Page 32 of Wham Line
Talmage shifted in her seat at the question, and she glanced over automatically to the bar, where Sparkie was eatingmyfish and chips.“She’s a narcissist, and he’s a deeply unhappy man who has channeled his own failings into a career picking away at other people’s success—like most critics.Is that what you mean?”
I burst out laughing.
Talmage’s eyebrows went up again.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t expect—I’m a writer, and you have no idea how often I’ve had some version of that thought.”
Some of the tension seemed to go out of her.“Right?”
“At least you don’t have to deal with agents.”
She gave a small laugh.“I think restaurateurs might be worse.”
Tilting my head toward the bar, I said, “They seemed pretty close the other night.But today, they had some kind of spat.”
Talmage absently smoothed a hand over the tablecloth; the gesture made me think of Indira, and how she had straightened the silverware.“I don’t know if they’re close,” she finally said.“But they go way back.They’ve both been on the scene for a long time, and Seattle didn’t use to be so big.Someone told me they even worked together at some point.”
“Is that true?”
“No idea.”
I filed it away for future consideration.“Do you know what Sparkie and Larry might have been arguing about?”
“Money,” Talmage said dryly.“Sparkie’s probably trying to get Larry to invest in her stupid mushroom idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Farm-to-table mushrooms.Everything’s mushrooms.God, I think she wants to have the restaurant be on the farm, and the diners go out and pick their own mushrooms, clean them, that kind of thing.It’s a whole experience.She wouldn’t let up about it with Mal.”
“What did Mal think?”
“Mal likes other people to take the risks,” Talmage said with a strange little smile.
That seemed like as close to an opening as I was going to get.“I heard a few stories about Mal.About—about his business practices, I guess.For lack of a better term.”
Talmage stilled in her chair.
“I was wondering if you’d tell me about Mizzenmast,” I said.“How it’s incorporated, what kind of financing you had to get, how Mal fit into the picture—”
“No.”
It wasn’t silence, because the din of silverware and voices and a shrill, drunken giggle made the air sharp.
“Um, please?”
“I’m not stupid.I know what you’re trying to do.Those other restaurants—I know.I didn’t kill Mal, and I’m not going to help you frame me.”
“I’m not trying to frame you.”
“I don’t know Ms.Singh.I never met her.I feel sorry for her, and I think what Mal did to her was awful.I didn’t know about that until—until later.But from what I can tell, she’s the one who had a reason to want Mal dead, and the sheriff seems to think the same thing.”Some of the sting went out of her voice as she added, “I know you’re trying to help your friend.”
“I’m trying to understand what’s going on.Mal had a history of shady business dealings that left a lot of chefs in the dust while he stole their hard work; those are facts.And last night, when you and Mal were arguing, you said, ‘This is my restaurant.’So, I think it makes sense to ask you what you meant—”
“No,” Talmage said and stood.
“You can either talk to me about it or to the sheriff.”
“Then I’ll talk to the sheriff,” she said.“When my lawyer tells me to.”She turned to go, and then she whirled toward me.She gripped the back of the chair until her knuckles went white.“I’m not the only one who argued with Mal, just so you know.Mal argued with everyone.He and Larry got into a huge fight yesterday—why aren’t you asking Larry if he killed Mal?Jethro was there; he heard the whole thing.”
