Eggsecutive Orders

Suzie said, “How about we eat first, discuss business later?”

“Business?”

“Suze,” Steve said, finally turning to face her. “There is no business to discuss. Remember?”

Now my curiosity was piqued.

Suzie turned. Her smile showed too much teeth. “I thought we decided-”

“Yes.” His smile was an almost perfect mimic of hers. “We decided to have a nice di

Surprised, I asked, “You have a copy?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “We’re co-producers.”

As if that explained it to non-TV-savvy me. But that didn’t matter. “Where is it? Can I see it?”

He flung a derisive look over his shoulder and said, in a too-casual voice, “Sure. That’s the whole reason we wanted to have you for di

We made our way to the table. “I’m very glad to hear about the DVD.” I carried a basket of fresh-baked sesame rolls, which warmed my hands. “I had asked our chief usher about getting a copy, but he didn’t know if we could.”

They exchanged another look.

The dining area was beyond a half wall-sliced vertically-that made it seem as though we were in an entirely separate room. Open to the cameras yet again, this part of the stage was decorated with homespun accessories, giving the area the feel of a middle-class American home.

Suzie gave me a fu

Steve speared a perfectly grilled ribeye and placed it on my plate. “Medium-rare okay with you?”

“Perfect.” I turned to Suzie. “I was hoping to use the DVD to prove that nobody in the kitchen could have added anything to Minkus’s plate before it went out. Your crew was still filming right up to the end, remember?”

She nodded, but stared down at her own steak. She looked ready to cry.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I should have served the soup first.”

“I make the finest grilled vegetables in North America,” Steve said, leaning over to spoon a helping onto my plate. “Say when.”

But I was looking at Suzie. Her downcast expression was not soup-related. Of that I was certain.

I reached over to touch her hand. “Suze?”

Vaguely aware of a steamy scent wafting upward, I heard Steve say, “Should I keep going?”

I glanced at my plate, alarmed at the pile of vegetables he’d mounded there. “When-when!” I said, jerking my hands up. The quiche in my stomach shifted. “I’ll never be able to eat all that.”

“Sure you will,” Steve said with over-the-top ebullience. “I’m telling you, you’ve never tasted better.”

I twisted my head from side to side, to keep an eye on both of them. “What’s really going on here?”

Suzie sniffed.

Steve sat. “Eat,” he said. It was more an order than invitation.

I tried to manage my impatience by slicing off a small piece of ribeye. Steve had, in fact, grilled it to medium-rare perfection. Popping it in my mouth, I savored its tenderness. “This is wonderful.”

“Don’t forget your veggies.”

I couldn’t possibly forget-not with him constantly reminding me. I speared a green pepper. The vegetable’s skin, shiny with marinade, was cross-sected with grill lines and topped with an ingredient I assumed was chopped garlic. Waves of heat tickled my lips as I took my first bite.

I froze, mid-chew.

It was all I could do to keep from violently spitting the pepper out onto my plate. It tasted like nail polish remover. Or at least what I imagined nail polish remover might taste like. My eyes widened-I didn’t have any idea how to remove this vile thing from my mouth with Steve watching me. Waiting for me to proclaim his creation fabulous.

“Mmm,” I said, grabbing desperately for the napkin on my lap. Damn. Cloth. I needed paper.

“What do you think, Ollie?” Steve asked, his eyes glittering. “Bet you’ve never tasted anything like it.”

I stood.

All of a sudden, it hit me. What if Suzie and Steve had poisoned Minkus? Were they now trying to get rid of me? I raced out of the stage area, ducking into the washroom, where I yanked the wastebasket to my face and spit the offensive vegetable out.

Was my light-headedness was because I’d jumped up so quickly-or was I about to die just as Minkus had? I gripped the countertop and looked into the mirror. The lights were still off, so I couldn’t see much. My lips tingled. My tongue was numb.

Just like Minkus.

I had to get out of here.

“Ollie, what’s wrong?” Suzie asked, following me into the room. Blocking my exit.

Suzie’s careworn face had paled. Steve stood behind her, looking grim. Why? Because their plan had failed?

“Sick,” I said, my tongue sluggish and swollen. “I better go.”

Steve shook his head. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No!” I shouted. “My car is here. I’ll be okay.”

Now it was Suzie shaking her head. “I won’t feel comfortable with you driving alone. Is there someone we can call? Maybe I’ll drive with you and Steve can follow us.”

She reached over and felt my forehead. “You’re clammy.”

No kidding.

“Come on,” she said, taking my arm. “Let’s sit for a few minutes.”

I tugged away. “Gotta go.”

“But what about the DVD?” Suzie asked. “You really wanted to see it.”

Not at the expense of my life, I thought.

She pressed. “Come on back to the table. I’ll get the DVD and then we’ll figure out how to get you home safely.”

Working my way to the door, I tried to still the thudding of my heart. Was its extra-speedy beat from that single bite of green pepper? Was I about to go into cardiac arrest?

Ready to run, I looked at Suzie and Steve. Really looked at them. These two had been my friends for several years. Why was I suspecting them of murder?

Because they’d been acting like weirdos leading up to di

“My purse,” I said, hurrying back to the table. I chanced a look at Suzie’s and Steve’s plates. Neither had taken the grilled vegetables.

My stomach churned and I put a hand over my mouth.

Suzie beat me to the table and picked up my purse but didn’t hand it over. Steve told me to wait while he got the DVD.

Would he come back with a meat cleaver?

“I told my mom and nana that I was coming here tonight,” I said.

Suzie looked distracted. “Will they be able to come get you?”

“No-they don’t have a car.” I held out my hand for my purse.

She stepped back, out of my reach. “I don’t know if you’re safe to drive.” Worry wrinkled her forehead. “You seemed fine until you started eating.”

“No… I’ve not been feeling well.”

The platter of vegetables sat directly in front of Suzie’s plate. She eyed them, then looked at me. “It’s too bad,” she said. “Steve was so excited to have you try this new marinade.”

I’ll bet.

Eyeing the veggies again, she leaned forward and picked up a piece of grilled portabella. If she tried to force-feed me, I was going to run for the door.

She surprised me by taking a big bite. “Oh my God,” she said, around the mouthful. She looked around wildly, but didn’t run away, as I had. Instead she grabbed the cloth napkin off the table and spit into it. “My God,” she said again. “That’s horrible.”

“Found it!” Steve said, emerging from the back area. No meat cleaver. No gun. He held a DVD in a jewel case near his head. He waved it triumphantly.

“Steve,” Suzie said, pointing at the vegetable platter. “What did you do to those?”

He looked from his wife, to me, to the platter, and then back again. “What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re disgusting. What’s in that new recipe you used? This is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. I swear, if I didn’t know better, you were trying to poison us.”

Suzie’s hand flew to her mouth as she realized what she’d said. Then: “My tongue is numb.”

Steve’s smile dissolved. Anger and disbelief took over, as he leaned over the table to grab one of the grilled veggies. He threw two peppers into his mouth and began to chew vigorously. But not for long. Within seconds he was gagging.