Life Without Parole: A Kate Conway Mystery by Clare O'Donohue Page A

camera, shooting from all angles as Walt worked, cooking a dozen or more different things, which he then plated in tiny portions on large white dishes.
    “This portion is just for the tasting?” I asked.
    “No, this is how we’re going to serve it. Portion size has gotten totally out of control, and the mark of a great restaurant, I think, is to give you great taste, not bust the button on your pants.”
    He took a forkful of a rice dish and fed it to me. It was tender, with just enough bite and a mix of flavors I couldn’t identify, both savory and sweet. When I swallowed I could see Walt was waiting for approval.
    “It’s good,” I said. “But it just makes me want more.”
    “You can have as much as you like. You know the chef.” He smiled. It was warm and sweet.
    “I don’t think I could get in this place once it opens,” I said. “I keep hearing how it’s for the cool people.”
    “You’re cool.”
    “No, I’m not.”
    He laughed. “Sure you are.”
    Victor stepped in. “She’s really not. She thinks a hot dog is gourmet food.”
    Walt shrugged. “If it’s from Superdawg, it is.”
    “I love that place,” I said. “I haven’t been there in forever.”
    “I’ll get you one with everything,” Walt said, “or you can go with me, and we’ll do the drive-in. Nothing tastes better than a hot dog brought to your car.” He laughed. “A bribe so you’ll make me look good on the show.”
    “You’re already in the running to be cast as ‘the nice one,’” I admitted.
    He chuckled. “Not exactly a tough race. Except Vera. She’s sweet. And Erik is cool. He may be a bit pretentious, but his heart’s in the right place.”
    “What about Roman and Ilena?”
    Walt glanced toward the camera. “I met Roman about three years ago. I starting working in a restaurant he liked, and he took a special interest in me. He’s a good guy, certainly knows the restaurant scene. He wanted me to work for him then but I couldn’t leave because of my contract.”
    “Until it burned down.”
    Walt raised an eyebrow. “Yeah,” he said. “That kind of freed me up for this.”
    “How did that fire start?”
    “I don’t know. It was after hours.”
    “Was it arson?”
    Walt’s eyes widened. “Could have been. Could have been electrical, or started by something left on in the kitchen. Restaurants catch on fire. Roman had a place burn down years ago. It happens.”
    “I didn’t knowthat. Do you know what caused that fire?”
    “Nope. A guy went to Pontiac prison for it, so I guess arson, but I don’t know the details.”
    “Maybe Roman did it. He’s got quite a temper. We had a little demonstration of it earlier.”
    Walt tried to laugh it off, but he looked a little worried. “He’s all talk.” He was looking toward Andres, looking for an escape. I doubted I could get more from him while the cameras rolled. I changed tactics.
    “Why are you going into business with these guys?” I asked. “You seem an odd bunch, if you ask me.”
    “Roman approached me with the promise of carte blanche in the kitchen,” he said. “To create a restaurant from the ground up, I think that’s every chef’s dream. When you go into an established place, there are menus already in place, expectations from customers and critics. But this”—he looked around the kitchen—“is a blank canvas. This is mine, and I want to do something really special with it.”
    He looked around the room with a dreamy smile. It looked like a mess to me, but I could see that in his eyes, it was already perfect.

    After the interview, the investors dusted off the bar and used it as a makeshift table. They huddled around it, taking a spoonful from each dish as Walt explained why it would fit into the place. Doug seemed a little lost, so I assumed he wasn’t a food guy, and Roman kept checking his BlackBerry, but Ilena and Erik were really into the tasting. They asked questions with every dish and made annoying comments like, “it