Branded for You (22 page)

Tess stepped out of the way and let the inspectors in.

“We’ve met before.” McDonald held out his hand to Margaret. “When we received a previous complaint.”

“Which turned out to be bogus,” Tess said.

“That is true,” McDonald said as he gripped Margaret’s hand. “But this is a more serious problem. We understand that several of your patrons ate a chicken dinner you served and became ill.”

The woman, Inspector Canton, started her inspection as Johnson spoke.

“We’ve had calls this morning.” Margaret’s back was rigid as she drew her hand away from McDonald. “But I don’t understand how. We adhere to all regulations and our own strict precautions.”

“We’re required to research this problem thoroughly, Mrs. Dyson.” McDonald gave a nod toward the refrigerator. “Is that where the chicken is kept?”

“Yes.” Margaret started toward the fridge.

McDonald held up his hand. “I’ll take a look myself.”

Margaret stepped back and let McDonald past.

As the inspectors went through the kitchen, Ryan settled his hand on Megan’s shoulder. “Can you think of anything odd happening?”

Megan and her sister shook their heads. Margaret watched the inspectors.

Another knock came at the door and Tess answered it again.

When she opened the door, Ryan saw that it was the reporter from the poker game.

“I’m David Danbury with the Prescott Review.” He had a serious expression. “We’ve received reports that you’ve had multiple customers with cases of food poisoning from last night and that the Health Department has been notified. How is it that your restaurant managed to get so many people ill?”

Tess slammed the door in the reporter’s face.

“The newspaper already knows?” Margaret burst into tears and buried her face in her hands.

Tess put her arm around her mother’s shoulders, looking close to tears herself.

“Come on, Mom,” Megan said. “Sit down and I’ll make a cup of blackberry tea.”

“Blackberry tea?” Margaret looked almost hysterical again. “How is that supposed to calm me?”

“Just have a seat.” Tess guided Margaret to the kitchen table.

Megan went to a cabinet and drew out a box of flavored teas and put a kettle on to boil.

Margaret watched the inspectors comb through the kitchen. “What if they shut us down?”

Tess rubbed Margaret’s shoulder. “Have faith, Mom. Everything will work out.”

“How?” Margaret sobbed. “Explain to me how this is all going to be all right.”

Megan laid her hand on her mother’s. “One step at a time, Mom. We’ll get through this and the restaurant will survive.”

That same something that had been bothering Ryan earlier nagged at him but he couldn’t put his finger on it. What was it? Was there some explanation that was eluding him?

Mentally, he shook his head. Likely it was just the fact that he wanted to believe there was some way to help the Dysons. This might be one mess he couldn’t help them climb out of.

Chapter 25

Megan sank onto a seat in the nearly empty restaurant that evening, a feeling of heaviness weighing her down. Last night had been a full house, incredible in every sense of the word. Today it was like a graveyard.

News of the food poisoning had spread quickly throughout the city, thanks in great part to the reporter from the Prescott Review.

But a television station from Phoenix had also picked up the story. It might have been a slow news day, but a reporter had pounced on the fact that nineteen people were reported to have come down with an illness from a Prescott restaurant. Someone from the news station tried to contact the owners of the Hummingbird Café, but Tess told the reporter that they had no comment.

The Health Department inspectors found no violations upon inspection of the restaurant. If anything, it was in remarkable condition, clean and sanitary on all levels. Of course, they took the tainted chicken to be tested.

Because no violations were found, the Dysons were allowed to keep the restaurant open, but the damage was done. Between rumors that spread across town by word of mouth, to the reports by both newspaper and TV news, the café had experienced a devastating blow.

All day Margaret had been almost inconsolable. Megan believed her mother’s breakdown was in part due to the fact that her husband and partner had died only two weeks prior.

Julian hadn’t shown up, probably fearing blame for the chicken since he’d been the cook. Maybe he had been to blame… Although for the life of her, Megan couldn’t figure out how.

Earlier in the day they’d had fresh chicken delivered. The loss from the damage of the tainted chicken had cost them more than they could afford to lose. If this continued, it would shut down the business.

Ryan walked into the café and Megan rose to meet him. She went straight into his arms, needing a hug. He’d had to go back to the ranch today to get some work done and she’d wished he could have been at her side the entire day. It was a selfish thought, but she felt so much better with him around.

“You okay?” he asked as they headed toward the kitchen with his arm around her shoulders and her arm resting at his waist.

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “All of this—it’s just so hard.”

“Have you thought of or come across anything that might give you some clue as to how the chicken was tainted?” he asked.

Megan shook her head as they walked into the kitchen. “It’s a mystery.”

Ryan saw Megan’s mother. “Hi, Margaret,” he said. “How are you holding up?”

She shrugged. “About as well as anyone could, I suppose.”

“Where’s your cook?” he asked as he looked at Megan.

“He didn’t show up.” Megan brushed a strand of hair from her face. “We’re guessing he saw the news reports and thought he might be blamed.”

Tess walked into the kitchen and put her hand on her hip. “Who knows? Maybe he is.”

Ryan frowned. Why hadn’t Julian Taylor shown up? Did he have something to do with the tainted meat?

A thought went through him that caused hair to prickle on his arms. Taylor had been at that poker game and he knew Meyer.

And Meyer had made a statement… That statement was what had been bothering Ryan—he just hadn’t realized what it was that had been nagging him until now.

“Maybe a few people will get sick there.”

That was what Meyer had said.

Had Meyer somehow sabotaged the chicken?

How? Through Taylor?

“Is something wrong?” Megan’s voice brought Ryan out of his thoughts.

He shook his head. “Just have a few things on my mind.” He offered her a smile. “It’s nothing important.” He wasn’t ready to tell her his suspicions. He needed to figure out a few things.

“I’ve been thinking.” Megan looked at the back door that led to the parking lot from the kitchen. “Yesterday morning the lock had been tampered with and the door had been ajar.” She returned her gaze to Ryan. “Do you think anyone could have come in and messed with the chicken?”

Ryan went to the door, opened it, then examined it. He looked over his shoulder at Megan. “Do you have a security camera?”

Megan shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“We don’t.” Margaret looked up from the vegetables she was chopping.

“Maybe we should get one,” Tess said and Megan nodded in agreement.

“I want to check out a couple of things.” Ryan returned to Megan’s side and gave her a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in a while.”

She nodded. “All right.”

Ryan headed out the back door and closed it behind him. He stepped back and surveyed it before looking at the back of the Chuck Wagon on one side and the new convenience store on the other.

He studied the convenience store. They usually had plenty of cameras around. Maybe they had one that had a view of the café. He walked closer to the store and looked along the side. There was a camera on one corner. Depending on the angle it showed, there was a possibility that it had a view of the back door of the café.

Ryan walked to the convenience store, the smell of gas strong from the pumps out front. An electronic tone greeted him as he pushed the glass doors open. He didn’t recognize the male clerk at the cash register.

“Who’s the on-duty manager?” Ryan asked the clerk whose nametag read, Stuckey.

“I am.” Stuckey leaned on the counter. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to take a look at the surveillance recordings from the camera on the northwest corner of the building,” Ryan said. “From Thursday night to Friday morning.”

Stuckey shook his head. “No can do.”

“It’s important.” Ryan tried to hold back his impatience.

The man shrugged. “Isn’t everything?”

Ryan rested one forearm on the countertop. “Who’s the owner?”

“Max Johnson,” Stuckey said. “He’s on vacation in the Bahamas.”

Damn, Ryan thought, but only said, “Thanks,” and pushed away from the counter. He walked outside the store and strode toward his truck behind the café.

After he unlocked the door, climbed in, and started the vehicle, he headed to the Yavapai County Sheriff’s Department.

The drive wasn’t far from the café and his luck held—his cousin, Sheriff Mike McBride, was in the office.

Mike greeted him after the receptionist let him know that Ryan was in to see him. Mike motioned for Ryan to follow him into his office.

“How are you doing these days?” Mike said as he sat behind his desk.

Ryan took a seat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Damned good.” He leaned forward and braced his forearms on his thighs. “But there’s a problem.”

Mike nodded. “Go on.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the food poisoning last night at the Hummingbird Café,” Ryan said.

“I imagine everyone in the county has heard that news by now,” Mike said. “What about it?”

“I think the chicken was tampered with.” Ryan took off his western hat and held it. “I believe it was intentionally sabotaged.”

Mike raised his brows. “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“I think the beginning goes back a ways.” Ryan told Mike about the Dysons winning the lease out from under Meyer and his threat that they would regret it.

“Are you saying Roger Meyer is responsible?” Mike said. “He’s one big sonofabitch, but that’s a pretty strong accusation.”

“There’s more,” Ryan said. He explained about the poker game and Meyer’s comments about the restaurant and his desire to get the lease on it. “He as much as told me what he was going to do when he said that maybe some people would get sick.”

Mike’s expression remained calm but his eyes hardened. “Anything more than his comment?”

“One of his friends from the poker game was hired as the Dysons’ new cook,” Ryan said. “His first day was yesterday, the day of the grand reopening and he cooked all of the chicken dinners.” Ryan paused. “He didn’t show up for work today.”

Mike’s gaze remained fixed on Ryan. “Got anything else?”

“The restaurant was broken into yesterday morning,” Ryan said. “The Dysons couldn’t find anything missing or tampered with, so they didn’t report it.”

“They have a security camera?” Mike asked.

Ryan shook his head. “No, but the convenience store next door does, and I think the parking lot behind the café might be in the radius the camera covers. I talked with the clerk but he wouldn’t let me take a look at the recordings.”

Mike leaned forward. “Well then, I think a visit to the convenience store is in order.”

After Mike grabbed his western hat, he and Ryan headed out of the sheriff’s office. Ryan followed the sheriff’s SUV to the convenience store where they both parked. They went in together.

“Hi, Stuckey.” Mike pushed up the brim of his cowboy hat. “How’s the wife and kids?”

“They’re doing fine.” Stuckey grinned at the sheriff. “What can I do for you, Sheriff McBride?”

Mike explained about the recordings he wanted to view.

“The boss is on vacation,” Stuckey said, “but I wager he’d let you take a look at them. I can’t leave so I’ll have Les take you to the back.”

Mike thanked him and Stuckey paged Les who showed up moments later. Stuckey told Les to let the sheriff look over anything he wanted to.

Les escorted Mike and Ryan to the back, past crates of merchandise that hadn’t been stocked yet. It smelled of floor cleaner from the mop bucket they passed that was off to one side.

In the back office, Les showed them the security cameras. Sure enough, the one on the northwest corner had a partial view of the café’s parking lot. Les searched that camera’s recordings for the approximate time they were looking for.

“Sometime after dark on Thursday night,” Ryan said. “The restaurant wasn’t reopened until Friday morning, but Margaret Dyson and her daughters were at the café to accept deliveries during the day on Thursday.”

It took some time studying the tape. Around two
AM
Friday morning, a car drove into the parking lot behind the café. Both Mike and Ryan leaned forward.

“Looks like an old Chevy Impala,” Mike said. “Probably a 2001 or 2002.”

They watched as a man climbed out of the car. His face was shadowed and they couldn’t get a good look. The man went around the back of the car, opened the trunk, and took out a box before slamming the trunk lid shut.

The man’s face was still shadowed until he walked into the light from the pole behind the café.

“That’s him.” Ryan leaned back as his suspicion was confirmed. “It’s Julian Taylor.”

Ryan and Mike watched as Taylor set down the box then messed with the lock at the back door. Moments later, he opened the door, picked up the box, and headed into the café. About ten minutes later, Taylor came out of the restaurant holding a box, then went back to the Impala where he put the box in the back then climbed into the driver’s seat.

“I’ve seen enough.” Mike stopped the tape. “I have enough to arrest this Julian Taylor.”

“Mind of I tag along?” Ryan asked his cousin. “I can identify him.”

“After I get a warrant, you can be there when we make the arrest,” Mike said.

Mike thanked Les and Stuckey and went outside with Ryan. They headed to his office and Mike arranged for a warrant. While they waited, he got what he needed to track down Taylor.