Page 73 of The Bookshop of Forbidden Books

But the peace was short-lived. There was a sound behind her. She turned around. The inspector had just walked into the restaurant, sizing her up with an unfriendly gaze.

“Do you believe in God?” he asked, his arrogance as natural as breathing.

“No,” she repeated coolly, “but sometimes I wish I believed in hell. Some people deserve to spend eternity there. I’ve been told I’m too optimistic.”

“I’m not a churchgoer myself,” he said. “But now I’m reconsidering my belief in the mysteries of faith. I’ve had a little miracle of my own, you see.”

“Well, I’ve got a menu to finish, staff to recruit, and kitchen equipment to familiarize myself with, so if you could spare me your biblical sentiments and get to the point, you’ll save us all some time.”

“Not a bad place,” the inspector commented, as if she hadn’t spoken, looking around. “Nice décor. Tasteful. Let’s hope you do as good a job in the kitchen. Unless…”

He ran his tongue over his teeth as if trying to dislodge a trapped peanut skin. The moist sound was unbearable.

“Classy,” Anna commented dryly. “May I offer you a toothpick?”

He ignored her. “So, you trained at Aux Trois Cousins, huh?”

“I was a server there. I wasn’t in the kitchen.”

“And after that?”

“I went to train with a chef—”

“Funny,” the detective cut in. “Word is you got along real well with that sous-chef you worked with—”

“Gossip can be misleading. I told you: I was front of house, not back. Waitress, not cook.”

“Then you must have known Commissioner Jabert.”

“He was a regular customer back then. Had his own personal table.”

“We had over three hundred diners a day. Aux Trois Cousins had a lot of regulars back then. I’m sure it still does.”

“Perhaps. Let’s hope fewer of them are dying of food poisoning. It’s kind of curious, don’t you think? Jabert dies suddenly, and, not long after, you pack up and disappear to the other side of the world. Sounds like a pretty hasty exit to me…”

Anna held her breath. She’d turned as green as the wild asparagus.

“And now,” the inspector continued smugly, “here we are again. Prosecutor Salinas dies – poisoned – and the prime suspect is your lover. Just an unfortunate coincidence, I’m sure. But still, on the eve of your restaurant’s grand opening, and two people connected to you dying from poison… well, speaking of gossip, if that got around it might make people think twice about sampling your cooking.” He put a hand on Anna’s shoulder.

“Touch me again and you’ll regret it,” she snapped, pulling away.

“What, are you going to poison me too?” the man drawled, putting his hands in his pockets.

Anna was finding his arrogance more and more unsettling. She was starting to see exactly where this was headed.

“You know, the circumstances of Commissioner Jabert’s death have never been explained. Maybe I should take another look, seeing as he was a colleague and all. Unless…” he said, for the second time.

Anna pretended not to understand what he was insinuating.

“Anyone can make a mistake. Let’s just imagine, for instance, that you weren’t actually with your bookseller boyfriend the day the prosecutor got killed. If you were willing to admit that, well… maybe I’d forget everything I’ve learned about you. Why don’t you sleep on it? I’ll give you until tomorrow.”

With a predatory smile, the detective took his leave.

In the walk-in fridge, Mitch slowly eased the door shut, waited a few beats, then opened it again.

“I think this is everything,” he said, setting a full crate down on the counter.

Anna turned to face him, struggling to hide the rage coursing through her veins. That rage, she knew it all too well. It reminded her of another night, long ago, outside Aux Trois Cousins. She went to the sink and washed her hands with the rough side of a sponge, scrubbing so fiercely that the skin turned pink and raw.