Raisin the Dead (2 page)

“I guess there's some excitement now, but not the bad kind. Have you ever heard of Serafina Alessi?”

“Isn't she the woman behind Serafina Perfumes?”

“Yes. She's in Destiny, staying at Castle Shore.”

Jill's mouth dropped open. “You're kidding. Here? Do you know why?”

“No clue. I suppose we'll find out soon enough.”

A few days after I'd run into Jill, Lady Gaga's “Bad Romance” announced an incoming call at the absurd hour of six a.m. I fumbled to find my cell phone on my bedside table. A picture of my mother filled the screen when I finally grabbed it. “What's wrong, Mom? Is Daddy okay? Are you okay?”

“Of course, honey. Sorry if I woke you, but have you seen today's paper?”

“I'm still asleep. I was still asleep,” I croaked. “What's going on?”

“I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you might be up and going in to the bakery early. Philip Baldelli is dead. It's on the front page of the paper. He was on the Library Advisory Board. I saw him last week, and now he's dead!”

“What? Are you sure he's dead? He's the guy you had dinner with, right? Last week's paper had your picture on the front page with him.”

She groaned. “I've gotten a hundred calls and texts about it. You'd think we'd been photographed in bed naked in a room at the Holiday Inn, for heaven's sake. What would I be doing having an affair with a seventy-something-year-old man? Do people in this town have nothing else to worry about but their library director? I didn't know I was so important, or fascinating.”

I held the phone away from my ear, yawning while my mother moved on to disparage nosy newspaper reporters for a few seconds. Once she got going, good luck to anyone who tried to break in. I didn't think it prudent to interrupt her to tell her being nosy was probably part of a reporter's job description.

“Of course I'm sure he's dead,” she said, eventually answering my question. “It was in the paper! Philip and I, as I explained to your father, were discussing the library expansion, which, I don't mind telling you, is getting quite problematic. Between the frogs, the Westley House, then Philip and I arguing . . . Oh, I can't believe Philip's dead. It's so sad. Who would've killed him?”

I had arranged myself so that I sat with my legs dangling off the side of my four-poster bed. “Wait.” The sleepy fog in my brain cleared instantly. “Who said anything about him being killed?”

“Oh, no one, honey. I just have a bad feeling about his death. Maybe because of what happened to Calista. He had everything to live for. Do you know he and Jill McGinley were engaged? I don't know if I ever mentioned that to you.

“I was so thrilled for her, despite their age difference. It's not something I would do, but if she's happy, that's all that counts. Why would he die suddenly? One of our board members mentioned he had a respiratory infection that had been lingering for weeks, but I don't think it was life-threatening. I hadn't noticed that he was ill.”

“I saw Jill at Bread and Batter a few days ago. She told me all about her engagement. What a tragedy. Maybe Philip had a bad heart, or had a stroke, or some other kind of medical emergency. Maybe his infection turned into pneumonia.” Even as I said that, Jill's words from our meeting came back to me. “He's in excellent health.” I guess she hadn't known he was sick, which seemed strange, but I supposed it wasn't a huge deal. “How well did you know him?”

“Not that well personally, but professionally he was a nice man, a gentleman, even during our harsh argument the other night at Mia's.”

My mother is the epitome of etiquette, aplomb, and tact. Arguing harshly isn't her style, so her description surprised me. “What did you argue about?”

“He wanted to resign from the Library Advisory Board. He was feeling pressure from the groups that are against the library expansion. He was thinking of . . . Never mind. Suffice it to say we needed him on our side. Why didn't he call 911 if it was his heart, or something else?”

I shrugged, even though she couldn't see me. “Maybe it happened so fast, he didn't have time. Have you talked to Jill?”

“No. It's too early to call her. She's most likely devastated and heartbroken. You wait this long to get engaged, then poof, it's all gone. She didn't have an easy life, apparently. She told me that her father owned a drugstore while she was growing up. He worked a million hours a week and barely brought home any money. Jill's an only child who grew up poor, and never felt like her father loved her; she felt she was an extra expense to him. He wasn't nice to her or her mother, according to Jill.”

“Where is she from?”

“I'm not sure. She never said. Other than talking about her father, she's rather quiet about her past. She seems to have a knack with children, though. I'd have to check her file to see where she originally came from. Did you ever hear of Serafina Alessi?”

My brain took a few seconds to adjust to the abrupt subject change. I tried remembering what Kendra said about her. “Um . . . She owns Serafina Perfumes, and is estranged from her father or something. She had a big fight with her family and opened up her own company. Her family owns Alessi Perfumes. I think her mother—her parents are divorced—joined Serafina's company. Serafina's all over the internet and in magazines.”

“Ah, I knew you'd know all about her. Anyway, she's in town. She found Philip dead when she went to his house yesterday. At least, that's what the paper says. That must have scared her to death. She happens to be his great-niece. I had no idea. I was totally taken aback when I read that. Philip never mentioned a word about Serafina. You really should go read the paper, honey. I have to start the coffee. You know your father and I can't function without our morning coffee.” She disconnected.

I don't know how she got that all out in one breath. My mother has the frustrating habit of delivering news that prevents you from falling back asleep, or going on with your day, then hanging up. I didn't call her back. I wasn't going back to sleep, that's for sure. Philip was dead and Serafina was his great-niece? For a small town, there's never a dull moment. Death, however, was a little too un-dull.

I thought of Jill again and my heart plummeted. I prayed Philip had died of natural causes, and wasn't murdered. Not that I wanted him dead at all, of course. The thought of another murder in our town sent chills through me. No way. It wasn't possible. Was it?

It was too early to wake up Detective Sean Corsino to get his thoughts on it. If he was even home, and not out investigating Philip's death. Sean lives in the other apartment in Dorothy Rose Brand's Victorian house; Dottie to both of us. Not only is Dottie our landlady, but she makes a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies, and loves playing mother hen to both Sean and me. She also dogsits Noelle and Sean's Basset hound, Beau.

I went to the bathroom, threw on my robe, and brushed my wild mane. I wasn't disciplined enough to use a curling iron, curlers, or a flat iron every day. Not that it mattered right now. I was unlikely to run into Sean when I looked to see if my copy of
The
Destiny Trumpet
was here, although, one never knows.

The reason I mention running into him is that he's the hunky detective Olivia asked me about earlier. We've been involved since last Christmas. A car accident in New York City, where Sean is from, had taken the lives of his wife and their unborn child. He'd moved to Destiny to start over, away from the memories.

Sean has made me forget the last vestiges of my lingering feelings for my ex-husband, Brian Addair, which I love him for, but we're taking our new relationship slowly. So far, so good, despite our political differences, and the fact that I'm a lacto-ovo vegetarian, while he loves all things meat. We've become pretty good at navigating through our issues. Noelle was a gift to me from him this past Christmas. She's the light of my life.

I went down the stairs and opened the door to find
The Destiny Trumpet
waiting for me. I glanced over towards Sean's door. His copy was lying there, also ensconced in an orange plastic bag. I didn't bother going around the corner to see if his truck was parked in front of the house.

Once back in my apartment, I forgot about breakfast, and opened the paper to find Philip's death on the front page, as my mother had said. I also saw that Bobby Crandall, part-time reporter for our little paper, had scored an interview with Serafina Alessi. I wondered how he'd managed to do that so quickly.

It must be the salesperson in him. When he's not reporting Destiny news, he sells cars at Crandall Ford, the dealership I mentioned before. It's been in his family for generations. He's good at it, too. He almost had me trade in my beloved Prius for a Mustang. I'm still on the fence about it, but I can't admit that to Bobby. He'd have one sitting in my driveway in less than an hour.

Noelle decided she absolutely had to go outside, so I reluctantly left the paper on my dining room table while I threw on some clothes and put on her leash. The grass was still dewy, a light fog enveloped my quiet neighborhood in a cocoon, and the air was sweet with honeysuckle and gardenia. Now that I was fully awake, I wondered what my mother had meant by frogs and the Westley House. I'd have to remember to ask her.

When we got back home, I glanced at the microwave clock. I had to be at the bakery at eight, so that gave me an hour to read and then finish getting ready for my day. I fed Noelle, poured some cereal for myself, made a cup of tea, added honey to it, and picked up the paper again.

Philip Baldelli of Destiny was found dead late yesterday afternoon by his great-niece, Serafina Alessi, who is visiting from New York City. The police are investigating his death, but at this time, there is nothing to report. Details of his funeral are in the Obituary section. Destiny offers Serafina our collective condolences for her loss. She graciously granted permission to let me publish her interview, conducted mere hours before Mr. Baldelli's death, despite the shocking tragedy that has befallen her young soul. We assure her that Destiny is mourning right along with her.

I rolled my eyes at Bobby's hyperbole, but continued reading.

It's not every day that one of the rich and famous who visit Destiny's Castle Shore Hotel agrees to an interview by
The Destiny Trumpet.
Serafina Alessi, owner of the upscale international perfume company Serafina Perfumes, has agreed to answer a few questions for us. I caught up with Serafina in the lobby of Castle Shore.

My cereal forgotten, I read about Serafina's reason for being in Destiny. I'll cut to the chase. The very beautiful and wealthy Serafina (Bobby's description) was here to take a break from a relationship and forget about business for a while. She has a relative here. Philip Baldelli. She goes on to tell Bobby that they aren't close, but she's here on family business she can't discuss.

I hurriedly read the rest of the interview. I couldn't get over Philip Baldelli being Serafina's great-uncle. Apparently, Jill had no idea. Wouldn't Philip have mentioned it to her? Wouldn't he have introduced his great-niece to his fiancée? I felt sad for Jill all over again. I got up, rinsed my breakfast dishes, then grabbed my keys and purse, my mind still on Philip's death. I scooped up Noelle so I could drop her off at Dottie's. What family business was Serafina here for? Why can't she discuss it? I had no idea what Philip had done for a living; I assumed at his age he had long been retired. Whatever it had been, I was reasonably sure it had nothing to do with perfume.

The bakery had been open about an hour when a pink and black Rolls Royce nearly the size of a yacht floated up to the curb.

“Olivia!” I shouted. “I think she's here.”

She joined me at the front of the bakery so we could gawk out the window together while trying not to be too obvious. “Wow. How awesome is that car? I can't believe she's related to Philip Baldelli, God rest his soul.”

I nodded. “Sad. I was shocked when Mom called this morning.” As Serafina exited, we backed away from the window and became preoccupied with our stack of Bread and Batter Bakery t-shirts. She wore a white flouncy lace skirt that ended just above her tan bare knees, paired with a turquoise t-shirt. Neutral colored stilettos were on her feet. Her long platinum blonde hair (no frizz in sight) hung loose down her back.

“Welcome to Bread and Batter Bakery,” I said when she came in. “I'm so sorry about your great-uncle's death. I read about it in the paper.”

“Yes, we're both sorry. I'm Olivia Williams, and this is my business partner, Molly Tyler. We own Bread and Batter.”

She nodded slightly. Her lips may have quivered in an attempt to smile, or it may have been my imagination. She didn't look at all devastated by her great-uncle's death, which was understandable, I suppose, if she didn't know him that well. I managed not to ask her why she came to see Philip, and what business she had with him. I scooted behind the counter.

“Thank you,” she finally uttered. “We weren't close.” She studied our cupcakes before turning her attention to our bagels. “You call those bagels?” She eyed them as if they were a collection of lizards.

Olivia bristled while she glared at her back. She retorted before I did. “Yes, we call them bagels. They
are
bagels. Would you like one? I put them out this morning. The rosemary and herb variety are popular. So is the sourdough. They'll be gone soon.”

I unclenched my jaw. “We also make our own cream cheese. We have lots of flavors. Our cupcakes are also popular. We'll make any flavor you want.”

“Hmph,” she snorted.

Quite unladylike, if you ask me. I waited as she continued surveying our bagels. I wasn't sure what she was looking for, but her expression indicated she wasn't finding it.

She finally pointed to the metal bins against the back wall that housed them. Her ballerina pink nails were exactly the same color as the pink on her car. I wonder if she'd ordered the car to match her nail color. Did that mean she was stuck with that nail color? The diamond ring she wore sparkled like the sun's rays bouncing off Destiny Lake. “Let me see a plain one. Please hand it to me.” She motioned for me to hurry up.