Hail to the Chef

“Ready as I can be,” I said.

She pulled a tight breath in between her teeth and gave a mock shiver. “I always get so nervous right before a big event. Really, you’d think this was my first time doing this, wouldn’t you? But what a feat we’ve pulled off, huh?”

“What happened to the fountain?” I asked.

“That electrician said he couldn’t fix it where it was, so he took it downstairs to the shop. Last I heard there was nothing they could do to get it in place on time. I ordered a replacement, but that’s not here yet either.” Her smile wilted. “Looks like we’re going fountainless, after all.”

“What a shame,” I said.

She leaned in toward me. “To be honest, I was having nightmares about splashing and spillage. This may be a blessing in disguise.”

About an hour later, I was checking on early lunch preparation down in the staff cafeteria when I happened upon Curly working on the very fountain Kendra and I had discussed.

He was on his hands and knees looking up into the underside of the contraption, scowling, as usual. I thought he looked like a little boy sent to sit under a table for punishment.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He didn’t acknowledge me.

I crouched next to him. “I thought Ma

“You are a nosy thing, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice breathless as he rearranged himself to sit. I saw why in a moment. The new position allowed him freedom to lift his hands over his head and access the fountain’s i

Nonplussed, I scooted forward until I could see underneath as well. “I didn’t realize this was all one piece,” I said.

He brought his hands down. “What the hell do you want with me?”

“You really want to know?”

“You’ve been dancing around, pointing your finger at me since Gene got himself killed,” he said. “You trying to get me to say it was my fault?”

“No, I-”

“Because it wasn’t my fault.”

“I never thought it was.”

“You don’t know a socket from a volt ohmmeter,” he said. “How the hell can you come to me and start asking me about electrical problems? You think I’m glad Gene got killed? You think I wanted his job? You think I arranged that?” Spittle formed at the corners of his mouth and, despite being in a confined space, he gestured wildly.

“No, of course not,” I said.

He mumbled to himself, looked away, and began working over his head again. Then as though he just thought of something, he tapped the fountain’s underside. “You were there when this thing broke down, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said slowly.

“And you swear you saw this thing shoot water to the ceiling.”

“Just short of the ceiling.”

“But you swear you saw it.”

“Yes, I saw it.”

“Well, there ain’t nothing wrong with this here fountain,” he said. “What kind of game are you playing, anyway?” he asked. “What do you want from me?”

“All I ever wanted from you,” I said in a clear voice, “was to answer one question. And before you shut me up again, here it is: A friend I trust has been an electrician for more than fifty years. He told me that more than one expert has been killed by floating neutrals. We had that storm the day of Gene’s accident, remember? My friend just suggested I ask you to check to make sure the White House is safe. All I ever wanted from you was to make sure the house was safe. Okay?”

Angry now, I stood and didn’t intend to look back before I left him sitting under the fountain. But I did look back and was immediately sorry. Though not directed at me, the intensity of his furious gaze nearly made me miss a step.

CHAPTER 22

BINDY WAS WAITING FOR ME IN THE KITCHEN when I arrived.

“Are they there?” she asked me.

I didn’t understand. “Are who where?”

Behind her, Bucky rolled his eyes. “We have a lot of work to do here,” he admonished. “I hope you’re not pla

Bindy’s face reddened. “I’m sorry to bother you. I just felt as though I needed to make sure. They’ve closed off the upstairs to everyone until noon.” She looked at her watch. “But I promised Treyton I’d double-check on the placement of his kids’ gingerbread men.”

Senator Blanchard had very clearly washed his hands of the White House-at least until he himself could call the place home. There was no mistaking that, after last night’s arguments. Bindy was apparently far out of the loop. “Maybe there’s something you ought to know,” I said. “Give me a minute here and we’ll talk, okay?”

I went around to the computer where I checked my schedule, to ensure we weren’t ru

Bindy watched as I took turns to speak with each of the chefs. My first duty was to make sure that the kitchen produced the quality edibles we were known for, so I didn’t skimp on any of my questions. Nor did I harbor any fondness for Bindy’s boss. Let her wait.

“I’ll be out in the hall,” she said when Cyan pulled me back toward the storage area.

“Thank goodness,” I said under my breath.

Agda smiled and asked us to move out of her way as she slid a tray of petit-fours into the large stainless steel refrigerator.

I kept my voice low. “Can you believe she’s still bugging me about those gingerbread men?”

“Give it a rest, girl,” Cyan said. “Did you tell her they’re safe and sound in their place of honor?” She shook her head, then turned the subject back to our current concerns. “Whatever. I’ve got a slight change to the design we decided on for the lobster cake appetizer.”

She was about to reach into the same refrigerator Agda was using when the taller woman tilted her head and closed the door. “Pretty men?” she asked us.

We both looked at her, not understanding.

The blonde bombshell pulled her lips in as though trying to decide how to word what she wanted to convey. She held up three fingers. “Gingerbread from box?” she asked.

I remembered that Agda had been there when we received the three additions from the Blanchard family. I nodded. “Yes.”

“Very pretty,” she said again.

With Bindy waiting for me out in the hall and several thousand appetizers waiting for my approval in the next room, I was eager to put an end to this not-so-scintillating conversation. “They truly are,” I said, eager to see the change Cyan wanted to show me.

Agda put her hand on my arm. “They are broken?”

“No,” I said. “Last I looked, they were upstairs.”

She shook her head. “Yi-im,” she said, pronouncing his name Yim instead of Yee-eem. “He is fixing them, no?”

Now I was totally confused. “No. No one is fixing them. They’re upstairs.” I asked Cyan, “When did you last see them?”

She thought about it. “This morning. Yeah. All three were there. They looked fine to me.”

“And I saw them about an hour ago,” I said. I’d hate to think that one of them fell off their little posts. I turned to Agda. “Did one of them fall?”

She held up her hands in the universal language of “I don’t know.” Biting her lip before she spoke again, she said, “Yi-im tell me to shh.” She placed a finger over her lips. “He say he break it, he fix it.”

“When was this?” I asked.

Her big eyes moved up and to the left. “Eight o’clock, at night.”

“Yesterday?”

She nodded.

“Wow, that’s pretty specific,” I said.

She may not have understood my surprised reaction, but she must have understood my meaning. “I have couple minutes before I go home last night,” she said. “I want to see White House upstairs. Yi-im say, ‘Shhh.’ ”

“You asked him about it?”

“Yah. He say he fixing.” She tilted her head. “Fixing all three.”

With Agda and Yi-im and their combined broken English, I couldn’t begin to guess what either of them really meant. I rubbed my eyes. The last thing we needed was another loose end. “Maybe I should go check,” I said.