“Hullo dahling Natalie, I’m Dr Rosemary Thicke, one of the previous principals here at St Margaret. I couldn’t help overhearing your question to your boon companion there.”
“Hello Dr. Thicke, nice to meet you. I’d love to stay for a chat, but I’m in a rush to catch our sous-chef before she leaves. I don’t suppose you have any experience with her, do you?”
“Ah yes, Claudia. I’ve dealt with my fair share of difficult individuals, and she fits into that category. She seems nice to those she likes, but for everyone else, her eyes shoot daggers.”
If Claudia is volatile enough to commit a murder, I need to tread lightly. I don’t want to set her off, merely get a few pieces of information I can use to convince the police to take me seriously. I turn my eyes up to the portrait and ask for help. “You must have plenty of opportunities to observe Claudia, Dr Thicke. What approach would you advise?”
“Hmmm, let me think for a moment.” Dr Thicke sips her tea as she mulls over options. “Yes, yes, that might work. As you can see, I’ve watched over many a high table dinner from my esteemed position here in the hall. Whilst our Chef Smythe was the genius behind most of the menu, there was one area she always delegated off to her sous chef - the appetiser course. That was Claudia’s space alone to showcase her talents. Compliment her on her beetroot foam from last week and she’ll wax on for much longer than you’ll want. Hopefully, you can flatter her right into whatever you need.”
“Beetroot foam? I heard something about that. Perfect, I’ll start there and then segue straight to begging her to stay on to cater the gala. Got it. Thanks so much for your help, Dr Thicke. I’d better run if I hope to catch Claudia.”
“Anytime, dahling. Next time bring a cuppa along and I’ll tell you about some of my own adventures.”
“I’d love that.” I wave goodbye before turning towards the kitchen.
❖
Before going into the kitchen, I glance over my shoulder to confirm H is in position. I spot his wings between the chair legs, sitting comfortably under a table, shoving a handful of crumbs in his mouth. He gives me a salute, waving me on my way. Deep breath and in I go.
“Hello? Is anyone still here?” Bingo. Assuming she was the woman in the chef’s hat, Claudia seems to be the last person left in the kitchen. I’ve caught her as she gives the cooking area a final wipe down. Her white chef hat lies abandoned on a corner desk, her chef’s coat unbuttoned and stained. Unfortunately, she seems much less pleased to see me than I am to find her.
Her voice crackles with a harsh growl. “I don’t know who you are, but I’ve had about enough of the lookie-loos coming into my kitchen today. I’ve only got a few hours before I have to be back here for dinner, and I don’t intend to use them playing tour guide to a crime scene.”
I shiver at the reminder. “Thanks, but I had enough of a look the other morning with Dr Radcliffe. If you’re Claudia, it’s actually you I’m hoping to track down.”
“Natalie Payne?”
“The one and only.” I hold out a hand as I introduce myself. Her grip is strong, palm callused. And damp. That’s what I get for interrupting a sponge down. She gives me an apologetic smile as she wipes her hands on her coat and smoothes her dark hair back into her ponytail.
Peppy smile in place, I turn on the charm. “I’ve heard so many absolutely amazing things about your cooking, I didn’t want to miss the chance to meet you before you go.”
Claudia raises one eyebrow. “Somehow I doubt that. The only chef who got any praise here was Chef Smythe. She made sure of that.”
I paint on a confused look. Two can play the eyebrow game. “Oh, are you not the genius behind last week’s English beetroot foam with a parmesan crisp? My assistants have been raving about it since they heard about your departure.”
Claudia’s face lights up, the switch from scowl to smile happening in an instant. I’m in.
“Yes, that was mine. I didn’t think anyone noticed. It took me weeks to perfect the consistency of the puree. Chef Smythe tried to copy it, but every attempt she made came out runny. She never understood the chemistry behind the molecular gastronomy of my appetisers. More precise than some equations that come out of the science labs.”
I nod my head, “I’ve always thought appetisers are the most under-appreciated course. I mean, anyone can roast a leg of lamb and serve it with a side of mash. It takes a true genius to meld together unique flavours without making something that immediately fills you up.”
“Exactly! Exactly as I’ve always said. Why didn’t you start here a few months ago, Natalie?”
I’ve got her talking, now to move the conversation in the gala's direction. “So, it’s true, you’re really leaving St Margaret? I mean, now that Chef Smythe is out of the way, surely you have a good chance of landing the top spot permanently.”
Turning, Claudia launches the sponge into the sink where it lands with a splash. “Ha! You’d think so, but even from the grave that old hag is keeping me hidden in the shadows. I’m sure Dr Radcliffe won’t even consider me. It doesn’t matter though; I can barely stand to be in this room.”
Hmm, I wonder whether it is fear or guilt making her want to leave. I try a new angle. “You must have really hated the chef. I’ve only been here two days and I’ve yet to hear anything nice about her. Working with her must have been sheer misery.”
With a sharp chuckle, Claudia walks over to the desk, her response muffled by
