Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (5 page)

Steve shot me a wicked grin and in his TV announcer voice said, "Speech."

Then they all chimed in, "Speech, speech, speech."

My cheeks burned red and I stared at my champagne glass. But Ted smiled and held up his hand. "Okay, okay, simmer down." He beamed at me. "Despite all the reasons she should’ve said no — and when I say reasons, I mean you guys — she said yes." He put his arm around me. "And since I don’t want to give her time to come to her senses and change her mind, we’re getting hitched right away."

Melinda tilted her head and looked at me, but she asked Ted, "How soon?"

Ted cleared his throat and said, "November 15
th
."

Murmurs, elbowing, and chuckles passed between them — but not one of them seemed surprised. Ted and I shared a confused look. Even Zelda made a face at me like she couldn’t believe that no one complained.

"That’s wonderful," Melinda said.

I finally found my voice. "It is?"

"Yes, you’ll be married before the holidays. You’ll start off the new year as husband and wife. It’s perfect. I’ve always thought that people spend too much time planning weddings. By the time they marry, all the joy is gone."

My mouth hung open. Melinda Jordan didn’t want a big, fancy wedding for her first-born? Not even a helpful suggestion as to why we should wait? "So, no problem with the short date?"

Melinda put down her glass and took my hand. "No, not at all. It’s your wedding, darling. Your decision."

I squinted at her. "You understand that means it’ll be a small wedding? There won’t be ice sculptures and string quartets? I’ll probably make my own wedding cake?"

Ted tightened his grip on my shoulder. "Honey, it’s fine. Right, everybody?" Under his breath he said, "Let’s not push our luck."

I gaped at the sea of nodding heads with their smirky smiles and averting eyes. Nope. Didn’t buy it. "Okay, what’s going on here?"

Melinda busily collected empty champagne glasses — when she picked up mine, she snickered softly. "What do you mean, Scotti? We’re happy for you. We’re here to help in whatever way you need."

I smacked my forehead then pinched Ted’s ass. "They know!"

Ted rubbed his butt. "Know what?"

Steve grinned. "Yeah, Scotti. Know what?"

I blurted it out. "That I’m pregnant." Not one look of surprise, shock or confusion, but a lot of floor staring. "How?"

They couldn’t hold it in any longer and everybody burst out laughing. They dug into the pockets and pulled out wallets.

Zelda cackled and pointed. "They had a pool!" She chortled. "Who won?"

Melinda smiled and held out her hand and money was passed to her.

I gaped at them. "You had a pool? What was the bet?"

Melinda tucked the money into her apron pocket. "On how long it would take for you to tell us." She giggled. "I knew you wouldn’t hold out very long. Although I thought Teddy might break first."

I shook my head. "What gave me away?"

Melinda laughed, hard, from her belly and couldn’t get the words out. Then everybody else started laughing too. But I knew it what it was. A couple of weeks earlier, at another family dinner, I lost my dinner all over Melinda’s hydrangea bushes. They’d looked a little sad since then. "Right, the flower bushes."

Ted stared at me. "You knew you were pregnant then?"

Steve howled. "Bro, everybody knew but you and Scotti. It was so obvious."

Melinda hooked her arm through mine. "Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl yet? I hope for your sake it’s a girl — boys are so much work. And they break a lot of dishes."

Relieved that the news was out, I laughed along with everybody else. Despite my fears, getting two new Jordans for the price of one seemed to be a real hit with Ted’s family. Barely the size of a peanut and months before being born, my daughter was already part of a family who cherished her. She was one lucky little girl who’d have a much different childhood than her mother.

Tuesday afternoon, Joe beckoned us to his office. We came right after our route, still dressed in our food trucking togs. Plopping into our usual seats in front of his desk I asked, "What’s up?"

Joe ignored us and continued reading a document that he found fascinating, alternately scratching notes on a legal pad. A glass of sweet tea sweated on the desktop next to a paper plate that held a half-eaten ham sandwich — not like Joe to ignore food.

"Hello?"

Joe held up a finger while he finished reading. I slouched in my chair and frowned at my protruding belly — squirming because my shorts were giving me a wedgie.

Zelda snickered. "Two words — drawstrings."

I made a face at her and said, "Drawstrings is one word, genius."

Joe cleared his throat, and we gave him our attention. He peered over the reading glasses perched at the end of his bulbous nose, reminding me of a school principle I once knew. "All righty then. I got some good news and some bad news."

I lifted my foot and rested it on my knee. Shoes were getting tight too. "Good news first please."

"Good news is we got a case." He paused for effect, but we reserved judgment. "Bad news is I gotta split y’all up." We groaned, and he held up his hands. "Don’t get your petticoats in a tangle." He stared at my belly. "I can’t put you out in the field. Too many things can go wrong."

I snorted. "Is that right? And who’s idea was that? Ted’s?"

Joe tossed his pen aside and leaned his elbows on the desk. "No. But I’m sure he’d concur that we don’t want to do nothing that’ll put your baby in harm’s way." He smiled at my pout. "’Sides, after all day on your feet, don’t desk duty sound better than gallivanting all over hell and creation?"

Zelda grumbled too. "But we’re a team."

Joe nodded. "Tell me something I don’t know, Miss Zelda." He shrugged. "Eric can work the field with you.

Zelda stopped grumbling and perked right up. "Really?"

I smacked her arm. "Thanks for the support, partner."

Joe turned to me. "And before y'all have a hissy fit, rest assured I got something good for you too."

I sighed and slouched lower in my chair. "Sure, document searches, typing reports, filing." I clutched my chest. "Be still my heart."

Joe barked at me. "How many times do I gotta tell you, it’s all part of the job?"

I put my hands to my throat and stuck out my tongue. "Yeah, the boring part."

Joe called Eric out from the back office and he walked into the room with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a computer bag slung over the other. "Yeah?"

"You set?" Eric nodded. Joe turned to Zelda, "You go with Eric, he’ll read you in on the case while you’re driving." Zelda questioned me with her eyes. "What are you looking at her for?" Joe snapped his fingers. "Get the lead out, missy."

Zelda shrugged at me and tossed me her keys, then left with Eric.

I stared at the floor and wagged my foot.

"Oh quit your pouting and look at me." I gave Joe my reluctant attention. "Now, your job might surprise you Miss Scotti."

I sat up a little straighter. "I’m listening."

"No doubt you heard about the Devereaux case?"

That perked up my ears — a major media saturated case will do that to you. "The pregnant woman who was killed by her boyfriend?"

Joe frowned. "Allegedly killed by her boyfriend."

I scoffed. "Oh come on, everybody knows he did it. It’s a classic tale of murder — a woman living with one man gets pregnant by another? Jealous rage equals dead woman." I shuddered thinking about it. Not only had Tina Devereaux’s boyfriend, Spencer Atkinson, strangled her, but he’d also cut the baby out of her. The cops were still looking for the baby’s body. I cradled my stomach. "The prick should burn in hell."

He flapped his chubby arms. "So, he did it? No need to bother with the facts or the evidence?"

Just discussing the case made me squirm. "What’s it got to do with me? And by the way, calm down." I cradled my belly. "Don’t want to upset the baby now, do we?"

Joe ignored my snipe and said, "Dan Parker’s representing him."

I jumped out of my seat. "What?" Dan Parker was a criminal attorney who’d gotten me and Ted out a couple of pretty bad jams in the past. He and Joe went way back, but we considered him a friend too. "How could Dan represent such an evil bastard?"

Joe smirked and cocked his head. "Well there’s this here fancy document called the Constitution? You mighta heard of it. And it says everybody’s entitled to a defense. And our justice system? It’s based on the idea that you are innocent until proven guilty."

I sighed and shook my head. "Still…"

"Still, nothing. The man’s lawyer up and walked out on him, and Dan stepped in." He laced his fingers over his belly and rocked back in his chair. "It’s what you call a high-profile case. The kind that gets a lot of attention."

So Joe was pleased as punch to be on the dream team of an alleged wife and baby killer — that made me nauseous. I pursed my lips. "Never figured Dan for a media whore." I shrugged, "But then again he is a lawyer."

Joe lost his giddy grin and scowled at me. "Mind your manners."

I flapped a hand at him. "Again, what’s it got to do with me?"

Joe pawed through the clutter on his desk and dug out a thick file, held together with rubber bands. He slid the file across the desk to me. "You get to read this, then give us your analysis."

I didn’t take the file but frowned at it. "My analysis? Why?"

Joe threw up his hands and sighed. Clearly, I was supposed to be excited about the assignment and that I wasn’t was ruining all of Joe’s fun. "Always have to know why about everything?"

I eased back into my seat and nodded. "If you’re asking me to read a case that creeps me out and disgusts the hell out of me, yeah I’d like to know why."

Joe tapped the file. "That’s a copy. Take it home if you’d rather. When you’re done, call me."

I scowled at the file. "What if I don’t want to?"

Joe leaned back and folded his hands over his big belly. "You want to — it’s written all over your face. Your curiosity is what makes you good at this job."

"Curiosity doesn’t mean I have analytic skills."

Joe rocked forward and put his hands on the desktop. "Quit fishing for compliments. Everybody knows you got a sharp mind — so go use it and call me when you’re done."

It was decided, I was taking the assignment whether I liked it or not. What was really annoying was that Joe knew me so well that he knew I couldn’t resist. Sighing loudly, I stuffed the file in my bag then slung it over my shoulder. "It might take a while."

"Take all the time you need."

I started for the door then turned back. "You want me to do this because I’m pregnant, huh? It’s got nothing to do with my sharp mind, does it?"

Joe raised a curled hand to his ear and mouthed the words, "Call me," then went back to his document study. I stared at him, but he just said, "Go on. Get."

On the drive home, my eyes wandered to the file sticking out of the top of my bag. I didn’t like being a part of this guy’s case, but the seduction of knowing the gory details of a heinous crime did rev my engines. Still, I knew there was only one reason I was assigned to the task, and it wasn’t my brain. Since a sharp D.A. would try like hell to get as many pregnant women seated on the jury as possible, getting a pregnant woman’s view of the case could be invaluable to the defense. And if I wasn’t so damned curious, I would’ve felt exploited.

When I got home, I dumped everything on the coffee table and plopped onto the sofa. Ted wasn’t due for dinner for a couple of hours, so I could either read the file or take a nap. Staring at the folder, I could taste the curiosity in my mouth — sharp and tangy. I reached for the file, then my phone buzzed, and I jumped.

A text from Ted asking for a rain check on dinner because he and his brothers were working on the kitchen. Frowny face. I.L.U.

No Ted. No Zelda. Even Boomer was so preoccupied guarding his doggie treats he ignored me. Obviously the universe was telling me something — I pulled off the rubber bands and opened the file.

<<>>

When I awoke, I found Zelda staring at me from the easy chair. I squinted at her. "What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

I stretched then shimmied into a sitting position. The Atkinson file lay on the floor with some of the papers spilled out. "I must’ve dozed off. What time is it?"

Zelda was still thinking. "A little after seven."

Bending down, I gathered up the file and tossed it on the coffee table. "What is that, some kind of weird meditation you’re doing there?"

"Would you mind if Eric moved in before you move out?"

I yawned and sniffed the air. "Do I smell takeout?"

Zelda jerked her head toward the kitchen. "We stopped at Jimmy Dean’s on the way back."

Before she finished the sentence, I was in the kitchen tearing open the bag of junk food goodness. "Now we’re talking."

Zelda poured me a glass of club soda and said, "What do you think?"