Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery) (2 page)

In a huff, she walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the autographed picture of Troy Aikman behind Egan’s desk.

“Well, that went well,” Egan said, a mischievous grin on his face. “You up for the challenge, McAllister?”

“What happens if I lose?”

His grin widened. “You really don’t want to know.”

* * * * *

“So I finally get to meet the girl who talked my son into moving away from home?”

Jordan was caught off guard for a second time in as many days before her boyfriend’s mother smiled. “Just kidding, Jordan. My daughter and I couldn’t wait to get a look at you, especially since Alex has always kept us from his other girlfriends. Even tried to sabotage our meeting with you today.” Natalie Moreland extended her hand. When Jordan reached for it, she grabbed her and hugged her instead. “You’re as pretty as he said.”

Jordan stole a quick glance toward Alex who merely shrugged as if to say he had no control over his mother. Turning back to the petite woman who had arrived earlier from Houston, she said, “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, as well, Mrs. Moreland.”

Liar!

“Call me Natalie.” She pointed to the younger woman standing beside her. “And this is Alex’s sister Kate.”

Staring at the tall, well-built blonde in front of her, it was easy to see the family resemblance. Dressed in a navy blue suit with a powder blue silk blouse and heels that made her appear much taller than her five-eight or so stature, Kate Moreland could have been mistaken for a librarian—until you studied her face. With olive skin that accentuated the deep blue eyes, a career modeling anything she wanted was not too much of a stretch.

Kate noticed her staring and smiled. “Alex tells us you write for the local newspaper.”

Jordan beamed. “I’m the culinary reporter at the
Ranchero Globe
,” she answered, loving the way those words rolled off her tongue.

Purposely, she’d left out the part about how she still had to write the personals along with the column. Somehow, it sounded more impressive if they didn’t know she was doing two jobs and only getting paid for one. And she definitely didn’t want them to know what went down in her editor’s office the day before.

Jordan lowered her eyes, not wanting Alex to see how worried she was just thinking about the possibility that she might be demoted. Here it was Saturday already, a day after the meeting with Egan and Loretta, and she still hadn’t told either Alex or the gang at Empire Apartments.

At the thought of her friends, Jordan smiled to herself. It had been one of the luckiest days of her life when she’d moved to Ranchero—population 22,000—and walked into the shabby apartment building owned by Victor Rodriguez and Michael Cafferty. She’d been greeted by the most loving group of friends she’d ever had.

Lucking into the temporary job when Loretta was in rehab was a gift from above, even though she knew absolutely nothing about cooking and hated most fancy foods. Since then she’d been biding her time until one of the sports writers either retired or moved on to the big arena in the sky, but that probably wouldn’t happen anytime soon. Jim Westerville was still in his forties and had lived in Ranchero all his life. The only chance of him leaving was if he met a hot physical therapist and bolted for Sin City like Loretta had done.

Remembering Westerville as a happy-go-lucky guy who was always bringing his kids to work, she smiled. Not really the type to skip town with a floozy, but then again, she wouldn’t have thought her ex would crumble under a mass of big blond hair and fake boobs, either.

And the other members of the sports team were just as entrenched in their jobs.

If she were being truthful, though, she’d have to admit that writing the Kitchen Kupboard twice a week wasn’t a bad gig. Having people recognize her name and chat with her about the recipes she printed every week was exciting. But deep down she knew if her editor ever did give her the opportunity to move to the sports department, she’d give it all up in a heartbeat.

Sports had been her first love all her life. It was a given since she’d grown up in West Texas with four brothers who’d regularly counted on her to even out their flag football teams. When they’d discovered their baby sister could thread a touchdown pass between two defenders better than all of them, any chance her mother might have had at teaching her homemaking skills had gone out the window.

Had it not been for her weasel of a fiancé cheating on her after she’d followed him to Dallas like a loyal puppy dog, she wouldn’t have felt the need to get as far away from him as she could and put her career dreams on hold. Nor would she have met the wonderful people at Empire Apartments who had taken her under their wing that very first day and made her a part of their close-knit family.

“Your lasagna recipe made it into her column, Mom,” Alex blurted when there was a lull in the conversation.

Natalie Moreland perked up. “My great-grandmother’s recipe always gets rave reviews. Did you try it before you put it in the paper?”

Jordan looked away, wondering if now was the time to tell Alex’s mother that she was lucky she could boil water. She was positive Natalie Moreland, along with the rest of the good people of Ranchero, would wonder what the newspaper was thinking handing over the culinary column to someone like her whose idea of gourmet food usually came with fries. If it wasn’t for her neighbors giving her their personal recipes gussied up with fancy names, her tenure as a food connoisseur would have crashed and burned a long time ago.

“She did, Mom, and she loved it,” Alex said, stepping in for her. He winked behind his mother’s back, sending a silent message that her secret was safe with him.

She’d tasted the lasagna, all right, and it was as delicious as his mother had said, but he’d been the one to cook it. Jordan felt the heat crawl up her face, remembering how he’d seduced her that night with a tray of lasagna and a pitcher of homemade sangria. Thank heavens Natalie Moreland had no idea her great-grandmother’s recipe had been instrumental in what had turned out to be one of the most romantic nights of her life. If for no other reason, Jordan would have to add her own rave review for the dish.

“We’d better hurry if we want to grab some lunch. I have a meeting in North Dallas with the Italian festival planners at two,” Kate said, impatiently glancing at her watch. “Oh Lord, it’s later than I thought. I’ll have to take a pass and meet up with you all tonight at the party.” She turned to Jordan. “I’ll be working on the festival most of tomorrow, but why don’t we do brunch before I head over to the fairgrounds? We can use the time to get to know each other.” When Jordan nodded, Kate bent down to kiss her mother then stood on tiptoes to reach Alex.

As Kate was leaving, Jordan took a few minutes to study Natalie Moreland. It was obvious where both Kate and Alex had gotten their good looks. Shorter than her daughter, she had the same olive skin and deep blue eyes. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a crisp, white, sleeveless shirt, she looked as if she could have been his older sister instead of the woman who had given birth to him. Dark blonde hair with lighter highlights framed her perfectly shaped face in an up-to-date style. Jordan was pretty sure that, unlike Alex’s hair, Natalie Moreland’s had come from a bottle at a high price and wasn’t the result of the sometimes brutal Texas sun.

Natalie entwined her arm with Jordan’s. “What are we waiting on? I’m starving, and I can’t wait to find out all about the girl my son has tried so hard to keep secret from me.”

Alex rolled his eyes and held the door open as the two women passed. Once in the car, Jordan sat in the backseat so Alex’s mother could get a better view of the small town her son now called home. Unfortunately, his job took him all over Texas, and he spent as much time away from Ranchero as he did in town.

During their last undercover gig in El Paso, Alex and his partner had put away a lot of big fish in the Texas/Mexico drug connection. After they’d tied up all the loose ends in the case, he’d jumped at the offer of a promotion as the FBI’s Dallas assistant field commander. Even though Ranchero was an hour’s drive from downtown Dallas, he’d chosen to live in the same house he’d occupied for several months while working undercover to break up an international diamond smuggling ring the year before.

Staring at the back of Alex’s head as he entertained his mother with a tour of the city, Jordan was glad he’d decided to come back to Ranchero. Secretly, she hoped his decision to make that long commute to work had something to do with her.

With the Italian Festival in town, if she played her cards right, maybe she’d get a repeat of the lasagna dinner—and more.

C
HAPTER
T
WO

Jordan climbed into Ray Varga’s nine-passenger Suburban later that night, along with all her other friends from Empire Apartments, and everyone began talking at once.

“I can’t freaking believe I’m finally going to see the inside of the fabulous Crown Royale Hotel. Heard the rooms go for a thousand bucks a night,” Victor Rodriguez said from the back of the SUV.

Jordan turned to Michael Cafferty, Victor’s partner, and pursed her lips to hide her glee. “You’d better hold him down, because when I tell him where the party is actually being held, he’s gonna flip out.”

Victor leaned forward until he was practically in Jordan’s face. “Oh dear God, don’t keep me in suspense. Are we going to be in the ballroom?”

Jordan shrugged. Victor was more like a brother to her than her landlord, and like her four older siblings back in West Texas, he was easy to tease.

He owned the local antiques shop in the town square and had a better eye for finding old stuff and turning it into a profit than anyone she’d ever known, but he was also the easiest of the Empire Apartment gang to impress. He and Michael had bought the rundown building on a lark and now socked every spare dollar they had into renovating it. That left little money for entertainment. Tonight was a big deal for all of them.

Jordan and Victor had hit it off right away and had quickly become good friends—and sometimes cohorts in crime. It seemed every time the two of them were off on their own, they always managed to get into trouble.

“Oh Lord, child. Put him out of his misery. I can’t stand to see that look on his face.” Rosie LaRue, the fiftyish, free spirit of the group, twisted around to face Jordan. “I’m dying to know, too. So give it up before we gang up on you.”

“The Presidential Suite.”

Ray whistled. “Whoa! I once worked security over there and couldn’t believe the opulence. Don’t know if it’s true or not, but my boss said the suites upstairs started at ten grand a night.” He leaned toward his favorite lady, Lola Van Horn. “You and I could do a lot of relaxing there, love, if you get my drift.”

“Criminy, Ray! Who doesn’t get your drift?” Rosie playfully punched Ray’s arm.

Anyone with two eyes could see how much Lola and Ray cared for each other. What had started out as two neighbors sharing coffee every morning had progressed into the two sharing a whole lot more. It was cute watching the tough ex-cop turn to jelly in the hands of the seventyish woman who owned Lola’s Spiritual Readings next door to Victor’s antique shop and wore the latest caftans Wal Mart had to offer. It gave Jordan hope that love might be in the cards for all of them.

“Seriously, kiddo, we’re really going to party with the rest of the Italian Festival people in the Presidential Suite at the Royale?” Rosie grabbed her purse and dug out the mirror. “I need more lipstick.”

Jordan laughed. “Kate’s firm represents the Italian-American Foundation.”

“Who’s Kate?” Lola asked.

“Alex’s sister. Anyway, they’re the ones putting on the festival, and Kate’s here to make sure everything this weekend goes without a hitch.”

“His sister’s a lawyer?”

“Yes. She lives in Houston, and apparently, she also was involved in last year’s festival in California. She drove in yesterday to oversee the operation again this year. Alex’s mother only came along for the ride—and to check me out, I’m sure.”

“Oh my word! And you’re meeting her tonight?” Lola shot Jordan a sympathetic look.

“Already did at lunch today. Thank God she’s nothing like what I’ve been imagining since Alex first mentioned they would be coming. I was sure she would be another Marie Barone from
Everybody Loves Raymond
.”

Rosie snapped the mirror shut, apparently satisfied with her makeup. “And is she?”

“No, thank God, although it’s obvious Alex is still her baby boy. She put me on the spot a few times, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

Jordan leaned against the cool leather seat and thought about the earlier meeting with Natalie Moreland. As expected she had been very protective of her only son and nailed Jordan with a few personal questions that bordered dangerously into none-of-your-business territory. Even Alex couldn’t reel her in and finally had just thrown his hands in the air.

But Jordan hadn’t minded. Something about Natalie Moreland reminded her of her own mother back in Amarillo. She’d answered the questions honestly, telling her the relationship with Alex was only in the beginning stages, explaining that they were taking their time getting to know each other. Slow and steady had seemed to satisfy her.