Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) (11 page)

This did elicit a smile from me. “When can I go back to work?”

“You’ll be discharged tomorrow. We’ll put you in a cast, give you a pair of crutches, and as long as you don’t put any weight on that foot, you can go back to work whenever you feel up to it. What kind of work do you do?”

I told him.

He grimaced. “So you’re on your feet all day.” He thought for a second. “If you got yourself a stool and promised to never, ever put so much as your foot on the floor. But before you run off to buy a stool, I suggest you take a couple of days off. You might want to get comfortable walking around with crutches. We wouldn’t want you stumbling and coming down on the wrong foot, now would we?”

I shuddered. The very idea was painful.

*

A few hours later I was back in my room, my leg held high on a stack of pillows. The whining woman in the next bed had been replaced by an old woman. Judging by her almost skeletal appearance and her shrunken-apple of a face, she must have been ancient. She snored with her mouth open and let out loud farts every few seconds. But even that was preferable to the ongoing litany of complaints from my previous neighbor.

By midafternoon, I was feeling better. The queasiness and grogginess had passed, and I was famished and dying to hear Mitchell’s voice.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Toni sauntered in, bearing—joy of joys—a restaurant doggie bag. “I figured you’d have had enough of hospital food by now.” She noticed my wrapped-up ankle and her eyebrows jumped. “Well, that should keep me safe from bears.”

“What in the world are you talking about?”

“If I ever come across a bear, I don’t have to outrun it. As long as I can outrun you, I’ll be safe.”

Trust Toni to turn even the worst of times into a joke. I chuckled. “Gee, thanks. I’ll remember never to go hiking with you.”

She stopped and took a whiff. “Oh phe-ew, it stinks in here.” She waved in a vain attempt to shoo the odor away.

I put a finger to my mouth and pointed at the curtain behind which was my elderly roommate. “She’s an old woman,” I whispered. As if on cue, the old woman let out a ripper.

Toni rolled her eyes. “Can’t you ask the nurse to cork her?”

“Toni, shhh. She might hear you.”

“I wish she would. If I ever get so old I can’t even hold back from farting in public, just shoot me.” She threw her coat on the nearby chair, tossed her hair and perched herself on the edge of the bed. She dangled the doggie bag before me. “Did you have lunch yet?”

“They brought me soggy vegetables, some kind of grayish meat and a bowl of green gelatin. Yuck.” I struggled to sit up. “Can you hand me that gadget?”

She placed the bag on the bedside table, picked up the control button and pressed it until the bed squeaked to a sitting position. “There, is that better?”

“Much. Thanks.” And then I asked her what was really on my mind. “Did you call Mitchell?”

She squirmed, avoiding my eyes. “I tried to reach him but the call went straight to voice mail. I thought it better to speak directly to him rather than leave him a message.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t convinced she’d even tried. I’d seen that guilty look on her face.

“But I promise I’ll try again later. Why don’t you look in the bag?”

I stared at it, famished. “What did you bring me?”

“Ah, so you’re hungry. Well, that’s a good sign.”

“I’m not sick, Toni. I broke an ankle. Besides when have you ever seen me not be hungry?”

“You’ve been doing a good job of sticking to your diet.”

Ha
, little did she know.

She opened the bag, pulled out a plastic container and tore off the cover. She handed it to me along with a knife and fork, and the delicious aroma of tomato sauce and garlic filled the air.

My salivary glands went into instant overdrive. “It smells divine.”

“You’re going to love it—another one of Charles’s wonderful creations, chicken Parmesan and only two hundred and ninety calories per serving.”

She tucked a napkin under my chin, bib style, and I dug in. “Heavens, this is so good.” I took another bite. “Did you call the editor at
The Toronto Daily?
”

“I told you I would. And it’s all set up. As it turns out, she’s decided to hold the article back a couple of weeks. That’ll give us time to come up with a few good recipes, and then we can start the column at the same time the article comes out. Anyhow, that was her suggestion.”

“Great idea,” I said through another mouthful. “In a few weeks the rush from the TV interview might have slowed down. We’ll probably need another plug by then. How are the dogs?”

“They’re fine. I stayed overnight and then on my way here from the restaurant I stopped by again. I let Jackie out back, filled the bowls and changed the wee-wee pads.” She wrinkled her nose. “Boy, they sure poop a lot for such tiny little things.”

“Dogs do poop, you know, which is why you have to take them out regularly. Are you sure you’re ready to commit to the responsibility of a dog? You’d have to take Trouble out at least three times a day. You’d better let me know now if I have to start looking for another home for him.”

She put up her hand, swearing on an invisible Bible. “I promise Trouble is coming home with me, and I will take excellent care of him.”

“Good, I don’t know what I would do if you suddenly announced you’d changed your mind. I can handle Jackie and one pup, but no more.” After falling in love with all three newborn puppies, I’d decided to keep one, the little female I’d already named Sugar. I just knew she’d wear her name well. I gestured toward my ankle. “You’d be a real friend if you took him as soon as possible.” I returned to my meal, expecting her to put up some objection.

She quietly watched me eat for a few minutes, looking preoccupied. She cleared her throat. “Are you ready for the bad news?”

I looked up at her and put down my fork. “Give it to me.”

Her mouth tightened. “It turns out that Jake hasn’t been entirely forthcoming. He’s been keeping a secret from us.”

What was she talking about—cooking the books, embezzling? I dismissed each thought just as quickly as it popped into my mind. I couldn’t imagine Jake doing anything illegal. “Keeping what exactly?”

She gave me a concerned look. “I don’t want you to get excited now.”

“Toni! When somebody tells me to not get excited, it only makes me worry more. Cut to the chase, will you.”

“It turns out he got a phone call from some woman during our television interview.” She stared at me, watching for my reaction.

I shrugged. “So?”

“He said she sounded hysterical, screaming something about us stealing what was rightfully hers, and she was going to see us all dead.”

I gaped at her. “Why didn’t he tell us earlier?”

“Don’t be upset with him. I would have done the same thing. We’d just given a great interview. Reservations were coming in faster than we could take them. He didn’t want to put a damper on our day. Besides, he figured it was just the same mental patient who made those wild accusations to you and Charles and that she wasn’t dangerous.”

“Was he sure she was the same woman?”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Gee, I don’t know. I mean—how many lunatics would you say are running around out there, imagining we somehow stole their restaurant?”

“I know. I know.” I suddenly clicked on what she’d just said. “And now she wants
all
of us dead. That means you’re in danger too—maybe even the guys. Did Jake check the call display? Maybe we can locate her.”

She gave me a sardonic smile. “Of course he checked. But it seems our lunatic was smart enough to call from a confidential number.”

“Figures.” I must have grimaced because she leaned over, and put on her solicitous voice.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?”

“Okay, I guess.”

“Make sure they give you lots of Demerol. That’s the only positive thing that can come out of this.”

“I may be nice and high on painkillers right now, but I’m really low on morale. So it’s pretty much a wash.” And then, with a catch in my throat I said, “Oh, Toni, what are we going to do? Do you think her threats are serious? That she’s really coming after us?”

She tilted her head, looking serious but surprisingly calm under the circumstances. “It sure sounds that way.”

“Why don’t you look more scared?”

“Hey, like I always say, being alive is a lot more dangerous than being dead.”

“You are so full of it, Toni Lawford,” I said, chuckling. “If you thought for one minute that you were in danger, you’d be the first to scream bloody murder. What gives?”

She put a finger to her mouth, opened her purse and angled it so I could see inside.

I gasped. “You’ve got a gun?”

“I told you to be quiet,” she said, glancing furtively around. “I don’t want the whole world to know.”

“Are you crazy?” I whispered. “You don’t even know how to use a gun—or do you?” I realized there were still a few things I didn’t know about my friend. Maybe she did know how to shoot.
Toni aiming a gun—now
there
is a scary thought.

She snapped her purse shut. “It’s not as if we can count on the cops to protect us, is it?”

I grimaced at the truth of that statement. “I told Crawford and Sanders about that woman’s threats. I described her as well as I could, but I doubt they’ll even try to find her. But back to the gun—you don’t know how to use it, do you?”

She looked at me as if I had rocks in my head. “Of course I do. Don’t you remember me telling you about that movie where I played the detective? Well, I had to take shooting lessons—you know—so I’d look like I knew what I was doing.”

I let my head drop back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling. “Have I ever told you, you drive me crazy?”

She gave me a crooked smile. “Oh yeah? Well it’s a short drive.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“You don’t believe I can shoot, do you?” She was already fumbling with the latch on her purse. Oh God. The last thing I needed was a demonstration.

“I believe you. I believe you.”

She studied me, trying—no doubt—to determine whether I meant it.

“Really,” I added, and this seemed to convince her.

She gave me a little self-satisfied smile. “I don’t believe in gun control. I believe in
idiot
control.” She leaned over and patted my hand. “Just so you know, I called Steven and told him everything that happened—about that woman and her threats.”

Steven was one of the best defense attorneys in Toronto. He had once been very kind to me, helping me with invaluable legal advice, which I had followed—at least for the most part. Without him, I might have gone to jail and, for all I knew, could still be there. It was during that time that he and Toni began seeing each other again. As far as I was concerned, that meant their reconciliation was entirely because of me. Toni
owed
me.

“Getting back to the hit-and-run,” I said, “did anybody take down the license plate?”

She shook her head solemnly.

“What about the driver? Was it a man or a woman?”

Again, she shook her head.

“Did anybody at least recognize the make and model?”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Sure, at least half a dozen people did. One person was sure it was a Lexus. Another swore it was an Infiniti. His wife disagreed, said it was a Volvo. And for what it’s worth, Jake is convinced it was an Audi.”

“Some help.”

“The only thing everyone did agree on was that it was big and dark—either navy, dark green or black.”

“Well, at least we know it was some kind of big expensive car. That’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Eh, I don’t think that will help. There are probably a hundred thousand luxury sedans in Forest Hills alone,” she said, naming one of Toronto’s most affluent neighborhoods.

This subject was starting to give me a headache. It was time to change it. “I have another problem. You know me. I’ll go crazy if I stay home by myself. I want to go back to work, but how am I supposed to get around with a broken ankle?”

“Give yourself a break, will you? It wouldn’t kill you to take a few days off, you know. The restaurant won’t go under if the guys and I take over while you recover.” Her eyes lit with sudden understanding. “That’s it, isn’t it? The reason you want to get back isn’t because you’re bored. It’s because you don’t trust anybody else to run the business.”

She was more right than I cared to admit. I had a brief vision of the kitchen looking like a cafeteria food fight and almost groaned out loud.

“It’s not the restaurant I’m worried about. It’s my sanity.”

“Oh, well, in that case don’t worry. It’s already too late.”

I tried to keep a straight face but I could feel a smile peeking out from the corners of my mouth. I gave in and laughed.

“I can’t stay too long. I took off as soon as the worst of the lunch rush was over. I told the guys to put up a sign that we’d reopen at five. And Jennifer is such a help.”