A Cookbook Conspiracy by Carlisle Kate

Author:Carlisle, Kate [Carlisle, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9781101591253
Publisher: NAL
Published: 2013-01-01T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

For a grand entertainment, garnish your stewed carp with a sprig of myrtle.

—The Cookbook of Obedience Green

The next day, Derek called me from his office. The police had informed him that Baxter’s restaurant was no longer a crime scene. I telephoned Savannah to let her know and she hung up to call Peter and tell him the news.

I felt as if we were playing the telephone game.

A while later, Savannah called back. “Peter says the memorial party will be Friday night.”

“Great,” I said. “Are we still invited?”

“Of course,” she said. “By the way, Peter told me he’s been contacted by Baxter’s attorneys. Apparently Baxter had no living relatives, so he made Peter the executor of his will.”

“Really?” That surprised me a little. I knew Baxter had grown up in the same small village as Peter, but it had always seemed as though Peter didn’t like Baxter. Maybe they were closer friends than Peter had let on. “That’s interesting.”

“Is it?”

“I guess it depends on your point of view.” Realizing that the things Savannah and I found interesting were probably worlds apart, I changed the subject. “So tell me about the memorial party. Are you cooking?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She hesitated, then said, “I’m not even sure where we’ll have it. The thing is, Brooklyn, Peter swung by the restaurant earlier and it’s still a mess. Not only are there paparazzi lining the sidewalks outside, but there’s blood everywhere in the kitchen and that icky black fingerprint powder is smeared all over the place. Peter says it’s revolting, and the police aren’t even responsible for cleaning it up.”

“No, they’re not,” I murmured.

“So we’re not sure we’ll have our dinner there. I’m so bummed.”

“Look, tell him not to change plans,” I said. “I’ll call a cleaning service.”

“I doubt if a couple of housemaids will be able to handle it.”

I smiled inwardly. “I’m talking about a specialized cleanup service that deals with crime scenes and biohazard spills and stuff like that. These guys show up in hazmat suits and when they’re finished, you’ll never be able to tell that anything bad happened there.”

“You do know the most interesting people,” she said.

I had to sigh. Really, when had my life become so complicated? “I do, don’t I?”

We hung up and I put a call in to my buddy Tom, who owned the crime scene cleanup service I had used for my friend Robin’s house after that man was killed in her bedroom. Tom had been recommended by Inspector Jaglom and he really knew his stuff.

What I liked about Tom was that for someone who dealt with the grisly aftermath of violent death, he was one of the friendliest guys I’d ever met. Big as a bear, he was kindhearted and deferential to his clients, who, after all, were the loved ones left behind once the body was taken away. Tom took his job very seriously, especially when blood had been spilled. His cleanup crew would wear full hazardous material suits, covering themselves from head to toe in order to work in the biohazard environment of Baxter’s kitchen.

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