Turn Up the Heat (7 page)

Instead of commenting on her coldhearted attitude, I said, “Snacker mentioned scheduling problems this morning. What’s been going on?”

“You don’t want to get us started.” Wade laughed. “But everyone keeps losing money because Gavin is fanatical about plugging us all into his computer system and relying on whatever idiotic schedule it generates. And half the time we’ve got too many servers and bartenders working during the slow times, so nobody’s making any money. And then when we’re swamped with customers, we don’t have enough people, so service isn’t what it should be, and then tips are low.”

It disturbed me to hear people focus on the business and not on the death of a fellow employee. Even Josh was wrapped up in trying not to lose customers. But I knew Josh, knew that he had a good heart, and understood that he was just trying to do what had to be done. Even so, I felt upset that the primary concern at Simmer was the restaurant’s well-being and not Leandra’s sudden and horrible loss of life. Evidently, the restaurant world did not stop for death.

SIX

BLYTHE
and Wade were both asked to give statements to the police. As I watched them move away, I wondered what they might know. How well had they even known Leandra? Realizing that everyone here was going to be questioned by the police triggered my sense of responsibility for Isabelle and prompted me to move in close to her. Of all the employees at Simmer, she was the one who seemed most alone. Yes, she now had roommates, but she was coming off years of fending for herself, years in which she’d had no family or no close friends. Now, just as she’d been settling into a job she loved and into a new life, a dreadful crime had occurred and, worse yet, had occurred in a place that she must have seen as the representation of her newfound safety and stability. “How are you holding up, Isabelle?”

“I’m fine. I mean, it’s really sad and all about Leandra, but I didn’t know her too well or anything. But you know what I can’t help thinking? If Leandra had lived, Gavin might have married her, and she really wasn’t such a nice person. I know I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but it’s true. Gavin deserves much better than what he got from her. He is really so nice, Chloe!” Her face colored, and she fidgeted with a paper napkin on the table. “I know there are a lot of complaints about Gavin, but he’s doing the best he can. Really he is. He just wants Simmer to run as smoothly as possible, and it’ll take a while to get everything going perfectly, right? I know everybody hates that restaurant management program on the computer, but eventually it’ll even out and all the problems will be fixed. He has a plan.” She spoke with confidence that went beyond optimism. What I heard in her voice was more than hope; it was absolute belief.

“I’m sure he does,” I said with a reassuring smile. In fact, I felt far from reassured. I still wasn’t used to hearing about staff discontent with Simmer’s owner. Most of my knowledge of Simmer came from Josh, who’d painted a picture of harmony among the staff and grateful respect for Gavin.

A female voice called out, “Chloe Carter?” It was my turn to be interviewed by the police. A detective, Patricia Waters, had me sit with her at a table for two. Detective Waters tucked her shoulder-length auburn hair behind her ears and flipped a notebook open to a clean page. I provided basic information about who I was.

“And your boyfriend is the chef here? Josh Driscoll?” she asked, scanning her previous notes.

I nodded.

“Take me through everything you can remember from this morning, okay?”

I narrated the details of picking up Owen and talking with Snacker. The linens had been delivered, I said. Owen had used the office for faxing. Finally, I described the gruesome discovery of Leandra’s body. I consciously opted to avoid mentioning the lines of cocaine I’d seen in the bathroom, and I said nothing of my suspicion that not all the employees here were legal residents of the U.S.

“Tell me why Owen’s truck was parked here overnight. And did you know Leandra well? Were Owen and Leandra involved?”

I explained that Adrianna was pregnant and went on to say that because she’d been exhausted last night, she’d wanted Owen to drive her home. He’d done what Adrianna asked, and then he’d walked to his nearby apartment. In response to the question of whether I’d known Leandra well, I said no. I added that she’d been involved with Gavin Seymour, who’d seemed to be crazy about her. No, there was no relationship between Owen and Leandra. Owen was going to marry Adrianna. Just because Ade and Snacker had had a meaningless fling a while back didn’t mean that my friends weren’t perfect for each other! I stressed that no one should listen to anything Snacker had to say about Owen, because Snacker was not his biggest fan. As I didn’t say aloud, I resented the implication that Owen had had anything to do with the murder. Instead of saying outright that Owen shouldn’t be treated as a suspect, I emphasized his loyalty to Adrianna. I didn’t say this aloud, either, but if Owen had been going to kill someone, it would’ve been Snacker! “Owen was the one who wanted me to see his truck,” I said. “It’s not like he was hiding it from me.”

Detective Waters continued her questions. “Was Leandra involved with anyone before Gavin? While she was with Gavin?”

I shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I knew her from spending time here because of Josh, but we weren’t close. Not by any means.”

“Gavin is a handsome man, don’t you think? There must have been other women who were interested in him.”

“Probably,” I said. Women who could’ve killed Leandra to get a shot at him? Obviously Isabelle’s harmless crush didn’t count, and I certainly didn’t want to bring up her name. “I’m sure he’s got tons of women all over him, but I don’t know of anyone specific.”

After another twenty-five minutes in which I described my observation of the linen deliveryman and gave a step-by-step description of finding the body and calling 911, I was done. I hoped I hadn’t said anything to implicate Owen. Or Snacker. Had I given the impression that Snacker despised Owen so much he could have plopped a dead body in Owen’s truck to frame him?

Josh and Snacker stood together, both increasingly irritated that they couldn’t get into the kitchen. Owen stood with them but was uncharacteristically quiet.

“It’s not like anyone got poisoned, right?” complained Snacker. “Everything probably happened in the alley and Owen’s truck, not in the restaurant and certainly not in our kitchen.” Snacker was taking every opportunity to point out Owen’s connection to this crime.

“The thing is, we don’t know how Leandra died. There were red marks on her neck, but there wasn’t any blood, right? Did you see any?” I asked.

“No,” Snacker admitted.

“Her death just couldn’t have been natural. It’s not like she suddenly felt ill, wandered into an unlocked fish truck, shut the door, and died.” I paused. “At least that’s not very likely.”

“Maybe she killed herself,” Josh suggested.

I rolled my eyes.
“In a fish truck?”

Josh looked over my shoulder. “I’m up, I guess.” He left to be grilled by Detective Waters. Owen finally decided to call Adrianna. Predictably, Snacker felt the urge to flirt with beautiful Blythe. And when Snacker felt an urge, he always succumbed to it.

Gavin sat alone. Ever the social work student, I decided that it was no time for him to be by himself. Consequently, I pulled out a chair, sat down, and adopted my best therapist posture, legs and arms uncrossed and relaxed, ready to receive what the client had to say.

Simmer’s owner looked at me sadly, blew his nose, and reached for a glass he’d managed to sneak from the bar. I could smell the alcohol from my chair. “I really, really cared about Leandra. I’m not sure we were in love yet, but we were definitely heading there.” He blew his nose again and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “And to top it all off, this could really hurt Simmer. I’ve got great plans for all of us. I know we’ve got a few kinks to iron out, but the seminars I’ve been attending on restaurant management all say that the staff may take a while to be trained properly. I cannot stress enough how important it is to have exact methods for taking inventory and keeping track of everything. It might seem like petty stuff, but it’s all about crunching numbers. There are so many ways to lose money that we’ve got to be on top of everything.”

Gavin was talking more to himself than to me. He was, I thought, struggling to focus on anything but his girlfriend’s murder. Denial. Typical defense mechanism. And a helpful one in getting him through this crisis. So I wasn’t worried about Gavin’s mental health. Simmer’s finances didn’t worry me, either. I assumed that the servers’ hourly rate was pretty low—it always is—so Gavin himself wasn’t losing a lot of money by overscheduling the front-of-the-house staff, whose principal source of income was tips. What really concerned me about Simmer was what Wade had described: namely, the effect of Gavin’s number crunching and management efforts on the servers’ tips and on the morale of everyone who worked at Simmer.

Gavin suddenly switched to speaking directly to me. “And you know what? Josh is the best chef around. Never mind what anyone says. What does a GM know about food or running a kitchen anyhow?”

Huh? I thought Wade really liked Josh. More often than I could remember, I’d heard the GM gush about how delicious Josh’s specials were, how hard Josh worked, and how great it was to have an executive chef of his caliber at Simmer. Now, come to find out, Wade had been bad-mouthing Josh to Gavin? The hypocrite! Instead of plastering his hair with all that gel, he should’ve used oily, greasy goo so he’d look like the slimeball he was.

Gavin took a large gulp from his glass. “We ought to be open today. Not only can we not afford to be closed, but Leandra knew how much this place meant to me. I know she’d want us to be open. What the hell happened, anyway? Leandra shouldn’t have been alone. What was she doing? Where was everyone? It was Wade and Kevin who closed last night, I think. I think that’s who it was.”

“That’s what I heard. Would it help you to talk to them?”

“I’d feel better knowing that they locked up and that nothing happened to Leandra in the restaurant. I’ll never forgive myself if what put her in danger was a security issue here.”

Gavin beckoned to his GM and his bartender, who came over to the table. Both wore tight black Simmer shirts. The too-tan, too-well-groomed, oh-so-Newbury Street look they shared was out of keeping with a murder scene as well as with the time of day. Both of them were, I thought, creatures of the night. Wade, with his perfectly gelled hair, at least looked ready to face the day.

Kevin had the same lean, muscular build Wade did, but Kevin was older than Wade—I guessed early thirties—with wide sideburns that ended in points midcheek and thick hair that had been slicked cleanly and firmly off his face. Kevin’s pointy sideburns weren’t meant for mornings, even for mornings in the artificial light of a restaurant, and his face was haggard. Kevin had some indefinable quality that made me feel a little embarrassed for him. He seemed to be getting too old to be shaping his sideburns and pouring drinks for Newbury Street’s young, rich crowd. Most of Simmer’s dining room customers were well over thirty, but the bar scene was always a young crowd. Maybe I was being unfair to Kevin; plenty of professional bartenders, servers, and hosts were out of their twenties. Perhaps he was trying too hard to fit in? Leandra said that Kevin had been shot down again the other night, and the thought of him hitting on barely legal women was embarrassing. Even Leandra had seemed to feel bad for him.

Wade leaned over and rested both hands on the table. “Everything was normal last night. Kevin and I were the last people here. We set the alarm, locked up, and left. Leandra left way before we did. We didn’t see or hear anything weird. Like I said, everything was normal.”

“Maybe I should have put video surveillance cameras outside. Do you think that would’ve helped?”

Kevin shook his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, we don’t even know what happened, really, but there’s no reason to think this could have been prevented.”

“Gavin, man,” Wade said, “I know how hard this must be on you and on the restaurant. It’s rough on Josh, too. I mean, he’s so dedicated to you and Simmer. But it’s not your fault. Just, you know, let us know if we can do anything for you.”

Gavin looked down and spoke in an almost inaudible whisper. “Leandra. She had so many friends from having worked at so many restaurants around Boston. Kevin, you and Leandra worked together before, right?”

Kevin nodded.

“And everyone here knew what a great person she was and appreciated all her contributions to Simmer’s success. She’s really going to be missed by a lot of people.”

Although Wade and Kevin again nodded, Gavin didn’t get quite the passionate response he was seeking. Fortunately, he was too caught up in his grief to notice. From what I knew of Leandra, she’d been a far from congenial staff member. Not that she’d deserved to end up as she had. Still, I could see why her coworkers were having trouble voicing genuine sorrow.

I excused myself and went over to intrude on Snacker’s flirting session with Blythe. What I walked in on turned out to be Blythe’s description of a term paper she’d written in college about feminist perspectives on pornography. “So there’s one school of feminist thought that decries all pornography as women selling their bodies as a commodity and sees pornography as totally degrading and belittling and all that. Another view is the one that supports a woman’s right to choose what she does. That view doesn’t necessarily approve of pornography but accepts a woman’s prerogative to make decisions about what she does. And the third view actually argues that pornography can be beneficial and empowering to women.”

“Uh-huh.” Snacker was clinging to her every word. “That is really interesting.”

Interesting
, my ass. Snacker just ate up Blythe’s talk about pornography. The little pseudolecture was vintage Blythe. She was managing to entice and even seduce Snacker by talking about sex and porn while still maintaining her academic air. I had to give her credit.