Wealthy women who couldn't hold their liquor always rubbed Heather the wrong way. She offered a silent expression of thanks for Steve extracting information from Carol while she made her way back to Chef Aubert's domain of pots, pans, and all things culinary.
Chef Aubert looked up when she entered his space where copper and stainless steel gleamed. The smile on his face spread, then disappeared. "Tout va bien?"
She joined him in speaking his native tongue. "All is well, Chef. I came back to help you prepare lunch."
"Wonderful! There's an apron in the cabinet by the window. The baguettes are ready to take from the oven and the croissants can go in. It will be a simple lunch of soup, salads, and sandwiches. The bodyguards will come in here two at a time. The family, you, Mr. Smiley, and Mr. Butch will eat in the dining room."
Heather closed the oven door. "What else can I do, Chef?"
"Are you familiar with a salade Niçoise?"
Heather searched her memory. "Tuna, green beans, potatoes, tomato wedges, sliced boiled eggs, onions, and capers on a bed of lettuce."
"Excellent. Prepare two salads separate for Tim and Tammy Green. They're vegetarian, so substitute garbanzo beans for the tuna."
"How do you want the presentation?"
"Long plates with the ingredients separate for the family. They’ll eat in the dining room." He waved a dismissing hand. "For the men who will eat in here, don’t worry about presentation. Mix the ingredients in a large bowl. You could put the food in a trough and they wouldn't care." He pointed to one of three commercial refrigerators. "I did some of the preparation this morning, but you'll find everything in that one."
Heather looked until she found everything necessary to chop, slice, open, and have ready to plate when it was closer to noon. Frequent glances at her progress told her the chef was keeping a close eye on the progress. The absence of words showed he approved.
The chef took a large ham from the middle refrigerator and slapped it on a cutting board. Quick strokes of a knife against a steel preceded him slicing off paper-thin wafers of meat. While they worked on opposite sides of a large stainless-steel table, Heather wondered if he would talk and slice at the same time. Only one way to find out.
"Chef, you said Tim and Tammy Green are vegetarians. That seems odd if Tim comes from a family in the oil business. Oil men are known for their love of red meat, especially in Texas. I thought all the Greens would eat rare steaks at least twice a day."
He wagged his knife at her like it was an extension of his index finger. "That would be how Mr. Sid liked his before his doctors put him on a soft, mainly liquid diet."
"How about Howard?" she said. "Does he like steaks?"
"Medium rare." He looked up from the mound of shaved ham. "I never thought of it before, but Howard is the only big meat eater in the house." He shook his head. "There's also Carol. She enjoys Châteaubriand from time to time."
The flow of conversation encouraged her to dig deeper. "Next in line is Tim; you said no meat for him. How did he get along with his mother? Were he and Lucy close?"
The chef held out his hand and wiggled it side to side. "I think you'll find none of the family are what you'd call close. Tim and his wife march to the beat of a different drummer. You'll see what I'm talking about when you have lunch with them today." He winked. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise when they all gather at the table."
"All of them are here today?"
"All but Howard and the youngest, Chad. He's a fine young man. You'll like him. He loved to help me cook before he went to college. Now he's getting married, and it feels like I'm losing a son, and a daughter."
"A daughter? Who would that be?"
Chef Aubert put down his knife. "Anna Webber. They grew up together and were constantly under my feet."
"What about the feud?"
Chef Aubert seemed to look back in time to fond memories. "No matter how hard the families tried, those two found ways to get together. Punishment only made their desire to be with each other stronger. Their mothers soon gave up, but not Howard. He hated little Anna and still does."
"What about Mr. Sid?"
A wide smile crossed Aubert's face. "Anna wore him down. She hugged him into accepting her. Now he's her biggest ally, even though he still can't stand Frau Webber."
Heather thought about what it must have been like to grow up surrounded by such bitterness.
"Did Anna get along with Lucy?"
"As well as could be expected. Lucy changed toward her over time, ignoring the rantings of Howard and their son, Tim. Enough talk," said the chef. Heather figured he must have realized the time and how much work remained to be done. "Check the croissants. If they're burned, you'll have to start over."
This was what Heather expected from a French chef. She'd need to put any additional conversations about family on the back burner and focus on the meal before he banished her from his kitchen.
* * *
At ten minutes until noon, the chef instructed Heather to stop plating salads for the family. Her last act of service to the chef was setting the tables, both in the formal dining room and the kitchen. As she placed the silverware, Chef Aubert said, "Lucy made sure the home ran like clockwork, which included hiring and dismissing the staff. Sylvia Lopez, along with her other duties, is responsible for serving meals. She hasn’t rejoined us yet, so I'm still responsible for three meals a day and snacks."
While Aubert finished the dishes, Heather took her seat in the dining room beside Steve. Sid was the first to speak. "Why isn't Sylvia here helping Chef Aubert?"
Tim Green spoke up. "I thought Daddy told you. She starts tomorrow."
Carol added with slurred speech, "And Daddy is grieving the death of his beloved wife Lucy so deeply, he couldn't trouble himself with telling one of the other maids to help Chef Aubert." The sarcasm sounded like it came from a 1930s melodrama.
Sid looked at Butch, who sat at his right hand. "Get one of your men to help serve."
Butch nodded, and pressed one of the bodyguards standing against a wall into service as an impromptu waiter to help serve salads. Aubert wasn't smiling as he had to cope with an untrained helper. His mood soured even more when Tammy let out a squeal at what the bodyguard delivered. "Is this some sort of dead animal in my salad?"
Aubert rushed to take the plate from her. "Sorry, Madame Tammy. You received the wrong salad. I'll bring your vegetarian Niçoise and take this back to the kitchen."
"I'll skip the salad course," said Tammy with a flick of her wrist "All I can think about is how that poor tuna should swim wild and free in the open ocean."
"Bologna," said Sid. "The only reason you turned vegetarian is because you packed away so much pork your cardiologist told you to forget about outliving me."
"That's not fair," said Tim, coming to the defense of his wife.
Tammy took the last bite of a croissant and buttered a large slice of baguette. "Thank you, Tim, darling. It's just the ranting of a senile old man."
Carol took a drink from the glass she brought to the table. It looked like water with a slice of lime, but had the smell of gin. She looked at her sister-in-law. "Come on, Tammy. Tell us why you really went vegetarian. I heard it's because your spiritual adviser told you the tarot cards recommended it."
"That's enough out of you, sister," said Tim. "Spiritual enlightenment isn't something to be made fun of or toyed with. There's great power in the unseen.”
"Double bologna," said Sid, as he let out a huff of exasperation. "I didn't come to the table today to hear a bunch of overgrown children take pot shots at each other. We have things to discuss, so let's all show some respect to each other and our guests."
Sid nodded to Butch, who stood and addressed the family. "The day after tomorrow, the limousines will arrive at one-thirty. They'll take us directly to the church. Howard, Mr. Sid, and I will be in the first limo. Tim, Tammy, and Carol will be in the second. Chad and Anna Webber will be in the third."
"I object," said Tim. "Chad is our son and he should be with me and Tammy. He may have received your permission to be tied to that Webber creature, but I never consented to it. I know my father doesn't want her at Mother's funeral, and neither do I."
Sid slapped his hand on the table so hard it rattled the dishes. "This isn't up for discussion. On Christmas day, Chad will marry Anna and there's nothing you or Howard can, or will, do to stop it. Consider this an opportunity to put the past behind us."
Tim stood and threw his napkin on his plate. "How can you say that when my mother's killer is living next door? We all know who sent that bottle of poisoned wine, and the police aren't doing anything to make the Webbers account for killing her." He pointed a shaky finger at Sid. "I mean it, Grandfather, I'll not have any of the Webbers at Mother's funeral."
Sid glared at Tim. If it took a lot to wind Tim up to speaking his mind, it took less for Sid's emotional kettle to shriek. Years of negotiating deals and managing wildcat oil rigs showed when he lowered his voice. "Sit down, little man. You have granola between your ears instead of brains. Karl and Ingrid Webber had no reason to kill your mother. It's me they're after, and have been ever since Peter Webber shot me. He thought he'd killed me, but I was too mean to give him that satisfaction. They've never forgiven me for making the deal that made us all rich. " Sid struggled to catch his breath.
Tammy spoke up. "Ignore him, darling. Like I said earlier, the rantings of a senile old man. Sid's mental acuity isn't sufficient to decide who should attend Lucy's funeral."
Carol joined the fray. “Let’s forget about the funeral for a while. I think Christmas would be the perfect time to get an increase in our stipends. Tim and Tammy agree, don’t you?”
Sid shook his head and his face reddened. “It's always about money with you three. More is never enough. Keep pushing me and I'll teach you a lesson about greed you’ll never forget."
Carol spoke into her glass as if it were a microphone. "He's bluffing. We've heard this speech before, but he probably doesn't remember giving it."
Butch reached behind Sid, turned on the oxygen tank and moved to place the plastic mask on the patriarch. Sid pushed the device away and spoke around halting breaths. He fixed his eyes on the family members one at a time. "Listen close, because I'm only going to say this once. You'll act like perfect ladies and gentleman to Anna Webber at the funeral, or I'll cut you off without a cent." He turned to Butch. "Call my lawyer and tell him I want a new will prepared in case anyone doesn't believe me. I'll cut you off and send you all out to earn a living."
"You wouldn't dare," said Tim.
Sid slumped over and Butch put the oxygen mask on him. "I need to get Mr. Sid back to his room. Call his doctor."
Sid's head lolled to the side as Butch picked him up without effort and another bodyguard grabbed the oxygen bottle off the back of the wheelchair.
Heather scanned the faces at the table. Steve sat perfectly still, his expression giving up nothing. Tim had his eyes closed, massaging his eyebrows. Tammy took out her cell phone and announced she'd call the family’s doctor.
Heather wondered if Sid meant what he said about cutting off anyone who didn't live up to his expectations at the funeral.
Steve asked, "Is that the first time Sid has threatened you with your inheritance?"
"What business is that of yours?" asked Tim.
Heather could tell by Steve’s sudden change of posture that Tim made a mistake in giving a surly answer. "Ms. McBlythe and I are here to find out who killed your mother. To do that, we must get to know each of you. We answer to Sid, not to anyone else. We just witnessed each of you push a sick, elderly man to the brink of death, and you don't seem sorry about it. It makes us wonder if this family isn't eager to see another member of this household pass on, especially since Sid announced his will might change."
"That's crazy talk," said Carol, whose words came out as if the only thing she'd had to drink all day was orange juice. "We may hiss at each other, but we rarely scratch and never enough to break the skin."
Heather added, "You'd better hope Sid's condition isn't fatal. The police could arrest each of you on a charge of involuntary manslaughter if he dies. At the very least, you could be arrested for elderly abuse."
Steve stood and added, "Heather and I will meet with each of you individually the day after the funeral. As for now, we'll leave you to grieve Lucy. And to consider how foolish you are in pushing Sid to his grave. We're in daily contact with the police and will file a full report on your conduct today."
Once in the car Steve fastened his seatbelt and turned to Heather. "How 'bout we stop and get a hamburger, fries, and a shake? I'm not sure what ratatouille tastes like, but I wasn't looking forward to finding out."
Heather chuckled. "What about the rest of the day?"
"We'll do what we said we'd do. Write a full report and email it to Leo. He'll probably call us and ask for details.”
"It seems one of the most important things we learned was the wine came from an outside source. Perhaps Kirby and Ayana can track it down." Heather hesitated. "What else can we do today?"
"Think, rest, and wait for Bella to send us a text tonight. I hope the Webber household isn't as crazy as this one."