“What?” Ivy frowned, then when the bell rang again, she said, “Oh, sure.” Jumping to her feet, she darted into the hall, calling over her shoulder, “Maybe it’s Uncle Spence. He said he’d try to stop by this afternoon or evening.”
Dani had just popped the completed trays in the oven when a sour-looking middle-age man entered the kitchen with Ivy hard on his heels.
“Sir.” Ivy tried to grab his arm, but he flicked off her hand as if it were a piece of lint. Her face reddened and she said, “I asked you to wait in the parlor. No one is allowed back here.”
The man’s unblinking, cold, gray eyes skimmed the messy counter, and his lips pressed together in a disapproving, thin, white line.
“Ivy, get back.” Dani hastily snatched a rolling pin from the counter, moved around the island to block the intruder’s path, and said, “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Danielle Sloan?” the man barked, seemingly unimpressed with her weapon.
“Yes.” Dani wasn’t sure why she answered instead of smacking him upside the head. “If you’re here on business, please call for an appointment.”
The guy grunted and pointed to the seated girls. “Tippi Epstein and Starr Fleming.” When they nodded, he turned toward Ivy and said, “Ivy Drake I presume?”
He skirted around Dani and headed to the table, walking as if each step was preordained and nothing short of Armageddon would stop him from reaching his intended goal. With his emaciated torso, jerky movements, and cruel expression, the man resembled a Halloween skeleton. Was he some mentally ill homeless guy who had wandered up to the house by accident? But he was awfully clean and dressed really nice for someone living on the streets. And if he were here by chance, how did he know their names?
“You need to get out of here right now or I’ll call the police.” Dani motioned with her chin to Tippi and Starr, signaling them to keep their distance from the man. He was starting to frighten her. She gestured to the back door. “Leave.”
The man ignored Dani and pinned Tippi and Starr with his gaze. “You two stay put.”
Alarmed, Dani glanced back at Ivy. She seemed frozen, and Dani said sharply, “Call 911.”
As Ivy frantically patted her pockets looking for her cell phone, the man declared, “You were all at the Bourne party yesterday.”
When he scowled, for just a half second, his features seemed familiar, but Dani couldn’t place him. Had she met this guy before?
When no one responded, a sneer twisted his gaunt features, and he enunciated each word, “You. Were. All. At. The. Bourne. Party. Yesterday. Correct?”
“Yes.” What in the world did this creep want? To cover her panic, Dani put on her best don’t-mess-with-me expression, the one she’d perfected working in HR, and asked, “What’s it to you?”
“I’m Detective Mikeloff.”
That would explain the suit and tie, but not his bad attitude.
“May I see some identification, please?” Dani asked, not sure she believed him.
Mikeloff reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved a shiny leather wallet. He flipped it open, displaying a police ID card on one side and a gold badge on the other.
Ivy stopped searching for her phone and peered over the man’s shoulder. She gazed at the identification, then shot a worried glance at Dani. What had they done to merit a visit from Normalton’s finest? Were they in some kind of trouble?
“Satisfied?” Detective Mikeloff said, a challenge in his voice. When Dani nodded, he closed the leather folder, returned it to his pocket, and stated, “I understand your company”—he pulled out a notebook and consulted it—“Chef-to-Go, catered Regina Bourne’s party on Saturday.”
“That’s correct,” Dani answered carefully. Had Regina accused them of something?
“How well do you know Ms. Bourne?”
“Not very.” Dani shrugged. “I met her for the first time when she hired me. Why?”
Detective Mikeloff ignored Dani’s question. “But you did work with her closely this past week? And had several arguments with her?”
“Regina had some requests that weren’t possible to fulfill on such short notice.” Dani’s stomach clenched. Had one of the guests got caught drinking underage? Knowing Regina, she’d point the finger at Dani’s Jell-O shots. “Why are you asking me about her? Did something happen after we left her party?”
“What would make you think that?” Detective Mikeloff’s tone implied that Dani was guilty of something. “Do you have a reason to think there would be a problem?”
“Well.” Dani figured he already knew about the fire. No doubt someone who had been at the luau had been happy to tell Detective Mikeloff all about the incident. “There was an accident with the tiki torches earlier.”
“At which time”—he consulted his notepad—“you saved the day using a fire extinguisher that you just happened to have handy.” Mikeloff looked like a malevolent raven, particularly when he tipped his head and narrowed his beady eyes. “But Miss Bourne wasn’t as grateful as you expected, was she?”
“Are you implying that I somehow conspired with the young man who tripped?” Dani’s head had begun to pound. “Why would I do that?”
“Perhaps to look like everyone’s savior?” Mikeloff’s expression reminded Dani of the Big Bad Wolf after he ate Red Riding Hood’s grandmother. “It had to be infuriating that instead of fawning over you, Miss Bourne demanded you produce another round of desserts.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Dani smoothed her apron, wishing she was dressed for her previous job rather than her current one. Although she hadn’t enjoyed wearing them every day, there was just something about a suit and heels that commanded respect. “I would never endanger people’s lives like that. And it’s absolutely normal protocol for caterers to carry a fire extinguisher when open flames are
