Murder Al Fresco (11 page)

I looked over at Jones, searching his features. The man had one hell of a poker face. I couldn't tell if he'd found something on Chad Tobey's death or not. Either way, we didn't have the privacy to discuss it.

"I will make the pasta," Aunt Cecily announced, her words drawing my attention from Jones.

Oh, no. No, no, no. I had to keep her away from the pasta shop, at least while Jacob was there. "That's okay, Aunt Cecily. Kaylee and I have it under control."

She narrowed her eyes. "Mimi came back, yes?"

"Not until tonight," I admitted.

"And you still participate in this cooking competition, yes?"

She made
Diced
sound like a pie-eating contest at the county fair. "Yes."

"Then I must make the pasta." Without another word, she marched over to Kaylee. "We must go."

"Well, she's made up her mind. I best go warm up the car." Pops shuffled to the door, keys in hand.

I sent Jones a panicked look and mouthed the words "help me."

Jones cleared his throat. "Um, Aunt Cecily? I have to run into town. Is there any way you and Eugene could stay here until my sister arrives to watch Clayton? I don't want him anywhere near the madhouse of the cooking competition."

Aunt Cecily looked ready to argue—when didn't she? — but she gave a nod and said, "Very well. We will sit
il
bambino
.
"

"Thank you." Jones gestured to the door. "Don't you need to get back, Andrea?"

Oh, he totally had something for me. Unfortunately, there would be no opportunity to discuss whatever he knew with Kaylee in the car, and once we got to the pasta shop, finding a minute alone would be damn near impossible.

"We will be by after," Aunt Cecily said, her tone implying a hidden threat.

"Can't wait." My voice sounded faint, barely above a whisper. How on earth was I going to stop her?

*   *   *

"A terrific meal, Andy." Rodrigo Lobo touched my arm as I passed his booth, and I stopped, not wanting to seem rude.

"Coming from you, I'll take the compliment." I beamed down at him. "Can I get you anything else?"

There was nothing left on his plate but a smear of tomato sauce and a few breadcrumbs.

He patted his totally ripped stomach in mock exaggeration. "Not if I don't want to look like a beached whale on camera."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Jones pause in clearing a booth of dishes to glower. I pointedly turned my back on him, not willing to deal with a mantrum in the making. "You're one of the competitors?"

Rodrigo quirked a brow. "But of course."

I felt like an idiot for not figuring that out sooner but chalked it up to my multitude of distractions. That explained why he wanted to check out the pasta shop—he was scoping out his competition. I wondered if he really had enjoyed the meal, but empty plates didn't lie. "Any idea who we'll be up against?"

Rodrigo shook his head. "Stu is being even cagier than usual. And his mood has been so foul of late that I'm steering clear."

"I don't blame you there," I laughed, though it sounded a little forced. "Well, I better get back to it." I chucked a thumb at the kitchen door.

Rodrigo stopped me with a hand on my arm. "I was wondering if you'd let me cook for you tonight."

"What?" I froze, the question taking me totally off guard.

He flashed me his megawatt smile. "It's only fair, no? You cook for me, and I cook for you so that we start off on even footing."

I could sense Jones hovering and only hoped he hadn't heard the offer. Rodrigo made it sound like I'd prepared a meal especially for him, which so wasn't the case. He was just another customer. Yet he wanted to cook for me? I studied him, unsure of his motives, and murmured, "Thanks, but I have plans."

"Tomorrow then." Rodrigo wouldn't let up. "Please, chicana.
I have nothing but time on my hands and am ready to go
loco
."

I studied him for a beat. Donna had mentioned that Rodrigo had rented a big house on the east side of town. If I went onto his turf, Jones's head would explode. But the offer was completely professional, right? There was room for compromise, and I truly did want to gauge his talents for myself. "If you want, you can prepare a family meal after we close tomorrow."

Family meal was cuisine made for the staff, usually concocted from whatever ingredients were left after the customers had been served. Because our dishes were always Italian, Mimi and I had recently been experimenting with other cuisine for a change. Mimi and Kaylee would both be there, possibly Aunt Cecily and Pops too—if they hadn't disowned me yet. Jones would have no reason to object.

Well, no
good
reason.

Rodrigo beamed. "It will be a great honor."

Before I could stop him, Rodrigo lifted my hand to his lips and brushed a kiss to my knuckles. Behind me, dishes clattered as though someone had dropped a bin full of them. Oh, muffin top, there was no way Jones had missed that gesture.

Yanking my hand back, I scurried off in a less-than-graceful exit, making a point to avoid my fiancé's hawk-like stare. Luckily there was a clear path to the kitchen door. The second it closed behind me, I stopped and shut my eyes. Damn. It was hard to tell if this was Rodrigo's true nature or if he was playing some sort of game. For a moment I considered that he might be the press leak and was trying to stir the pot and get dirt on Jones and I, but that was ridiculous. Fangirl#1 had yet to post anything about me. And for Rodrigo to be caught slamming fellow chefs would be detrimental to his career.

"Everything okay out there?" Kaylee paused in grating cheese to ask.

"Peachy keen, jelly bean." I sucked in a deep breath, fortified by the scents of garlic and oregano, and resolved to keep myself in the kitchen for the next few hours. Lost in the rhythms of cooking, I jumped when someone put a hand on my shoulder and turned to see the sheriff in my kitchen.

"Kyle? What is it?"

Kyle's gaze cut to Kaylee then back. "I need to speak with you. In private."

The timer went off, indicating the latest loaves of Italian bread were ready to come out of the oven. "Can it wait? As you can see, I'm kinda swamped."

"Now." Kyle's jaw was set, and he stalked back toward the office.

"He seems cheerful," Kaylee said, with the biting sarcasm only a teenage girl can pull off. "Honestly, he's been surly since he broke up with Lizzy. We've got to get those two back together."

I made a choking sound. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding. When am I supposed to find the time to meddle in someone's love life?"

Kaylee frowned as if I were the one being ridiculous. "I'm totally serious. I don't even know why they broke up in the first place."

"Andy!" Kyle barked from the office.

I yanked the bread out of the oven and moved it to the cooling rack. "I could hazard a guess."

"He was happier when he was getting some regularly."

"Kaylee!" I stuck a finger in my ear and twisted. "That's your dad."

She shrugged, shrugged! "That doesn't make him less crabby."

"Thanks for inflicting that mental picture on me." Teenagers, oy.

Risking Kyle's wrath, I ducked my head back out into the main room and signaled Jones that I was ducking out for a moment. My fiancé looked like he was about to protest my departure but then was shanghaied by the local quilting circle. Feeling both guilty and relieved, I headed down the hallway to my office.

Kyle stood beside the desk, his face inscrutable. Kaylee was right. Even though Kyle seemed to have matured, he didn't look happy. Not that I was about to help my daughter stepparent trap his hide. I had more than enough shenanigans going on, thank you very much. "I'm not kidding when I say I'm busy, Kyle. The place is jumping."

"Sit," he ordered me.

My first impulse was to put my hands on my hips, lift my chin, and refuse to comply. I wasn't his dog. But that would take too long, and as competent as Kaylee was in the kitchen, there was way too much work for one person. So I sat and waited.

Kyle stared at me for a beat. "Someone," he paused, letting the significance of that word sink in so that I knew he had an idea who that someone was, "hacked into the ME's file on Chad Tobey."

"Oh?" I blinked, trying to look innocent. Damn, if only Jones and I had had an opportunity to get our stories straight.

The sheriff wagged a finger in my face. "Don't try that wide-eyed look on me, Andy Buckland. Was it you?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Kyle, I'm a chef, not a hacker."

His eyes narrowed. "How about your boyfriend? He's a PI, and I know he has the skills."

That was trickier because I didn't know, though I had my suspicions. "He's been a little too busy with personal stuff lately."

Kyle raised a brow. "You mean his son?"

"How did you know?" Mental forehead smack. He knew because this was Beaverton, and nobody could keep secrets, at least not for long. "Never mind. You haven't told anyone, have you?"

Kyle gave me a droll look. "Of course not. It's no one else's business, but I'm a little surprised that you're not more upset about it."

"Upset?" I snorted. "It was a shock, but it's not like Jones was hiding Clayton from me. He didn't even know about him until his trip to New York with—" I broke off before Lizzy's name tumbled out.

Kyle looked at me, his expression blank "You can say her name, Andy."

"Sorry," I said. "I don't want to rub your nose in it or anything." And though I didn't even want to consider it, in my darker moments I wondered if they would be married by now if not for me and all the craziness that followed me back to town.

He shrugged, though I could tell the gesture wasn't exactly casual. "Back to business."

But before we could get back to business, there was a crash. Followed by another.

"What the hell?" Kyle and I looked each other. He flung open the door, and I was right behind him.

People filled the hallway outside. Another crash sounded, followed by some other noises, and a faint cry of panic. For a wild moment I feared Jones had lost his last shred of self-control and had attacked Rodrigo, and the two were brawling in the front room.

Then a distinctive noise registered, the cacophony that haunted my nightmares and woke me in a cold sweat.

The sound of a large crowd of people emptying their stomachs in unison.

The crush of people wasn't surging away from a commotion. They were heading, en masse, to our small bathrooms.

"Oh, God," I whispered, sinking against the wall. "Not again."

Italian Bread

You'll need:

½ cup water, warmed to 110°F

1 package of active dry yeast

Pinch of sugar

4½ cups bread flour

1½ cups of warm water

2 teaspoons salt

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 egg white

Sesame seeds, if desired

Directions:

Proof the yeast, water, and a pinch of sugar right in the mixer bowl. Use the dough hook, not the paddle. Dump flour on top of proofed yeast. Pour all the water on top of that at one time. Mix just a second or two, and add salt. Keep mixing till dough leaves sides of bowl. If it pools in the bottom of the bowl after a couple minutes, add more flour a tablespoon at a time until it really gets itself together. You'll know as it mixes if it's too dry or too moist. If it is too firm, you can add a teaspoon or two of water—but not too much or you will get a slimy ball of dough.

Turn dough out onto floured counter. Knead for about eight minutes—pound it, drop it, and slap it to get all the air bubbles out. Knead till smooth and elastic. It should feel firm, and don't be afraid to be rough with it. For higher rising bread, the dough should be firmer.

Oil a bowl with olive oil. Add the ball of dough and turn over to coat both sides. Cover with plastic wrap and let rest in warm place until it doubles, about an hour.

Dough is ready when fingers inserted leave an indent. Cut the dough in half, and shape each half into a loaf. Put each loaf on a sheet of parchment paper. Using a very sharp knife, cut a few slits in the top of each loaf.

If adding seeds, mix one egg white with a little water and whip with a whisk until frothy. Brush the bread with the egg wash and sprinkle with sesame seeds. If not adding seeds, you do not need the egg white mixture.

Cover and let rise another half an hour.

While the dough is rising, put a pizza stone on the center rack of the oven and preheat to 450°F. Wait to bake the bread until the stone is good and hot. Just prior to baking put about 1½ cups of ice cubes in a small oven-safe dish, and put in on the lower rack of the oven.

You will be baking the bread for approximately 25 minutes total. Slide the parchments with the bread onto the hot stone in the oven. Using a misting bottle, immediately spray water on the sides and top of the oven and the bread—about six times very rapidly and close the door.

Bake 5 minutes.

Open and spray with water again, and bake 5 minutes.

Open and spray with water again, and bake 5 minutes. (15 minutes total so far.)

Open and spray with water again and bake for 10 minutes more.

Keeping the oven moist and hot is what gives the bread that wonderful crust. Bread is done when you tap and it sounds hollow. It should look brown. Remove bread and parchment from the oven, and cool on wire racks. Let cool slightly, if you can wait, and devour!

**Andy's note: No mixer, no problem—you can go classic Aunt Cecily-style and mix by hand. Proofed yeast: Bring ½ cup water to 110°F then add one package of active dry yeast and a pinch of sugar. Stir and let sit until it foams a bit, about 10 minutes.

Put 4½ cups bread flour in a bowl or on the counter, and make a well in the center and add the water-yeast mixture. Mix lightly then add an additional 1½ cups of warm water and combine. Add 2 teaspoons salt with a handful of additional flour and knead into the bread. Turn dough onto floured counter and proceed from there.