A Cookbook Conspiracy

Kevin sat at the bar, talking softly to Peter, who stood close by. She was leaning into him and he was comforting her, and the love they felt for each other was downright palpable. To me, at least. I thought it was too bad they’d found each other again under such painful circumstances. If they made it through these next few days together, their relationship would be that much stronger for it.

 

Raoul stood alone, leaning against the large plate-glass window and staring out at the street. Was he gazing at the park across the street, wishing he was out there flying a kite instead of here in Baxter’s restaurant where murder was becoming the special of the day? Mission Dolores Park provided such a beautiful view with its green grass climbing up that massive steep hill and the chunky, iconic palm trees that lined Dolores Street’s median. Who wouldn’t rather be out there than in here?

 

He looked so lonely gazing out the window that I almost walked over to console him. But I didn’t want to intrude on his private grief, so I stayed where I was and continued to play the casual observer. It was a good thing, because a moment later, Raoul turned and I saw something in his soulful brown eyes that I’d never seen there before. Burning anger mixed with raw hatred.

 

Who was he looking at?

 

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. His expression so unnerved me that I stood up and dashed to the ladies’ room to escape the corrosive quality of his vibe. Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I felt a little silly for getting so worked up. I splashed some water in my face and told myself to snap out of it. Whatever “it” was. Fear? Shock? Sadness? Maybe a little of all three. Make that a lot, especially fear. That look in Raoul’s eyes had freaked me out. He was normally such a sweet, easygoing man. What had happened to make him so bitterly angry? To fill him with so much of the hate I’d read in his eyes? Or had I glimpsed the real Raoul in that expression while the man I thought I knew was only the mask?

 

I’d always imagined Raoul was too kind ever to hurt another living creature. Now I wondered if he’d been fooling us all for years. Had the anger inside him turned him into a killer?

 

I kept replaying that moment in my mind, when he turned away from the window and focused that laser beam of anger on…who? I pictured the room in my mind, the small groups of people sitting together in different parts of the restaurant. Peter and Kevin. Colette and Margot. Dalton and Savannah. Me. The uniformed officer standing guard at the hall entrance.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

I glanced at the door and saw Savannah peeking in. “Come in. I’m fine. I just got a little light-headed out there for a minute.”

 

She walked in and closed and locked the door behind her. “I know how you feel. I’m so emotionally unbalanced right now, I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself crawling on the ceiling.”

 

I gave her a sympathetic smile. “It’s scary, but you’ll get through this. We all will, eventually.”

 

“But two murders in just a few days? It’s too much.” She shook her head, at a loss as to how to take it all in. “I don’t know how you do it, Brooklyn, but you’re obviously built to handle these things better than I am.”

 

Et tu, Bugs? I thought. I was getting that a lot lately. Why did everyone assume I was attracted to this kind of stuff? I frowned at her reflection through the mirror. “You know I don’t do it on purpose, right?”

 

“I know, sweetie.” She sat on the small couch behind me. “But you know what I mean. It’s different for you. You have this natural but weird sort of thought process you go through. It’s completely unlike mine. I’m not sure why—maybe it’s from working on all those books. They’re like puzzles. You take them apart and then have to figure out how to put them back together in a whole new way. And when you have a problem to solve, you look at it from all these different angles, and then you fix it. It’s a lot like solving mysteries, isn’t it?”

 

I turned and smiled at her, inordinately pleased that she actually understood me. “That’s exactly what it is.” Leaning closer, I added, “But I’d still rather not deal with so many dead bodies.”

 

“I don’t blame you there.” She shivered. “Gross.”

 

“Totally.” I turned back to the sink and splashed one more handful of water into my puffy, tear-soaked eyes, then dried my face and hands and fixed a smile on my face. Checking the mirror, I could see I looked a little grim, but it would have to do. “Let’s go.”

 

The police were well into the interview process when we returned to the main room. I didn’t see Derek anywhere, so I figured he was still somewhere in the back with the cops. I avoided looking at Raoul. I wanted to talk to Derek about what I’d seen, but that would have to wait.

 

“Ms. Wainwright?” Inspector Lee had just led Kevin out from the private room where she was conducting interviews.

 

“Yes?” Savannah and I answered at the same time.

 

“Not you, Wainwright,” Inspector Lee said, her lips twisting in a wry grin. “Your sister. Let’s go.”

 

Savannah looked at me. “Is she talking to you or me?”

 

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