Murder Al Dente: A Southern Pasta Shop Mystery (Southern Pasta Shop Mysteries Book 1) (28 page)

I hadn
't done anything wrong, no matter how it had looked to them. "Let him go after her and explain before it's too late. We were just talking, and it was an innocent kiss. No chemistry whatsoever."

"
Hey," Kyle's tone was clearly offended.

I elbowed him in the ribs.
"Well, the truth hurts. Zero chemistry left. In fact, if there's such a thing as negative chemistry, we've got it. A total deficit of attraction. Now, if we're done with the drama, I have a pasta-eating contest to prep for."

I pushed past them, hoping Jones would relent so Kyle could chase Lizzy down before matters grew worse. Poor Lizzy, she was having a hell of a day.

The thought was so foreign that I stopped and mulled it over. Could I, Andy Buckland actually pity Princess Lizzy Tillman? I shrugged and continued on my way. Stranger things had happened.

Retreating to the inner sanctum of the kitchen, I sent Mimi out front to serve
and answer questions. After telling her side of the story to Detective Brown, Mimi remained a curiosity to the folks in town. No news about her permanent visa yet, but by the end of the week she'd have enough local character witnesses to vouch for her. Hiring her to work at the Bowtie Angel was the smartest thing I'd done since I got back here.

Sleeping with Jones on the other hand…

Without a word, Aunt Cecily handed me the Chef's knife and gestured toward a mountain of freshly washed peppers. Bing Crosby crooned as we chopped and diced, sautéed and stirred. Aunt Cecily disappeared for a while, and I lost myself in the familiar rhythms of making fresh pasta. The Spring Fling was less than a week away, and we had to be ready on all fronts. Thoughts of Jones crept in, but I ruthlessly pushed them aside. Just because I understood where his distrust came from now didn't mean I was going to put up with it. I was tired of people always thinking the worst of me. If he was going to be a big old drama queen like his sister, I was better off washing my hands of him now.

I was elbow deep in a mountain of dishes when Mimi reentered the kitchen. Aunt Cecily hadn
't complained about her once, which was like a ringing endorsement. "Aunt Cecily likes you."

"
I like her, too." Mimi dried the large sauce pot and hung it on its hook. She was a fast learner.

"
Really?" I raised an eyebrow, but then made a face. "Well, I think she's a step up from Farnsworth anyway. Is the shop closed?"

"
Yes. And your man is waiting for you."

The pan I
'd been about to rinse clattered in the sink. "Jones is still here?"

Mimi took the pan from me.
"Yes. Your aunt gave him dinner."

Of course she did.
"Okay. Well, take the van home when you're finished. There's a spaghetti pie in the fridge for you and Pops and Cecily. If you can make sure Pops eats, I'd appreciate it." It wouldn't hurt to have two tiny women urging him to eat.

Mimi agreed to look after my relatives. In turn, I took the other spaghetti pie from the oven, set it in a hot carrier, and turned to face the music.

Aunt Cecily stood over Jones, hawking him while he ate whatever she'd served him.

"
You must feed your man. He is too thin. Thin men get restless, and then they get into trouble. Best to keep them fat and well satisfied."

Jones choked.

"Noted," I said, putting down the carrier to pound him on the back. "I'll take it from here."

Her eyes narrowed on me as though she doubted my words. Then she turned and left to torture Mimi some more before calling it a night. I made a mental note to give our new hire a raise as soon as fiscally possible.

"So, here you are." I studied the table. There were four empty plates stacked there. Maybe he'd had company. Though now that I thought about it, other than me, Aunt Cecily, and Lizzy, no one in town spoke to him. "How long have you been here?"

"
Since you went to hide in the kitchen."

I blinked, stunned.
"That was four hours ago!"

"
A meal for every hour." He waved at the plates.

I sat down across from him.
"Why?"

"
She told you, to fatten me up."

"
No, I mean why have you been sitting here all this time?"

"
To apologize." He took my hand in his. "For jumping to conclusions."

I let out a breath I didn
't realize I'd been holding. "I can't believe you ate four Italian dinners for me." He might have well slayed a dragon.

The lines around his eyes crinkled as he said,
"It was an arduous task, but I persevered."

"
So you believe me? That there was nothing going on with Kyle?" His presence said so, but I needed to hear the words.

He nodded once.
"I do. It took me a little while."

After what I
'd learned last night, I understood why he'd been ready to think the worst of me. The fact that his brain had overcome his knee-jerk reaction spoke volumes. He knew me, and he trusted me. "At least you got there."

He nodded at the dish.
"Are you going somewhere?"

"
The Spring Fling committee meeting. It's over at the first Lutheran Church. I need to get going if I'm going to make it there on time."

"
May I walk with you?"

"
If you can still walk after all that food."

Jones took the carrier and waited while I flipped the sign in front from opened to closed. Mimi, Aunt Cecily
, and the van were gone, so I turned out the lights and locked up.

"
What about Lizzy and Kyle?"

Jones made a face.
"That was not going so well."

"
Kyle's a world class groveler. His mother is a harridan of mythic proportions, and she trained him to own up to his mistakes, both real and imagined. Trust me, it will blow over. Though I'm pretty sure your sister's bad opinion of me is here to stay." I glanced up at him out of the corner of my eye. "Does it bother you?"

"
That you and Elizabeth will never get along? No." His tone was matter of fact.

We made it to the
Lutheran Church. "Do you want to come in? After the food orgy Aunt Cecily subjected you to, I doubt I can tempt you with dinner."

"
You tempt me in other ways." His voice was thick and smoky. "But I want to check on my sister."

"
Are you sure that's all it is?"

"
What else would it be?"

"
The people in town still haven't warmed up to you." I toed a crack in the sidewalk.

"
Well, I think the reason for that's obvious isn't it?"

I stared stupidly up at him.
"What reason?"

"
They are all protecting you." He kissed me again and left me there, having gotten in the last word.

* * *

Over the next week, I worked from sunup 'til sundown preparing for the Spring Fling and the Bowtie Angel's first ever pasta-eating contest. I'd sent press releases as far south as Atlanta and as far north as Richmond, all the way to the Blue Ridge Mountains on the west and the Atlantic on the East. The early May weather was shaping up to be perfect. Mid-eighties and sunny, and the honeysuckle had started to bloom.

There were no new developments on Chef Farnsworth
's murder, although the story made the newspapers, this time on a national level. My name was mentioned several times, and a quick rehashing of my disastrous debut came up often. The town seemed to shrug it off, and I followed their example the best I could. Being busy kept me from dwelling on past mistakes.

Jones stopped by the pasta shop every day. He photographed everything, the food, the building and much to my dismay, me.

"Face it Andrea, you're as much of a draw as the food." He raised the camera and shifted to catch me at another angle.

"
You make me sound like a sideshow freak," I groused as I stirred.

Click, click.
"A beautiful sideshow freak."

Though I never wore makeup for cooking, I made a mental note to apply a little lip gloss and mascara if Jones was going to be around.

"What are you making?" He asked as he checked the light again.

"
Gravy."

He frowned and lowered the lens of his camera to the pot.
"It's red."

"
Gravy is what Italians call spaghetti sauce. Marinara is smooth, just red sauce and spice, but gravy is meant to be hearty."

Aunt Cecily shuffled in. She eyed Jones and his camera and then turned her back on him as she moved to the food processor.

"You make too much."

"
Pot, this is kettle calling, and I'm sorry to say it, but you're black," I muttered.

Jones turned away, pretending to check something on his camera.
"Who will eat all this?"

We
'd gone through this bit every day, my aunt playing the Devil's Advocate instead of her classic role as Beelzebub. "It's for the Spring Fling booth."

"
It will not be fresh."

A sharp pain stabbed into my temple.
"I'm freezing most of it. We can't make fresh food for the booth and the contest."

"
Porca Madonna
,
Porco Dio
," she uttered and left us to our foolishness.

"
What did she say?"

"
Pig of a holy mother and pig of God."

"
Do all Italian curses involve pigs?"

"
Just the good ones. According to Nana, any lame-brained idiot can swear, but a really inventive cussing conveys derision without the filth. Aunt Cecily is a master of her craft."

"
Derision present and accounted for," Jones said.

I worried my lower lip and reduced the heat under the gravy. Though I tried not to let Cecily
's pessimism get to me, I had my own doubts. Not just about the future of the Bowtie Angel. Based off of Mimi's information, Detective Brown had been questioning all the women who'd attended Lizzy and Kyle's engagement party, myself included. From where I stood he was no closer to catching the killer.

"
Are you all right?" Jones set the camera aside.

I pushed
off the unease. "Yeah."

"
What do you have for me to try tonight?" Jones asked.

We
'd fallen into a pattern. He'd pick me up after the pasta shop closed and bring me home where I'd shamelessly use him as my guinea pig on new pasta recipes. Then later I'd use him in other ways.

It scared me a little, how used to his company I was after such a short time. We focused on the short term, revolving around our immediate goals. Lord knew there was enough to do to occupy our hands and minds. But one of these days we
'd have to discuss the future.

I planned to stall that conversation as long as possible. After all, how could I commit to a future when my present was so unstable?

Refocusing on the present I cleared my throat and removed the gravy from the heat. "I'm fresh out of ideas. Anyway, I was thinking of staying with Pops tonight. Would you like to come over for dinner?"

"
Is it safe?" One jet eyebrow went up.

Though Jones had Aunt Cecily
's stamp of approval, Pops was a little more hesitant and much more suspicious.

"
He's an accountant, not a wise guy. Besides he has no room to judge—I'm a grown woman. How I spend my nights is my own business."

"
You're his granddaughter," he pointed out. "It's different."

"
All the more reason you should meet him formally."

"
I'll come on one condition."

I stilled where I
'd been transferring my gravy to the Tupperware, one ladle full at a time. "Name it."

"
You return the favor. Come meet my family."

I blinked, then frowned.
"I've know the Tillmans for years."

"
Not as my significant other."

Heat from more than just the sauce colored my cheeks.
"Is that anything like a girlfriend?"

He moved closer. His voice had picked up that suggestive edge that made all my feminine parts sit up and take notice.
"It's exactly like a girlfriend, only more…significant."

"
I swear, with that accent of yours you could talk me into anything."

"
Good to know," Jones said, and I knew we'd be late to dinner.