Murder by Rejection

            Derek Monroe, a literary agent, was the keynote speaker at a writer’s conference. The only problem was, he never made his keynote speech. He died while eating the salad at the welcoming dinner. Just as he was getting ready to chow down on a ripe tomato, he fell face first into the salad, exhaled, and never drew another breath. 
            Private Investigator Yale Larsson was attending the writer’s conference with his 86-year old grandmother, Elise McKenzie who was trying to get an agent to look at her gluten-free cookbook. The conference organizer, Gerald Coulthard knew Larsson was a P.I. And asked for his help while the police were en route.
            “My god, Yale, he just keeled over.”
            Yale was careful not to disturb any evidence but pointed to the medic alert bracelet on his wrist. “Your keynote must be very careful about what he eats. He’s allergic to seafood. Sends him into anaphylactic shock, which is what I assume happened.”
            “How can you tell?”
            “I was close enough to see him reach for his throat while attempting to stab a tomato.”
            “But there’s no seafood in the salad.”
            Yale leaned over and sniffed the salad, dipped his finger in the dressing, and tasted it. “No. But there’s peanut oil in the dressing, which would kill a man in his condition.”
            “But we’re cautious about what we put in our food.”
            “Let’s talk to your head chef.”
            Gerald led Yale to the kitchen and introduced him to the head chef, a short fat man with an Italian accent named Angelo.
            “Angelo, what salad dressing did Mr. Monroe order with his meal.”
            The head chef mumbled something in Italian and motioned for the waitress. “Carly. What dressing did Monroe order with his salad?”           
            She grabbed a pad from her black jacket. “French.”
            “There is no peanut oil in our French dressing Señor Larsson.”
            The door to the kitchen clattered and in strolled homicide detective Dustin Kennedy. “Larsson, you’re like the proverbial bad penny. We’ve got this covered.”
            “And I know who the murderer is.”
            “He choked on his salad according to what his wife said.”
            “Not so. Monroe was poisoned. Mr. Monroe was deathly allergic to peanut oil, and someone put it in his salad dressing.”
            A loud clanging noise put an end to the conversation. A blond-haired lady at the back of the kitchen started running for the back door. Yale grabbed a cart, pushed it in her direction. Bullseye. She fell to the floor.
            Yale and Kennedy rushed over and picked her up. Yale strolled over to her station and picked up a bottle of peanut oil. “This is what killed him.”
            Kennedy cuffed her. “Why’d you do it lady?”
            “My memoirs. Monroe rejected my memoir Cooking with Cherie.”