Turn Up the Heat by Jessica Conant-Park, Susan Conant Page A

happened.” He sat down.
    As Owen and I recounted our story, Josh sat motionless with his chin in his hand. “I just don’t believe this. God, poor Leandra.”
    “Chef?” Javier leaned in to Josh and began whispering quickly in Spanish. Santos stood nervously behind him.
    Josh nodded repeatedly. “I know. I know. It’ll be okay. I’ll vouch for you, but I don’t think they’ll ask. Don’t worry.” Javier and Santos moved to another table, where they sat quietly. “There’s Gavin,” Josh said. “When I called him, I didn’t tell him what happened, just that he needed to get down here fast. Chloe? Do you think you could tell him about Leandra? He’s going to take it hard.”
    Snacker clapped his hand over his mouth then mumbled sheepishly, “I didn’t even think of that. I feel like such an ass.” Owen smiled triumphantly, as if Snacker had just proved himself to be what Owen thought he was, namely, a dirtbag.
    The shock and confusion had somehow made me forget just how involved Gavin and Leandra had been. If Snacker was right, Gavin would be upset to hear that Simmer would be closed for the day. But Gavin’s distress about the loss of business would be nothing by comparison with what he’d feel when he learned about Leandra’s death.
    “Oh, Josh, please. I don’t know Gavin that well. Maybe it would better for him to hear it from you.” Breaking the news would’ve been hard under any circumstances, but I especially didn’t want to have to tell Gavin that Leandra’s body had been discovered in such a smelly, undignified place.
    “As the resident social work student, I think you’re the one to handle this. Please?”
    As usual, Josh was irresistible. I gave in. But I rose from my seat only to realize that the police were already telling Gavin about Leandra and that I was thus too late. When Gavin finished listening to the officer’s devastating words, he walked toward us. Everything about him was somber: his expression, his posture, and his slow gait. “I assume you all know?” He wasn’t crying, but his eyes were watery, and he avoided direct eye contact with any of us. As soon as we’d offered words of condolence, Josh, Snacker, and Owen suddenly made themselves scarce, leaving me to talk to Gavin.
    I spoke softly. “This must be a terrible shock. Can I get you anything?”
    He shook his head. “No. Thank you. I just…well, I just don’t understand it. Everyone loved Leandra. Who would do this to her? Why would anyone want to kill her? She must have been killed after she left work. Some asshole probably mugged her for her tip money and then killed her. I’ve told all my employees not to walk to their cars or the T alone at night. What the hell was she doing? She’s young and beautiful, and it was stupid of her to walk out of here with a wad of cash in her pocket. But my God!” Gavin rubbed his eyes. When he removed his hands, I could see that the whites were even redder than they’d been before. “But this has nothing to do with Simmer. She is great… was great to work with, did her job well, and all that. No one here would’ve had any reason to hurt her. It was obviously an urban crime that’s got no connection with us. With Simmer. So why are we all being held here for questioning?”
    “I don’t have an answer for you,” I admitted. “But obviously the police need to gather as much information as they can right now if they’re going to find out exactly what happened to Leandra. So we’ve just got to help them in any way that we can. At this point, that’s the best thing we can do for her, right?”
    Gavin shifted gears from bereaved boyfriend to restaurant owner. “You’re right, Chloe. Okay, I have to talk to Josh and Snacker and figure out what’s going on with our schedule.”
    So much for intensive grief counseling.
    Gavin beckoned Josh and Snacker over. “We need to make plans about when we can open. What have the police told you?”
    “We’re definitely not