Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) by Monique Domovitch Page B

the call went straight to voice mail. I thought it better to speak directly to him rather than leave him a message.”
    “Oh.” I wasn’t convinced she’d even tried. I’d seen that guilty look on her face.
    “But I promise I’ll try again later. Why don’t you look in the bag?”
    I stared at it, famished. “What did you bring me?”
    “Ah, so you’re hungry. Well, that’s a good sign.”
    “I’m not sick, Toni. I broke an ankle. Besides when have you ever seen me not be hungry?”
    “You’ve been doing a good job of sticking to your diet.”
    Ha , little did she know.
    She opened the bag, pulled out a plastic container and tore off the cover. She handed it to me along with a knife and fork, and the delicious aroma of tomato sauce and garlic filled the air.
    My salivary glands went into instant overdrive. “It smells divine.”
    “You’re going to love it—another one of Charles’s wonderful creations, chicken Parmesan and only two hundred and ninety calories per serving.”
    She tucked a napkin under my chin, bib style, and I dug in. “Heavens, this is so good.” I took another bite. “Did you call the editor at The Toronto Daily? ”
    “I told you I would. And it’s all set up. As it turns out, she’s decided to hold the article back a couple of weeks. That’ll give us time to come up with a few good recipes, and then we can start the column at the same time the article comes out. Anyhow, that was her suggestion.”
    “Great idea,” I said through another mouthful. “In a few weeks the rush from the TV interview might have slowed down. We’ll probably need another plug by then. How are the dogs?”
    “They’re fine. I stayed overnight and then on my way here from the restaurant I stopped by again. I let Jackie out back, filled the bowls and changed the wee-wee pads.” She wrinkled her nose. “Boy, they sure poop a lot for such tiny little things.”
    “Dogs do poop, you know, which is why you have to take them out regularly. Are you sure you’re ready to commit to the responsibility of a dog? You’d have to take Trouble out at least three times a day. You’d better let me know now if I have to start looking for another home for him.”
    She put up her hand, swearing on an invisible Bible. “I promise Trouble is coming home with me, and I will take excellent care of him.”
    “Good, I don’t know what I would do if you suddenly announced you’d changed your mind. I can handle Jackie and one pup, but no more.” After falling in love with all three newborn puppies, I’d decided to keep one, the little female I’d already named Sugar. I just knew she’d wear her name well. I gestured toward my ankle. “You’d be a real friend if you took him as soon as possible.” I returned to my meal, expecting her to put up some objection.
    She quietly watched me eat for a few minutes, looking preoccupied. She cleared her throat. “Are you ready for the bad news?”
    I looked up at her and put down my fork. “Give it to me.”
    Her mouth tightened. “It turns out that Jake hasn’t been entirely forthcoming. He’s been keeping a secret from us.”
    What was she talking about—cooking the books, embezzling? I dismissed each thought just as quickly as it popped into my mind. I couldn’t imagine Jake doing anything illegal. “Keeping what exactly?”
    She gave me a concerned look. “I don’t want you to get excited now.”
    “Toni! When somebody tells me to not get excited, it only makes me worry more. Cut to the chase, will you.”
    “It turns out he got a phone call from some woman during our television interview.” She stared at me, watching for my reaction.
    I shrugged. “So?”
    “He said she sounded hysterical, screaming something about us stealing what was rightfully hers, and she was going to see us all dead.”
    I gaped at her. “Why didn’t he tell us earlier?”
    “Don’t be upset with him. I would have done the same thing. We’d just given a great interview.