Hot Stuff (18 page)

Kelly the baker had figured it out, and she didn't even know me. She'd said something about riding on James's coattails. And
it was pretty much what I was doing. Pretty intuitive. Pretty sharp lady.

Thirty minutes later, as I sat on the curb, James pulled up in the white monster.

“Why so glum, chum?”

“Just thinking.”

“Em's building. So you two talked?”

“Nope. We will.”

I filled him in on most of the conversation with the Fields lady.

“Whoa. Amanda Wright is knocked up at sixteen, gets an abortion, then when she's twenty she files a sexual battery charge against a college instructor?”

“The kid's dad paid for the abortion. I was wondering if somebody paid her off to drop charges against the teacher.”

“Skip, you're talking about Em's friend. You're making her sound like some sort of—”

“Wondering, James.”

“And you can't go to Em and say something?”

I couldn't. Not yet. I wanted something tangible to present to her. What I wanted was to solve the murder.

“It's not our job to investigate this lady, Skip.”

I'd thought about that, too.

“Our job, the reason we were hired, was to clear the restaurant staff. Bouvier wants to know if someone from L'Elfe was responsible.”

“Yeah. Well, it seems to have taken on some other dimensions.”

He nodded as he lit up a cigarette and was careful to blow the smoke out the window, not at me.

“I'm not saying don't go after it, amigo. I'm just saying that we need to concentrate on that kitchen staff. And so far, we haven't made much headway.”

“There's a reason she was murdered. So, I'm thinking we find that reason, and we'll know if someone from the kitchen staff, the restaurant staff, was involved.”

“Nothing wrong with approaching it from both sides,” he said.

“One more thing, James.”

“Only one?”

“When Kelly Fields said Amanda would sleep her way to the top, I think it adds another suspect to the mix.”

“That's all we need.”

“Jean Bouvier.”

“Pard, I don't care how much she wanted something, can you picture her having sex with the elf?”

I didn't want to.

“So you're saying that Bouvier may have killed her because—”

“Maybe she was blackmailing him?”

“Only if she slept with him.”

“And maybe Sophia suspects that Bouvier killed her. And that's why she is so insistent that we don't consider him. She's adamant that we don't go there.”

He was quiet for a long time, and I reached for the radio. Then I remembered it quit working a week ago.

“I think it's a long shot, pard.”

We drove in the warm humid night air, both windows down. Mainly because the air-conditioning didn't work and because my window wouldn't roll up.

I heard James's phone ring at seven a.m. Rolling over, I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to ignore it. I could still hear him as he finally answered on the fourth ring.

The one-sided conversation was hard to follow.

“Hello?”

Silence, then, “The
L'Elfe Two
?”

More silence and, “You want me to what?”

Even though I prayed for quiet and another hour or two, I obviously wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon.

“Chef Jean knows this?”

Getting out of bed, I walked to the kitchen and grabbed the orange juice from the refrigerator. I checked the smell test to see if it was spoiled, then gulped a mouthful from the spout. Sitting down at the kitchen table, I reflected on what I'd learned last night. What about Amanda's sexual past could lead to her murder? I still hadn't figured it out.

“Hey, chief, you're not going to believe this.” The hangover effect seemed to have left him and he was as chipper as usual. I, on the other hand, not so much.

“What? They're giving you the South Beach restaurant after just three nights on the job?”

“Not quite. But close.”

“What's close?”

“Chef Marty pulled a little disciplinary action on our friend Joaquin. He pulled him from Bouvier's party boat detail tonight. Mr. Vanderfield will not be working this evening.”

“Party boat?”

“It's a dinner cruise boat. He named it
L'Elfe Two
. Not very original, but apparently people pay a lot of money to eat his food on the water.”

“Okay, what does that have to do with you?”

“Chef wants me to be the number two guy on the boat tonight. Number two, amigo. Pretty cool.”

I shook my head. “Chef Marty doesn't know you're not really there to work the kitchen.”

“No.” James shot me a look. “What he knows is that Bouvier told everyone I was the heir apparent to the new place, so he's figuring, why not try me out on the boat. I'm sure Marty is going to watch me to see if I have the talent or the magic to make this happen.”

James smirked. He was in on the joke.

“And I guess Bouvier approved it, so there wouldn't be any question about my ability and skills.”

“And you don't really know what you're doing.”

James opened the refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice. Without checking on the expiration date he slugged down two or three swallows.

“Skip, I've surprised myself. I actually am working almost up to speed. I've helped a couple of the cooks with their sauces, made some suggestions and decisions, and even got involved in baking some bread with Kelly last night.”

“James, we're here to catch a killer.”

“I'm supervising, advising, and last night I introduced my red wine plum sauce with cloves and Dijon mustard. Get it, dude. Bouvier's kitchen was serving my plum sauce. It doesn't get much better than that.”

“You get it, dude. Play the role but keep in mind what we're here to do. Got it?”

“One night on the boat, Skip. There will be a couple of the kitchen staff, four from the waitstaff, and, get this, the group that hired the cruise have asked for Bouvier and Sophia to join them.”

“High rollers.”

“Very. I mean, in the food chain, you don't get much higher than celebrity chef Jean Bouvier.”

“So, you're cooking for the boss and some big shot party?”

“Chef said you were invited.”

I blinked and tugged at my boxer shorts. “As a member of the party?”

He smiled, rolling his eyes. “Hardly.”

“What are they going to do without me back at L'Elfe one? I was beginning to think no one else knew how to run the damned dishwasher.”

“Don't be bitter, son. We'll still be hanging with Chef Marty, two of the cooks, and four waiters. It will give us a chance to talk a little to Marty. You did say that Kelly mentioned that it was possible Amanda even had an affair with him.”

“What the pastry chef said was that Amanda could have had her pick of anyone on the staff, even Chef.”

“Skip, while we're one on one with Marty and two other cooks, Em can be working on the backgrounds of Joaquin Vanderfield and Juan Castro. We're still covering all the bases. I liked that line the cookie lady had about Vanderfield and Amanda. They had a love-hate. What do you make of that?”

“I don't know, but I'll check with Em and see how far she's gotten on her computer checks.”

He had a point. Em could be doing some legwork while we worked the dinner shift. And working on a boat sounded like a lot more fun than spending another night in that hot pressure cooker of a kitchen.

“What the heck.”

“Great. It's an easy gig. Most of the cooking is done at the restaurant. He says we simply warm, serve, and clean up.”

I was pretty sure who was going to clean up.

“You call Em, I'll let Chef know we're on board.”

“Literally.”

I dreaded the call, not knowing what to say to her about my insecurities, but I plowed ahead. She picked up on the third ring.

“Skip.”

“Can you talk?”

“Of course.”

“I didn't know if you were busy.”

“I'm not.”

That was a positive sign.

“What's up?”

“Well, James and I have been invited, summoned rather, to appear on Bouvier's party boat tonight.”

“
L'Elfe Two
? That's supposed to be quite a yacht.” She was tuned into the elite, sophisticated scene. I'd never heard of the ship.

“Yeah. And Chef Marty is going to be there. Last night I had a chance to talk with the pastry chef, Kelly Fields, and she, in a roundabout way, suggested that possibly Marty or Joaquin may have had an affair with Amanda.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. And, of course, Joaquin Vanderfield is the guy who the kitchen staff thinks had a reason to kill her.”

I didn't want to say that Amanda Wright could have slept
with the entire staff. That's not what Em would want to hear. Two of that elite kitchen staff didn't seem overwhelming.

“So, I wondered if you'd had a chance to look into Joaquin's background or if you found out anything about Juan Castro, the dishwasher? Excuse me, former dishwasher. You have intimate knowledge of the most current dishwasher.”

Em didn't laugh. She didn't even pause. “I have information on the dishwasher and Vanderfield. Both of them have somewhat of a checkered past.”

I had thought the same thing about the sous chef victim. Amanda. Definitely a checkered past.

“And?”

She was silent for a moment. A moment turned into sixty seconds.

“Em?”

“Skip, Ted has been pushing it a little bit.”

I wasn't ready to hear this. Ted. I hadn't mentioned him. I had dreaded bringing it up, and here she was, volunteering information.

“He's called several times, and I've tried to keep it all business. We've had coffee, you know? But he wants it to be a little more friendly. He picked me up and took me to the lab. I couldn't lie to you about that. You knew it right away. And, Skip, I'm not sure how to deal with it.”

“What about you? Do I even want to know how you feel?” She knew how I felt. There was no question. “Are you encouraging this guy? For God's sake, Em, help me out here.”

“I'm flattered, Skip. Come on, you've met him. He's an attractive guy. Maybe a little old for me, but—”

“He does nothing for me, Em. Sorry.”

In the silence that followed I remembered she had said “but.”

“But what?”

She sighed. “By my staying close, he's sharing things with me about the case. Things he probably shouldn't be sharing.”

“What's close, Em?”

“Not that close, okay? God, you're sounding like a sixteen-year-old high school boy.”

“So what's he sharing with this closeness?”

“One thing he shared, someone has called the coroner's office several times asking if they've released the autopsy report yet.”

“So?”

“I'm not sure of the significance,” she said. “Ted just said it's unusual that an anonymous caller would make multiple contacts.”

“Have they done the autopsy?”

“They have, but the results are still kept under wraps.”

“So there might have been more than just a stabbing? That's what they're going for, right? That there might be another cause of death?”

“I don't know, Skip, but it might be important. And I don't know if you heard, but they printed the staff last night.” Kelly had mentioned it. If I hadn't talked to her, I wouldn't have even known.

“They already have our prints. So what's this privileged information?”

“There seems to be at least one other set of prints on the knife.”

“Whose?” This could be the key to the investigation. Marty, Vanderfield, or Castro? Whoever had left it in James's locker could be the one who stabbed Amanda. But I was certain the case was much more complicated than that.

“They didn't match anyone on staff.”

“Somebody whose prints aren't on file anywhere?” My prints
were now on file. And if James hadn't had some bad luck in Islamorada, his wouldn't be on file.

“That's what it would seem.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“James is a person of interest.”

It was my turn to be shocked. “Get out.” I was sure I hadn't heard her right. “Somebody actually called him that? A person of interest? I thought Conway was just running the idea through his head. Now they're on record as thinking James may have killed her? My God, Em, are they crazy?”

“Settle down and listen to me. They're looking into it. James comes up as someone they are interested in.”

“Em, that's totally impossible.”

“I know that, Skip. Believe me, I know, but they've got the knife, they've got the blood on the tang, they've got the prints, and they've got a relationship. Plus, he was home alone that night with no one to back up his story.” She paused for a moment. “I wish I'd never set the two of them up on a date.”