The Billionaire Chef Page 12

  Although the evening was a fun affair for all present, Hannah and Vera were scheduled to judge the following day. Thus, they both called for an early night. Ducky arrived by transport to pick up all the Starvling’s and Hymn around 10:30, and by 11:15 PM, they were in their respective rooms.

  Hannah felt edgy and tried to drive away thoughts of the case as she readied herself for bed. A smile graced her face as she lay on the bed, talking to Hymn. She arranged pillows under his braced leg to make him more comfortable.

  “They like you.” she said, finishing up. She moved up beside him and leaned on his arm. “Gran’s a pistol, isn’t she?”

  “And your Papa Jay carries them,” he responded.

  Both chortled.

  “So, what’s on tomorrow’s agenda, Sweet Face?”

  “You know, same old, same old. Judge, investigate, listen to Gran make inappropriate comments about babies and such.”

  Hymn nodded. “Figured as much. Anything I can do to help?”

  Hannah snuggled up even closer as he put his arm around her. “You’re doing it now,” she cooed.

  For a few minutes, the two laid back in quietness enjoying the moment. Then Hannah remembered Cate. She promised to call and check on her best friend and the weight of that now loomed over her.

  “Why don’t you text her?” Hymn suggested. “She’ll get it in the morning. On the other hand, if I’m remembering correctly, she doesn’t sleep much, anyway. You may just catch her.”

  Hannah agreed. Just checking in, she typed. She set the cell next to her bed and was again about to slide up next to Hymn when the phone rang. Cate. Hannah picked up the phone and answered.

  “Hey, sweetie.”

  “Hey, yourself. You’re up late. What’s up with that?”

  “Well, I had a lot on my mind and I was thinking of you, so…”

  “Liar, you’re with Hymn, but that’s okay. I get it. He’s some cannoli and I’m a store-bought doughnut. Who wouldn’t rather have the cannoli?”

  “You’re not a doughnut. You’re more like a cream puff, handmade.”

  “A rich, chocolate one I hope.”

  Both women laughed.

  “So, let me guess. Another case just turned up, and you need my help.”

  “Always, but you, how are you?”

  There was a pause as the girls waited. Finally, Cate said. “Last time we talk about this tonight. I’m doing it and Al’s doing it with me. Not that there will be much for him to lose there.”

  Again, laughter as Hannah suppressed the urge to cry. “I’ll do it too,” she added.

  “The heck you will. He’ll be cute, like a tubby little cue ball. You’ll just look scary. Hymn will love you no matter what, but I’m sure he’ll like you an itsy-bitsy bit more with hair, so, no way, no how. Not that I don’t appreciate it. I do, girl. You know that, but well… Anyway, laptop ready.”

  Tears made their way down Hannah’s cheek as she cleared her throat. She rested back on Hymn’s chest as she talked, his arm draped around her waist.

  “And no crying, sister,” Cate said. “We’ve done enough of that already. Now, we do what comes natural to you. Hit me with some names.”

  Cate’s words made Hannah smile again. “I couldn’t do this without you. All right, I need you to look into the following people. I’m too wrapped up to do it myself, so…”

  Hannah gave Cate a list of names: Serizawa ‘Ducky’ Kamo, Johnny ‘The Twister’ Wexler, Janine Babel nee Wexler, Lukas Grimm, Madeline Doyle and Captain Thomas ‘Tom’ Bigby. She provided her with what details she was privy too. “I know it’s a long list, but there is going to be at least one more. I haven’t gotten his name yet.”

  “You will. You always do.”

  Thereafter, the two friends talked for a long while. Glancing over at the clock, Hannah apologized for keeping her friend awake.

  “Come on now. I’m not the one who wakes up looking like death warmed over, not yet anyway.”

  There was a silence.

  “I’m joking. I’ll be fine. I got Al, Buster, family, and you, my sister. Trust me. I have everything I need. Love you, sister. Hi to that man of yours. Night.”

  After they hung up, Hannah settled back with Hymn. For the first time, the two shared a bed, albeit exhausted, and sleeping with their clothes on.

  The last words that drifted through her mind before she succumbed to the sandman was, “Gran’s gonna have a field day with this.”

  The phone rang in Hannah’s room, a prearranged wake up call. She rolled to the side of the bed and looked at her cell. 6:45. I hate this job. Yawning, she rubbed her face and blinked. Something comes next. What comes next? Three loud door raps came from the hall. It startled her to wake. She scooted from beneath Hymn’s arm and made her way to her room through the connecting door. She again looked at the cell. 6:50. Coffee. Breakfast. She staggered to the door and swung it open and then stepped back. Expecting to see Ducky, instead she saw the smiling face of a young woman. Even half asleep, out of instinct, Hannah sized the woman up. Late teens, early twenties. Short black hair. Dark skin. Medium weight. Small stature. 5’0” or thereabouts. Dark eyes and lips. Pretty. East Asian descent. She glanced at the woman’s name tag. Madhu.

  “Good morning, ma’am, your breakfast.”

  Hannah waved her in and pointed to where to leave the cart. She retrieved a few bills from her purse and gave it to the woman. “Is Ducky off today?”

  “No, ma’am, he called in sick. Will there be anything else?”

  Hannah declined, and the attendant turned to exit. She noticed the woman gave the room a quick once over on the way out. After the door closed, she peered around the room. She wondered if the woman was checking out the state of the room for hotel purposes, or was she looking for something in particular? The smell of the coffee hit her nose and interrupted her contemplation. Taking in the aroma, she commented aloud, “Girl, get a grip. Not everyone is a suspect.” She staggered into the next room to wake Hymn.

  Waiting in her room as he showered and dressed, she prepared her coffee per usual and took the time to order extra food for Hymn. She considered the day ahead, all the while eyeing the door.

  After eating, she showered and dressed. She slipped into her short mauve business dress and broke it up with a wide, black belt. Mauve pumps and her usual trademark hat concluded her outfit. Checking herself out in the mirror first, she stepped out of the bathroom to present herself to Hymn.

  Looking her over, he said, “I love it. So, what are you doing today, who are you tailing, and what can I do to help?”

  Hannah leaned in and gave Hymn a long, deep kiss. Pulling back, she looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m judging, tailing no one, and you, sir, can stay off the leg and get better. I have plans for you, mister, and you in a leg brace are not part of them.”

  “Ooh, sounds interesting. Would Gran approve of them?”

  Hannah stood tall over him. She put her hands on her hips and gave a mischievous grin, adding a wink for emphasis. One more quick kiss and she headed toward the door.

  “Are you kidding me?” Hymn called after. “Just like that? You’re going to leave me, a poor, helpless, crippled man on that note? All alone, cold, and waiting.” He gave an impish smile and added, “Are you trying to drive me crazy?”

  As she pulled the door closed, she peeked back around the edge. With an equal grin, she said, “That’s the general idea.” She pulled the door shut and moved next door to Gran and Papa Jay’s door.

  “I need the two of you to do a favor for me.”

  “Name it, Sweetness,” Papa Jay responded.

  “Could you call Janine?” Hannah gave Gran the number. “Check in and see how Elias is doing. I’m kind of worried. I don’t think she or her father have left once.”

  “Not good, given her condition. Maybe we should stop in and insist on them stretching their legs,” Papa Jay said.

  Gran agreed. Hannah hugged both her grandparents. “This was supposed to be a vaca
tion for y’all.”

  Papa Jay crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think it isn’t? All this running around, hiding under beds, and chasing down clues, Scooby here’s in heaven.”

  Hannah waited for her grandmother’s usual, sarcastic retort, but nothing came. The elder Starvling just smiled and agreed.

  “Can’t argue. This, it’s like a theme park for us gumshoes.”

  “One other thing, do you think you could check on Hymn now and then? I’m supposed to be a guest judge today. I could be doing anything. Don’t want to get caught up and not buzz him, even though he’s just next door.”

  “Of course, dear. We heard you two talking this morning. Morning after breakfast?”

  “If by morning after, you mean falling asleep with our clothes on in his bed, then yes, morning after breakfast.”

  Papa Jay shook his head in disappointment. Hannah found relief in the fact that he stared at Gran and not her. But Gran wore a disappointed expression. She put one hand on her hip and shook the other in her granddaughter’s direction.

  “That’s not how it’s done. We need to have the talk again.”

  “The only thing she needs for you to do is to dial back that great grandmother-o’clock of yours, woman. Sheesh.” Papa Jay hugged Hannah. “I’ll do you one better. I’ll drag Hymn along. Keep his mind off you for a bit. You can concentrate knowing he’s taken care of. How’s that?”

  “Thank you.”

  “If you’re lucky, you get the fish room. Just avoid that one with peaches.”

  “Straight from Satan’s derrière. Got it. Love you both.”

  Hannah made her way back downstairs via the stairwell and then over to check with the event coordinator. The older woman with silver hair drawn into a bun at the back of her head, drew a bony finger along a clipboard and stopped. She glanced up at Hannah through old style, horn-rimmed glasses. As she eyed the top hat, she stated, “Pâtisserie régional.”

  The news pleased Hannah. The thought of judging local cookies and cakes whetted her appetite. After inquiring about the room, she headed down the event room hallway. Halfway to her destination, she ran into Vera, who was none too pleased. She held up her assignment card. “Local seafood,” she commented with a displeased face. “You?” Upon viewing Hannah’s card, the heiress shook her head. “Madeline and you, lucky.” Hannah noted the hint of sarcasm and jealousy in her friend’s voice.

  After a brief exchange, Hannah agreed to catch up with Vera at some point. She excused herself to make it to the judging table on time and headed off down the hall. Along the way, she puzzled over the fact that Madeline and she drew the same category. The restaurateur had embellished upon her relationship with Elias. She feigned a passing knowledge of Hannah when Ducky reported her as an admirer. Now, to be saddled with her a second day as a fellow judge seemed too much to be mere coincidence. What does she want though, Hannah puzzled? And what does she know? She decided that regardless of the situation, she could use it to her advantage. The watched would become the watcher.

  After one brief stop to give Critic a bit of love and a hidden snack, she found the exhibition room and entered. Hannah spotted Madeline and gave a forced greeting.

  “We meet again,” Madeline said.

  “Indeed. If this keeps up, I’ll think you are following me.” Hannah brought forth her best, cheesy smile. She wanted to unnerve the woman and to see where it would lead. Watching Madeline, she waited for a reaction. A subtle move would suggest something. She found herself disappointed when nothing came forth.

  Hannah was on the verge of trying another tactic when a voice called out to her.

  “Hannah Starvling,” boomed a deep, rich, French laced voice. She turned and saw a man standing, arms wide as if awaiting a hug. Tall, black male. Dark skin. Welcoming smile. Joyful eyes. Greying at temples. Deep set, brown eyes. Sixties. Realizing who the man was, she smiled. She moved to hug him, but halted as two larger men beside him bristled. The man waved them back, and they relaxed as Hannah moved forward. “Ambassador Salomon,” she said as he wrapped his arms around her.

  After releasing her he said, “It gives my heart great joy to see you here.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “Please, you know better. You may call me Felix.” He leaned in and whispered as he thumbed to his guards, “But don’t let them hear you. I don’t let them use that name.” He smiled and turned to his guards. “Gentlemen, this is Hannah Starvling. She once saved my life. For that, I will be forever in her debt.”

  Hannah smiled. She introduced Madeline to the man, and they shook hands. Hannah then responded, “I was unaware that you would be here. How is your wife?”

  “Oh, how do you Americans say, fat and sassy?”

  Hannah and the ambassador laughed as Madeline issued a slight grin.

  “No, no, she is most fine. So kind of you to ask. I will relay that to her. It is most unfortunate, but she could not attend with me. Perhaps next year, but this year, I come in support of my nephew. He is representing our nation in the international field tomorrow. Today, he is judging beside you.”

  Hannah grinned. “A chef? Wonderful.”

  “Ah, there he is.” The ambassador waived his arms, and Hannah and Madeline both turned to see a man approaching. A man Hannah was all too familiar with. Samori, she recalled to herself. She assessed him against the physical description of before and the new information. Late twenties. African. Ivorian. A chef. Handsome. Large eyes. Appear chocolate brown. Head shaven. Medium height. Slight frame.

  As he approached, Hannah noticed the man never smiled, but held a solemn, steady gaze.

  “Nephew, this is the woman I have told you of so many times. Hannah Starvling. Hannah, please allow me to introduce you to my nephew, Samori Drogba.”

  Hannah offered a hand and Samori returned the same, dipping his head in a slight courtesy bow. “Ms. Starvling. I have indeed heard much of you.”

  “Nothing bad I hope.”

  Samori gave a slight smile, but said nothing. Hannah thought back to their first encounter and wondered had he seen her on the day of Elias’ fall. Then she considered their second encounter in Elias’ hotel room. She and Gran overheard his conversation with a person whom she suspected to be Dahlia, only later to find out that was the name of a yacht. A flood of questions assaulted her mind. Why the intense expression at Elias’ accident site? Why were you there? What were you looking for in the room? And again, who was on the phone with you?

  The ambassador interrupted Hannah’s thoughts. “Well, I must be off. I have a meeting across the border and must make my way there. Nephew, I stopped by to wish you good luck tomorrow and to remind you of what I said.”

  Hannah watched with curiosity as Samori nodded. She observed an unexpressed but visible understanding between uncle and nephew. Salomon and Samori shook before he once again opened his arms to extract a hug from Hannah. She obliged, and he said, “We must all have dinner soon. My nephew is mastering the art of a specialty food, the truffle. Perhaps we could have him prepare some for your pleasure.”

  Upon hearing this, Hannah turned her head to Samori. “Truffles, a rather expensive specialty.”

  Once again, Salomon cut in. “Ah, but I have a French connection. Being an ambassador does have its little perks. I must go, but please, Hannah, consider my offer. Nephew, watch over my good friend.” With that, the ambassador and his guards left the room.

  Hannah watched the man exit before turning back to Samori. “You look familiar to me. Are you traveling the circuit? Attending a lot of festivals?” she inquired, attempting to establish a connection between Elias and him.

  Samori glanced her over. “I have not. This would be my first.”

  First. Hannah considered the information. She never heard the name Samori Drogba before a few moments prior. Now, he stood before her, an acting judge at one of the world’s largest food festivals. Judges were sought out for various reasons. Madeline was a restaurateur and businesswoman, and
at one time was a prominent pasta chef. In culinary circles, she was a mover and a shaker. Hannah specialized in pastries and pastas. She also carried her reputation as a culinary detective. Elias’ reputation centered on his expertise in truffles. Vera held skills in French regional. She also oversaw the most popular cooking show in America as well as in several other countries. Every judge had a reputation for something, but Samori was an unknown. All she knew about him came from her perception of him at various times and locales. His presence at Elias’ accident. Her encounter with him in her friend’s room. And now, her introduction to him through his uncle. His uncle. Salomon. Well-connected. Influential. Was that who he spoke with in the room, she asked herself? Once again, she twisted her nose to and fro, unaware of her action. Samori’s voice brought her back.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Oh, no, sorry. Just thinking about my first time judging. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

  “What’s not to enjoy?” Madeline interrupted. “The hard part will be not swallowing.”

  Hannah gave a smile. “Let’s go over the rules so we are all on the same page.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After reviewing the rules, the group got the competition started. Madeline, Samori, and Hannah were presented with, and they tasted a plethora of baked goods. Between, presentation categories, Hannah attempted to engage Samori in conversation. His reception was cool. He answered in short, staccato sentences. Abrupt and to the point, Hannah added to her profile. She watched as the Ivorian engaged each contest. At these times, he presented himself as friendly and open, but with Hannah, he was cool, calm, and collected. Holding back, Hannah noted. Studying his body language, she determined him to be nervous, not about the event, but with her questions. Under normal circumstances, she would press forward, but this time, her gut instinct told her to back off. He won’t bolt. He’ll shut down. She eased off and concentrated on the presented food. Rather than spit out the food she tasted, she instead did what she was not supposed to, and swallowed each savory bite. After taking a bite of each piece, she collected the remainder of each treat in a pastry box she requested. After a questioning look from Madeline, Hannah said, “Waste not, want not.” The restaurateur gave a meek, but shocked smile.