A Corpse in the Soup (17 page)

“Nah. I don’t know if the gofer...what’s his name, anyway...oh yeah, Chris Cross, was even here today. Kinda scrawny little guy, that one.”

“Some old cleaning people skedaddled out of there right before Romano flew through the door. Yes, Ma’am, just threw open the door and kinda flew in. Man, did he look mad.”

“Yeah, I saw the old folks, too. Not our regular crew. Never saw them here before. Maybe it’s a senior outreach program or something.”

By the time the questioning was done, it was determined that Candy left the Food Broadcasting studios before Romano, who, in a towering rage, had confronted Wellington about something. As one of the stagehands put it, for a few moments he turned from Dr. Jekyll into Mr. Hyde. Just a handful of people even remembered Chris Cross, let alone whether he had been in that morning.

“Malone.” The ice-cold investigator pointed to Neiderlander’s partner, who had recently arrived after receiving his spinal adjustment. “Get your tail over here.”

She handed him a scrap of notepaper with the gofer’s name on it. “You check this guy out. I’ll handle Romano and while you’re at it see if you can find those old cleaning people. Find out if they work for...” She glanced down to check her notes. “...Lopez Janitorial. The office manager can help me with the rest of these folks on my list.”

The crime scene was nearly secured. Lt. Adams drew herself up to her full height of five foot seven and glared at the assemblage. “Do not, and I mean DO NOT under any circumstances go beyond the yellow tape or touch anything. Officer Neiderlander will remain here till the techs are done to make sure my orders are carried out.”

As she went out to face the mass of reporters pressing against the locked doors, Lt. Adams heard him mutter, “Sure could use a double cappuccino.”

CHAPTER 31

Despite Wellington’s disappearance, everyone was in a jubilant mood. They were looking forward to the lavish party at the Four Seasons Hotel in celebration of Caesar’s victory. There was plenty of time for everyone to go back to Godiva’s estate, rest up a bit and then dress for the party.

As usual the streets and freeways were jammed with thousands of cars, but Godiva managed to clip along Sunset Boulevard at a comfortable speed with Caesar and Chili following right behind.

Godiva fussed with her hair as she drove. “Mom and Unk will sure get a kick out of dressing up and walking the red carpet. Torch will be the only one missing. Wouldn’t you know they would schedule him to work on that
Bionic Blasters
film in the middle of the desert just on Caesar’s big day? Jeez, it’s a hundred fifteen degrees out there! That can’t be good for him.”

Goldie tapped her sister’s arm with the program from the tournament. “Oh, don’t worry. Your kid would probably be happy living in a furnace.” She leaned forward and tried to fiddle with the complex radio console, poking first one then another button and jumping off her seat when the volume cranked sky high.

Godiva glared at her and turned it back down.

“Sorry, Sis. I’m not used to all of these digital doo-dads. I’m still turning little plastic knobs in my old Subaru, you know. I thought maybe we could find some news, see what they’re saying about the tournament.”

Godiva reached over once more and pressed a button.

A deep, masculine voice filled the car. “Now for some breaking news from Hollywood. The cooking world was dumbfounded when top contender, Aerobic Chef Biff Wellington, dropped out of today’s competition mere moments before the final round of the world’s fanciest cook-off. But, while the three remaining world famous chefs battled it out in the Kitchen Coliseum this afternoon, real mayhem was taking place just a few short miles away.

“We’ve just learned that Biff Wellington, odds-on favorite to win the
Gourmet Gladiator
Tournament, was found stabbed to death at the Food Broadcasting Studios here in Hollywood.”

Goldie and Godiva both gasped as the announcement continued.

“Unnamed witnesses claim his well-publicized battle with Romantic Chef, Caesar Romano, reached the boiling point this morning when the two chefs had a shouting match at the studio. Several hours later, with Wellington out of the way, Romano easily won his third consecutive victory as the Greatest Gourmet Gladiator. Hmmm? Keep tuned to this station for updates as new details are released.”

Goldie blinked and stammered. “Dead? Wellington is dead?”

Godiva sat rigid behind the wheel. Her knuckles were white. “Can you believe the audacity?” Her fury pulled Goldie out of her stupor. “It sounded to me like he was implying that Caesar was involved! Quick, my cell phone’s in my purse. Call him. Just push seven.”

Caesar’s cell phone rang in the car behind them. Chili plucked it off the console and answered. Goldie took a deep breath and sputtered, “Chili, this is Mom. Wellington’s been murdered! Quick, turn the radio to 1070 AM. They’re hinting that Caesar had something to do with it.”

“You’re kidding!” she squeaked.

Caesar broke in, “Who’s calling?”

“It’s my mom. Wel...Wellington’s been murdered. She heard it on the radio. They just found his body.”

“No shit! Do they know who did it?”

“Oh, Caesar, Mom says it sounds like they think it was you!”

Goldie blanched as she saw the chef’s car swerve a little in the side mirror.

Romano grabbed the phone from Chili, while steadying the car with his free hand. He shouted in Goldie’s ear, “What are they saying about me?”

“Turn on 1070. The reporter promised blow-by-blow updates as more news breaks. All I know is they found him at the studio. He was hinting that you had something to gain...oh, Caesar...”

Goldie heard a faint echo of the news station coming through the phone, and waited for Caesar to respond to the report.

“...the police have secured the scene. Motorists are advised to avoid the area around Sunset and Gower.” The news reports bombarded Goldie from both directions.

“...To recap this breaking news story, violent death claims a celebrity chef on his way to a coveted crown. Biff Wellington, forty-three, an icon of healthful cooking and exercise, was found murdered on his kitchen set at Food Broadcasting Studios today. The body was discovered only minutes after Chef Caesar Romano, his rival in a highly publicized battle, won the crown that Wellington might have claimed in today’s tournament. More details as they develop. This is Luis Ortega for your twenty-four hour news station 1070. And today in Iraq...”

Goldie turned around to look at Caesar’s car. She didn’t need to hear what he was saying. She could see him gesturing with one hand and turning red as he pulled up beside them at the next traffic light.

He shouted into the cell phone, “Looks like the bastard finally got what he deserved.” He wiped a hand over his face. “Goldie, tell Godiva there’s nothing to worry about and the party will go on according to schedule. I’ll say a few nice words about him while the cameras are rolling. Sort of a ‘fond’ farewell to a worthy adversary or something like that. It’ll sound good, I promise. And I might even mean some of it.”

The cars pulled through the gates one right after the other and came to a stop in the center of the circular driveway. Godiva flew out of her car and gave Caesar a gentle hug as he headed for the house.

Flossie and Sterling were standing in the doorway waving like the old folks on the
Beverly Hillbillies
. Goldie ran ahead to herd them into the living room while explaining the recent developments. Godiva took Caesar’s arm and led him across the foyer.

“Caesar, darling, I had Guadalupe hang your tux in the blue bedroom, at the top of the stairs. You can freshen up and change clothes there.” She slipped her arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale. You should try to lie down for a while and relax. Maybe you should think about canceling.”

Caesar’s shoulders sagged. “Well, I am pretty drained...but no, my fans will be expecting me and I refuse to disappoint them. Besides, if I don’t show tonight everyone will assume the worst.” He straightened up again and smiled confidently. Goldie could see it was just a thin facade.

Chili plopped down on one of the antique Chippendale side chairs. “I thought Rudy was just being a cranky old coot when he said Hollywood was wicked. Now I’m not so sure. First all that stuff happening to your show and now...” She shuddered. “...murder. I’ll bet Matsumoto and Jankowski are glad it’s over, even if they didn’t win.”

Godiva gave Caesar a gentle peck on the cheek and a pat on the butt as he started up the stairs. She looked at Goldie and raised an eyebrow.

Don’t mention poor old Edgar, not yet.

Goldie nodded.

The silver limo slid through traffic toward the Four Seasons Hotel. A long-standing argument between the neighboring cities of Los Angeles and Beverly Hills had them each claiming the famous hotel as their own. Technically it was in L.A., but still everyone referred to it as the Beverly Hills Four Seasons.

The doorman greeted the guests of honor. Five reporters thrust mikes at Caesar, resplendent in his beautifully tailored tuxedo.

Goldie watched as he urged his new assistant forward. Chili took her place by his side, striking a few red carpet poses in the shimmering antique beaded dress from the Silver Spoon.
When did my baby turn into such a babe? Glad I saved that gown for her.

Goldie and Godiva never dressed alike, but the day before the tournament, the twins decided to have some fun and zipped over to Neiman Marcus where they bought two red silk suits with matching accessories. Wearing their identical outfits tonight, even their mother and uncle could barely tell them apart.

Flossie, in a pale gray lace dress, resembled an aging duchess. Sterling looked almost professorial in his somewhat antiquated, but still stylish, tuxedo. While bulbs flashed and cameras rolled, Romano and Chili gave interviews to the hovering reporters. Caesar made it a point to include tasteful remarks about the late Biff Wellington. Then the entourage sailed into the elegant lobby. Caesar looked over his shoulder and seemed to be scanning the crowd.

Godiva asked, “Who are you looking for?”

Shrugging, Caesar answered, “I don’t know. Just a little jumpy, I guess.”

Lt. Crystal Adams had originally planned to speak to the suspect that night, but after thinking it over she decided to wait until morning. Better to catch him on his own turf than at a luxury hotel where reporters would be swarming, anxious to snap up any hint of scandal.

She settled into her comfortable Santa Monica condo for the night and watched the news coverage on TV. She studied Caesar’s handsome face when the camera zoomed in on him. He looked nervous and distracted. When she saw Sterling, the old vaudevillian, turn to smile and wave at the cameraman, she leaned forward. It struck her that the elderly cleaning guy described by witnesses probably looked pretty much like that professor or doctor or whatever he was.

She mumbled to herself, “Having a few bucks can really mean the difference between looking like a janitor or a gentleman.”

Flirting with Food
was her favorite cooking show and she often recorded it. After watching the news, Crystal decided to play the most recent tapes again. It was hard to believe that Chef Romano was her prime suspect. The violent threats flying back and forth between the chefs had simply seemed like promotional hype the first time around, but now they held real significance.

CHAPTER 32

“What? She said what?” Godiva tried to shake the sleep from her brain. “But...but...that can’t be. She can’t be serious, can she?”

Caesar’s cynical voice rumbled back at her through the phone line. “
Serious
would be an understatement, my dear.
Grim
would be a better choice of words. When a pretty police lieutenant arrives on your doorstep at seven thirty in the morning, it is definitely not a social call. And when she implies that you killed your arch rival, well, it kind of ruins your day.”

“Hold on, Caesar. Give me a minute to wake Goldie so we can both listen on the speakerphone. I want her to hear this, too.”

Two minutes later, Goldie jumped out of bed and followed her sister down the hall. Godiva never could understand how Goldie made instant transitions from foggy to alert.

“Okay, Caesar. We’re both here. Now, tell us what happened.”

“Well, I was in the kitchen getting a cup of coffee when the gate buzzer rang. I looked at the monitor to see what kind of fool would bug me at seven thirty in the morning and, surprise, there’s this policewoman,
la bella strega
, holding her badge to the camera. Lieutenant Crystal Adams, LAPD.”

Goldie broke in. “What did she want?”

“Turns out Lieutenant Adams is in charge of the Wellington murder case and said she just wanted to ask a few questions.”

“That sounds pretty normal, Caesar.” Goldie sounded upbeat and Godiva felt a flood of gratefulness that her sister was trying to comfort her new beau. “I’m sure they’re questioning everyone who came in contact with Biff Wellington yesterday. From what you said, you two had a bit of a, well, heated discussion. Look at the bright side, Caesar. She didn’t slap cuffs on you and read the Miranda, did she?”

“No, but she asked if I would prefer to get dressed right then and go down to the Hollywood station with her or arrange to come in later today. I suppose I sounded pretty flip when I asked if I should call my attorney. I expected her to say it wasn’t necessary.”

“You mean she didn’t say that?”

“I’m afraid not, ladies. She said it would be a very good idea to bring a lawyer. Then she spun on her heel and took off.”

Godiva suddenly became very businesslike. “Caesar, dear, do you have a good lawyer?”

“Thank you,
cara mia
. I do. Luckily I caught Oscar Goldensheim at home just as he was walking out the door.

“Oscar Goldensheim? What a coincidence. That’s the very person I was going to call for you.”