Pink peppercorns were related to nuts? I read the warning twice just to make sure that I wasn’t misreading it. Then I grabbed my phone and did a search for pink peppercorns online. I couldn’t believe it. There were multiple cases of severe allergic reactions when people had consumed the bright berries. Many spice shops around the country had begun to include warning labels informing customers of the potentially life-threatening hazard associated with pink peppercorns.
One quote gave me pause: “Pink peppercorns are highly toxic and should be used in moderation. The FDA banned them temporarily in the 1980s.”
My mind raced. Had Evan tasted Howard’s pink peppercorn truffles? Maybe it had been an accident after all. Or maybe Howard had a motive for killing Evan, and found a devious way to make it happen.
I called Thomas, who didn’t answer, so I left a message letting him know what I had discovered about the pink peppercorns. Then I called Lance. I’m not exactly sure why, maybe it was because of Mom’s earlier comment about how we needed each other’s friendship, or maybe it was because it felt like he authentically (in his weird Lance way) was trying to be helpful. He didn’t answer either, so I left him the same message that I’d left for Thomas.
Pacing in front of the pastry case, I tried to decide what to do next. Why would Howard want Evan dead? What could his motivation be? I thought back to every conversation I’d had over the long weekend. Howard and Evan had partnered on their truffle line, pairing chocolate and salt to rave reviews and critical acclaim. Why would Howard want to end that?
A thought flashed in my head: what if Evan had wanted to end their business relationship? What had Carter said about Evan sourcing new vendors? Could Evan have been looking to replace Howard? He had hinted as much. I had assumed that Evan was going after new partnerships as a way to ensure that no one found out that he was losing his sense of taste, but what if there was more to it than that?
Torte’s main phone line rang, making me jump and clutch my chest. Who was calling this late? I answered the phone on the third ring.
“Torte, Juliet speaking.”
“Oh, Juliet, great, you’re there. I’m calling from Ashland Springs and our hotel manager is nervous about your cakes. As vendors have been coming to pick up their things, they’ve almost been knocked over twice. Is there any chance you can come pick them up tonight?”
“Sure. I’ll be right there.” I hung up, thrilled to have a distraction. What was taking Thomas and Lance so long to return my calls?
I pulled on my coat and hurried up to the hotel. The concierge pointed me to the storage area. I wasn’t sure what we were going to do with the cakes anyway, maybe we could spray them with a preservative and display them in the windows. The hallway leading to the storage area was deserted, but I ran into Chef Garrison.
“Hi, good to see you, Jules.” He greeted me with a hearty handshake. His chef’s coat was pristine despite the fact that I knew he must have just finished overseeing dinner service.
“Great to see you too. I’m here for a cakes.” I pointed to the storage room. “They had to push us out quickly for the wedding.”
He nodded. “I know, we were booked solid tonight. My staff is about ready to strike between the five-course chocolate dinner I had them prepare and the wedding. With all of the guests here for the festival the hotel and my dining room have been booked solid all weekend.”
“It’s good to be busy this time of year though, right?”
“You can say that again.” He gave me a thumbs-up. “Congratulations again on the win! I was pulling for you, and your mom of course, she’s a pillar in the food community. We’ll have to go grab drinks one night and do some collaboration. What do you say?”
“Absolutely. I’m in.”
“See you later, good luck with your cakes.” He started to walk down the hall, when I called to him to stop.
“Sorry. One quick question before you go.”
“Sure, shoot.”
“What do you know about pink peppercorns?”
“The spice?’
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t used them a lot. They scare me. I had a customer have a reaction to them once and, to be honest, after that I’ve steered away from them. Not worth the risk, you know?”
“You mean like an allergic reaction?”
He nodded. “Yes, pink peppercorns are a member of the cashew family. They are actually a type of tree nut. I never knew that until the customer started swelling up.”
“I just learned the same thing.”
“If you want my advice, I wouldn’t recommend them in your pastries. Too much stress trying to make sure you let everyone know, you know?”
“Exactly.”
“What did you want to know about them?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I lied. “I was thinking of experimenting with an old recipe, but when I read about its relation to nuts I wondered if that was something chefs knew.”
He shrugged. “I doubt many of them do, but like I said, I don’t think it’s worth it. Sure the flavor is good, but it’s not worth the risk of making someone sick, or worse.”
Or worse indeed, I thought.
“Right, thanks.”
“Drinks soon.”
“For sure.”
He continued down the hall. I turned and opened the storage room door. The room was dark, but when I stepped inside someone covered my mouth with their hand and tossed me up against the wall.