Chapter 9
The sponsors’ tent was jammed when Burke entered. Most people were checking out the buffet tables. Feeling hungry, Burke joined them, grabbing a plate and piling several tapas on it. He took one bite of a piece of toasted baquette topped with a slice of ham, one egg and a sprinkling of some spices. The taste was explosive.
“It’s the seasoning, you know, Seῆor Burke,” came a nearby voice.
Burke thought he recognized the smooth Spanish accent. Turning, he saw it belonged to José López, the 70ish gentleman he’d chatted with the night before at the Templar castle.
“It’s nice to see you again, Seῆor López,” Burke said shaking hands with the older man.
“And you as well. I see you’re enjoying some of our tapas.”
“This is my first and it’s delicious. It has a lot more taste than I would have guessed.”
“My partner in the catering firm is Chef Andres and he’s a big believer in adding extra flavour.”
“I can’t place the dominant seasoning in this tapa, though,” Burke said, studying what was left of his baquette.
“It’s saffron.”
“Really? I thought it was only used for paella and a couple of other rice dishes,” said Burke who was hardly an expert on culinary matters but had some knowledge thanks to Hélène’s coaching.
“It usually is, but Chef Andres likes to add saffron to some other dishes and tapas. Few other chefs would do it, though, especially since saffron is the world’s most expensive spice. It costs more, but I don’t complain to the chef. We’re doing well enough.”
Burke knew about the price of saffron because Hélène frequently mentioned she’d like to use more of it, but it was too expensive and difficult to obtain.
“You enjoy good food, Seῆor,” Burke said.
“I do,” López said. “But I never make any suggestions to Chef Andres. He’s a culinary artist of the first rank.”
“Where is the chef?”
“Working in the back, but he’ll be out soon. Andres enjoys mingling with people who tell him how great he is.”
Burke saw a sly smile on López ‘s face. It seemed the older man didn’t mind being partners with the celebrated chef, but wasn’t impressed by Andres’ ego.
Then Burke thought about his friend Claude back in southern France who would enjoy being there with him. Claude, who was also Hélène’s uncle, operated a successful catering firm out of Nice. He was also a superb culinary talent and always interested in exchanging ideas with another professional chef.
“It would be interesting to talk with Chef Andres,” Burke said.
“If I see him, I’ll introduce you to him,” López said. “Now, tell me who is going to win today’s stage?”
“Good question,” Burke said. “It will end in a bunch sprint.”
“Of course.”
“There are a lot of good sprinters, but if I was to choose one, I’d go with Giancarlo Mantello, the Italian. He’s shown some very good form.”
“I agree. He’s my pick as well.”
Burke nodded.
“I should mention, Seῆor Burke, that I am sorry to hear about the tragic death of your colleague Colin Bothwick,” the older man said. “I just read about what happened.”
“Thank you.”
“It had to be a terrible surprise. He goes out for a leisurely ride and ends up being run over.”
Burke nodded. He couldn’t add anything to what López had said.
“I hope the police find who hit him,” López added.
“I do, too.”
“Anyway, I know you have limited time and so I’ll wish you a successful telecast today, Seῆor Burke.”
The two men shook hands once more and López drifted off. Burke finished his tapas and started toward the exit. Before he reached it, Nico Menard showed up and pulled him aside.
“Paul, we need to go to the booth. Suzanne wants us there early. She’s decided to put together a short spot on Colin Bothwick since the media are giving his death more coverage than expected. She wants us to provide some commentary.”
Burke nodded.
Colin Bothwick was gone. But he hadn’t left them.