Home of the Braised (4 page)

Gav squared his jaw. “Evan asked me to come by.”

“Why?”

“He wouldn’t say. You know how he is. He just said it was important.”

Taglia sent a perplexed glance my direction. “Who are you?”

“My name is Olivia Paras—”

“The chef?” He sent a disconcerted look at Gav. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

Taglia’s reaction stopped me cold.

“What isn’t true?” I asked, my head twisting back and forth between the two men. “What’s wrong?”

Taglia ignored me. “I heard rumors but didn’t believe them. You’re the man. You’ve always been the man. How can you do this to us?”

Gav’s voice was a warning. “Taglia . . .”

“Do what?” I turned to Gav. “What’s he talking about?”

Taglia gave me a withering stare. “I’m sure you’re a lovely person, but Agent Gavin is one of the most respected individuals in our ranks. It does him no good to be seen carousing with someone of your reputation. No offense.”

“Carousing?” I repeated. “My reputation? Gav, is this true? Am I causing you more trouble than I realize?”

“Taglia doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He would be best served by keeping quiet,” Gav said through clenched teeth. “Is that understood?”

Taglia didn’t look pleased but he answered, “Yes, sir.”

Gav worked his jaw and addressed the other agent again. “You want to tell me what’s going on here?”

Taglia pulled his lips in. Shook his head. “Classified.”

“That’s my friend who’s dead in there. Your friend, too, Taglia. I understand if you can’t say much in front of Ollie. I get that. But I plan to find out what’s going on here and I need to know who to talk to. You owe me that.”

Taglia jutted his chin toward the front of the building where the others still remained. “We’re the only ones on this detail. That’s it. Super-tight controls. Nobody knows what’s going on this time.” He wagged sparse eyebrows. “And I mean nobody. Bad news for you that you stumbled on this by accident.”

“Bad news, why?” I asked.

He ignored me. “Tyree is in charge.”

“That’s who led them in?” Gav asked, but it was clear he didn’t need Taglia to confirm it. “I didn’t see his face.”

“What’s wrong with Tyree?” I asked.

Gav put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ve had issues in the past. If he thinks I’ve stepped into his investigation, whether I intended to or not, it’s not going to be pretty.” Gav cast a look over his shoulder, staring back at the front of the desolate, black-painted building. “Who am I kidding? It already isn’t.”

“WHAT HAPPENS NOW?” I ASKED.

Gav turned to Taglia. “Let me take Ms. Paras home, and I’ll check back with Tyree when I’m finished.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir. It would be best if you waited here until he returns. I’m certain Agent Tyree would want you to remain on-site for debriefing.”

Gav kept an eye on the storefront as though he hoped the gas mask team would emerge at any moment. I think we both knew that wasn’t going to happen. The look in his eyes told me he was debating his next move. He turned to Taglia. “You’re certain we’re not a hazard to the public, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I want to know what happened to my friend Evan,” he said without inflection. “You tell Tyree that I will be in touch. Very soon.”

“But, sir—”

“He knows where to find me.”

Gav pulled the sliding door open, wincing as he got out. I could tell it hurt for him to straighten even though he did his best to hide his infirmity from the other agent.

“Come on,” he said.

His tone was gentle, but I could tell he wasn’t seeing me. He’d slipped into agent mode, the personality he’d been locked into when we’d first met. I hadn’t cared for Gav much those first few days, but I’d come to know the man behind the duty. In this instance, I knew to follow where he led.

As I started back toward the car, Gav spoke quietly. “Keep a leisurely pace, Ollie. No reason to call attention to ourselves.”

I glanced around. There was no one behind us on the dark, deserted street except for the van parked in front of Evan’s place. Of course that didn’t mean some Gladys Kravitz wasn’t peeking out her window right now and dialing the police to report suspicious activity.

“What’s going to happen now?” I asked again.

Gav opened my car door, but his eyes never stopped scanning the area around us. “It’s too much of a coincidence that Evan asked me to stop by and now he’s dead.” Emotion worked its way across Gav’s features so briefly that if I hadn’t been looking for it I would have missed it. “Agent Tyree has some explaining to do.”

The drive was short and silent. Gav dropped me off at the front door, grabbing my left hand as I reached for the handle. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“When you find out more, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“If I can,” he said. “I don’t have any idea what’s going on. How about I come by your place tomorrow after work and I’ll tell you what I can. Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” I said, wanting to do whatever I could to make it better. Knowing there was no help for that. “I’ll make dinner. And we’ll talk.” Before I left him, I had to know. “Are you all right?”

“I will be.” Gav squeezed my hand. “You put up with a lot having me in your life.”

I shook my head. “I’d say it’s the other way around.”

“People close to me are always dying,” he said. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”

I thought about those five bound, gagged men, their vacant eyes, and the swift efficiency of the agents who’d swarmed in. I didn’t know any of the victims, yet my heart was heavy with loss. Could it really have been only yesterday that Gav had asked me to marry him? I’d been so happy. Just yesterday? It felt more like two years ago.

• • •

THERE WAS A STORM BREWING IN THE WHITE
House kitchen the next morning. I arrived to find Virgil leaning deep into Peter Sargeant’s personal space, scowling. He had both hands fisted into his hips. His voice was rising and thin.

Sargeant stood as erect as I’d ever seen him, his diminutive body so rigid that if I touched him, I thought he might give off a high-pitched
pluck
.

So deep were they in their argument, neither Sargeant nor Virgil took notice of me.

“And what about Doug’s feelings in all of this?”

Wait a minute.
I’d never known Virgil to care about anyone’s feelings but his own. Something was amiss here. Big-time.

Virgil was still talking. “He worked hard to get the chief usher’s office back into shape.”

Uh-oh.
Although it hadn’t been announced to the press yet, I knew that Sargeant, our sensitivity director, was to be named chief usher very soon. His promotion to the lofty position meant that henceforth, I would report to him. Virgil technically reported to me, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a personal interest in this reporting structure change. Virgil’s friend Doug Lambert, who had recently been dismissed from serving in the chief usher role in an interim arrangement, had expected to be named to the position permanently. I thanked my lucky stars that he hadn’t been.

“Back into shape?” Sargeant huffed. “Paul left everything in order. Precise order. If Doug had been half the man Paul was, the office wouldn’t be in the shambles it is now.”

With a glance at my watch, I realized that Bucky and Cyan were due to arrive at any minute. I also realized that it was precariously close to the Hyden family’s regular breakfast time. I noticed a savory dish in progress on the stovetop and another course in the oven, but it didn’t look as though Virgil had remembered that it was time to serve. Butlers would arrive soon, intent on taking a finished meal up to the Commander in Chief and his family. Virgil should know better. Even Sargeant should be aware. Yet these two combatants showed no sign of slowing.

“Doug deserved that position. I can’t believe you were able to convince the Hydens that you had any right to it. You’re hardly qualified. And that chef friend of yours, she had a hand in this. Doug said so. This isn’t fair. Not fair at all.”

“I serve at the president’s pleasure,” Sargeant said. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that you do the same.”

Virgil’s face, already blotched with emotion, darkened. “And you’ll be only too happy to weave your insidious little lies about me in reports to them, won’t you? Just like Paras does.” My ears perked up at the mention of my name. “The two of you are out to get me. With your high-and-mighty airs and with your obvious agenda to undermine me. Make no mistake: I’m onto you, Sargeant.”

“Enough,” I shouted.

The two men started, turning to me with unvarnished surprise. They really
hadn’t
seen me come in.

Glaring, I pointed to the clock. “Forgetting the First Family’s breakfast because you’re fighting with the chief usher is not good form, Virgil.” I stepped closer, lowering my voice. Even though I was shorter than both men, this was my kitchen and they both needed to remember that here, at least, I was the boss. “And for the record, Peter and I never need to make up insidious lies about you. You’ve proved more than capable of botching things up on your own.”

At the word
breakfast
, Virgil dropped his hands. His jaw went slack and the shift in his brain was evident from the expression on his face. With one glance at the clock, distress replaced his anger. He blew off the rest of what I’d had to say as he rushed to open the oven door. In his haste, he didn’t bother with protective mitts, instead dragging a dishtowel from his shoulder to examine the sizzling casserole.

Behind him, Sargeant tugged at the hem of his suit coat, stretched his neck, and pulled in a deep breath through his nose. To me, he said, “The news of my impending promotion has not gone over well in all corners.”

Part of me wished I’d kept my mouth shut and let Virgil fall on his face. Although he added a measure of value by handling family meals, thereby freeing up the rest of us to create lavish state dinners and food for official events, he was a toxic personality. His presence in the kitchen caused more harm than good, in my opinion. Bucky, Cyan, and I had covered for him in the past, hoping he’d eventually become an ally, or at least stop bickering with us. So far, no luck.

I sighed. Maybe I should have let Virgil and Sargeant continue to argue. Let breakfast burn. Allowed Virgil to suffer the consequences.

But that wasn’t my personality. Above all, my job here as executive chef was to ensure that the president, his family, and his guests were served the very best meals every single day. On time. Even though it might have served my own selfish purposes, I couldn’t shut off that sense of duty.

I turned to Sargeant. “I’m sorry to hear that. Have you found out when the official announcement will be made?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “They’ve called the press in. Can you believe that?”

Despite Sargeant’s downturned mouth and furrowed brow, I could tell he was pleased.

“Just don’t let the fame go to your head, like some people do.” I pointed to Virgil, who was practically dancing the casserole to the central counter, complaining the entire way about how he’d been interrupted, and how if breakfast was ruined it wouldn’t be his fault.

“Your confidence in me is underwhelming, Ms. Paras.”

I debated my next move, took a breath, and touched his arm. “A moment, Peter?” I asked, urging him to follow me across the small kitchen to the hallway that ran along its perimeter.

At the elevator, I stopped to take a look around. We were alone. “Seeing as how you’ll be my boss tomorrow,” I began, keeping as quiet as I could, “I believe there is a matter I need to bring to your attention.”

His eyes were bright, alert. “Go on.”

“Last night, I . . . that is, Gav and I . . . that is, Special Agent in Charge Gavin . . .”

“For heaven’s sakes, Ms. Paras, when have you ever been at a loss for words around me? I know who Gav is. Get on with it.”

Sargeant’s pique and his dependably annoying tone were reassuring to me, normal. Oddly, they provided the comfort I needed. His familiar irritation made me strong. “Gav and I happened upon a crime scene last night.”

Sargeant leaned back ever so slightly, but said nothing.

“It’s probably best if I don’t share details with you,” I said. “Not yet, at least. Not until I know more or am given clearance to tell you. I wanted to put you on alert, though. In case I get pulled away. In case things get strange around here all of a sudden.”

“With you here, Ms. Paras, things are always peculiar.”

He made that pronouncement without any trace of humor. Given the circumstances, I wasn’t surprised. “I can’t say why, exactly, but I don’t believe we’ll be seeing this crime on the news tonight.”

He gestured west with his eyes. “Have you alerted anyone else about this ‘situation’?”

“No.”

Sargeant’s eyebrows lurched upward.

“Without divulging too much,” I continued, “the Secret Service already knows. They’ll know what to do. Until I’m advised otherwise, I won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. Except this much, to you.”

“Noted.”

Behind us, in the kitchen, I could hear Virgil banging. “Breakfast ought to be ready by now,” I said.

As if to corroborate my statement, two butlers pushed their way into the small pantry area on their way to the kitchen. Right on time.

They disappeared in where the banging sounds escalated. We could hear Virgil muttering to himself, issuing orders to the butlers, his frustration building to a cringe-worthy crescendo. I patted Sargeant on the shoulder, which was about as friendly as the two of us would ever get. “I should probably get in there and help him,” I said.

He stopped me. “You know that Virgil believed that if Doug had been named chief usher, he had a chance at taking your job.” With a sigh, he added, “What a fool.”

“Then we’re especially lucky the Hydens were wise enough to appoint you. Congratulations again, by the way.”

“Ms. Paras?”

I turned.

“Tomorrow, at the press announcement?”

“Yes?”

“Your presence there would give the illusion of support,” he said. “I would appreciate it if you could attend. If you aren’t otherwise engaged, that is.”

I smiled. “I wouldn’t miss it, Peter. See you then.”