Chapter 19
HARLOW
"Thank you for joining us this evening."
Detective Getzoff stepped into Angel's Rest in a store bought suit, his hair slicked back.
"I was surprised to be invited," he said. "You seem…uncomfortable in my presence."
"I don't trust people easily." I said honestly, "But you've shown your support for me and my restaurants. I thought I'd return the favor." I hoped it wasn't obvious I was lying through my teeth.
Again.
"Feel free to mingle with the other guests. Dinner will be along shortly."
"Thank you, Chef St. James." He stepped farther inside, nodding to someone.
I turned my face but couldn't figure out exactly who he was acknowledging.
Several of my regulars stood in roughly the right direction, including Judge Forest Cross and film critic Kevin Lotz-Moore.
I invited my most esteemed regulars. I owed them for continuing to come here and eat my food, especially after Erin was murdered here. A few notable others had stayed away. I didn't blame them; violent death would freak most people out.
Honestly, I'd thought about not coming back here myself, but this was my happy place. I put that night behind me as best I could and got on with it.
When it came down to it, they were the ones missing out on fine food. Although a couple of them were now eating at Angel's Redemption instead, so it worked out for everyone.
Except Erin.
I greeted the next handful of guests, giving them the same spiel, and laughing at their responses although I only half-heard.
No doubt they'd put it down to nerves. We didn't often hold events like this here. This was a small, intimate restaurant. Nothing fancy except for the food.
A special dinner like this was unique. If I had my way, I'd never do it again. All these people in this space made my anxiety levels spike.
I startled as someone put a hand on my shoulder. I spun around to see Boner, a drink in his hand.
"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to scare the shit out of you." He stroked his fingers over my neck.
"It's okay," I said quickly. "This is a lot."
"It is a lot. I'm impressed. I was just in the kitchen checking out the food. It looks tasty." He smacked his lips and leaned in to whisper, "Not as tasty as you."
"You didn't eat any of it, did you?" I eyed him as if the accusation was serious. The hint of a smile on my lips might have proven otherwise.
"A little nibble here or there, that's all." He gave me a wink. "You know me. I wouldn't ruin this for you."
"Of course you wouldn’t," I said. "I should get back in there and make sure everything is ready. Shelly and Yvette can greet the rest."
They both looked at me like I needed a reminder they'd stood back while I did their job for them. Both were perfectly capable of doing it.
Yeah, I knew all of that, but I'd wanted to greet Getzoff personally, so he felt comfortable and relaxed tonight. He might need it.
"I’ll come with you," Boner said. "Check that. There's someone over there I need to catch up with."
"Okay," I said as he kissed my cheek and hurried away.
I shrugged and worked my way through the customers who stood chatting to each other, and slipped back into the kitchen.
"How is everything?" I asked.
Cass was keeping an eye on the marinara sauce, his phone in his hand.
"Everything is in place," he said. "I've put out word that Detective Getzoff is looking into the deaths of Granger Fairfield and Solomon Danforth. Apparently he found a promising lead, connecting them to other people of influence."
I straightened my chef jacket and tried not to wince. It was one thing to use ourselves as bait, but to use someone else…
"We’re all right here if anything happens," Archer said. He stood near the storeroom, soda in one hand, phone in the other, hiding from the crowds.
"I know," I said. "I wonder if we should warn him, that's all."
"If he's working with them, he might warn them," Archer said reasonably. "We don't need him to do that."
"This was your plan," Cass pointed out, as if I needed a reminder.
I straightened my ponytail and moved over to stir the sauce.
"I know. I also know it could go horribly wrong for everyone."
"It's going to go horribly right," he assured me. He stepped over behind me and bracketed my hips with his hands, leaning in to press a kiss to my neck. Drawing a shiver from me. "We've got this.”
"Unless you're having second thoughts?" Archer asked.
"What are the statistics on people having second thoughts in situations like this?" I asked with a sigh.
"I don’t know, but I'm going to guess it's high." He glanced at his screen like he might look for the answer there, but shook his head to himself.
"What's the percentage of people who get into situations like this?" I asked.
He took a moment to think about that. "I'm going to suggest it's low."
"Let me guess. Five people out of the millions that live in the city," I said.
"I might narrow it down to five out of the billions of people who live on the planet," he said. "Although, there might be more of us than we know."
"Oh, I don't know. Five sounds about right," I said laughing bitterly. "Everyone else is too sane for this bullshit."
"Are you calling us insane?" Cass asked, his breath brushing my earlobe.
"Unless you have a better word for it," I asked. "Unhinged. Out of our trees. Fucked up as fuck. Screwy." I exhaled out my nose.
"If this is unhinged, then I don't want to be hinged," Cass said, squeezing my hips.
"If Jules was here, he'd have something to say about that," I said.
Jules was outside, on the street, keeping an eye on comings and goings from the restaurant. A job he volunteered for. Possibly because he didn't trust the rest of us to be up to it. And possibly because he wanted some time alone, away from the craziness.
Right, there was another word, crazy.
What can I say, I wasn't a walking thesaurus.
"Yeah, he would," Cass agreed. "But he's as unhinged as the rest of us, so that doesn't count. Anyway, I don't give a shit if he approves or not. This is my life now. You're my life now." He kissed my cheek. His lips soft and reassuring.
"We should start plating up the first course," I said reluctantly.
Not reluctant to feed people, reluctant to step away from his embrace. It was comforting here. Warm and safe. Like the minute I stepped away, I was vulnerable again. I hated being vulnerable more than I hated almost anything.
Cass slipped his hands from me and stepped back to grab plates and start putting them out so I could plate up the fig and prosciutto salad and freshly baked bread, which he'd been slicing while I was greeting guests. His knife work was getting better. The slices were almost perfectly uniform.
Even though I was a bundle of nerves, I noticed details like that. It was ingrained in me, for one thing. For another, obsessing took my mind off everything else.
"That looks so pretty," Archer said as I finished the first of the plates and made sure they were clean and ready to go.
"Thank you," I told him, turning my face far enough to kiss his cheek. His stubble was rough against my lips, but his body close to mine was as warm and comforting as Cass’.
Where once I would have preferred to do this alone, now I was glad for their presence.
Honestly, I wasn't sure if I could do this without them. I didn't want to. They were mine and I was theirs, no matter what happened.
I glanced out to the seating area and nodded to Yvette for her and Shelly to start herding the customers toward their tables.
With one eye on the rest of the plates, I watched Detective Getzoff move around the room before sitting at a table with Judge Cross and Kevin Lotz-Moore.
Interesting that was the company he chose to sit with. Both glanced at him speculatively, but returned to the conversation they were having between themselves. Nothing heavy by the look of it. One or the other would laugh every couple of minutes.
Getzoff said something to the man sitting beside him.
A tall man with silver as his temples, who wore a leather jacket that looked expensive.
His dark eyes regarded the detective with curiosity, but didn’t seem to be unfriendly.
He must have arrived with someone else. I couldn't remember seeing him here before.
They started off a conversation about who knows what. They were too far for me to hear. They could be talking about the weather for all I knew. Or how to eviscerate a corpse without making too much of a mess.
That sounded more like the conversations my men and I had around the dinner table, but who knew? Getzoff might secretly be a serial killer too.
I couldn't rule him out as the person who killed Lionel Gammage. For one thing, he arrived with the other cops remarkably fast after the man's death.
I shook my head to myself and finished plating up.
Once the guests were seated, Shelly and Yvette hurried over to take out their salads and bread, plus a couple of plates for people with dairy intolerance who weren't able to eat the dressing on the salad.
Plus a couple without prosciutto for my kosher guests.
The chatter died down for a while as everyone started to eat, replaced with smiles and groans of appreciation. The wine flowed freely. Shelly and Yvette moving around to fill up glasses as guests asked for more.
"Everyone seems to be having a nice time," Archer said.
"Mmmhmm," I agreed. Especially Boner. He was seated at a table with some other guests, positioned so he could keep an eye on everyone in the room.
He was doing a good job of looking like he wasn't looking, while talking to the woman beside him, then telling a joke that made the whole table crack up laughing.
"You could sit out there too," I told him.
He shuddered. "I'm good here, thanks. It's easier to keep an eye on everyone."
It probably wasn't, but I wasn't going to call him out on it. If he didn't want to be there in the crowds, I wouldn't pressure him.
The atmosphere out there was relaxed, but with a hint of tension that was probably just me. It was palpable, pulled tighter than a guitar string.
Forcing a few deep breaths in and out, I started to make the pasta. Naturally everything was fresh. That's what my guests were paying for; a special evening of good food and good company. With the proceeds going to a shelter down the street from us.
They could eat well and be seen helping out other people, how better to soothe people's egos, while making Getzoff vulnerable?
If Cass sent the right message, Hypnos and Zeus would know exactly where he was tonight, and roughly what time he'd be walking down the street, possibly alone. It was one time where his whereabouts could be pinpointed.
Whether or not they'd act on it remained to be seen.