Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

flanked on either side by two assistants, similarly attired in white, who were both young and good-looking, although one was badly affected by acne. In addition to several youngsters in casual dress who were presumably waiting staff, there was a man in a formal suit and tie and a middle-aged woman in a blue overall.

     
    The man in the suit stepped forward and introduced himself as Jed Parker, the restaurant manager. Around forty, quietly-spoken and immaculately dressed, he seemed perfectly composed. His expression was appropriately solemn.
    ‘This is Henri Gilbert, our master chef, and his two sous-chefs, Will and Ollie.’
    The two young men nodded and mumbled, while Henri stared past Geraldine, barely deigning to acknowledge her. Jed introduced five waiters and waitresses, all in their twenties and reasonably attractive, and finally the middle-aged woman who stepped forward and stared blankly at Geraldine.
    ‘And last but not least,’ Jed concluded the introductions, ‘this is Ginny who comes in and cleans for us every morning before we open.’

     
    ‘Who’s going to be paying us for our time today?’ the cleaning lady demanded.
    Jed gave no sign that he had heard Ginny, so Geraldine looked around at all the assembled staff and thanked them again for coming to the restaurant to give their statements.
    ‘I realise it’s not terribly convenient for some of you, but this is going to save us time. And I’m sure you’re all keen to help further our investigation into the murders of Patrick Henshaw and George Corless.’

CHAPTER 35
     
    G eraldine wanted to speak to the chef first; it might be best to let him leave as early as possible. The cleaner was second on her list, as potentially the most obstreperous witness. She decided to see the manager last. Sam was talking to the waiting staff and Geraldine would question some of them herself if she finished her list first.

     
    The lofty chef strode into the office where Geraldine was conducting her interviews and glared down at her.
    ‘Mr Gilbert, please take a seat.’
    ‘I remain here standing.’
    ‘As you wish. Thank you for agreeing to co-operate with our enquiry –’
    ‘You say there is a choice for me?’
    Geraldine shrugged and launched into her questions. The chef gave brief factual responses in laboured English, and seemed offended by her suggestion that he might prefer to answer through the medium of a translator.
    ‘I speak seven language!’ he announced pompously. ‘My English, it is good as the next man. You will hear.’

     
    It was heavy going. For all her perseverance Geraldine learned only that Henshaw was a charming man, while Corless lacked any taste or manners.
    ‘This man has no sophistication. He is a primitive.’
    Probing, Geraldine discovered that there had been a falling-out over the menu.
    ‘My sauce,’ the chef pursed his lips. ‘My sauce are supreme. And this animal, he ask for ketchup on the table. Ketchup, in my restaurant? Never!’
    He shuddered.
    ‘For this insult truly he deserve to die. But it is not me. I do not dirty my hand so. I am not the hooligan. If I choose the kill, it will be with poison, and no one will suspect my food. Ha!’
    ‘And Patrick Henshaw?’
    ‘Ah, Mr Henshaw is always the gentleman. He understand the value of the chef. It is I, Henri Gilbert, make this restaurant famous in the world! You ask yourself, what it is, my sauce? But I do not give up the secret.’

     
    Much as Geraldine was enjoying his performance the chef wasn’t helping the investigation, and she forced the conversation away from Henri Gilbert’s cuisine, back to the murder of the two restaurant proprietors.
    ‘Mr Henshaw and Mr Corless have both been murdered. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted them both dead?’
    ‘Ah, that is the question I ask myself.’
    ‘And?’
    He shook his massive head then tapped the side of his nose with one finger.
    ‘Who is it takes the cuisine of Henri Gilbert now? Find the answer and you have it! The reviewer say to kill for the recipe of Henri Gilbert!’
    Geraldine suppressed a smile at the man’s egocentricity.
    ‘Do you think someone killed them so they could take over the restaurant?’
    It was the chef’s turn to shrug.
    ‘And the other reason can be what?’

     
    The cleaner entered the room in a huff, her blue overall sleeves pushed up to the elbow as though she was spoiling for a fight, while her small dark eyes gleamed with annoyance.
    ‘I asked Jed,