What other reason could there possibly be? Baxter had had tons of enemies. But Monty…
Savannah cried quietly in Dalton’s arms in the backseat of Derek’s Bentley, all the way to BAX. I admit I had to wonder if Dalton might be coming to regret being mixed up in her life, but he seemed wrapped up in her completely. And for that I could’ve kissed him.
Not that I didn’t think any man on the planet wouldn’t be damned lucky to be involved with my sister, but there were a lot of emotions flying around these days. Some guys didn’t handle emotions well. I’m just saying…
By the time we arrived at BAX, police cars and emergency vehicles surrounded the place. We had to wait at the door until a uniformed officer could find one of the detective inspectors to allow us inside. Even then, we were shuffled off to a few corner tables to wait with the other chefs and restaurant staff.
As soon as Colette and Kevin saw Savannah, the three women ran to each other and held on. There were sobs and sniffles and teary-eyed questions asking why this had to happen to Monty, of all people.
That was the real question, after all. And I couldn’t help but think that anyone in this room might have the answer to that question. What had happened to Monty pretty much put the ol’ kibosh on the random mugger theory. The killer was definitely one of the chefs.
But which one?
I glanced around. Raoul and Peter were talking quietly in the corner. Raoul was weeping openly and it made me like him even more than I already did. There was something so honest and real about a strong man showing such naked emotion.
“Oh, Brooklyn, isn’t it awful?”
I turned and saw Kevin, who grabbed me in a teary hug.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, meaning every word.
“It was so horrible,” she said, her voice trembling.
“What happened? Can you tell me?”
She nodded, then sniffed a few times to catch her breath. “Peter drove me and Margot over here and we walked in talking and joking, acting like we owned the place. Peter and I were teasing Margot about the menu.”
“What about the menu?” I asked.
Kevin giggled, right on the edge of hysteria. “She’d forgotten the hoisin sauce recipe for her spareribs. She was mortified! But when she called her sous chef up in Seattle to get it, he reminded her that she had threatened him with death if he ever gave away that recipe. So she’s yelling that it’s her recipe, but he’s adamant. ‘How do I know this is really you?’ he says.”
Kevin was laughing and crying now and had to stop and take a few deep breaths to calm down. “Anyway, we were the first ones to arrive. We waited out here for Monty, chatting and such while Margot made cappuccinos at the bar. But after ten minutes or so, Monty still hadn’t arrived, so Margot finally decided to get started. She turned the corner into the kitchen hallway and screamed.” A shudder wracked Kevin’s entire body. “I’ve never heard anyone scream so loudly. It was awful. I’ll never forget that sound.”
I completely understood, having both heard that sound and been the one making it in times past. “Did you see what she was screaming about?”
“Yes.” She gulped a few times, then said, “Monty was on the floor in the hallway. It was a gruesome sight. His back was arched up and stiff, you know? Like he was lying on a big exercise ball or something. Peter got close enough to check for a pulse, just in case. I stayed back, but I could still see Monty’s eyes.” She shuddered again and wrapped both arms around her middle as if trying to soothe herself, but it wasn’t working. “They were wide-open and…and there was some vile dried substance around his mouth and…” She gulped loudly. “Oh, God.”
Suddenly she cupped her hand over her mouth and ran out the front door. I assumed she was losing her breakfast, and I was feeling a little queasy myself now.
But my mind was too busy to indulge my uneasy stomach at the moment. Monty’s back was arched? A substance dried on his mouth? Eyes wide-open? What in the world could have caused him to die so horrifically? I was hardly an expert, but it sounded like some kind of poisoning to me.
And, that traitorous voice inside whispered, who knows better how to poison someone than a chef?
“Darling.”
I turned and saw Derek hovering inches away. Absurdly relieved, I pushed all thoughts out of my mind, walked into his arms and grabbed hold of him. “Did you hear what she said?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “It sounds like poison. Possibly strychnine.”
“I was thinking poison also.” I tipped my head back to look up at him. “But other than that, I don’t have a clue.”
“Strychnine poisoning is a terrible way to die,” Derek murmured, his tone grave. “Severe muscular contractions cause the victim to asphyxiate. It’s extremely painful but short-lived. Death comes quickly.”
My turn to shudder now. “Okay, too much information.”