Free Grilled for Murder by Maddie Day Page B

some bread to start?”
    The waiter gave a thumbs-up as he collected my menu, then turned away.
    I leaned in toward Jim. “Who ever heard of mashed potatoes and gumbo?” I asked him.
    He grinned. “People from Indiana, that’s who.” He tasted the beer in a full pint glass. “Man, this is good. Want a taste?”
    â€œNo, thanks. Beer doesn’t go so well with Pinot Noir.” I sipped my wine. “I’m surprised I’ve never been to this restaurant before. Although I think I might have met one of the chefs when I cooked at the Nashville Inn.” I’d been chef at the inn for three years, cooking and saving as much money as I could to open my own place. I gazed at him. “I heard some bad news this afternoon. The police took Phil in for questioning about the murder.”
    â€œPhil?” His eyebrows went halfway up to his red hair.
    â€œMy reaction, exactly.” I shook my head. “They totally have it wrong. Luckily, Adele called later on and told me Samuel had hired a really good lawyer. The police let Phil go. Or Octavia did, more likely.”
    Jim looked away as if studying the bar running the length of the room behind me. He rubbed his thumb over his fingernails as he always did when he was thinking.
    I watched him, my radar activated. “So how do you know Octavia?”
    He looked at me. “We dated for a while. In our twenties, so ten years ago or so.”
    Aha. “Nothing wrong with that. But you seem kind of, I don’t know, like there’s more to the story.”
    â€œThere is.” He sipped his beer, looking anywhere but at me. “But I don’t want to talk about it now, if it’s okay with you.”
    The waiter returned with a basket holding a sliced baguette and a little dish of butter. I buttered a piece and took a bite, savoring the crusty, chewy loaf. What had gone on with him and Octavia he didn’t want to talk about?
    â€œSo who do you think would have killed Erica?” I asked after a couple of minutes of neither of us speaking, only chewing and sipping in silence.
    Jim finally glanced at me with a look of relief like he’d been rescued from circling sharks. “Good question. There was the flare-up with Tiffany Porter, but I don’t know why she would have killed Erica for stealing from her.”
    â€œWhat about somebody from Chicago? I was thinking about Jon,” I said, reaching across the table for his hand. “Maybe somebody from their life up there had a grudge against Erica.”
    He gazed across the room and then back at me. He squeezed my hand before letting it go. “Interesting idea. I’m not sure how to find out. I was at their wedding, of course, but so were two hundred other people. They held it at the Story Inn, four years ago.” He smiled as if at the memory. “What a day that was. Perfect June weather. Her family rented the whole place for the weekend. Have you ever been there?”
    â€œI’ve eaten in the restaurant a couple of times but never stayed in one of the rooms.” The Story General Store, now an inn, was in the little town of Story, south of Nashville, and the business had bought up all the buildings in the town center.
    â€œThey also rent out the cottages on the property, not only the ones above the dining room,” Jim said. “I heard it was a couple of dropped-out grad students who originally bought the store and fixed it up, and then gradually turned it into an inn serving gourmet dinners.”
    â€œThat’s right. The decor inside gave me some ideas for my store and restaurant. I’m actually hoping to renovate the upstairs rooms in my building for my own bed-and-breakfast. If I ever find the time.”
    â€œThat’s a good idea. I remember you said that when you made the offer on the property. Anyway, some of Jon and Erica’s Chicago friends came down and stayed in a couple of the cottages. Erica was high