Kirk Nunne and Drea Barr are caterers whose business is finally getting the recognition it deserves. Their name, Barr Nunne Catering, is becoming well known among the elite of the city. All is going well until Kirk finds their fish supplier, Jeff, seriously injured in his shop. Suddenly, their perfect lives are upended.
Kirk drove back to the shop in a daze. He couldn’t believe what had happened. The shop was in chaos when he arrived. The bride was there and was demanding to see Kirk. Not even Drea could calm her. Kirk dealt with the hysterical woman halfheartedly, his emotions numb. Somehow, the fact she had to settle for her second choice couldn’t upset him. Not now, maybe not ever.
“Look,” he interrupted her. “A man is dead, Joni. The fact it causes you a minor inconvenience really doesn’t matter. So your guests don’t get fish stew. That man’s family is never going to see him again. Don’t you think that’s more important?”
Joni burst into tears. “I didn’t think of that, Chef. I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry! We can eat grilled cheese for all I care.”
“We can do better than that.” He put a consoling arm around her shoulder.
They settled the menu changes and the bride left in a much better mood.
“Talk about a day you’ll never forget,” Tommy, the prep chef said. “I bet she didn’t factor that into her wedding plans.”
“Don’t be crass,” Margo warned. “Poor girl. Such a burden to carry down the aisle. The marriage is cursed.”
“You’re being overly dramatic,” Tommy responded.
Margo slapped his arm. “Of course. I am French!”
Despite the pall that hung over them, the crew worked well. The wedding dinner was delicious and the bride’s father gave them a sizable tip.
“I’m sorry the guy is dead,” he told Kirk. “Hell of a thing. But I sure hate bouillabaisse. It was the ex-wife’s idea.” Smiling, he tapped Kirk’s shoulder and walked away happy.
That night, after everything was cleared away and the guests were gone, Kirk and Drea sat at a table as the rental company gathered up the furniture. They each sipped a glass of leftover champagne.
“What a day!” Drea slipped off her shoes.
Kirk lifted her feet to his lap, rubbing gently. She sighed, closing her eyes.
“Remind me to call that cop tomorrow,” Kirk said. “I thought of something else to tell him.”
“Oh?” Drea’s head came up and she stared at him. “What?”
“Something I noticed when I passed the truck. It may not be important…”
“You know how a van or truck will move if you even shift your weight?”
“So, Jeff’s truck was moving when I walked by. I just didn’t focus on it. It wasn’t important at the time, you know? I wounder what happened”
“Don’t you dare!” Drea cautioned.
“Don’t I dare what?” Kirk knew, but he was playing dumb.
“Don’t even think about investigating this crime. Remember what happened before?”
“Nothing bad happened….”
“Not that bad….”
“We got run out of town and very nearly got arrested for obstruction. Not again, Kirk. No.”
“Sorry, didn’t heard you. What?”
“Kirk!” Her tone was dangerous.
“Drea, I promise to be careful. Jeff needs us now.”
“Jeff doesn’t need us. He’s dead! He doesn’t need anything anymore.”
“His daughter needs us. We met her once. Remember? She rode his route with him. He asked her to work it for him when he was in the hospital.”
Drea signed heavily, knowing she couldn’t stop him, but she had to try. “Let the police do their jobs, Kirk. You will only get in the way.”
Kirk shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. They drove home in silence, arriving at their loft apartment above the shop. It was nearly midnight when they entered the freight elevator. The disaster in the fish market was nothing compared to the devastation of their home.