Chapter 23

Arnold Cavenstein rushed about his kitchen with the look of a man on fire. While there had been no formal request for superior service by his guests he dared not tempt their fury in any way. They had so far seemed to enjoy their meal and he aimed to keep it that way. The first courses of amuse had gone down spectacularly well, but Mr. Cavenstein had noticed that the third course of caviar was left wanting by one of the attendees. Ms. J had picked at the appetizer with the wooden fork for several minutes before deciding to set it aside. Once the others had finished their third course Mr. Cavenstein whisked the plates away from them as soon as possible so that Ms. J might not linger upon her distaste for the dish.
He was currently hurrying about the kitchen laying the final touches on their cold appetizer of cut vegetables. As he chopped carrots into thin disks the sight of the plate of untouched caviar caught the corner of his eye. He suddenly realized, having spent the day preparing and worrying, that he had not eaten since breakfast several hours before. As he continued chopping he felt his taste buds water with lust for the smallest taste of the fish eggs. He topped off the final plate for the next course with a few sprigs of broccoli and hopped quickly across the kitchen towards the unsullied plate. As he grabbed the wooden fork the sound of a bell tinkled from the next room. He quickly shoved a bit of the caviar into his mouth and turned to take the next course out to his waiting guests. He swallowed his light snack quickly and flew through the door, tray in hand, where his guests were buried in conversation.
“What about the bloody man left guarding him?” queried Simon as Mr. Cavenstein entered the room. Mr. Cavenstein laid his serving tray down on a table to the side of the dining party. He began to lay the next course in front of each of the guests.
“He claims,” said Roland, “that he had gone into the nearest distribution property to search for parts to repair his harvesting unit. Something about it collecting rocks. Not quite sure, but it doesn’t sound right.”
“Perhaps,” croaked Victor as Mr. Cavenstein placed the appetizer in front of him, “but why would the man lie? He hasn’t had formal contact with the dreamer for twenty-five years. There’s not enough of a relationship to establish motive.”
“We still have him detained,” said Roland, “we could always have him thrown in isolation to see if he’s hiding anything.”
“Why are you all obsessing over the farmer?” hissed Ms. J, “Let’s focus upon the escapee. He’s only been on the loose for a day. With or without help he couldn’t have gotten far. We need to direct our attention to the major points of exit. He can’t be allowed to enter any of the larger distrips. It could be…”
Ms. J stopped in mid-sentence, directing her full focus on Mr. Cavenstein who was in the process of putting the next course down in front of her. As he bent over to leave the appetizer Ms. J grabbed hold of his necktie and pulled him within an inch of her face. She took her index finger and rubbed it swiftly across his cheek. She then brought the finger into his line of sight. Mr. Cavenstein stood frozen in horror as he looked at a bit of caviar clinging to the end of Ms. J’s accusatory finger.
“Next time,” she said coldly, “take care to eat all of my food before bringing the next dish. Now, bring me a bottle of wine before I snap you in half.”
Ms. J released her hold of Mr. Cavenstein who nearly fell backward in fear.
“Now, as I was saying,” continued Ms. J as if nothing had occurred, “block his exits. The dreamer doesn’t have resource enough to go anywhere on his own.”
“Good idea,” said Roland, “Arnold?”
Mr. Cavenstein, who had turned to go into the kitchen, stopped and turned mechanically to face Roland. The blood had drained from his face and his eyes were wide with fear.
“Could you bring the phone to the table on your way back with the lady’s drink?”
Mr. Cavenstein nodded, turned, and walked swiftly into the kitchen. As the door shut behind him he stopped and leaned against the door frame. He could feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest. He quickly readjusted his tie that had been so forcefully pulled askew and darted towards the wine cellar. On his way through the kitchen his eyes crossed the half-finished plate of caviar. The very sight of it, which had moments ago inspired feelings of desire, disgusted him. He seized the plate and nearly threw it to the ground only stopping with the realization that the destructive sound might disturb his guests. He placed the plate neatly into the trash can and descended into the wine cellar to retrieve the next round of drinks.