Tarte Tatin Murder Page 4

  “What did you think of him? Was he good at his job?” Ashley hoped she wasn’t asking too much too soon. She didn't want him to feel like she was interrogating him; keeping it casual would be much more likely to get her the information she needed.

  “He was brilliant. The research going on here is ground-breaking, and it was his baby. We are about to wind up the clinical trials and, if the data holds up to analysis, there could be a cure for cancer on the market in a matter of months. Based on the preliminary data, the FDA has already accepted our application for approval consideration.” Blake was clearly proud to be a part of the success of the research.

  “What’s it like to work in the lab?” Ashley wasn't sure what she was looking for, so she was relieved when Blake seemed to understand the question better than she did herself.

  “Trials are stressful for everyone. There's a lot of work—someone works pretty much around the clock, every day—and there's a lot riding on the work. If we do this right, millions of lives could be saved, so there's always that shadow over you, making you really conscious of not wanting to make any kind of mistakes. It can make people snap at each other, but most of us get along pretty well.”

  “If the trials are drawing to an end, what's next? Was there still going to be work going on? Or was this a chance to relax and rest a bit?”

  “Oh, sure. The data still has to be analyzed and then the academic paper has to be written and published. And, of course, the FDA—the Federal Drug Administration, that is—still has to approve the drug for the market. It will still take a few months, but that's not so long when it means being recognized as the man who cured cancer!”

  “That makes sense,” Ashley acknowledged. “You said you were away from the lab yesterday?”

  “Well, most of the day. I was in for a little while in the morning, but I left around noon to go surfing. One of the other staffers was supposed to be in around one o'clock, so I headed out to the beach. Even Green would have understood taking a lunch break, so I didn't think he'd mind that I closed things up for an hour.”

  Ashley mentally crossed her fingers and asked, “Do you know of anyone who might want Dr. Green dead? Did he have any enemies?”

  For the first time, Blake looked a little hesitant about talking to her. “Well, most people really didn't like him very much. He—well, he wasn't very popular.”

  “Oh? Why was that?”

  Blake grimaced. “Well, he was pretty rude to nearly everyone. It got so bad with the families of the trial participants—you know, those trying the new drugs—that he was pulled from actual patient interaction; he treated them really badly. And he was just so intense; he expected everyone to be at the top of their form all the time, with no let down. He could be pretty tough if he thought someone was slacking off.”

  He took a deep breath. “Plus he was constantly harassing the women in the lab, especially Dr. Graham—Wendy Graham; she's co-PI, you know, the Principal Investigator who is leading up the grant-funded research project. He was always hitting on her, even when she rejected him, which she did every time. He would proposition her more than once just about every day, and he had his hands all over the other female lab staff. And, of course, there was a lot of professional competition; after all, in order for Dr. Green to win the prize for being the first to develop a cure for cancer, someone else has to lose. I don't think anyone would kill him for any of those reasons, though; I mean, that's a pretty intense reaction!”

  Nodding, Ashley started to ask another question, but they were interrupted when another young man walked in, giving her an inquiring look.

  She reintroduced herself. “Hello, my name is Ashley Adams. I'm so sorry for your loss. Could we talk for a few minutes about Dr. Oliver Green? I'm helping the police with their investigation.” She felt a little guilty about the half-truth, but she was helping them; they just didn't know about it and they weren't aware they needed any help in the first place. She was only stretching it a little, not really lying outright.

  “Thank you,” the man muttered, looking past her as he accepted a beignet from the plate she proffered. “I'm Evan Richard. I wish I could help, but this is a critical time in our work, and we don't have time for trivial distractions. I'm a PhD candidate working with Dr. Green and Dr. Graham and with Dr. Green—umm, gone, I have a lot of work to do to make sure it moves forward.”

  “How well did you know Dr. Green?” Ashley watched as a dusting of powdered sugar from the beignet danced on Evan’s upper lip when he spoke, thinking it a little weird that he considered the murder of his boss nothing more than a distraction.

  “Well, he was my employer and mentor. I've been working with him since the project's beginning. I knew him about as well as anyone, I guess. We were pretty tight.” Evan finally wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know, I really want to honor his legacy by keeping the trials and the publication on track. It's the least I can do for him; he was my mentor, and I owe him a lot. So, I'm sorry, but I really need to get to work; I simply don't have time to talk about anything that isn't related to the project. Please excuse me.” He grabbed another beignet off of Ashley’s tray and headed to the back of the lab with a nod.

  Ashley thanked Blake again and left. Remembering Green harassing the young woman volunteer at the tournament, she made a mental note that she definitely needed to talk to Wendy Graham. She also wondered about Evan Richard and his seemingly uncaring reaction to Dr. Green's death. He was certainly an arrogant and confusing young man.

  CHAPTER 7

  Ashley got back to Seagrass with plenty of time to stop by the country club, pick up the equipment she'd left behind and try to get some information while she was there. She looked around the parking lot, but there were only a few cars parked under some shady trees. Hoping someone could let her into the kitchen, she ventured inside.

  “Good morning, Ms. Adams. It's nice to see you back today; is there anything I can do to help you?” Greg was dressed more casually today, and he looked much more comfortable as well.

  “ I need to pick up some things I accidentally left in the kitchen yesterday. Is there someone who can let me in?”

  “I'm not sure, but Stacey, the bartender, is at the bar. She might be able to help you.”

  Before he could turn back to his post, Ashley plunged in. “How are you after yesterday? I'll bet your evening was crazy, what with the murder and all.”

  “Oh, yeah, it was intense. I was supposed to get off at six, but I didn't get to leave until after ten. The boss asked me to stick around until the police finished talking to everyone and we could get them on their way home, and we all helped get the food that was supposed to be served at the awards ceremony stashed away. I can't believe someone was killed out there on the golf course, and I would never have thought Mr. Brady would do anything like that!” Greg shook his head and started to walk away again.

  “Some of us aren't really sure that he did. Do you know of any enemies Dr. Green might have had? I mean, I didn't know him, and I can't imagine what would make someone do something like that!” Ashley widened her eyes, trying to avoid looking like she was interrogating the young man.

  “Well, he didn't come around a lot, but he wasn't super popular when he did. He was pretty rude, and he was so out of line with the ladies on staff. A real creep.” Greg looked around, as if suddenly realizing that he probably shouldn't be talking negatively about members. “Hey, I've got to get back to work. Let me know if you need help with your stuff or anything.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I need to talk to some more of the women at the lab or here at the club,” Ashley thought. “I wonder if some husband or boyfriend could have gotten angry enough to kill him.” Ashley shook it off for the moment; she needed to get her equipment and get back to the kitchen. Things for the afternoon tea were under control, but she wanted to be available to help Patty with the planning and prep for the weekend's auction meal.

  Stacey was restocking the bar area. “Hi, Stacey! Is the manager here? I re
ally need to get my stuff out of the kitchen this morning.”

  “Hey, girl! No, Javier's not here, but I have a set of keys now,” the bartender replied, holding up a key ring. “I feel really awful about bad-mouthing him yesterday, too. I didn't know his daughter recently passed away from cancer—it's no wonder he's been distracted. I can't even imagine going through something like that. I guess that's a lot more important than whether or not some old coots have more whiskey than they really need.”

  “Oh, how sad! How did you find out?” Ashley felt bad about prying, but she needed to get all the information she could to help Charlie.

  “You know how he went missing yesterday? Apparently, he had some kind of breakdown and had to leave. One of the club's board members convinced him to take some time off to grieve and recover, instead of trying to come back to work so soon. He left right before those two golfers found the dead guy.” Stacey looked solemn for a minute. “I'm just glad they didn't make me the interim manager; that's a headache I can definitely do without. Handling members in the bar is plenty for me, and I'd hate spending so much time shut away in an office instead of talking to folks.”

  Ashley nodded farewell and collected her equipment from the kitchen. As she walked back to the car, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket.

  “Mayday! SOS! And all those other emergency things! We have a crisis—can you come to the kitchens right away?” Clearly, Patty was in a panic.

  “On my way—be there in 10” Ashley texted back, wondering what was going on. “RU OK?”

  “No injuries—just hurry PLEASE!!!” came back almost instantly.

  She walked into the back door of the kitchen to the banging and clanging of pots and Patty's French-laced swearing. “What's going on? What's got you in such a frenzy?” Ashley asked, ducking as a dishtowel came flying towards her.

  “Augh! Tonight—it's tonight!” Patty wailed. “They want the auction dinner tonight instead of Sunday! How am I supposed to prepare a five-course meal with less than eight hours' notice?”

  “That's not good, but we can pull this together, so calm down. What's in the freezer that we can work with?”

  “I promised them coq au vin as the main entrée, but I have to prepare an appetizer, a soup-and-salad course, some kind of fish and dessert. I've been getting everything ready to go into the oven for the chicken; I haven't even had a chance to look for the rest.”

  “Okay, I'll see what's in there. I think you put some butternut squash bisque in there, and I know I've got some pastries. There’s not enough time to make the tarte tatin like I’d hoped, but I have extra chocolates I won't need for this afternoon, along with some profiteroles that we can fill with cream and jam. How about a shrimp crepe for the seafood course? And we can do a simple salad with romaine lettuce, dried cranberries, and toasted walnuts. There should be some of your raspberry vinaigrette left, too; it's perfect with the salad, especially with a bit of blue cheese crumbled on top.”

  Patty took a shuddering breath. “That's not super fancy, but I think it's perfect on such short notice. We have some grainy rye bread that would make the perfect croutons to float on the soup, and I picked up some lovely asparagus this morning. It would pair beautifully with shrimp and Mornay sauce to fill the crepes without making that course too heavy. And I'm pretty sure there's some lemon sorbet that would go well with the pastries; we could use that lemon curd you made last week to fill them instead of jam, and then we can drizzle it all with a raspberry sauce. You, girl, are a genius!” She grabbed Ashley and wrapped her in a bear hug.

  They spent the afternoon pulling together their improvised menu. Ashley slipped out to serve the ladies attending the afternoon tea in the front dining area, promising to meet Patty at the auction winner's home by 6:00 to set up the romantic meal for two.

  “Patty, this meal is spectacular,” Nancy commented. “It was the perfect meal for our thirtieth wedding anniversary.” Nancy reached for the hands of her husband Robert, a CURE board member, across their own dining room table. They had clearly enjoyed the dishes Patty and Ashley labored over at the last minute and had held hands most of the evening. It was easy to see why their marriage had lasted for so long.

  “Wait until you taste the dessert,” Patty said, smiling. “You'll definitely feel like there's a party going on when you get a bite of Ashley's profiteroles and lemon curd. And the chocolates are divine!”

  As the couple enjoyed their dessert, the two friends began clearing things away in the kitchen. They could hear Robert and Nancy talking and, when the conversation turned to the murder, the chefs stopped to eavesdrop openly, huddling close to the swinging service door between the kitchen and dining room to catch every word.

  “What possible reason would Charlie Brady have for killing Oliver Green? I know Oliver could be a bit arrogant, but, if that's a motive for murder, a lot of local businesses would be missing their CEOs. And Charlie is the kindest, most even-tempered man I know. I refuse to believe that he's hurt anyone, even for a better reason than a nasty argument over a golf game.”

  “Well, some of the board has just been informed that someone was embezzling funds from CURE; Joe discovered it when he went in to deposit the tournament proceeds and realized that the balance didn't match what it should have been.” Robert frowned, thinking about the trouble ahead for the foundation.

  “What does that have to do with Oliver or Charlie, though?” Nancy asked.

  “No one had access to the account except board members, so it pretty much has to have been an inside job. Oliver was the treasurer, so it would be pretty simple for him to skim now and then. And if Charlie found out and confronted him—”

  “But why? He had plenty of money of his own, and he was getting a lot more in grants on top of the CURE money. Why would he need to steal?”

  “Rumor has it that Oliver liked to gamble—liked it a lot. I don't know if that's true but gambling debts don’t just go away.” Robert lifted the last bite of rich chocolate into his mouth and licked the corners of his lips. “I guess it will come out during the investigation of the embezzlement and the murder, if we're lucky. I'm not looking forward to the next few weeks.”

  Patty looked at Ashley with a raised eyebrow, but said nothing as they washed the dishes from the earlier courses. Back at the kitchen, they discussed what they had learned. “So, Oliver might have been stealing money from CURE,” Patty mused.

  “If that's true, there must have been a reason. If he really was gambling and losing a lot, maybe he owed someone like a loan shark and didn't pay up fast enough. Maybe that's who killed him.” Ashley thought for a few seconds and then continued, “Somehow, that doesn't really feel right. I think I'll try to peek into CURE's financials and Oliver's personal records to see what I can find out.”

  Patty nodded. “I’m going to assume that by ‘peek’ you mean something totally legal and above board. Otherwise, I didn’t hear anything.” She held Ashley’s gaze for a few seconds. “While you’re at it, you ought to “peek” on the finances for the lab, too, to see if anything's missing there. You know, work is everything to some people.”

  Ashley looked closely at her friend, wondering what she meant by that last statement, if it was some kind of veiled hint. More than ever, she felt sure that Patty didn't approve of her sleuthing, that she thought that Ashley wasn't working hard enough at her baking business, not pulling her weight in their shared business. That had to be the reason that Patty seemed to be pulling away from their friendship, didn't it? What else could it be?

  They put away the last of the supplies and said good-night, both ready to finish what had been a long and busy day.

  Too tired for anything but her bed, when Ashley got home, she texted Ryan. “2 tired 2 talk 2nite; much to tell—CU tmrw.” Snuggling into her pillow, she told her dog, “No early wake-ups, Dizzy girl; we'll have a little lie-in tomorrow, okay? You can have an extra treat for brunch instead of an early breakfast.” Without waiting for an answer, she crashed into dreamland.


  CHAPTER 8

  She had just walked outside with Dizzy the next morning when Ryan pulled into the drive. “Hey, Ryan. “Come walking with us, and we can talk.”

  The excited dog danced around Ryan's feet as he got out of the car. “Hey, girl! Have you missed me?” Ryan laughed at her antics as she stood on her hind legs and then bounced back down to twirl and hop in a frenetic dance, yelping excitedly until he reached down to scratch her head.

  They walked along silently while Dizzy tugged on her leash to explore every tree, bush and blade of grass. along the way. After a few minutes, Ashley raised the subject.

  “Ryan, what's going on with Charlie?”

  “He's been released, for now. There was no evidence on his clubs or his clothes; his attorney says that there is no way someone hit Green that hard without getting blood spatter on himself. I don't know how long it will last, though. I don't think the detectives are convinced yet that he's not the killer. They keep questioning him again and again, and it doesn't seem like they are even looking for other suspects.” He started to say more, but then closed his mouth into a tight line. Ashley was pretty sure of what he had been about to say, but she waited him out, letting the silence build until he broke it.

  “Ash, there are so many holes in his story. I know he's innocent, but even I can see the gaps. According to Sean Frazier, one of the deputies, Charlie can't explain why he quit playing early or where he went between then and when he got back to the clubhouse. They think he could have changed clothes before he went back to the clubhouse; no one has been able to remember what he was wearing earlier. Apparently several people at the bar heard him say he wanted to kill Oliver. And you heard what he said to the deputies, that definitely didn't help anything. They don't seem to have any other leads, either.” Ryan looked so defeated that Ashley's heart hurt for him.

  “I saw him before he went to play; he was wearing the same clothes when he got back. I'll give Sheriff Mueller a call and tell him that.”