Chapter Four
Sarah sat Indian-style on the floor of her apartment. At three thirty in the morning, she was happy to let Emily, in a borrowed oxford cloth shirt and rolled-up jeans, check out her refrigerator while she stroked her Siamese cat’s soft fur. Although RahRah’s purr wasn’t audible, contentment vibrated through his body.
Emily tightened the towel wrapped around her wet hair. “It was great Harlan convinced Peter to deal with Jane tonight, or should I say this morning, and let me come back at ten to give my statement.” She peered into the refrigerator. “Spaghetti, nail polish, eggs . . . don’t you ever go grocery shopping?”
“I’ve been meaning to make a run.”
“Well, I’m starved. Let’s see what I can do with what you have.” Emily pulled a carton of eggs from the refrigerator and checked its date stamp. “Great. By the way, these passed their last day to be sold two weeks ago.” She rummaged farther in the refrigerator. “Do you have any kale or spinach?”
Sarah couldn’t believe Emily was more worried about food dates and healthy eating than the fact Bill was dead. Maybe she was traumatized? Perhaps she was avoiding talking about Bill’s death for another reason? After all, Emily was the one who found Bill, and she’d never shied away from voicing her opinion of him during Sarah’s divorce. Perhaps she was afraid of being Peter’s prime suspect.
“Em,” Sarah said, “we’ve got to talk about tonight. Why were you at the Civic Center so late?”
“To meet Bill. He is . . . was chairman of the Civic Center.”
Sarah fought not to roll her eyes. She might have divorced Bill, but she hadn’t lost track of his roles with the Economic Development Council and Civic Center. “That doesn’t explain why you were there so late to meet him.”
Emily opened another drawer in the refrigerator. “Do you have any vegetables?”
“They’re on my list.” Sarah watched her sister examine the milk and cheese packaging for their expiration dates. She wondered how long Emily would delay addressing her question. Sarah’s efficiency apartment didn’t have much room beyond the refrigerator for Emily to hide.
“Is my food safe?”
“Barely, but I think we have enough for me to whip up an omelet.”
“You should be thrilled you found more than spaghetti and nail polish in there. Besides, you got a shower and you didn’t have to go home and explain to Mom what you’ve been doing tonight. You know she would demand every last detail.”
“Point taken, except your last argument is moot. Mom left yesterday for that Mexican spa. Can you imagine spending a week in a place without Internet, news, or telephones?”
Sarah instinctively glanced at her cell phone on the floor next to RahRah. “No, I can’t.” She pulled RahRah closer. “Then again, I’m not sure I want to see the local news.”
“Me either.” Emily hesitated. “Nothing about tonight seems real.”
She began bustling around the kitchen. “Why are you still sitting there? I thought you said you were hungry, too.” She went back to the refrigerator searching for another ingredient.
Sarah sighed. Her sister was the queen of avoidance. “RahRah and I are staying out of your way so you can do your Julia Child/Rachael Ray thing.” RahRah jumped up onto her shoulder and draped himself around the back of Sarah’s neck. “So are you going to tell me what happened tonight?”
“I wish I knew,” Emily muttered from back in the depths of the refrigerator. “Even though it’s too early for him to know anything for sure, Peter said Bill apparently ate a forkful of rhubarb crisp that killed him.”
“That doesn’t prove Bill was murdered.”
“I agree. Besides, if rhubarb crisp is what killed him, it couldn’t have been mine. It would have had to be someone else’s. You know as well as I do, Bill never touched my rhubarb crisp because I always use nuts in the recipe.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell Peter the same thing. After all, I was married to Bill for enough years to know which of your recipes he wouldn’t go near.”
“Thanks. I hope you don’t have to vouch for me.” Emily leaned against the now-closed refrigerator and used her free hand to tuck an escaping strand of blond hair back under her towel turban.
“To tell you the truth, I have a bad feeling about this,” Emily said. “The way Peter looked at me when I told him about someone else being in the Civic Center was like he was humoring me. I’m telling you, he believes I killed Bill.”
“Aw, come on. That’s not like Peter. He’s always been a fair guy.” She yawned and stared at her twin. “Is there some reason for Peter to suspect you?”
“Absolutely not.”
“What about what Jane was accusing you of? Rifling through records? Bill being able to somehow get you kicked out of the Expo and fired from Southwind?”
Emily frowned. “Sarah, Southwind and this expo are important to my career. You know how much I’ve been looking forward to the next four days. It’s more important than ever because if I don’t make a good impression with my food, Jane or one of the other Southwind cooks has a chance to slip past me for the sous chef spot that recently opened.”
Sarah watched her sister put a frying pan on the burner. If winning the competition and showing well was so important to selecting the next sous chef, who could say the rat wouldn’t have tried to interfere on behalf of his bimbo. “You know, if Peter thinks you felt Bill somehow stood in the way of you advancing your career, he might view that as a motive for murder.”
“Surely Peter knows I’d never kill over a job.”
Sarah flipped her left palm up in an “I don’t know” gesture.
“Crap.” Emily opened the partially filled egg carton. “If Peter suspects me, he’ll probably want to question me for more than a few minutes today. With the Expo opening Friday night, today, I need to get things ready at the Civic Center and at the restaurant instead of being stuck at the police station.”
She took an egg from the carton. “We have to find him someone else to investigate.”
“And how do you propose we do that? I don’t think I’ve seen this scenario on any of the TV shows I’ve watched recently.”
Using one hand, Emily cracked the first egg into a bowl. She tossed the shell back into the egg container and started to reach for another egg but stopped. “The Civic Center is the most logical place for us to start looking for another suspect.”
Sarah didn’t quite follow Emily’s reasoning, but she waited for her sister to explain.
“Bill died there, so that’s the first place for us to look for answers. Between giving my statement to Peter and prepping for the Food Expo, I won’t have much time to snoop around, but you could.”
Sarah started to protest, but Emily kept talking.
From experience, Sarah knew Emily’s flushed face and rushed words were dead giveaways the wheels of her brain were whirling. “It’s simple. I know you must work today and tomorrow, but after work Friday and for the rest of the weekend, you can pretend to be my assistant. That way, no one will question you being anywhere in the Expo area.”
Emily’s assistant? Was she kidding? “Em, I’m a true believer in being a supportive sister, but you know me when it comes to the kitchen. Don’t you remember my wedding shower? My friends subtitled it ‘Can She Identify What’s in the Box?’ When I opened the beautiful floral print paper plates and napkins and held them up, you were the one who quipped, ‘Oh, look. She got her good china.’”
“Don’t worry. You won’t be cooking. Much. Just pretending to help. It will be easy. All you have to do is fake a few things.”
A feeling of doom joined the hunger pains in Sarah’s stomach. She extricated herself from RahRah and washed her hands, hoping whatever Emily was concocting for the demonstration really didn’t require much time in the Expo kitchen but, in case, Sarah said a prayer she wouldn’t accidently blow the Civic Center up with her culinary skills. “Perhaps we should rethink this. I could probably snoop better in a trench coat than an apron.”
“No, it’s foolproof. Everyone knows the Southwind staff is stretched thin between the restaurant and the Expo, so nobody will be suspicious I asked you to help out in our booth.”
“Maybe not, but they’re going to question your sanity level when they see how I function in the kitchen. Have you forgotten that while Mom was teaching you to cook, I was watching Perry Mason? I only visited the kitchen to empty the dishwasher during the first commercial, set the table during the second, and eat dinner right after the confession.”
“Not a problem.” Emily held an egg out toward Sarah. “I’ll tell them you need a little extra cash and this is my way of helping you out.”
“How saintly.” Sarah didn’t take the egg. She didn’t want to admit the truth behind Emily’s statement. If she hoped to go back to school, even part-time, anything she could squirrel away would help.
“Really, it’s a perfect cover. You’ll be able to move around freely during the Expo.”
“Why don’t I just wear a sign: ‘I’ll Work for Food or Money’?”
“Don’t be silly.” Emily proffered the egg again. “Folks know things have been tight for you since your divorce, so they won’t be surprised I’m giving you a part-time job. They’ll be too busy whispering behind your back to consider you’re snooping. Now, take this egg. You need to learn how to break it with one hand.”
“Huh? Two has always worked for me.”
“Two isn’t as fast and doesn’t look professional.” Emily gave the egg in her hand to Sarah and selected another one from the box. “First, grasp it with all of your fingers. No, look at how I’m putting my fingers. My thumb and first finger are holding one end while my second and third fingers press the other end into the heel of my palm.”
She held her egg so Sarah could mimic her motions but jumped back as Sarah squeezed her egg so tightly it burst across the counter. “Em, if I can’t even break an egg, how will I convince anyone I’m a cook? Maybe I need another cover?”
Emily tore off a piece of paper towel and cleaned up Sarah’s mess. “Don’t worry. We have enough eggs for you to learn this.”
Sarah carefully hit another egg against the edge of the frying pan. A broken line appeared in it.
“That’s good,” Emily said. “Now, without moving your thumb and index finger ease the egg apart on both sides of the crack and let the yolk drop into this bowl.”
Sarah pressed her lips together. She released them into a smile as her yolk fell perfectly into the bowl. “That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
“Of course it wasn’t. Now try again.”
Sarah made a face but picked up another egg.
Emily turned a chair from the table so she could sit astride it and watch Sarah work.
“Why did Bill ask you to meet him so late? Why not Chef Marcus?”
Emily got up and turned her back toward Sarah as she filled a measuring cup with water from the sink.
“Em?”
“Southwind has the Civic Center contract, but Chef Marcus made me the liaison between the restaurant and the Civic Center. Tonight, when Bill phoned and told me there was a problem at the Civic Center, it was my job to respond.”
Emily put the measuring cup near Sarah’s bowl of eggs. She looked down and ran her finger around the cup’s rim. She finally raised her eyes to meet Sarah’s gaze. “Like I told Harlan at the police station, Chef Marcus ran into financial difficulties and Bill bailed him out in exchange for a partnership interest. He also pulled the strings for Southwind to receive the Civic Center’s catering contract.”
Sarah stopped, letting the white drip from the egg she’d just cracked. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell me? Did it slip your mind?” She dropped the egg in her hand into the trash and wiped her hand on her jeans.
“I didn’t know Bill was involved with Southwind when I first came back.” Emily poured a drop of water from the measuring cup into the bowl with the eggs. “By the way, always add a dash of water. The steam of the water will rise when it cooks, making the eggs light and airy.”
Sarah stared at her twin. She could feel steam rising somewhere besides the frying pan. “You may not have known when you took the job, but you obviously found out a while ago.”
Emily didn’t say or do anything to deny Sarah’s accusation.
“Once you knew, how could you work at a restaurant funded by Bill? I thought, after my divorce, your loyalty was to me.”
“It was and still is. Honestly, by the time I knew, it didn’t seem important.” She busied herself pouring the egg mixture into the pan, adding cheese and finishing their omelet. Dividing the finished omelet in two, Emily placed the portions on two plates. “Salt and pepper to your taste.”
As Emily swallowed a forkful of her omelet, Sarah put her plate back on the counter. Not important? How could Emily act so casually when Sarah felt so betrayed? “I still don’t understand why you never told me.”
“For just this reason. I didn’t want to upset you. Plus, I was afraid if you knew Chef Marcus sold Bill a piece of the action to pay off his debts and they planned to move Southwind from the shopping center into one of the old houses on Main Street, you’d ask me to quit. By that point, I loved Southwind and didn’t want to leave.”
A tear slipped down Emily’s cheek. “Honestly, if I’d known Bill was part of the operation when I was offered the job, I wouldn’t have touched it with a ten-foot pole.”
Emily pointed at Sarah’s plate. “Your eggs are going to get cold.”
Sarah picked up her fork and swallowed a forkful of omelet. She understood her sister’s motivation, but something bothered her. She thought for a minute and then realized it was the repeated use of the word honestly. If someone told you his actions were honest, her father taught her, you could bet something wasn’t on the up-and-up.