“Yeah, right. Once you see my butt squeezed into spandex you’ll wipe that smirk straight off your face.”
“I think your butt looks great, with or without spandex.”
“Are we really talking about my butt now?”
“You started it.”
“You started it. I think.”
They’d arrived on the second floor, and he checked his notebook. “Konrad Daines. Room twenty-four. Let’s see if Mr. Daines is home, shall we?”
They traversed the hallway, passing a woman vacuuming the red carpeted floor and another dumping a bunch of linen into a trolley. They stopped in front of Room 24 and Chase knocked on the door.
“Did you ever get that chef to give up his alibi?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact I did. Turns out he was over at another restaurant in the next town for an interview. Was so sick and tired of Niklaus Skad that he was going to quitFry Me for an Oyster and start work for the competition.”
“And he didn’t want to jeopardize his chances by blabbing about the interview.”
“Exactly. So that’s another suspect we can scratch from our list.”
Just then, the door swung open, and an irate-looking man stood in the doorway.“Yes? What do you want?”
Chase held up his badge.“Hampton Cove Police Department, Mr. Daines. Detective Kingsley and this is Odelia Poole, civilian consultant. May we come in?”
The man’s scowl instantly morphed into a look of concern. “Sure, sure. Is this about what happened the other night? My lawyer promised me he’d taken care of everything. That I was off the hook.”
They stepped into the room, and Odelia noticed how it was a lot nicer than Stacie Roebuck’s cramped quarters. There was a small foyer which opened up into a living room with an ocean view, a dining room and a kitchen. Two bedrooms led off the living room, one of which sported a four-poster bed.
The man led them into a salon and bade them take a seat. Odelia and Chase picked out a couple of chairs while Konrad settled himself on a settee.
“Actually we’re here to talk about the murder of Niklaus Skad,” Odelia said.
“Oh!” said the man. He was exactly as she remembered him fromChopped Liver. Barrel-chested with a tan even-featured face, bristly short hair, and keen eyes.
The show featured ten couples that were given the opportunity to open a pop-up restaurant. Undercover judges visited each restaurant and recorded their assessments, in no-holds-barred confession-cam style. Hidden cameras filmed the contestants as they responded to customer criticism and other crises. Tempers ran high, and when the teams reviewed their assessments at the end of each episode, typically lots of tears were shed and Kleenex doled out. The big prize was to open an actual restaurant.
“I take it you’re aware that Niklaus Skad was killed?” Chase asked.
“Of course. Yes, I heard about that,” said Konrad.
“You and Mr. Skad were competitors?” Odelia asked.
“Yes. Yes, we were. HisKitchen Disasters and myChopped Liver were scheduled in the same time slot. His on Fox and mine on NBC.”
“Is it true that your show was being axed at the end of its current season?” Odelia asked.
The man’s face darkened. “So you read about that, huh? Yeah, it’s true. It’s also the reason for my little… incident the other night.”
“Yes, let’s talk about that,” said Chase. “You said something about your lawyer promising you something? What’s that all about?”
“Oh, um…” He looked sheepish now. “I thought that’s why you guys were here. I had too much to drink and, well, I kinda passed out on the beach.”
“You passed out on the beach?” Chase asked, jotting down a note.
“Yes, that’s right. Right after I crashed Bill and Hillary’s party.”
“Bill and Hillary… as in Clinton?” asked Odelia, surprised.
Konrad heaved a deep sigh and settled back on the settee.“Not my finest hour, I must confess. You see, I’d just gotten the news about my show being canceled, and I wasn’t in the best of moods. But instead of staying in my room, like I probably should have, I decided to go out and party. A buddy of mine has a yacht in one of the marinas in East Hampton, so I dropped by for a drink. Our company moved to the beach and we polished off a few bottles of bubbly.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck.
“And then?” Chase prompted.
“And then things got kinda vague. I remember sitting by a campfire listening to some dude playing the guitar. Then some of the girls wanted to go skinny-dipping and asked me if I was game. And I guess I was, cause next thing I remember I woke up in a prison cell and some cop accused me of crashing Bill’s birthday party and making a nuisance of myself.” He shrugged. “What happened between the skinny-dipping and the Clintons I don’t know.”
“And this all happened the night Niklaus Skad was killed?” Odelia asked.
“Yeah, you can check with East Hampton police. I was in jail when Niklaus was killed. First thing I heard about it was when my lawyer came to bail me out in the morning.”
“I take it you and Mr. Skad didn’t get along?” Chase asked.
“No, we most definitely didn’t. That guy stole my idea. I was going to do a show calledKitchen Calamities. This was months before he pitchedKitchen Disasters to the networks. When I heard about it, I confronted him. He just laughed in my face. Said I shouldn’t have blabbed about the concept to everyone I knew.” He frowned. “Bastard didn’t even deny stealing my idea. And then of course it made him a fortune and a household name.”
It was obvious there was no love lost between the two celebrity chefs, but if his story about crashing the Clinton party was true, it would be easy to check. Which let him off the hook.“Do you have any idea who might have wanted to hurt Mr. Skad?” Odelia asked.
The man uttered a curt laugh.“Um, just about everybody? Niklaus wasn’t a well-liked man, Miss Poole. He made a lot of enemies over the years, and worst of all, he was proud of the fact. Always said that the number of enemies a man had showed how successful he was. He even bragged about how hated he was.”
Yep. That sounded about right.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Daines,” Chase finally said, after checking a few more things. “You’ve been most helpful.”
The chef stood and shook Chase’s hand. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t. Look, I know you have to find the killer—it’s your duty, after all—but let me tell you that most people you will talk to will tell you the same thing: they’re all happy Niklaus was killed. That man was evil, Detective. Pure evil.”
When they stepped from the room, Chase heaved a deep sigh.“So I guess that’s it then. Another suspect down. We don’t have any left.”
“Poor man. First Skad stole his million-dollar idea for a show, and then he went and got his own show canceled. He must have hated him so much.”
“Yeah, he’s the best suspect I’ve talked to so far. Physically he’s also perfect. He could easily have shoved Skad into that oven. And he was in town the night of the murder.”
“Pity he’s got an ironclad alibi.”
“Rock solid,” Chase agreed.
“So where does that leave us?”
“We’re still waiting on the final report from the coroner, but barring any surprises we’re pretty much out of moves here. I honestly don’t know who else could have done it.”
“You talked to the rest of the staff?”
“All of them. They all alibied out.”
“And no witnesses have come forward?”
“None. Which is weird, as someone must have seen something.”
They descended the stairs, and Odelia gave the interview some more thought. Chase was right. Konrad was the perfect suspect. And he was innocent.
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Detective Kingsley.”
He gave her a grimace.“So now suddenly it’s my investigation again, huh?”
“You are the detective. I’m just a consultant.”
He shook his head.“Round about now we could use some of those magic sleuthing powers your uncle claims you possess. Cause from where I’m standing things are starting to look pretty hopeless.”