Free Death on a Platter by Elaine Viets Page A

slightly with the buttons.
    “No, you didn’t sit,” Josie said. “You helped Tillie when she needed you. That’s hard work.”
    “Helped, my eye,” Jane said. “Tillie was arrested anyway.”
    Josie felt sick. She and Alyce had watched Tillie kill Clay. His death had been an accident, but Clay was never going to be in the bar again. That made it worse for Tillie.
    “The police took Tillie away in a squad car like a criminal,” Jane said. “At least they didn’t handcuff her.”
    “She’s in jail?” Josie asked.
    “Her lawyer got her out on bail. Lorena and I had to go to the bail bondsman’s place. It was a nasty little office full of criminals. They had tattoos and bad teeth. One had his beard braided.”
    “He might have been a biker, Mom. Some of them braid their beards so the long hair doesn’t blow in their faces when they ride.”
    “Well, Tillie doesn’t belong in a group with braided beards. We got her a bail of one thousand dollars. We had to pay one hundred to the bondsman and put up a thousand in collateral. The bail bondsman took the title to Tillie’s new Cadillac. He said an old lady was a safe bet.
    “I got mad and said she wasn’t old. She’s only seventy-six. That’s my age.” Jane stuck out her jaw in a gesture of defiance. She looked as tough as a teddy bear.
    Josie fought to hide a smile. She’d learned not to underestimate her mother. “I don’t think of you as old, Mom—or Tillie, either. She has to be strong to work those long hours in that restaurant. Who is her lawyer?”
    “Some character called Renzo Fischer,” Jane said. “Tillie says he’s an old customer.”
    “Good,” Josie said. “He’s the best.”
    “At what? Eating ravioli?” Jane was still wound up. “He looked odd to me. Tillie called him as soon as she heard that Clay was in a bad way. Mr. Fischer came over to her house an hour later. I know that’s a nice thing for a big deal lawyer to do. He talked to Tillie before the police arrived and advised her to give herself up, which she was going to do anyway. I hope he doesn’t charge her for that advice.”
    “Can Tillie afford him, Mom?” Josie asked. “Did Renzo want her to mortgage the restaurant?”
    “That was the first question out of Lorena’s mouth. That girl is useless, even if she is Tillie’s daughter. No, Mr. Fischer wouldn’t hear of her mortgaging anything. He said he expected to eat free there for the rest of his life.”
    “Then he’d better live to be a very old man,” Josie said. “Good defense lawyers aren’t cheap. Renzo sounds like a good guy. What’s wrong with him?”
    “I don’t like his looks,” Jane said. “He dresses like a clown in cowboy boots, a string tie, and a ten-gallon hat. This is St. Louis, not the Wild West.”
    “He’s an old-school trial lawyer, Mom. They’re theatrical. They dress for a part. Renzo has cast himself as John Wayne riding in on his white horse to save innocent clients. Juries love Renzo. He’s different from the dull corporate lawyers in suits. Renzo will make the jury root for Tillie. If anyone can save her, he can.”
    “I hope so, Josie. I can’t believe the way she’s being treated. Everybody in St. Louis knows Tillie. She’s fed the police for years. None of them died from her food, not even the ones who wanted her sauce extra hot. Now the cops have turned on her.”
    “They’re doing their job,” Josie said. “If they gave her special treatment, it could be worse for her. Do the cops know what killed Clay?”
    “No,” Jane said. “It’s too early for the autopsy results.”
    “Too bad Tillie said she wanted rid of Clay,” Josie said. She heard Ted moving around in the kitchen.
    “You didn’t tell the police Tillie said that, did you?” Jane asked.
    “I had to,” Josie said. “The whole restaurant heard her. The police wouldn’t have believed me if I didn’t mention it. But I also told the detective that Chef Jeff wanted his job back and Tillie