Chapter 15
HARLOW
You know the exact moment you think everything has been too quiet and then things blow up in your face?
I saw no sign of Detective Getzoff for four days. I almost started to forget he existed when he walked into my restaurant, almost at the end of the dinner service.
I caught a glimpse of him as I was putting the finishing touches to a couple of desserts.
I muttered something under my breath.
"Are you okay?" Cass asked, stepping over and peering out in a very non-inconspicuous way. "Oh."
"Yeah, oh," I said, tidying up the plates and sliding in a couple of spoons.
I handed them over to Shelly, who hurried away with them.
"Chef St. James." Getzoff strode over to the kitchen like he owned the place. "Looks like you have a busy night here."
I glanced up at him as I grabbed another couple of bowls and started spooning dessert into them.
"Very busy. Have you come for more of the lasagna?" I asked. "Or maybe I could tempt you with dessert?"
I ignored Cass’ glance at my face at the use of the word ‘tempt.’ He should know by now I was only offering food. This man didn't interest me in any way, except curiosity at why he kept lurking around.
"That does look good," he agreed. "I thought I'd come and see how you are. With all the goings on in the neighborhood."
"Goings on?" I looked up at him with one eye.
"Yes, there's been some unfortunate accidents in the local area over the last few weeks, possibly even months."
"With this amount of people in a small radius, you're going to get accidents," I said. I flashed him a slight smile before returning my attention to the dessert.
There was an increase in unexplained disappearances and the occasional murder since I started committing them, but I was careful to spread them out, knowing at some point the police would start looking for a pattern.
"That's true," he agreed. "But some are more suspicious than others."
"I’m sure they are." I put spoons into the next round of desserts and placed them up for Shelly to take to customers.
"I understand one of your staff was murdered right here in this restaurant," he said, looking around at the seating area as if somehow it would reveal blood that was spilt here.
I washed my hands and wiped them slowly on a towel. "That's right. The police are still looking for her killer."
"And you're still operating a restaurant here," he observed.
“A girl has to make a living," I said, making sure to add the right amount of regret to my tone. I didn't need to fake it. I still missed Erin. I hated what Gina did to her, but she of all people wouldn't have wanted me to close the restaurant because of it.
She knew the importance of the people I was helping here, and the money I donated to shelters from the profits. She wouldn't have wanted her death to be in vain, as they say.
"I’m sure she does," he said smoothly. "Why a restaurant?"
"Because that's where chefs work?" I suggested, answering his question with one of my own. "People have to eat."
Did he think I had something to do with Erin's death? Or was he digging into something deeper?
"Some people operate food trucks," he said. "Those are mobile, easy to move from place to place. To—I don't know, disappear if you wanted to."
"You must know some interesting people who operate food trucks," I said. "I prefer to stay put and feed my regular customers. I'm not sure there's much call for the food I prepare at local fairs and carnivals anyway."
"You don't think people want lasagna?" he asked.
"Not as much as they want pizza and hamburgers," I said easily.
Personally, if I was going to go to a carnival, I'd love lasagna, but that was neither here nor there.
"You've been in New York for a long time, Chef St. James?"
"All my life," I said. "Apart from the occasional holiday. How about you?" I didn't really care, but if he was going to pretend to engage in small talk, two could play that game.
"Almost as long," he agreed. "Best place in the world."
"It definitely is. I see a table just opened up if you'd like to have a seat." I had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy, not when he was sniffing around for something in particular.
Beside me, Cass moved with jerky movements like he was barely containing his irritation. I forced myself not to look at him and give him a reassuring glance. That wouldn't go unnoticed.
"What do you know about Toby Dent?" Getzoff, asked as if trying to catch me unaware.
I didn't need to pretend when I frowned. Was that his last name?
I shook my head. "Should I know who that is?"
"He's a convenience store owner who met with an unfortunate death a few nights ago," Getzoff said.
"I can't say it rings a bell," I said. "How terrible for him. And his family."
"Very terrible," Getzoff agreed. "The shelves in his storeroom weren't fastened to the wall correctly. They fell and he was crushed."
I winced. "That's awful. What a horrible way to die."
Getzoff was watching me carefully. Looking for my reaction. Possibly wondering if I'd give any sign I knew he wasn't killed by falling cans.
I cocked my head and frowned. "Wait a minute. Why do I get the feeling you're suggesting he didn't die that way?” I widened my eyes, leaned back and whispered, "Are you saying he was murdered? Do you think it's the same person that killed Erin?"
Was I convincing enough?
"Oh my god," Cass whispered. "What if there's a serial killer running around in the area?"
I looked over at him now and swallowed hard, trying not to lay it on too thick.
"Is that why you're here?" I asked, turning back to Getzoff. "Do you think I'm in some kind of danger?"
"I'm not sure." For the first time, he seemed to be on the back foot, as if he hadn't expected our reaction. "There does seem to be someone killing people. But the pattern is…"
He shook his head and pressed his lips together like he'd said too much already.
"Maybe I've watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds, but is it common for a serial killer to kill men and women?" I asked.
Personally, I never killed another woman until Gina. I knew Erin and Toby Dent had very different profiles: different ages, different personalities. She was innocent. He was not. On paper, they'd look unrelated. Wouldn't they?
"Not usually, but something tells me these two cases are related," he said. "Call it instinct if you like."
Something in his expression suggested I shouldn't call it instinct, but I wasn't sure what it was. Not unless he was involved with Hypnos and Zeus in some way.
There were too many witnesses for me to pull out a knife, end him and make him disappear. Not to mention I couldn't prove anything. He might be an innocent police officer doing his job. Nothing more.
Yeah, okay. And I was the second reincarnation of Darth Vader.
Still, just because he wasn't innocent didn't mean he was guilty. I saw that quote on a sign somewhere for a law firm. Archer would probably know the exact one, but I didn’t, not off the top of my head.
"You think whoever killed her and him are the same person, and might eat here?" Cass asked.
I wanted to thank him for the question, if only to give me a few more moments to think.
"Have you noticed anyone suspicious who eats here regularly?" Getzoff asked.
"You've been in here a few times," I said with a laugh.
Also, the answer was yes. If you counted me, Cass, Boner, Archer, and Jules. Not to mention Gina.
When it came down to it, it was a good question whether he had anything to do with Hypnos and Zeus or not. If they knew who I was, they might well come in here and eat. Watch me. Make plans against me.
Finally, I shook my head. "No one comes to mind. I have a lot of regulars, but I can't say anyone looks more suspicious than anyone else."
"What about your staff?" Getzoff slid a glance toward Cass.
"I trust my staff implicitly," I said, trying to keep my annoyance in check at the not very subtle accusation. "Especially him. Does he look like he'd murder someone?"
I gestured toward Cass.
"Looks can be deceiving," Getzoff pointed out, giving me a direct look.
Okay, touché. I'd give him that point.
Cass held his hands up in front of himself.
"I’ve never killed anyone, I promise." That was true, he hadn't.
Yet.
He'd been a party to several deaths, but never wielded the knife. Or the acid. Or the water.
Getzoff pressed his lips together, frustrated. "If you think of anything, contact me. Something is going on here and I want to know what it is."
"Honestly, so do I," I told him. "If we're in any kind of danger, I'd like to know about it. Should I be watching my back?" With him or in general. Take your pick.
"It's always a good idea to watch your back, Chef St. James," Getzoff said. He nodded, tucked his hands into his pockets, and strode back out the door.
"I trust him as far as I can throw him," Cass said softly.
"Me too," I agreed with a sigh. "I can't figure it out. Either he thinks we're into something, or he's trying to protect us, in a general ‘cops trying to look after the public’ kind of way."
"I don't think he knows which one it is," Cass said. "I know what instincts are like; they tell you something is up, but they don't tell you what."
"That's true," I said. "Mine are telling me not to trust him, but I want to think he doesn't mean us any harm."
"But you don't, do you?" he asked.
I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand. "I don't know what to think. He was definitely fishing for information. Trying to see if we knew anything about Toby Dent. Seeing if we'd make a mistake somehow."
"Do you think we did?"
"I don't think so," I said carefully. "I think we were vague and playing the victim or potential victim well enough to put him off our scent for now."
"Right." Cass toyed with the clip in his hair like he wanted to pull it out and let it fall over his eyes. He twisted his lips.
"I’m starting to think Jules is right. We should keep a low profile."
"That might be what they want," I said.
He blinked a couple of times before he grasped what I was getting at.
"You think there's a chance he was sent by them. To get you to back off?"
"If I was them, I'd try to scare us off," I said. "Then I'd wait, and make a move against us."
"When you asked if we should watch our back…"
"The answer is definitely yes," I said. "Watch it like we have a rearview mirror built into our heads."
He snorted softly. "That would be useful right now."
"It would. Come on, we have a few more desserts to make. Then we can get out of here for the night."
I hadn't forgotten about his implied suggestion back home, that he was going to fuck my mouth. I was more than ready for it after the conversation with the detective.
I wasn't going to stop living my life.