Five belles too many, p.19
Five Belles Too Many, page 19
CHAPTER 26
Although it was late, it was too early for Emily to have finished at the restaurant, so Sarah took Fluffy for a quick walk while Harlan, who Sarah knew was probably more comfortable than she was in her own kitchen, got the three of them water. Returning to the carriage house, she found Harlan, with legal pad and pen, in one of the oversized chairs in her living room and Jane sitting on the edge of its counterpart. A hissing RahRah sat inches away from Jane. He clearly remembered when Jane, claiming she was supposed to be his caretaker after Sarah’s former mother-in-law died last year, forced RahRah to live with her for a few days.
Sarah plunked herself down on the fireplace ledge between Jane and Harlan. Fluffy went to Harlan for a pet and then to Jane. After being ignored, despite nudging her nose at Jane’s leg, Fluffy made her way back to Sarah. During all of this, RahRah hadn’t budged. Although Sarah secretly loved RahRah tormenting Jane—revenge was apparently sweet—she knew if Harlan was going to get some answers from Jane, RahRah’s game must end. Bending forward, Sarah scooped her cat into her lap.
He looked at her as if to challenge what she’d done, but there was no way she could verbally explain her actions to him. Instead, she cuddled him closer and slowly stroked his fur. A purring sound told her everything was okay between them.
“Are we ready to begin now, Sarah?” Harlan didn’t make eye contact with her.
She stifled the same grin she felt he was trying to keep hidden. “Yes. I think all of us are.”
“Good. Jane, I want you to take me through what happened tonight. Everything.”
“As you know, most of today’s filming was done away from Jane’s Place. Consequently, after putting out the breakfast buffet, we were only required to have a small craft table.”
“We?” Harlan interrupted.
“Chef Bernardi and me. Part of our deal was a hosting partnership for the competition week.” She cast her eyes downward at the floor. “I wasn’t completely honest with you, Harlan. You know things have been tight the past few months. Well, I’d reached a point that I was going to have to let Chef Bernardi go. He’d been getting room and board as part of being my pastry chef. When I told him, he wasn’t happy. The next day, he came to me and said something had fallen into his lap thanks to an old friendship and that, if we partnered together, it could prove profitable for both of us.”
“The Southern Belle competition?”
“Yes. He knew what their specifications were, so I let him work up a proposal that would be below any competitor’s bid, but would leave us a thin profit margin. We got the contract, but as you all know from the first night’s dinner at Southwind, it wasn’t until then that I learned the contract didn’t include what would have been our gravy—the dinners.”
“Didn’t you read the contract?” Sarah asked.
Jane pressed her lips together and shook her head. “At the point we signed the contract, I counted on Chef Bernardi to handle the fiscal side of everything while I worried about the menus and the rooms. Things didn’t become tense between us until after the contracts were signed.”
Harlan tapped his pen against his pad. “What did things become tense over?”
“The everyday running of Jane’s Place. Remember, he hired on as a pastry chef with me a few months ago when he thought the college would make us a hospitality training site. When that fell through and we were scrounging for other business, he wanted to highlight his pastries and turn Jane’s Place into a tearoom of sorts. I refused. I wanted to work on obtaining more catering contracts and trying to build back up to being a quality restaurant.”
“More on the order of Southwind?”
“Exactly. He cut a few deals with vendors and for dessert events behind my back and that was the last straw. I told him he was out once the show contract was fulfilled.”
Sarah was going to say something, but she saw Harlan was about to ask a question. He began, but then stopped. By the pause and change in his phrasing, she wondered what he was going to ask instead of: “Tell me about today.”
“When most of the people still staying at Jane’s Place went to Southwind for dinner, I stayed behind. I went into my kitchen—”
Harlan interrupted Jane. “What time was that?”
“Around nine. By then, anyone who wasn’t eating at Southwind already had grazed at the table and moved on to the bars.”
From what her mother had said, Sarah knew Jane’s assumption was probably correct.
“Okay, you went into the kitchen. Was Chef Bernardi there?”
“Yes. He was working on his cake, but as had become our custom, unless talking was necessary, we ignored each other. I gathered up what I needed and walked into the greenroom. Except for a few paper napkins and plates, someone already had cleared everything, including the food, from the table. I went back into the kitchen and rather than being as gracious as I probably should have been, I challenged Chef Bernardi on why, when he saw me gathering up everything, he didn’t tell me he’d already taken care of the table.”
Sarah leaned forward, placing her now squirmy cat on the floor. “Did he give you a reason?”
“He laughed. He indicated it served me right for not talking to him. He said he would have told me if I’d asked or mentioned what I was about to do.”
Knowing how belligerent Jane could be, Sarah easily could imagine Jane ignoring Chef Bernardi and then being furious with the way he played her.
“I saw red. We got into it about how he’d be lucky, considering everything, to get out of this situation without me killing him.”
“Did anyone hear you threaten him?” Harlan asked.
“I don’t know. I stormed out of there and went out on the patio to cool down.”
“And that was the end of it?” Harlan started to recap his pen.
“No. I came back through the front entryway and walked into the smaller dining room.”
“You went back into the kitchen?”
“Again, no. He was arguing with someone so loudly that I didn’t want to burst in on them.”
“Instead,” Sarah said, “you stayed and listened to the argument.”
Jane cheeks reddened. Not as much as they heated up when she was furious, but enough to either mean Jane was embarrassed or mad. Sarah didn’t care to find out. She remained quiet, hoping Jane would tell them what she’d overheard. She didn’t, so Harlan prompted Jane.
“He was arguing with a woman, but I couldn’t tell who because the only thing I heard her say was ‘This isn’t going to happen with my daughter. What are you going to do?’ He made some reply and then came out of the kitchen into the dining room. When he saw me, he started in on me and my eavesdropping.”
“Did the other person come out too?”
“No.” Jane stopped. Her face changed as if she were trying to capture a thought. “Come to think of it, whoever it was didn’t leave the building because I didn’t hear the kitchen door chime.”
Harlan cocked his head.
“I don’t have a chime on the door leading out from the greenroom, but I do on the one from the kitchen. I was always afraid food might walk. That means the person probably took the back stairs.”
“You’re saying at that point Chef Bernardi was alive.”
“Very much so.”
“Couldn’t they have waited for him to come back into the kitchen?”
“The person didn’t. After he screamed that I was a fool, Chef Bernardi went back into the kitchen and I followed him. I was yelling it was his fault I was going to lose Jane’s Place, but he ignored me.”
“Why was that, Jane?” Harlan turned a page back in his notes. “You said you were equal partners in the Southern Belle deal and that it was structured to give you a slight profit margin. Obviously, Chef Bernardi knew the dinners weren’t included and therefore weren’t part of the profit margin he’d calculated. As deep in the red as you were, I don’t see how the profit margin, even if the dinners had been included, could possibly have been enough to keep your business afloat. But, if you were coming out in the black based upon his bid, how was it his fault you were going to lose Jane’s Place?”
“I don’t know. I just said it.” She pursed her lips.
“Look, Jane, I’m tired. I have work to do tomorrow. I don’t have time for you to keep giving me only part of the story.”
She met his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve told you the truth about everything.”
“Everything you’ve told me. Now, I want to know the missing part.”
“There isn’t one.”
“But there is. There is no way that the revenue stream you were getting from the show was enough to save Jane’s Place, even if you didn’t have to share it with Chef Bernardi. It might have kept you limping along for a while, but not enough to stay open for long.”
“That’s not true. The money would have been tight, but Chef Bernardi assured me people flocking to Jane’s Place after seeing it on TV would make up for the revenues I lost during the past few months.”
Harlan stared at Jane as if his eyes were boring a hole in her. “Chef Bernardi did more than that, didn’t he, Jane? We all know he was making book on this competition. How much did you bet?”
“I didn’t.”
“Was your bet tied to his free rent or somehow to his partnership?”
Jane jumped up and wagged her finger at Harlan. “How dare you say anything like that?”
Harlan didn’t move a muscle. He simply waited her out. “Because what I’m saying is true, isn’t it? What were the odds?”
For a moment, Sarah thought Jane was about to attack Harlan, as his stillness seemed to rile her more. Instead, Jane collapsed back into the chair as if any energy had been sucked out of her. She dropped her head into her hands.
A part of Sarah instinctively wanted to comfort her by putting an arm around her and assuring her everything would be all right, if she only told Harlan the truth. The other part of Sarah wanted to smack her own face for even thinking about putting her arms around Jane, now that karma was finally catching up to her. Instead, Sarah patted her own thigh and when Fluffy obliged by putting his head in her lap, Sarah petted him. At least she was comforting someone.
“The truth now, Jane,” Harlan said.
“I was going to lose the restaurant. When we started our partnership, he assured me that if we used what he knew to place a series of bets on the show, I’d have more than enough money to keep Jane’s Place going, plus extra to try a new concept.”
“You were betting using insider information?” Sarah was excited. There was a good chance Chef Bernardi’s source either knew what was planned for the competition or was a party to how the competition was going to be thrown. If Sarah could find that person, he or she not only would clear Jane, but also any suspicions being cast on Southwind. “If Chef Bernardi was sure enough of his information, did he brag to you who he got it from?”
“He bragged about a lot of things, but not that. Our deal was that I put up the money and he would structure my bets based upon where the line was.”
“Was he rigging it?”
“I asked the same question and he said ‘no.’ He explained that simply by being friends with Alan and having worked on the scouting team, he was using general information as to who should be the strongest team or who people would identify with.” She grimaced and shook her head. “If Natalie and Ralph had gone out like they should have, things would have been fine. All of my money was on them to be out on day one. Jed and Lucy leaving ruined everything. We all begged Chef Bernardi to refund our money or start over with the bets, but he refused.”
“You weren’t the only one who lost big?” Sarah asked.
“Not by a long shot. Last night when you came up on the porch as I interrupted the guys during their cigar-and-drink session, it was apparent most, if not all of them, had a bet riding with Chef Bernardi.”
“Do you mean Chef Bernardi was out there with the four remaining grooms?” Harlan said.
“No, not George or Ralph. Just Trey and Lance, as well as Sam and Flynn. I don’t know how big everyone’s bets were, but some of them must have been pretty big in order for Chef Bernardi to have covered my bet, since he’d been confident I would win, and he couldn’t have afforded to pay me out of his own pocket. Anyway, we all took the position that because the circumstances were unforeseen, the bets as placed should be canceled.”
“And he refused?”
“Adamantly. He reminded us that Jed and Lucy appeared in the introduction segment that aired. He said that because Jed and Lucy officially started the competition, there was no push. All our bets were lost. When Chief Gerard finds out that besides our business arrangement, I was betting with Chef Bernardi and I lost everything, he’s not going to look beyond me for Chef Bernardi’s death.”
“When you say ‘everything,’ what do you mean?”
“I had to bet big to win big.” Jane sighed. For the next hour, she went into detail about her financial situation, how her creditors were pushing her, and her reason for trying to grab the brass ring by gambling. She stopped talking when a key turned in the front door.
“Hi, Em,” Sarah yelled, so her sister wouldn’t be frightened by hearing people in the house. Emily joined them in the living room.
“Hi, everyone. I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, Sarah.”
“We came over here to talk for a while. I already walked Fluffy for the night.”
“Thanks. I’m beat. I’ll let you get back to what you were doing. Bedtime for me.”
“I’ll lock up when we leave. Good night.”
Once Emily had gone to the guest bedroom, Jane resumed her explanation. “Absent a miracle, I only have enough cash to keep the business open until the end of the month. I know how this sounds. But Harlan, I swear when I left Chef Bernardi the second time, not only was he still alive, but he had pulled a leather cigar case out of his pocket and was going out for a peaceful smoke.”
“I have one more question, Jane,” Harlan said. “Why did you come back to the kitchen where you might run into Chef Bernardi for a third time?”
“I was hungry.”
“What?” Sarah stopped petting Fluffy. “After everything, you were hungry?”
Jane nodded. “I didn’t go to dinner with everyone, so I was hungry. When I was in the kitchen the second time, I saw he’d put the finishing touches of a little football player and cheerleader on his cake. That’s why I thought I’d have my kitchen back to make myself a late dinner. I walked in and there he was—stuck upside down in the dishwasher conveyor belt. It wasn’t more than a few moments later when Sarah and Cliff came in.” She laughed. “It’s ironic. He took me and everyone else to the cleaners, and you might say he ended up getting the same treatment.”
CHAPTER 27
As Harlan wrapped up things with Jane, Sarah took their water glasses to the kitchen. She tried to piece together what she could from the tidbits Jane recounted. Sarah knew Jane’s confession filled in the pieces about the money, especially the revenue stream, which Harlan felt were missing. In Sarah’s mind, what Jane told them only raised new questions she wanted to bounce off Harlan.
Hearing the front door close, she went back into the living room eager to talk to Harlan. He was sitting in the big chair, snapping his briefcase closed. “Harlan, I was thinking—”
He put his hand up to cut her off. “Not tonight, Sarah. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“But don’t you think we learned a lot from Jane that if we brainstormed together might help us figure this out?”
“Sarah, I’m brain-dead. Sadly, this will all be here tomorrow.”
Although she knew he was right, she hated the idea of letting any time pass by if they could possibly steer Chief Gerard away from Jane or anybody at Southwind. Trying one more time, Sarah explained to Harlan why she was eager not to wait.
“That’s not a problem right now.”
“Why?”
“Chief Gerard still thinks Jane is his most likely suspect in Alan’s death, but he isn’t going to do anything about it until the toxicology reports are back. Dr. Smith convinced him that those reports will either confirm his conclusion or force him to look in a different direction. Sarah, the problem is that the other direction definitely might take him back to Southwind.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Dr. Smith performed the autopsy on Alan this afternoon. When he opened the body, he noted an odor in handling the lungs that he associated, from another case he had, with nicotine poisoning. Because that isn’t routinely tested for, he’s made a request for expedited tests for nicotine to be performed on the samples he provided. You know we’ve discussed how conservative in making decisions Dr. Smith is. He figures medical examiners or coroners often have guesses that are wrong, but they are heroes when they’re right. Dr. Smith doesn’t care about being a hero, but he does care about his findings being correct. I’m inclined to think his hunch is probably right. Because he’s not going to make it formal until he has the proof, we have a little time.”
“And that proof will include how he ingested it, including whether it was in Alan’s drink or the food he ate? But, if it’s nicotine poisoning, couldn’t it have been in the cigars?”
“All of those are possibilities. The thing is, nicotine poisoning doesn’t have to be fatal if treated promptly and if the ingestion level is low. For death, it usually takes buildup in the system or a high ingestion level. One cigar isn’t going to be enough nicotine to kill anyone. From how Alan knocked over the vase, showed signs of vomiting, paleness, and blue lips, Dr. Smith thinks he may have had some early symptoms he ignored and then been in the later stages when he was in the entry hall. In that stage, one can have seizures or become dizzy, which may explain him bumping into the vase stand. Because Chef Bernardi’s symptoms weren’t as pronounced as Alan’s, Dr. Smith isn’t ready to suggest the same means for him to have died. He could have died naturally.”
