Picking Up the Pieces

by Maryann Jordan

  “Did you think he was making money somewhere else?”

  Snorting, Skip shook his head. “That’s just it…didn’t look like he was getting much money. So, I figured he was just winding down his career and hoped like hell he had a backup plan. If he hadn’t saved for retirement, things were going to get real tight for him.”

  “Anyone special come around to deal with George?”

  “Just the regulars. As soon as Thomas Fedor got into town and re-opened the Sunset View Restaurant, he came most days. He would talk to George, usually first, and then make his way over to the Carsons and the Taylors.”

  “Was that odd? That the restaurant owner would come? Wouldn’t it be a chef or manager?”

  Skip shrugged, and said, “Baytown’s small enough that eventually you see everyone doing all kinds of things. I just figured he liked checking out the local scenery or was a real hands-on kind of owner.”

  Shaking hands, Lance left the harbor and drove back to the office. Mildred and Mable were both in the reception area, greeting him as he walked by.

  “Chief wanted to see you when you got in, Lance,” Mildred said as Mable’s head bobbed next to her.

  Tucking away his smile at the two women, so alike in mannerisms, he walked to Mitch’s office toward the back of the police station. Knocking on the door, he entered and Mitch nodded for him to take a seat. “You wanted to see me?”

  Mitch eyed him for a moment before saying, “You were hired to be part-time, Lance. In the past week, you’ve put in full-time hours.”

  Tilting his head, he said, “I’m not asking for more money, Mitch. I’m only logging my part-time hours—”

  Mitch’s raised hand interrupted him, as he shook his head. “It’s not your reporting that has me concerned. I know you’re only turning in the agreed upon hours of contracted work, but that makes a lot of what you’re doing for the town on your time.”

  “Are you telling me that you turn this job off when you leave the station?” he countered. Seeing Mitch’s mouth snap shut, he nodded. “Thought so.” Leaning forward, he heaved a sigh before continuing, “Mitch, you invited me to move here because I had no desire to go back home after I got out and working Vice was too much at the time. Nightmares were a bitch…my family was impossible to be around. I was one of the lucky ones though, ‘cause I had some money and could disappear from society for a while. I never meant to become involved at all. Not with the town, not with friends, and sure as hell, not will someone I could fall for.”

  Mitch’s lips twitched before he dropped his eyes to his desk. “I hear you. I never expected to find Tori back here in Baytown.”

  They sat in silence for a moment before Lance asked, “What’s got you bothered? Me working here? Working over my hours? Being involved with Jade—”

  “No to the first and last. You working here is great. You’re a damn good investigator and I’m thankful you decided to join the living and help us out. And Jade? Man, I couldn’t be happier for both of you. But the hours? Yeah, we’ve got to keep an eye on that. I need to stay within budget, but I also need you to be careful with your time. We don’t want a case compromised because you’re involved with a possible witness, or that you’re investigating on your own time.”

  He nodded, but he was not happy with the idea of cutting back. Looking at his watch, he said, “I want to interview Thomas Fedor…you want to take the lead?”

  Grinning, Mitch nodded. “Oh, hell yeah, let’s go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, they sat ensconced in Thomas’ lavish office on the second floor of the Sunset View Restaurant. Lance’s gaze was drawn to the large window facing the bay, the view creating a focal point for the room. The walls were painted a dark red, stark in contrast to the highly polished, light pine floor. The furniture was masculine and he recognized no expense had been spared.

  “Chief Evans, how nice to have you visit. How is that lovely wife of yours?” Thomas greeted, his smile wide.

  “She’s fine, thank you. Officer Greene and I would like to ask you a few questions.”

  Lance, allowing Mitch to take the lead, settled into the plush, leather chair.

  “Certainly, certainly,” Thomas replied, his smile still firmly in place. “How can I be of assistance?”

  “We’re trying to understand George’s movements and how he conducted his business,” Mitch began. “It’s our understanding that you would visit the harbor almost every day, overseeing the buying of the local fish?”

  Nodding profusely, Thomas replied, “Yes, yes. I try to get out every day that I can. I find that it’s important to remain on top of things in this business and there were some things I wasn’t willing to take a chance on.”

  “Your chef isn’t involved in that aspect of the restaurant?”

  “Actually, yes, but we divide those duties. My head chef…have you met Chef Louis?” As they shook their heads, he continued, “Oh, you must the next time you’re here. He is wonderful and I think will really put the Sunset View Restaurant on the map—”

  “You were explaining the different duties?” he interrupted.

  Chuckling, Thomas nodded, his smile still wide. “Oh, yes. I get carried away when I talk about the restaurant.” Clearing his throat, he propped his elbows on his deeply padded, leather chair, his fingers in a steeple as he continued. “Chef Louis is sincere about using the freshly grown produce and he, along with some of the other cooks, scour the area for the produce. He is also particular about the oysters we serve because, as I’m sure you know, we offer a wide variety of oyster dishes. So,” he spread his hands out wide, “the fresh fish fell to me to buy.”

  “Not another cook?”

  Shrugging slightly, he lowered his brow, “I suppose I could have one of them take over that duty, but officers, I really enjoy taking care of it myself. I enjoy meeting the boats as they come in. Enjoy getting to know the fishermen. I find it to be a welcome break from some of the more tedious tasks in owning this business.”

  “You still have business dealings in New Jersey?”

  A shadow crossed Thomas’ face, fleeting, but not unnoticed.

  “Yes…there are family businesses, but some are less profitable than others, so I’m focusing my attention on this one.”

  “A casino, I believe,” Mitch pushed.

  A mottled red rose over Thomas’ face as his gaze shot between them, his Adam’s Apple bobbing several times. “Yes.” Hesitating only a second, he added, “A family business.”

  “It must be hard to run a casino in New Jersey and a restaurant in Virginia, as involved as you seem to be.”

  Thomas’ intelligent eyes held Mitch’s before sliding over to Lance’s. “Officers, let’s not sit here and beat around the bush. Since you know of my family’s casino, then you know my real name. I assume you are here to see if I had anything to do with George Caday’s death.”

  Thomas reached up with his hand to tug on the tie at this neck and squirmed slightly in his chair. Letting silence fill the room, Lance was not surprised when Thomas eventually continued to speak.

  “While my name is on the casino as primary owner, my extended family actually owns the business, in that they put up the money for it and run it. It has not been as profitable as they had hoped. I…well, I wanted to move on to something of my own. Something away from the…uh…family business. So, when a friend told me this property was up for auction, I decided to go for it.”

  “Are the restaurant and adjoining marina all yours or is it also owned by the family?” Lance prompted.

  “All mine. I assure you, officers, it is all mine.”

  “And has it been profitable?” Mitch queried.

  Swallowing deeply, Thomas replied, “All businesses take a while to start running in the black. But I have every expectation that the Sunset View Restaurant, as well as the marina, and the wedding business we are creating, will soon show the profit needed.”

  He continued to prod. “Why did you want to separate yourself from your family�
�s business interests?

  Thomas looked out the large window, any telling expression safely hidden under a mask. Finally, sucking in a heavy breath, he replied, “We have no control over the family to which we are born.”

  For a second, Lance’s mind flashed to his own family, Thomas’ words hitting a little too close to home. Forcing his thoughts back to Thomas, he remained silent.

  “I was only ten when I first realized that my family was not like other families. By that, I mean, my family appeared to not only have wealth, but power. I was sixteen when I first witnessed my family’s power when they crushed a local business that did not pay money owed. That business was owned by the father of one of my good school friends. I saw what that did to their family and instead of being filled with pride, I was filled with shame.

  “I belonged to a powerful family but felt powerless.” Sucking in a deep breath, he continued, “I was taught what they wanted me to learn. Lived the way they wanted me to live. When I was twenty-five, I was told to sign for the purchase of the casino and I did. I hated the work…hated the business. But, I amassed a small fortune in my own name and was determined to use it to get out from under their thumb someday.” With a rueful chuckle, he added, “Who would have guessed that it would come from a tiny town on the Eastern Shore?”

  Turning his gaze back to them, he said, “I heard about an ad for the auction. Took a drive down and here I am. The sellers were thrilled to have a buyer and I was thrilled to have something of my own…something my family would not touch. I assure you, officers, I will have a successful business here and do it on my own, because I have no desire to go back to that way of life.”

  On the drive back to the BPD station, Mitch looked at Lance sitting quietly in the passenger seat. “What are you thinking?”

  Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, he replied, “As much as I like Thomas’ story…it just makes it more obvious that he would do anything to keep his family out of this business. And that might include smuggling.”

  31

  Stretching, Jade rolled over, smiling at Lance as he slept. She leaned on her bent arm, propping her head on her hand, and allowed her gaze to drift over his face. The lines from his eyes were relaxed. His dark lashes were thick, slightly curled, and she thought of how many women would love to have such perfect lashes. His eyes were closed, but she had the color memorized. Hazel. Or hazel…ish. It was hard to pinpoint their exact color. When angry, they appeared darker, the brown taking over. Other times, especially near the water, they appeared brown with blue flecks. And she remembered, when he detailed his time in the Army, they had shone golden.

  Dark stubble covered his strong jaw and she longed to run her fingers over his face, feeling the contours and textures, committing them to memory as well. His shoulders were bare, his t-shirt still on the floor where it was tossed last night. She sucked in her lips as her gaze moved over his muscular arms. Arms that had held her as his body rocked hers in passion. Smiling, she memorized the corded muscles of his chest.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice rough in the early morning. “My face is up here.”

  “Busted,” she laughed, blushing.

  “Babe, you can look all you want. I know I stare at you every chance I get.” Rolling toward her, he pulled her in for a kiss, his hand cupping her cheek.

  “Mmmm,” she moaned, “are you sure you have to go to work? This would be such a great day for you to work on your art here at home with me.”

  “Don’t tempt me,” Lance said, as he climbed from the bed, carefully maneuvering her along with him. “What are you doing today? I need you safe while I’m at work.”

  “If we’re doing our own Thanksgiving meal here tomorrow, then I need to run to the grocery store and hope they still have some things on the shelves. Then I’ll just be here cooking.”

  Brow lowered, he said, “How about if I run to the store with you this morning and then drop you off back here?”

  Sitting up, she stared up at him, scrunching her nose. “Honey, do you really think that—”

  Shifting his body so that he was leaning over her, he placed his hands on her cheeks, saying, “For now…yeah. We still don’t know who tried to run you off the road.”

  “Okay,” she agreed easily. “I hate the inconvenience, but I’ll never fuss about you going to the store with me.”

  “Humph,” he snorted. “You haven’t seen me shopping yet.”

  Thirty minutes later, Jade stood with her hands on the cart and glared at Lance. “Do you have to be in such a hurry? I need to see which yams are packed in syrup and which are in water. I don’t want the extra calories.”

  “Jade, it doesn’t matter. It’s Thanksgiving…calories are not part of the equation.”

  “You can say that…the extra calories don’t stick to your hips,” she bit back, huffing as she picked up the can of yams again, reading the ingredients.

  He grabbed the can and tossed it into the cart as he moved to her side, his other hand landing on her waist, fingers gently pressing into her hip as he bent close to her ear. “Sweetheart, there’s not one inch of you I’d change. So just focus on the fact that we’re here together…buying food for our first Thanksgiving.”

  Twisting her head around, his touch branded her skin through her clothes. Eyes wide, she whispered, “Our first…”

  “No way this’ll be the last holiday we spend together. Babe, I want you in my life for all the holidays…and for all the other days that we’ll celebrate just because we’re together.”

  Facing him fully, she placed her hands on his chest as she peered into his eyes, blinking her own as tears threatened. “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I really want to take you home right now,” she confessed.

  Chuckling, he brushed her lips with his as he turned her back toward the cart. “Then let’s get the yams and get out of here.”

  The small turkey was marinating and the yams were cooked and ready for Jade’s special casserole. She remembered their cook, when she was young, did not create the usual dish with marshmallows on top but, instead, created a pecan, brown sugar crumble on the top of the yams. Shaking off the thought of the extra calories, she grinned, still remembering the feel of Lance’s hands on her hips.

  With some time on her hands, she moved to her school bag and pulled out her laptop, pushing a bowl of sea glass out of the way. Remembering she still had a bag of sea glass left in her classroom desk, she decided to bring home what the children did not use, and add it to Lance’s collection.

  Walking into his studio, she stood for a moment, letting the sun that flooded through the windows, warm her face before she moved slowly around the room, her eyes reverently taking in the beautiful work. Thoughts of all his sleepless nights bent over his work table, creating art from the many pieces of colored glass, filled her.

  Moving to his current project, the large mosaic, she reached out, her fingers barely skimming over the fragments—individually broken but, together, creating a whole. She walked to the table on the side of the room where he had the colored glass sorted. The square, plastic containers appeared to hold glass that was sorted by not only color, but also size. Wanting to surprise him, she thought of the perfect pieces in the bag, still in her classroom. Pleased at the thought of more of her findings ending up in his mosaic, she made a mental note to bring that bag home. Part of me joining with part of him. That thought sent a smile across her face and she knew, his first mosaic would never end up on Jillian’s galleria wall…it’ll always be a part of us.

  Walking into Ed and Nancy Evans’ house two days later, Jade felt Lance tense at her back and she twisted around to see his jaw was set. “You okay?” she whispered.

  With a curt nod, he dropped his eyes to her worried face, and said, “Sorry. Sometimes, I look at other families and can’t help but wonder why my parents couldn’t have gone for a simpler life. Less…and yet, more at the same time.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said, her hand lying gently
on his arm. “My parents had Thanksgiving prepared by the cook and then would invite some of my dad’s cronies over. Mom tended to delve into the sherry by that time and I usually just escaped into my room, absconding with a plate of pie.”

  With a soft chuckle, he stared into her eyes, full of concern. “Sounds a lot like my family. All the right food, but none of the right emotions for the holidays.”

  “Welcome!” a voice cried out and the pair looked up to see Mitch’s mom, Nancy, walking from the back. Offering a hug to Jade, she took the plate from Lance’s hands. “I’m so glad you two could come!”

  “Lance, Jade,” Ed greeted, walking up behind his wife. Peeking into the dish of yam casserole, he grinned. “Best tradition ever…the day after Thanksgiving, we host the Bring Your Leftovers meal and have the greatest time. Come on back.”

  As they entered the large den, they could see the backyard was covered with a mixture of picnic tables, card tables, Adirondack chairs, folding chairs, and a pop-up tent covering the food. Completely haphazard and completely comfortable.

  Lance recognized everyone and, for the first time since moving to Baytown, he realized it felt like home. With his arm draped across Jade’s shoulders, he glanced down at her smile aimed at their friends. She stood on her toes, offering her mouth—an offer he would never refuse. With a quick kiss, she headed toward the kitchen to join Jillian and Tori.

  He watched her walk away, her graceful movements, in spite of her slight limp, holding his attention. He lifted his hand, unconsciously rubbing his chest where his heart beat steadily.

  “It’s hard and easy, isn’t it?”