Killer Gourmet by G.A. McKevett Page A

understand why he and his wife would choose to operate this stand by themselves. There was hardly room inside for more than two workers anyway. But why would Carlos be working as someone else’s prep cook? Why subject yourself to a nasty boss like Norwood when you owned a successful eatery?
    A taco stand might not be the pinnacle of the restaurant business, but it certainly seemed like a profitable establishment. Every day a lot of delicious food crossed that service counter and fed a lot of hungry, grateful people.
    That sounded like success to Savannah.
    â€œIf you don’t mind me asking,” Savannah said, “how long have you two owned this place?”
    â€œIt belonged to Carlos’s father and mother. When his father died seven years ago, his mother retired and turned it over to Carlos. I’ve been working here with him for two years.”
    â€œAnd how long had Carlos been part of Chef Norwood’s team?”
    A dark look crossed Maria’s face. Savannah was fairly sure that she detected a look of strong dislike when she heard the chef’s name mentioned.
    â€œAlmost a year,” she answered. “A long year.”
    Savannah nodded. “I saw Norwood in action, screaming at his staff, throwing things, pitching a major hissy fit. It must’ve been really hard working for a guy like that.”
    Maria nodded and wiped her face again with the damp towel. Her eyes were no longer friendly, and Savannah got the idea that she was growing progressively uneasy with this topic of conversation.
    â€œIt was difficult. Very difficult,” she replied softly.
    â€œThen why did he continue to work for someone as abusive as Norwood? Holding down two jobs would have been exhausting even with a decent boss, let alone a guy like that.”
    â€œMy husband is a hard worker. He always has been. It’s one of the things I love and respect about him most.” She waved a hand, indicating the shabby stand. “Do you think he wants to work here forever? To make tacos and burritos until he dies? No. My Carlos has dreams of being a chef, a real chef, a fine chef.”
    â€œAnd that was why he was working for Norwood?”
    â€œYes. Why else? He knew he had to start at the bottom and work up. He began by washing dishes. Then he moved up to kitchen steward and now prep chef. He has to learn how to run a restaurant. A fine restaurant, worthy of his talents. Not just a fast-food stand.”
    Savannah was surprised to see the young woman’s eyes fill with tears.
    â€œBut as soon as he started working for the chef, Carlos realized that he wouldn’t be learning anything from that man. Baldwin Norwood had nothing to teach anyone about cooking or anything else in life.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?” Savannah asked, trying to get her mind around this new accusation. No one had made any bones about the fact that Chef Norwood was a jerk, but this was the first time she had heard that he couldn’t cook.
    â€œI’m saying that the famous celebrity chef, Baldwin Norwood, couldn’t prepare a decent meal if his life depended on it. He’s a fraud.”
    Maria paused and swallowed hard. Savannah noticed that her hands were shaking as she twisted the towel. “Or should I say he was a fraud. I guess now he’s a dead fraud.”
    â€œWell, I don’t know about the ‘fraud’ part, but he certainly is dead. I don’t know how much Carlos told you, but it was a terribly violent murder.”
    Maria nodded and began to tremble all over. “Yes, he told me it was awful. I’m sorry it happened.”
    Savannah’s right eyebrow lifted a notch. “You’re sorry? Why would you be sorry?”
    Maria stared down at the towel in her hands, then across the street toward the park where her husband was walking with Dirk. “I just mean—even someone as bad as Norwood doesn’t deserve to die like that.”
    â€œWho do you