Chef Maurice and the Wrath of Grapes (Chef Maurice Culinary Mysteries Book 2) by J.A. Lang Read Free Book Online Page B

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    “Pah, instant coffee,” muttered Chef Maurice, and continued on until he unearthed a slightly tarnished coffee pot and an unopened bag of fresh grounds.
    “How many?” he said.
    All hands shot up, except for Mrs Bates, who deplored such a patently European habit and went to fill up the teapot.
    The coffee had barely brewed when Gilles and Paloni returned, their faces grim. Mrs Bates bustled over and grabbed the saucepan out of Paloni’s hands.
    “My best pan, that is,” she tutted.
    “We found where he got in,” said Paloni. “Broken window in the storeroom right next to here. Glass all over the shop.”
    “The intruder must have waited to enter the cellar after Mr Paloni left Sir William,” said Gilles. “Presumably it was he who locked the cellar door after.”
    “But why would he do that?” said Ariane. Her eyes were wide, and she was clutching Bertie’s arm.
    “To slow us down and distract us, clearly,” said Resnick. “Give him time to make his escape.”
    “A plausible explanation, sir,” said Gilles. “Has anyone telephoned the police?”
    They explained the crackly phone line.
    “Very well. If you will excuse me, I will walk down to the main road. There is a telephone box not far from the gates. The police must be notified immediately.”
    “I’ll go too,” said Bertie, though there was a slight tremor in his voice.
    “So will I,” said Resnick.
    “And me,” said Paloni.
    Arthur looked around and realised he’d have to volunteer too, for the look of the thing. Thankfully, Gilles spoke first.
    “If you will allow me, gentlemen, I do not think it needs so many of us. Mr Lafoute and I will go to telephone the police. Perhaps the rest of you gentlemen could stay here and look after the ladies.”
    Lady Margaret looked up from her book with an unimpressed stare. “I think you will find we are quite capable of looking after ourselves.”
    “Of course, ma’am,” said Gilles with a bow, then beat a hasty retreat with Bertie on his tail.
    Paloni lost no time in settling himself next to Ariane, draping his dinner jacket over her bare shoulders, and was soon engaged in a low, murmuring conversation.
    Mrs Bates gave a sudden cry and hurried over to the warming oven. She extracted a large tray of mini Yorkshire puddings, complete with mini sausages and dollops of thick gravy.
    “They were his favourite,” she said quietly.
    The assembled guests had, however, lost their appetites. Arthur managed two, while Chef Maurice stepped in to polish off the lot—no doubt for Mrs Bates’ sake.
    “Madame Bates, when was the last time that you saw Sir William?” asked Chef Maurice, sitting down with his second cup of coffee.
    “It was just when he was going down to the cellar with Mr Paloni,” said Mrs Bates. “He popped his head in here and asked me to get the canapés ready to go.”
    “And when was this?”
    Mrs Bates looked up at the clock over the sink.
    “Was just a few minutes after seven,” she said. “I remember because the tartlets take ten minutes to warm through, and I was going to get the first trays ready for quarter past.”
    “And the door to the kitchen, it was open all the time?”
    Mrs Bates nodded. “But I was racing all over the place, single-minded I am. I don’t think I’d have noticed anything happening out there.” Her hands trembled. “Do you think I might have seen—”
    “Ah, you must not worry yourself about that. A criminal makes sure to not be seen. But do you remember seeing Monsieur Paloni leaving the cellar?”
    “That I did. Came storming out, he did. I remember laughing to myself because he tried to slam the door”—she shot a quick look over to Paloni, but he was still occupied with Ariane—“except it ain’t that kind of door and swings ever so slow.”
    Chef Maurice lowered his voice. “And you did not see him lock it?”
    Mrs Bates shook her head. “He was gone before it even closed. Plus, I’d have remembered something