If You Can't Stand the Heat by Robin Allen

Author:Robin Allen
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: mystery, cuisine, murder, soft-boiled, amateur sleuth novel, amateur sleuth, fiction, culinary, mystery novels, murder mystery
Publisher: MIDNIGHT INK
Published: 2011-05-31T22:00:00+00:00

On my first visit to police headquarters, the cop had told me that Friday visiting hours started at 6:00 PM, but he didn’t tell me that I would have to sign in and wait until actual visitation began at 7:00 PM. He also didn’t tell me I should get there early. By the time I arrived at the jail, the waiting room already overflowed with the worried parents, crying babies, and disappointed friends of loved ones whose last name began with T through Z.

They say that every choice you have ever made in your life brings you to the exact moment you are currently living. If that is true in general, then it would have to be true about Ursula. Although I couldn’t imagine what choices she had made that led up to being arrested for murder. Arguing with Évariste? Becoming the chef at Markham’s? Taking her first job in a restaurant?

I was finally led into a private room and Ursula came through a door on the other side. She smiled at me through the Plexiglas and we both picked up a receiver at the same time. “I’m so glad to see you, Poppy.”

“I’m glad to see you, too. I think I’m making progress.”

“First tell me how Mitch is doing.”

I told her about speaking with the surgeon, then said, “Nina told me about the partnership.”

“Oh, my mother cannot keep a secret!”

“Why did y’all keep this from me?”

Ursula shook her head. “You know too many people in the industry and Mitch didn’t want it to leak out.” Same reason Nina had given me.

“I can keep a secret! First,” I said, counting on my fingers, “I never told anyone about your mammary enhancement, did I?”

She scowled at me.

“Second,” I went on, “why would a restaurant partnership need to be a secret? It happens all the time.”

“Mitch told me he didn’t want anyone to think Markham’s was in trouble.”

“Is it?”

“Not that I can tell,” she sad. “We’ve been busier than ever, and not just because of the fat fox. But Mitch and Mom spent a lot of money on the renovations.”

“Ursula, this partnership would have made Évariste your boss, which gives you a major motive for killing him.” I couldn’t keep the stress out of my voice. “Another one.”

“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” she screamed, punctuating each statement with her open hand on the counter. The door on Ursula’s side opened. A large black female guard with close-cropped hair revealing a shiny scalp looked in. Ursula held up the offending hand. “Sorry.”

“No more of that, young lady,” the guard said. She spoke as if she’d had the authority of a gun behind her voice her entire life. “No ma’am. No more.” Ursula nodded meekly at the guard, then turned back to me. The door closed with a soft click.

“Great,” Ursula said, “that probably got me half rations of bologna sandwiches.” She looked into my eyes. “Poppy, I swear. I did not kill Évariste. I know it looks like I did, and I know I had a lot of reasons for doing it, but I didn’t do it.

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