Turn up the Heat

teased.
    “Get that look off your face.” But I couldn’t help smiling. “I really wasn’t mad at you. I was just disappointed to hear what you guys had to say last night. But everything that was said just goes to point out what rational beings women are. And frankly, Digger’s comments, especially, reflect badly on the male species. I just think it would be responsible of you to do your part to change the culinary world’s attitude toward women, at least in your kitchen. Be a role model.”
    “Chloe, seriously. Right now, I am doing everything I can just to keep this place running!”
    His tone of voice told me that I’d chosen a bad time to enjoin him to stand up for women’s rights. My face fell.
    “God, I’m sorry. Come here,” he wrapped his arms around me. “You’re right. You are. I’m swamped right now. That’s all. Snacker just got here, and Javier doesn’t come in until this afternoon, and I really need those extra hands today. That’s no excuse, but I’ve got so much going through my head all the time. I’m going to work on it, though, I promise. It’s important.”
    I hugged him back. “It’s okay. And thank you.”
    “I love you.”
    “I love you, too.”
    Josh kissed the top of my head. “Let’s go in. Be prepared. It’s going to be a madhouse back there soon, so I don’t know how much you’ll get out of these people.”
    We stepped into the kitchen. Santos was sweating over the stove, where he was stirring steaming vats of a highly seasoned broth. Isabelle was at one of the stainless counters working on vegetables. Snacker was on the phone rolling his eyes and looking exasperated. Wade, Kevin, Blythe, and several servers I didn’t know were rushing in and out of the kitchen.
    “Why are things so nuts today?” I asked Josh.
    “This is what happens when you reopen. Everything has to be prepped again, and we’re still getting more orders in. Belita and her assistants just showed up. Don’t ask me why they’re late. The waitstaff is here early because that party that we canceled the day Leandra died is now coming in tonight, and that has to be perfect, so they’re making sure everything is in shape. And the patio should be booming for lunch and—”
    “Breathe!” I interrupted him. “Why isn’t Javier here yet?”
    “What? Yeah, I don’t have time to breathe today. And Javier isn’t scheduled to work until later in the day because I’ll catch hell from Gavin for my labor cost, and he’s already pissed at me over my food cost. Anyhow, good luck with your memory book.”
    “Perhaps you’d like to be the first to give me something for the book?” I said wistfully.
    Josh sighed. “Sure. Give me the paper.”
    I handed over a page, and Josh snapped it into his clipboard. I remained silent for a moment, desperately hoping no one would need him for sixty seconds.
    “There you go,” he said, returning his page.
    “That’s it?”
    Josh had written all of four words: “Leandra will be missed. ”
    “I’m sure someone will miss her,” he insisted. "I’m not going to lie on a memorial page! I’m sorry she was murdered, really I am, but I can’t honestly say that I’m going to miss her. Here, I’ll add more.” Josh grabbed his page back.
    “She was a hard worker who interacted energetically with her fellow employees. ”
    “That sounds like she was doing calisthenics with everyone!” I complained.
    “Take it or leave it, kiddo.” Josh shrugged his shoulders.
    I growled. “I’m going to find someone who has something nice to say about this poor girl.”
    “I love you for your optimism. I have to talk to Isabelle.”
    “She better not be peeling carrots or sculpting cantaloupes all day!” I warned him as he walked over to her station.
    Josh’s written comments did not bode well for my assignment.
    Aha! Belita, the cleaning woman I’d spoken with the other day, crossed the kitchen and went into the dining area. She might be able to give me something about Leandra. With luck, it would be something positive. Belita, after all, hadn’t worked directly with Leandra.
    Waving my papers above my head, I scurried into the dining room. “Belita! Belita!”
    She turned to me and put down her bucket and mop. “Oh, hola, Chloe.” She smiled warmly and then brushed some straggly hair from her face.
    “Por favor, could I talk to you?”
    Si, okay,” she said, nodding. “I so honest, you know? Not like some of these others here!” She gestured to the