Chapter 26 The Mystery of the Walk-In Fridge
The Mystery of the Walk-In Fridge
The emptiness in Mitch’s stare suggested something deeper than shock, a betrayal that was both obvious and impossible to accept.
Anna had managed to convince him that some fresh air and a proper meal would do him some good.
She’d coaxed him all the way to the restaurant and cooked him a bowl of orzo with wild asparagus she’d bought at the market that morning, originally meant for a new tofu-based spring soup she was experimenting with.
But now, sitting across from her in the dining room, Mitch looked even more downcast than before.
“Mitch,” she began carefully, “you look like the weight of the world’s just fallen on your shoulders.”
“I don’t even know where I stand anymore. I feel like my whole past has turned into some kind of illusion.”
“Are you worried you’ll end up forgetting it completely?”
“I don’t know. It’s seeming less and less real.”
“Well, I know exactly what will cheer you up.”
She pulled a small notebook from her apron pocket, flipped through the pages and handed it to him. “You’ll find everything I need in the walk-in fridge. Just get everything on that list and bring it to me in the kitchen. Can you do that for me?”
Mitch nodded and set off for the back of the restaurant.
“Remember to close the door behind you!” she called out. “The temperature has to remain constant!”
When he’d gone, she let out a sigh of relief. She needed a moment to herself.
But the peace was short-lived. There was a sound behind her. She turned around. The inspector had just walked into the restaurant, sizing her up with an unfriendly gaze.
“Do you believe in God?” he asked, his arrogance as natural as breathing.
“No,” she repeated coolly, “but sometimes I wish I believed in hell. Some people deserve to spend eternity there. I’ve been told I’m too optimistic.”
“I’m not a churchgoer myself,” he said. “But now I’m reconsidering my belief in the mysteries of faith. I’ve had a little miracle of my own, you see.”
“Well, I’ve got a menu to finish, staff to recruit, and kitchen equipment to familiarize myself with, so if you could spare me your biblical sentiments and get to the point, you’ll save us all some time.”
“Not a bad place,” the inspector commented, as if she hadn’t spoken, looking around. “Nice décor. Tasteful. Let’s hope you do as good a job in the kitchen. Unless…”
He ran his tongue over his teeth as if trying to dislodge a trapped peanut skin. The moist sound was unbearable.
“Classy,” Anna commented dryly. “May I offer you a toothpick?”
He ignored her. “So, you trained at Aux Trois Cousins, huh?”
“I was a server there. I wasn’t in the kitchen.”
“And after that?”
“I went to train with a chef—”
“Funny,” the detective cut in. “Word is you got along real well with that sous-chef you worked with—”
“Gossip can be misleading. I told you: I was front of house, not back. Waitress, not cook.”
“Then you must have known Commissioner Jabert.”
“He was a regular customer back then. Had his own personal table.”
“We had over three hundred diners a day. Aux Trois Cousins had a lot of regulars back then. I’m sure it still does.”
“Perhaps. Let’s hope fewer of them are dying of food poisoning. It’s kind of curious, don’t you think? Jabert dies suddenly, and, not long after, you pack up and disappear to the other side of the world. Sounds like a pretty hasty exit to me…”
Anna held her breath. She’d turned as green as the wild asparagus.
“And now,” the inspector continued smugly, “here we are again. Prosecutor Salinas dies – poisoned – and the prime suspect is your lover. Just an unfortunate coincidence, I’m sure.
But still, on the eve of your restaurant’s grand opening, and two people connected to you dying from poison…
well, speaking of gossip, if that got around it might make people think twice about sampling your cooking. ” He put a hand on Anna’s shoulder.
“Touch me again and you’ll regret it,” she snapped, pulling away.
“What, are you going to poison me too?” the man drawled, putting his hands in his pockets.
Anna was finding his arrogance more and more unsettling. She was starting to see exactly where this was headed.
“You know, the circumstances of Commissioner Jabert’s death have never been explained. Maybe I should take another look, seeing as he was a colleague and all. Unless…” he said, for the second time.
Anna pretended not to understand what he was insinuating.
“Anyone can make a mistake. Let’s just imagine, for instance, that you weren’t actually with your bookseller boyfriend the day the prosecutor got killed.
If you were willing to admit that, well…
maybe I’d forget everything I’ve learned about you.
Why don’t you sleep on it? I’ll give you until tomorrow. ”
With a predatory smile, the detective took his leave.
In the walk-in fridge, Mitch slowly eased the door shut, waited a few beats, then opened it again.
“I think this is everything,” he said, setting a full crate down on the counter.
Anna turned to face him, struggling to hide the rage coursing through her veins.
That rage, she knew it all too well. It reminded her of another night, long ago, outside Aux Trois Cousins.
She went to the sink and washed her hands with the rough side of a sponge, scrubbing so fiercely that the skin turned pink and raw.
“I read your recipe. It’s amazing. Why did you wait so long to start your own restaurant?” Mitch asked, wrapping his arms around her from behind and gently taking away the sponge.
Anna stiffened, then turned around in Mitch’s arms. Looking straight into his eyes, she told him what no one other than José had ever known.
“Because I was assaulted. By a police officer. Outside my workplace. I wanted revenge, and I kind of… killed him. Which delayed my plans a bit.”
Mitch was speechless. He had no words for the pain that ripped through him for the woman he loved. His eyes welled up. He held her tightly in his arms, and the tenderness of his embrace momentarily pushed away the shadows, the misery, the past.
“So,” he whispered after a while, “did you also kind of kill Salinas… to avenge me?”
“Mitch, we need to find a culprit who will clear our names. Fast.”
* * *
Anna closed the restaurant and took Mitch back to her place.
This time, it wasn’t about taste-testing a new recipe.
She had him take a seat in the living room and stood opposite him, leaning against her china cupboard, staring at him intently, like she was trying to decide once and for all which of his ears was bigger.
“What’s wrong?” Mitch finally asked.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“I’m okay. I promise.”
“Mitch, we’ve discussed this: you’re a terrible liar.
Don’t misunderstand me; it’s one of the things I love about you.
But it’s time you told me the truth. When I asked you how someone could have got into your bookshop without breaking in and setting off the alarm, it almost made you sick.
Because someone immediately came to your mind.
It was written all over your face. Even bigger than 1Q84 on the cover of the Murakami you sold me,” she finished, taking the book out of a drawer in the china cabinet.
Mitch’s eyes widened. “You kept it all this time?”
“I’m a very loyal friend. I’m loyal, period. Now answer the question.”
Mitch bowed his head, accepting defeat.
“I’d given a copy of my keys to Madame Ateltow, and she knew the alarm code. She didn’t want to prepare her lectures at home, I don’t know why, so she’d come during my lunch break sometimes and practice down in the cellar. But it can’t be her.”
“Why not?”
“Because when something seems too awful to be true, it usually is,” he said, trying not to look even more depressed than he already was.
“Hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty sure that saying applies when things are too good to be true.”
“Logically, it should work both ways. She was the person who encouraged me to see the bigger picture. When that bill was passed, the only way I could think of to get around it was to lend banned books out instead of selling them. Some resistance, right? Good God, Anna, she was my literature teacher. And what a teacher… books were her whole world.”
“Didn’t she recently switch from books to music?”
“I don’t think that’s very funny.”
“Too bad, I thought it was pretty clever.”
“Listen, maybe the best thing would be to speak to her directly,” she proposed carefully, trying not to aggravate him further.
“Accuse her directly, you mean?”
“That’s not what I said. But you could look at it that way.
Look, it’s getting late, and I really need to work on a recipe.
Two a day – that’s the minimum if I want to open on time.
And I lost a lot of time today. That isn’t what I meant,” she backtracked hurriedly, “just that I missed a few hours of work. I’d love a hand. ”
Mitch limped into the kitchen, tied on an apron, and waited for instructions. Meanwhile, Anna hadn’t moved.
“What are you doing?” she called after him.
He looked at her, deadpan.
“Did I say something about cooking?” she asked innocently.
“You did.”
“I was just trying to lighten the mood.”
This wasn’t actually true; she really did want to get back to work, but when Mitch had moved to help her without even suggesting that they had more urgent things to deal with than making a pastilla, Anna had come to her senses for the both of them.
“If you aren’t ready to confront your old teacher yet, let’s at least go and see her lover,” she suggested.
“Verner?”
“Does she have more than one?”
Mitch glanced at his watch and took off the apron.
“His class finishes in half an hour,” he said, grabbing the keys to the van.
But when they pulled into the conservatoire car park, they found all the spaces empty. They entered the building through the stage door. The theatre was deserted. A muffled noise came from backstage. Mitch led Anna into the wings.
Verner was slouched in an armchair, wearing a dressing gown and holding a glass of whiskey.