A Fishy Dish (A Hooked & Cooked Cozy Mystery Series Book 3) (18 page)

Meg shrugged. “I don’t know if he’s my type. He works all the time.”

Hannah chuckled. “Right, and you don’t, of course.”

“Yeah, you do have a point, but his hours are early in the morning, and by the time I’m finished up here, he’s ready to get to bed. And with this whole Chowder House problem, he’s spending every spare moment trying to drum up new customers to take up the slack from losing that business.” Meg wiped her hands on her apron. “I guess the best description is that I’m lukewarm about our chances.”

Hannah thought Meg was being very realistic about a possible relationship with Jerry. “I hope he does come with Chef Belair. Jerry was at the restaurant, too, and maybe he can remember something else that happened that night. I wonder if he saw Sally go inside. Someone told Deputy Larson that detail and Sally admitted as much once she was confronted by Pam.”

“Do you think
Sally
killed Gavin?”

“She said she saw her father go inside. It could be either of them. Or Chef Belair. With the body in the freezer, someone could have gone into the kitchen and not even known there had just been a murder, I suppose.”

Meg’s body shivered. “Too awful to think about.”

“Anyone here?”

“In the kitchen, Cal.” Hannah smiled and quickly pushed a few stray hairs behind her ear. “Good thing he prefers the natural, working girl look,” she whispered to Meg.

“That’s for sure.” Meg took the dishtowel from Hannah. “You go sit outside with Cal. I’ll finish up in here.”

Hannah carried a cold lemonade outside for Cal. “Thirsty?” she asked as she put the drink in front of him.

“Parched. I worked straight through while Ruby and Olivia were gone. It’s so much easier when no one is there to distract me.” He gulped half the lemonade before he set the bottle down.

“Everything’s going along smoothly?”

He nodded. Wiped his mouth. “Pretty much. I should be done soon. She’ll have double the space when the renovations are done with the new second floor. She turned a run-of-the-mill ranch into a typical Cape Cod style house with a porch and view of the ocean. She was lucky to snap that property up when it went on the market a few months ago.”

“And I’m lucky, too, otherwise I’d be sharing my small cottage with my sister and her daughter. Don’t get me wrong, I love them both to pieces but—”

Cal laughed. “You two could never live together. You’re close enough with Jack’s house in between. See, that’s why I like living on my boat, no space for a relative to even
dream
of moving in.”

“Your boat is so cozy. Everything you need in its place and basically at your fingertips.” What she left unsaid was that
she’d
like to be at his fingertips a bit more often.

“Hmmm. Just so you know, there’s always room for you.”

Hannah felt Cal’s knees press against her own under the table. She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Samantha slid in next to Hannah. “Your niece sure can do a number on an ice cream cone. I don’t know where she puts all that stuff in her little body.”

Hannah tapped Samantha’s cheek. “Looks like you put some away, too. Chocolate?”

“Chocolate peanut butter. Delicious. Just like a frozen peanut butter cup. Hey, you should add an ice cream window to The Fishy Dish.”

“So you wouldn’t have to drive into town. Like, ever?” Hannah teased.

“It’s a great idea,” Cal said. He stared at the front of the snack bar. “If you open up another five feet over there on the left side of the counter,” he pointed, “you could have a window for the ice cream with room inside for a chest freezer. It would all fit without being in the way at all.”

“I get it,” Hannah said. “You’re almost done at my sister’s house and you need to line up another job.”

“That too. But it
is
a great idea. Ocean view, sandy beach, fried fish, and end it all with a delicious variety of ice cream choices? Who could resist?”

“I’ll run it by Meg and see what she thinks,” Hannah said. “But now I’m expecting someone.” She stood.

“Oh?” Cal asked.

She leaned close to Cal and Samantha. “Chef Belair is stopping by. He
thinks
Meg needs his expert opinion on her cooking but she tricked him into coming so I can ask him what he remembers from the night Gavin was murdered. I want to know if he saw Sally or Matt White in the kitchen of The Chowder House. They were both there, but
when
is the question.”

“I’ll have your back,” Samantha said as she patted her big canvas tote. “You never know. The police took Chef Belair in for questioning the night of the murder but released him. Maybe they missed something important.”

“Well, if he’s the murderer, I don’t think he’ll try to kill me out in the open like this. But I’d love to have your opinion since you are so good with body language.”

“Yeah, like when I joined the two of you, your body language was telling me you wished you could follow Cal to his boat and have some alone time.”

Hannah felt her cheeks burn.

Cal choked down his laughter.

Samantha grinned. “I’m good, right?” She jostled Hannah with her elbow. “Your face tells the whole story, my dear.”

Cal stood up. “I’ll be back for something to eat when I’m done at Ruby’s house. I only have a couple of pieces of trim to finish up. It won’t take long.”

Hannah blew him a kiss.

A small dark green sports car with the top down pulled in next to Samantha’s blue Mini Cooper. Chef Belair’s thick mop of windblown hair was visible above his aviator sunglasses. He pulled the visor down and combed his hair back into perfect order before unfolding his body from the low car.

“Ooh la la,” Samantha said. “He’s quite the Frenchy dish.”

“Ladies,” Chef Belair said with a swoop of his arm and a shallow bow. “I’m looking for Ms. Meg, the chef at this,” he looked around at the small building that housed The Fishy Dish, “establishment. She has requested my expertise.”

“I could use a little of your expertise,” Samantha gushed. She entwined her arm in his. “Come with me.”

He planted his feet in the sand. “Maybe you misunderstood. She needs help in the
kitchen
.”

“You cook too? Sounds like you’re the perfect combination. Come on, my dear, I’ll show you what I’m an expert at, too.” Samantha tugged on Chef Belair’s arm but couldn’t budge him.

Hannah enjoyed the show but decided to come to his rescue. After all, she also wanted his expertise, but in a completely different area. “I’m Hannah Holiday, and this fine establishment belongs to me. Could I bother you with a question?”

Samantha dropped his arm and patted his behind. “Don’t be shy; have a seat.”

Chef Belair took a white handkerchief from his pocket and laid it on the picnic table bench before he sat down.

Hannah rolled her eyes.
Really?
He must wonder why he ever decided to submit himself to this uncivilized spot.

“Your question, Ms. Hannah Holiday?” Chef Belair sat with a ramrod straight back and a patient look on his face.

“What happened Thursday night after you and Gavin Abbott argued in the dining room in front of everyone? What happened when the two of you went into the kitchen?”

Chef Belair abruptly stood. “Is this an inquisition? I came here at the request of Jerry Sewall to do a favor for the woman he has his eye on. A request to help her with her chowder recipe.”

“Sorry, honey,” Samantha said. “Meg’s not in need of any instruction from you. It’s all over town that your fish is, hands down, inedible.”

The chef’s mouth dropped open.

Hannah glared at Samantha and pulled her thumb and first finger across her lips in a sign to keep her mouth zipped.

She grabbed the chef’s arm, getting his attention back to her. “Wait. This is important. You followed Gavin into the kitchen. Did you argue? Did you fight?”

“Young lady. I packed up my knives and walked right out the back door without a word to that awful man. Jerry was there to make a delivery and I had several words with him. I’ve explained all this to the police.”

“You didn’t see anyone else?”

“I did see someone slip behind the dumpster, maybe Sally White, I’m not positive. I was so angry I didn’t even pay attention. And I also didn’t notice that I left one of my knives behind.”

“The murder weapon?” Hannah asked in a rush of words.

“Apparently. The police have refused to return it to me. My knife set will never be the same. Now, where can I find Ms. Meg?”

“Did you hear that?” Hannah asked Samantha after Chef Belair walked inside The Fishy Dish to look for Meg. “He saw Sally
and
he left his knife behind. Did he leave it after he stuck it in Gavin Abbott’s chest?”

Chapter 21

Jerry Sewall’s truck pulled into the parking lot of The Fishy Dish, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“It’s certainly busy around here,” Samantha told Hannah.

“Good timing.” Hannah walked toward Jerry. “I want to catch Jerry before he goes inside with Chef Belair and Meg. Jerry,” Hannah called. “How’s everything?”

Jerry jumped out of his truck. “I’m looking for Meg. She asked me to set up a meeting with Chef Belair. I should go inside and find them.”

“Sure, but hold on a minute. I just talked with Chef Belair.” Hannah held Jerry’s arm. “I’m wondering—”

“About what?” Jerry interrupted, rather rudely.

Hannah shrugged. “Who he saw going in or out of the kitchen of The Chowder House Thursday night.”

“Why? What difference does it make to you? We’ve both been grilled by the police.”

“Yeah, but now that Sally’s turned up, I’m worried about her. She thinks she might have seen the murderer go into the kitchen when she was hiding behind The Chowder House Thursday night. Did you see anyone besides Chef Belair that night?”

“Sally? She’s safe? I hadn’t heard.” Jerry’s face drained of color.

“Leah didn’t call you?” Hannah remembered that she saw calls between Leah’s and Jerry’s phones the night of the vigil.

“Um, no. Why should she?” Jerry stopped walking and stared at Hannah.

“I don’t know, except that when I found Leah’s phone there were calls to you. I thought that maybe the two of you were good friends. You know,” Hannah shrugged, “someone she could confide in since Matt is so distracted.”

“Oh, yeah, the night of the vigil. Before I found her on the green I wanted to make sure she was okay, so I called. We played a little phone tag before we connected.” He flicked his wrist dismissively. “We’re friends but she hasn’t called me about Sally.” Jerry scratched his head. “Sally was at the restaurant?”

“That’s what she claims, and Chef Belair thought he saw her hiding behind the dumpster.”

“Huh, I didn’t see her, just Chef Belair. And a woman I didn’t recognize walking in the direction of my truck, but she turned around and left. Oh yeah, and a squirmy little guy, kind of annoying.”

“That must have been the reporter, Sean Payne.”

“I don’t remember him telling me his name.” Jerry continued walking toward The Fishy Dish.

Hannah jogged to keep pace with him. “So, you were there to make a delivery?”

“Yeah, but after Chef Belair told me he was fired, I decided not to leave anything. It was a hard decision, but I decided my chances were better to find other buyers than risk having Gavin not pay me if his business went down the drain without a chef.”

“And how’s that working out for you? I know I took a few boxes of frozen haddock, but I’m sure that barely put a dent in the quantity that Gavin would have ordered.”

Jerry grimaced. “Not great. Can you use any more yet?”

“Let’s talk to Meg. Maybe we can help you out.”

They walked together into The Fishy Dish kitchen. Hannah pinched her lips together to keep from laughing as she watched Chef Belair wave his arms around as he instructed Meg in the fine art of dicing potatoes for her clam chowder.

“. . . and the secret is to have each cube of potato be
exactly
,” he held his thumb and index finger about a half inch apart, “the same size so they all cook to the same tenderness. Got it, Ms. Meg?”

Meg turned around and smiled broadly at Hannah. “Oh wonderful. My expert potato dicer just walked in.” She held her arms out and waited to embrace Hannah. The embrace turned into more of a painful squeeze. “Come on over here so Chef Belair can explain his dicing technique to you.”

“Yes, Ms. Hannah Holiday, this is so important.” He bent over the maple counter and demonstrated his technique.

“Interesting, and your knife is very unusual. May I see it?” Hannah asked.

“Certainly.” He turned it around and extended the handle end toward Hannah. “It is part of my set. The set with the missing knife. I’m
heart
broken.”

Hannah took the knife. “The police will return it eventually, won’t they?”

“I suppose so, but
when
is the question. I don’t know if I’m staying here or going home to France. This Hooks Harbor, I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like home to me. The Chowder House has a bad reputation now. It’s cursed. I’m not sure that even I, with all my talent, would be able to turn it around into a successful seafood establishment.” He shook his head as if completely defeated.