Turn up the Heat

and appointing court dates. Yes, social work was the route for me! I might even begin to apply California’s method immediately in my efforts to elicit positive memories of Leandra: You may think that you have nothing nice to say, but you could choose to put aside your residual hatred for the deceased and be a better person by digging deep and remembering Leandra's better qualities. The choice is yours.
    I slept well that night in spite of a convoluted dream in which I was carrying a monstrous picket sign outside Simmer while simultaneously chanting, “Hell no, we won’t go!” and stuffing my face full of foie gras. In the morning, I took a steaming shower, blew my hair straight, flatironed it until I smelled burning hair, and slugged down a cup of coffee. Then I checked my e-mail, my phone, and my cell for contributions to the memory book. Nothing. I hoped that if I ever had the misfortune to turn up dead in a fish truck, there’d be more material in my memory book than what I had for Leandra’s. Here it was, Saturday, with the memorial service only two days away, and the only memory I had so far was Josh’s forgettable one, and two uses of the word bitch. I resolved that I’d make one last pleading attempt to elicit memories from Simmer’s staff. If the effort failed, I’d just have to invent recollections and sign them Anonymous. I couldn’t bear to think of Gavin opening the memory book only to see blank pages or, worse, pages filled with stories of Leandra’s horrible behavior.
    Later that morning, determined to complete the memory book to my own and Gavin’s satisfaction, I showed up at Simmer. When I was still in the dining area, even before I swung open the door to the kitchen, I could hear Josh yelling. I entered his domain just in time to see him dump a container of stainless whisks and ladles on to the floor, thus creating a metallic clatter that echoed off the walls. “Why don’t you take these, too? Go ahead!” He was screaming at nobody in particular. “Take whatever the hell you want! It’s not my restaurant, right?” Josh tossed his hands up in the air and looked around the room at his staff. Isabelle, Santos, and Javier were visibly shaken, but Snacker was trying to hold back a smile.
    Josh caught my eye and dropped his hands. “I’m taking a break outside.” He went into Simmer’s back alley to cool off.
    I’d heard many rumors about Josh’s temper but had rarely witnessed it myself. From what I’d heard, he’d calmed down quite a bit in the past few years. Before that, he’d been prone to explosions. Josh attributed his outbursts to a passion for his work and a desire for perfection in the kitchen. I appreciated and respected his dedication, but I still didn’t buy it as an excuse for throwing utensils.
    I asked Isabelle what was going on. “I guess that some pieces of expensive cooking equipment are missing. Josh is upset. Obviously.”
    “What’s missing? Does he think someone stole them?”
    “A mandoline slicer and a really nice eight-inch chinois, which is like a strainer that we use for filtering stocks and sauces.” In spite of my anger that the equipment had been stolen, I loved hearing Isabelle show off what she’d learned. “Also, a stick blender and Josh’s favorite knife, a Wüsthof chef’s knife. At least that’s what he’s noticed so far. He knew about the blender and the mandoline a few days ago, but he just noticed the other things, and he’s freaking out. And yes, he definitely thinks someone stole them. And I’m afraid he probably thinks it’s me because of my past.”
    I tried to reassure her. “I’m sure he doesn’t think it’s you. He’s just really upset right now. He was generally yelling at the world, not at you.”
    “I didn’t take anything, but I know who did, Chloe,” Isabelle practically whispered.
    “You do? Who?”
    Isabelle leaned in close to me. “Blythe.”
    “What? Why on earth would Blythe be stealing this random stuff? What does she need a chinois for?”
    “It’s awful, but she’s selling the stuff on eBay. Stuff that she’s stealing from Gavin! After everything he put up with from Leandra, now he’s got people stealing kitchen equipment!”
    “How do you know she’s selling all these things on eBay?”
    “Josh lets me use the computer in his office sometimes to check my e-mail. I don’t have a computer of my own, but when I started here, he offered to let me use his if I wanted. I’d never had