Murder Most Finicky (25 page)

Chapter 48

Maria had probably heard the entire thing, given her white face and pursed lips. Stan didn't care. As long as she helped her search. And search they did, the entire suite, but found no trace of Nutty. Nothing. He didn't come out for food; he wasn't hiding under furniture. He simply wasn't anywhere. At some point, Sheldon slipped out. Maria, to her credit, went with Stan to search the hall and even other floors, in case Nutty had gotten out and onto an elevator or into the stairwell. Stan alerted security, who promised to keep an eye out. They returned to the suite at five
A.M.
Therese was nowhere in sight either. Stan doubted she'd stolen the cat, though—she'd barely given Nutty a second glance this whole time.

Stan cried herself to a restless sleep. She jolted awake less than two hours later, hoping it had all been a bad dream. But reality settled onto her like the morning dew. It wasn't a bad dream. She'd left Nutty alone in a hotel full of lunatics, and now he was gone.

She'd slept with her bedroom door bolted and the desk chair shoved under the knob. She didn't trust any of them. Gaston had curled up next to her. She'd welcomed the company and cried into his fur. He was a sweet dog. Stan was glad that she'd been able to save him. At least going to New York hadn't been a completely horrible experience.

Her head pounded so bad she thought she had a migraine. That would not do at all. She needed her wits about her to face this day. First, Stan called the front desk and asked for Lucy. When she got her voice mail, she left a message about what had happened and begged for any help she could give. Next she called Jake.

As soon as she heard his voice, fuzzy with sleep, she lost it again. She didn't think she'd cried this hard when her father died.

“Stan? What's happening? Are you all right?” He snapped to a more awake state. “I'm coming to get you. This is stupid. I'll leave now.”

“I can't . . . I can't leave tonight. I have to come back to the hotel after this godforsaken dinner.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nutty's m-missing.”

“What? How?”

“I got home late. Well, early. You know that, though—I'm sure Jessie told you about our adventure. And he wasn't in my room when I got home.”

“That crazy lady have him? The one who keeps feeding him?”

“No. I went straight to her room. He's definitely not there. She helped me look for most of the night.”

Jake didn't sound convinced. “That doesn't mean anything. You think she stole him and took him somewhere?”

“I don't know. I have no idea what to think. You were right, Jake. This weekend was a horrible idea. And now Nutty's gone. He must be so scared.” Just the thought of her fur baby lost in the hotel, or even worse, outside, terrified her.

“I didn't think it was a bad idea, babe. I think that Allyn character is bad news. There's a difference. Look. I'll see if Jessie can be ready early. We'll come up and search for Nutty while you do your dinner thing.”

As usual, he had a solution.

“
Yes
. Thank you. I have to go look some more before the
Foodie
reporter comes.”

“Okay. Don't worry—we'll find him.”

“I hope so,” Stan said. “He's the reason Pawsitively Organic exists. It wouldn't even be worth it without him. And there's something else.”

“I'm afraid to ask.”

“My mother is one of the investors Sheldon invited.”

Silence. Stan figured Jake would throw Sheldon into the ocean when he arrived. “What a slimy piece of—”

“Jake? I told him I'm done with him. The only way there'll be a shop in Frog Ledge is if it's our shop.”

“You—okay. Okay, good. Cool. We'll figure out the shop.” He sounded more surprised than anything. She knew the feeling. She'd surprised herself.

She hung up and miserably pulled the covers back over her head. She wanted to curl in a ball and cry, then go look for her baby again. But she had to get out of bed and put on a show today for a bunch of people who expected poise, grace, and delicious food. Not to mention a cat who would likely be picky as all get-out. Whatever. She had no stake in the game anymore. If the whole dinner crashed and burned, it wasn't her problem.

Chapter 49

Stan dragged herself into the shower and let the hot water wake her up. After she dried off and dressed, she went downstairs with Gaston. Maria was in the kitchen pouring coffee. When she saw Stan, she sent her a pitying look and handed her a steaming mug. Then she noticed the dog.

“Who is this?” She held a hand out to Gaston. He approached cautiously, tail wagging, and sniffed, then licked her hand. “When did he come in?”

“Last night. His name's Gaston. He needs a home. It's a long story.” She didn't want to get into the whole Pierre's dog thing.

“He's gorgeous. How are you feeling?”

“Like crap.” Stan took the mug and sipped. “I'm going to take Gaston out, then look around the hotel for Nutty again.”

“You are?” Maria asked, checking her watch.

“Yeah. I am. Why?”

“No reason. Sheldon'll want us downstairs shortly, I imagine. And the photographer will be here soon.”

“Sheldon can get started without me.” Stan swallowed more coffee, then set her mug down. “Ready, G?”

Gaston wagged. She led him out the door, downstairs, and outside to do his business. While she waited for him, she thought about seeing her mother today, and Char's advice. She wondered if Patricia'd heard about Caitlyn's plight yet.

Gaston finished, sat, looked at her, and wagged. “Done? Good job.” She gave him one of Nutty's treats, then led him inside. She stopped at the front desk and asked for Lucy.

“Let me see if she's in,” the clerk said, and picked up a phone. A minute later Lucy came out from a room behind the counter.

“Stan? What can I do for you today?”

“I just wondered if you'd heard my message. About Nutty.”

Lucy frowned. “I haven't been to my office yet. What's wrong?”

“He's missing.”

“
Missing
? What do you mean, missing?”

She repeated the sad story for the third time that morning.

“That's impossible. I'm going to get some folks to help you.”

“I already told security.”

“That's okay. I'll get them to make it a priority.”

“We have to leave soon. To go to the mansion.”

“Then they'll look while you're gone. Robert, can you call Miguel and tell him I need six, maybe eight people for a special project?” she asked the man behind the desk. “Leave me a picture,” she said to Stan. “Who's the pup?”

“Long story.”

Lucy smiled. “Why do I get the sense most things with you are a long story?” She squeezed Stan's arm. “We'll find him.”

“Thank you.”

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan turned.

“Any word on Kyle?”

Stan shook her head. “Nothing.”

 

 

Stan brought Gaston to the kitchen with her. No way would she leave another animal alone in her suite. She probably should ask Lucy to keep him for the day. Sheldon had already started his briefing when she entered. The only chef there besides her was Maria. They were the last two standing. Tyler, Therese, and Joaquin stood silently by.

Sheldon looked so bright eyed and bushy tailed that Stan couldn't help but wonder if he'd had some chemical help. He hadn't looked that good a few hours ago when she was revealing all his dirty little secrets. But the prospect of a photo spread in the top food magazine must've been a good incentive to pull himself together.

“The Chanler staff has retrieved everything on our original menu list, as well as some alternate items,” he said, studiously avoiding Stan's eyes. “Marcin, unfortunately, can't be there, but Leo will meet us at The Chanler. I have a couple of bakers arriving shortly to help with the desserts. Which I'll be largely deciding on and preparing.” He continued to avoid looking at Stan with this comment. “The photographer is due here by ten. We'll take photos of prep work here—staged, of course, to look like our practice sessions this weekend, and then she'll photograph everything when we get there. So let's get this kitchen rocking and rolling! We want to put our best
food
forward, don't we, before we head over for the main course?” He laughed gaily at his own plays on words. No one else did. He continued, unfazed.

“The reporter will arrive at The Chanler around two. He or she will likely be more interested in how we've overcome Pierre's death. So let's be ready. We are not going to comment except to say how much he is missed. We'll leave here promptly at one. There will be a cocktail event from three to six. Dinner will be served at six thirty. That's all for now.”

He motioned to Joaquin to follow him. The two began walking out of the kitchen, passing Stan and Gaston. Neither of them had noticed the dog yet. Gaston, however, noticed them. He assessed them, then started to growl, a low, foreboding sound accompanied by bared teeth.

“Whoa. Heel,” Stan said, pulling on his leash. She had no idea if the dog knew “heel,” but so far he'd been well behaved.

Gaston continued to growl.

Sheldon and Joaquin stopped and stared. “Where did you get the puppy?” Joaquin exclaimed. “And why is he angry at us?”

Stan didn't bother to answer, just tightened her hold on the leash.

“Try not to let him bite me, my dear,” Sheldon said, only half-kidding, as he slipped past the dog. “And make sure he's gone when the photographer gets here. That will be a red flag for the Health Department.”

Joaquin followed. Gaston's snarls increased. Maria watched curiously.

Once they were past, Stan exhaled.

“What was that about?” Maria asked.

Stan shrugged.

Tyler, who'd missed the whole thing, came up with Therese. “Hey, Stan. Hey, pup.” He patted Gaston's head. Stan held her breath.

Gaston wagged his tail.

Maria raised her eyebrows.

Stan left Maria fussing with tomatoes in the kitchen and walked out. Sheldon and Joaquin huddled in the corner of the function room. She kept a firm hold on Gaston's leash as she led him back to the lobby, discouraging him from noticing them. “That wasn't good,” she scolded as they walked to the elevator bank. Gaston wagged again. It couldn't be a guy thing, because Pierre had, obviously, been a guy. Gaston hadn't growled at the guys working at the bakery, or at Tyler. He had, however, growled at the bad guys who came in the bakery looking for Pierre. So who was the bad guy here? Sheldon? Joaquin? Or did one of them look like someone Gaston didn't like?

Stan shivered and pressed the button as her cell phone rang. She recognized the distinctive voice before the caller identified herself.

“This is Melanie Diamond.”

Stan frowned. She'd left Melanie her number but hadn't expected her to use it. “What can I do for you?”

“I just got a phone call from Agatha Landsdowne. Pierre's mother. She asked why I'd put out a media statement on behalf of their family when I hadn't spoken to anyone in the family. Apparently his family consists only of his parents. No siblings, no grandparents, one cousin who lives abroad.”

Stan moved into the empty bar area to take the call in private. “But I thought . . .”

“So did I. Apparently his ‘brother' doesn't exist. And wherever Mr. and Mrs. Backwoods are, they don't follow the news outlets that first broadcasted this story. A friend heard a fleeting mention on CNN and called them.”

“Really,” she said, warning bells going off in her head. “That's interesting.”

“That's one way to put it,” Melanie said. “I'll still answer my door with my gun. Just thought you might want to know.” She hung up.

Stan remained seated at the bar, phone in hand. Who had contacted Melanie and posed as Pierre's long-lost brother, claiming to know about the other missing chef and calling for an investigation on Sheldon?

The timing was interesting, because Sheldon's group had been the catalyst of all the news. Sheldon had identified the body. Joaquin had tracked down the records with Pierre's emergency contact information, which prompted the police reach-out. Tyler had worked on all the PR, and he and Therese were the first to know about Vaughn, because she hadn't gotten off the plane. Word hadn't circulated more broadly until later in the day Saturday that she could be missing.

She thought of Frederick, the mysterious motorcycle-riding chef. But even if he'd known Vaughn was missing, what would he have to gain by posing as Pierre's family member? It didn't sound like Sheldon's existence fazed him. He had his own niche, his own following, and his own success, by all accounts. So with Pierre gone, it didn't make sense for him to care. Which meant that whoever had orchestrated the statement had a bone to pick with Sheldon. Could it be Kyle after all, calling the shots from some clandestine location?

But Kyle wasn't here to know about Vaughn. Unless someone had kept him informed.

Had Joaquin been in touch with him, too?

Suddenly Gaston, who'd been sitting quietly at her feet, jumped up at some noise, or smell—Stan wasn't sure what. He caught her off guard. Before Stan could tighten her hold on his leash he jerked it out of her hand and took off, back through the lobby toward the kitchen.

Stan raced down the hall after him, her heart in her throat. What if he bit someone? “Gaston!”

He was fast. She only saw the tail end of his leash, disappearing around the door into their private function room. Someone had left the door ajar. She heard growling from inside. And then a voice.

“Seriously, Jaws, you bite me and we're gonna have a problem,” Joaquin's singsong voice said. “So you better go on your way.”

She froze, hand on the door.
Jaws?
That was the name the dog had been rescued with, according to Greta. Which had been a number of years ago. Way before Joaquin said he'd met Pierre.

She pushed the door open and stuck her head in. Joaquin stood alone in the function room. He and the dog squared off. He looked startled when he saw her. Stan grabbed the leash off the floor. “Gaston! Bad dog. Sorry about that,” she said.

“No trouble,” Joaquin said. “I'm not afraid of dogs. He doesn't appear to like me, though.”

“I'm curious,” Stan said. “What did you call him?”

“Call him?” Joaquin looked blank, then laughed. “Just now? Oh, I called him Jaws. Because he was snarling so much he reminded me of the shark. Ready to take my hand off.”

“Yeah, I'm not sure what's come over him,” she said. “He's been mellow so far.”

Joaquin winked. “I guess I just have that effect,” he said. He walked away, leaving Stan staring after him.