“The man had balls,” Dalton murmured.
“And not in a good way,” Savannah added. “But, Kevin, you said you weren’t being blackmailed.”
“I wasn’t,” Kevin said. “I told him to take his blackmail scheme and shove it up his arse.”
“Good girl,” I said.
“But when I saw him open your gift,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she wagged her finger at Savannah, “I knew in an instant that he’d stolen the book, and yet he’d been trying to blackmail me at the same time. And I wanted to kill him right then and there.”
Chapter Twenty
If your tongue is a dry one, soak it in water all night.
—The Cookbook of Obedience Green
Margot gasped. She had just joined the conversation and heard only the last few words.
“You killed Baxter?” she whispered.
“I didn’t get the chance,” Kevin grumbled. “But I’ll be glad to thank whoever did it. The man was a plague on the earth.”
I wouldn’t go so far as to thank a cold-blooded killer, but I understood Kevin’s feelings. “It’s no wonder you wanted that book so badly.”
She nodded. “I need to restore my father’s good reputation and return the book to the village museum, where it belongs. I want him to get his knighthood. There’s not a better man in the world than my father.”
By now all the chefs were gathered on both sides of the bar, listening to the end of Kevin’s story. I just wished I knew which one of them had killed two people and injured a third.
I touched Kevin’s knee. “Thank you for telling us what happened. I’ll return the cookbook to you tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Brooklyn.”
We both stood and after another brief hug, I glanced at my watch. It was time to set our plan into action. Looking at Savannah, I said, “I guess we should start the syllabub.”
She whirled around, gushing to everyone, “I’m so excited for you all to taste Brooklyn’s crowning achievement.”
Her tone was a little manic. I knew she was jumpy about what we were planning to do, so I gave her an encouraging smile. “It’s just pudding,” I said to the others. “Nobody’s in danger of me taking over their job, but I think you’ll like it.”
*
Savannah’s phone calls the previous evening had been specifically designed to coax Colette into cooking tonight. Margot had agreed to assist. It made sense because except for a side dish or two, they were the only two chefs who hadn’t gotten the chance to show off their talents.
I hated accusing anyone of the two murders, but it had to be done. Maybe Colette was innocent, but her locket in Peter’s backpack was too big a clue to go unquestioned.
We had argued for hours the night before about the explanation for Peter having the locket. And about where Monty fit into the scheme.
Had Colette killed Baxter? Had Peter witnessed her doing it? Doubtful. But I was still voting that Colette had argued with Baxter and then stabbed him with the knife. Maybe during the struggle, Baxter had ripped her necklace off and flung it somewhere. Somehow, Montgomery found the blood-encrusted locket and threatened to tell the police, so Colette had killed him.
Derek wasn’t certain. He didn’t think a woman would have the strength to shove that big knife into Baxter’s stomach. But Savannah had disagreed. Female chefs had to be strong, she’d argued, pointing out that both Colette and Margot were tall, well-built women.
I continued to try and plot out how Peter had obtained the necklace. Since he was the first to discover Monty’s body, perhaps he’d found the locket clutched in Monty’s fist. The locket was shiny and Peter was under a lot of stress, so his kleptomania kicked in and he took it.
Somehow Colette, who was looking more and more guilty in my eyes, had figured out that Peter had the locket and she went looking for it. When he tried to stop her from taking it, she coshed him with the first weapon she’d grabbed from his pile of tools.
Like I said, it was a loose theory. But how else could we explain how Peter had obtained Colette’s necklace?
Colette was the sturdiest of the four women chefs, so I agreed with Savannah that Colette had enough strength to jam that big fish knife into Baxter’s gut. And as far as injecting Montgomery with that rat poisoning, she’d only had to sneak up behind him to do it.
Was she being blackmailed by Monty or Peter? Was she a cold-blooded killer? Or was I just overly annoyed with her and willing to peg her with the crime? We would soon find out.
Standing in Baxter’s kitchen, I glanced at the other chefs. “I’m just going to take over this little corner to put my syllabub together.” Luckily Savannah had already claimed the spot for me and had laid out everything I would need, including ten glass dessert bowls.
Raoul flashed one of his sexy grins at me. “Can I help you with dessert? I am somewhat of an expert.”