Steamed

wait a few minutes.”
    I helped Josh locate a small pot and a skillet, and pulled out a cutting board for him. Mortified, I noticed that my wooden cutting board had warped so radically that it formed an arc when placed on the counter. “I’m sorry. My kitchen tools aren’t what you’re used to,” I apologized.
    “Not to worry. I can chop and slice on anything. And your cutting board has real architectural interest.” His eyes smiled.
    I poured two glasses of white and sat down to drool. Over Josh and the food.
    Josh had mercifully brought his own knives, so I didn’t have to embarrass myself by showing him my pitiful collection of Kmart cutlery. I watched as he held a sharpening steel out in front of him and worked on placing razor edges on what looked disconcertingly like murder weapons. The steel was the same one I’d seen him use at Magellan, a foot-long rod with a blue plastic handle. The sight of the knives bothered me. I wasn’t sure I could ever look at a knife again without having visions of the curved knife that had killed Eric. A cimiter, Josh had called it. Josh’s knife, I thought as I watched him hone a blade. Then, as if I were awakening from a light trance, I saw the absurdity of my attack of suspicion. A chef sharpening a knife? Nothing was more ordinary. What was Josh supposed to do? Cook with dull knives?
    Josh took the tuna out and began rubbing it with a mysterious and aromatic mixture. “Okay, let’s let the tuna marinate in that for a few minutes while we start the salads.” The Bibb lettuce and radicchio salads were dressed with tomato vinaigrette. Josh spent a few moments rearranging the green Bibb lettuce leaves and the red radicchio leaves before wiping the edges of the plates clean and setting our dishes on the table.
    “Okay,” Josh started. “So, tell me about dinner at the Raffertys’. I still can’t believe Eric was broke.”
    “Yeah, I know. But what we don’t know is who knew that. And when.” I cut a piece of lettuce with my fork. “What if Tim found out that Eric was never planning on investing in Essence? And in a rage, he killed Eric? Tim probably could’ve gotten hold of your knife. No one would’ve thought it was strange to see someone from Essence over at Magellan. Especially Tim, since he used to be one of the owners.”
    “And he would’ve been pissed off that Eric had been milking him for free food and bugging him with all his suggestions for the restaurant.” Josh laughed. “Except Tim just doesn’t strike me as a killer. And from what you’ve said, Tim was out to impress Eric the night Eric was killed. So unless Tim found out during your dinner at Essence that Eric was scamming him, that theory doesn’t work too well.”
    “Well, Tim might’ve found out before we went in for dinner and just acted like he still needed to impress him. He lured Eric in for a free dinner so he could kill him!” I beamed. Chloe Carter, the next Sherlock Holmes!
    Josh raised his eyebrows at me.
    I continued. “And Garrett! He had a motive, too. I’m sure he wanted Essence to do well. He’s the executive chef. He has to want Essence to be a big success. And with Eric’s money, Garrett would’ve had access to better ingredients, better equipment, and all that. He’d have been furious that Eric was a big fraud, too. Or what about Eric’s parents? Maybe they thought Eric was loaded and that they’d inherit his money. Imagine their surprise when they discovered they’d killed their son and he was in major debt!”
    “The odds that his parents were in some sort of sick conspiracy to murder their son is pretty unlikely. Possibly one of them might’ve done it, but not both of them.”
    “And, did I tell you they’re moving? Well, buying a second house. Out in California. Phil said they’d had plans to do it for a while but that there were some things to work out first. Like maybe getting more money to close their new real estate deal,” I said excitedly.
    Josh looked at me skeptically. “But I don’t see how they could’ve needed Eric’s money so badly. They certainly seemed to have enough. I was in their house, and I saw their cars. That doesn’t make any sense. And Garrett and Tim aren’t good suspects either,” he said. “Garrett had no reason to want bad press around Essence.”
    “And I don’t see how he would’ve had time. I didn’t have my eye on him every minute, but just before I fainted, I was pretty sure I saw him cutting a piece