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Ten minutes later, he’d followed her directions to a small café. As the hostess led them to a table, they passed two or three smallish rooms, each one with a colorful mural painted on the walls. Fresh flowers sat in the center of every table.
Nico kept his hand on the small of her back, so he would notice immediately if she tensed. Froze up. Startled.
He huffed out a breath. Yeah, keep telling yourself that. He snatched his hand away as their hostess set menus on a table.
As he scanned the menu, he noticed that she didn’t even look at hers. “You know what you want?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said with a smile. “I always have the same thing at Zuzu’s. The seafood omelet with hash browns and fruit.”
“Sounds good,” he said, closing his menu.
As soon as the waitress had taken their orders and poured their coffee, Nico leaned across the table. They were in the back corner of one room, with no one else around. Exactly what he wanted.
“Tell me about any enemies you have.”
“Enemies?” Julia recoiled. Just enough to be noticeable. “What kind of enemies do you mean?”
“Any kind you can think of. Professional enemies. Other chefs who have a grievance against you. Other restaurant owners. Personal enemies. Old boyfriends. Girlfriends you no longer speak to.
“Someone from your restaurant who was angry you fired him or her. Customers who feel wronged by something that happened at Madeline’s. No one goes through life without enemies.”
“You’re right,” Julia said, her shoulders relaxing. “There are people who used to be part of my life who aren’t any longer, for one reason or another. Guys I’ve dated who were angry when I broke up with them. People who were once friends who aren’t any longer. And not every customer is happy with every meal, every experience, at any restaurant. But nothing stands out.” She lifted her coffee cup and took a sip. Set it down carefully. “Nothing that would make someone break into my house and install spyware on my computer.”
“Okay.” Nico took his own sip of coffee. “Let’s start with anyone who has less than wonderful memories of you, either in your personal life or your professional life. I’d like you to make a list when you get a chance. Even people who you think have probably forgotten all about you. Friends who’ve drifted away. Angry customers who made a big scene about their meal.”
When she opened her mouth to answer, he held up a hand. “I know there have been some. And even if you think their complaint was ridiculous or so petty you couldn’t believe it, I’d still like their names. What’s small or petty to you can look very different to someone with a different world view.”
Keeping her eyes on him, Julia nodded slowly. Picked up her coffee and took a sip. “I have a list of customers who’ve made a scene. Customers who’ve been irrationally angry about something. They hardly ever come back, but I write their names down anyway.”
Nico froze, staring at her. Then he set his coffee on the table and leaned closer to her. “So you do have a Do Not Seat list. Carole told me you didn’t.”
Julia frowned. “Why would she say that? There’s a list of names -- and it’s not very long -- at the hostess station. Carole knows she’s supposed to look at it whenever someone calls for a reservation. She’s probably got all the names memorized by now. As far as I know, no one on the list has tried to make a reservation.”
Interesting. Not only had Carole lied about a Do Not Seat list, but Barrett apparently made a scene every time he showed up and Carole continued to seat him. “Let me ask you something,” he said, smiling up at the waitress as she delivered their food. “The kind of scene I described, where Barrett ate his meal and then demanded it be comped because it wasn’t any good? Would that put him on the list?”
“Probably not, if it only happened once.” Julia shrugged. “Everyone has a bad day. But the people on the list are banned because they’ve had two or three incidents. Or been extremely loud. Or threatened to punch or beat up an employee.”
“Okay. I’ll need that list. And a list of the people in your personal life that might hold a grudge. Or be angry.”
Julia fell back against her chair. Exhaled. “I don’t really have personal enemies,” she said. Frowned. “There was a woman in culinary school who hated me. It started slowly, but by the end of the first semester, she was… causing problems. She’d sabotage meals I was preparing. Pour in a butt-load of salt. Pepper. Some random spice. It took a few weeks, but I finally caught her at it. I should have reported her, but she begged me not to. Said she was jealous of me because I was such a good cook and promised she wouldn’t do it again.”
Julia sighed. “So I didn’t report her. She never put anything into my food again, but she did other things. She’d open the oven door if I was cooking a souffle, then slam it shut. Take ingredients from my work station, which delayed my prep. Petty stuff like that.”
Nico had a small notebook and pen out. “What’s her name?”
“Tory Gardner.” She squared her shoulders. “I hated being a tattletale, but she was causing problems with my work, so I finally talked to my advisor. They moved her to a different class, and we were never in the same class again. The only thing she did after that was glare at me when she saw me.”
“Have you seen her since you graduated from school?”
“Haven’t seen her or heard from her,” Julia said. “I have no idea where she is. Not even sure if she’s working as a chef.”
“I’ll send her name to Mel. What years were you in culinary school, and which school was it?”
“CIA -- the Culinary Institute of America.” She told him the dates she was there.
“Good. I’ll give that info to Mel, and she’ll find the woman. See what she’s up to.” Nico took a bite of his food. Swallowed and took a deep breath. She wasn’t going to like this one. “Now we need to talk about what happened to your family when you were sixteen years old.”
