Raisin the Dead (5 page)

I looked up at Sean. “You want to come to the beach with me tomorrow? It's going to be another hot day. The dogs will love it.”

Sean grabbed my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “I'd love to, but I've got to go to work.”

“On Sunday?” I asked as we crossed the street.

“Yeah. I want to be there when the horses arrive. I'm having a meeting with the chief afterwards. With so many guys out sick, we need to redo our schedule. I won't be home until late.”

“Poor thing. Hope you get some sleep. Are the stables done?” We parked ourselves on one of the wooden benches in front of Manganiello's Pizza. The dogs settled in under the shade of a tree behind us.

“Yeah, they were finished last week. Let me know when you're free, I'll bring you to see them.”

“I'd love that.” The Destiny Police Department had recently received a grant from the state to add a small mounted unit to the police department. Sean was in charge. Three Percheron Thoroughbred Appaloosas were arriving from Pratt Equestrian Farm, about fifty miles away. “Can I ride one?”

He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Have you ever ridden?”

“Does riding a pony at my cousin's birthday party when I was eight count?”

He laughed and squeezed my hand. “I don't think so. Even if you were a gold medal–winning rider I couldn't let you ride. Insurance, public safety, and all that stuff.”

“Then I'll settle for a tour of the stables and a nuzzle from the horses after I feed them carrots and apples. What about you, do you ride?”

“I can hold my own.” He got up and stretched. “Ready to walk back?”

I reluctantly got up. The dogs looked less than thrilled to have their snoozes disturbed. I laughed at their woeful expressions. “Where did a city boy learn to ride a horse?”

“My family has a summer house in the Poconos and they board horses there. I rode as much as possible when I was young.”

“I always wanted a horse.”

“Consider yourself invited the next time I join my family in Pennsylvania.”

“I can't wait. You want to come over for dinner?” I asked. “I made vegetable lasagna last week. There's still lots in the freezer.”

“Oh, yeah. I'd be crazy to pass up your lasagna, even without the meat. Never thought I'd develop a taste for tofu. I've got a bottle of Holly Valley red wine. Should I bring it over?”

“Yum. By all means. I'll make a salad, too.”

We arrived back on our block in time to see a tall, thin, platinum blonde woman dressed in a flowing navy blue shift and white sandals get out of a nondescript green sedan in front of Dottie's house. She looked more like the type to be driving a Jaguar, but maybe it was a rental car. Sean stopped short. I glanced at him to find he was considerably paler than he'd been two minutes ago. His brow creased in a deep frown as he squinted.

“What's wrong? Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” he breathed so softly that I barely heard him. “What the hell?”

He was clearly surprised to see her. I couldn't tell if it was good surprised, or bad surprised. He took off at a fast clip. The dogs and I stepped up the pace to keep up. He stopped a foot away from her.

“Sean.”

“Felicia.”

So far, their conversation sounded like a bad soap opera. I waited for more. Tails and tongues wagging, both dogs looked up at us.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

She reached out her hand. Sean took it. Reluctantly, I'd like to think. I cleared my throat.

Sean turned to me. “I'm sorry. Molly, this is Felicia Russo.”

“Felicia Adams.” She looked back at Sean. “Blaine and I divorced.”

I noticed the accent on the word “divorced” and the meaningful look she gave to Sean. I'm nothing if not observant.

“That's too bad,” he responded.

She laughed. “Not! He was a jackass. Anyway, pleased to meet you, Polly.”

“Molly,” I corrected. I doubted if she heard. Her attention was back on Sean.

“I'll think I'll go upstairs,” I said. “Nice to meet you, too, Felicia.”

She nodded her head, but honestly, I don't think she'd be at all concerned if a sinkhole opened and swallowed me up. Her strong perfume was giving me a headache, even outside, so I wasn't that upset about having to leave.

“I'll see you in a little bit.” Sean grabbed my arm lightly, and pulled me in. He kissed me on the cheek.

“Okay.”

I climbed the steps to my apartment, wondering who Felicia was. I fed Noelle, stripped, and jumped in the shower. I'd just put on clean clothes, popped the lasagna in the oven, made a spinach salad with raspberry vinaigrette, and set my table for two when I heard a knock on my door. “Open,” I called.

Sean entered. Standing akimbo, he frowned. “Keep your door locked. I keep telling you that.”

“Calista's murderer was caught.”

“Doesn't mean there aren't other lunatics roaming around.”

“Like the lunatic who killed Philip Baldelli? And I don't mean my mother.”

He rolled his eyes and took me in his arms (after locking the door), then bent down for a real kiss. The kind that usually leads to a whole lot more. I reluctantly pulled away. First things first. “Where's your visitor? Should I set another place?”

“Jeez, I forgot the wine,” he said, ignoring my question. “Be right back.”

He left before I could protest. Two minutes later, he was back. I popped the bottle into the fridge, then went to the window. Her car was gone. “You didn't look too happy to see Felicia.”

He sank down on the couch and raked his fingers through his hair. “Oh, I'm not, believe me.”

I sat next to him. “Talk to me. Who is she? Are you all right?”

“I'm fine. She's Jordan's twin.”

My heart almost stopped. I expected ex-girlfriend, high school crush, childhood friend, maybe even ex-stalker. Not his deceased wife's twin sister. I'd never seen a picture of Jordan, so I had no idea. I certainly wouldn't have minded if Sean had her picture displayed in his apartment, but he'd assured me that wasn't something he wanted to do, even before he met me. So, Jordan's twin. No wonder he'd turned so pale. “Wow. What does she want?”

“She's worried about me.” He did those air quote-y things with his fingers around “worried.” “She thinks I'm not dealing with Jordan's death. She wants to spend some time with me. Doesn't make any sense. The only person Felicia ever worries about is Felicia.”

I tried to keep upbeat, but this wasn't exactly good news. How would he deal with having Felicia around? How long was she going to be around? Would it be a painful reminder of Jordan, or would it be like having Jordan again? The possibilities in my imagination were endless. “She's gorgeous.” I didn't know what else to say, and it wasn't a lie. I didn't want to cling to him and act all needy and childish. That wasn't me. Usually, at least.

He shrugged. “Not really. I mean, yeah, physically, maybe. Personality wise, she's nothing like Jordan was. Jordan was the sweet girl next door. She didn't primp and fawn over her appearance the way her twin did. She didn't care about spackling on makeup. Felicia is cold, like marble. She's a barracuda. Blaine was her third husband. Not surprised about the divorce.”

“Do you think you have dealt with Jordan's death?”

He took my hand. “You know I have, babe. I've talked about Jordan with you more than I've ever talked about her, and her death, with anyone. I accept that she's gone.” He caressed the side of my face. “My feelings for you aren't casual, you know. Our relationship means everything to me. I love being with you.”

I reached over and hugged him. “Me, too.” Neither of us had said the “L” word with an “I” before it and a “you” after it, but we were both okay with that.

“Where does she live?” I asked.

“Last I heard she was living in France or Greece. That was a long time ago. I didn't ask her. She barely kept in touch with her own family. I certainly had no reason to keep in touch.”

“Couldn't she have called you to ask you if you were dealing with Jordan's death?”

He grimaced. “She doesn't have my number. I don't want her to have it. I don't know why she decided to come up. She must have contacted my parents. It's bizarre. We've never been close. She was never close to Jordan.”

“Where is she now?”

“She's staying at Castle Shore. I told her you and I had dinner plans, and that I'd talk to her tomorrow. I didn't bother to tell her it was to convince her to leave.”

“She's welcome to join us for dinner.” I wasn't my mother's daughter for nothing. Rudeness is never okay, no matter who it is. Well, almost never okay. As with everything, exceptions sometimes must be made.

“She'll be fine. She said she wanted to order room service and get to bed. Tomorrow, I'll convince her that she's wasted her time, that she has nothing to worry about, and she can go home.”

A quiver went through me. I trusted Sean with my life and my heart. However, something in me didn't think that Felicia Adams was going to leave town because Sean told her to. Side note: I didn't think her being in town was going to be good for Sean. Or for us.

***

“That must be super weird for him,” said Olivia on Monday morning when I arrived at Bread and Batter and told her about Felicia's arrival. “What did he say about it?”

“He isn't happy. He was supposed to convince her yesterday that he's fine and she can leave. She's at Castle Shore.”

She stopped pulling bagels out of the oven and looked at me. “Did he?”

“I'm not sure. He was busy all day. The police department got a shipment of horses. We texted and he said he'd tell me everything the next time we saw each other.”

“Horses?”

I nodded. “They want to have a few men doing mounted patrol.”

Olivia smiled as her eyes got all dreamy. “Nothing sexier than a man in uniform on a horse.”

I had no argument for that and took a second myself to picture Sean in uniform and riding boots atop a large black stallion. Oh yeah, that would definitely work for me.

“So anyway, this Felicia woman showed up to see if he was okay, after all this time?” Olivia interrupted my daydreaming.

I nodded as I bit into a salt bagel I had just topped with cream cheese.

“How did she know he was here?”

“He thinks his parents must have told her.” I replied after my bagel had gone down. I took a drink of my hot chai latte with soy milk.

“You aren't worried are you?”

“Not at all. I trust Sean. Why should I worry? Our relationship is going really well. I don't own him, you know. He's free to talk to whomever he wants. Just because she looks like his ex-wife, I need to worry?”

“Uh-uh.” Olivia crossed her arms and looked at me.

“A little, I'm worried a little.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “I thought so. You wouldn't be human if you weren't. Sounds like she has an ulterior motive, but Sean's a great guy; despite the way he questioned us about Calista's murder, remember that? We can laugh about it now, but back then, it wasn't so funny. He's most definitely into you. I can tell.”

“He was intimidating, wasn't he? I think Felicia has an ulterior motive, too. I almost smelled it, even though I hate to be so cynical. It's not my business. Sean can handle her.”

A customer interrupted our conversation. And not just any customer. Lola Lipinski. She owns Lola's, a combination flower shop, tanning salon, and yoga studio that Olivia and I occasionally frequent. Oh, and she's Brian's—my previously mentioned ex-husband—fiancée. Destiny is a small town, so it's impossible for us to avoid each other totally, although, in the last few months, our relationship has gone from frosty to almost friendly.

I guess she finally understands I'm not a threat to her. Brian and I are through, the door on our relationship is closed and locked. Interesting that the more my feelings for Brian disappeared, the more I liked Lola. She didn't seem as brittle to me as she did when I first met her, and she'd developed a nice fashion sense since her engagement to Brian.

“Hi Lola,” Olivia greeted her. “What can we get for you?”

She looked away and hesitated before meeting my gaze and replying. “I understand if you want to say no, Molly, but I'd love if Bread and Batter would make my wedding cake.”

Olivia was waiting for me to answer. I waited a few seconds. No sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, no desire to burst into tears at the thought of Brian not being mine anymore, no regrets that our marriage hadn't worked out, no desire to run Lola out of town and confess my undying love to Brian.

“We'd love to,” I assured her. “Why don't you come with me, we'll discuss exactly what it is you're looking for.”

I guided her to the back of Bread and Batter. We had no sooner settled in the space Olivia and I generously refer to as our office, when a screech from the front of the bakery startled us both. We looked at each other with the same “What was that?” expression in our eyes, jumped out of our chairs, and hurried to the front of the bakery.

“My God, Kendra, was that you screeching?” I asked.

“Sorry about that. I didn't know you had a customer. Hey, Lola. You guys are not going to believe this.”

“What happened?” Olivia asked. “Tell us.”

“Okay. Detective Corsino,” she slanted her eyes at me, “was at Castle Shore talking to Serafina about that Baldelli guy's death.”

“That's it?” I asked. “That's the whole story?”

“I told you my cousin works there, right? Her name's Rochelle. She's a reservation manager at the front desk. Detective Corsino came in really early Sunday morning, practically before the sun had risen, and asked her to ring Serafina's room. He showed her his badge and he had a suit on.”

I was about to suggest Rochelle entertain a little discretion in what she broadcast vis a vis the police visiting the hotel, but Olivia had grabbed Kendra's arm, demanding to know more. Who was I to interrupt?

“When Serafina finally came downstairs—I guess she had to get dressed first or whatever—he asked Rochelle for a private conference room, and off they went.”

“I hardly think that's screech-worthy. You scared Lola and me half to death.” I reproached.

“Sorry, Moll.” She thrust
The Destiny Trumpet
at us. “This might be worth screeching about.”

I grabbed the paper from her. Lola and Olivia peered over my shoulder. The girl was right. It was screechworthy.

The coroner has ruled the death of Philip Baldelli suspicious. Detective Corsino of the Destiny Police Department is conducting a full investigation. The autopsy determined that his kidneys contained a substance suspected to be ethylene glycol, a chemical found in antifreeze. Further toxicology testing will be done.

The four of us stood there, our mouths hanging open. At least mine was.

“It means someone killed him, doesn't it?” asked Kendra.

“Not again,” breathed Lola. She held out an arm. “Look, I've got goose bumps.”

“Me too,” I replied, my eyes still glued to the paper.

“Antifreeze?” echoed Olivia, her voice quaking. “How did antifreeze get inside him?”

“Let's not jump to conclusions. It doesn't mean someone killed him,” I assured them with more confidence then I felt. “It says the substance is
suspected
to be ethylene glycol. It could be something else.”

“Like what, Molly?” asked Olivia.

“I have no idea. But it doesn't say anything about murder.”

“No,” agreed Lola, “but it does say his death is suspicious and the police are investigating. ‘Suspicious' and ‘investigating' usually go along with a crime. A crime that could be murder. How are we supposed to feel safe with another killer running around?”

“Maybe he killed himself,” Kendra put in.

“It could be any number of ‘maybes,'” I suggested, although everything about this did point to foul play of some kind, like murder, maybe?

“Does the paper say anything about a note?” asked Olivia. “I didn't read anything about a note. If it was a suicide, wouldn't there have been a note?”

“You know the police never release all the information they have,” said Lola. “Molly, can you ask Sean about it? Ask him if this poor man was murdered.”

“I can, but he won't tell me anything.”

Kendra elbowed me. “Maybe if you put on some sexy lingerie and give him wine, he'll open up.”

I tried looking stern, which isn't a look or attitude I do particularly well. “That won't work, Kendra. I respect Sean's job, and him. I don't like to interfere or try to pry information . . .” I let the rest of the sentence fade. It sounded ridiculous, even to me.