Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) (12 page)

Connor shrugged. “We had a falling out, and I removed myself from the business. It happens. I still get a discount when I eat there.” He grinned somewhat sheepishly.

“So that’s why we go there a lot?” J.J. asked and burst out laughing.

“Guilty.”

“What if Mr. Marcotti had a business partner at one point,” Michael suggested, “and it ended on a much worse note?”

J.J. looked from one to the other. “Wouldn’t we have heard about that? Connor, do you know if that’s possible?”

“I don’t. You know, when I dove in it was at the beginning of the fusion phase, and we didn’t have much to do with the others in the more mainstream restaurant business. I could ask around, though.”

“That would be great.” J.J. thought she could do the same, but the more questions being asked the better. Someone had to know something.

Get with the program, Tanner.
J.J. kept the mantra going in her head throughout the morning’s workout with Candy. After what she’d eaten the night before, she had to make amends. Calories galore needed to be defeated.

She’d just finished her thirty minutes on the treadmill and stopped for a water break. It was now or never. She didn’t think she’d make it through the week and get another shot at talking to Candy. “Candy, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Is this a way to grab more of a break?”

J.J. laughed. “Not really. I’d heard some of the women in the locker room talking, and I wondered how you were holding up?”

Candy cocked her head and looked confused. “What do you mean?”

J.J. tried to look apologetic and uncomfortable. She didn’t
want to throw Candy off by sounding too nosy. “You know, the murder and all. I heard you were very close to Antonio Marcotti.”

Candy almost choked on the piece of gum she’d popped into her mouth. Her face ran through a series of emotional changes, from shock to embarrassment followed by something closer to horror. “Who told you that? No one is supposed to know. Is that really what they’re talking about? OMG, I’m so mortified.” She glanced all around her.

J.J. felt immediately abashed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Me and my big mouth. I may be way off base. You know how you sometimes hear bits and pieces and make an entirely different story appear? Forget I said anything.”

Candy stared at her a few more seconds without saying anything, and J.J. feared she’d lost this round and seriously doubted she’d get another chance.

“You seem nice enough, not like some of the more catty shrews we get around here.” Cathy sighed. “You know, I’m not really in the mood to continue the session right now. Do you mind if I make up the time to you next time? Can you stay a bit longer then?”

“I can. But I feel bad that I’ve obviously upset you. Do you want to go for a coffee? Can you get away for a short while?”

Candy nodded. “You’re right. I probably should get out of here, until after the memorial service anyway. He owned part of this fitness club, you know? I try not to let my feelings show when I’m in here. But it’s really hard, you know?”

J.J. nodded her head but was afraid if she spoke, it might stop Candy from continuing.

“Yeah, he hired me a couple of years ago, and then . . . Let’s go next door to the Java Joint. I could use some caffeine.”

Grateful for being rescued from the agony of doing
weights, J.J. quickly changed and found Candy waiting at the front desk. She’d thrown a light cotton sweater over her workout clothes. She led the way next door.

They grabbed coffees at the counter and found a spot at the bar set up to overlook the parking lot. J.J. waited for Candy to make the first move. She hoped it would be to continue with her story.

“It didn’t take long for Big T and me to get it on. That’s what he wanted me to call him, Big T.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “He was such a generous guy, always bringing me gifts. I love jewelry, you know, and he really knew how to make a girl feel special. He couldn’t take me out anywhere, so he found me a condo with a gorgeous view and a romantic balcony, so we could eat out. Get it? He was a really sweet guy.”

J.J. wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She’d heard a lot more than she’d expected, and she tried not to be judgmental.

Candy continued after taking a long drink. “I know what people are thinking and probably saying. Here’s this old guy and this young chick, young enough to be his granddaughter. And I’ll admit, I was sort of turned off by the age difference at the start, but he was so kind and so gentle. You know, a lot of guys just take me for a dumb blonde. But not Big T. He listened to me like what I said really counted. And then the romancing started, and all the rest just didn’t seem to matter. Can you understand that?”

J.J. nodded, although she couldn’t relate. “This must all be very hard on you.”

She nodded. “It is. You know, I was really blown away by him. We had so much in common, you know? I thought what would make it perfect was if he left his wife, but I knew right from the get-go that he’d never do that. He told me so, and after a while it didn’t really matter so much. I knew I was special to him. And besides, they weren’t
together
anymore, if you know
what I mean.” She sniffed and pulled another tissue out of her pocket.

“I’m sorry for your pain,” J.J. said softly. She felt bad for Candy but knew she had to persist if she wanted answers. “Do you mind my asking, had you ever thought of ending it?”

For a moment she worried she may have pushed the boundaries, but Candy’s eyes widened and she whispered, “Oh, I could never leave him.”

Time for another approach. “I hope the police haven’t been hassling you too much. I know they look really closely at the people closest to a victim.”

Candy shrugged. “They did ask if I’d killed him, but I said I could never do such a horrible thing to him. I think I might have loved him even, you know?”

And they believed you?
Funny, though: J.J. did believe her.

“Did he ever talk to you about either of his businesses?” What if they’d been focusing on the wrong one? Maybe it was the fitness center that needed probing.

“No. Not really. Well, maybe once or twice. Everything was going great guns with High Time. It was making money hand over fist, he said. But a few weeks ago, he looked really upset one night and I made him tell me. He was worried about his restaurant. He thought that his head chef might be leaving him and stealing some of his recipes, too.”

Wow.
Was that a great motive or what? “That would have been hard on him.”

Candy tried to smile but it fell flat. “It was good to talk to you about all this, J.J. I don’t know if you believe me or not, but I needed to get it all out. I think now I’ll go and grab my stuff and take the rest of the week off. Friday is the memorial service and I plan to be there, wanted or not. After that, I guess I’d better start planning the rest of my life.”

She gave J.J. a quick hug and walked out, head held high.

J.J. hadn’t been at her desk for more than five minutes the next morning when Tansy came rushing in. “I have some news for you. And for this, you’d better have good news for me soon.”

J.J. nodded, although she hadn’t even approached Evan about the paint job as yet. “What is it?”

“The police have charged Rocco Gates with murder. It seems they found the murder weapon. It’s a knife, part of a set from the Rocco G’s kitchen.”

J.J. felt a sinking sensation but wouldn’t give in to it. “You’re sure?”

“That’s what reliable contacts are all about. Of course, I’m sure.”

“How bad does that make it?”

“Well, it may also depend on whose prints were found on the knife. I couldn’t find anything out about that, but I’ll bet his were on it for sure. It is his kitchen, after all. It doesn’t look good for him, I’m sorry to say.” Tansy did look sorry,
and J.J. felt momentarily abashed that she hadn’t yet done her part of the deal.

“Thanks, Tansy.”

Tansy lifted her eyebrows and tapped her foot.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to Evan but I will, I promise.” Tansy still didn’t move. “Before the weekend.”

“Okay. I’m trusting you on this.” She left as quickly as she’d entered.

J.J. sighed.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Skye said. “Look, what if he is the murderer? You don’t really know him all that well. You may be overly convinced he’s innocent because he’s like an Italian cooking mentor to you.”

“I’m grateful and all that, but it goes beyond. I’m pretty sure he didn’t do it. Call it instinct or a gut feeling. You know, he sounded entirely shocked about the news, and he readily admitted to the feud they’d been having over all these years. Would a murderer admit to a motive?”

“Maybe if he were super smart and trying to throw you off the trail.”

J.J. gave that some thought. “I really don’t think he’d do that. But if he is guilty, I’ll be totally devastated and never rely on my own judgment again.”

“I’m glad you’re taking this in a calm, understated way.”

J.J. made a face at her. “But how could someone get at one of his knives?” J.J. sat thinking for a few minutes and then flipped off her computer. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“I hope you’re doing some brainstorming while doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

J.J. wiggled her fingers over her shoulder and added another idea to the whiteboard as she left.

It took just under ten minutes to walk to Rocco G’s. She was pleased to see it was open and wondered who she’d find behind the counter as she opened the door.

To her delight, Rocco’s cook stood there. It looked like he was wearing the same clothes as last time she’d been in.

“Hi, Hank, remember me? J.J. Tanner?”
The person you tried to avoid the other day?

He gave her the same look of disinterest as the last time she’d talked to him. No guilt. No evasive glance. Maybe it hadn’t been him later that day after all. Then who? Should she ask if there’d been a robbery?

Looking around the room, she walked closer and leaned against the counter. It looked just the same as the last time she’d been in, except this time it was empty. Where was Zoe? Where was the noon-hour rush? Did bad news travel that fast?

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions. I can see you’re not busy right now.”

“I have a takeout I have to prepare.”

“Okay. How about if I go out back with you while you do it?”

Ransom shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Where’s Zoe?”

“Look around. Does it look like we need anyone else working here? I promised Rocco I’d keep the noon-hour business going. We’re closed the rest of the day. For now.”

J.J. followed him through the swinging door and immediately eyeballed the countertops, searching for the knives. A couple of knife blocks sat on the counter next to the fridge. She wandered over.

“I understand that the police have found the murder weapon and it’s one of Rocco’s knives.” She noticed one empty slot in one of the blocks.

“He didn’t do it.”

“I agree, but how could one of his knives be used? Who has access back here?”

Ransom’s face turned dark. “I do, of course. Are you accusing me?”

“No, no, of course not. There must be others who come back here.”

“Zoe does. The delivery guys. Rocco, of course.” He shrugged.

“Would it be possible for someone else to just wander in and, say, grab a knife?” She looked over at the door leading outside.

“Possible but not probable.” He was still glaring at her.

“Hm. Do you have any theories?”

“No. But I do know Rocco wouldn’t kill somebody. Him and Marcotti were always arguing, but it was like a good type of arguing. You know? When you’ve been doing it so long, it wouldn’t be right not to? Do you know what I mean?”

“Maybe. That’s interesting. How well did you know Marcotti?”

“Well enough to know he was a bastard.” He stood up straight and folded his arms in front of him. “But not enough to have a reason to kill him.”

J.J. tried to stand her ground. She didn’t like feeling intimidated. “How long have you worked here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I don’t mean any offense. I was just curious. Are you from the village?”

“Again, none of your business.”

“Okay, one more question and then I’ll leave. Why didn’t you answer the door the other afternoon? I know you saw me.”

The bell above the front door rang and Ransom suggested, with outstretched hand, that J.J. precede him through to the front. He stood behind the counter and watched as the new customer glanced at the board of daily specials and sat in a chair.

“I’m busy. Time for you to leave,” Ransom hissed as he prepared to take the order.

J.J. took the hint and left, glancing back at him before
closing the door. Hank Ransom had been more talkative than she’d expected, so that was good. But she didn’t really like the guy and tried coming up with reasons for Hank Ransom to kill Marcotti all the way back to the office, but she couldn’t come up with any outstanding ones.

Skye had left for the day, according to her note. Another note, taped to J.J.’s computer, had one word on it: Ideas?

J.J. sighed and switched the computer on, poured herself a glass of water, and sat with a thud. Ideas, indeed. She’d have to abandon the ones she’d tried coming up with for the identity of the murderer and think of one, just one dynamite idea to blow Olivia Barker out of the water.

J.J. watched the second hand on the wall clock slowly inch along. This was not conducive to producing ideas.

She had to get an edge over her rival, J.J. knew, but what she didn’t know was how to do it. She’d come up with this brilliant, if she did say so herself, idea for the retirement party. The patio party at the Walkton Club. Not many could get a booking there without being members, but it helped to know people. She wondered how her competitor would manage to book the place. She’d always been a bit hesitant in using contacts for anything other than ideas, but she’d had to give that up when she entered the world of event planning. She was trying to build a solid reputation for the unusual. Now, for the zinger. She started pacing, which was always guaranteed to get the juices flowing.

Something personal. That was it. So far, the party revolved around the guest of honor’s place in the business community, but what about the real him? What were his outside interests? That was it, but how to find out?
The obvious way—just ask.

She placed a call to Kirking Manufacturing and asked
the receptionist if she could suggest the name of a close friend of the retiree being feted. It took a few minutes, but she was finally put through to a coworker in the accounting department. After talking for about twenty minutes, J.J. knew she had her idea. Now she needed to do a bit of research on availability and pricing, write up the proposal, and make sure it sat in Olivia Barker’s e-mail on Friday.