Gourmet Detective by Peter King

“Anything else?”
    His eyes widened. “Isn’t that enough?”
    I let out a sigh of relief that rustled the unpaid bills on my desk. At the same time, I coughed to hide the sigh of relief and the combination wasn’t pleasant. I didn’t care. He didn’t know! He didn’t know about Raymond or about Oiseau Royal! I felt ten years younger and was so pleased that I said genially, “And what do you want me to do?”
    François smiled for the first time since he had been in my office. “I knew you’d accept the assignment. Only a man with your detailed knowledge of food and restaurants could take it on. I want you to find out who is trying to put me out of business and why.”
    I had put my foot in the trifle and no mistake. I tried to backtrack hastily. “Ordinarily I would be delighted to help you but as I said I’m very busy right now—”
    He went on as if he had not heard me. “The first question you’re going to ask me is if I have any ideas on who might be behind this—well, I don’t. I have competitors naturally—”
    I was so elated at being off the hook that I went boldly where I might not otherwise have gone. “Raymond in particular?”
    He said nothing for a moment. He looked at his knuckles. They looked scarred and formidable from where I was sitting and I was glad he was here as a restaurateur looking for help rather than as an ex-prizefighter disgruntled at having his pet recipe taken from under his nose.
    â€œIt’s no secret that Raymond and I are competitors.”
    â€œRivals, would you say?”
    â€œRivals certainly.”
    â€œEnemies?”
    He hesitated. He sighed and then said, “Many years ago, there was an incident between us … since that time a gulf has divided us—” he broke off. He seemed to be considering whether to say more but when I couldn’t wait any longer I asked:
    â€œEnough of a gulf that he might want to put you out of business?”
    He spread his hands in a Gallic gesture that meant he wasn’t going to answer this one at all.
    â€œEspecially after so many years?”
    He looked at his knuckles again. Perhaps he wanted to punch somebody with them. Was it Raymond or was it me?
    â€œIf I could tell you anything helpful, I would. But I can tell you nothing useful at all, I’m afraid.” His manner seemed sincere enough. “That incident I referred to with Raymond—well, there’s really nothing there either—I mean nothing with any relevance to this affair.”
    The tough private eye always growled, “Best let me be the judge of that” but I didn’t think that would work with François. Besides, now that I knew François wasn’t there to pin me to the wall for unmasking the secrets of Oiseau Royal, I was breathing a little easier although I still wasn’t sure I wanted this job.
    â€œActually I’m not that kind of detective,” I told him. “What I do is—”
    â€œOh, I know what you do,” François said. “And you do it very well. You’re the man who found a new source of lotus leaves for Johnny Chang.”
    I wasn’t too worried about him knowing that. It was good publicity when the occasional commission was leaked.
    â€œYes, I am. So you can see that I’m not really the kind of detective you want.” I said it in my most persuasive voice. It was as ineffective as recommending a Ploughman’s Lunch with pickles to a ploughman.
    â€œI told you I need a man who is well-informed about food and restaurant procedures.”
    â€œIf it’s an investigator you want, try Knightsbridge Inquiry Agency,” I suggested. “They’re very reliable, their reputation is—”
    â€œWhat do they know about food?”
    â€œEverybody knows something about it—”
    â€œDo they know as much as you?”
    Honesty was pushing me towards