Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) (20 page)

Judy laughed. “If you need help spending all that money, give me a call. I’m with you. I’d love not having to look at price tags for a change.”

“Hold on there. Where did you get the idea I’d allow
limitless
spending,” Toni said. “I’m not planning to go crazy. We’ll set a budget.”

I made an imaginary checkmark for the power of reverse psychology.

A strip mall came into view. Toni pointed to it. “I think that’s the place up ahead.”

I stared at the row of unattractive stores framed by two large office buildings. The only empty place I could see was a ground-floor space with wall-to-wall windows covered in graffiti. It didn’t look anything like the kind of location we wanted for our restaurant.

Toni pulled into the parking and we drove by the store slowly. She didn’t seem any more impressed than I was. “That’s got to be about three thousand square feet—way too big. We’d always look half empty.” She didn’t state the more obvious, that it was ugly as hell.

Judy piped in. “Not only that, but look at the shops around here. Dirty windows, peeling paint, filthy sidewalk. There is no way this area will attract the kind of clientele you want.”

Toni stepped on the gas and we headed back downtown, dropping Judy off at her hotel along the way. Not long after, we pulled up in front of my house.

“Would you like to come in?” I asked.

“We’re supposed to have dinner with Judy and Richard tonight. She didn’t mention it. I wonder if she forgot about it.” She pushed up the sleeve of her alpaca coat and looked at her watch. “I’d better give her a call. I’ll come in, but only for a minute.”

She followed me down the walk, brushing by to open the door for me. She hung up our coats and fumbled through her purse for her iPhone while I went to the kitchen and got a bottle of wine from the fridge, setting it on the counter.

“How about a glass of chardonnay?” I grabbed two glasses—as if I needed to ask.

“Sure,” she called back.

I leaned my crutches against the wall and hopped around on one foot, preparing a platter of nibbles. A minute later, Toni appeared in the doorway and caught me struggling to reach a high shelf.

She strode over, swatting me away. “What do you think you’re doing? Trying to break your other ankle?”

“I just wanted to reach that box of crackers.”

She didn’t even have to stretch—that was what five feet nine and four-inch heels would do. She placed a row of crackers alongside the cheese on the tray and carried it to the table. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“Why don’t you do the honors while you’re at it?” I asked, setting myself at the table.

She screwed the opener into the cork and pulled. It came out with a soft pop. She poured the wine and handed me a glass.

“Thanks. What did Judy say about dinner?”

“She said we should reschedule for tomorrow night instead. Thank goodness. I so don’t feel like smiling all evening and making nice with someone I don’t know.”

“That’s right, you haven’t met him yet.”

“No, but I’ve certainly heard a lot about him.” She said this with a tight mouth, making it clear she’d already made up her mind to not like the man.

“Are he and Judy having problems?”

“No, not at all. According to her, quite the opposite. Good heavens, how she goes on about him. Richard this and Richard that, how good-looking he is. And you know what I always say, when it sounds too good to be true, you’re about to get clobbered by a monkey wrench.”

“Nobody can slaughter a perfectly good saying like you do,” I said, chuckling.

She picked up the bottle and refreshed her glass. “Anyhow, all that gushing makes me suspicious.”

“Maybe she’s just in love.”

“Nobody can be that much in love after ten years of marriage.”

“You were.”

“And look what it got me.”

“But you’re back together now. And you’re happy, right?”

She didn’t answer, concentrating on cutting small precise pieces of Gorgonzola. She placed one on a cracker and popped it into her mouth. “That is good cheese. Do you have any walnuts?”

I nodded. “In the cupboard next to the fridge.”

She shook a bunch into a bowl and brought it back to the table. “I love walnuts with any blue cheese.” She fixed another cracker with cheese, this time adding half a walnut, and handed it to me. “Taste it.”

It was delicious but I couldn’t help noticing that she’d avoided my question. “You are still happy with Steven, aren’t you?”

Without missing a beat, she went right back to talking about Judy’s husband, giving me the distinct impression she was avoiding talking about Steven. “I know I shouldn’t judge him before I even meet him. But I can’t stand the way she snaps to attention whenever he calls. Even when we’re in the middle of something, she just drops everything and runs. One night we were at the Drake Hotel, and our drinks had just arrived when her cell phone rang. Well—you should have seen how fast she got out of there. It made me wonder if he might be abusive.”

“Surely you’re exaggerating.”

She shrugged, and some wine splashed out of her glass and onto the table. “I questioned her about him, in a roundabout way, of course, but the most she would admit is that he’s fastidious.” She looked around. “Where do you keep your dish towels?”

I pointed to the drawer. “That doesn’t mean anything, except that he’s probably a bit finicky.”

She got a towel and wiped the table. “Anyhow—” she dismissed the subject with a swish of her hand, “—she said she’d make reservations for tomorrow night. I told her you’d come. I can’t wait to find out what you think of him.”

I chuckled. “I’m definitely more open-minded than you are. You probably wouldn’t like him if he turned out to be Prince Charming himself.” I snatched another cracker and then struggled to my feet. “If we’re staying in, I might as well prepare us something to eat.” I rummaged through the freezer until I found a container of frozen soup and ran it under the hot-water tap.

Suddenly, Toni was at my elbow. “What are you doing?”

“I’m heating us up some soup—fasolada.”

“Fazoo...what?” she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she took the container from my hands and turned the block of frozen content into a pot. “I’ll do that for you. You go sit.” She turned on one of the burners and set it at low.

“Will you ask Steven to come along tomorrow night?”

“Of course, that’s the whole point of the dinner—to get everyone together. I guess I can’t put it off any longer. I have to tell him about Judy and Celia tonight.”

“You still haven’t told him? Why did you wait till now?”

“I wanted to, but...” She left her thought unfinished and sat. “I can sure use another drink.” She refilled the glasses, sliding one across the table to me, and raising hers. “What shall we drink to?”

“To you and Steven?” I suggested. “To hoping he likes Judy?”

She smiled crookedly. “How about we drink to the men in our lives? Here’s to hoping it’s not too late to fix them.”

“How do you want to fix Steven?”

“Sometimes that man sure can be difficult.” There was a pause before she added, “But he more than makes up for it in other ways.”

I laughed, but her comment did make me wonder about the state of her relationship. Did she really think Steven was difficult? That he needed fixing? We drank in silence, both thinking our own thoughts, mine being that for someone who was so notoriously open about her sex life, she became completely closemouthed when it came to her emotions. Go figure.

The house phone rang, startling us both. I leaned across, snatching the receiver. Behind me I could hear the soup beginning to simmer. I pointed to the pot and Toni jumped up and turned down the heat. I covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Jake.” To him I asked, “How’s Charles?”

“Not so good. He’s even more depressed since we came back. He won’t eat. He won’t do anything but come up with different theories about who killed Jennifer.”

“Who else does he suspect?”

“Atwood, of course, but he’s also making a case for Jennifer’s brother to have killed her.”

“Why would her brother have killer her?”

“Jennifer won the lottery a couple of months after leaving her ex—a couple of million, enough to pay for that house and still leave enough for a nice portfolio of investments.”

Ah, that explained the house.

“Her brother is an artist—a two-bit one, if you ask me,” Jake continued. “He’s been borrowing money from her nonstop. She cut him off financially a few weeks ago. Then, last Thursday, he called her again, begging for another loan. She’d already loaned him tens of thousands of dollars. She turned him down.”

“So Charles thinks her brother might have killed her for the inheritance?”

“He thinks he might have killed her out of anger.”

“Does he know the police think she was killed by mistake?” I knew Toni would not be pleased by what I was suggesting. I turned to her and mouthed, “I’ll explain.”

“I told him that, but he doesn’t believe it. Also, it seems Jennifer and her brother had a huge argument when she told him she was marrying Charles.”

“How do you know about that?” I asked.

“Charles told me. Why?”

I exhaled. “I was hoping someone else could testify to having overheard the argument. It would prove Charles was telling the truth, and that he and Jennifer were happy together.” At least until the argument the night of the murder. “But the problem is, that’s only hearsay and from someone who could eventually be a suspect himself. By the way, do you have any idea what Charles and Jennifer were arguing about that night?”

“Jennifer wanted to get pregnant, but Charles wanted to wait until he was more established financially. He didn’t want to live off her money.”

“I suppose a lot of men might feel that way,” I said.

“I guess,” he said. “Anyhow, Charles spoke to the police about Atwood. They said they would check on him.”

It suddenly became very important that Atwood be the killer. I would be safe. Toni would be safe. And we could all go on with our lives without worry...except Charles. He would still be without the woman he loved. “I wish there was something I could do for him.”

“Actually, that’s one of the reasons I called. Marley and I have been thinking. The best thing for Charles right now is to keep busy. He needs something to do, otherwise he’ll just be obsessing. But with the restaurant gone, he doesn’t even have a job anymore. Isn’t there some work you could ask him to do? Maybe you can get him to work on recipes, somewhere other than in his house. Right now everywhere he looks he sees Jennifer.”

“That’s a great idea. I’ll suggest he work out of my kitchen. Or, if he prefers he can work at Toni’s.” I glanced at her, wondering how she’d feel about that suggestion.

She strode over, snatching the phone from my hands. “I have a better idea,” she said without preamble. “Nicky and I found a possible new location for Skinny’s. If we can lease it for a reasonable price, we’ll want to reopen as soon as possible. We’ll need everyone’s help to make it happen.”

She handed me back the phone. I picked it up.

“—count on Marley and me,” Jake was saying. “And I’m sure Scott will pitch in too. If Charles isn’t up to working on recipes, I’ll make sure he gets involved somehow.” His voice lowered. “What about that lunatic? What if everybody’s wrong and she really is behind everything.”

“I haven’t a clue,” I said, chilled at the thought. “And there’s no point in worrying about it. I’ll call you the minute we know about the restaurant.” We said goodbye and hung up.

Toni had found the bowls and was ladling in the soup. “This smells divine.” She placed them on the table and added more crackers on the cheeseboard. “I take it Charles isn’t doing so well?”

I nodded. “Jake said the cops are looking at Atwood.” I pointed to the soup. “We need some feta cheese for garnish.”

Toni took some out of the refrigerator and plonked it on the table. “Did I hear you say something about Jennifer’s brother being a suspect?”

“That could just be Charles being paranoid, but he thinks the brother might have killed her because she refused to lend him money.” I repeated the conversation.

She nodded along. “It sounds to me like we have two likely suspects.”

I sprinkled a spoonful of feta on my soup. “This is the way it’s served in Greece. Try it. It’s delicious, you’ll see.”

She shrugged and followed suit. She sampled it and paused, savoring the flavor. She took a few more bites. “What’s in this soup? It’s delicious.”

“All healthy stuff—tons of vegetables, beans, olive oil, vegetable stock and my secret ingredient—honey.”

“Honey? In soup?” She looked down at her bowl and took another spoonful. “It sounds weird, but it’s delicious. It definitely goes on our menu the minute we reopen.”

This came out her mouth in such a firm tone that, it, more than anything, told me she was committed to reopening. I smiled to myself and casually said, “Good idea.” And then I changed the subject. “What do you think of getting Charles to start working on the burger? It’ll keep him busy until we know what’s happening.”