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could hear the disgust in his voice. Apparently, there was no supervision on the dishwasher.
    â€œYou have a problem with that, James? The dishwasher?”
    â€œI don’t know. He said any new hire would have to work theentire operation to get a feel for how it goes. I get that. You need to know how the kitchen works. But I get the distinct feeling that I’m just decoration.”
    I rolled my eyes and drained my black coffee. “James, think this through. You are a detective, for God’s sake. Give me a break. Why should they be interested in your culinary skills. He wants someone to find out if the kitchen staff was responsible for Amanda’s death. That’s the job.”
    â€œSkip, I’m aware of that. Still,” James smiled at me over his cup of latte, “it would be nice to be appreciated for my cooking talent.”
    â€œWhich, I will admit, is considerable. At least all the great meals I’ve had the pleasure to taste.”
    He nodded, almost taking his bow.
    â€œBut, interning for three months at a two-star restaurant and being a line cook at Cap’n Crab hardly qualifies you for running the kitchen at L’Elfe.” Michael Trump, the chef at Jack’s Half Shell, had actually liked James, and if I remembered correctly, he had bestowed upon him a kitchen knife that James had treasured. Maybe Trump had given him the present just to get rid of him. That also was a strong possibility.
    We were both quiet, watching the patrons and the baristo as he blended the ingredients for the customers, his eyes glazed over like a robot.
    Finally, James spoke, stating the obvious.
    â€œSomebody in the kitchen could be a murderer.”
    â€œYou think? That’s the point of your hire.”
    James nodded and I saw one of the cute servers glancing his way. She smiled when she caught me looking at her.
    â€œAnd if they think that I’m checking them out, if his staff realizes that I’m looking for a potential suspect—”
    It was my turn to nod. “You could be in trouble.”
    â€œYes, I could.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two sheets of paper. “We’ve been in some serious trouble before, Skip.”
    We had.
    â€œThis sheet of paper is for you, the duplicate I’ll hang onto.”
    Staring at the list, I saw names and titles.
    â€œThese are the suspects, Skip. This is the staff. If we can clear them all, we’ve done our job. If we suspect any one of them, I guess we follow that hunch. Let’s hope that they all come out squeaky clean.”
    Names and titles. No personalities. A brief note as to how long each one of them had worked at the establishment. Nothing about relationships any of them may have had with Amanda Wright. Relationships were going to be our responsibility. James would have to find a way to ask some very sensitive questions.
    He looked at me, hands flat on the table. “And what are you and the lovely Em doing all this time?”
    â€œFollowing up leads on the outside.”
    â€œGive me an example.”
    I thought for a moment. “Okay, you come to me and say you’re suspicious of a commis or an expediter and—”
    â€œWhoa.” James leaned back, giving me an admiring look. “What do you know about a commis or expediter? You’re this guy who yesterday didn’t know what the hell a sous chef was.”
    â€œThis guy is paying us three grand a week, James. I figured I’d better get familiar with his world.”
    A commis is a chef in training. An expediter takes the order from the waitstaff, relays it to the different stations in the kitchen, sometimes puts the finishing garnish on the plate, and gets it back to the dining room. At least I think that’s what these two people do.
    I saw James’s face light up as he sipped the coffee. “I think I’ve got it right, pardner. Let’s see if I can remember