Recipe for Murder (4 page)

“I hope he's all right,” Nancy said sincerely. “Well, I'd better go see how Ned's doing,” Nancy murmured.

As quickly as she could, she returned to Ned's side. He was diligently stirring milk into his roux, but lumps were starting to form anyway.

“Not enough fat to coat the starch molecules in the flour,” Jacques said, coming up behind them.

Ned glanced sideways at Jacques. He looked about ready to explode.

Unaware, Jacques turned to address the whole class. “Many of you are having problems with proportions. I would like you to master this roux now,” Bonet said, striding to the center of the
room, “because I want everyone to make a Béarnaise sauce after lunch. The recipes are here. You can study them during your break.” He held up a sheaf of papers. Then he turned and looked at Nancy, smiling at her.

While the students picked up their recipes, Ned growled in Nancy's ear, “I'm liking that guy less and less.”

“Shhh,” Nancy said. “I might need some information out of him.”

“He's interested in a whole lot more than information from you.”

Nancy looked up at him, smiling. “Well, I'm spoken for. But can
you
hold it together? I don't want to blow this.”

“Just what are you hoping to learn?”

“Jacques told me he's a close friend of Claude DuPres's. Maybe he can give some clue as to what's going on here.”

“Whatever that is,” Ned said.

“Whatever that is,” Nancy repeated.

• • •

The afternoon class was embarrassing for Nancy. Over and over Jacques praised her profusely. She could practically feel the other students' resentment. Even Ned was having a hard time not losing his cool.

When class was over, Nancy was glad to escape to the hallway. “Whew!” she exclaimed to herself, stopping to wait for Ned.

But it was Jacques who caught up with her first. He clasped both her hands in his.

“Would you be my guest for dinner tonight?” he asked. “There's an authentic French restaurant on the other side of the city. Even I can't fault the food.”

“I—I—uh—” Nancy cleared her throat. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Bonet, but—”

“Jacques. Please call me Jacques.”

“All right—Jacques. But I already have plans with my friends for this evening.”

Ned was right behind them now. He snapped his fingers in mock regret. “Too bad. Maybe another time.”

“Hey, you guys!” came a voice from down the hall. It was Bess, running toward them and waving frantically.

“Nancy, guess what?” Bess asked breathlessly.

“What?”

“I made the best éclair in class. You wouldn't believe it. It was just perfect. . . .” Her voice trailed off. She's noticed Jacques, Nancy thought, smiling to herself.

“Jacques, this is my friend, Bess Marvin,” Nancy said. “Bess, Jacques Bonet.”

“Bonjour,”
said Jacques—and Nancy could practically see Bess melt.

“Chef Bonet is our instructor,” Nancy said.

“You're a chef?” Bess's eyes widened.

“Yes, I am. I just asked Nancy to join me for
dinner, but she told me she's already going out with her friends. Would that be you?”

“Yes. But you could come with us!” Bess said eagerly. “Right?” She turned to Nancy for confirmation.

“Uh, sure,” Nancy said. She was aware of Ned's mounting tension, but she couldn't do anything about it. Bess had pretty much forced Nancy into inviting Jacques along. “Why don't you join us, Jacques? Are you staying at the hotel too?”

He nodded. “I will meet you in the lobby. Say, around six?”

Bess grabbed Nancy's arm as soon as Jacques was out of earshot. “Who is that guy, really? He's too gorgeous to be a chef!”

“Who said chefs can't be gorgeous?” Nancy countered, shooting Ned a glance.

“I can't wait for dinner!” Bess responded with feeling.

Nancy linked her arm through Ned's, but all the way to the hotel, he didn't utter one word.

After Bess headed straight up to her room to change, Nancy said to Ned, “Wait a sec. I want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Jacques Bonet! You don't seriously think I'm interested in him, do you?”

“No,” Ned admitted. “But he's definitely interested in you.”

Nancy couldn't deny that. “Well, it bothers me
too,” she said. “I can't afford to antagonize him at this stage, but I'd just as soon he didn't use me as an example in class. I think I'm losing friends.”

To her relief, Ned hugged her. “You haven't lost this one yet. But one more perfect sauce and—” He drew his finger across his neck.

Nancy laughed, gave him a quick kiss, then hurried upstairs. In her room she changed into a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a gauzy peach-colored overshirt.

When they all met once again in the lobby, Jacques was already there. George whistled softly under her breath. “That's your instructor?” she asked incredulously.

Nancy could understand George's amazement. Jacques had been handsome enough in his white chef's uniform. Now, in a pair of washed-out black jeans and a black shirt, Jacques Bonet looked even more handsome—and a little dangerous. Not like a chef at all.

“So where are we going to eat?” Bess asked, once Nancy had introduced Jacques to George.

“I'm dying for a burger and fries,” George answered. Without much discussion they decided to hit the nearest fast-food burger place.

Jacques didn't say anything until they had actually walked inside. He searched the menu carefully and waited until the others had ordered. Then he bought a salad for himself.

“You don't like hamburgers?” Ned asked in disbelief.

Jacques grimaced. “Would you expect a chef to eat fast food?” he asked.

Bess was staring at Jacques, starry-eyed. “Next time we'll pick a place you'll like better,” she said. “What made you decide to become a chef?”

“It was really Claude's influence. I had originally wanted a more exciting career for myself.”

“Such as?” Nancy asked.

His smile was reflective. “I don't know. Something with a little more danger. Such as being a detective.” He broke off and stared straight into Nancy's eyes.

Her face growing hot, Nancy cleared her throat and changed the subject. “Did you find out any more about Chef DuPres's condition?” she asked.

“He had a mild heart attack, but he's doing fine. In fact, he's due to be released from the hospital in a day or two.”

Nancy could hardly believe it. Was that all that had been the matter?

“You seem surprised,” Jacques remarked.

“Oh, no. I'm glad. It's just that—I don't know. I was just worried, I guess,” Nancy stammered.

“About what?”

“About Chef DuPres, of course! Anyone want dessert?”

• • •

Back in the lobby, Nancy said, “Well, thanks for joining us, Jacques.” She thrust out her hand to shake his.

Instead of shaking it, Jacques brought it to his lips, kissing it softly on the palm.

“The pleasure was all mine,” he said huskily.

There was a sudden sound behind him. Nancy looked up. Oh, no! she thought.

Ned's fist was aimed, ready to smash into Jacques's handsome face!

J
ACQUES MOVED OUT
of the way so quickly that Ned never had a chance to hit him.

Ned's fingers relaxed. “You move pretty fast,” he observed.

“I've met jealous boyfriends before,” Jacques said, panting slightly. His tone was light, but underneath was a hard edge.

“Then you might try keeping your hands to yourself,” Ned snarled.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Nancy said. “Come on, guys, let's call it a night. This is really getting out of hand.”

After a moment Jacques inclined his head. “See you tomorrow,” he said, then he strode off down the hall.

The four friends stared after him for a second. Then Ned turned to Nancy. “Am I crazy? Or do you understand how I feel?”

“I
understand how you feel,” George said. “That guy's so smooth he glides.”

Bess's mouth dropped open. “What do you mean? I think he's cute.”

Everyone groaned. Nancy linked her arm through Ned's. “He does come on a little strong,” she said softly. “But please hang in there, okay? Don't antagonize him. I know this is all really awkward, but we might need a friend later.”

“That guy is nobody's friend,” Ned muttered. “You're the boss, Nan. But so help me, if he steps out of line . . .” He left the threat unfinished.

“You'll get first crack at him,” Nancy assured him. She just hoped it would never come to that.

Inside her room Nancy brushed her teeth and changed into her nightshirt. She walked out of the bathroom to find a pajama-clad George sitting cross-legged on her bed.

“Do you really think this Jacques can help you figure out what's going on here?” George asked skeptically.

“Yes, I do. He's right in the center of it all.”

“The center of what?”

“I don't know!” Nancy stared at her reflection in the mirror over the bureau. “I just wish I did.”

Just then Bess padded into the room. “That Jacques is gorgeous! And he's so—gallant!”

“Forget Jacques for a minute,” Nancy said. “Think about that oven that caught fire. Trent Richards acted really strange about that.” She turned to Bess. “Did Paul Slesak do or say anything odd or suspicious today?”

Bess shook her head. “My class was just a class. Did I tell you I made the best—”

“Twice,” George said.

It was getting late, and Nancy decided it was time to forget about the mystery. “Let's hit the hay,” she suggested. “Tomorrow's another day.”

Bess and George slipped through the connecting door to their room, and Nancy crawled into bed. She had thought she might have trouble getting to sleep again, but that night she fell asleep instantly.

• • •

She awoke early the next morning, had a quick shower, then dressed in a pair of tan jeans and a white T-shirt. “Rise and shine,” she called to her friends through the connecting door.

George's answer was a pillow hurled against the wall beside Nancy. Bess didn't move. “I'll meet you both later,” Nancy said, and ducked before George could hurl another missile.

Downstairs, Nancy checked her watch. She
had a lot of time until class started. She strolled over to the hotel coffee shop and sat down at a small table in the corner. Might as well let Ned get his beauty sleep, she thought with a wry smile.

She'd just ordered a bowl of fresh fruit when a familiar voice with a French accent said, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Nancy glanced up into the gray eyes of Jacques Bonet. “Oh, hi,” she said.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“Uh, no. Sure. Go ahead.”

Jacques sat down opposite her. “Black coffee,” he told the waitress. Then he just stared at Nancy. She could hardly swallow under such close scrutiny.

“It's only six-thirty, but you look wide-awake,” she said, trying to sound offhand.

“I've been up since five, working out.”

“Five? How can you stand it?”

“Habit, I guess. I've got to keep in shape somehow.”

“Well, I'd never be able to—Oh, there's Ned!” He was standing at the entrance to the coffee shop. Nancy called to him and beckoned him over.

Ned walked slowly to their table, but his voice was friendly as he asked, “Well, what have you got in store for us today, Chef Bonet?”

“I thought we would try a soufflé.”

“Soufflé, huh?” Ned eyed Jacques over the top of his menu.

“Soufflés are difficult for amateurs,” Jacques said. “But once you learn the basics, it's a snap.”

“Well, I hope you're right,” Nancy said.

While Ned ordered a hearty breakfast, Jacques excused himself. He sounded a little disgruntled when he left. Was he angry that Ned was there?

When they got to class Jacques put them right to work making soufflés. “You need to whip the egg whites hard and fast,” Jacques said to the room at large. “The more air you whip into them, the fluffier the soufflé.” He casually dropped a hand on Nancy's shoulder. “How is it going?”

Ned, who was taking a turn with the wire whip, was beating the whites so fast and furiously Nancy was afraid they might take flight. “Uh—fine,” she said, sliding away from Jacques.

When the handsome instructor finally moved on to the next students, Ned relaxed a little. “Don't say it,” he warned. “That guy is specifically trying to get to me.”

“Then don't let him.”

“Oh, yeah? Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to watch.”

“Well, maybe trying to make friends with him wasn't such a hot idea,” Nancy admitted. “I haven't learned anything useful yet, and he's really bugging you.”