Thyme for Love (Cooking Up Trouble Book 1) Read online

  His polite smile gave me no clue. Still, it was a far cry from the angry glare I received one summer night 20 years earlier when a pair of ten-year-olds spied on him and his college sweetie making out in the boathouse. Today, his ruddy appearance gave only a hint of the angry redheaded frat boy who had marched us to my aunt’s house.

  Unable to wrap my head around the idea of Kendall being Rescaté’s chief honcho, I set the coffees on Marc’s desk and stuck out my hand. “Mr. Montclaire, very nice to meet you.”

  He pressed my palm in a soft grip. “April Love. Why does your name sound so familiar?”

  I gave him my practiced eye-roll. “No doubt the song—”

  “Probably because her aunt is Kitty McPiper,” Marc said from behind me.

  Exactly the information I wanted to avoid. I suppressed my irritation and offered Kendall a respectful smile. “You may not remember me, but I recall what an accomplished sailor you were. You must have won the annual regatta four years running.”

  His face brightened. “It was only three, but who’s counting. Thanks for the coffee.” He lifted one of the mugs and sipped. “Of course, I remember the little curly-headed girl from next door.”

  Marc picked up the other mocha and shot me an intense look. He wanted me gone. As if I wanted to stay there? Not hardly.

  He took a sip. “Thanks for the coffee. I’ll give you a call later. We need to finalize the menus.”

  I nodded and headed for the door.

  “Such a tragic thing, Ramón’s death.”

  At Kendall’s comment, I turned. “And so unexpected. Enjoy your refreshments.”

  Kendall raised his mug in a salute.

  I turned to Marc. “You, too.”

  “Thanks, April.” he said, through lips that barely moved.

  I all but ran for the door. What a time for my runaway mouth to go into action. Would my comment have Kendall thinking that Marc was consorting with the hired help? In a way he was, but we did have a history.

  I breezed past Taryn and didn’t slow my pace until I reached the kitchen door.

  The scent of banana muffins filled the kitchen and set my mouth to watering. They’d still be warm by the time I took the break cart around. That is, if I still had a job. It had been over an hour since I’d left Marc’s office. The phone was certain to ring at any moment.

  I upped the volume on the music I’d had playing since I’d returned from my closer-than-comfortable encounter with Kendall Montclaire. Maybe I should change to a tune with a stronger beat than Mozart to drown out the phone’s ring. Oh well, my future was carved in stone no matter what. I gathered my dirty dishes and carried them to the sink. No way would I leave them for the next chef.

  A knock came from behind me, and my breath caught. Had Marc come to deliver the bad news in person? I turned.

  Kendall stood just inside the door.

  I forced a smile. “Mr. Montclaire. Did you come for more coffee?”

  “The mocha you made was superb. I didn’t make my usual stop at Java Junction this morning and so it was doubly appreciated.” He moved toward the island, a slight smile on his lips, and brushed a crumb off a stool before he sat. “You gave me your own mocha, didn’t you?”

  “That’s okay. I made another.” I glanced at the espresso maker. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a refill?”

  He rested both elbows on the counter. “One a day is my limit. Sounds like you have an appreciation for Mozart.”

  “He’s one of my favorites.”

  “Interesting.” His face grew serious. “I couldn’t help but hear your comment to Marc before you knew I was in his office. I don’t know what your relationship is with him away from here, and I don’t care. But, as I told him a few minutes ago, and I’m telling you now, we can’t have romantic relationships going on between coworkers. I know you’re an outside contractor, but the other staff doesn’t realize that. Can I count on you?”

  What he asked wasn’t any different than any other place I’d worked, so why did I feel like a little kid being caught cheating on a test? My breathing quickened. Kendall Montclaire had been a spoiled rich kid who liked to bully, but now he was the boss, which gave him the right to intimidate. I took the stool next to him. “There’s nothing going on. Just some friendly banter between two college friends. No romance.”

  A timer buzzed from the stove. I grabbed a potholder. “If you want to wait, you can have a warm muffin.”

  “Sounds tempting, but I need to go. Next time we can chat about the time a couple little girls spied on me in the boathouse.” He chortled as he headed for the door. “Thought I forgot, didn’t you? See you later.”

  I closed my gaping mouth. At least he was laughing, and I still had a job.

  Marc arrived in the kitchen five minutes later, bringing along a stern expression. He thudded the empty mugs onto the counter.

  “Guess you feel like you were taken to the principal’s office same as me, huh?” I folded my arms.

  He leaned against the granite, stiff as a pole. “That’s a good way to describe it. I assured him you were joking. Hope you did the same.”

  I nodded. “It bothered me that he called us out, but I guess it troubled you more. I’m sorry I said what I did.”

  “I’m not. But I am upset over something else Kendall told me.”

  My eyes widened. “Oh?”

  “Seems you’re not the only one Rosa confided her suspicions to. A rumor has been circulating that he was killed.”

  My mouth dropped open. “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Me either, but someone approached Kendall the moment he arrived and asked if the police had been called. He wants me to put an end to it.”

  “How are you going to do that? Call a staff meeting?”

  “Yes. But before I do, he wants me have a look around Ramón’s apartment. Make sure there’s nothing to indicate foul play, which of course there isn’t. If I can say the apartment has been scrutinized, it will support the truth.” He bit his lower lip and frowned. “Going up there isn’t on my list of favorite things to do right now. The last time I was there, I found his body.”

  “I can go with you.”

  He looked up. “That’ll look real good after our warning.”

  “We’ll be going as boss and employee. Another pair of eyes.”

  “Guess that would work, but let’s discuss menus before we go up.” He sniffed. “Banana bread?”

  “Muffins, and I just brewed up fresh coffee.”

  “It’ll make up for what we missed earlier.” He took a seat at the island.

  Gathering up honey-butter and a basket of muffins, I set the goodies on the counter, then poured coffee. I slid onto the stool next to him.

  He liked my idea for a make-your-own sandwich buffet for the board meeting. At first he wrinkled his nose at my suggestion of Chicken George for the memorial lunch. Then I explained it was a rich man’s Chicken a la King that would please most everyone and he relaxed. Green beans almandine, fruit salad, and cherry-upside-down cake would round out the spread.

  With the menus settled, he stood and stretched. “Let’s get this crazy investigation over with.”

  When we stepped into the hall, Marc took a right while I took a left. We collided and I quick-stepped backwards.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going?” Our words were the same, mine a half second behind his.

  We burst out laughing.

  “Why are you going that way? The stairs are in reception.” I pointed toward the main staircase.

  “Ven conmigo, señorita, y voy a mostrarle el camino.”

  As it rolled off his tongue, Marc’s Spanish loosened the rest of the starch from the air even if I didn’t understand but a couple words about showing the way.

  He stopped in front of a closed door I thought was a closet and pulled out a key. “I figure if we used this, fewer would see us going upstairs together.”

  The tiny elevator looked no larger than a side-by-side fridge. Were we s
upposed to fit in there? Did Marc think this was better than being seen taking the stairs together?

  He pulled back the accordion-like gate and gestured for me to enter first. I stepped in and pressed my back against the far wall. He eased in and shut the gate. “You got enough room back there?”

  I wanted to say we had room to spare, but since one short step forward would send me into his broad back, I’d be fibbing. Already, the scent of his aftershave was sending my heart into overdrive. I so didn’t want those stomach flutters again. Not when we were told to behave, and certainly not when we were about to investigate the room where Mr. Galvez met his untimely end.

  “I’m okay.” I hoped my voice sounded nonchalant.

  He pressed the green button, and the elevator door slid closed. The car jerked upward one shaky movement at a time. At the rate we were going it’d be Christmas when we got to the second floor.

  The car shuddered and stopped, and so did the overhead fan. We couldn’t be at the second floor already.

  Marc jabbed his finger at the button. “This happens once in a while. There’s a little trick. If I could only remember it.” He fiddled with a switch.

  The air tightened, and a bead of perspiration trickled down my back. Why did it feel like the claustrophobic box had no oxygen? Marc banged his palm on the up button, then the down.

  “Marc, I hope you have a Plan B.”

  He wiggled around to face me, his peppermint breath tickling my nose. “It always starts again when the reset switch is toggled. No plan B or C.” He rested his hands on my shoulders. Not out of affection. He needed to put them somewhere besides in the air.

  I let out a nervous giggle. “It’s kinda warm in here.”

  Marc tipped my chin up with his index finger. “April, you’re sweating.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed my forehead. I had nowhere to look but into his eyes and once there, I couldn’t pull my gaze away. Good thing I didn’t want to. His eyes went to my mouth and he brought his face toward mine. I lifted my chin in anticipation. So much for Kendall.

  The tiny elevator started to spin. Then everything went black.

  Chapter 10

  My eyes popped open. Inches away from my face, Marc’s frantic stare greeted me. “April, thank goodness. You must have fainted. I was about to do something drastic if you didn’t wake up.”

  My last moment before I went into la-la land materialized. Had he kissed me and that sent me into a swoon? Tempted to make up for what I may have missed, I asked, “Drastic? Like what?” I wanted to stand but in such tight quarters I couldn’t move. Not with his left arm circling my back and my legs kind of hanging there.

  He pressed his lips together and colored. “Nothing. Let’s see if you can stand. I want to try that switch again. We need to get you some water.” He shifted a few inches and I was on my feet.

  “How long was I out?”

  “A minute or two.” He hit the switch.

  The car shuddered and began to descend. “I want you to go to Kitty’s and lay down.”

  Suddenly wide-awake, I stood straight. “No way. I’m fine. I just fainted from the heat. That’s all.”

  He cast me a skeptical look. “I’m sure there’s nothing up there. I can handle it alone.” The elevator settled into a stop. The gate clattered as Marc flung it back.

  I trailed behind him into the first-floor hall and shrugged off his hand when he tried to grip my elbow. “Are you sure? That’s not how you felt earlier.”

  After a stop in the kitchen for a couple bottled waters, we took the stairs and Marc led me to Ramon’s door. He unlocked it and pushed it open. The distinct scent of pine cleaner hit my nose.

  Marc waved his hand. “Whew. Housekeeping must have been here.”

  I followed him inside. He went to the windows facing the lake and yanked on a drapery cord. Bright sunlight spilled in. Except for no stray socks or underwear lying around, the place reminded me of my brother’s bachelor apartment—couch, giant-screen HD TV, and a couple of media-room style chairs.

  Marc stood by the wall-mounted the television, hands stuck in his pockets, coins jingling. “This used to be the master suite. The original bathroom and dressing area were divided into a kitchen, bath, and walk-in closet when it was repurposed for Rescaté.”

  Spotting a small dining alcove and kitchenette divided by a breakfast counter, I headed there. Ramón had given me the impression he enjoyed cooking, but he must have done all his playing downstairs. A dwarf would have trouble in this tiny space. I opened and shut the three cabinets. The man had more boxes and bags of chips, cookies, and chocolate bars than a Costco warehouse.

  “Anything here?” Marc came up behind me.

  “Only a ton of junk food. Let’s look at the bedroom where you found him.”

  On our way, we peeked into a small room next to the coat closet that appeared to be a home office. Not even a stray paper, let alone a leftover snack.

  Marc stepped over to the laptop computer. “I want to make sure there isn’t any confidential Rescaté business on this thing. The bedroom is just past the bathroom. Go ahead and have a look. Then we can get out of here.”

  On the way, I snuck a peek into the bathroom. I half expected to find miniature samples of shampoo and lotion on the vanity counter of the spa-like room, but all I found was a container of liquid hand soap. I moved on.

  A strange aura washed over me as I entered the dark bedroom where Ramón had spent his final moments. Had he gasped for air? Tried to call for help? Cried out to God? I pushed down the urge to tell Marc the place was clean without looking. Five more minutes and we’ll be done. I flicked the wall switch, using a tissue. The light didn’t work. I tried again. Nothing.

  “What’s for breakfast?”

  I faced the shadowy corner that the odd-sounding voice seemed to have come from, and held my breath while my heart beat a tattoo against my chest. The only sound reaching my ears.

  “What’s for breakfast?”

  That’s it. I’m out of here. I spun toward the door and slammed into a man’s chest.

  A scream filled the air—my scream.

  Hands grabbed my arms.

  Twisting one way, then the other, I wrenched out of his grasp. “Let me go!”

  “April, it’s me.”

  I nearly knocked Marc over as I collapsed against him. “Someone’s in the corner.”

  “It’s only Pedro.”

  “Pedro?”

  “I’m surprised you’d let a parrot scare you half to death.” His chuckle grated against my ears. He crossed the room and flicked on the bedside lamp.

  A green, blue and yellow parrot peered at me from inside an ornate cage half the size of my tiny bathroom in Atlanta. As I neared the jewel-toned bird, he tilted his colorful head and regarded me with his beady eyes.

  “Karl was supposed to get him out of here Friday afternoon.” Marc wrested the cage off its stand as the parrot swung back and forth on his little trapeze and squawked out a loud complaint.

  “He doesn’t sound very happy.”

  Marc hurried past me with the startled creature. “He’s not the only one. I’ll be right back.”

  The door to the hall slammed, and I scanned the bedroom suite. With the large king bed and heavy polished wood furniture, the place looked like a model showroom. Then something caught my eye.

  Chapter 11

  “Sorry for leaving you alone. I left Pedro with Karl and told him to check the kitchen for some crackers.” Marc stepped in the bedroom and picked up the cage stand. He started for the door. “It’s almost ten, and there’s nothing here. Are you ready?”

  “Look at what I found.” I pointed at the dresser, not knowing if I should be relieved that I found something ominous or dread what may lay ahead.

  He set his load on the floor and bent to peer at the Gingko Biloba bottle. “Ramón’s smart pills. He was always boasting how two a day helped him think. Guess they won’t help him now.”

  “While you were gon
e I remembered that after colliding with the orange-capped person the other morning, something dropped out of his backpack when he got to the parking lot.” I stepped closer to the dresser. “A bottle that looked like that one. It was important enough that he stopped running and chased it down.”

  Marc expelled a loud breath. “So?”

  “It’s probably nothing, but I feel in my gut we should hang onto the pills just in case.”

  He stared at me. “We?”

  I scowled. “Marc, we can’t ignore them. Pretend they weren’t here. What if it’s discovered Ramón was poisoned and we ignored evidence that was later tossed out? I thought you’d want to do the right thing. Or have you changed?” I kept my gaze on him.

  He shrugged. “I’m still the same guy. Do what you feel is right.”

  I went to grab the bottle and he laughed. “Boy, Sherlock, you’d never make it as a detective. Even I know not to touch evidence because of fingerprints.”

  My face heated and I turned toward the door. “Just testing you. I’ll find something in Ramon’s kitchen to use.”

  A few minutes later, we entered the Rescaté kitchen and he shut the door. “What will you do with the pills?”

  I placed my hand over the bulge created in my apron pocket by the pills, now safely protected in a plastic bag. “They’re going into hiding.”

  He placed a hand on each of my shoulders and regarded me with those almost black eyes. “Then you’re not going to tell Kendall about them?”

  I shrugged. “Not unless there’s a reason. Right now I have none.”

  “Galvez took those pills every single day. That’s why they were sitting there. That runner could have had vitamins in his backpack.”

  “Exactly why the pills are going into hiding. And when these rumors go away, so will the pills.”