“Yeah, Dominic usually put them on the staff menu. They’ll be on the main menu now.” Philip didn’t look at her as he spoke, concentrating instead on twisting off the metal circle from the meat grinder’s main body. “As well as whatever dishes I can invent between now and tomorrow morning for the rest of the trimmings. Maybe I’ll make Jamaican beef patties. It has so many spices, scotch bonnet, onion, ginger, paprika, allspice. Doesn’t really matter what cut of meat’s being used.”

Philip’s lack of eye contact read as guilty to Tonya. He wasn’t simply talking; he was confessing how he cut corners and controlled costs, recycling the leftovers into staff meals and upscale street food. Tonya’s nose scrunched at the thought that all these years she’d been consuming parts of the cow perhaps better suited for dogs. Shank or tongue. The whole head, maybe.

“This is few-day-old flank steak,” Philip said, perhaps reading the expression visible above her mask. “Sometimes we use chuck or even sirloin in the meatballs, depending on what we have.” He snorted, returning his attention to disassembling the meat grinder. “Don’t worry. The parts that most people throw away end up as pâté. That’s where chefs hide all the livers, glands, and other sweetbreads.”

Tonya pointed a finger in Philip’s direction. “Good to know.”

She brought the mop over to where her boss had been working. Any meat left on the floor was sure to attract vermin.

“Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”

Tonya nearly dropped the stick in her hands. In her experience, men only wanted to “ask you something” when it was something inappropriate.

“Did you know Nate?”

The name set off her body’s alert system. Hairs stood up on the back of her neck and arms. Her heartbeat quickened. “Nate Walker, the one who was in the papers?”

“Yeah.” Philip stared at her, gas burner eyes on their highest setting.

Beneath her mask, Tonya’s upper lip grew damp. She could feel the sweat gathering at her ears. “Well, his daughter went to the school, so I knew of him.”

Philip’s eyes narrowed. He knew she was lying. How did he know?

“Um, why?”

“Imani thought you might know him.”

Tonya raised her eyebrows, performing surprise to cover her concern. Perhaps Nate had said something to Melissa over the years, and the woman had chosen not to confront her. Instead of causing a scene in front of the school community, Melissa could have decided to limit her reaction to crying to her best friend. She probably would have seen it as the mature thing to do. Taking the high road. Refusing to address the young tramp who’d tried to steal her husband.