Yappy Hour (23 page)

The first place I looked was the small storage room that Yolanda wanted Evie to rent in exchange for the storefront side. Rachel had several boxes stacked there, mostly liquor but a few marketing boxes with leashes, bowls, and even doggie sweaters with the Wine and Bark logo on them.

When I finished searching the small storage room, I rummaged around behind the bar, opening and closing every conceivable drawer I could find. Beepo followed me around as I scoured the bar, yapping at me until I gave him a Bark Bite. Next, I searched the makeshift kitchen and came up emptyhanded.

I shuddered, thinking that I'd left Max alone in the bar the other night when I'd gone to DelVecchio's … could Max have taken the gun? Did he have a reason to frame Rachel?

Where else could the gun be? Was it at her apartment and I'd missed it? Of course, I'd had no reason to look for it when I'd been there last.

Through the window I could see Gus making his way across the courtyard. I grabbed a decent bottle of merlot and rushed out to meet him.

*   *   *

The smell of tagliatelle al sugo di funghi permeated my entire apartment. At the farmers market we'd picked up the key ingredients, like mushrooms, onions, and garlic. Gus sang in the kitchen while he cooked and I pored over his spreadsheets.

The restaurant brought in plenty of money, yet every month showed a loss. It seemed like money had been disappearing every which way. Poor cash handling, poor records, and worse, poor management on Dan's part.

And worse still, it was clear that someone was stealing from DelVecchio's.

A sickening thought kept pinballing around my head: either Dan had taken the money and Gus was innocent, or someone else was stealing it.… Could Dan have been killed to keep the truth from coming out?

I shifted on the couch to watch Gus cook. He was chopping garlic so expertly it looked like a dance.

He must have felt my gaze, because he looked up and asked, “You like garlic bread, Maggie?”

“Love it,” I said.

A smile brightened his face, but I could see the toll the night at the police station had taken on him. He uncorked the bottle of merlot and poured me a healthy serving. “Did you know new studies show drinking wine is better for you than going to the gym?”

I took the glass he offered and smiled. “Somehow I've always known that.”

“Me too,” he said, sipping from his own glass.

“Anyway, I think I'm allergic to gyms.”

He chuckled. “Well, they certainly don't smell like this.” He sniffed the wine, which was slowly opening up and becoming fragrant, but it was no competition for the aroma wafting out from the cooking garlic bread.

He leaned back on one of the bar stools at my kitchen counter, crossing his long, jean-clad legs at the ankle. I couldn't help but notice how sexy and taut his entire body was.

Trying to navigate to a safe topic, I said, “Hmmm. I think it smells like heaven in here. Don't you?”

He said, “Only if heaven smells like garlic.”

“Well, what else can it smell like?”

Gus smiled. “The ocean: salty, rich, and intense.”

“Does intensity smell?”

“Yeah.”

“It does? What does it smell like?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Energy. Metallic.”

A chill came over me, goose bumps covered my arms, and I shuddered.

Gus frowned. “What is it?”

“Metallic. That's what blood smells like. The Wine and Bark, when I went in that night and found Dan dead—there was a metallic scent in the air.”

Gus's face grew solemn, and he dragged a hand through his thick dark hair.

“I heard a rumor that Rachel wanted to buy Dan out. Was that true?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No.”

We stared at each other.

He shrugged. “Did Yolanda tell you that, too?”

Beepo's ears perked up at his mistress's name, and he kept his eyes on Gus, waiting for an invitation to yowl at him.

I thought about what else Yolanda had said about Gus. Seemed like there was history there.…

Gus sipped his wine and eyed Beepo. “I won't say anything bad about her in front of her dog.”

Beepo let out a deep growl followed by a sharp bark.

Gus nodded. “I know. I feel that way, too.”

Laughing, I said, “You talk dog now?”

He shook his head. “I'm not a dog whisperer.”

“Me either,” I admitted.

“How'd you get stuck watching him?”

Beepo looked at me, his Yorkie ears perking up.

“Yolanda jetted out of here to Vegas. She was asked to be an exhibitor in some accessory show.”

Gus let out a laugh that started like a locomotive: first a chuckle, then a sidesplitting guffaw. “Not for those God-awful chicken bags. Please tell me it's not a trend.”

Laughter bubbled out of me until tears spilled out my eyes. We laughed so hard we ended up leaning against each other; suddenly, we were belly to belly, chest to chest, our faces inches away from each other.

My breath caught as he leaned into me, tilting his head so that our foreheads and noses touched. “Maggie,” he whispered.

“Hmmm,” I whispered back.

“You're driving me crazy,” he said in low voice. His hand wrapped around my waist and he pulled me closer.

“Why's that?”

“Because all you want to do is talk about Dan and Rachel, and Yolanda and her stupid dog,” he whispered. Beepo yowled up at us. “And all I want to do is kiss you,” he said.

I looked into his dark eyes and his gaze was so intense it inflamed my blood. “I want to know what happened to Dan and Oscar,” I murmured.

“Me too, but tonight I want to forget about them and think about us.”

His mouth pressed against my lips, shutting down my mind and sending my body into overdrive.

Us?

Uh oh, I was in trouble.

*   *   *

Miraculously, we didn't burn the garlic bread. We came up for air just as the oven chirped. Gus rushed over and pulled out the crispy warm bread.

He plated the tagliatelle al sugo di funghi and motioned for me to have a seat. “Signorina, please sit down and enjoy.”

He was going to serve me, too? It seemed too good to be true.

I sat down and sipped my wine. My head was spinning. Was it possible something wonderful could happen between us during this awful time? And then, like a bad recurring dream, the thought came to me: What if Gus really was responsible for Dan's death … and Oscar's, too?

Gus had been alone all night at DelVecchio's. I'd seen him walk in with Oscar.…

No, Gus was too gentle to be a killer, and he was committed to getting to the bottom of these murders. But someone did it—and I knew it wasn't Rachel.

Of course, there was another sexy guy committed to finding the killers, too.…

Then, as if to play on my Catholic guilt, Brooks's face flashed before my eyes. I'd never dated two guys at the same time in my life. Not that I'd had that many boyfriends, but still. My first boyfriend had been in grade school and we'd dated until I'd graduated high school. After that, it had been a series of boyfriends, through college and living in New York, but never two at one time. Not that I was exactly dating either one of them.…

Who knew being unemployed and tripping over a body could spruce up a love life?

Gus watched me shovel the tagliatelle al sugo di funghi into my mouth. He broke off a piece of garlic bread and placed it on the side of my plate. “It was a good thing we got to the farmers market. There's nothing like fresh food. They have the market again tomorrow. I can get fresh asparagus, zucchini, tomatoes, eggplant. I can make you caponata alla Siciliana, and make it for your great-uncle, too, as soon as the hospital releases him.”

“You can make me anything anytime, Gus,” I said, savoring the next forkful.

He plated himself a dish and sat next to me at the counter, our thighs resting against each other. Heat surged through me and I suddenly felt happy. I had fears about Gus, sure. I mean, a guy this sexy, and one who could cook? He was certainly destined to be a heartbreaker. Why wasn't every woman in town after him?

I squinted at him, watching him swirl the food around on his plate while I inhaled mine. Finally he asked, “Did you find anything in the books, Maggie? How bad is it? Is DelVecchio's really in dire straits?”

“Cash flow's a problem. Looks like you're bringing in enough, but the expenses are so high. Rent, utilities, and discretionary spending. It seems like you guys are burning more money than you're bringing in.”

He frowned. “Discretionary spending? What do you mean?”

“A partner draw every month for fifteen thousand.”

Anger flashed across his face. “What?”

“You were paying yourselves, right?”

“Yes, but not fifteen thousand.”

I pushed aside my plate and grabbed the books. We covered each line item until we got to the partner draw. “I don't take a draw. I've been living off my savings for the last year since we opened the restaurant.”

I pressed my hand against his. “Gus, it looks like someone was stealing from the business.”

Gus frowned, but before he could reply, the phone buzzed. It was a message from Grunkly. “Sprung from the hospital, can you come get me?”

Gus looked over my shoulder as I read the message, his hand on my lower back. “Looks like I'll be cooking for him sooner rather than later. Let's go!”

*   *   *

“Will you tell them I don't need another nurse, Maggie?”

I stood between a male nurse in blue scrubs and Grunkly, who was relaxing in a wheelchair, ready to be loaded into Gus's BMW. The nurse had a scowl on his face, which led me to believe he wasn't going to listen to Grunkly's evasion techniques. “I'll be at your house tomorrow at noon.”

“You gotta listen to them, Ernest,” Benny said. “I can't lose another good client this week or I'll be out of business.” He patted Gus's arm. “I'm sorry about your friend. He was a regular.”

Gus bolted upright. “What do you mean?”

Gus and I exchanged looks. Suddenly we knew where the fifteen-thousand-dollar monthly draws had gone. Horse races!

 

Chapter Twenty-six

I was roused from a beautiful dream, where Gus was declaring his undying love for me over a bowl of steaming spaghetti marinara, by Beepo howling in my ear. His front paw was tapping at my eye socket while his wet nose jabbed against my mouth.

“Get off!” I said, rubbing at my eye as he barked in my ear.

He growled at me, and something else registered in my psyche: the insistent ringing of my cell phone. I reluctantly pried an eye open as the cogs in my brain started to turn.

I sighed, sitting halfway up in bed, and fumbled for the phone. “Hello?”

“I found her!” Yolanda shrieked.

Beepo let out a cacophony of doggie noise as he registered the voice of my caller. Yolanda heard him and let out her own matching symphony of noise: “Beep, Beep, Beep, Beepo, po, po, baby!”

“Found who?” I asked, trying to break through the racket.

“Rachel!” she said.

My knuckles turned white, gripping the phone. “Put her on!” I screamed.

“Oh, she's not here, here. I mean she's not with me. But I saw her in the lobby. I tried to get her attention, but then I ran into a sales rep for The Show; did you know that they're launching an all-new marketing plan that—”

“Wait! Stop! Where's Rachel now?”

“I don't know.”

I resisted the urge to throw the phone across my bedroom. “What do you mean you don't know?”

“Well, by the time I got through talking to the rep, she wasn't in the lobby anymore. And anyway, once I finished talking to the belt accessory rep, I ran into the scarf rep. Did you know that handkerchiefs are back in? They're very green, you know, as in good for the environment, not the color. All that tissue, it can clog up our landfills, definitely not good for—”

“Stop blathering or I'm going to kill you!”

“Sorry. I'm excited. It's so, so incredible here!” she trilled.

“Can you find her again? Did you ask at the hotel for her room number?”

Silence greeted me. “Oh, good idea. I didn't think about that.”

I sighed again.

“Let me go talk to the front desk.”

*   *   *

When Yolanda didn't call back right away, I dialed The Mirage on my own. I left a message at the front desk, although the clerk wasn't sure a Rachel Patterson or Hazelton had checked in.

Finally, I couldn't wait at my apartment any longer. I decided to have another look at Rachel's place. Maybe now that I had a few more pieces to the puzzle, I'd make a better detective. In fact, maybe I could snoop around for her gun or for the contract that said that Rachel was to buy out Dan's share of DelVecchio's that Yolanda was so certain existed.

Even though Gus thought Dan wasn't trying to sell, it did seem rather like he needed the money. Maybe Dan had been using the threats as a scare tactic to force the sale through—telling Rachel she had to buy him out or he would file that complaint letter with the health department.

I walked the short distance to Abigail's apartment house, figuring I could borrow the key to Rachel's from her. She lived close to me, but because Beepo stopped to sniff every crack of cement along the way, the walk took over fifteen minutes.

When I got to Abigail's, I was surprised to find Evie Xtreme there. She sat in Abigail's window looking over the street, her hair wrapped in aluminum. She wiggled her fingers by way of greeting, but immediately resumed her quiet surveillance of the street.

Abigail pressed Rachel's key into my hand. “I'm a hair stylist,” she said by way of explanation.

“Oh, I didn't know.”

Beepo found Missy under the couch and growled at her. Obviously, he wanted to play.