"Right." I fed more pasta through the pasta machine, flattening it out into a long sheet.
A message pinged on Cass' phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at it.
"Jules said they're both heading this way."
I swallowed hard.
"They have some balls, I have to give them that," Boner said. "Or what is it? Cast iron ovaries?"
I managed a short, nervous laugh. "One or the other." I knew Shelly had the first, but that was none of my business.
"Play it cool," he said as the back door opened and someone stepped inside.
I turned in time to see Shelly, her bag over her shoulder.
"Morning, Chef," she called out cheerfully.
"Morning," I replied as if nothing was amiss.
"Everyone seemed to have fun last night," she said, stopping by the kitchen door.
Fun? That was one word for it. I'd almost forgotten we had the dinner the night before.
"Yeah, we should do it again sometime," I said.
With a different ending next time.
She grinned. "I'm here for it. They were all tipping like they'd never tipped before."
"That's great," I said sincerely. If that was the case, and she was innocent, I'd happily hold another dinner. Once Zeus was dead.
She headed off to the office to put down her things and fix her uniform.
"One down, one to go," Archer said softly.
I hummed my agreement. What was I going to do if Yvette seemed just as innocent?
I stepped away from the pasta maker, over to the doorway as Yvette stepped through.
She looked surprised to see me. Her face paled. She turned to run.
"Bingo," Boner called out.
We all bolted after her.
I was barely out the back door when she ran into Jules as he stepped into the alley. He grabbed hold of her, whipped her around and held her arms behind her back.
"Looks like we have ourselves a guilty party," Boner said, stepping over to her.
She lifted her chin in defiance. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Innocent people don't run off like that," I pointed out. "You look like you saw a ghost."
She curled her lip at me before she could stop herself.
"Why did you do it?" I asked.
"I know who you are," she said, making no effort to keep her voice down. "You're a murderer." She spat in the direction of my shoes.
