Read Online Killer Gourmet by G.A. McKevett - Free Book Online Page A

good cook but not such a strong leader? Something like that.
    Suddenly, it occurred to Savannah that Francia might have harbored a great deal of resentment toward her boss. More than just the common dislike that others might feel toward him. And who could blame her?
    From what Savannah had observed, he wasn’t exactly a sweetie pie who endeared himself to others. How many people had to have a deadly weapon snatched from their hand on their first night on a new job?
    â€œHow long had you known Chef Norwood?” Savannah asked.
    â€œSeven years. It would have been eight years this next September twenty-fourth.”
    Savannah did a quick mental listing of those nearest and dearest to her heart. For the life of her, she wouldn’t have been able to name the exact date when she had met them for the first time.
    â€œThere’s something special about that day?” she asked. “Some reason why you would remember it so well?”
    â€œOf course it was a special day. I’ll remember it until I die. It was the day I won Capocuoca Extraordinaire.”
    When Savannah gave her a blank look, she added, “A chef’s competition in Venice once a year. The grand prize is an apprenticeship with a master chef.”
    Tears flooded Francia’s eyes. She quickly blinked them away, but more took their place. “That was the happiest day of my life. I felt like I’d won a huge lottery. No, better than a lottery jackpot. Finally, I could fulfill my destiny. I was on my way to accomplishing my dreams. I was so full of hope.”
    She took a used napkin from the table, held it to her face, and cried into it.
    Savannah reached over and placed a hand on her shoulder. “There, there, darlin’,” she said. “You just had an awful shock. A few tears are to be expected.”
    Finally, Francia composed herself, wiped her tears, and blew her nose on the napkin. She rumpled it and tossed it back onto the table. Suddenly, the pain and vulnerability disappeared from her face, to be replaced with anger and bitterness.
    â€œBut it is what it is,” she said, her jaw tight, her eyes cold. “Nothing in life ever turns out the way you think it’s going to. For every dream you have, there are ten assholes out there ready to stomp on it, to grind it into the dirt.”
    Savannah gulped, thinking that even on a bad day, even when half a box of chocolate truffles wouldn’t lift her mood from the doldrums, she wouldn’t have uttered a comment as caustic as that.
    â€œSometimes,” Francia continued, “it doesn’t even take ten of them. One can do it. One can ruin your life, destroy your hopes, turn you into somebody you don’t even recognize anymore.”
    Shooting Savannah a quick, cautious look, the sous-chef reached for her wineglass and drained the last drop from it. Suddenly she looked uneasy, as if afraid she had said too much.
    And she certainly had.
    â€œHe was that bad, was he?” Savannah said in her most sympathetic, big sister voice.
    Francia shrugged, trying to look casual, but it was too late. “Yeah, he was that bad. Ask anybody here who worked with him. Ask any of his so-called friends who were here tonight. He thinks they came to support him, but they didn’t. They were here because they were hoping to see him fall on his face, once and for all.”
    â€œWho were they, these people you’re talking about?”
    â€œI don’t know for sure, because I was in the back the whole time, but I took a look at the reservation list when I first got here. And there were several of ‘his’ people.”
    â€œLike whom?”
    â€œHis ex-girlfriend, who hates his guts now. His former business partner, who’s suing him, by the way. His current girlfriend, who must’ve figured out by now what a pig he is.”
    Savannah couldn’t help brightening a bit. Maybe she wasn’t at square one with zero possibilities.