The Focaccia Fatality (7 page)

I thought long and hard while I chewed the last remnant of the calzone crust. I shook my head and swallowed. “I don’t think I saw her there. There were a ton of guests wandering about. I may have missed her,” I said with a shrug.

“Think hard, Melina,” BettyJo insisted. “If we can put her there, the cops might be interested in knowing.”

I shrugged and said I hadn’t seen her.

Vinnie leaned back in her chair, glanced at BettyJo, and then focused on me. “I take it Porter Anderson has the lead in this investigation?”

“Seems so,” I answered. “Have you ever seen his boss? He looks like Captain Hook,” I added.

The sound of her laughter brought on my own, and that of BettyJo’s as Vinnie twirled the ends of a non-existent mustache. We’d laughed long and hard until my cell phone jingled.

I stared at the phone screen and showed it to the others. “Speak of the devil,” I remarked in a dry tone before taking the call.

I heard Porter say, “Don’t you answer your door?

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock,” I said.

“Let me in. I have something to tell you.”

“You’re not arresting me for anything, right?” I asked as I clomped down the stairs.

“No, just open the door.”

We were looking at one another through the kitchen window. I smiled, he didn’t. Yikes.

Once Porter entered, I beckoned him upstairs. His eyes widened a tad, but he followed me. The room was quiet until he stepped inside. Vinnie gave him a wide smile, while BettyJo invited him to take a seat.

“You’re just in time, Detective. We were talking about you just before you called. Perfect timing,” she said.

His brows rose, his eyes scanned the three of us, and he waited. It was a cop thing. They wait, and wait, and, well, you get the idea. They figure you’ll crack sooner or later. His gaze landed on Vinnie and stayed there. When she didn’t utter a sound, he said, “What’s this all about?”

“We know who the blonde is,” Vinnie said.

“So do I,” he remarked. “Eliza Vanderkemp is her name. How did you find out? No, never mind, Vin,” he said with a shake of his head. “I don’t want to know.”

“That’s not all,” I interrupted. “She’d had a fling with Joshua Hardin, the bloodhound look-alike I told you about.”

He inclined his head, gave a light sigh, and asked, “Uh, huh, what else?”

“Instead of Melina telling you, why don’t you share what you know and get it over with?” BettyJo asked shortly.

“I can’t tell you what I know. It might compromise the case. I will say this, Melina, you need to stop poking around.” Porter glared meaningfully at Vinnie and said, “That goes for you, too, Miss-I’m-So-Curious.”

Her smile grew into a chuckle while she shook her head. “You know me better than that, Porter. Honestly, though, I have no gain here except to help Melina out. I’m not involved, nor do I wish to be. I merely did a favor for a friend. Satisfied?”

“Glad to hear it. The same goes for you, BettyJo,” Porter warned. “Stay out of my investigation. I refuse to have the case compromised because you three can’t mind your own business.”

Before BettyJo could say a word, I intervened. “Fine, we’ll stay out of it, as long as you make it perfectly clear to Hardin and Gallagher that they should leave me alone.”

Porter slanted a look in my direction. “What do you mean?”

“Gallagher came by today. He said I’d never get catering work in this state again, that he’d personally see to it. I took it as a threat. What are you going to do about that, huh?”

He shook his head, rolled his eyes, and prepared to leave. “I’m not sure I can do anything about it, Melina. If you leave this alone, it could fade away into nothing. If you poke it with a stick, you’ll make enemies, and that won’t bode well for anyone.”

I stared at him and said shortly, “That’s what I thought you’d say.” I started to turn away and then glanced back at him. “Show yourself out, Porter.”

He gave us all a grim look, shook his head, and went down the stairs. I stepped to the doorway to listen for the sound of my kitchen door closing. When it did, I returned to sit with BettyJo and Vinnie.

“Do the cops talk to you like that all the time?” I asked Vinnie.

“More often than not,” she assured me with an impish grin. “I don’t let it bother me, though.”

Weary, I rubbed my face. “I can’t believe this nonsense. I have a heavy schedule, a grandmother to look after, and I don’t need to be worried that I’ll be ambushed by some stupid politician who’s got a hair across his butt.”

After consoling me, the two women readied to leave. They both offered assistance, should I need someone to run interference for me. It was nice to know somebody cared enough to do so, but I shook my head in refusal.

When they’d gone, I showered, changed into clean work clothes, and began to mix bread dough. With daylight savings time, morning seemed to arrive sooner and bright skies left early. I resented it, but tried to adjust. Darkness pressed against the windows. I flipped the outside lights on and felt better for it. Why I was so unsettled was likely due to my involvement in a dangerous affair.

While I kneaded dough, formed loaves to rise, and then mixed more, my thoughts turned toward Sean’s advice on Aidan Sinclair. Maybe I’d have been better off to listen to what Aidan was saying instead of spewing my hurt and anger all over the place. I pounded bread dough, slapped it hard on the surface, and realized I’d acted like an idiot. Was it too late for us? Did I have a chance to listen, instead of argue?

*    *    *

Finished for the night, I reached for my cell phone and punched in Aidan’s phone number. It rang three times. Ready to end the call, I heard Aidan say, “Lass, I’m glad you called.”

My heart missed a beat. I sucked in some air and said, “If it’s not too late, would you care to get a bite to eat at Mack’s on the corner?”

His gentle laugh sent relief zooming through me. “Sure, I’ll meet you there. Should I bring a shield? You were pretty upset the last time we spoke, and I figured I might need something to ward off the next assault.”

“That won’t be necessary. I promise this will be a calmer conversation. We do need to talk. I’ll see you there.” I straightened the cooking area, checked that the ovens were off, and grabbed my jacket as I left by the front door.

On the short walk to the corner, I checked everyone else’s window displays. Charlie Franklin’s collectibles were holiday related and richly colored. He’d dressed the windows with some sort of white spray that gave the viewer the impression winter had arrived and the Victorian village inside had recently gotten a snowstorm. It was beautiful and undoubtedly drew customers in without a second’s hesitation.

I’d moved on to Helena Bentwood’s The Crafty Cupcake Shop and admired the luscious delights in the window. All her fall decorations were now replaced by those reminiscent of Christmas in days gone by. Ornaments were suspended at various levels from the top of the window casing to mid-way down the wide glass pane. A wide variety of cupcakes nestled on silver platters and tiered cake holders that were dusted with artificial snowflakes. When I’d asked Helena if she replaced the cupcakes everyday with new ones, she laughed and said they weren’t real, but made of Styrofoam for display purposes. Each day she moved the cakes around to make it appear as if they were new and fresh.

George Carly’s shop looked much the same as it usually did, other than the twinkling lights he’d put around the bay windows. The colors danced merrily and brought attention to his shop. I wondered if I’d better add some decorations to my own place and gave it some thought as I entered Mack & Mutt’s.

An empty corner table suited my purposes perfectly. I could watch for Aidan’s arrival, enjoy the comings and goings of the neighborhood, and still be able to see what went on in the pizzeria. I’d shrugged out of my coat and draped it on the back of my chair when Aidan strolled into view. He’d parked across the street from the restaurant and hurried as quickly as he could, to reach my side of Wickendon Street before the light changed and traffic charged forward.

I waved when he caught sight of me in the window. His smile lit his entire face and hiked my pulse. BettyJo had made a good call when she’d said I was smitten with Aidan Sinclair. He’d entered the building and taken a seat across from me as Bill approached, his smile wide and knowing.

“Can I get you a menu or do you know what you want?” Bill said as he stared meaningfully at me.

I chuckled lightly, said I’d have a meatball and pepper sandwich. Aidan placed his order of a spinach calzone and ordered a couple bottles of beer to go with our food. Bill nodded, scribbled on his pad, and gave me a wink as he walked away.

“What was that about?” Aidan asked.

“No idea,” I said with a slight shake of my head.

His gaze held my own as he asked, “You’re not angry any longer, that’s good, yeah?”

I dipped my head in agreement and said, “It’s been a tough couple of days. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I should have listened when you wanted to talk. I apologize for that. If you’re still interested in explaining, I promise not to interrupt.”

His soft laughter filled my heart with warmth. Maybe it wasn’t too late for me to find out what had happened to him those months ago, when he’d disappeared so suddenly without a word.

“It would take more than your anger and disappointment to keep me away, lass. I wanted to give you some time to cool off before attempting another explanation.”

He looked up as Bill brought plates filled with steaming sandwiches and glasses for the two bottles of beer. “Thanks, Bill,” Aidan said.

Alone again, Aidan poured beer into the glasses. He handed me one and held his glass toward mine. “Cheers, lass.
Slàinte mhòr agad
!”

I gawked for a moment, waited for him to drink, and then asked, “Would you translate that for me?”

With a nod and a chuckle, Aidan said, “It means good health to you.”

I sat back and mulled his Scottish words over in my mind. “Thank you, now can you spell it?”

He spelled it and I gasped. “It doesn’t sound anything like that.” Instead, it was as if he’d uttered words that sounded more like slanj’-uh vorr’ ah’-kut.

His mouth full of food, he merely nodded. My hunger and good humor had returned. I made short work of my sandwich. When we’d both eaten half our meal, Aidan spoke of his broken promise of returning to propose marriage.

I toyed with my glass while he said, “In the wee hours that morning, I got a call from Scotland. My housekeeper had been taken to the hospital. There’d been a fire in my kitchen, which had quickly gotten out of control as she tried in vain to put it out. She is elderly, as you know, and she couldn’t get the fire extinguisher to work properly. That wasn’t bad enough. She nearly succumbed to smoke inhalation prior to the rescue workers’ arrival. When I found out how severe her situation was, along with the damage to the house, I caught the next plane from Boston and headed home. My intention was to call you as soon as I’d landed. Unfortunately for us, things didn’t go as planned.”

He took another swallow of beer, pointed to my sandwich, and said, “Eat.”

His next words astounded me. I dropped my sandwich onto the plate and wiped my mouth.

“On the way from Edinburgh to the estate, I went off the road to avoid a lorry that had taken the center as if he owned it. I broke several bones as the car flipped over. By the time I was admitted to the hospital, I was unconscious and didn’t gain consciousness for three weeks. The damage wasn’t life threatening, I just didn’t wake up. At least, that’s what I’m told.” Aidan sipped his beer.

“When I regained consciousness, I’d undergone two operations and pins were holding my hip and leg together.” He pointed to the cane. “Hence, the cane. At first, I was in a wheelchair, then I moved on to one of those walker things, and then I got well enough to use the cane. Soon, I won’t need that either, but until I gain full control of my leg and hip, it’s part of my attire.”

I reached across the table and laid my hand over his. “I’m sorry, I wish I’d known. Why didn’t you contact me after you were better?”

“I thought for sure I’d be wheelchair bound forever. The doctors couldn’t guarantee that I’d walk again. My body had rejected the first pins they’d inserted and the second set wasn’t much better. I didn’t want you to see me that way or live with me if I was an invalid, either.” He pushed his dish away and downed the rest of his beer.

“I see. Is your housekeeper all right?”

“She is. I’ve encouraged her to retire and she’s agreed. Right now, she’s training a new housekeeper to take her place.”

“I’m glad you’ve told me this, Aidan. I wasn’t sure what had happened to make you stay away and out of touch. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“Maybe, but I should have been less pigheaded about it all. I ought to have trusted that you’d handle the news with the same sensible attitude you use for everything else in your life. I shouldn’t have procrastinated in telling you.”

I snorted and then laughed. If he’d seen me a few hours before, he’d have changed his mind. My sensible attitude had been blown away by the wind as far as I was concerned. Vincent Gallagher made sure of that. I was certain there’d be a hard time ahead for me, possibly by their ability to wield power like an ax.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“It’s my turn to share with you,” I said. Two more beers and a while later, I’d given Aidan the scoop on my issues with Gallagher and Joshua Hardin.

His dark brows furrowed as his eyes took on a cold gleam. Aidan said, “That’s what was going on at the party and accounts for your abrupt departure?”

“That’s it. The end result here is, I might be in for a bit of trouble from those two. Rhode Island is a small state, where everyone knows someone who knows, or is related to, someone else. It doesn’t bode well for me if these idiots decide to put pressure on me and my business.”

With a look of disbelief, Aidan shook his head. “I doubt there’ll be any trouble. The politicians I know in Scotland would do anything to avoid scandal, which means they usually keep their mouths shut and watch what they’re doing.”