Chapter Eight

Letting myself into the rear entrance of the restaurant, I recoiled. The air smelled stale, and the nose-wrinkling scent of leftover food permeated the entire space. By now, the kitchen should have smelled strongly of disinfectant, thanks to the cleaners, but with the prolonged police presence and now, lacking any customers, I had to cancel their services for the next few days.

Flicking on the lights, I set to work quickly, emptying the refrigerator of any produce that was no longer viable before tossing all of it into the trash cans. Fortunately, there wasn't too much waste as I'd only stocked enough to cover Sunday's diners. I had already placed a fresh order for Tuesday morning and would have to cancel that too. The cancellations were extensive and I couldn't help blaming the Calendar Times headline for stirring up unrest. Of course, I couldn't blame the potential guests. I wouldn't want to eat at a restaurant where someone had possibly been poisoned by the head chef either.

Slamming the door of the walk-in refrigerator, I turned my attention to the kitchen. Jack, Melody and I were summarily forced to abandon our work stations when it happened and now, the food debris had wilted and gone stale. Everything was still exactly as we left it. Taking a deep breath, I set to the tasks at hand, throwing the trash away and trying not to feel sad when they included all of Jack's beautiful pastries and desserts. I swept and sprayed the work stations clean, setting the growing pile of trash by the door to throw into the dumpsters out back.

I didn't want to go into the dining room but I forced myself all the same. I couldn't leave the mess in there any longer. It was like the Marie Celeste inside. Glasses left half filled, bottles abandoned in melted ice buckets, plates and flatware forgotten and hastily abandoned. Someone left a jacket and I hung it beside the hostess station. The pockets were empty so I couldn't identify the owner but I figured someone would have to notice it was missing eventually.

Trying to avoid the area where Edwin fell, I moved quickly, carrying as many plates as I could at one time, and depositing them onto my work station before returning for more. It wasn't the way I normally liked the post-dining clean-up to be orchestrated but at least, it was finally getting done.

By the time I finished, every table had been cleared and all the used glassware, flatware, and plates were loaded into the industrial-sized dishwasher, ready for its first cycle. There would be a second load, of course, and quite possibly a third, but I would deal with those later. I began to grab the table linens and napkins, throwing them into a pile by the kitchen door, ready for the linen company to take them away for laundering. It was an additional cost that ate into my profits but the fancily pressed linens looked very smart and the laundry service was nothing less than efficient. Besides, there was no way I could wash and iron all the linens myself on top of running the business and working in it.

Unable to avoid the area anymore, I grabbed the tablecloth from Edwin's table and tossed it onto the gathering pile. A flash of pink made me turn back. A pink evening bag lay nestled under the table, forcing me to stoop in order to grab it. I hesitated to look inside anyone's purse but figured the owner would almost certainly want it back. I opened the flap and withdrew a small coin purse and a card holder. Inside was a driver’s license and a debit card. The license photo was of a woman in her forties with ash-blonde hair and narrow, green eyes. Her name was Sally O'Hara.

Of course! The same lady I'd mistaken for Edwin's wife. Sally O'Hara was his dining companion and must have lost her purse during the commotion. When the paramedics arrived, I lost track of what happened to her. I wanted to talk to her and now, I had the perfect excuse to do it. Instead of taking the purse to the hostess station, I carried it into the kitchen, placing it next to my jacket.

Back in the dining room, I vacuumed the floor, wiped down the tables and turned the sign on the door to "Closed", something no one else thought to do. Then I retreated back to the kitchen, glad that unpleasant business was over with. It would have been nice to lay the tables but the exertion was more than exhausting and I just couldn't do it.

I worked as quickly as I could in the kitchen, blitzing the work surfaces and stacking the pans and utensils in the dishwasher until finally, I was content with the cleanliness. As the dishwasher cycle ended and cooled, I unloaded it, putting all the plates away, ready for the next meal — whenever that would be — and reloaded it, switching it on again.

I took the pink purse and my jacket into my office, setting them down to deal with another task I hadn't looked forward to after this morning's messages. The reservations book was already a dismal display of red lines crossed through all the names. All but two tables had canceled for Tuesday. Every reservation for Wednesday and Thursday had also canceled and Friday and Saturday were only half full. That left me with a difficult decision: did I open the restaurant and cater to the small number of people who hadn't canceled—yet— or did I close for the entire week and hope that most of the people's memories were fleeting?

Tossing the pen I'd been chewing onto my desk, I leaned back in my chair and shut my eyes. Closing the restaurant was a big expense and I would have to use my savings to cover everyone's wages. Plus, there were the people who regularly depended on me like my produce guy, the butcher, the fishmonger, and even the laundry company. I could put them all off for a week but not indefinitely.

I glanced toward the pink purse. What did Jack say about learning everything I could about Edwin? With little else left to do at the restaurant, perhaps it was time I started to really examine Edwin's life. Detective Logan might not care about Belle Rose being ruined, along with my career and reputation, but I did!

I jettisoned the apron I'd worn over my clothes and pulled on my jacket, checking to be sure my cellphone was tucked snugly in my pocket. I took all the trash out the back door, then returned inside and locked the door securely. It was quicker to get to my apartment via the front door, so, with the pink bag in hand, I exited the restaurant and let myself into my apartment. Snatching my purse from the console, I hurried back out, jumping into my car.

Sally lived on Cedar Court, only two blocks from my parents' house. As I drove over, I tried to formulate a feasible plan. In my fantasy, the one which involved Sally gratefully receiving the bag before insisting that I come inside, she would instantly break down about her friend's death, revealing special details that the police would, no doubt, be very interested in.

By the time I pulled up outside the pretty ranch house that featured a mature oak in the garden and neat hedgerows bordering the garden and path, I was feeling more than a little confident.

The woman who answered the door was the same woman in the license photo. "I'm so sorry to bother you," I started, holding up her bag. "I found this and I think it's yours."

"It is! Where did you find it? I thought I lost it forever." Sally reached for it, her face lighting up. "It was a Christmas present from last year," she explained.

"I found it at Belle Rose," I said, deciding that honesty was the best way forwards. "I was cleaning there and I found it under one of the tables."

"You're a commercial cleaner?" she asked.

I paused, considering whether or not to lie, then decided not to. This was a small town and it was more than likely any lie would soon be discovered, plus, I had nothing to hide. "Uh, no. I'm Ally McKellar. I own the restaurant but I was tidying up after the investigation. I'm so sorry about your friend."

I expected her to slam the door in my face or yell at me to get lost, but instead, she gave me a weak smile. "I appreciate that. I can hardly believe Edwin is truly gone."

"Were you friends for a long time?"

"Yes, more than twenty years, and before you ask, we really were just friends, despite all the rumors."

"Oh?" I waited patiently, hoping for more.

"Just good friends," she clarified. "That's why we got along so well. Not many people could tolerate Edwin but we rubbed along rather nicely."

"We were all very sad that he passed away. Everyone at the restaurant," I clarified.

Sally raised her eyebrows. "You know, you're the first person who's said that and actually looked sincere. Do you have any updates regarding the police investigation?"

I shook my head. "No, but I'd like to talk to you about Edwin, that is, if you don't mind."

"I suppose not," she replied, standing back to let me in just as the wind began to pick up. "I haven't spoken to the police since that night so I don't know what else I can tell you." I followed Sally into a neat sitting room decorated with lots of flowers that made the whole atmosphere warmer and more cheerful.

"First of all, I want you to know that we never use any nuts at our restaurant," I told her. "I don't know how they could have gotten into his food if that's where he ingested them."

"I know. Edwin told me about your strict policy. He was very excited that somebody had, as he said, ‘the good sense to open a nut-free restaurant.’ He even intended to write a couple of nice lines about that, advocating that restaurateurs should be more accommodating to allergy sufferers, especially those who cannot tolerate nuts, which can be..." Sally trailed off. I didn't need to guess that the word she omitted was fatal.

"He intended to give Belle Rose a good review?" I asked, visibly surprised. That would probably have to be his first, judging by what I'd read.

Sally shook her head and laughed but it was a dejected sort of sound. "Oh, I doubt it. Edwin wasn't known for his adulation or praise."

"I keep hearing that, but I'm glad he was willing to say at least one nice line."

"I'm sure it wouldn't have come out all that nice," winced Sally. "I don't want to speak ill of my dearly departed friend but it's well known he had a little bit of an attitude problem."

"Do you have any idea how he could have ingested the nuts?"

"None. He was very careful with everything he ate. He had a couple of bad experiences while eating out so he became fastidious. He always made sure the restaurant knew he had an extreme allergy so that his food could never get contaminated and he always carried an Epi-pen. It couldn't save his life but certainly allow him enough time to get to someone who could help him." Sally paused, then fixed me with a direct look. "I told Detective Logan there was absolutely no way he would have knowingly eaten nuts."

"Could he have ingested some earlier in the day?" I asked, realizing it was a remote possibility.

"No, his symptoms started within minutes. He picked me up twenty minutes before we got to your restaurant and he didn't eat or drink anything at all in that time."

"I just don't understand it."

"I don't either. I've been thinking about it almost non-stop and I just don't see how you would have had any motive to kill my friend."

"I didn't," I told her. "I'd never met him before and I'd never even read his reviews."

"Boy, were you in for a surprise!" laughed Sally hollowly.

"I keep hearing things similar to that too. Sally, I hate to ask, but is there anyone who might have wanted Edwin dead?"

Sally thought about it for a moment, then said, "I'm sure there were a lot of people who disliked Edwin. He wasn't a very likable character, although we got on well enough because I overlooked his flaws, and he kept them in check around me. No, I can't think of anyone who might have wanted to kill him. The police asked me that too and I told Detective Logan that Edwin never mentioned receiving any viable threats. He got the occasional one at the newspaper but I doubt he ever took any of them seriously. Plus, his biting reviews seemed to always have the opposite effect. What I'm saying is, he never did anyone real harm."

"Did that annoy Edwin?"

"I don't think he ever gave it a moment's thought."

"What about his family?" I asked.

"He doesn't have any. His parents passed away a few years ago and he didn't have any siblings or other close relatives."

"He never married?"

"He did marry, once, briefly in his youth, but he was foolish and she quickly divorced him. That was before we became friends. He never wanted to get married again but he enjoyed the odd dalliance. No one that he was interested in long enough to stick around."

"No children?"

"No. He never wanted any, but he was nice enough to my kids." Sally pointed to a photo on the mantel of a man and woman in their early twenties, both holding tennis rackets and smiling. They had her same blonde hair but their eyes were blue and their faces tanned. "My husband passed away when my youngest was only two. He was like an uncle to them in a curmudgeonly sort of way."

"Curmudgeonly?" I repeated.

Sally gave a half smile. "He liked them well enough although he didn't have a lot of time for children. He doled out little pats on their heads and was very good at frowning in a disapproving manner when they weren't well-behaved. Sometimes, I thought it was an act but he would go right on and continue being awful."

"Was he awful to you?"

"Occasionally, but there came a point in our friendship when I told him he either had to be nice to me or he could find another friend to tolerate his hostile idiosyncrasies. He stayed on his best behavior after that."

"He must have valued your friendship a lot to temper his personality."

"I'd like to think so."

"Did you like to go with him when he was reviewing restaurants?"

"Yes, we dined out together quite often. Food was a factor that unified us. Despite being such a pain in the neck, Edwin was very knowledgeable about food and cooking. He could be very entertaining with stories about where things came from and what trends were rising. He also knew the proper ingredients that could be added to dishes to give them that little something extra. He made wonderful food too and had a terrific palate when it came to good wine. I told him often that he missed his calling as a chef."

"Did he have any other interests?"

"Not many. He liked to travel and we took a few trips together. Oh, in a bizarre way, he became very keen on entering his garden in the Halloween Gardens Tour. You must have seen it? He personally carved some marvelous pumpkins."

Calendar, thanks to its name, loved a celebration and October was always big on decorations. I remembered walking around the town last year with my parents as we followed a printed leaflet that listed all the participating homes that were featured on the Halloween Gardens Tour. Prizes were given out to the three best contenders. I vaguely remembered some enormous pumpkins taking second place. The carved faces were done extremely well and my parents and I easily identified the characters whom they represented. "The faces of famous chefs? They were all looking down at a pumpkin pie?"

"Yes, that was it!"

"He won second place," I reminded her.

Sally rolled her eyes. "Edwin was very annoyed about that. He wasn't into the spirit of competition. He felt robbed and didn’t hesitate to make it known."

"Could he, perhaps, have possibly annoyed the winner?"

"What?! Into murdering him months later?" Sally laughed and shook her head. "I don't think so. Plus, I know the Andersons are currently on a cruise. You know, if you really want to learn more about Edwin, you could start by asking your mother."

"You know my mother?"

"Jeanne McKellar is your mother?" Sally waited for me to nod, then continued, "I see her occasionally and I’m aware that she lives nearby. Edwin once told me he was madly in love with her."

I opened my mouth to say something but no words came out. Why didn't my mom ever mention this tidbit of information at the book club party?

"I hope you don't mind but I have to go over to Edwin's house soon to water his plants before I meet my daughter," she said, picking at a piece of lint from her slacks. "I wonder who will inherit his estate."

"You don't know?"

"It never occurred to me to ask," said Sally. "But Edwin was always very smart regarding his investments and legal affairs so I presume he had everything in ship-shape order. I don't feel too comfortable going into his house without him being there. I feel like an intruder trespassing and invading his privacy."

I tried to remember the house that went with the pumpkins but couldn't. I wasn't even sure of the exact location. "I'm sure he'd appreciate you continuing to look after his plants. Was he wealthy?"

Sally shrugged. "I know he lived comfortably. Do you think I should mention it to the police?"

I nodded. "Yes, if Edwin had any money, and an heir he intended to leave it to, that could be a prime motive for murder."