1 Death on Eat Street (28 page)

All of that led to lunch at the small café, Lavender Blue. I loved the quaint, hole-in-the-wall atmosphere, and the food was fantastic. I ordered my usual roasted vegetable orzo and sat back with my lime water to wait.

Across the crowded room, I saw Tommy Lee with Betty from the bank. It still amazed me that the two of them had managed to find each other. It annoyed me a little, too, even though I knew I was better off without him in my new life.

I was depressed, despite telling myself all those wonderful things about being in business and doing what I really wanted to do. I’d never thought of myself as one of those women who had to have a man all the time. But maybe I was.

That was even more depressing. I ended up splurging for the Grand Chocolate Surprise. It was really good. Then I started feeling guilty. Maybe that was better than being depressed.

I spoke with Lavender, who owned the café. We’d talked before about food, and many other subjects relating to food. I’d admired her for the last few years since I’d started coming there. She was in her midforties, and was very successful. She was also not afraid to be herself. I could tell because her long, straight hair was dyed a soft shade of purple. She was famous for it.

“That’s wonderful news, Zoe.” She held my hands and smiled. “I can see looking at you how good it’s been.”

“It hasn’t been without its problems,” I confided. “I’m still not sure if I’m going to make it.”

“Of course you will. If not this time, then the next. This place isn’t my first attempt at owning my own restaurant.” She gestured at the soft lighting and plants. “There have been failures. Each time, I got back up, saved my money, and tried again. You will, too.”

Even though she’d managed to pinpoint my greatest fear, I felt much better when I left. Even the rain had stopped when I got outside. It made me feel like everything was going to be okay. People who didn’t know me might not think I could do this, but I knew they were wrong.

I grabbed a taxi and headed back to my father’s apartment, full of chocolate and positive energy. I paid the driver when I got there, and stepped out on the sidewalk. The doorman tipped his hat to me.

“Zoe!”

I glanced up, and there was Marty. I got the oddest little
zing
when I saw him. It wasn’t a good thing. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Ollie told me. You have to come with me. We found Delia.”

In all fairness, I
had
told Ollie where I was going to be staying in case of an emergency. This seemed to constitute that emergency. I didn’t blame him for telling Marty where I was.

Still, all the hair stood up on the back of my neck. I wondered what was wrong.

I was surprised that Marty had come to get me. Why hadn’t Ollie called me to let me know that something had happened? “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“She seems to be fine, Zoe. I brought my car so we could go right over and get her.”

I looked at him with his old jeans and T-shirt barely covering his tummy. Beyond him, parked on the street, was an old Buick that had seen better days. I hadn’t even realized that he had a car. It made sense then why Ollie hadn’t called and why Marty had come to get me.

I shivered a little, despite the warm afternoon sun on my head. Something still felt wrong, no matter how I tried to talk myself out of it.

“Did you call the police?” I noticed the doorman’s ears perked up when I mentioned the police.

“You know how we are with the police.” Marty shrugged. “We thought about getting you and figuring out what to do after.”

“Okay.” I glanced at my watch. I still had an hour before I had to be at police headquarters to be fitted for the wire they wanted me to wear. “Let me drop my stuff off upstairs. I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’ll go with you.” Marty glanced at the doorman. “He doesn’t look too happy about me hanging around. I think he might ask me to leave before you get back.”

It made sense. It all made sense.

Still, I had a growing fear in the pit of my stomach.

I smiled at the doorman, who knew me well. “We’re going upstairs for a minute, Bodie.”

Bodie nodded, his critical eyes on Marty. “Whatever you say, Miss Chase.” He used to be a security guard. He seemed to observe the world with as much suspicion as if he’d been a police officer. But a guest was a guest.

Marty and I walked through the posh lobby. There were a large number of people hanging around, especially for midday on Friday. I thought they were probably police officers, undercover, assigned by Detective Latoure. I smiled at each of them in case my life might be in their hands.

“Nice place,” Marty whispered. “Do you live here when you’re not at the diner?”

“No. My dad lives here. I live at the diner. I couldn’t afford this.”

He shrugged, and we walked into the elevator together.

I pressed the button for the fourth floor. “Where is she?”

“She’s been tied up in the basement area under the shopping center the whole time. We were right on top of her and didn’t realize.”

“Maybe we should call the police and an ambulance. Traffic was bad out today. They could be there before us.” I took out my cell phone. “I know you don’t like the police, but I don’t have any problem calling them. Delia could be dehydrated or something.”

“No. She’s fine. She said she’s been fed regularly, and she’s okay. We don’t have to worry.”

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and we got out. “Still, I think I’d feel better if someone takes a look at her. There could be complications. And where is the man who kidnapped her? The police should be there in case he shows up.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Marty suggested.

Did he seem a little more nervous than usual?

It could be this setting, I thought.

I opened the door to my father’s apartment. Silence greeted me, which was good. I knew Crème Brûlée was happy if he wasn’t howling.

I put everything down on the chair by the door, glad to get it out of my arms. “I’ll call the police. I won’t mention the shelter, or you. I’d feel better knowing everyone was safe from the killer. If he doesn’t know we’ve found Delia, he could be on his way back.”

I looked at Marty as I spoke. A change came over his face. He didn’t look friendly and helpful as usual. To make matters worse, he took a large, ugly gun from his jacket pocket.

“No one is going to get hurt, Zoe, as long as you hand over that recipe.”

“Marty?” My knees felt a little weak. So much for my good/bad radar. I think it was trying to kick in, but it was too late.

I quickly reminded myself that I had been really preoccupied since I’d met him. I probably needed to pay more attention to the people around me. Usually, I did that, but perhaps I’d been slack since I opened my business. I definitely didn’t see this coming.

“Let’s not make a big deal out of this. You give me the Jefferson recipe, and I’ll leave you here for your rich daddy to find. I think that’s a fair trade.”

“But you’ve been at the shelter for years. Ollie told me so. You’re the glue that holds them together.”

“Yeah, well, it was too good a deal to pass up. Chef Art contacted me about keeping an eye on Delia, in case she and Terry were in on the theft of the recipe. I knew this was
my
time. I knew I could take that recipe from Terry, and sell it to Chef Art myself. Just like
you’ve
been planning.”

I’d forgotten for a moment that he thought I was supposedly selling the
real
recipe to Chef Art at the dinner tonight. It was the story I’d told everyone.

It was a good thing he wasn’t clued in on the
whole
plan.

At least it
seemed
like a good thing.

“And Delia really is under the shopping center, and she’s okay?”

“She’s fine. I had no reason to hurt her. I was even thinking she might like to leave with me once I have a million bucks in my pocket. Delia is fun.”

“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. My mind kind of blanked out.

What was I going to do?

“So, hand it over. I’ll tie you up on one of those cushy chairs and get out of here. No reason to panic or get all bent out of shape. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

I wondered if he’d made that promise to Terry and Don. It was enough to jump-start my mind. I had to do something fast.

It didn’t matter that he took the fake recipe from me. The chances were that he’d never know the difference.

But it also meant he’d get away. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to delay for a few minutes. There was also the worry that he might not only tie me up and leave once he had the recipe.

“I don’t have it with me.”

The gun came closer to my face. “What do you mean?”

“Miguel kept it with him. He was afraid I’d lose it before we could sell it to Chef Art.”

“I knew Miguel was too good to be true. All that talk about helping people—he’s been your accomplice through the whole thing, hasn’t he?”

I thought about Miguel.
Did I want to bring him into this?
It seemed like my only way out. “Yes. It was all his idea.”

Marty looked unhappy about that. He rubbed his chin but kept the gun pointed squarely at me. “But you can get it, right?”

“Yes.” My mind raced ahead to all the possibilities. “One phone call. He’s supposed to bring it over later. I could ask him to bring it now.”

“Okay. Do it.”

I looked at my cell phone and regretfully erased 911. I put in Miguel’s number and waited while the phone rang.

“Put it on speaker.” Marty put the gun to my head. “Tell him to get it over here right away. That’s it. If you say anything about me, you’re dead. Got it?”

“I’ve got it.”

Miguel picked up the phone. “Hi, Zoe. What’s up?”

“Can you bring the Jefferson recipe over right away?”

“What?”

I glanced at Marty. “I need you to bring the
real
recipe to my dad’s apartment right away.”

“The
real
recipe?”

This wasn’t going to be easy. “Yes. I only have the forgery. I need the
real
thing. Right away.”

Before Miguel could answer, Marty took the phone from me and turned it off.

“That’s enough. We’ll wait for him to get here. Sit down over there, Zoe. I’m going to have to tie you up to keep you from trying something stupid and heroic.”

I sat in the side chair. Marty had come well prepared. He took some duct tape out of his pocket and used it like a rope to tie me to the chair. He was about to put duct tape on my mouth when I stopped him.

“How am I going to tell Miguel to come in when he gets here?”

“I’ll take care of that. You sit back and let it happen, okay?”

It didn’t seem like I had much choice. He put the duct tape across my mouth. I hoped Miguel somehow understood that I was in trouble. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pick up on that from what I’d told him. I hoped he could.

Marty knelt on the carpet at my feet and began duct-taping my legs to the chair. I heard a sound from the bedroom door. Crème Brûlée was coming in to see what was going on.

“Shoo!” Marty tried to flick him away from the chair.

Crème Brûlée looked up at me and meowed loudly. He was probably hungry, and he didn’t like to be ignored.

“I said get away, cat.” Marty gave him a push with his hand.

That was a little too personal for Crème Brûlée. He yowled and sank his teeth into Marty’s hand. Marty slung him back on the carpet. As I was about to feel sorry for my cat, Crème Brûlée came back like a warrior.

He jumped on Marty’s back as Marty was trying to keep my legs still. For once I was glad my kitty was so fierce. Crème Brûlée bit the back of Marty’s neck and dug his claws in. Marty jumped up and down, even rolled over trying to dislodge him. He couldn’t budge Crème Brûlée.

I would’ve applauded my cat, if I’d been able to move my arms and hands.

Marty had dropped his gun on the floor as he’d tried to get Crème Brûlée off of him. He hadn’t noticed it yet. I was afraid, when he did, that Marty might shoot him.

“Get off of me, you little monster!” Marty finally managed to get Crème Brûlée off of his back and held him by the scruff of his neck. He stalked to the front door as Crème Brûlée continued to scratch at him and hiss.

Marty opened the door, ostensibly to throw Crème Brûlée out into the hall. Miguel and two police officers were standing right outside.

Forgetting for a moment that he was holding a fully loaded cat, Marty appeared stunned by the three men at the door. Crème Brûlée took his opportunity to twist his big body over. He latched onto Marty’s arm with his teeth and claws.

Marty let out a scream. “Get this thing off of me!”

The two police officers grabbed him. At that point, Crème Brûlée dropped gracefully to the carpet. He sauntered over to where I was tied up and sat down to complain that his food bowl was empty.

Miguel rushed over and quickly got the duct tape off of me. Not a pleasant experience.

I threw my arms around his neck and thanked him repeatedly. “I didn’t know if you’d get the idea over the phone. Thanks for rescuing me.”

“I don’t think I should get the credit for that.” He glanced at Crème Brûlée. “You really need an attack cat warning sign.”

I reached down and lifted Crème Brûlée, hugging him, too. He bit my nose, licking it once after, but it was clear he was done playing around.

“He’s hungry.” I grinned at Miguel. “I’ll be right back.”

When I returned, there were more police officers, including Detective Latoure. Miguel was answering questions. Marty was gone.

“I’m glad this worked out okay,” Detective Latoure said. “I think we have the murder weapon, and enough evidence to put Marty away for a long time.”

“Thank goodness.” I told her about Delia. She dispatched a paramedic unit and a police car. “I hope he was telling the truth about where to find her.”

“He probably thought he had nothing to lose by telling you,” Patti said. “People like to brag about what they’ve done. Most of the time, they are their own worst enemies.”

“Well, I was really glad to see Miguel. I was hoping he’d understand. I couldn’t say much.”

Miguel smiled. “Since I knew I didn’t have the
real
recipe, and we were thinking someone could make a move on you before you could accomplish the fake sale to Chef Art, it wasn’t too hard to figure out. I’m glad you’re okay, Zoe.”

Detective Latoure shook her head. “I hope you’ve learned something from this, Zoe. Leave this kind of thing to the professionals.”

“Don’t worry. It will never happen again.”