Owen and Adrianna jumped in with praise and thanks for the night. I asked if Madeline was around so I could say good-bye. “She’s talking to Brian right now. Probably trying to make him feel better. He tries so hard to impress everybody that whenever he screws something up, he feels awful about it.” Josh shrugged. “I’m not worried about him. He just needs to toughen up a little. He’s too sensitive.”
“Well, please thank her and Brian for us. And, uh, Perry. And I’m sure we’ll be back,” I said, kissing Josh again. “So we’ll see you in a hour or so?”
We left enough money to give our waitress a generous tip and went outside to get Owen’s car from the valet. Adrianna and I had been responsible for most of the wine consumption and tipsily made our way into the car. After we’d tipped the valet, Owen headed toward Boylston Street while Adrianna and I gushed over Josh and his cooking.
Uninterested in girl talk, Owen decided he was going to play his favorite car game, “Taking My Driving Test.” He’d invented this asinine game a few years ago and periodically subjected us to it. The so-called game consisted of driving as though you were in the midst of your driving test, in other words, driving very slowly and law abidingly, thus pissing off every driver around you as you came to full stops at stop signs and drove below the speed limit.
“Owen, cut it out!” shrieked Adrianna as a black car almost rear-ended us at a major intersection. “We don’t have time to waste filling out accident reports!”
“Okay, okay,” agreed Owen, chuckling as he resumed normal Boston driving. “I just like to prove the point that this city is full of driving-impaired citizens. I’m trying to be a role model.”
We continued raving about the food until Owen reminded us of Eric’s murder investigation. Owen and Adrianna agreed that they didn’t see anything at all sinister about Josh, and both felt confident that even though he lacked an alibi for the time of Eric’s murder, he couldn’t be the killer. It occurred to me that I should somehow lure Detective Hurley and his associates to Magellan for dinner. Once they’d tasted Josh’s food, he’d be off the hook.
THIRTEEN
I woke up the next morning and snuggled up to Josh, who was spooning me tightly. My head was throbbing from one too many beers the night before, and it took me a few groggy minutes to recall that I hadn’t committed any cardinal sins. Except attempted sexual assault? The happy thought crossed my mind that if I confessed to Naomi, I might get fired from the Boston Organization Against Sexual and Other Harassment in the Workplace. My bed wasn’t exactly a workplace, of course. Even so.
To the best of my recollection, Adrianna and I had knocked back quite a bit at the bar as our dates had been nursing a few pints of Guinness. After last call, Ade and I had decided that a slumber party was in order and had yanked the boys back to my place to crash. I’m pretty sure I attacked Josh on my bed but was too inebriated to do much more than drunkenly kiss and grope him for a few minutes before falling asleep. At some point I’d apparently put on striped pajama bottoms and an extremely seductive Sponge Bob T-shirt.
I peeked back under the covers to find that Josh was shirtless but still had on jeans. I guess I still hadn’t scared him off.
“What in God’s name is wrong with this coffeemaker?” Owen demanded from the kitchen. I smelled the familiar reek of burning and heard the ghastly burping noise that the stupid machine made when attempting to brew a pot.
I sat up in bed, rubbed my eyes, and hollered, “Just back away and let it finish. Whatever you do, don’t touch it!”
Josh suddenly grabbed me and pulled me back down onto the bed. “Don’t touch it?” he asked, rolling on top of me and kissing my neck. “I hope you’re not talking to me,” he said coyly.
“No, Owen’s trying to make coffee.” I paused while Josh continued kissing my neck and shoulders and . . . why had I brought Adrianna and Owen over here? I could have been alone with Josh right now.
“Owen, go out and get us some real coffee, okay?” Adrianna moaned from the living room. She sounded as hungover as I was. She and Owen had slept on my pull-out sofa, which had a mattress primarily composed of lumps and springs. Even if she’d gone to bed sober she’d have felt a violent need for caffeine.
“Hey,” Josh called out, “you guys want to go get breakfast? My roommate Stein works at Eagles’ Deli down in Cleveland Circle.”
“Bless that man!” Owen shouted. “I’m starving! Everybody up!”
“I love Eagles’,” I told Josh as I rummaged around my room for clothes. “I didn’t know you had a connection there. I wonder if we’ve ever run into each other before.”
“Oh, I would’ve remembered you, baby,” he teased. He looked around my room in the light of day, and I cringed. My unfinished paint job was now tragically highlighted by the sun glaring through the windows. “What’s going on with that stripe there?” Josh asked innocently.
“I’ll tell you later,” I muttered with embarrassment.
Ade and I met up in the bathroom and gossiped for about thirty seconds while we threw on clothes. I barely got to whisper to her about mauling Josh before Owen thumped the door with his hand.
“Move it! We’re not going to Spago.”
We hurried up, and I didn’t notice until later that I hadn’t even bothered to put on makeup or worry about my hair. Josh, my self-image therapist. I could practically hear the outraged reaction of my feminist classmates at social work school to that idea. Dependent on a man for—Still, I wasn’t worried about my appearance, and that had to count for something, didn’t it?
When we emerged, Josh and Owen were talking.
“So, Stein’s your roommate?” Owen asked. “Was he around the night this Eric dude got killed?”
“No, he was working the night Eric was murdered. He can’t give me an alibi. But”—he smiled at us—“he makes a mean omelette.”
“Don’t worry, man.” Owen patted Josh’s back. “I have a feeling Chloe’s not going to let you go off and rot in jail.”
“Good. A conjugal visit isn’t exactly what I had in mind.” He winked at me. “The good news is that I haven’t heard from the detective in a few days. I’m not sure how strongly he suspects me. I mean, he’s actually been pretty nice to me this past week. You know, polite and formal, but I get the feeling he’s just trying to do his job. I don’t think he’s out to get me just to pin the murder on someone. I’m the easiest suspect right now. All right, that’s enough. No more murder talk today.”
“Yes, sir.” Adrianna saluted Josh. “We’re ready to go!”
As we were heading out the back door, the phone rang. “Let me just grab that before we go, okay?” I rushed back inside and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Chloe? It’s Sheryl Rafferty, dear.” Dammit. I hadn’t heard from her since the funeral and thought I was free.
“Oh, um, hi. How are you?”
“As well as can be expected, I guess,” Sheryl’s shrill voice ripped through my hangover headache. “Phil and I would like to have you over for dinner tonight. We’d like to talk to you about some things. Can you come? Around six?”
Now, the last thing I wanted to do was have dinner with the Raffertys. The only reason I even thought about accepting the invitation was the possibility of learning something about Eric that would point to a suspect other than Josh. I agreed to dinner, but said I wouldn’t be able to stay long. School work and all that, I lied.
“Who was that?” Adrianna asked.
“Actually,” I hesitated, not wanting to freak out Josh, “it was Eric’s mother, Sheryl. She and Phil want me to come over for dinner to discuss something. I said I’d go.”
“Are you nuts?” Ade yelled. “I thought you’d gotten rid of them.”
“I haven’t gotten around to it. Yet. I haven’t even talked to them since the funeral. I’ll tell them tonight that I wasn’t Eric’s fiancée. But I was thinking that if I talk to them and find out more about Eric, maybe I can find a good suspect to pass on to Detective Hurley. Wi
th luck, maybe the real murderer.”
Josh looked at me. “Chloe, you don’t have to do that. Please. I’ll be fine. Call her back and tell her no. Just explain everything over the phone. You don’t have to suffer through dinner with them for my sake.”
“I want to. We all know you’re not the murderer, but somebody is. Maybe the Raffertys are. Both of them. Or one of them. And maybe I can get some useful information. Besides, they’re still mourning their son’s death. At least I guess they are,” I said, thinking about my Group Therapy class’s hypotheses. “All right, we said no more murder talk. So let’s get out of here.”
We walked down the back stairs and ran smack into Noah.
With the trashy blonde.
I hadn’t noticed her car outside, but I’d been too focused on half-naked Josh to see much of anything else.
“Noah,” I said cooly, grabbing Josh’s hand.
“Veronica?” Josh said. Owen, Ade, and I whipped around to stare at Josh.
Noah spoke first. “You two know each other?” he asked the skank.
“Yeah,” she bubbled. “I do the books for Magellan, right, Josh?”
What the hell is going on? Eric’s ex-girlfriend is dating my ex? Is everyone part of a conspiracy, some freakish plot centered on Eric’s murder? Is every guy I get involved with connected to this idiot Veronica? And most of all, God, I hope Josh hasn’t slept with her, too.
“Yes, you do a lot of things at the restaurant,” Josh responded. The condescension in his voice told me that he hadn’t been with her. Huge relief.
“Oh my God! Did you hear about Eric Rafferty? I couldn’t believe it.”
We ignored her.
“Let’s go.” I started down the stairs again.
“Hi, I’m Noah.” The jerk extended his hand to Josh while ignoring Owen. I stopped and eyed Adrianna, silently begging her to help move us along. But she looked pretty interested in checking out the male dynamics going on here. Consequently, I was stuck standing there waiting to see which guy would be the next one to try symbolically marking me as his turf.
Josh shook Noah’s hand but looked far from pleased about it. “So, how do you two know each other?” he gestured to Veronica.
“Oh, she’s Tyler’s bookkeeper,” Noah answered. “He’s a chiropractor who lives downstairs,” he explained to Josh. “I met her when she came by to drop some papers off for him.”
“Brilliant,” I said. “Now we all know each other. Let’s get going.”
We started the five-minute walk to Cleveland Circle. “That was weird,” mumbled Josh. “Veronica sure gets around. She and Eric had something going . . . and now this kid? And before that she and—”
I cut him off. “Wait! Josh, hold on.”
Veronica was a link between Eric and Noah. According to Adrianna, Noah had a violent attitude. So . . . Veronica could have wanted Eric dead for some ex-girlfriend reason, and she could have convinced Noah to murder him. Maybe. But what would have been in it for Noah? Veronica’s undying love and devotion? I highly doubted that. The promise of unconditional sex with no desire whatsoever for a relationship? Still not likely. But Noah was a sneaky, untrustworthy person. A person with the makings of a murderer?
Or Veronica did it herself. When Noah had asked how she and Josh knew each other, she’d mentioned Magellan and hadn’t said a word about working at Essence, too. Of course, Magellan was the place she and Josh had in common. Even so.
My question was how to run the possibility of Veronica’s guilt by Josh while conveying a minimum of uncomfortable details about my past with Noah. So far, I’d managed to omit any information about my ex downstairs. I gave a quick summary and actually ended up enjoying the spark of jealousy in Josh’s eyes. When I’d finished, Josh quickly grabbed my hand, thus claiming his position as my new (and improved) man.
“I didn’t like that kid.” Josh shook his head. “I don’t know what it was, but I just didn’t like him.”
“Turns out I didn’t like him much either,” I agreed.
“Yeah. He’s an asshole,” Ade said. “But . . . so what do you think he was doing with Veronica?” She paused for a second. “Okay, I know what he was doing with her. But Chloe’s right. It’s a creepy connection. With this whole Eric-getting-chopped-up situation.”
“Could you not say ‘chopped up’?” I pleaded.
“I don’t know,” Josh said. “I’ll have to think about that. Small world? It might just be a coincidence.” He pulled me in close to him as we walked, his arm securely over my shoulders. “Let’s just forget about it for now.” Josh kissed the top of my head as we strolled toward the Circle.
“You two are ridiculous. Aren’t they, Owen?” Adrianna said. “Any more ogling each other, and I’m going to puke.”
“Ew! Kissing? Girls?” screeched Owen. “Yick!” He gave Adrianna an impressive, slobbery kiss.
“Owen, stop! I’m hungover and all smelly!” Adrianna protested, laughing.
Josh and I walked ahead while my two friends acted like fifth-graders in the playground, chasing each other and squealing.
When we got to Eagles’ Deli, there was a long line just to get to the front entrance. Ade and Owen caught up with us, still giggling.
“Oh God. Look at that line,” Ade moaned. “It’s going to take forever to get in today.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it. Come on,” Josh said, leading the way past the college students lined up along Beacon Street and into the deli. “Hey, Fatty, what’s up?”
I looked behind the long deli counter to see a six-foot guy assembling an English muffin sandwich. “There you are. I was wonderin’ what happened to you.” He smiled at Josh.
“Chloe, this is Stein. Stein, Chloe.” I gave him a little wave. “And Adrianna and Owen.”
“What do you guys want to eat?” Stein asked us. I looked up at the menu posted above Stein and asked for pancakes, fried eggs, and a side of sausage. When everyone had ordered, we wove around the deli and grabbed a table together.
“I’ve definitely seen Stein before. In fact, I think he’s been working every time I’ve been in here,” I said to Josh. Stein was built like a linebacker. I silently wondered how he managed to maneuver around in the skinny area between the counter and the grills.
“Yeah, he’s hard to forget. And he works all the time.”
“God, I’m starving.” Owen rubbed his stomach. “I don’t know how I can be after last night, but I am. And I have to eat a big meal now because I won’t be able to eat again until I get home from work.”
“Where do you work?” asked Josh.
Owen beamed. He loved telling people. “I work on a blimp. We do all the football games and stuff like that around Massachusetts. I’m actually going out later today to fly over a parade in western Massachusetts.”
“No way!” Josh gave the typical reaction to hearing Owen’s unusual line of work. In other words, he barraged Owen with blimp questions.
Owen looked over our heads at the wall behind us. “What are all these Polaroid pictures for?”
The walls at the Eagle were plastered in Polaroids with personalized phrases written underneath.
Josh laughed. “Oh, those are people who’ve eaten one of the big burgers here. You don’t know about the Riley Burger?” he asked Owen.
Owen shook his head. Anyone with Owen’s appetite should practically have been born knowing this famous Cleveland Circle eatery.
While we waited for our food, Josh gave us some deli history. “See, the owner, Robert Chiller? A while back, he came up with the idea for the Godzilla Burger, which is a one-pound burger with a pound of fries. Anyone who finished it got their picture on the wall. There’s no time limit, and that started to seem too easy, because too many people were doing it. So then came the Megaburger, a one-and-a-half-pound burger with fries. Then the Cowabunga Burger, two pounds of meat with two pounds of fries. Next, the ATB Burger.”
“Let me guess,” Owen said. “Two and a half pounds of meat?”
“What’s ATB stand for?”
“The Almost There Burger,” Josh answered.
“Now, wait,” Adrianna said. “This isn’t one big, disgusting burger?”
“No, no,” Josh explained. “It’s eight-ounce patties stacked on top of each other on one bun. But then there came the Riley Burger. This kid named Shawn Riley came in one day and said he could eat a three-pound burger with three pounds of fries. So Robert said that if Riley could do it, he’d name a burger after him. And the kid did it. So he was the burger champion for a while. Until the Collette Burger, which is three and a half pounds.”
Even though the images of gluttony were making me queasy, it was still satisfying to listen to Josh recount the legends. Revolting though they were, they weren’t about anything he’d done, and his enthusiasm proved that although his own cuisine was just that, he was no food snob.
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