Chapter 29

“I can’t believe the chefs confronted you,” Penny said. It was after dinner, and I had sent Agnes home. Penny sat in her usual spot in the kitchen.

“I feel stupid,” I said. “They both had solid alibies for Chef Wright’s killing and even Wentworth’s murder. Chef Theilman was really mad. He said that my questioning him and other people on the staff meant that the most likely person to replace Chef Wright would be an outsider.”

Penny winced. “I suppose I could see that.”

“You’re a friend of Evie’s, right?”

“Sure, at least I think so. Why?”

“Did you know that Chef Wright was no longer able to have children?”

“What?”

“Yes, I guess it’s rather common knowledge that he had a vasectomy. It must be why Mrs. Wright isn’t beside herself with anger at Evie. She must figure that a paternity suit will soon enough prove Evie’s claim to be false.”

“You think all she has to do is wait for the baby to come and the lawsuit will go away?”

“That would be my guess. It’s why she seemed so calm at the memorial. She must think Evie is off her rocker.”

“Maybe Evie is.” Penny widened her eyes. “Do you think Evie is fake pregnant?”

“What?”

“You know, fake pregnant. Where it’s all in the woman’s head. There is no baby but they have all the symptoms.”

“Now you’re just being silly,” I said with a tsk. “That doesn’t really happen, does it?”

“Yes, it does,” Penny said. “It’s a mental disorder.”

“Well, after the memorial service, I can believe that Evie has some kind of mental disorder. Who does that?”

“Do you think they’ll suspend her from work?” Penny asked.

“I don’t know. Did she really do anything wrong?”

“Hmm, I suppose not,” Penny said. “Unless she actually did kill someone.”

“Why would she want to kill the man she claims she’s in love with?”

“Maybe because he didn’t love her back,” Penny suggested.

I remained skeptical. “She doesn’t have any motive to kill Wentworth or poison Butterbottom.”

“We may have two killers.”

“The chefs have iron-clad alibies. That leaves Lord Heavington. But he has an alibi.”

“Unless he hired a hit man.” I rubbed my head. We seemed to be going round and round.

“Why would a hitman kill someone with poison? I mean, I suppose they could have made him bite a cyanide capsule, but those don’t exist anymore, and why would they put poison in the pie?”

“I think we’ll never solve this thing. What we have is one murder by poison, one attempted poisoning, and one murder by stabbing, which is not the same. If we had two killers, who would they be? We’ve cleared everyone.”

“Don’t they have video footage from inside the kitchen?” Penny asked.

“No,” I said. “They didn’t think they needed it. Everyone with access to the kitchen has to use their palace ID. The electronic ID log only shows Wentworth going into the kitchen by himself that night.”

“He had to let someone in,” Penny said. “So it was someone he knew and trusted.”

“Someone who had regular access to the kitchen so that they could put poison in the meringue and pass it off as mine.”

“Maybe it was someone who had access to your kitchen and the Orangery kitchen,” Penny suggested.

“No,” I said with a frown. “That would only be me. Agnes had the day off.”

“Right,” Penny stood and stretched. “Come on then, let’s off to bed. Tomorrow is your big date and you want to get some sleep so that you look your best.”

Penny was right. I did want to look my best. After our last date, I wanted to put my best foot forward.

*   *   *

“I heard the chefs had a talk with you,” Agnes said as we made breakfast the next morning.

“Wow, information gets around fast,” I said as I made fruit salad. Today’s breakfast was eggs, beans, muffins, and fruit salad.

Agnes laughed. “It’s a small community. How do you think they knew you suspected them of the murders?”

“I didn’t think I told anyone but Ian.”

“And Penny and I were here. People talk, dear.”

“Then someone should know who killed Wentworth and who killed Chef Wright. Chef Wright was murdered in a freezer while people worked all around him, for goodness sakes. Someone saw something.”

“People tend to live in their own little bubble,” Agnes advised. “We all have our own drama.”

That got my attention. “What drama do you have?” I realized I didn’t know that much about Agnes. “Is your granddaughter okay?”

“Yes, my granddaughter is doing fine, thank you for thinking of her. But my son has been diagnosed with bone cancer.”

“What? No!” I stopped what I was doing and went to hug her. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need time off? Are you okay?”

“I’ve put in my notice,” Agnes said. “Emailed it to the office this morning.” She hugged me back. “I thought you should hear it from me. I enjoyed working with you these last few weeks, but my children and grandchildren come first, you see.”

“No, I fully understand. When did this happen? How long have you known?”

“He hasn’t been feeling well for the last six months. The doctors were stumped. They kept doing all kinds of tests. Finally, last night they called my son and his wife in to discuss the results.”

I swallowed hard. “What is the plan of care? Can they cure him?”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “They said it would be a battle. I’m going to move in with them and watch the kids. That way they can make appointments and emergency doctor’s visits and all the things that go with the diagnoses.”

I grabbed a tissue from the box near the sink and handed it to her. “Please sit down. Let me get you some tea.”

“But the breakfast—”

“Is done. I’ll run it up to the family.” I poured tea into her cup. “Please sit here and take a moment. I’ll be right back down and we can talk about this.”

“Thank you, Chef,” Agnes said. “I didn’t realize how heavily it was weighing on me.”

I grabbed the tissue box and placed it beside her. “Please, stay here. I’ll be back shortly.”

I loaded up the warming dishes and the food onto a mobile tray and took it up to the family’s dining room. It was hard not to berate myself the entire time. Agnes was right. I had been caught up in my own little world. I didn’t even know her son was sick. I barely knew she had children. It was an assumption on my part since she had asked for an early evening to go see her granddaughter’s class program.

Kicking myself for not paying closer attention to my coworker, I realized that Agnes was right. It was easy to overlook someone you worked with side by side every day.

That opened a whole world of possibilities when it came to the killer. After all, Wentworth and Chef Wright worked with the same people.

I set up breakfast and went back to the kitchen. Agnes sipped her tea. Her eyes were puffy and her face thoughtful. “I’m sorry, chef,” she said when I entered the kitchen. “I shouldn’t bring my private life into the kitchen.”

“Why ever not?” I asked. “My goodness, I spend more time with you than anyone. I should know about your life.”

“Is that so that you don’t feel guilty?” she asked with knowing eyes. “It’s all right. You don’t have to know about me.”

“Yes, I do.” I laid my hand on hers. “I need to apologize for being so myopic. Is your son your only child?”

“I have a daughter as well. She is in York working as a marketing manager for some internet company. She’s going to get married next year.” Her eyes sparkled with tears. “My son is here in London. He is going to try to work through all the treatments. His wife also works for a financial corporation. She has built up holiday time, but they really need an extra hand. The doctors told them there would be times when things might not go as planned through the treatment. So they asked me to help them out.”

“Of course, I’m glad that you are able to do that. How are you today?”

“I’m shaken, I suppose. I don’t know what will happen. I know that I will lose my income because I need to stop working and be there for the children, but that isn’t important. What is important is getting my son well.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

She smiled wistfully. “Will you be a good reference when I return to work?”

“Of course, of course,” I said, and I meant it. “You are an excellent chef. Can we be friends? Will you keep in touch and let me know about your son and your grandchildren?”

“I can do that.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I know you gave two-week’s notice, but I think you should take that time to do what your family needs to prepare for this big change. I can handle things here.”

“Thanks, but I need my pay.”

“Then let’s keep your hours to a minimum,” I said. “We’ll have you go home after lunch. Is that okay?”

“Thank you, Chef,” she said. “You are a good friend.”

“If not a bit selfish,” I gave her a big hug. Here I was concerned about my big date and the investigation to clear my name, but it seemed so small compared to what Agnes was facing.

“Well, enough self-pity.” Agnes brushed away her tears. “Let’s start on lunch. I’ll pick the vegetables from the garden and have them prepped and ready.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You are amazing.”

“Stop it. I’m just doing my job while I have it.”

“It will be here when you are ready to come back,” I said.

“Oh no, you will find someone else to work with, but that is fine. I know I’ll always have a place in one kitchen or another at the palace.”

Her years of working at the palace told me she was right.