Death on a Platter (6 page)

He didn’t respond. His skin was flushed. His eyes stayed shut. Tillie was as pale as her apron as she tried to revive Clay. Henrietta and Gemma Lynn didn’t notice her distress—or Clay’s obvious illness.

Customers were shaking off their shock and rushing for the entrance. A thin woman stepped over Clay’s outstretched legs and nearly tripped. She was saved from a fall by her lunch companion, a man in a business suit. He pushed her toward the door. Josie heard car engines starting as the sirens grew closer.

Tillie’s restaurant was nearly empty by the time four paramedics sprinted through the door carrying bright orange bags of emergency equipment. They loaded Clay onto a gurney and swiftly carried him to the waiting ambulance. By that time, Jeff the chef had forced his way through the escaping crowd and folded the weeping Henrietta into his arms.

“He’s dead. He’s dead,” she cried on his shoulder.

“No, he’s not,” Jeff said, kissing away her tears. “The ambulance lights and siren were on. That means he’s alive. Let me take you to the hospital so you can be with him.”

“What about me?” Gemma Lynn demanded, like a whiny child. “I loved him. And she hated him.” She pointed a rhinestone-tipped talon at Tillie. “And she killed him. After Clay promised to leave. What am I going to do?”

“Go,” Tillie said. “Gemma Lynn Rae, get out of my restaurant right now.”

Ordering Gemma Lynn to leave helped Tillie recover. Her color was returning, but she was still shaky. Tillie used a bar stool to help herself up off the floor.

Josie ran forward and folded her mother’s friend into her arms. “It will be okay, Tillie,” she said. “Would you like me to call Jane?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Tillie said and burst into tears. She wiped her eyes with her grease-stained apron and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“He’s not dead,” Josie said.

“I didn’t want to hurt him,” Tillie said. “I just wanted him to go away and not come back. He’s costing me business.”

You have no idea what that man cost you, Josie thought. She hoped Tillie would never find out that Josie had been mystery-shopping her restaurant for TAG Tours.

“He complained my sauce wasn’t hot enough,” Tillie said. “I grow my own cayenne peppers in my kitchen. I figured if he wanted it hot, he’d get it. I took two whole peppers and chopped them up. I wanted that sauce to blister his mouth. But I’d never kill him.”

“I know that,” Josie said. “Clay will be okay.” Josie had her doubts. The man had been the color of putty when the paramedics rolled him out of the restaurant. She rocked Tillie in her arms. The little woman felt so much like Jane. She seemed fearless, but Josie could feel the frail old bones under that tough exterior.

Lorena stayed in the back of the restaurant. Why didn’t she come up front to help her mother? Josie wondered. Then she saw Lorena talking to Desmond. The developer’s spy said something and Lorena laughed. What could she find funny now? Was Lorena using Clay’s illness as an opportunity to be with Desmond? Or was that simply nervous laughter? Josie couldn’t see their expressions clearly in the shadows.

She did notice Gemma Lynn searching for her purse by the bar. Clay’s girlfriend reached under the bar stool and pulled out what looked like a black plastic trash bag with a gold handle. The monstrous bag’s sides were studded with rhinestones and patches of silver and patent leather. Gemma slung it over her shoulder and retreated toward the door.

She never got out of the restaurant. Two uniformed River Bluff police officers rushed in. Josie recognized the pair. They’d been there when Clay was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct on her first mystery-shopping visit. They’d eaten Tillie’s ravioli. Officer Harris had advised her to rehire Jeff.

“Someone called nine-one-one and said a man had been poisoned,” the tall, brown-skinned cop said. “They said he was dead.”

“We don’t know if he’s dead,” Josie said. “The paramedics just took him to the hospital.”

“Who are you?” Officer Harris demanded. He looked even more tired today. Now he had dark circles and pouches under his eyes.

“A friend of the family,” Josie said. “I stopped by for lunch at noon.”

“Did you call nine-one-one and say he was poisoned?” Officer Harris was abrupt, as if he didn’t have time for polite discussion.

“No,” Josie said. “Someone else must have. This restaurant was full when the trouble started. Most of the customers ran away.”

“He wasn’t poisoned,” Tillie said. “He wanted extra hot sauce and he got it.” Like Jane, Tillie had a lot of attitude, but this was the wrong time to show it. Josie wished the restaurant owner still looked pale and frightened instead of pugnacious.

“Who got the poison?” Officer Harris asked.

“It wasn’t poison,” Tillie said.

“I’m not standing here like a damned owl calling who,” Officer Harris said. “I’m asking you, Tillie. What is the name of the person who was taken to the hospital?”

“Clay Oreck.” Tillie dragged out the name, reluctant to say it.

Officer Zellman raised one eyebrow. “Tillie, that man has been a thorn in your side for months. My partner and I were here yesterday, when Oreck was arrested. He just got out of the drunk tank. Now suddenly he’s so sick he has to go to the hospital? You know I like you, Tillie, but I can’t play favorites. We have to treat this as a potential assault.”

“With what?” Tillie asked. “A deadly pepper?”

Josie winced. That was exactly the wrong answer.

“I hope for your sake you’re still joking about this tomorrow,” Officer Harris said. “Meanwhile, this restaurant is a potential crime scene. Nobody leaves here until they’ve been questioned by a detective.”

Josie heard more sirens. Three police cars were parked haphazardly outside the restaurant and more River Bluff uniforms flowed through the door. Officer Harris gave them orders.

Gemma Lynn was arguing with a uniformed officer at the door. “What do you mean, I can’t go? The man I love is dying. I have to be with him.
She
got to go with him in the ambulance.”

“If you’re talking about Mrs. Oreck, she is his wife,” the officer said. “She’s entitled. And she wasn’t in the ambulance. She followed behind in her car.”

So Jeff didn’t drive her to the hospital, Josie thought. She saw the chef hovering by the front door, as if he wanted to leave, too.

“Everyone go back to your seats,” Officer Harris said. “And no talking. A River Bluff detective is on the way.”

Josie and Alyce slid into their booth. The half-finished plate of toasted ravioli was still there. The ice was melting in their drinks.

“I can’t believe this,” Alyce said. Her skin looked like she’d powdered it with flour. “I had a bad feeling about coming here. What are we going to do?”

“Nothing we can do but wait it out,” Josie said.

“Why did Clay’s wife say he was the only man she ever loved?” Alyce asked. “A few minutes ago, she told Gemma Lynn she could have him.”

“Haven’t you ever hated your husband enough to leave him?” Josie asked.

Alyce flushed and Josie regretted that question. She knew the answer: Alyce and Jake had gone through a bad patch a year or so ago. Josie thought Jake had cheated on his wife, but she never knew the details. A romantic cruise and a more matronly nanny had restored Alyce’s marriage.

“Sorry,” Josie said. “What a stupid question. Every woman feels like killing a man some time or another.”

She found a toasted ravioli congealing in a pool of oil and popped it into her mouth. It tasted cold and greasy, but at least she couldn’t say anything else embarrassing.

“Josie!” Alyce said. “How can you eat that?”

“I didn’t touch the sauce,” Josie said. “And it tastes better than my foot.”

There was a shadow over their booth. It was Officer Harris’s partner, the blond poster boy. “You were asked not to talk, ladies.” Officer Zellman’s skin looked steam-cleaned and his uniform starched. “I’m going to ask you to move to separate booths.”

“We need to call our families,” Josie said. “I have an eleven-year-old daughter. She’ll be getting off school soon and I can’t go pick her up. I want to ask my mom. Please?”

“I need to call my nanny and ask her to stay longer,” Alyce said. “I have a three-year-old boy at home.”

“I’ll stay here while you make the calls. You—” He pointed at Josie. “Take this booth here.”

Josie got up quickly, before Officer Zellman changed his mind about that call. Now she was sitting with her back to Alyce. She could hear her friend negotiating with Justin’s nanny. Josie speed-dialed Jane’s phone, then braced herself for her mother’s questions.

Jane sounded surprised and suspicious. “What do you mean, a little problem at Tillie’s?”

“I can’t discuss it, Mom. The police asked me not to.”

“The police!” Her mother’s voice was louder and shriller.

Josie tried to soothe her. She glanced uneasily at the blond cop. Officer Zellman was staring straight at her. “Mom, I’ll tell you as much as I can when I get home.” Her words tumbled out and Josie felt she was talking faster than a tobacco auctioneer. “Mom, please call Ted and tell him I can’t see him this evening.”

“Josie, it’s not polite to cancel on such short—”

Josie interrupted her mother midlecture. “The officer is standing right here. He’s going to take my phone away. Can you pick up Amelia for me this afternoon?”

“Of course, Josie, but I’d like to know what’s going on.”

“Me, too, Mom.” Josie hung up on her mother.

“I’m not saying Tillie killed Clay or anything,” Jeff said, his voice earnest and oily. “But I did hear her say she wanted him out of her restaurant permanently.”

Brian Mullanphy, the River Bluff detective, wrote down every treacherous word.

That rat, Josie thought. No, pig. That was a better description. The chubby chef with his pink face looked like a pig with a tattoo. His skin was shiny, as if he’d slathered it with cooking oil. The barbed-wire tat twisted around his wrist, turning Jeff’s plump hand into a no man’s land.

Josie could see the chef sitting at a table near the entrance to the dining room side of Tillie’s. She could hear him, too. Sometimes. Other times, his voice trailed off.

Josie got Jeff’s message loud and clear. He was setting Tillie up for attempted murder.

She knew Jeff wanted his old job back. She’d heard him ask Tillie if he could work here again. Tillie had turned him down and Jeff had been furious. Of course he didn’t mention that to Detective Mullanphy.

Mullanphy wasn’t a homicide detective. He’d explained that the River Bluff force was too small to have a full-time homicide division. He investigated crimes against persons, from assaults to murder. Now he was interviewing the handful of people who’d remained after Clay was rushed to the hospital.

Jeff was the first. He leaned forward on his well-cushioned elbows as if confiding to the detective and said, “You know Clay drank a little too much. How often did Tillie call your department when Clay was drunk and loud?”

The detective ignored Jeff’s question. “Where were you at the time of the incident, Mr. Bartlett-Smith?”

“Jeff, please,” he said. “No need for the double-barreled name. Mom combined her maiden name and my dad’s name. She thought it sounded classy. I’m just plain old Jeff the chef.”

“Where were you at the time of the incident?” Mullanphy repeated.

“I was next to Clay at the bar, having a beer. I thought I saw someone I recognized sitting at that table there.” He pointed across the aisle. “I came back here to say hello to Rick. But it wasn’t him after all. Then I talked to a few other people on the restaurant side. A lot of Tillie’s customers know me because I used to work here. I was chatting with someone when I heard Clay screaming that his mouth was burning and I ran up front.”

That was close to what really happened, Josie thought. She remembered that Jeff had hung back until after the ambulance left with Clay. Then he went up front to comfort the man’s wife.

“Tillie grows her own peppers in the kitchen here,” Jeff said. “She keeps the plants on the windows over the sink. Says they give her sauce its kick. The horseradish helps, too. Did you know the best horseradish is grown right across from St. Louis in Belleville, Illinois?”

Detective Mullanphy wasn’t interested in the secret to Tillie’s sauce. “What is your relationship to Mrs. Minnelli?”

“Relationship?” Jeff looked puzzled. “None. She’s an old lady.”

“You said you used to work here.”

“Oh, right. I did. I cooked here for about three years and tended bar for Tillie. Then it was time for me to move on. I’ve started my own restaurant, Chef Jeff’s. But we’re still on good terms. I stopped by to see her at lunchtime.”

Liar! Josie heard the words in her head so loud she was surprised Detective Mullanphy didn’t turn around and look at her.

But Jeff continued, blithely lying about how he offered to help “the old girl” out at lunch. “Tillie’s not as young as she used to be and she needs help. I guess she won’t be needing it now. Word gets out about this and her business is probably going to drop off.”

And you’d like that just fine, wouldn’t you? Josie thought. She was angry at how Jeff had twisted the truth, like that barbed-wire tat twisting around his wrist. After Jeff finished, he was directed to a table in a back booth, where he wrote a statement and signed it while a uniformed officer stood nearby and watched.

Mitchell, the older man who’d bussed tables that afternoon, was called in next. Mitchell’s voice was a deep rumble and Josie had a hard time hearing him. She caught phrases: “Didn’t see anything . . . running in and out of the kitchen . . . I saw a lot of people in the kitchen, but there always are when it’s busy.... Yes, sir, Tillie did say she was going to make that sauce extra hot.”

Josie glanced at her watch. It was 2:52, nearly three hours after Clay’s lunch. Amelia would be home from school soon. Her plans to see Ted were gone. She hoped Ted would understand why she’d canceled their dinner tonight. She really did like the vet. No, this was more than like. She loved him and she’d told him so. Josie had finally found a good man after some bad choices. Amelia liked Ted. So did Jane. And their cat, Harry. Everyone liked Ted so much, it made Josie nervous. She worried that he was too good to be true.