Inherit the Word (The Cookbook Nook Series) by Daryl Wood Gerber

resignation from my chef. It’s nothing.”
    “I wouldn’t call it nothing,” Cinnamon said. “That’s what the basis of the argument was between you and Natalie, correct?”
    “Not the letter,” Lola said. “The deed.”
    “The deed to the diner?” Bailey asked.
    “No.” Lola faced Bailey. “The deed. The
act
. Natalie stole my chef.”
    Cinnamon said, “I heard Natalie Mumford promised your chef a bigger salary.”
    Lola snickered. “I’ll bet that’s not all she promised.”
    “Lola, don’t,” Mayor Zeller warned.
    “He made advances at me. What do you want to bet—”
    “Lola, enough,” the mayor cut in. “No more answers. No more innuendos. I happen to know Natalie had no romantic involvement with your chef.”
    “Right. You were her friend, too,” Lola said, a distinctive nastiness to the final word.
    Cinnamon pressed on. “Receiving the resignation letter could have made you mad enough to attack Natalie.”
    “Oh, please. I received the letter nearly ten days ago, the day he quit. I tore it up and tossed it into that.” Lola pointed at the trash can beside her desk.
    “Because you were mad,” Cinnamon said.
    “If I’d wanted to kill Natalie because of her dastardly plot, don’t you think I had plenty of time before today?”
    “Lola, hush,” the mayor said.
    “Maybe she taunted you while you were on break at the Grill Fest,” Cinnamon suggested.
    “I was in the restroom,” Lola said. “Besides, Natalie wouldn’t have dared to take me on in private. She was always about public displays of
dis
-affection.”
    “Lola.” Mayor Zeller clapped her hands once.
    My father said, “Darling, listen to your lawyer.”
    “She’s not my lawyer.”
    “Cool your heels.” The mayor flicked Lola’s arm with a finger.
    Lola sealed her lips and mimed locking them with an imaginary key. Bailey grabbed my hand and squeezed like her life depended upon it. Cinnamon, who seemed sufficiently stalemated, pivoted toward the door.
    A new idea came to me. I stepped in front of her. “Lola doesn’t bolt the door to this office. You saw for yourself. We walked right in. Anybody could have stolen the destroyed letter. Where did you find it?”
    “In Natalie’s purse,” Cinnamon answered. “Taped back together.”
    “Why would I put the letter in Natalie’s purse?” Lola asked. “Do I look dumb?”
    “The murderer must have planted the letter,” I said. “Did you check the fingerprints on the tape? Are they Lola’s?”
    “How could I have discerned that in this short—” Cinnamon mashed her lips together. “There were no fingerprints. The tape appeared to be wiped clean.”
    “What about the weapon?” I asked.
    “Also free of prints. However, I happened to notice that Lola wears prep gloves at the restaurant.”
    She was right. Lola had tossed a pair of latex gloves before exiting the kitchen. I said, “Where’s the chef who quit? Maybe he killed Natalie.”
    “No,” Lola cut in. “Natalie said he moved to Vegas.”
    Cinnamon said, “I will be following up on that aspect.”
    I gazed at Lola and back at Cinnamon. How had the killer timed Natalie’s murder to the bathroom break? Then it came to me. “The fire alarm,” I blurted out. “It was flipped on as a diversion.”
    Cinnamon threw me a baleful look.
    “Of course you’ve thought of that,” I said. Dumb me. Open mouth, insert head. “Do you know if any of our neighboring storeowners saw anything?” The alley was situated between Fisherman’s Village and the next row of stores.
    “I haven’t had time to question anyone yet.”
    Of course not. We’d all dashed after Lola.
    Bailey shivered beside me. “Chief Pritchett, I’ve heard that Natalie’s family wasn’t all that happy with her. She ruled them with an iron fist.”
    I liked Natalie’s daughter. She was a regular customer at The Cookbook Nook. I hated to think her capable of murder, but I didn’t want Cinnamon to consider Lola the only suspect,