Read Online Too Many Cooks by Joanne Pence - Free Book Online

your family for years.”
    â€œOh?” Angie knew she couldn’t hide her shock as she glanced at Chick. Terry hadn’t mentioned anything about her father’s having a long-time lady friend. In fact, the way Chick hung around Flo, his ex-wife, they had assumed Chick was still carrying a torch for her. “I didn’t know that,” Angie said.
    â€œWell.” Chick looked uncomfortable. “Time to go say hello to the competition. Looks like most of them turned out tonight, the snakes.”
    â€œI think everyone’s curious about what happened to Karl,” Angie said.
    â€œI’d love to get my hands on his recipes. They’re a food editor’s dream: the menu that made Wielund’s famous,” Janet added.
    â€œFunny, ain’t it?” Chick said. “The way Wielund’s was packing in the customers, most of the people here probably wished old Karl was dead when he was alive. Now they’re all pretending to cry over hisdeath, when all they want to know is what’s going to happen to his restaurant and his notes about cooking.”
    â€œDo you think that’s all it is?” Angie asked.
    Chick stared at Angie as if she were crazy. “The guy was a first-rate son of a bitch. These people are here for show, Angie. Never forget it. So long, cara .” He hugged her, then turned to Paavo and shook hands. “Good to meet you, son.” He took Janet Knight’s arm and walked into the crowd.
    Angie leaned against Paavo’s arm. “That was one owner. As for others, over there in the purple dress with the white feathers is Eunice Graves. She owns Europa, an elegant continental cuisine restaurant. She’s about as elegant as Roseanne Barr.”
    Paavo glanced at Angie in surprise. She shrugged.
    â€œOver on the far side, the guy in the blue suit with the white carnation—”
    â€œGray hair?”
    â€œRight. That’s Albert Dupries, La Maison Rouge.”
    This caught Paavo’s attention. La Maison Rouge was where the dead cocktail waitress, Sheila Danning, had worked.
    â€œWe haven’t met, but I did a review of the place and thought it was overpriced,” she said. “Then, the tall woman in the green Chanel suit is Hattie Walker of Old South. Her place is said to have the best hush puppies and sweet-potato pie this side of the Mississippi.”
    â€œThat sounds good,” Paavo said.
    She looked at him as if she thought he was crazy. “Really? Ah, now talking to Dupries is Vladimir Polotski. His Russian restaurant is doing about aswell as the former Soviet Union, and it’ll probably share the same fate.”
    Paavo shook his head. All these owners were starting to swim together.
    â€œThe only other competitor of Wielund’s that I see here is Greg McAndrews. He’s the young guy loading up his plate with pastries. I heard Mark Dustman, Wielund’s chef, baked everything you see on the table. Looks like he’s trying to find a new boss who’s got a sweet tooth. Anyway, McAndrews owns Arbuckle’s Seafood Restaurant down on the wharf.”
    Paavo’s gaze leaped from one to the other, taking them in.
    Angie smiled. “So what do you think?”
    Before he could reply, his attention was caught by a stout older man with snowy white hair done in a pompadour at least five inches high, stepping into the restaurant, waving and barking greetings to everyone around him. Beside him was an elegantly dressed woman with lots of red hair, the ends of one side sticking up as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.
    â€œLook who’s here,” Angie said with distaste. “That’s my boss. And with him is his wife the fainter, Lacy.”
    â€œLacy?” Paavo looked at her as if she were joking. “His wife’s name is Lacy LaTour?”
    â€œYes.”
    He grinned. “Sounds like a stripper.”
    â€œReal funny. She’s all involved, I