Death on Windmill Way by Carrie Doyle

Author:Carrie Doyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2020-03-17T16:00:00+00:00

18

After Soyla left, panic set in. Antonia wanted to kick herself. She had acted totally impulsively. One minute, she’s regarding Soyla as a potential suspect or at the very least the wife of a potential suspect. Someone who has motive for murder and whom she learns over the course of the interview has access to beehives. Antonia is building the case in her mind, picturing Soyla handing off a purloined bee to Hector who in turn lures Gordon into the backyard and smashes it into his face (okay, the picture was a little fuzzy) and the next minute Antonia hires Soyla for a job the woman has zero experience doing, not to mention that Antonia is supposed to be cost cutting, not adding to the overhead she has to carry. Was she insane? Why not double the order for expensive linen napkins while she’s at it? Why not narrow the margins on alcohol?

And yet, Antonia trusted her instincts about people. She had a good vibe about Soyla. She didn’t truly think she was homicidal, or that her husband was. The motive was way too flimsy. People didn’t kill just because they were fired, did they? And Hector probably appreciated his job; there would be no reason for him to put it in jeopardy, because if he killed Gordon, there was no job security. And the fact was, Antonia did need more hands in the kitchen. This would be a trial run; she had only hired Soyla for a probation period, so there was always an out. Antonia did not want to work herself up into a lather. She decided to focus on the positive.

Liz was slicing lemons in the rear of the kitchen when Antonia entered. Lemons were an expensive luxury. People didn’t know how much lemons cost, and would toss aside the slices that adorned their diet cokes or their hot tea. That always killed Antonia, even more so now that she was counting every penny. Sometimes she just wanted to yell and say, “People, lemons are not free!” But that would be inane.

“How’s everything today?” asked Antonia.

Liz gave her a brief rundown on what was happening. Marty was outside accepting deliveries, his little scale in hand, and no doubt haggling over every gram of fish and meat. The executive chef was usually the one who negotiated with vendors, but Antonia needed someone tough and no-nonsense to make sure that no one was ripping them off, and Marty was better at that than her. The margins are tight at any restaurant. Every ounce of meat counts, because that’s where the money comes from. She had been told that it was important early on to be tough with the vendors so they wouldn’t cheat her. And because she didn’t exactly have a tough personality, she had nominated Marty for the job. He adored arguing, complaining, and grumbling, so he was very well fit for the task.

“You should have heard Marty yelling at the fishmonger,” laughed Liz.

“Uh-oh, what’d he do now?”

“He was blasting him about the striped bass.

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