Topped Chef(71)

“Thanks for asking,” said the little woman. “I’m Harriet Miles.” She bared her teeth in a timid smile. “Of all things, they think my friend had an allergic reaction to star fruit.”

“Wow,” I said. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s unusual,” she said. “Apparently star fruit is related to mango.”

“Mango?”

“A few people have a toxic reaction, and unfortunately, Sarah is one of them. She was so mad about missing the rest of the tasting.” She shook her head with a wry smile. “You can probably tell by looking at her that she enjoys eating everything. She’s not fussy about food the way I am. But she’d never tried star fruit before so the bad reaction was a complete surprise.”

“I’m just glad it wasn’t poison,” I said. “That’s what we were afraid of.”

She looked alarmed. “You thought she was poisoned?”

Okay, foot in mouth, Hayley: I should never have mentioned that. I gave a fake laugh. “Food critic’s humor. I’m so sorry you ladies missed the rest of your cruise. I’m sure this particular detour wasn’t on your itinerary.”

The little woman nodded. “Definitely more excitement than we bargained for. First of all, the paramedics wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance because I’m not a relative by blood or marriage. Luckily that nice Mr. Shapiro put me up in a bed-and-breakfast on Grinnell Street. And once Sarah was stable and they weren’t so worried about her, I visited the Hemingway House and saw all his cats.”

“Those kitties are my favorite tourist attraction,” I said with a grin.

“Sarah’s getting released this morning so we plan to take the conch tour train and have a nice dinner before we have to catch a plane home tomorrow.” Her face brightened. “You’re a food critic, right? Maybe you have a recommendation?”

“Sure,” I said. “I love Michael’s for steak. Or Santiago’s Bodega for tapas—it’s in our funky part of town up the street from Blue Heaven. Which is also enjoyable, and famous for chickens pecking underneath your dinner table. Or Louie’s Backyard for the view—though it’s pricey. Or if you want the down-home Key West experience, either B.O.’s Fish Wagon or Pepe’s—they’re right across the street from each other on Caroline Street.”

“She owes me,” said Harriet. “Louie’s Backyard sounds perfect. Don’t tell Sarah, but I wasn’t enjoying the cruise that much anyway. All those children running around shrieking, and plus I felt constantly queasy from the boat’s motion. Key West is the bomb.”

I exited the waiting room, relieved that the tourist ladies were alive and safe. And pleasantly surprised that Peter Shapiro had been so generous. I suppose he didn’t want a lawsuit marring his show’s prospects.

My phone buzzed and Torrence’s name flashed on my screen. “Good morning,” I said after clicking to accept the call. “They wouldn’t let me in to see Turtle.”

“Then they are doing their job,” he said. “You said you had some news?”

“A little,” I said. “Though mainly I called because I was worried about Turtle being in danger. But it looks like you already have that covered.” I told him how I’d tracked down Derek at the harbor earlier this morning. “I might have forgotten to mention the other day that he had a photo on his iPhone of Rizzoli hanging from the mast. Turtle was kind of worked up about the whole crime thing.”

“Worked up?” Torrence asked.

“Excited. Sort of. I don’t know how to explain it. He insisted that Derek show me the photo. But ever since we found him all beat up, I started to wonder whether he saw something happen the night Rizzoli died. Maybe he didn’t realize he saw it. But maybe the killer thought he’d seen something that would make him dangerous.”

There was a pause on the line.

“You forgot to mention this?” Torrence asked.

“Sort of,” I said, feeling a little sick to my stomach. In my urge to protect Derek’s privacy and his smartphone, had I put Turtle in danger?

“Anything else?” he asked.

I hesitated, but then spilled the details of the visit I’d made last night to Mrs. Rizzoli, and her admission that she’d been involved with Buddy Higgs.

“Thanks for letting me know,” he said.

Which sounded like a perfectly nice thing to say, only the way he emphasized “letting me know” made it clear he was annoyed.

“I would appreciate it if you’d leave any further interviews to me.”