Cooking Up Murder (30 page)

"Not so surprised. They know it is you, Yuri."

This voice came from somewhere in the shadows behind Yuri. It was distorted by the echo. Man? Woman? Neither of us had the time to analyze. His finger on the trigger, gun raised, Yuri spun around, but the person standing in the shadows had the jump on him. There was a flash, and a shot cracked the air. The noise was still bouncing off the walls when Yuri tumbled to the floor, taking Eve with him. They landed together in a heap on the hardwood floor, on top of a trickle of blood that was quickly turning into a pool.

For the third time in as many minutes, I didn't stop to think. I raced over to Eve, kneeling beside her and cradling her head on my lap. Thank goodness, except for some polka dots of blood that had spattered from the bullet that went clear through Yuri, she looked none the worse for wear. I managed to pull her aside a few feet, away from the growing circle of blood. And Yuri's corpse.

"You are all right?"

I looked up just as Beyla stepped out of the shadows, and a new instinct took over. This one was self-preservation.

All I could think about was that Beyla still had a gun in her hands. And one look at Yuri's lifeless body was all I needed to remind myself that she knew how to use it.

"You! You . . . you shot him." My voice bumped over the words in time with the heartbeat knocking around my chest.

Beyla's expression was grim. She cast a glance at Yuri's body with blank, emotionless eyes. "He would have killed me," she said. "And you and Eve as well. Like he killed Drago. Like he killed poor Magda."

Nothing was making sense. I took in a breath as I sat back on my heels. "I know he killed Drago, but don't deny that you were in on it, too. You and Yuri were trying to take over the gun-smuggling business. Is that why he wanted you dead?"

Beyla's top lip curled (in a beautiful and exotic way, of course), and she barked out a laugh. "Guns! They are nothing to me. The money is nothing. If you understood this, you would know that I could have nothing to do with Drago and his guns or Yuri and his killings."

"Then what about the disc? What about Yuri? He said--"

"Yuri is scum. Like Drago." Beyla spat on the floor. It was so uncharacteristic a gesture from a woman who was so calm and beautiful, it sent a wave of fear through me. She must have known it, because she set her gun on the sales counter. "You still do not understand," she said.

Understatement.

"But you had the foxglove."

"Yes." She nodded. "As a talisman. You know what this is? I carry foxglove for protection."

"You mean, like a spell?" We were in deep waters now, and I was having a little trouble catching my breath. Gently, I moved Eve off my lap and got to my feet, all the while keeping an eye on Beyla and on the gun on the counter. As long as the two of them (Beyla and the gun, not my eyes) weren't anywhere near each other, I could breathe a little easier.

"You mean you really are a witch, just like Eve thought?"

Beyla laughed. "There are those who would use the word to describe me. I am Gypsy. I know the secrets of the old way of life. I am not using the foxglove to protect myself, but to protect my family. Back in Romania." She pulled in a breath and let it out again, apparently ordering her thoughts.

"Drago, he hired me to take care of the books for the gallery."

I thought back to something Yuri had told me. "Then you weren't lovers? Back in Romania?"

I guess the wave of revulsion that shivered through Beyla was answer enough. "I am accountant," she said. "I do this for businesses owned by Romanians. It is easier to handle their business because we speak the same language. I was doing accounts--this is how I found out about Drago and the guns. I made a copy of the information."

I glanced down at the disc I was holding. The Sinatra jewel case sparkled with tiny drops of Yuri's blood. I dropped it like it was on fire and wiped my hands on my pant legs. "That's what's on the disc. The information you copied."

Beyla nodded. "I told Drago I would keep this secret, but he must do something for me in return. Drago is rich and powerful. I tell him he must use his influence to get my family to this country. He said he would, but he lied. This is what we argue about, that night the cooking class started. I was very angry."

Beyla drew in a breath. "Drago thought I would give up, that I would be intimidated by him. I was not."

"And Yuri killed him to take over the smuggling business."

"Yes." Beyla's brows dropped over her eyes. "And Yuri . . ." She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "He is even worse man than Drago. He realized I knew what was going on--Drago told him. The night they had dinner together at Bucharest
.
Yuri knew about the disc, too, and he wanted it. This is why he tried to frighten me at cooking school."

I remembered the exploding stove and my singed eyebrows. "
You are next!
That's what the message meant. If you didn't cooperate, Yuri would kill you, too."

"Yes. I think that was his plan. Until he came up with one that was even more sure to work. He told me that if I did not deliver the disc with the information to him, my family in Romania--my mother and my brother and his children--they would all be killed."

"And all along, Yuri acted like all he wanted was to prove that you killed Drago so he could enlist our help." I shook my head, feeling like a fool. Looking around the gallery, another thought popped into my head. "But if you copied the information onto the disc, why were you searching the gallery for it?"

"You mean, the night you were outside the window watching me?" I looked away sheepishly. Apparently, Beyla knew exactly what tripped the alarm that night. "I was not looking for disc. Not in here." She glanced around the gallery. "I was checking for . . . how do you say this? . . . for bugs. To see if Yuri had cameras hidden. When I did not find any, I knew it was safe to go to the place where I had hidden the disc."

"And Magda?"

"Magda." Beyla shook her head sadly. "Magda's death is heavy in my heart."

For a moment, I thought she was confessing to killing Magda. But then I realized there was a sheen of tears in Beyla's eyes.

"I was to give the disc to Magda," Beyla said. "And Yuri would pick it up there. Only by that time, I do not trust Yuri. The disc I gave him was not complete. I leave false disc for Yuri and hide the real disc also at Magda's so that Yuri cannot kill me and find it in my home. Yuri picked up the disc I left for him, and then he killed Magda. When he looked at the disc, he was very angry to see that all the information was not on it, but I tell him I do not care. He will not get complete information until I know my family is safe."

"But then I showed up at Magda's and took the real disc." I felt like a fool, but I knew there was no use apologizing. "Then what about the pasta sauce?" I asked. "And the time you threatened to slit my neck?"

The expression that crossed Beyla's face was nearly a smile. "The sauce . . . this, you do not understand. My sauce of tomatoes, it is very good. And your cooking . . ." She shrugged and made a face. Enough said.

"And you say I threatened to kill you?" Beyla shook her head. "No. This is not true. I tell you to watch yourself. I tell you these are dangerous people you are dealing with. It was a warning."

I guess it all made sense. Though I would have felt a little more at ease if I just hadn't seen Beyla kill a man. At the same time I wondered if I should call the cops, I wondered if Beyla would let me.

I didn't have a chance--we heard the back door of the gallery open. I was all set to duck for cover, but Beyla stopped me. "It is safe, I think," she said. "I have called a friend."

The friend in question was John, the nerdy accountant from cooking class. Who suddenly didn't look much like an accountant or very nerdy anymore. In a well-tailored navy suit, a white shirt, and a to-die-for Italian silk tie, John looked more like--

"Special Agent Derek Malchowski." He stuck out a hand, and because I didn't know what else to do, I shook it. He pulled a leather wallet from his back pocket and flashed his credentials. "FBI."

My mouth fell open. "That's why you lied for Beyla about the night Drago died."

John--er, Derek--smiled. "Sorry to make you look bad in front of the locals. But Beyla needed an alibi, or the local cops were going to find out what was going on. We couldn't risk it. Not that early in the operation."

"And that explains what the two of you were doing in cooking class, too, right? It was an excuse for you to meet with Beyla. A way for you to get together and talk without anyone knowing."

John--er, Derek--smiled again. "We were afraid Drago was onto Beyla, and we couldn't take that chance. She was too valuable a source. And yes, since I know you're going to say it, that's why we missed bread class Saturday. Important meeting at headquarters."

Suddenly, my attention snapped back to my best friend. "Eve! we have to . . ." But Derek was way ahead of me.

"Called an ambulance," he said when I made a move to check on her again. Eve was still on the floor, but now she was curled up on her side and breathing peacefully.

With that worry out of the way, I had the luxury of being mortified. "I was so stupid to believe anything Yuri said. We almost ruined everything!"

Derek pursed his lips. "Actually, I think you conducted one heck of an investigation. Without you . . . well, we would have found the disc eventually, but you found it sooner. And thanks to you, it didn't fall into Yuri's hands. If it had, we're pretty sure he would have disappeared. We've been expecting a new shipment of weapons, a big one. If Yuri disappeared, we knew we'd never be able to track him or that shipment. That's why we held off arresting Drago, in case you're wondering."

He smiled. "You did fine there. Your only problem was assuming you knew who was guilty right from the start. Let me offer you a little professional advice, Annie: never make up your mind. Not about anyone. Not until you have all the facts." He dug a business card out of his wallet and gave it to me along with a wink. "Give me a call the next time you start on a case. I might be able to help out."

He turned and walked away just as the sound of sirens started pulsing outside the gallery. A team of paramedics rushed in and lifted Eve onto a stretcher, and I headed to the door to ride to the hospital with them.

But not before I took one last look at Yuri's body.

Once upon what seemed like a very long time before, I'd promised him that I would do whatever I could to bring Drago's killer to justice.

I wondered if he dreamed it would ever turn out this way.

I shook away the thought and stepped outside. Just as I did, a black car pulled up to the curb. No sooner had it stopped than a man stepped out of the passenger side. He waved Beyla over.

"You kept your part of the bargain." That was all he said before he opened the back door. Crowded into the backseat was a woman with iron-gray hair who looked a whole lot like an older version of Beyla, another man, and three small children. When Beyla saw them, she let out a gasp, and tears ran down her cheeks.

"Thank God!" She grabbed my hand, and honest to gosh, I think she would have kissed it if I didn't stop her. "This is my family. They are here. From Romania. They are no longer in danger."

I wasn't so sure that I had all that much to do with it, but I accepted her thanks. "I hope I can see you again," I called out as she rushed to the car door. "I've got a lot of apologizing to do."

Beyla turned and cast me a beaming smile.

"No need. And I will send you my sauce of tomatoes recipe. I think maybe it will taste better than yours." With that, she ducked into the car and from what I could see, there were tears and laughter all around.

"Just let me know when we can get together," I said, but the man who'd gotten out of the car first took my arm. He abruptly closed the car door and as soon as we backed off, the vehicle pulled away.

"Witness Security," he said. "What most folks call Witness Protection. You won't be seeing Beyla again."

Honestly, the thought made me a little sad. But in the great scheme of things, I guess it really didn't matter. After all we'd put her through, it was enough just to see Beyla happy.

Nineteen

"OK, TELL ME ONE MORE TIME." EVE SETTLED HERSELF
more comfortably against the pillows I'd mounded on the couch for her, but not before she leaned forward, scooped up another spoonful of peanut butter, and slopped it onto a chunk of chocolate. "You're saying that Beyla was really the good guy in all this?"