Death by the Dozen (13 page)

“No worries. He’s an idiot—charming, but an idiot.”

He turned and grabbed two water bottles out of a mini-fridge and then handed her one. “It’s going to be hot out there; you’d better drink up.”

Mel unscrewed the top and took a sip. She was stalling for time, because now that she was here, she really didn’t know what to say.

“I accidentally, no, I take that back,” she said. “I was eavesdropping at your door—”

Johnny interrupted her with a bark of laughter that was as abrupt as the spikes of his blond hair.

“Now I know why Vic liked you so much. You’re a straight shooter,” he said. “You know, he talked about you all the time.”

Mel felt her throat get tight, but with a grimace, she pushed it away.

Johnny gave her a sympathetic look. “It was a crushing blow to lose Vic. He was a pain in the rear, but I liked him and I respected him. The man was larger than life.”

Mel nodded. She took a sip of water, trying to loosen her throat. “Can I ask you what Dutch was so mad about?”

“Oh, that.” Johnny looked unhappy. “Bake-Rite cake flour, the sponsor, isn’t thrilled with having Jordan Russell take Vic’s place, a bit of a drop in prestige, and he wants me to support Jordan as Vic’s replacement.”

“Dutch is okay with her?” Mel asked.

Johnny raised his eyebrows, and Mel got the feeling there was something between Dutch and Jordan that Johnny wasn’t too happy about. Rather than put him in an awkward position, she decided to let it lie for now.

“Listen,” she said, “I came to talk to you because Bertie Grassello told me yesterday that Vic had been let go by the network. You’re employed by the same network; can you tell me if it’s true?”

Johnny hesitated, and Mel couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t know the answer or he wasn’t sure how much he should say.

Finally, he blew out a breath and said, “Yeah, it’s true. For the record, I hate to be the one to confirm this for you.”

Mel realized that it was his loyalty to his friend that made him hesitate. Knowing that Mel had been Vic’s favorite student, he didn’t want to do anything that would diminish Vic in her eyes. She decided that she liked Johnny Pepper.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I loved him, but I wasn’t blind to his faults.”

Johnny looked relieved. “He had a few.”

“More like a hundred,” Mel said, and Johnny grinned.

“I’m going to miss the old bastard,” he said.

“Me, too,” she said.

There was a sharp rap on the door.

“Ten minutes, Johnny!”

“Got it!” he yelled back.

Mel stepped toward the door. “Thanks for your time, Johnny. I appreciate the information.”

“Anytime,” he said. “If you want to catch dinner sometime and talk, just let me know.”

Mel met his gaze and noticed that his eyes were a greenblue hazel like her own. They also had a spark of interest in them that she couldn’t ignore. For a nanosecond, she was tempted to accept his offer. It wasn’t often that she met a man with whom she had so much in common. But then she remembered Joe, and it was a no-brainer. She belonged with Joe, period.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind. See you on the stage.”

She shut the door behind her, and no sooner had she stepped into the main conference room than a ruckus erupted, the cause being a volcanic-looking Olivia Puckett.

“See?” she shrieked. “See? She’s cheating! She’s getting the mystery ingredient information from Johnny Pepper. I demand that you remove Fairy Tale Cupcakes from the competition!”

Mel glanced up to find a red-faced Olivia pointing at her with one meaty finger while a glowering Felicity Parnassus stood beside her. It took Mel a moment to recognize Felicity as her hair was a completely different shade today. Mel was sure her hair had been fiery red yesterday, but today it was platinum blonde; however, the same stick figure and too-big head gave away that it was indeed Felicity.

“What?” she asked.

“Is this true?” Felicity asked. “Are you cheating, Ms. Cooper?”

“Are you serious?” she asked. “I was in there talking about Vic Mazzotta as he happened to be special to both Johnny Pepper and me.”

The door behind her popped open, and Johnny stuck his head out. “Problem out here?”

“And I want him fired, too!” Olivia declared. “Cheater!”

Johnny’s dark eyebrows lowered in a squint as if he were sighting Olivia for a blast from a canon.

“What did you say?” he asked. His voice for all its Southern charm sounded as lethal as a rattlesnake’s bite.

“You told her the mystery ingredient, didn’t you?” Olivia asked. “Admit it!”

“Given that I am not told the ingredient until I reach the cooking area, that’s impossible,” he said. He glanced at Felicity. “You know that.”

Mel looked at Felicity, who was busily looking anywhere but at Johnny.

“Quite right,” she muttered. “Silly of me, really. Well, now that I’ve done my duty, shall we get on with it?”

She glared at Olivia and swept past her to the exit. Olivia flounced after her as if she’d like to take up her cause again, but Mel had a feeling Felicity would not be so eager to listen to her this time.

“Thanks, Johnny,” Mel said.

“No problem,” he said. “You’d better hurry. We start in five.”

Mel waved and ran out of the building toward the cooking dais. She hoped Angie was already there.

“What took you so long?” Angie hissed as Mel skidded into the kitchen beside her.

“I got held up by Puckett,” Mel said.

“Oh, well at least you look happier than she does.” Angie glanced over to where Olivia stood. Her chest was heaving, and her expression was twisted as if she were having bad thoughts about what she could do with some of her sharper cooking implements.

“Yeah, she accused me of trying to get the mystery ingredient out of Johnny,” Mel said. “She even called in Felicity Parnassus.”

“No!” Angie gasped.

“Yes,” Mel countered. “Luckily, as Johnny pointed out, even he doesn’t know the mystery ingredient until he steps on the stage and they hand him the box.”

“The woman is becoming unglued,” Angie said. “How far will she go to beat us?”

Mel turned her head and studied her friend. Angie’s brown eyes widened as she realized what she’d said. They turned to look at Olivia, who was rattling around in her kitchen, looking like she wanted to mince someone. Mel had a pretty good idea whom she would pick.

“Nah,” she said. “Olivia wouldn’t murder Vic to get to me. That’s crazy talk.”

“Is it?” Angie asked. “Think about it. She knows you’re Vic’s favorite student; heck, everyone does. It’s not like he made it a secret. She was furious that he was one of the judges. She may have whacked him just to make sure you’d lose.”

“That’s mental,” Mel said.

“Yeah, we’re talking about Olivia. Do you know anyone else who fits the description of nutso like she does?”

Mel had to admit, Olivia had cornered the market on crazy, but a murderer? She had to give it a solid maybe.

She was about to say as much when Johnny Pepper leapt onto the stage in front of them, holding yet another large box. It was crunch time now, because this was no longer just a challenge to the chefs competition.

Mel wanted to know who killed Vic, and the best way to do it was to be here where his killer had struck. She couldn’t afford to be bounced from the competition and lose access to all of the players. With that thought in mind, she pushed aside all of her questions and focused on what was in the box.

With his usual flourish, Johnny worked the crowd, and finally when they were whipped into a frenzy of curiosity, he pulled the lid off the box and announced, “And the mystery ingredient is . . .”

Mel and Angie were riveted as he reached into the box and pulled out a bottle of dark beer.

“A stout!” Johnny held the bottle aloft, and Mel heard the crowd go wild.

This was not one of the ingredients Tate had tested them with; still, she had an idea. With eight of their competitors gone, it would be easier to get to the ingredients they needed. Mel told Angie to go for the dark stouts, a chocolate if she saw any, and they waited with tingly anticipation for Johnny’s count.

“Go!” he yelled, and the chefs mobbed the cart. Mel and Angie each managed to snag some excellent choices, and when they got back to their kitchen, Mel was in full chef mode.

“Joanie,” she called their runner. “This is what I need.”

Joanie repeated the items to make sure she understood them and bolted off in the direction of the supply cupboard. Mel and Angie stood next to each other and talked with their hands shielding their mouths like two baseball players devising a play on a ball field just in case any of the other chefs were watching.

They broke apart and started cooking. Mel could feel the eyes of other chefs on them as she and Angie worked like a well-oiled machine. Joanie hurried back with a bag of ingredients. She stood at the side, ready to make another dash if she was needed, but Mel was feeling very confident.

“Hey, Angie and Mel, say cheese!”

They glanced up to see a pack of Angie’s brothers and their families standing in the crowd, holding up signs that read, WE LOVE FAIRY TALE CUPCAKES!

“Oh my god,” Angie said. “This is as bad as the time they showed up shirtless with body paint and sounded off an air horn when Principal Harris said my name at high school graduation. Shoot me.”

“I can’t, I need you,” Mel said. “Hey, at least this time they have their shirts on.”

“Given that they stood out of order and spelled my name Nagie instead of Angie, I’m pretty sure they’ve abandoned the body paint idea for life.” Angie said. “At least I hope so.”

Mel smiled and wrapped an arm around her as they mugged for her brother Paulie’s camera. Then they pulled Joanie in and made her pose, too.

The halfway buzzer sounded, and Mel pulled their dessert out of the oven. It was going to need to be cooled down, so she popped it into the mini-fridge and set about getting the plates ready. She wanted these to look as professional as possible.

The judges wandered amongst their stations; mercifully none of them stopped to chat with her. She didn’t know if it was because she was a blur of busyness today or if they were respecting her grief over Vic. She suspected it was the blur factor, which was fine with her. She could rally a smile for the family but not for anyone else.

She and Angie finished plating with five minutes to spare. She was delighted to see the other chefs pushing it right to the last second. Olivia in particular seemed to be huffing and puffing her way to the finish line.

Of course, then Mel was riddled with doubt. What if her recipe was so simplistic that the others blew it away? Maybe she should tweak it. She stepped toward her finished desserts, but Angie pulled her back.

“No, it’s perfect,” she said as if she had read Mel’s mind. “Don’t change a thing.”

Mel nodded. Angie was right. The final buzzer sounded, and they sagged with relief. It was good to have no more time to second-guess her work.

They took off their toques and their chef coats and stepped down from the dais.

“Do you want to watch the judging today?” Angie asked. “We’re down from forty-four to thirty-six. Tomorrow will be the top twenty-eight.”

“I don’t know,” Mel said. “I think it will be too nervewracking.”

Angie nodded. Just then the tidal wave of DeLauras engulfed them, and Mel lost sight of Angie while they were both soundly hugged and patted on the back by several of her brothers.

“So, what was that thing you made?” Ray asked. “It looked amazing.”

Mel smiled at him. Ray had a sweet tooth that rivaled even Joe’s, which was saying something.

“It was a chocolate stout brownie torte,” she said.

“Oh, man,” Sal said. “I think I’m drooling. Was there any left?”

“As if we’d give it to you,” Angie teased Sal, the car salesman of the family.

“Hey, I’m the oldest,” Dom said. “I think I’ve earned it.”

“I’m the baby,” Al said. “If anyone gets the leftovers, it’s me.”

And on and on they went. Mel debated calling Joe to let him know what he was missing, but she figured he’d probably lived through enough DeLaura family squabbles of his own.

She glanced up at the stage. The judges had taken their seats, and the professional wait staff was scurrying forward with the first of the desserts to be sampled. With thirty-six entries to judge, it was going to take a while. Her gaze stopped on Jordan, and she couldn’t help the hitch in her chest that told her it should be Vic sitting there.

Mel eased her way out of the DeLaura group hug and scooted around the dais. She had a sudden longing to go and visit Grace.

She hadn’t seen her since they’d taken Vic’s body away, and Mel knew that no matter what Vic had done, Grace would be mourning him. And right now, she really wanted to be with someone who understood the complicated loss that was losing Vic.