Prime Cut

none of that inheriting of land may actually ever take place.” He finished wrapping the cord and frowned knowingly. “Leah’s negotiating to sell the whole seven hundred acres, including the cabin, to the paint pellet people. Know ’em? Guys who wear camo gear and spend the day hunting for their friends so they can shoot pellets of red paint at ’em?” “Good Lord,” I said.

“She wants to split the proceeds of the sale with Bobby. It was Bobby who thought they’d get more for the cabin if they put a row of windows in the kitchen, so’s the cabin could appear to be modern. Ian will have to move, and he’s not too happy about that. So they fight about the sale. All the time. And I get to listen.”

“Uh-huh.” I hesitated. “Did you get along with Gerald Eliot? I mean, was he nice to you even though you hadn’t worked together for five years?”

He shrugged. “He was okay. But you know I wasn’t tight with him anymore. When I got back from Phoenix, he and Leah and Ian were always yakking. I thought they were talking about the windows, except I could never find any plans, you know? I figured maybe Bobby had ’em.” He paused and stroked his uneven beard. “Y’know, I think even old Hanna got jealous or suspicious of their yakkety-yak. So she got this private sort of joke going with Gerald. I don’t think he thought it was too funny, after the first few times.”

“Joke? Hanna?” I suddenly recalled her saying that she had tried to joke with Gerald.

“Yeah, something about cooking the way they used to in the Old West, you know?” From the great room, Ian hollered for Rufus. He gave me a pained look. “I gotta go-”

“Please, wait. What about cooking in the Old. West? Please tell me, it’s really important.”

He sighed. “I don’t know how it got started. Gerald asked Hanna about her work at the museum, and if she knew how to make rolls using an old-fashioned cookbook.”

“What cookbook?” I asked breathlessly. Make the rolls the way I taught you, in Charlie Smythe’s handwriting, loomed in my mind’s eye.

“I dunno,” Rufus replied. “Hanna asked why did Gerald want to know, was he going to start doing some baking? Bring us rolls along with his glue gun in the morning? And then Gerald told her just to forget about it. But Hanna kept after him, kept saying, ‘Where’re our rolls, Gerald?’ and he’d say, ‘Just shut up, Hanna!’ until finally Ian yelled at the two of them to quit it. And then Gerald started up with Rustine, and Leah axed him.” Loud footsteps shook the walls. “Look, I really gotta go”

“If Gerald and Ian and Leah were such great friends, why would Leah fire Gerald for having an affair with one of the models?”

He opened the door. “Look, Goldy, I’m looking for another job right now. If I knew why these people around here act the way they do, I wouldn’t be fixing to leave, would I? Now, you gonna let me go, or you gonna wait till Ian comes stomping in here, having a fit?”

Confused, I hurried out after him. Tapping her foot at the kitchen door, Leah asked if lunch was ready. She resembled a hothouse poppy in her orange T-shirt, green pants, and orange-and-green sandals. Her streaked pixie looked wild and uncombed. She clutched a thick manila file from which bits of paper poked out.

“Nice outfit,” I observed.

“The Mimaya has failed again,” she announced petulantly. I decided that the Mimaya must be a camera, not a piece of lingerie. “Rufus will take it down to Denver for repair, but we’re done shooting for today. In all likelihood, there won’t be shooting tomorrow, either. So, can you serve lunch now?”

“It’s ready.” I kept my voice cheery.

“You still want to talk to Ian?”

“Sure. If that’s okay.”

“He doesn’t have much time.”

With failed equipment about to be hustled to Denver by a kind man everyone treated like a drone, and work canceled for the next day, what was pressing in on Ian’s time? I couldn’t imagine, but I smiled anyway. “This won’t take long.”

“Here are Andre’s bills and menus, since you said you needed them to plan the food.” She thrust the overstuffed file at me.

“He gave it to you like this?”

She sniffed. “I don’t remember.” She turned on her sandaled heel and departed.

I waited for everyone to go through the food line. Hanna methodically consumed a small plate of chicken and strawberry salad. Rustine, Yvonne, Rufus, Ian, Leah, the per diem contractors … Since Leah had told me fifteen people, and we’d brought enough for twenty, that should be plenty of food, right?

Wrong. At first I thought something was wrong with Rustine’s and Yvonne’s food, the two models kept going back to the platters so many times. Tried this, and didn’t like it? Tried that, and still weren’t pleased? But no: they were bingeing. After four trips to the buffet, Yvonne could have beat any bear foraging for hibernation.

I sidled over to where Ian sat alone nursing a cup of coffee and smoking a cigar, his back to the mountains. Every now and then he turned his shoulder to send a stream of smoke over the creek.

“Hi there,” I said happily, instead of asking: If you really care about the environment, what’s that thing in your mouth? “Can we talk?”

He glanced behind me to see if anyone was watching. Suddenly paranoid, I looked around myself. Leah, Rustine, Yvonne, Bobby, and the day-contractors were still on the deck, but no one appeared interested in us. Ian inhaled, bobbed his chin, and exhaled out of the side of his mouth. “Heard you need something from me.” He dabbed at his gray moustache. “Is there a problem?”

“Ah, no.” I sat down. Was Ian acting defensive, or was it my imagination? “Well, actually, yes. It’s about who’s doing the catering for the Soiree.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” he snorted. “What do I look like, Court TV? You catered it last year.”

“Just give me five minutes,” I promised. “Maybe less. If you knew monkey business was going on, monkey business that might get into the paper, say, wouldn’t you want to prevent it?”

He took his cigar out of his mouth to sip his coffee. “I’ve got competitors in Phoenix and Miami and New York who are breathing down my neck. I’ve got real estate development all through the mountain area threatening wildlife migration that I’ve tried to protect for over a decade.” He squinted at me. “And you’re dangling bad press in front of me? Am I going to be sorry I let you come here today? Your food isn’t that good, if you want to know the truth. The chicken has too much red pepper and the rice tastes like dirt.”

I stared at his barely touched plate. “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the meal,” I said softly, while thinking, If you’d lay off the stinky cigars, your taste buds would work. “I’m not going to the newspaper. But catering is my livelihood, even if today’s meal isn’t to your liking. Listen, Craig Litchfield is doing free parties for two of the three women judging the tasting party, in exchange for their vote.”

“And you’re sure of this.”

“He offered to do a free party for Leah, until she told him she wasn’t voting.” I steeled myself. “Weezie Harrington and Edna Hardcastle both canceled me out of catering their parties after Litchfield said he could do them at no charge, I firmly believe.”

“But it’s not as if you weren’t trying to bribe them. It’s just that the damn price was different. Right?”

I took a deep breath. What did Leah see in this person? What had it been like for Andre to work for him? “I wasn’t—”

Ian stubbed out his cigar and again glanced along the deck. “Listen, I’d do anything to try to save the elk in this state.”

“I realize that—”

He stood up. “Don’t drag me into your stupid squabble over who caters the damn fund-raiser. The other guy won the booking. Live with it.” He grinned. “Suck it up, caterer.” And with that he strode off the deck.

Wow, was that fun, I thought sourly.

Julian and Boyd had cleared the plates and were working inside. I picked up the mostly empty platters. A mass of red pepper flakes speckling the coq au vin sauce gave me pause. A closer inspection showed the flakes