Brady, Of Course, Hadn’t Known
the blackest ink- and tater tots on Tuesdays
- “Yeah, that sucks, buddy.”
- that the ginger chef insisted on
- I am a man with a refined palate
Tune in next time part 516 Click Here for Earlier Installments
Brady, of course, hadn’t known I was aware of his affiliation with Jorgensen. He was as surprised as Scrim, his eyes bugging over cheeks smeared with mascara dark as the blackest ink available for calligraphic pen refills. While he was still in shock, I took advantage of Brady’s foot injury and the fact that Scrim’s knees didn’t bend to dash off into the garden without being pursued.
I hoped to find nurse Marnie, but the garden was like a maze. Around the third turning between towering, flowering hedges, I encountered a sort of clearing that was being used as an outdoor kitchen. Several large tables were configured for prep zones, and people in white jackets and toques scurried about stirring the contents of kettles suspended over bonfires.
“Did a nurse just ride a bear through here?” I asked.
“Don’t think so,” a red-haired cook said. “But it’s possible we wouldn’t notice, because we’re so busy. We have to prepare casseroles and desserts and salads every day, and tater tots on Tuesdays.”
I sighed. “Yeah, that sucks, buddy.”
“Now please clear out. You’re distracting my staff!” Hollandaise sauce flew off the wooden spoon that the ginger chef insisted on waving around as he spoke. “Or, at least keep quiet. I am a man with a refined palate and a short temper.”
bonus points for using them in order