Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (43 page)

Jennifer tugged down her sweater and came back to the sofa. "I’m so glad you came by. This was a nice visit. Let’s not spoil it."

Disappointed, I gathered my things and stood. "You want to tell me. I know it."

She held me by the shoulders and put her cheek to mine. "Go home to your husband, dear girl. We’ll talk again."

I made one last attempt. "Honest to God, I don’t care what it is. I won’t judge you, I promise."

Jennifer hooked her arm through mine and walked me to the door. "Can you make it to your car all right? I can walk you across if you like."

I smiled and shook my head. "I’m fine."

She pulled my jacket around me and smoothed down the collar. "All right then, off with you. We’ll talk again. Soon, I hope."

Jennifer stood at the door and waved as I drove off. Maybe she wasn’t the bad guy in the story of Rose, but she had secrets. Ones she wanted desperately to tell me. I knew that now. All I had to figure out was how to help her to set them free.

I flipped through the photo album from Kathy Morrissey. From the first page tears started because they were a few more pieces of Rose. And those pieces were the only thing I had to construct the mother I’d never know. Most of the pictures were of Rose and Kathy being silly teenagers. My favorites were three candid shots of Rose; sleeping on the beach; cooking; and presenting a birthday cake to her father, Jack. I put them aside to make prints for the nursery gallery wall.

At the end of the book were a few loose photos that were never pasted to the pages. More shots of Kathy and Rose clowning around, but the last two broke my heart. Rose and Rory on the sofa, laughing, with Rory’s head to her pregnant belly. They were so happy — just like Ted and I were when the babies kicked. And the last one — Rose in funeral black, a single lily between clasped hands and looking up to the sky — looking as though a little breeze could shatter her to pieces.

Zelda put her hand on my shoulder. "Scotti?"

I turned, then fell into her arms sobbing. While Zelda consoled me, Matt moved like a ghost in the background, stocking the truck. When I came up for air, I showed Zelda the picture and she cried too. Then she smacked me. "Damn it, don’t make me cry in public."

I laughed. "Heartless bitch."

She snapped a couple of paper towels off the roll. "Cry baby." She nudged me. "Now that you made me bawl, you better make me a sandwich."

The three of us sat at the butcher-block eating and yakking about the food truck and how good business was. While we cleaned up, Matt couldn’t stop talking about how much he loved being a food trucker. "Makes me feel like alive, you know?"

I laughed. "Actually, I do know." I handed him a plate to dry. "I miss my truck."

Matt nodded. "Yeah, but you got the little dudes to think about." He tugged on my ponytail. "You’ll be back before you know it." He laughed. "And then the little dudes will be riding with us."

I hip-bumped him. "Not if their father has anything to say about it."

"Have anything to say about what?" My husband stood at the back door smirking.

I grinned and patted my belly. "Our kids becoming food truckers."

He bent and kissed my neck loudly. "How about we wait ‘til they're born to discuss career choices?"

He poured a glass of milk, grabbed a plate of cookies and sat at the butcher- block. Matt pulled up a glass and a stool, and they started talking sports.

I took advantage of the bro-bonding to drag Zelda into the office and closed the door. She frowned. "Now what? You gonna try to talk me into letting you back on the truck? Because that ain’t gonna happen." I told her to shut up and then in quick whispers recounted my surveillance of Kathy and my conversation with Jennifer. Scrolling through the pictures of the cemetery, Zelda frowned. "Give me that picture of Rose, at the funeral." I hesitated for a second then gave it to her. She looked between the photo and the pictures on my phone. "Jennifer may be right."

"About what?"

She lay the phone and the photograph side by side on the desk. "Look at them. What do you see?"

I looked and frowned. "Rose at a funeral and my father’s headstone."

Zelda tapped the desk. "Do you see that they don’t match?" I shrugged. Zelda pointed. "Ignore the headstone and Rose for a minute — look at the background. It’s different. There’s no trees around Rose at the funeral, but look at the headstone; they’re everywhere, almost crowding the place."

I studied the pictures. "Yeah but the funeral was thirty years ago, those trees could’ve come later, or just been saplings back then." There were other minute points — the grass looked wrong; in the original picture the ground was flat but in the newer pictures it was sloped. I sighed. "Okay, let’s say you’re right. What’s your point?"

Zelda smacked me with the back of her hand. "That somebody moved Rory. We know it wasn’t Jennifer, and if Rose had moved him, she would’ve known about it. Marley said Rory had no family. Who else could it be?"

A cold dread roiled in my stomach. "So you’re saying Kathy did it?" Zelda nodded. "But how? She wasn’t his family. She had no legal right to do that."

Zelda rolled her eyes and scoffed. "People can find a way to do anything they want these days. And since Rory had no next of kin, who would stop her?"

The whole idea made me shudder. "But why?"

Zelda smacked her forehead. "Because genius, she loved Rory. She wanted him for herself. And this is how she got him for herself. No wonder she doesn’t like you. Probably afraid you’ll take him away from her just like Rose did."

Much as I wanted to disagree, I couldn’t think of any other explanation for the move. Zelda thought it would be easy enough for Eric to hack around for the documentation online, and I told her to set him loose.

It was hard to believe that a woman would go to such lengths or even love a man that much so long after his death. "Still seems strange, that she carries a torch for Rory thirty years later?"

Zelda grunted. "You think? What if Ingrid had gotten Teddy boy away from you, and they’d ridden off in the sunset together? Would you still be carrying a torch for him? Especially if he died before you had a chance to win him back?"

I shivered. "First of all, don’t ever say stuff like that again." I sighed. "Second of all, yeah I would.

<<>>

I lay on my side in bed while Ted rubbed my aching back. "Is that helping?"

"Yes. And if you could keep doing it until I deliver that would be great."

"Big day?"

I rolled onto my back and yawned. "I went to see Jennifer, then I came home. Not so big." I stuck my tongue out at him. "And all I made today were sandwiches."

He stroked my cheek. "And the photo album."

"Looking at old photos doesn’t qualify as strenuous exercise."

Ted rubbed circles on my belly. "No, but they get you worked up."

"Everything to do with Rose has that effect. I can’t help that. She’s my mother — I want to know everything about her. Even if it hurts. Can’t blame me for that, can you?"

Ted lay next to me and stroked my hair. "I’m thinking about taking maternity leave from work."

I laughed. "Really? How many months pregnant are you?" I made a face at him. "You’re not even showing yet."

He pinched my butt. "Very funny, brat. I want to stay close. For you and the babies."

I kissed him. "That’s sweet, honey, but you’re only ten minutes away. And you’re already working a shorter schedule." I tweaked his nose. "What you really want is to follow me around. And we both know that won’t fly."

He snuggled into my breasts. "I’ll just be your wingman. Like in the old days."

I laughed. "Like when you put trackers on my car, stalked me and had me climbing down balconies? Those old days?"

He propped up on his elbow and looked at me. "And what else happened today, that you and Zee had to go into the office and whisper about?"

"I found Rory today. His grave." I winced. "Kathy Morrissey led me to it." Ted demanded details, and I gave them up without a fight. "What do you think?"

Ted twisted his lips. "It’s pretty fucking weird." He frowned at me. "Which is not to say that I approve of you tailing people."

"I didn’t intend to do it, it just happened." I searched his deep green eyes. "I’m not sorry though. Now I know where my dad is." I smirked. "No thanks to Joe."

Ted chewed on his lip. "You two still haven’t made up?"

I rolled my eyes. "Joe and I are over."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

I shook my head. "Don’t you dare."

He rubbed my belly. "Honey, this is too much to handle on your own."

I struggled to sit up. "So what should I do. Just give up? Pretend like everything’s fine and welcome my aunt and cousin into the fold like there isn’t a big fat elephant in the room with us?"

Ted pulled me into his arms. "I know you need to see this through. Hire someone else?" He looked at me. "Another P.I.?" I made a face. He nodded. "I know you wanted Joe — but if you two are over, then…"

I nodded and lay down. "I’ll think about it."

A bad dream drove me out of bed and into the kitchen to make pies in the middle of the night. While I waited for the pies, I gnawed on a cold chicken leg and heated a slab of leftover lasagna in the microwave.

Ted stumbled into the kitchen rubbing his eyes. "Your pies woke me up."

"Sorry, I’ll tell them to keep it down next time."

Ted frowned. "Scotti."

I shrugged in supplication. "The babies were hungry, and eating woke me up so I decided to make pumpkin pies for you."

He pulled up a stool. "Do you know what time it is?"

The microwave beeped, and I pulled out the lasagna. "Time for pasta pie?" Never one to pass up food, Ted grabbed a knife and fork. I gave him a beer to go with it. He raised his eyebrows. "You’re on maternity leave, right?"

He twisted off the cap and sucked half of it down like it was mother’s milk. "Any parmesan cheese?"

After a pound of lasagna, a couple of beers, and three pieces of pumpkin pie, Ted fell asleep on the sofa. But I surged with an energy I hadn’t felt since early in my pregnancy and decided to roll with it. I went into the back room and assembled the mobiles and other baby contraptions. After that, I lugged the gift baskets up to the nursery and put away everything, then stacked the empty baskets in the hall closet.

Back to the kitchen, I cleared out a cabinet to stow the baby items we’d need to hand — bottles, formula, baby wipes, breast milk containers and a dozen other things. Little babies need so much. Then I stocked the mini nursery in my office with diapers, wipes, ointment, blankets, pacifiers, rattles and a mobile for the crib. While I was at it, I dressed the crib with bumper pad, sheets and blankets. I was a tornado of baby preparation and couldn’t stop myself. After I ran out of baby prep tasks, I packed my hospital bag with pretty things and a teddy bear for each of the babies. While I was at it, I packed a bag for Ted — he was not going to ditch me in the hospital to fend for myself. Then I stripped the bed and did the laundry. And the bathroom smelled funny, so I snapped on rubber gloves and went to work.

When Ted awoke around noon, I was whipping up brownie batter, while two lasagnas, a chicken, and a pork roast were going in the ovens. Ted wandered into the kitchen and sniffed the air. "What’s going on around here?" He frowned at the mess. "Have you been up all night?"

I glared at him. "Shut up and don’t bug me. I’m cooking. It’s too bad if you don’t like it. And do you think you could try a little harder to hit the toilet when you pee? I just cleaned up in there, and it was disgusting." I pushed past him and got baking pans out of the cabinet. Ted cocked his head and laughed. I spun back on him so fast I almost nailed him with the baking pan. "Oh you think this is funny? Well, while you were snoozing on the sofa, I was on my hands and knees cleaning up this mess." I swept my arm around the kitchen. "This house is filthy. Why did I never realize that before? We’re getting a cleaning crew in here to clean top to bottom."

"You’re nesting."

I pushed the sweaty hair off my forehead. "I’m cooking."

Ted put his arm around me. "You haven’t read any of those books? Not even a chapter or two?"

I nudged past him and went to the fridge for butter. "Who has time to read?" I started greasing the pans. "Besides, why should we both have to read them?"

"They’re very informative. You might learn something."

"Well, I’m too busy to learn anything right now. And, we need to go shopping. Today."

Ted kept laughing. "What for?"

I stopped greasing and scowled at him. "Car seats. We only have two and we need a set for your car. And groceries. And I don’t have any nursing bras or post maternity panties." I scowled at him. "Will you stop laughing at me? This is serious stuff. Do you realize once we have two babies, neither of us will ever go anywhere again?" My eyes darted around the room. "Do you smell that?"

Ted creased his brow. "The lasagna and roast chicken? Yeah smells great."