He burst through the door as if ready to fight someone. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Better than fine." I showed him the footage on my tablet. "Look at this."
He watched in silence, jaw tightening, hands curling into fists. After I hit pause, he looked at me. "We're calling the cops."
"And reporting what? An unidentifiable person in kitchen whites walked through an open door during a delivery window, touched two surfaces, and left. No face, no logo, no forced entry, nothing taken."
I tapped the screen. "The chicken proves somebody did this. It doesn't prove who. And the two people who actually came to my door today never laid a finger on anything, which I'd bet is exactly what their lawyer would invite the police to notice."
"Nadia—"
"They're going to call in an anonymous health complaint. Probably already have." I met his eyes. "Let them. I'll pass with flying colors because there's nothing to find. The complaint dies, and I add one more piece to a file of things I can prove happened and can't prove came from anywhere."
"That's a risk."
"Of course it's a risk." I touched his arm. "Trust me. I've got this."
He studied my face, then nodded slowly. "What do you need?"
"Tomorrow night. The Business Roundtable dinner." I pulled up the guest list on my tablet, something I wouldn't have done without Sofia leaning on one of the ladies in her church group. "Samantha Morrison and Justin Walters are confirmed as guests of the chapter president."
His expression darkened. "They'll be sitting with him?"
"At the head table." There was nothing warm in my smile. "They'll walk in thinking I’ve failed a health inspection. That they've won."
"But you found the evidence."
"I did. But they don't know what my cameras caught." Cold satisfaction settled deeper. "That's the beautiful part. Their ghost kept his head down, but Samantha Morrison can't be certain of that. She knows my system is new. She knows somebody walked through my kitchen this morning. Tomorrow night, I'm going to let her sit at the head table and wonder exactly how much of it I have."
Daemon's expression shifted to something that looked like pride. "That's my girl."
Thursday morning had my team in full prep mode. The Business Roundtable dinner was bread-and-butter work. Fifty local business owners and community leaders met at the Roundtable offices for a monthly catch-up and gossip. We'd been catering it for three years.
By early afternoon, everything had been packed and transported, and my staff had set up in the large boardroom-come-meeting-hall. I was alone in the kitchen, finishing paperwork, when the health inspector arrived.
"Ms. Becker? Health department. Anonymous complaint."
I didn't bother keeping my face neutral. Instead, I reacted the way I would if reported anonymously to the health department. "Oh, goodness. You'd better come in."
What he didn't know was that I'd seen him arrive on the security camera and had watched him take his time checking the area around the door. So that's how it was going to be.
He was thorough. Professional. There was no mistaking that he was laser-focused on the prep counter, even getting down on his hands and knees to check under the front of the refrigerator. The exact spots where I'd found the planted evidence.
He checked everything as thoroughly as I had. Took photos. Made copious notes.
Twenty minutes later, he looked up from his clipboard. "Everything's in order. You'll receive the formal report within five business days, but I don't see any violations."
Was it my imagination, or did he look supremely pissed off?
"Thank you. I'm surprised that there was a complaint. I pride myself on my hygiene standards. My time in the army taught me that best wasn't good enough."
After he left, I locked up and headed to the Roundtable offices, unable to keep the smile off my face.
My staff had everything under control. Food ready, service positions confirmed. I positioned myself where I could see the entrance and watched members arrive.
The chapter president. The treasurer. Local shop owners, contractors, and professionals. Familiar faces, most of them my clients at one time or another.
Then, fashionably late, Samantha Morrison and Justin Walters walked in.
