Page 11 of So Bleak

“Then you haven’t cleared anyone yet.”

Howard frowned. “Not officially, no, but we’re pretty damned sure.”

“Details matter, detective,” Faith said, “and pretty damned sure isn’t as good as certain.”

Howard sighed theatrically. “You want me to call everyone back? We got their numbers.”

“Not yet,” she said, “I just wanted to point out that if it is poison, the food is the most likely vector, and that means that the most likely killer is an employee of this restaurant. The second most likely killer is a fellow diner.”

“Excellent detective work, agent,” Howard said irritably.

Michael glared at him. “Are we going to have problems with you detective?”

Howard chuckled bitterly. “No, sir. But if you get to just point things out, then I want to just point out that I’ve been doing this for thirty years. If you think you need to consider everyone a suspect, go ahead. But the staff here aren’t responsible for Harold Grimes’s death. Call it a hunch.”

“Those are valid sometimes,” Faith allowed. “And Grimes was pronounced dead at the scene?”

“Oh yeah. Lights went out within a minute.”

“Got it. I know the coroner’s report isn’t official yet, but is there anything you can tell us about it?”

“You know as much as I know. We’re guessing poison since there was nothing lodged in his throat, but it could also have been an allergy that popped up out of nowhere. His throat closed up, and there were other symptoms of anaphylactic shock. So allergies were probably a part of it, but there were a lot of other symptoms that make it seem like… I forget what the M.E. called it.”

“A sodium channel blocker?” Michael asked.

“Yeah, that’s it. A sodium channel blocker. Hell if I know what that means.”

“We might want to look that up later,” Michael said to Faith.

“We’ll ask the coroner too,” Faith agreed. To Howard, she said, “The chef is here?”

“Yeah, he’s in the back.”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Sure thing.”

“I’ll look over the scene out here and see if I find anything,” Michael said.

Faith gave him a thumbs up and followed Howard to the back of the restaurant. Behind the counter, things were entirely businesslike. The sushi bar retained a few decorative elements, but the main kitchen was a thoroughly modern stainless-steel marvel that looked like the kitchen of any number of restaurants. It was strangely refreshing to see the homogeneous, unadorned workspace after being assaulted with the clashing décor out front.

The chef was a short, fit Japanese man of around fifty with gray hair and a short, perfectly manicured goatee. He stood and bowed stiffly to Faith. “Good afternoon, Special Agent. Please accept my sincere apology for what happened here last night.”

Faith wasn’t sure if she should bow in return or not, so she settled on a nod. “Thank you, Mister…

“Ito.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ito. Can you tell me what happened last night?”

He bowed slightly once more and said, “Mr. Grimes arrived at eight in the evening. He was seated by Fumiko and was served our traditional refreshment of edamame, spring water and jasmine tea, all of which were prepared by my hand. He ordered a selection of items from our menu, and—”

“Forgive me for interrupting. What items?”

“I can answer for you if you’d like, however, Mr. Grimes expired prior to receiving any of his other food.”

“Ah. In that case, please continue.”

He bowed again and said, “Fumiko noticed a disturbance when Mr. Grimes stood abruptly and began demonstrating signs of choking. Chef Daisuke immediately set his knife down and moved to assist Mr. Grimes, as he is trained in CPR and first aid. Mr. Grimes began to panic and rushed away from his table. I arrived in the lobby at this time and observed him appearing to solicit help from our staff and diners.”

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