So who was it that Colette was trying to fool? Besides the police? And why was she trying to make Baxter sound like such a saint? Even more important, why was she throwing her cutie-pie husband under the bus?
Jaglom turned the page in his notepad and looked across the table at Colette. “Do you know if any other chefs have similar strong feelings about Mr. Cromwell?”
Colette twisted her lips as though she was hesitant to tell the truth. “Well…there’s Savannah, of course. You know all about her, right?”
My ears perked up as Jaglom leaned closer. “What exactly should I know about Ms. Wainwright?”
Colette bit her lip, then blurted, “She dated Baxter for a while in Paris, but he dumped her. It was an ugly breakup.”
“I see.”
No, you don’t see! I wanted to shout. Savannah was the one who had dumped Baxter. Why was Colette turning it around? Why was she making Savannah sound like a woman scorned?
She was doing exactly what I’d warned Savannah about!
Colette whispered dramatically, “I think their biggest fight involved Savannah’s sister, Brooklyn. She liked Baxter, too.”
“Her sister?” Jaglom said. “Are you referring to Brooklyn Wainwright?”
“Yes,” Colette said with a knowing nod. “Anyway, Savannah took the breakup really hard and was upset for a long time. I’m not even sure she’s over it yet.”
You bald-faced liar! Where was my laser gun when I needed it? That big mouth of hers had to be silenced.
I didn’t dare sit up and look in her direction; if I did, Colette would feel my lethal vibes drilling into her devious mind. So I continued pretending to be asleep while taking copious mental notes. She wouldn’t get away with incriminating Savannah. Maybe she thought Savannah was too polite to strike back. But I wasn’t.
Even through my thin veil of hair, I could see Colette with both her elbows propped on the table and a look of phony concern on her face. I knew she was faking it. Anyone could see she was enjoying herself as she racked up the lies. I didn’t like the way Jaglom kept nodding his head and scribbling rapidly. Great. He’d scored a major bean spiller. What would she say next?
Jaglom flipped back a few pages in his notepad. “I’d like to return to the subject of your husband’s animosity toward Mr. Cromwell.”
“Oh, no, there’s no animosity,” she said, running her hand up and down her neck. It was a nervous gesture she’d done several times. “Raoul and Bax are great friends, really.”
So she was backpedaling now? Colette was definitely getting on my nerves.
Jaglom stared at her hard. “But you did say that your husband still harbored some negativity toward the deceased.”
“Oh, you must have misunderstood. The two of them were laughing and joking with each other all night.”
Huh? Clearly, she was having problems keeping her own lies straight.
Colette continued. “I guess I was being overly sensitive about Raoul’s feelings tonight because, well, Baxter and I used to have a little thing. Raoul’s still jealous about that, but he has no right to complain after he had his affair with Margot. And I’m almost glad he did because it evens the playing field—you know what I mean? Of course, Margot had an affair with Baxter, too. But then, who didn’t? Oh, well, that’s all ancient history. We’re all great friends now.”
Friends? This was how she dished about her friends? To the police? Did the woman have no filter? Ah, but at least she was an equal opportunity slanderer. And yet, despite all her mean-spirited blabbing about philandering and culpability, I wasn’t getting a killer vibe from Colette. All I got was a stupid, disloyal, bitchy vibe. But again, I’d been wrong before.
Now I was wishing I could listen in on the men’s conversations with Inspector Lee. Maybe if I invited Lee over for a glass of wine, she would share everything the male chefs had said. Not likely to happen, so maybe I could convince Derek to try and get the scoop from her.
Let’s face it—I was nosy. But why not? This was my sister’s life on the line, and I was willing to do what I had to do to protect her.
I would’ve loved to hear Raoul’s responses to the same questions Colette was answering so blithely. But I already knew that his basic good nature wouldn’t allow him to carelessly incriminate another person. Unlike his wife.
“I don’t believe for one moment that you’re sleeping,” Derek said quietly in my ear, startling the hell out of me.
I lifted my head slowly, hoping that anyone paying attention would think he had just awakened me. Glaring up at him, I whispered, “Shh! I’m trying to listen to her.”
He slipped into the booth beside me. “I can hear her clear across the room.”
“You can? Is Savannah listening, too?”
“I’m afraid Savannah’s sound asleep.”
I leaned against him. “We should all be asleep.”
He put his arm around me and I got more comfortable, laid my head on his shoulder, and closed my eyes.