Free Cooking the Books by Kerry Greenwood

unadulterated with that fiery oil. Ethan clearly had not been introduced to the idea that chilli oil was a condiment, not a food group. I wrinkled my nose at the smell. He grinned.
    With both hands holding the tray I could not scratch and I did not want to sneeze on the toast so I set it down and turned to go back for more. I caught Ethan squeezing something in his pocket. I checked. Not anything indelicate. A box-shaped thing. He cocked his handsome head as though listening. I couldn’t hear anything but the usual babble. Ms Atkins, I assumed, was in her cubicle. With, I also assumed, Emily. The rising young star. Poor child. I could not see her rising any time soon. As soon as she stuck her head up she would be firmly suppressed by her mentor. Toast. I went back for more.
    Bernie was surveying her crispy filo rolls with great pleasure. I enlisted her to carry more provender and we were busy for half an hour. Tommy was mediating the mayonnaise row. It seemed that a humble server had seen the eggs left out on the bench and had ignorantly put them away. He had thought he was being helpful. He was now being firmly disabused of this notion and was almost in tears.
    Kitchens. They are a stringent arena. I sighted Kylie and Goss picking at some eggs. Good. They had to eat something in preparation for a long day’s work. Tash the director was ploughing through a mound of bacon and poached eggs as though stoking a boiler.
    ‘Filming today,’ said Harrison, taking a mouthful of kedgeree. ‘That’s why everyone is on edge, Corinna. Pepper, please.’
    ‘I’ve got a question,’ I said, passing him the ground pepper.
    ‘I am at Madam’s service.’ He bowed slightly.
    ‘Why doesn’t Tash replace Ethan, if he and Ms Atkins are such bad friends?’
    ‘Oh, the hard ones first,’ he quoted The Goons . ‘Well, dear, it’s a matter of filthy lucre. Big money is backing Ethan because he’s the flavour of the month. Without Ethan, no show. And Molly hasn’t had all that many offers lately.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She’s getting on a bit, even for a superbitch. Though she does seem to be channelling the ageless Joan Collins. Therefore, she stays even though she despises Ethan and he stays because this is his big chance. Do have some of this kedgeree, it’s excellent,’ he added in a louder tone as Ethan heaved into his orbit.
    ‘Good idea,’ I told him, and picked up a plate for myself. There were lots of leftovers and the actors and crew were beginning to drift away. I was eating pleasantly when Molly Atkins emerged from her dressing room. She was perfect, down to the unchipped scarlet claws and the perfection of her shoes. I could not imagine how she could walk in them. Stiletto heels. Bright red, of course. Ethan gulped down the last of his breakfast and grinned at her. It was not a charming grin. She noticed him, stiffened, was about to deliver a blistering rebuke and then—didn’t. At her heels scuttled Emily, looking harassed.
    Odd, but, like the mayonnaise, not my problem. Back to the kitchen, Corinna.
    Tash called ‘Ten minutes!’ and the film day began.
    Mine was ending. I was pleased. I tasted one of my spanakopita, and then, on Bernie’s insistence, one of her mushroom ones. Perfect. Crispy and tasty. I said so. Bernie beamed. Time to leave on a high note. I left.
    Home again. The couch contained Horatio, drowsing, and the bed contained Daniel, sleeping. I know when I’m licked. I took off my baker’s clothes, put on my gown, and joined them in a small refreshing nap.
    Afternoon declared itself with a shaft of light through the curtains. I rose slowly. Daniel was cutting a baguette in preparation for lunch. I really wasn’t hungry. I watched him make a salade Niçoise and ate a token mouthful or two. Then another, because I love anchovies. So does Horatio. Those furry fish are so tasty.
    ‘How was your night?’ I asked.
    ‘Good. I’ve got three names. The trouble is that everyone in that