Chapter 25

Who has the time to plan a poisoning and then stay hidden? That was the question going through my mind. I had just sent Agnes up to the family with lunch. Today was fish, chips, and mushy peas. The children liked the basics.

My thoughts turned to Lord Heavington. If he was the one who killed Wentworth, then he had to have hired someone who had the time to create cyanide—since buying it was nearly impossible—and put it in the pie. Someone who had the time to look for an opportunity—like me leaving the pie—and taking advantage of it. Someone who worked in and around the kitchen on a regular basis and needed money enough to commit murder for it.

Maybe Chef Wright figured out who it was and that’s why he was killed with a knife.

That means we should be looking at people who worked in the Orangery. Maybe I would have a talk with Sandy.

“I’m going out for a moment,” I said to Agnes when she got back. “We’re making strawberry tarts and scones for tea. I have the dough chilling in the fridge.”

“Then I’ll take my lunch.”

“Sounds good.” I stepped out into the gray light of a rainy day in London. The parking lot was filled with puddles and dark cars as people ducked in and out of vehicles. I had an umbrella, but it was nice to feel the rain on my face.

Inside the Orangery was warm and bright. Soft music played and people talked in low tones. There was the clink of teacups and dishes. I made my way to the back kitchen, waving at the staff along the way. By now everyone knew who I was. Even the new hires because they took the handbook training class with me.

“Chef, what brings you to the Orangery?” Peter Chadsbury, the new day manager, said when I walked into the kitchen.

“I’m looking for Sandy.”

“Right, well, she’s in the office.” He pointed toward the tiny office at the far end of the kitchen.

“Thanks.” I maneuvered around the busy workers, making a bee-line to the office. “Chef,” I said as I knocked on the open doorjamb.

“Oh, hello.” Sandy sat back from her work. “What can I do for you Chef Cole?”

“Carrie Ann,” I said and entered the room.

“Yes,” she said.

“I wondered how things were since we last saw each other,” I said. “May I?” I pointed at the stack of cookbooks and notebooks on the chair across from the desk. The office was a very small place with next to no shelving.

“Yes, please, have a seat,” she said and put her elbows on the desk. “Things have been crazy here. I’ve been temporarily placed in charge of the kitchen while they interview new chefs to take the job.”

I winced. “They didn’t just give the job to you?”

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I have to interview and go through the same process as the other candidates.” She sat back. “I prefer it actually. I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I might have been the one to off Chef Wright.”

“Motive,” I said. “It never crossed my mind that anyone would think that you killed him.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t kill him. I have witnesses.”

“Whew!” I smiled. “There is some thought that Wentworth’s killer might have been paid to poison him.”

“Why?”

“The tabloid pictures he took. He was blackmailing Lord Heavington. I suspect Lord Heavington wasn’t the only one.”

“You think one of my staff was responsible for the poisoning?”

“It had to be someone who had the time to make the poison, then cook it into the meringue.”

“So someone off the street couldn’t have done it.”

“Nor anyone who doesn’t know their way around the kitchen.”

“That’s the thing,” Sandy said. “My staff weren’t the only people in Chef Wright’s kitchen. He used to bring in his mistresses and show off by cooking for them.”

I winced. “What about his wife? I hear she got a big insurance settlement.”

“She hasn’t been seen on the palace grounds in years,” Sandy said. “I’ve been here for five years and I haven’t seen her since I first started.”

“Yes,” I said, sitting back. “That matches what Chief Gordon told me. He said only staff were on the premises that night.”

“That means it had to be one of my staff members,” Sandy sighed.

“Most likely, yes,” I said. “I think they might have been targeting Chef Wright at the bake-off and Chef Butterbottom interfered.”

“I was one of the assistants for Chef Wright that day in the park. I don’t remember having packed water.”

“You were? I thought you were left in charge of the Orangery.”

“Yeah, no,” she said. “Chef Wright asked me to come at the last minute. Chef Lancaster was the one who stayed behind and ran things.”

“Wow, why don’t I remember you being there?”

She sent me a short smile. “No one remembers assistants. They are practically invisible.”

“Practically invisible,” I repeated. “That’s why Chef Wright was able to have so many mistresses. He kept his attention on assistants like Evie and Rachel.”

“Because they are practically invisible in the palace,” Sandy said. “Yes, they came and went in the kitchen and no one questioned them.”

“Who else could come and go like that? I mean, someone with baking skills. Someone who could make the meringue.”

“There is Vladimir Rischek. He is an assistant pastry chef. And Geoff Theilman, the Orangery pastry chef,” she said. “Both men could come and go at any time without anyone thinking it was unusual.”

“Do they need money? I’m thinking of motive.”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard anything about their needing money. That said, Chef Theilman doesn’t like you at all,” she said. “I’m speaking of motive to use your pie. That man does nothing but grouse about how you catered the bridal shower in his kitchen.”

“Chef Wright was okay with it,” I said.

“Chef Wright wanted to add you to his list of conquests,” Sandy said. “He would have let you take over his kitchen for a week. Chef Theilman hated Wright for that.”

“So he had means and motive to kill Chef Wright and frame me. Where is he now?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” Sandy said. “We can’t just accuse him. He’s interviewing for the head chef spot same as me.”

I winced. “So people would think it was you trying to get him out of the running.”

“Let’s not give them anything to think.”

“Right. What about this Vladimir person? Is he around?”

“He has been on leave ever since the competition. The gossip is that he got sick like Butterbottom and his crew, but while they came back to work, he didn’t.”

“So Vladimir might have poisoned Wentworth and then poisoned Butterbottom to throw the police off his trail.”

“And accidently poisoned himself.”

“Except,” I said, “they say poison is a female murder weapon.”

“I think that’s a bunch of hogwash. I think a guy is more likely to figure out how to make cyanide. They like screwing around with chemistry and making bad stuff.”

“True.” I stood. “Thanks for the talk.”

“What are you going to do?” Sandy asked.

“I’m going to tell Chief Gordon about Geoff and Vlad. Maybe get this mystery solved.”

“It’s bugging you, isn’t it?” Sandy said.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m worried that there is at least one, if not two killers out there. They seem to be trying to frame me. I’d rather not have to worry about my kitchen or the royal family. You know?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

We exchanged phone numbers and made a promise to get drinks sometime. I needed more friends. Sandy seemed like someone who would understand the new world I lived in.

*   *   *

“Hi.” I had decided to stop by Ian’s office. He was inside doing paperwork. It was a relief to find him alone. “Your secretary let me in.”

“This is a nice surprise.” He stood. “Come in, sit down. What can I do for you?”

“I … we sort of got interrupted.” I took the offered seat in front of his desk.

“Probably for the best,” he said. “How’s Jasper?”

“Good, I guess,” I said. “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Are you two not dating?”

“I think we’re dating,” I said. “Sort of, anyway. It’s weird because he thinks you have a thing for me.”

“Huh.”

“Look, I know you have a girlfriend. I didn’t really come to talk about that.” I leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking about Wentworth’s murder.”

“Oh boy.”

“Please hear me out,” I said. “His death had to be deliberate. I mean, no one would go through all the trouble of finding or making cyanide, put it in a pie and let someone—not the intended victim—eat it. It just doesn’t make sense. Do you know how hard it is to get your hands on cyanide?”

“It’s not an easy substance to come by,” he agreed. He sat behind his desk with his hands folded on top, looking at me intently.

“You can try to make it with apple seeds, but that’s nuts.”

“Or seeds.”

“I’m being serious,” I leaned toward him. “I was speaking to Sandy about it.”

“Sandy?”

“Chef Wright’s sous-chef.”

“Right.”

“Listen we think that whoever poisoned the pie had to be someone like an assistant. Someone who can come and go from the kitchen and no one pays very much attention to—”

“Do you have a suspect in mind?”

“We’re thinking Vladimir Rischek or Geoff Theilman. Both men had access to the kitchen and the skills to make the meringue.”

“Men don’t usually use poison,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“Check into their backgrounds,” I said. “I’ve heard that Geoff didn’t like me catering the bridal shower. He had access to the kitchen and my pie. I also found out that Vladimir has been out sick since Chef Butterbottom was poisoned. Maybe Vladimir accidentally poisoned himself. Either man could have been paid to do the deed. You should look into who might need the money. Lord Heavington could have paid them.”

“Sounds like a stretch, but I’ll look into it.”

“Thank you.” I stood. “I understand it’s pretty hard to find, buy, or make cyanide.”

“We have the chemical formula for the poison that killed Wentworth. We know how it was produced.”

“How?”

“It wasn’t apple seeds,” he said firmly. “Why do you still care about this? I told you we weren’t investigating you.”

“You might have ruled me out, but my coworkers and the press haven’t. I need to help you until this is solved. I need to protect myself and my staff.”

He studied me a moment. “Why don’t you let me do that?”

“I’m not a victim. I can’t sit and wait to be rescued.”

“Right.”

“What?” I asked and put my hands on my hips.

“Wondering when you’re going to learn to trust me.”

“Maybe the day you start accepting my help. People tell me things, you know. Things they might not tell security or the cops. I can help.”

“And I can make a mean egg salad,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean you want me in your kitchen.”

I pursed my lips. “Point taken.”

“But it’s not going to stop you from investigating, is it?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nope,” I said. “Not until my name is cleared.”

“I figured. How about we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?”

“You don’t go talking to dangerous people, and I’ll listen when you bring me your ideas.”

“Who do you consider dangerous?”

“Anyone who might hurt you.”

I laughed. “I’ll try to stay clear of people with weapons. Fair?”

“Fair enough.”