CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Shit,” muttered Wilson. “Tell us again what it smells like.”
“Woodsy, pine and eucalyptus. Almost like a medicine. You can imagine not wanting to use that in large quantities in cooking. It could make your food smell and taste medicinal, like a cold syrup,” said Casey.
“But it causes paralysis?” frowned Alec.
“Yep.”
“Attention bakers, we ask that you clean your stations and be prepared to begin tomorrow on the pie competition. We will begin precisely at nine a.m. Remember, you are to bake three different pies, all ready to be tasted.”
“Let’s clean up and head to the hotel. This is getting weirder by the moment. For now, no one seems to have paralysis,” said Luke.
“What about all these holiday decorations? Do we have to take those down?” asked Rett.
“No, the organizers will do that. Tomorrow it will be gone, replaced with red-checkered table cloths, like a picnic,” said Sara.
An hour later their items were locked, secured, and safe beneath G.R.I.P. approved protection devices. Back at the hotel, they changed their clothes and walked to dinner, hoping to just relax without any drama.
“We still can’t figure out how anyone is getting in and out of there without being seen on the cameras,” said AJ.
“We’ve checked everything. The routine is the same.
Judges come in first thing in the morning.
Check the tables to be sure they’re clean and nothing has been tampered with or looks out of place.
“After that, support staff comes in to ensure that waste receptacles are in place and instructions for the days event are on the tables. When breakfast is done, the doors open and contestants come in, ready for the day, all at once. Throughout the day, observers come in but they are kept a safe distance from the tables by roped off sections.”
“And the end of the day?” frowned RJ.
“Same process. Bakers clean up, seal their items and secure them, judges review the stations to be sure they’re cleaned acceptably, and then custodial staff empties the trash and cleans the floors. I can tell you that not one person from that staff has touched the tables.”
“Then what the fuck is happening in there?” asked Luke.
“I don’t know,” said AJ. “I don’t know and that scares me more than anything.”
They looked up from their plates to see Adrian come through the door. He scanned the room, finding their table and walked toward them with a grave expression.
“Adrian, you look like you’ve got bad news?” frowned Wilson.
“I just heard from one of the other bakers that Marcia died this afternoon.”
“Wh-what?” gasped Taylor. “How is that possible?”
“She was staying at the Grand Orleans with her husband. He went out for a run and told her to order room service so they could eat together when he got back. When he arrived, she was on the floor, not breathing or moving. The EMT’s said it appeared she’d choked on her food due to paralysis. How? How is this possible?”
“Jamaican ginger,” whispered the entire team.
“What?” he asked staring at them.
“We smelled it when we picked up our award,” said Taylor. “We all did. It was that medicinal smell when it’s overused.”
“That was what I smelled,” he said to himself. They all stared at him. “When I went up on stage I smelled it and thought, ‘great someone is sick’. All I could think of was that I was going to catch whatever they had. It was like a cough syrup smell to me.” His nose wrinkled and the others nodded.
“Someone changed out her ginger for Jamaican ginger in the highest strength possible,” said Janie.
“I don’t think I can keep doing this,” said Adrian shaking his head. “That’s three dead. Three. Arsenic, cyanide and now this!”
“Stay calm, Adrian,” said Luke. “If it will make you feel better, we can put a man or two at your station.”
“A man or two? I don’t need more bakers,” he frowned.
“Adrian,” smiled Sara, “my husband works for a security agency. The best in the world.” His mouth formed a perfect “O” and he nodded.
“You have no idea how much sense that makes now,” he said with a small grin. “I looked at all these men and thought, damn those are some lucky girls. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” smirked Tailor. “We can hang with your team tomorrow if you like.”
“Maybe one of you,” he said with a serious expression.
“Always in pairs, brother,” said Alec. “Tailor and I will sit with you tomorrow.”
“I can’t thank you enough,” he said. “They still have no clue who killed Gloria or Jacques, and now we’re almost positive that Marcia was murdered as well. Who would do this?”
“I don’t know but we’re going to find out,” said Wilson. “Take a seat. Let’s talk about what we know.”