Read Online Irregulars: Stories by Nicole Kimberling, Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale and Astrid Amara by Josh Lanyon, Ginn Hale, Astrid Amara, Nicole Kimberling - Free Book Online Page B
Tags: Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Gay, Fantasy, Gay & Lesbian, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Genre Fiction, Paranormal & Urban
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he would have assumed in this guy’s position. He said, “Do you read the newspaper?”
Baratunde’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sometimes. I’m more of a talk radio man, though.”
“Have you heard anything about the Cannibal Killer?”
The chef’s face paled to the color of ash. He swallowed and said, “Some.”
“Inside that walk-in, lying in stainless hotel pans that you probably use every day, are the butchered remains of at least three people,” Keith said. “You can see how I want to know more about this catering company that shares your kitchen, right?”
The chef did not immediately answer. Keith wondered briefly if he had misjudged Baratunde. Maybe he truly had been complicit. Then, with no warning, the man lunged sideways and puked loudly into the trash can. The uniform didn’t look very much more well, but he, at least, hadn’t been eating off the same dishes used to process human protein. Keith waited while the chef splashed his face with water and stood, leaning on the hand sink, breathing deeply. Finally, he said, “Sometimes the caterers have leftovers that they leave in our refrigerator for the staff to eat.”
The cause of Baratunde’s abrupt illness became sharply clear. “And?”
“This morning they left some posole in our walk-in. I—for lunch—” Tears rimmed the chef’s eyes. Whether they were the result of impending further illness or horrifying remorse, Keith could not say.
“Is there any left?”
Baratunde nodded. “Ms. Bullock and I were the only ones who ate any. Nobody else wanted hominy. She kept talking about how back in the day the dish was made with human flesh.”
“You better show me. We’ll need to test it.”
“I just need a second.” He leaned far over the sink, jaw working, plainly fighting the urge to vomit again.
Keith said, “Take your time.”
It only took Baratunde a few deep breaths to recover before he was able to lead Keith into the main walk-in, a long, narrow space. It was supremely clean and well organized. The chef plainly took pride in his profession.
“This is it.” He handed Keith a long insert of quasi-congealed stew, taking obvious care not to touch the contents.
Gunther ducked into the walk-in. “We’ve got the dining room cleared.”
“Thanks.” Keith glanced at him and then at the chef, whose eyes were still glassy. The big man’s hands shook slightly. Keith remained placid while he removed a small vial from his pocket. He pulled a piece of flesh from the stew and squeezed a couple of drops of tincture onto it. The tincture shone blue. He looked at the chef and said, “It’s pork. We should keep it anyway. The container might have prints we can use.”
The relief that swept across Baratunde’s face was that of a condemned man released at the last minute.
“Thank the Lord.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d go and see how your crew is doing.”
“Yes, sir.” He went, smiling.
The second the door closed, Keith crumpled the meat in a napkin, whispering, “I’m sorry—whoever you were.”
Gunther drew closer. “I thought blue meant human.”
Keith nodded. “The chef doesn’t need to know that though. He doesn’t need to have that knowledge on him for the rest of his life—that he’s a cannibal. It’s bad enough that he’s going to lose his job when this joint shuts down. Working here isn’t going to be a resume builder, either. We’ll still send it to the lab—just for documentation. And prints, like I said.”
Gunther said, “Do you need a minute?”
“No, let’s just go get this over with.”
Chapter Six
Interviews at Bauer & Bullock went quickly. Few staff knew much about Forbidden Pleasures. Keith called it quits around nine, when his jaw started hurting him too much to pay attention to their uninformative answers. He decided to save Bullock’s interview for the morning, when he was less tired and after she’d spent the night in jail.
Once they reached the hotel, Gunther went to
Baratunde’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sometimes. I’m more of a talk radio man, though.”
“Have you heard anything about the Cannibal Killer?”
The chef’s face paled to the color of ash. He swallowed and said, “Some.”
“Inside that walk-in, lying in stainless hotel pans that you probably use every day, are the butchered remains of at least three people,” Keith said. “You can see how I want to know more about this catering company that shares your kitchen, right?”
The chef did not immediately answer. Keith wondered briefly if he had misjudged Baratunde. Maybe he truly had been complicit. Then, with no warning, the man lunged sideways and puked loudly into the trash can. The uniform didn’t look very much more well, but he, at least, hadn’t been eating off the same dishes used to process human protein. Keith waited while the chef splashed his face with water and stood, leaning on the hand sink, breathing deeply. Finally, he said, “Sometimes the caterers have leftovers that they leave in our refrigerator for the staff to eat.”
The cause of Baratunde’s abrupt illness became sharply clear. “And?”
“This morning they left some posole in our walk-in. I—for lunch—” Tears rimmed the chef’s eyes. Whether they were the result of impending further illness or horrifying remorse, Keith could not say.
“Is there any left?”
Baratunde nodded. “Ms. Bullock and I were the only ones who ate any. Nobody else wanted hominy. She kept talking about how back in the day the dish was made with human flesh.”
“You better show me. We’ll need to test it.”
“I just need a second.” He leaned far over the sink, jaw working, plainly fighting the urge to vomit again.
Keith said, “Take your time.”
It only took Baratunde a few deep breaths to recover before he was able to lead Keith into the main walk-in, a long, narrow space. It was supremely clean and well organized. The chef plainly took pride in his profession.
“This is it.” He handed Keith a long insert of quasi-congealed stew, taking obvious care not to touch the contents.
Gunther ducked into the walk-in. “We’ve got the dining room cleared.”
“Thanks.” Keith glanced at him and then at the chef, whose eyes were still glassy. The big man’s hands shook slightly. Keith remained placid while he removed a small vial from his pocket. He pulled a piece of flesh from the stew and squeezed a couple of drops of tincture onto it. The tincture shone blue. He looked at the chef and said, “It’s pork. We should keep it anyway. The container might have prints we can use.”
The relief that swept across Baratunde’s face was that of a condemned man released at the last minute.
“Thank the Lord.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d go and see how your crew is doing.”
“Yes, sir.” He went, smiling.
The second the door closed, Keith crumpled the meat in a napkin, whispering, “I’m sorry—whoever you were.”
Gunther drew closer. “I thought blue meant human.”
Keith nodded. “The chef doesn’t need to know that though. He doesn’t need to have that knowledge on him for the rest of his life—that he’s a cannibal. It’s bad enough that he’s going to lose his job when this joint shuts down. Working here isn’t going to be a resume builder, either. We’ll still send it to the lab—just for documentation. And prints, like I said.”
Gunther said, “Do you need a minute?”
“No, let’s just go get this over with.”
Chapter Six
Interviews at Bauer & Bullock went quickly. Few staff knew much about Forbidden Pleasures. Keith called it quits around nine, when his jaw started hurting him too much to pay attention to their uninformative answers. He decided to save Bullock’s interview for the morning, when he was less tired and after she’d spent the night in jail.
Once they reached the hotel, Gunther went to
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