Kee Patterbee - Hannah Starvling 01 - The Chef at the Water's Edge (24 page)

As Hannah and Hym headed back into Zebulon, they had the ‘discussion’ that Cate predicted. Hym explained that, regardless of all, he was the official officer, and she was just ‘assisting’, even though it was her case. Hannah sat quiet, listening to his affirmation of power within their relationship.

“So we are clear on that, right? I’m not trying to be rude, but just to be clear and all. I mean, after all, I’m on the edge here letting you and your friends work the case as is. So this is just me saying, ‘I’m in charge.’ Okay?”

“Sure,” Hannah answered in a droned out tone as Hym pulled into the museum parking lot. Lost in thought, she took note of the police car, fire truck, and ambulance. She opened the door and exited his car while putting on her hat.

Hym sighed. “Are you even listening to me?” he asked.

“Uh huh,” Hannah responded as she walked toward the museum entrance where once again Officer Pepper stood guard. She heard Hym’s words but ignored them.

Just inside, Hannah and Hym met Dr. Steven Shields, the museum curator. Hannah sorted him out as he led them to a specific part of the small museum. Late fifties, early sixties. Glasses. Gray hair and beard. Average build. Average height and weight for a man of his age. Well spoken. Open, though at present upset. As a suspect, she dismissed him.

“The damaged area is specific,” Shields said. Upon entering, the curator pointed to a seated man wearing a guards uniform. He chatted with another Zebulon officer, one Mobley Glenn, whom Hannah had encountered that night at the studio. She put him in his thirties, red hair, average build and height. The guard was older, maybe in his seventies, thin, small, glasses, balding, as Hannah noted him. A small cut was visible on his head, and two paramedics attended him. “Boris was on duty when he heard a crash. He came in and got hit in the back of the head. When he came to, he called 911 and then me. I’ve called Mr. Karas. Just so you’ll know.”

Taking care while walking around the room, Hannah surveyed the damage. Glass lay everywhere from several smashed cases. Some of Julia’s cooking tools were scattered along the floor. Several pictures sprayed with pink paint lay strewn about.

“This appears to be random, but….” Hym trailed off.

Hannah completed his thought. “Almost too much so. Check this out.” Hym joined her as she pointed to all the damaged photos. “What do you see?”

Hym studied the photos. Two things stood out to him. “Pink,” he said. The color choice was unusual for vandalism. Black, red, yellow, were the favorites of choice in most such cases.

“It was Julia’s favorite.”

“Hmm,” Hym commented as he continued to study the scene, attempting to discern what Hannah already had. After a second, he caught on. Of the damaged photographs, those of Julia and Vera’s image remained intact. Whoever vandalized the museum marred photos of guests, Asa, Miller, and anyone else.

“Intentional or psychological?” Hym asked of Hannah.

“Hard to say. But there’s something to it, don’t you think?

Hym agreed.

“Do you have any idea of what’s missing?” Hannah asked. Shields peered around the room. “Just one thing that I can see so far.” In an irritated voice, he said, “The wedding rings.”

“The rings?” Hannah blurted out stunned. “Those things were worth a small fortune, weren’t they?”

The intensity in Hannah’s voice struck Shields, who responded. “Yes. The real ones.”

Hym shot Hannah a puzzled look. She returned it before peering at Shields. “Real ones?” she quizzed.

“This is, as you can see, a small museum. The Karas’ rings are worth a small fortune. We don’t quite have the security needed to display the real items and keep them safe. But Mr. Karas supplied us with mock-ups of the originals. They were gold plated with glass cuts. They were even displayed as such.”

Shields walked over to the broken display case and pointed to a small plastic placard. Hannah and Hym joined him to see that it read Model of Karas Wedding Ring Set. Below this was a description of the original rings’ properties.

“Who steals fake rings?” Hym inquired.

“A fan maybe,” offered Shields.

Hannah glanced around the room at the damage. She studied the now pink painted photos and then looked at the placard. “A fan. Yes. Just not the kind you’re thinking of.” Looking up, she smiled and said, “Thank you,” before heading for the door, once again lost in her contemplations. Hym informed the other officers to take pictures and dust for prints before following after Hannah. He found her outside standing next to his car, staring up at the night sky.

Approaching so as not to disturb her, he asked in a soft tone, “Something on your mind?”

Startled, Hannah turned back and smiled. “Always.” There was a slight pause as she emphasized her thoughts by tapping at the air with a pointed finger. “The rings. The photos. This isn’t just some fan on a freak out or some kids being stupid. This. This is personal.”

“I agree. But to what does it all point to?”

“Well, let’s work it. Asa gains nothing by this.”

“Nor does Miller.”

“Vera and Louie are together with my friends.”

“Jazlyn’s in the hospital.”

Both woman and man smirked. Although they had worked through the list together, Hannah was sure they came to the same conclusion. The most logical conclusion. “Xabiere,” she said.

Although pleased with their deduction, she still found herself troubled by one remaining fact. “We still don’t have proof,” she said, the frustration almost dripping from her words.

“Then let’s go get it,” Hym affirmed.

After Hym dropped her off, Hannah made her way into Louie’s, her friends still discussing the possibilities of the case. Her exhausted look led Louie to insist she head up to bed. “You can clue us in the next morning,” he suggested. She agreed and made her way upstairs and collapsed into her bed.

The next morning, Hannah made her way down stairs in her usual disheveled pre-coffee state. As she plodded into the kitchen, Critic jumped up from his place by the door to leap onto her, almost knocking her down. Licks and tail wagging kept everyone laughing as breakfast plates were put on the table.

“If you ever want to rid yourself of this love puppy, I’ll take him in a hot second,” Hannah contended as she avoided Critic’s tongue.

Handing her a cup of coffee, Louie cracked a smile. “If I go before him, I’ll put you down as an adoptive parent. But for now, I can’t live without my buddy.”

As the two settled into chairs at the table, Louie added, “I just got off the phone with Vera. Jazlyn is going to be okay. She’s a bit shaken, as you can imagine. Otherwise, she’ll be out in a day or so. Maybe even today.”

Louie shot Hannah a troubled look. “Are you any closer to finding out who killed Julia?”

Nodding, Hannah reached over and put her hand over Louie’s. “I think we are.”

Louie rolled his lips in.

Cate interceded, “Who?”

Glancing around to everyone first, Hannah came back to peer at Louie. “Xabiere.”

Over the next half hour, as Buster and Cate served breakfast, Hannah explained everything at the museum.

“So it came to mind that Asa or Miller had nothing to gain by destroying the museum and stealing the rings. Vera was with you and Jazlyn was in the hospital,” Hannah concluded after she swallowed down the last of her coffee. “You made these sausages yourself?” she asked Louie.

“I’ll give you the recipe,” he said, before asking, “But wasn’t he in the hospital the night Julia died?”

“Hym and I discussed that on the way home last night. He pointed out that Xabiere was in for observation for a concussion. It’s not like he couldn’t have gotten up and left at some point, just to make his way back later. Zebulon Memorial is just about seven minutes from the Karas house.”

Cate twirled her fork around in her eggs, lifted them a bit, and studied it. “Like you said though, no proof. So now what?”

“We find it. The best way to prove or disprove Hym’s theory is by checking the medical records.”

Cate scooped up another bite, again looking it over, before taking it in. “And how do you propose we do that? They’ll be on the hospital’s mainframe, if not in some archival room. Limited access.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

Buster looked up from his meal and met Hannah’s eyes. “Oh, hell no! The last time you said that we…”

“Let’s not talk about it, okay?” Hannah remembered. “That’s for another time.” She rolled around her empty cup between her hands and furrowed her brow. “We’ll find a way. We always do.”

Resettling himself, Buster assumed a puzzled look. “Why do you think he did it? Revenge? Julia gave him everything. Shouldn’t he have gone after Asa?”

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone thought the questions through. Hannah rose with a coffee cup in hand. “Well,” she said after reaching the coffee pot, “We are just going to have to find the answers and make the connection.” After pouring herself a cup, she held the pot up. “Anyone?”

While refreshing Buster and Cate’s cup, she noticed Louie’s’ contemplative look. “Louie?”

“I think I can help with that connect,” he said, rising from his place and heading out the kitchen door toward his office. Curious, Cate, Buster, and Hannah followed.

Once in the office, they found Louie dragging out one of the boxes that contained materials about Julia. He removed the lid and started digging, explaining as he went along. “It’s in here somewhere,” he said, scanning items. Hannah noticed he paused on photos in particular.

“Can we help?” Cate asked.

“I got it. I just haven’t gone through this stuff in a year. I was organizing it for a book I was going to work on but after the accident, I…” Louie paused, and his eyes widened. “Got it!” he said holding a photo up in the air. He then presented it to Hannah, who scanned it. Taken from a distance, the picture was of Julia in Paris alongside a man who seemed familiar.

Not taking her eyes from the photo, Hannah asked, “Buster, could you bring me my goggles?” Buster exited the room without question. Seconds later, he returned with her hat before handing it to her. She removed the goggles and put them on, then twisted the rim of one of the lenses.

Louie, looking puzzled, asked, “What ?”

Cate interrupted. “I’ll explain later.”

Her heart pumping, Hannah looked at the image through a magnifying glass on the goggles. She studied the man in the picture. “It’s Xabiere,” she said. She glanced over to Louie. His face was an odd array of emotions. Happiness, sadness, affirmation, and resolution. It was like a thousand pound weight drifted away from his soul.

“I knew it. I just didn’t want to recognize it,” Louie confessed. He walked over, sat down in his computer chair, and turned to face the others.

“I got that box and about a dozen other things about a month before Julia died. Showed up out of the blue. I figured I’d mentioned my project to someone, and they had some stuff, you know. I kind of shuffled through them at the time. And I ran across that photo.” Louie’s expression tightened, and he cleared his throat before continuing. “It’s hard to see who it is. But I knew that whoever it was, they were the reason she didn’t want to be with me. It’s from when she was at the school. Before our night together, she had been seeing someone.” He rolled his eyes, glancing around the room, searching for words. “Well, and now we know. ‘There is no such thing as coincidence in this world, Louie,’ my father used to say.”

No one said anything, unsure as how to respond. He looked at his friends and said, “Cate, would you do me a favor and retrieve the wedding photo off the wall in the living room?”

Cate gave him a puzzled look but exited. Everyone held their silence until she returned half a moment later. She was looking at the picture. “What are we looking for?” she asked, but Louie did not answer. He stared as Hannah studied it, and then pointed. “There. Xabiere.”

Buster shook his head. “So. He was at her wedding. He was a protégé and her sous chef.”

“For twenty years?” Cate commented in her usual disbelieving tone. “Please.”

Hannah scowled. “No. Look at his face.”

The man in the picture seemed sad while the others, wedding guests and groom, all were in a joyous mood. Hannah reached down and pulled up her goggles from around her neck where she had left them hanging. “There’s an indentation here,” she said, flipping the photo over and removing it from the frame. Once out, she found that there was an inscription on the back. The pressure from the writing instrument had pushed from the back to the front, leaving the raised letters on the other side. It was a recipe and the inscription read, ‘I created this just for you, darling. Chocolate Lava Cake with Marinated Cherries Jubilee. With the greatest love.’

Everyone turned to look at Louie. His face was almost emotionless. “I got that photo years ago from an auction. Never gave it much thought. Threw it in a frame, hung it on the wall. I figured the picture was a gift and Julia used it to present someone with her favorite recipe.” He gave a halfhearted smile and chuckled in a strange, unconvincing manner. “I should have looked at the damn handwriting.” He sat up straight and sighed. “It’s not hers.”

Everyone glanced over at the inscription. Hannah could see this was not indicative of the Julia described to her. While in college, she had taken a course in graphology, otherwise known as handwriting analysis. She never forgot one word that professor Raptis had said. “It’s not the eyes that are the mirror to the soul,” he said often. “It’s secrets that flow from your brain, down through a writing instrument, and onto the page.” Now, yet again, she was going to put his lessons to good use.

Following the words, Hannah traced her finger along underneath as she caught the patterns of the writing. She was not interested in the context. It most often revealed nothing beyond the moment of its creation. No. Her interest was in word display, which indicated more what kind of person constructed it.

“His handwriting suggests he has unresolved issues with his mother. Or a mother substitute,” Hannah stated with confidence.

Cate never questioned her friend’s ‘readings’, as they always proved both true and of great value. “By substitute, you mean Julia.”