Deep Fried Revenge (Farm-to-Fork Mystery #4) - Lynn Cahoon Page 0,59

chef jacket, even if he is waiting for you.”

“Men just don’t understand the rules of relationships.” The official rules mean that you can ask them at any time to do a spot of manual labor. Like cleaning out flower beds or moving a chair from one room to another. She’d had Ian move boxes out of the attic and into her living room so she could start going through what Nona had left behind. From what she’d seen, the paper could be discarded in all the boxes, except her grandmother had a habit of writing recipes on the backs of receipts. So, every piece had to be examined before it was boxed up to burn in the fire. “Anyway, I’m coming up to the city limits now. Go tell him to start playing with whatever he wanted to present. I’ve got a few ideas too, but I want him to go first.”

“I’ll tell him. See you in a couple.”

Angie disconnected the call, and music filled her car. And since it was her favorite song, she let it go as she sang along, all the way to the back parking lot. She hurried up the stairs, locking her car door as she went. The door was unlocked, and she burst into the kitchen, tossing her tote on the chef’s table and going directly to the handwashing station.

“What’s up first?” She stepped closer to Estebe, loving the smell of grilled onions and peppers.

“I wanted to play with the idea of a sandwich on a stick. Maybe a Philadelphia cheesesteak or even a hamburger.” He showed her the hamburger grilling, wrapped around a stick.

She considered the options. “I like the idea, but I think we need to go further. Like, mashed potatoes in a tube or deconstruct something and put it on a stick.”

“So, you’re saying my ideas don’t go far enough.” He stared at the grilling hamburger.

Angie didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but there was no way they’d win with a dish like the one he was describing. She was about to speak when he nodded.

“You are right. This is pedestrian. We need a wow factor. Like chicken and dumplings on a stick.”

“Right idea, wrong season. Something summery. Something they’re already craving because they’re at the fair.” She pulled up a chair and a notebook. “Let’s brainstorm. I’ll put down the chicken and dumplings idea.”

“I thought you hated it.” He looked at her, curious.

“All ideas go on the page while we’re brainstorming.” She tapped her pen. “Besides, I didn’t hate the idea. I said it was the wrong season. So deconstructing a sandwich isn’t a bad idea either. What else do we have to work with?”

They spent the next thirty minutes working through a list. Finally, they decided on two to fix and then they’d make a final choice.

“The team will be able to help us choose what would be best.” Angie stretched her arms, tired from the activity. “Do you mind if I go to the office for a few minutes? I need to talk to Sheriff Brown.”

“He should not be putting you in harm’s way. If this man finds out what you’re doing, you might be the next one killed.” Estebe started mixing the batter that they’d use around the beef to mimic the bread for the first sandwich.

“Maybe it’s a woman. Did you ever think of that?” Angie teased as she made her way out to the hallway.

“Women do tend to use poison more often than men.” He nodded thoughtfully. When he saw Angie pause at the door, watching him, he shrugged. “What? I have been researching this situation as well.”

“You always surprise me,” Angie muttered as she left the kitchen. When she reached her office, she called the police station. The guy manning the phones hated her. And it didn’t seem like it mattered which officer was on duty. No one wanted her talking to Allen to be an easy task. When she was told the sheriff was out on a call, she left her name and number. Ten to one, her message would be lost. But she had an ace in the hole.

She dialed Ian’s number. And got his

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