Two Cooks A-Killing Page 19

  “Will you knock it off, bird brain!” Minnie yelled across the room.

  Startled, Angie looked up at her. “I’m sorry, I should have realized…”

  “Hell, it’s not like that. Me and Fred didn’t have that kind of relationship. It’s just that it’s boring as hell to listen to you. Especially when there are more important things to think about—like why would anybody want to hurt Fred, let alone kill him.”

  “We don’t know that anyone’s killed him.”

  “Hogwash. There’s no way he’d fall into a vat without help. We want to find out who. I think I know why.”

  “Why?” Angie asked.

  “Let’s just say I knew he was up to something. Fred was a player. Not much of an actor, that’s all.”

  Angie thought about Minnie’s words. Fred died because he was up to something and “knew things.” If so, she’d have to be careful about what she learned! Tomorrow, Paavo would be here, and she’d feel a lot safer.

  The question struck: why had Minnie involved Paavo in the first place? Angie threw down her oven mitt and faced the little woman. “What’s going on, Minnie? It wasn’t coincidence that caused you to go to Paavo. What did you hope to find out?”

  Minnie pressed her lips tight.

  “You knew Fred was here, didn’t you?” Angie sat beside her. “What did you expect Paavo to do? Did you know Fred was in danger? Is that why you didn’t come here on your own?”

  “I didn’t know anything like that!” She pulled her black handkerchief out of her little black handbag and dabbed her eyes. “You’re upsetting me.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the police? What were you hiding?” Angie yelled, sick of the acting and deception around her.

  “I wasn’t hiding anything, for cryin’ out loud!” Minnie yelled right back. “Fred was.” She glared hard a long moment, then eased her shoulders and shook her head.

  “Fred was…damned old fool! He’d found a way to get work. He wouldn’t tell me how. I suspected it had something to do with the people at Eagle Crest, but I wasn’t sure.”

  Minnie’s eyes darted back and forth between Angie, Connie, and Serefina, who had stopped work to listen. “Connie knew I used to act. When I was in her shop, she told me about your job. Later, when she mentioned your cop boyfriend, it gave me an idea. She said he was more thorough than a lot of cops, tried real hard to be helpful. I thought I could weasel out of him a list of the other people at Eagle Crest, and maybe something about them—if one had a past he didn’t want known for example. Instead, he found Fred. I guess Connie was right: he is thorough.”

  “What do you mean that Fred found a way to get work?” Angie asked.

  “I mean, he got paid. All the time. And he wasn’t in that many actual shows. I thought, if I could find out how he did it, I could get a cut, too. I’m not getting any younger. Old age can be pretty bleak without a good retirement income.”

  “Have you considered,” Angie asked, “that whatever it was that Fred knew that kept him employed is the same thing that led to his death?”

  “Blackmail,” Serefina said, her eyes wide.

  Angie nodded.

  Minnie breathed deeply. “You’re right. It’s what I’d suspected for years. He wouldn’t tell me! He wouldn’t share! All I wanted to do was find out for myself. It’s not so bad of me, is it?” For the first time that day, Minnie’s tears appeared genuine.

  “It’s not good, Minnie,” Connie said honestly.

  Minnie cried harder.

  “Do you want to find out who killed him?” Angie asked. “I’ve got an idea that might work.”

  Puzzled, Minnie nodded. “Poor old Fred. Too damn smart for his own good. What do you want me to do?”

  The four women huddled closer, and Angie explained.

  Digger couldn’t hear Angie’s plan, much as he pressed his ear to the door between the kitchen and breakfast area. It didn’t matter. He knew no one in that house would confess to a crime unless there was no alternative.

  Her plan was doomed before it began.

  The blackmail angle was much more interesting. It made sense—if Minnie Petite was telling the truth.

  Now, he did leave Eagle Crest, even though he’d said his good-byes earlier. It was amazing the information he picked up simply by saying good-bye and then taking his time leaving. That little phrase seemed to force people to talk openly…and if he happened to overhear, was that his problem?

  In his hotel room, Digger opened his laptop and did an Internet search of Minnie Petite. It turned up a couple of films she’d been in decades earlier, but nothing more. He then called his office, asking for a Lexis-Nexis search of both Minnie Petite and Fred Demitasse. He wanted everything they could turn up. Next he called the Screen Actors Guild and requested a bibliography of Petite and Demitasse’s films and television credits. He left the hotel’s fax number and gave the National Star’s credit card for billing.

  Something here didn’t add up.

  Ouzo flowed freely as the cast, Tarleton, Mariah, Camille, Sterling, and Silver scarfed down Greek food. Angie found it interesting that despite Bart Farrell’s talk about a raw food diet and Rhonda’s veganism, both ate her cooking, meat included, and appeared to enjoy it greatly.

  Angie convinced Connie and Minnie to stay in the kitchen while she and Serefina joined the diners. They ate by candlelight.

  When everyone was quite full, Angie cried out. “I just heard Rudolph Goetring’s voice!”

  Connie had been listening in the butler’s pantry for the cue. As soon as it came, she whacked the counter with two cookbooks—thud, thud. Then she did it again. Thud, thud.

  All heads turned toward the pantry. Sterling stood. At that moment, Angie pointed toward the foyer. “Look!”

  In the darkness, Minnie Petite stood in a white chef’s gown and hat. As soon as Angie pointed at her, she ran down the hall.

  “What?” Bart shouted. “I didn’t see anything.”

  Rhonda was frozen to the spot.

  “I saw it, too,” Gwen shouted. “Is this a joke?”

  “It’s no joke,” Silver said. He started toward the door.

  “Stop,” Serefina said. “It’s just Angie. Cooking in that kitchen makes her nervous. She sees Goetring everywhere. Sometimes, when a Christmas tree light burns out, it glows a little brighter for just a moment. That’s probably all you saw. Or perhaps the moon peeking from behind a cloud cover. It’s the full moon tonight, you know. Don’t let Angie scare you.”

  Silver sat again.

  “It would be Goetring’s ghost,” Serefina explained, “only if someone killed him and he returned to accuse his murderer.”

  “Oh, ho, ho!” Sterling laughed. “A fine joke, Serefina. Look at them, they’re all white as sheets now.” He turned to Angie. “Why didn’t you tell us you were troubled? You don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.”

  “I love cooking,” Angie said. “Mamma’s right. I’m sorry. It couldn’t have been a ghost…could it?”

  “Wait,” Tarleton said. “We all heard the footsteps. What was that?”

  “Maybe Junior getting his dinner,” Angie said.

  “I think anyone who scares us like that should just go home,” Rhonda shrieked. “I didn’t come here for this!”

  Mariah sat like a statue. “I saw something,” she whispered, “and it wasn’t a light. It was Fred Demitasse.”

  As Angie looked from one to the other, she saw that they all had heard about Fred being Goetring.

  “The hell it was!” Kyle threw his napkin on the table and strode down the hall, Angie and the others following in a cluster behind him.

  He went through the family room, breakfast room, and into the kitchen.

  “Who are you?” he roared.

  Angie tried to push her way ahead of the others.

  “Adrian! I mean, Mr. O’Rourke!” Connie squealed. “It’s such an honor to meet you!”

  “Who are you?”

  “I…I’m Angie’s friend. I go
t here a short while ago, and saw everyone was eating, so I came in here. I didn’t want to disturb Angie’s dinner.” She had a half eaten plate of food in front of her. “I helped myself. I hope you don’t mind.” Her gaze turned moony and she stood, stepping near him. “I simply must tell you how much I loved the scene when you told Natalie that you would love her forever, even though she ditched you and married Cliff. It still brings tears to my eyes whenever I think about it. I taped it and watched it over and over. Someday, I hope to find a man who loves me like that.”

  Kyle backpedaled out of the kitchen. “Don’t let me disturb your dinner. I’m sure Angie will be happy to see you.”

  Connie clutched her hands together, lifting them to her breast. “The way you kissed her good-bye. Only your lips touched hers. It was the sexiest, most sensual kiss I’ve ever seen in my whole life! God, I don’t see how she didn’t throw her arms around you! Hold you tight and kiss you back until you were dizzy from it! It was so, like…” She sighed. “How could any woman resist you?”

  “Excuse me.” He dashed out of the kitchen, eyes wild, and fled. Gwen and the others went after him. The show was over.

  Smiling from ear to ear, Angie entered the kitchen. “Where’s Minnie?”

  “Hiding under the sink. We cleared a space just in case something like this happened.”

  Minnie crawled out. Connie put her hand on Minnie’s shoulder. “We were great, weren’t we? Spooked them good!”

  “Wonderful,” Angie said. “You really got to Kyle, too. It was all I could do not to laugh.”

  Connie’s smile vanished. “Laugh? Why? I was dead serious about him!”

  Chapter 30

  That evening was not the time to spring Minnie and Connie on the cast or anyone else. Angie needed to sneak them out of the house first chance she got and let everyone stew about the “vision” they’d seen—or feared seeing.

  All three were about to begin with the cleanup when there was a knock on the kitchen door.

  Since they’d refilled the area under the sink with cleaning supplies, the only place Angie could think of to hide them was the wine cellar. She pointed to the door.

  Minnie headed for it. Angie motioned for Connie to join her. If Minnie realized she was hiding where Fred had been killed, she might scream or otherwise freak out. Hopefully, Connie could keep her calm.

  Angie called, “Come in.”

  Gwen Hagen entered and offered to help with the cleanup.

  “I didn’t think stars like you even realized that someone had to clean pots, pans, and dishes,” Angie said, amazed. Gwen filled the dishwasher while Angie scrubbed pots and pans in the sink.

  Gwen smiled. “You wouldn’t believe the kinds of things I did before I had money. Washing dishes is nothing. My only regret is that I never had a big family to do them with. I gather, talking to your mother, that you have sisters and brothers-in-law, and nieces and nephews. All the things that money can’t buy. You’re lucky, you know.”

  “Does that mean I should be used to washing up after a big dinner?” Angie said with a laugh.

  “Exactly. To me, it sounds like fun. Where’s your friend, by the way? She wasn’t the one out here scaring everyone…or was she?”

  Angie swallowed. “She…she’s in the courtyard. Enjoying the fresh air, I think. She couldn’t scare a soul.”

  Gwen’s face turned hard, almost cruel. “She’s not a midget, is she? Was she wearing Fred’s body suit with stilts?”

  “No,” Angie replied. “She wasn’t the ghost I saw. Or thought I saw, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Gwen continued with the cleanup, not speaking for a while.

  Eventually, the two began to talk amicably again, Angie about her family and her fiancé, and Gwen about growing up dirt poor and never having a Christmas until she was old enough to make one for herself.

  Angie commented on how surprised she was that so many traditional Christmas foods and plants and decorations were fake in the house. Fortunately, she hadn’t gone too far when Gwen told her she decorated her home in much the same way. It was much easier on the waistline when the mince pies, iced sugar cookies, fruitcake, and sugar plums were made out of plastic or sculpted foam; easier on the carpet when trees didn’t need to sit in stands filled with water and didn’t drop needles all over the place. Her maid sprayed the house with pine aerosol so that it smelled Christmasy…or like a bathroom. Take your pick.

  They were almost finished when Rhonda walked into the kitchen. “Oh! I didn’t realize you were here.” She swayed slightly as she took in what they were doing. “I should have helped.”

  “It’s all right,” Angie said.

  “I just wanted some ice for my water. There’s none left at the bar. I’m going up to bed.”

  “Already?” Gwen asked. “I was thinking of going into St. Helena tonight. To see something besides these four walls. Want to go?”

  “No. I’m tired.” She filled up a bowl with ice, and then grabbed a tall glass. “Goodnight.”

  Angie frowned. Something was very wrong with that woman. “Goodnight.”

  They soon finished the dishes and went out to the family room. Kyle, who’d been talking with Tarleton, jumped to his feet with a smile at Gwen. Angie thought it was more than a “friends” type smile.

  The three chatted a while and then Kyle asked, “Are you ready? Emery’s going with us.”

  “Great,” Gwen said. “Angie, want to come along?”

  It was tempting, but she had to do something about Connie and Minnie. “I don’t think so. All that cooking was exhausting.”

  “I can imagine,” Gwen said. “Let’s go, everyone.”

  As soon as they were out of sight, Angie dashed into the kitchen and opened the door to the wine cellar.

  “You can come out now.”

  Silence.

  Oh, God! “Connie? Minnie? The coast is clear.”

  More silence.

  She didn’t want to go all the way down the stairs to that cold, dank cellar again. She really, really didn’t want to do that.

  She crept down a few steps, but couldn’t see much of the cellar. She went down a few more. “Connie? Don’t play games. This isn’t funny.”

  Taking a deep, courage-enhancing breath, she marched to the bottom without letting herself stop.

  The cellar was empty.

  A door led out to the side of the house. It had been unlocked.

  Outside, she took a few steps toward the front of the house. Connie’s car was still in the parking area.

  She made an about-face to the courtyard.

  “Over here!” Connie called. She and Minnie stood a few feet up the hillside, enough so Minnie could see over the adobe wall and into the courtyard and the house. Angie joined them. “How could you have sent us down to that cellar?” Connie cried. “Are you crazy?”

  “I’m sorry,” Angie cried. “Minnie, I hope it didn’t upset you too much.”

  “Me? I didn’t give a damn. Connie here looked ready to wet her pants. I said ‘Boo’ and she scaled the walls. Had to get her out of there.”

  “Anyway,” Connie said, not hiding her irritation well, “from the hill, we could see into some bedrooms. The one with the lights on is Rhonda’s.”

  Connie pointed to a window just below and to the left of Angie’s. In front of it was an almond tree.

  “I wonder what she’s up to,” Angie murmured. “It’s hard to see with that tree in the way.” An idea came to her. “Connie, let’s you and me go down to the courtyard. Minnie, wait right here.”

  At the base of the almond tree Connie said, “You aren’t thinking what I think you are, are you?”

  “Of course I am.” She put her hands on the trunk. “Give me a boost.”

  “You are crazy!” Connie declared.

  “Rhonda is hiding something and I want to know what it is.”

  “You can’t spy on her!”

  “It’s not spying. It’s investigating. What if she’s up to somethi
ng terrible? What if she’s a homicidal maniac? Or suicidal? What if she’s about to kill herself and I’m the only one who can save her? I need to see what she’s up to.” Angie kicked off her sandals with four-inch heels and gestured impatiently for Connie to come closer.

  “I give up.” Connie laced her fingers together. She’d been through this before.

  Angie used her hands as a step and Connie lifted as Angie jumped, reaching for the Y in the tree trunk. She landed on her stomach and crawled to a sitting position. “I didn’t realize how high this was. These branches are round, and they’re slippery!”

  “You’ve got to go up a couple more limbs,” Connie urged. “You can’t see anything from there.”

  Carefully, Angie got to her feet, clutching the trunk. Slowly, she climbed a few boughs higher. The words to “Rock-a-Bye Baby” ran through her head. What a nasty little song!

  Clutching a tree limb, she looked right into Rhonda’s bedroom window.

  Rhonda stepped into view and behind her, Bart Farrell. Angie gasped and nearly lost her balance.

  Bart wrapped his arms around Rhonda. They kissed passionately. Angie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

  Rhonda criticized Bart constantly and publicly, but hers was not the face of a woman hating what was going on. Bart apparently knew what he was doing with all the “darling” this and “darling” that, and being so solicitous. He’d acted like a man in love—possibly one who’d been in love for a long time.

  “Get up here!” Angie whispered down to Connie. “You’ve got to see this.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” Connie whispered back.

  “You won’t believe it!”

  “I won’t?” That got Connie moving. She reached for the Y of the tree and tried to lift herself onto it. She couldn’t. Maybe she should spend some time at a gym. Angie climbed back down and grabbed her hand, and while Connie’s feet scrambled against the trunk, Angie pulled.

  “Oh, my God!” Connie cried, finding herself clinging to a thick branch. “I can break my neck from here.”

  “You aren’t that high,” Angie said. “And I’ll hold onto you.”