Spike by Kathy Reichs, Brendan Reichs Read Free Book Online Page B

Leaned forward and inhaled deeply, drinking the man’s scent. I detected the acrid stench of deception immediately.
    He’s lying
.
    Biggs reared back, watching me warily. “Did you just—”
    The ballroom speakers squealed. Someone made an announcement.
    Biggs seemed to forget I was there, eyeing the doors, an artery pumping in his neck.
    I stepped sideways to get a look at the cake, a three-level monstrosity of pink curls and raspberry script, topped by a chocolate bride and groom. Beside it, a metal bowl half-filled with brown liquid rested on the cart. A pastry brush and plastic icing smoother sat beside it.
    Biggs had been retouching the cake.
    And from the looks of things, doing a crap job of it.
    “Why is the icing smeared?” I demanded. The top and middle tiers looked uneven, as if the frosting had been massaged with significantly less skill than the original application.
    I don’t like this. What’s he doing? T
he cake looks worse.
    The boys tensed behind me.
    Biggs must’ve sensed the change in atmosphere. He stepped backward, his left hand still tucked out of sight.
    “What’s in the bowl?” Hi pointed at the cart. “Weird place for a finger bath.”
    Biggs glared, then sniffed imperiously. “I don’t have time for this.”He started to turn away. Found a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
    Ben winked at the chef. “Make time.”
    Biggs shrugged Ben off with a sneer. But despite the bravado, dots of perspiration lined his brow. His left hand remained maddeningly out of view.
    “This cake looked better before you messed with it.” Shelton spoke softly, as if making a casual observation. “You sure you were supposed to?”
    I pointed to his closed fist. “What’s that note about? Why’d you ball it up?”
    Biggs didn’t answer. I could sense his confidence leaching away, despite his size. The four of us had him surrounded, and it was making him uncomfortable. “I . . . I . . . uh . . . I have to prepare the cake for service now.” He made a shooing gesture with his fist. “You’d better run along now. Go on.”
    No one moved.
    “Okay, fine.” Biggs spun and dropped something into the bowl, then scooped it with one hand, shielding the rim so we couldn’t see inside. “Guests aren’t supposed to be back here. I’m going to get my boss.” He shouldered through our circle—and the kitchen door—before anyone had a chance to stop him.
    We exchanged glances.
    “That was interesting,” Hi said. “It’s like we caught him with his pants down.”
    “Maybe we did.” Shelton was inspecting the cake. “Dude really jacked this frosting up. It’s not crazy noticeable, but he smashed some of the ridges when he smoothed the icing. Look at the bottom tier. See how it’s supposed to look?”
    Hi licked his lips. “Still looks delicious. Maybe I should take a small taste, just to—”
    “Don’t even think about it,” Ben warned. “Whitney would have a heart attack. Whatever that guy was doing, thankfully the damage isn’t too bad.”
    True.
    But something was definitely fishy.
    Just then, three cooks bustled in from the ballroom, laughing and exchanging jokes. Seeing us around the cake, they smiled. “Soon!” promised a woman with twinkling brown eyes.
    I barely heard, eyes glued to her uniform.
    Specifically, to the royal blue piping on her pants, hat, and smock.
    I scanned the other two cooks. They were dressed identically to the first woman.
    Biggs wasn’t wearing the same uniform.
    A cold feeling formed in the pit of my stomach. I spun.
    She
lton, find that jerk
. See where he goes
and what he’s doing.
    Shelton ran a hand across his face, but hurried out.
Can’t
even go to a freakin
g wedding . . .
    Oblivious to my anxiety, the three caterers unlocked the cart’s wheels and began wheeling the cake toward the double doors. They hadn’t noticed the damage to the icing. As they disappeared into the ballroom, I felt a twinge of panic.
    Hi, follow
the cake.