DHM06-10 - Culinary Cozy Murder Collection 2 by Gillard Susan

Author:Gillard, Susan [Gillard, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: cThriller
Amazon: B071KY3XRN
Publisher: Guardian Publishing Group
Published: 2017-04-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“I can’t confront her or break into her room, and I can’t do the same for Bear either. I don’t have enough evidence. I need to interview more people,” Heather said, rubbing at her temples with two fingers on each hand. “And I’ve never not baked a donut for this length of time in my entire life.”

Ryan nodded along and held out a hand. “Then let’s ask some questions.”

The gardens had emptied an hour ago, and the memorial dinner had left everyone feeling slightly sad but uplifted. Amy had gone to bed to work things out in her head – apparently, she wanted to help Heather free Angelica with all she had.

Heather checked that the coast was clear of nosy Frenchmen or Bear Trapp, who had the hearing of a fox and a sly attitude to match.

All that met her was the vista of the trees, grass, and the white and black wrought iron tables.

“I bet we could sneak past that hotel manager guy and get into the kitchens. Have a look around.”

“I’m sure the police would’ve cleared the kitchen of all evidence,” Heather replied.

“If that’s the case, why do they still have Angelica in custody?”

Ryan had a good point. They couldn’t exactly rule out any lead in the case, and if the kitchen was all they could get to…

“Wait a second,” Heather whispered, “I bet we could find out what room she was in from someone in there.” The Saint James hotel was exceptionally stuffy about which rooms they placed their guests in, to protect their privacy, of course.

And now, because it could interfere with a police investigation.

“Let’s do it,” Ryan whispered. “Besides, it’s getting chilly out here.” He rose and slipped off his coat, then placed it around her shoulders. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

Heather giggled. She’d forgotten all about the romance with the murder case and Angelica’s impending court case at stake. Just today, they’d heard she wouldn’t be eligible for bail and would have to wait in a holding cell for her trial.

They’d tried to visit, but the officers had been less than accommodating.

Heather and Ryan walked down the long hall which led to the kitchen, tiptoed actually, because Augustin Pepe Lepeu’s cheesy cologne was in the air.

They reached the kitchen door, knocked once and slipped inside.

Organized chaos greeted them. The kitchen of the hotel was ran clean and smart, the chefs yelled at each other in French, made jokes Heather could barely decipher and didn’t notice the new additions to their atmosphere.

“I have no idea who to talk to,” Heather whispered.

“Me neither, but we’ve got to start somewhere,” Ryan replied. He grasped the sleeve of one of the chef’s jackets and dragged him closer.

The man jerked the sleeve out of Ryan’s grasp and shouted something in French, his face purpling.

“I’m Ryan Shepherd. I’m an external consultant for the French Police Force, and I’m here to ask some questions. Direct me to the head chef.” He spoke with such confidence that Heather had to remind herself that he wasn’t a consultant, and that they could get into a lot of sticky trouble for this.

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