California Schemin' - Kate George [57]
“I always pour too much in. You’d think I’d learn.”
“It’s habit. You do it the same way every time without thinking. You want to change it, you have to focus on it.”
“Guess I can’t be bothered to focus on a soda.”
“You can try putting your finger in it when it foams. Someone told me that works.”
“If I remember,” I said. I picked up my soda. “I think I’ll take this back to my room. I’ve got faces to memorize.”
“I don’t think you should be talking about that. Be careful.”
“Wallace didn’t tell me not to talk, so I assumed everyone in the house knew what was going on except Wendy. I have the feeling he didn’t tell her the whole truth.”
“Probably not.”
“Who do you think did the actual killing?”
“I don’t watch that show.” He looked around and whispered in my ear. “You need to watch what you say. The walls may not have ears, but they definitely have bugs. Wallace doesn’t leave anything to chance.”
A puff of air escaped me. I wasn’t going to be getting any information from Moose. I was pretty sure he was some kind of agent, too, but maybe not. Do agents pretend to be chefs? Probably, if it got them where they needed to be. The stool tipped and righted itself as I slid to the floor. My glass had started to sweat, and I grabbed a napkin to use as a coaster.
“Going back to your room? I’m thinking you spend too much time alone in there.”
“Well, I can’t very well study those pictures out here.”
I glanced back into the kitchen from the hall. Moose was pulling Plexiglas parts out of a cabinet under the island.
“What’s that?”
It’s a fountain. I’m going to put melted chocolate in it. Serve pretzels and berries to dip in it. Fresh pineapple slices. Stuff like that.”
“Where did you learn to cook?”
“Oh, you know. Took a crash course in chauffeuring and cooking from the Chauffeuring and Cooking Institute.” He laughed.
He got the fountain assembled, and I migrated back into the kitchen, watching. He stuck chocolate into the microwave to melt and started pulling trays of fruit out of the big fridge.
“Did you prepare all that stuff?” I asked.
“Nah.” Moose smiled. “Bought it like this from the grocery store. No shortage of money in this house, so I take the easy way.” He pulled packages of shortbread cookies and pretzels out of the pantry and added sprinkles and doodads. Then he carried the fountain out of the kitchen, presumably to put it on the dining room table. I looked at the chocolate melting in the microwave and was struck by a thought. I set my soda on the counter and jogged down the hall to the bathroom.
The shelves in the medicine cabinet were disappointing. Tums, Tylenol and toothpaste. Nothing useful. I ran up the stairs to the master bedroom, crossing my fingers that Wallace wouldn’t catch me there. I hit the jackpot. Chocolate laxative, ipecac and diet pills. Stuffing the pockets of my jeans with likely items, I looked further. Two bottles of Valium. Bingo! Prescription drugs make me nervous, and I toyed with leaving them. I slipped them in my pocket anyway, just in case.
Downstairs, I unloaded my pockets and shoved everything under my pillow. I wandered back into the kitchen and picked up my soda. Moose was stirring the melted chocolate.
“Not quite done,” he said and put the bowl back in the microwave.
“Moose? Is there a computer where I can do some shopping? I’d like some stuff, and I thought I could put some stuff in a cart, and the senator could pay for it and have it shipped. Do you think that would be all right?”
“Sure. See this cabinet over here?” He opened what looked like a pantry. Inside was a laptop computer, a printer on the shelf above and a scanner beside it. Three digital cameras were plugged into their docks, all charged up and waiting for someone to come along and use them.
“Thanks.” I sat down and pulled up the website for Old Navy. I signed in and pulled up an old wish list. There was enough stuff in the list to cover any need I might have except underwear and bras, so I added the first matching cotton bras and panties that came up