I’d not make that error again.

  “She knows Kyle and knows him to be reliable,” Ryan said, “but alibis can be faked or innocently misinterpreted. Unfortunately, until we wrap this up, Andy will still be in the corner of our eye.”

  “How close are you to wrapping this up?”

  “Not as close as I might like, and that’s all I’m saying. Main reason I can’t have dinner with you, much as I’d like to, is my dad’s receiving an honor tonight from his service club, and I told him some time ago I’d take Mom.”

  “You’d get a better dinner at the Café.”

  He groaned. “Don’t I know it? Speaking of wrapping this up, have you come up with anything?”

  “Since I last saw you a couple of hours ago? Perhaps, and too early to say for sure. I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Have fun tonight. Give your dad my congratulations.” I hung up before he could ask what was too early for me to say.

  Instead of trying to make a reservation online and risk being told nothing was available, I called the Blue Water Café. When I told the young woman who answered I wanted a table for Jayne and me, she said they’d squeeze me in. If we came soon.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The place was hopping. The queue spilled out the door, and the hostess was telling those who arrived without reservations how long they’d have to wait until a table came free. We edged ourselves past the envious would-be diners. The hostess recognized us and we were immediately shown to our table. For the briefest of moments, I wondered what it must be like to be a celebrity. To always be whisked past the waiting hoi polloi, escorted to the best seats, served the best the venue had to offer, wined and dined. No wonder Bunny missed it sometimes.

  Not one of the best seats in the house by far, we were given a small table for two in the back of the main room close to the corridor leading to the washrooms, office, and kitchen.

  “Can I tell Andy you’re here?” the hostess asked as she arranged menus in front of us.

  “Go ahead,” Jayne said. “Thanks.”

  The hostess slipped away.

  “I’m thrilled so many people came tonight,” Jayne said. “It’ll mean the world to Andy to see how much support he has in the community.”

  “Hey, Jayne, Gemma.” A smiling waitress flipped our water glasses over and filled them. She’d worked for Andy as long as I’ve been coming here. “Nice to see you. Can I get you something to drink?”

  After we ordered, I said, “It must have been a big relief to you when Andy opened again so quickly.”

  “Gosh, yes. I don’t know what I’d have done if I lost my job here. It’s a long time until the season starts up again.”

  “Did you know Robbie Ellis? The part-time waiter who died the other night?”

  “No. Our paths never crossed. He only did a few shifts, and I was off a good part of December with my back.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Time off did me good and I’m on the mend. I’ll get those drinks.”

  She left. Jayne and I picked up our menus. “The seafood curry is excellent,” I said.

  “How do you know that? First time I’ve seen it.”

  “I was lucky enough to have been given a sneak peek—or, I suppose I should say, sneak taste—when the chef himself was developing the recipe.”

  “Are you going to have it? You always have the stuffed sole.”

  “I believe I will. Live life on the edge, try new and unexpected things. Experiment with exciting flavors and textures. Shake things up.”

  Jayne snorted. “It might be good, but I’m not in the mood for spicy. I’ll have the fettuccine.”

  “I gave Ashleigh a raise today,” I said. “And I threw in an extra couple of days’ annual vacation.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Jayne said. “If I may be so bold, she does a lot for you, and you can’t be the easiest boss to work for.”

  I contemplated that for a moment. “I think I’m easy.”

  “When you’re there, yes. But you do have a tendency to not be entirely focused on business matters at all times.”

  I couldn’t argue with that, so I didn’t.

  The waitress returned with our bottle of wine and two glasses. She set the cooler next to the table, opened the bottle, and poured a small serving for me. I tasted it, said it was excellent,

  Before she could fill our glasses, the bottle was whisked out of her hands. She gave Andy a grin and left us.

  “Madams.” He tucked one arm behind his back, swooped low, and poured the wine. He was dressed in his chef’s uniform of gray checked trousers and white jacket, with “Andy” printed across the breast pocket in script. His face was red with the residue of heat from the ovens, and his hair rumpled.

  Jayne and I laughed. He leaned over and gave Jayne a peck on the cheek. Her smile in return was radiant.

  As was his. I almost got up and left to give them a private moment.

  Instead, Andy said, “Nice to see you two. Sorry I can’t join you, but we have a full house tonight; one of the assistant cooks found another job when I was closed, not giving me enough time to find a replacement; and I’m trying to work around some major supply problems. No arugula in the salad tonight.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” Jayne said. “You get back to it, then. Arugula or not, we’re looking forward to our meal. Gemma’s going to live life to the fullest and have the curry.”

  Andy grinned at me. “Only,” I said, “because I already know it’s good. Do you mind if I have a quiet word, Andy? Won’t take long and I can come into the kitchen if you have to get back.”

  He glanced at Jayne who shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “But not too long, please. It’s a madhouse in there tonight and only going to get worse.”

  Madhouse, to a noncook, was right. Pots bubbled, flames flared, knives flashed, cooks yelled, waiters yelled back.

  “What’s up?” Andy asked as he picked up a deadly sharp knife. It reminded me of the one that killed Robbie, although this one was longer, thinner, and considerably sharper. Robbie had been stabbed with a chef’s knife, the detectives said, but not expensive and not unusual. Not from a restaurant like this one, then.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Andy said to Martin, his sous-chef. “See to that chowder.”

  “Yes, Chef.” Martin gave me a look but said nothing as he went to the stove.

  Andy’s knife slashed and onions fell apart. “So, Gemma, what’s up?”

  “George Friedman. Did you know he’s interested in opening a restaurant in West London?”

  “George is always talking about opening a new place. Nothing comes of it. Years ago, he started three restaurants with money he inherited from an uncle, I think. Since then, nothing new, and only two remain.”

  “How are his places doing? Bunny went out with him the other night, and she said they were swanky.”

  “That’s one word for it,” Martin laughed.

  “Dated is another word,” Andy said. “Red banquettes, steak with bearnaise sauce, surf and turf. He does okay, but not much more than okay. Why do you ask?”

  “He wants Bunny to invest.”

  “I didn’t know Bunny had that kind of money.”

  “She doesn’t. Which is why I’m asking around.”

  “I’m not going to comment on the guy’s business plans, Gemma. I don’t know enough.” Andy shoved the chopped onions aside and reached for a bowl of fat red tomatoes.

  “Fair enough.” I was standing close to the stove. The contents of the soup pot simmered on one hob, onions were caramelizing on another, and my curry bubbled happily on another. Further down the line, flames leapt up from the grill as a thick steak was thrown onto it. I was getting very warm.

  “Where’s that bruschetta?” a waiter asked.

  “On it.” Andy chopped furiously. “Someone get me those herbs. Martin, that steak’s on the verge of being overdone.”

  “It is not,” Martin replied. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Not so as I’d notice.” Andy grabbed a handful of herbs. Behind his back, Martin threw him a furious glare before turning his attention to the steak. Andy mumbled something under his breath that might have been “He’s gotta go.” I assumed he was referring to Martin.

  “I have one quick question before I get out of your way,” I said. “Have you had any thoughts of taking George on as a partner in this place?”

  Andy stopped chopping and looked up. “Why on earth would I do that? I told you I’m struggling, Gemma, but no more than’s normal in this business. I hope you’re not implying otherwise.”

  “I am not,” I said. “Bunny said something about it.”

  He went back to his tomatoes and herbs. “And we know how reliable Bunny is about these things.”

  “This Bunny,” Martin said to me. “Would that be Bunny Leigh, the pop star? My mom talks about her all the time. Is she a friend of yours? Looking for a good investment opportunity?”

  “Always looking,” I said as I made my retreat, almost colliding with a waiter picking up huge bowls of clam chowder.

  I found Jayne tapping on her phone and sipping her wine. She looked up with a smile. “Mom, asking about the place cards. You did get them done, didn’t you, Gemma?”

  “Uh … yes. Let me confirm that.”

  I texted Ashleigh: What’s happening with J’s place cards?

  Ashleigh responded right away: On your desk. Told you that!

  “All done,” I said to Jayne. “I’ll give them to you tomorrow.”

  “Not me. Call Mom to come and pick them up. You didn’t do them yourself, did you?”

  “I outsourced the project like the efficient manager I am.”

  “Long as they get done on time and within budget. You did remember my budget, didn’t you, Gemma?”

  “I’ll cover the extra costs of the outsourcing,” I said.

  Jayne shook her head. She sipped her wine. “So, what did you want to talk to Andy about not in my hearing?”

  “I wouldn’t say not in your hearing, but more I didn’t want to interrupt his work. That kitchen environment is not conducive to a good conversation.”

  “All these years watching me work and you’ve only just realized that?”

  “You don’t have as much hot stuff on the go all at the same time. No open fires. And the way they wield those knives! I’m surprised chefs still have all their fingers.”

  “Years of training and practice, Gemma. So talk to me. What’s bothering you? Robbie’s death? I can’t help but think about it all the time. I know you didn’t like him, Gemma, and I’ll admit that toward the end of our relationship, I didn’t like him all that much either. But we did have some good times together; things just didn’t work out for him the way he hoped, and it made him bitter. I’ve heard nothing more about Tina either, by which I assume the police haven’t arrested anyone.”

  “No, they haven’t. Not for either case.”

  “Do you think they’re related?”

  “I do. One way or another.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’m still not entirely convinced Tina’s death was a murder. Robbie’s obviously was. Has Andy ever said anything to you about possibly going into partnership with George Friedman?”

  “Heavens, no. Andy’s not looking for a partner. In other things in life, Andy’s pretty laid back, easygoing. When it comes to this place, he’s a control freak. He’d never take on a partner. Not willingly, anyway.” She peered at me over the rim of her glass. “Unwillingly, is that what you’re getting at, Gemma?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Curry and the fettuccine.” The waitress, a long pepper mill tucked under her arm, put the plates in front of us. My dish smelled absolutely fantastic. She pulled the pepper mill out and flourished it. Jayne said, “Please,” but I refused; when I’d tried Andy’s sample the other day, the curry had been perfectly seasoned. Tonight, it came served in a low, wide white bowl over rice. Green herbs were liberally sprinkled across the top, with thin slices of banana arranged on the side.

  “What’s the banana for?” Jayne asked.

  “In England, curry often comes with plenty of accompaniments. Banana’s one of the most common. Cuts the heat beautifully.” We dug into our meals and didn’t speak for several minutes.

  “My working theory,” I said through pleasantly burning lips, “is that Robbie knew who killed Tina, or thought he did, and attempted to blackmail that person. Said person then killed Robbie.”

  “You just said you don’t think anyone killed Tina.”

  “I have to explore all options until I am fully confident of the facts.”

  “Fair enough. But blackmail? Would Robbie do something like that?”

  I put down my fork and looked into her face. “I’m sorry to say it, but yes, Jayne, he would. On at least one occasion, when he was living in New York, he attempted to blackmail someone. I only know about it because she went to the police, so it’s on record. Did he do the same with more success on other occasions? I can’t say.”

  Jayne dipped her head. “Poor Robbie. Poor woman. Poor Tina. If that’s the case, the origins of the crime are with Tina’s death. Robbie’s was just incidental. If you want to call it that.”

  I’d had about half of my curry and it was excellent, but I pushed my plate aside. “Finish up, Jayne. Chop chop. Good thing I didn’t even have so much as a full glass of wine. I can drive.”

  “What? Now? Drive where?”

  “I have questions, and it’s time to get answers.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jayne flagged down the waitress and asked her to pack up the rest of her fettuccine to go. The waitress nodded at my unfinished curry and Jayne said, “Might as well pack up that one too. And the bill, please.”

  “No charge. It’s on Andy.”

  “I’ll get the car,” I said. “It’s still at the shop. Meet me out front in a few minutes.”

  By the time I sprinted up the street and into the alley behind the Emporium, jumped into the car, joined the suddenly slow-moving traffic crawling east on Baker Street, and pulled up in front of the Blue Water Café, Jayne was waiting for me. She was wrapped in her coat and scarf and holding two takeaway containers in her mittened hands.

  She got into the Miata, placed the food at her feet, and did up her seat belt. I drove away. Behind me, brakes squealed and the driver of an approaching car leaned on his horn. I ignored it. Not my fault if they weren’t watching for incoming traffic.

  “The dogs are going to be beyond excited next time they get into the car,” I said as I attempted to stick, within reason, to the speed limit on Harbor Road. “Those scents will drive them nuts.”

  “My head is spinning. Gemma. Where are we going, and why are we in such a rush to get there?”

  “Your wedding is the day after tomorrow, right?”

  “I hope you’re not needing to be reminded.”

  “I am not. Simply refreshing my memory. If I’m to arrive at a conclusion of this case, I have to do it now. I don’t want any trace of it hanging over you and Andy.”