by Diana Orgain
“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 R
achel 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.
“Yeah, only the storefront space is so expensive in this town that I just work out of my house.” She frowned at my hair. “Do you need a touch-up?”
I ran a hand through my hair, evaluating it. It had been a while since I’d had a trim. I agreed quickly.
“Come over Friday before the Tails and Tiaras fund-raiser. I’ll doll you up. Rumor has it you have quite a few admirers.”
Evie turned her head away from the street and appraised me, smiling.
“Deal,” I said. “Come on, Beepo. We gotta go.” He darted behind the couch, out of sight.
Abigail glanced at her wristwatch. “Don’t worry about him. I’m going to walk Missy before heading over to The Wine and Bark tonight. I can walk both dogs. You’ll be open, right?”
“I guess it depends … was the…” I hesitated, feeling it was somehow indelicate to mention a crime scene.
“Oh, the crime scene’s all cleaned up,” Evie said, shuddering. “Thank God. So gruesome.”
* * *
Once inside Rachel’s apartment house, the pull to visit Gus was undeniable. I even lingered outside his apartment for a moment with my hand on his door, as if I could feel or touch him right through the wood. I figured calling on him after last night might be construed as too needy and decided to pass on knocking.
Pulling out the key Abigail had given me, I shoved it into the keyhole in Rachel’s door. I realized the door wasn’t locked.
Had I left her apartment unlocked? A chill swept me from head to toe and my stomach turned sour. Twisting the knob, I pushed open the door a crack.
“Hello?” I called out.
A voice in my head warned, Don’t go in, don’t go in, DON’T go in.
What should I do? Call Officer Brooks? I bristled, thinking about our last conversation. Maybe I should just get Gus from down the hall?
My hand recoiled off the door. I should get help.
But then, before turning away, I called out again, “Heeeelloooo? Is someone there?” I was frozen at her doorway. I pushed the door open an inch further.
There was no sound from inside, but the air seemed charged with a strange energy. I sniffed and suddenly wished I’d brought Beepo with me.
I pressed the door open a bit further and could now see into the living room. I was being silly. Everything was fine.
“Hello?” I called out again, this time stepping into her apartment. My internal warning system went off, my muscles tensing. The couch was upturned, her books tossed off the shelves and onto the floor, the mail open and flung across the counter. The entire living room had been ransacked.
“Damn!” I ran to her bedroom. Her mattress was overturned and her computer gone.
Someone had come looking for something.
Had they found it?
Could it have been the gun?
I pulled my cell phone from my bag and dialed 9-1-1.
The 9-1-1 operator answered. “What is the nature of your emergency?”
“Oh, hi Jen. It’s Maggie.” Part of me couldn’t believe I was already on a first-name basis with the 9-1-1 operator. “I need the police over at Rachel’s apartment immediately.”
“What’s happened? Another uh…”
“Oh God, I hope not. Her place has been broken into. Ransacked.”
“Okay, stay out of the apartment. They could still be inside.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d already poked my nose into the apartment. She was right, what if I’d interrupted the burglary? What if Dan’s killer had been here? What if the killer had come barreling out of the apartment and taken me with him or her…?
Chills spiraled down my spine.
“I’m putting out a call,” the operator said. “Officer Brooks will be there in a minute.”
I waited with mixed emotions to see my favorite officer.
* * *
Officer Brooks had a one-of-a-kind gait; he stalked down the dark, narrow hallway with his broad shoulders practically bumping into the walls, and my heart lurched, hammering like crazy inside my chest.
I cleared my throat to calm my nervousness.
He smiled warmly at me, but there was a note of urgency in his voice. “Maggie, are you all right? What’s happened?”
“Someone broke into Rachel’s apartment,” I said.
Officer Brooks leveled his gaze at me. My knees turned weak as I stared back into his clear bright blue eyes. “Is anything missing?” Brooks asked me.
“As far as I can tell, only her computer,” I said.
And her gun! It’s got to be missing, I wanted to scream, but I wasn’t exactly supposed to know any of that, so I kept my mouth shut and let him do the detecting.
I regretted that Rachel hadn’t had better security. Surely, the person who’d taken her computer would figure out her password as easily as I had. And as for the gun, she should have had a safe!
I brought Brooks up to speed with what Yolanda had said about Rachel being in Vegas.
“She spotted her at The Mirage,” I said.
He nodded slowly at me.
“You’re not surprised?” I asked.
He looked down, his eyes almost closing, and he took a moment too long to respond. “You knew?” I asked.
“Not exactly. I’d had a report…”
“I’ve been worried sick about her. You knew that. I didn’t know where she was. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. It wasn’t confirmed. I—”
I turned away from him, feeling sick and confused. Why couldn’t anyth
ing be easy? I felt betrayed by the guy I thought I could most likely trust, and the guy who probably wasn’t trustworthy was working his way into my heart.
“Do you have any more information on Oscar’s death? I talked to Melanie, Oscar’s on-again, off-again girlfriend. Apparently, she was expecting him—”
“Why did you talk to her?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you talk to Melanie?” Brooks pressed.
“Uh, I thought she might tell me something that could help us figure out—”
“Wait, wait, wait. Help us? Help us, who? You’re not investigating these murders. I am.”
My throat constricted and I blinked back the tears that threatened. He was right, of course, what was I thinking? I said, “If you don’t want to help me, then—”
“Help with what? I think you might be deliberately obstructing justice, here.” He glanced around the ransacked apartment. “Are you trying to mess up my investigation?”
“No! Of course not. I’ve told you everything I know.”
The lie was caught in my throat—I hadn’t told him about the letter or the photo of Dan used as target practice at the cabin, or my suspicions about Rachel’s missing gun.
He stepped close to me. “All right, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you. But please, next time you think that you’ve come across a burglary, don’t go inside. Just call me, okay?”
I nodded.
He reached out and grabbed my chin, pulling my face close to his. “Promise?”
“Yes.” We were so close, I could smell mint on his breath, and even though I was upset with him, I had the crazy desire to mash my lips against his.
He dropped his hand. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Someone is desperate to cover their tracks, and it seems like you’re desperate to catch them.…”
I watched his eyes, biting my tongue.
“Catching them is my job, Maggie.”
“I know,” I whispered.
“Do you trust me?”
Yes. No.
“You were trying to pin this on my sister.”
He put the small notebook away in his breast pocket. “She wouldn’t very well have ransacked her own place, right?”
Something hung in the air between us. What was he implying? That I’d ransacked her apartment in order to clear her from suspicion? Or did he think I might be setting up a fake crime, so I could steal her gun and get rid of the evidence? My throat went dry and I stepped away from him.