A Cookbook Conspiracy by Kate Carlisle

thoroughly.
    —
The Cookbook of Obedience Green
    “Jeezo, Wainwright, I thought we were friends. Why you do me like this?”
    That was SFPD detective inspector Janice Lee’s smart-ass greeting to me as she strolled
     across the expansive restaurant dining room. She was followed by her partner, Nathan
     Jaglom, and two men carrying thick steel briefcases. The two guys were dressed more
     casually than the detectives, and I figured that with those fancy cases, they had
     to be the crime scene investigators.
    Four uniformed cops had walked in a minute earlier and had already scoped out the
     kitchen and Baxter’s body. Now they were securing the doors inside and out with yellow
     crime scene tape. Derek, Savannah, and I were corralled into the bar area and told
     to stay put.
    “I’m sorry, Inspector Lee,” I said, and meant it. After all, it was one o’clock in
     the morning. No wonder she looked less thanthrilled to be here. “It’s all my fault. I begged the dispatcher to call you guys
     because I know you’re the best.”
    I didn’t mention that she’d be less likely to think I was the killer if I actually
     asked for her.
    Lee paused to consider my words, then nodded. “True. We are the best. I admire your
     perceptiveness. But I can’t forgive you for interrupting the awesome
NCIS
marathon I was in the middle of.”
    “Sorry about that,” I said. “I can tell you how season two ends.”
    “But then I’d have to kill you.”
    “Inspector Lee, lovely to see you again,” Derek said as he approached and shook her
     hand.
    “Hello, Commander Stone,” Janice Lee said, her voice suddenly half an octave higher.
     Derek had that effect on all women, no matter how kick-ass tough they were.
    Derek turned to her partner. “Inspector Jaglom, how are you?”
    “Hey, there, Commander.” Inspector Jaglom lifted his chin in greeting. “Ms. Wainwright.
     How’re you doing?”
    “I’ve been better.” I shook his hand. “But it’s good to see you, Inspector.”
    “Yeah, you too.” Jaglom nodded absently as he took out his notepad and began to make
     notes. He rubbed his sleepy eyes with one hand and I felt another twinge of guilt.
     He wore a rumpled shirt under his sports coat and he looked like he’d been dragged
     out of bed, forced to cut short a good night’s sleep. Which was, no doubt, exactly
     what had happened, given the time of night.
    Because I paid attention to such things, I noticed that Inspector Lee had added a
     few more pounds since the last time I’d seen her. She was a beautiful woman, but she’d
     been painfully thin when we first met. Since then, she’d given up cigarettes and had
     begun to gain weight. She probably hated the weight gain, but she was tall enough
     to handle a few extra pounds. I thought she looked happier and even prettier than
     before. So much so that I wondered whether she might have a new boyfriend.
    She probably wouldn’t take kindly to me asking her if that was the case. Maybe I’d
     bring it up later.
    She looked around the room, taking in the coffered ceiling, the murals, the slate
     water wall, the glass-backed bar. Untying her fabulous Burberry trench coat, she draped
     it over the back of a barstool. “Nice place.”
    “Nice, yeah. Except for the pesky dead body that’s bleeding out on the kitchen floor,”
     I said gruffly.
    She cocked her head. “That’s sarcasm, right?”
    I sighed. “I suppose it is. Sorry.”
    “Don’t be. You almost sounded like a cop there for a minute.” She sniffled and patted
     her chest dramatically. “You make me so darn proud.”
    I shook my head. “You’re a strange woman, Inspector Lee.”
    She bared her teeth in a grin. “You betcha.”
    Homicide inspector Janice Lee had been a part of my world ever since the Abraham Karastovsky
     murder. She’d also been assigned to investigate the Layla Fontaine murder last year
     at the Bay Area Book Arts center, where I’d been teaching a bookbinding class. And
     then