Besides Brian, that is.
I saw a muscle tick in Mike's jaw. "Not that I'm aware of."
"No angry ex-girlfriends looking to even a score?" Brian prompted.
Mike's tanned face reddened in anger. "Where are you going with this, Jenkins?"
I glanced sideways at Josie who raised her eyebrows at me in return. I cleared my throat before speaking. "Um, I didn't want to say anything, but the mother of one of Mike's former girlfriends was at the shower today. A Mrs. Channing."
"Who?" Mike asked, baffled.
"You dated her daughter, Marla," I reminded him. "She has an apartment across the street from the new bakery."
"Too close for comfort," Gianna mumbled.
Mike looked at me as though I was speaking a foreign language. "What does she look like?"
Typical male. When I first came back to town a year ago, Josie had mentioned that Mike had dated a lot of women in the years we were apart so I probably should have been grateful that he didn't remember her. "Blonde. Petite, slim, very pretty."
He continued to stare at me with a puzzled expression. "When did I go out with her?"
Josie leaned forward in her chair. "A few months before Sal came home."
"She works as a stripper," I volunteered.
"Mama mia," Grandma Rosa shook her head.
Mike suddenly looked embarrassed. "Oh, her. We went out once, maybe twice. She was kind of clingy. It wasn't anything serious."
Maybe not for you, but…
Brian interrupted my thoughts. "I'll have a talk with her. You say that she lives across the street from the bakery?"
Uh oh. "Please don't talk to her," I implored him. "She's been in the bakery, and this would make things very awkward. She hasn't actually done anything to me."
Well, that wasn't the total truth. She'd patronized the bakery at its old location, and gave every indication she'd be a frequent customer at the new location as well, given the close distance to her home. When she had discovered—probably from her mother—that Mike and I were getting married, the nice, polite attitude had stopped towards me. She had been in the bakery on Friday, the day we had reopened. I'd heard her announce to Josie, loud enough so that I could overhear in the back room, that she'd bedded every guy she'd dated. What an accomplishment to be proud of. I'd come out of the back room in a hurry before Josie tried to shove one of the fudgy delight cookies down her throat.
"Her mother was a bit loud and annoying at the shower, but there's no proof they're involved," I said.
"Well, if it's not them," Brian said, "who else knew you were having a shower today at Mama Lena's restaurant?"
Gianna's nostrils flared. "Everyone knew, thanks to our mother. She put Sal and Mike's wedding announcement in the paper yesterday. The article was almost an entire page long. God knows how much money she shelled out for it. There were details about the church, the rehearsal dinner, the cake testing—"
Mike rubbed a hand across his eyes wearily. "There you have it. This psycho knows every move that Sal's going to make this week."
That wasn't a comforting thought. If I was the intended target, it certainly would explain how the shooting at DeAngelo's came to occur, especially since the killer would have known what time we were scheduled to be there. Also, Alexandra's facial features were similar to mine from a distance. The shooter could very likely have thought she was me. I tried hard to swallow the panic rising in my throat.
"Well, will you look at this," my father said suddenly.
We all turned to stare at him.
"What is it now, Dad?" Gianna asked in an irritated tone.
My father rubbed his hands together in delight. "Jimmy Talarico tweeted about my new blog."
"You tweet?" Gianna asked, surprised.
"Sure, I'm on Twitter," my father bragged. "I have five followers too."
"What is this thing for twits like your father?" Grandma Rosa wanted to know. "Can anyone join, like the Facebook helper?"
My father looked at me. "Speaking of Facebook, I posted on your Sally's Samples page this morning and told everyone about my new blog."
Josie swore under her breath while I groaned out loud. "Dad, I really wish you wouldn't have done that."
"Sorry, Domenic," Josie said. "I designed that page. It's all about our cookies and nothing else. Death doesn't really go well with dessert."
"Sure it does," my father insisted. "Too much of a good thing can kill you. Hey, Sal, that's a great line for a fortune cookie."
Jeez Louise.
Josie took her phone out of her purse and brought up Facebook. "We're up to over 2,000 likes on that page, and we're not going to lose them because of your morbid blog." She pushed a few buttons. "There. I just killed it. No pun intended, Domenic."
"Aw, come on," my father protested. "I need the social media exposure."
"Can we get back to the problem at hand?" Mike asked. "Jenkins, I really think this is about Sal and not me."
Brian made another note. "If we're considering past murder investigations Sally's been involved with, we know Colin's killer is dead, so that only leaves a couple of other people for me to run through the system, which I'll do tonight." He stared up at me. "Did your mother post about the shower as well? It seems that the waiter or Mrs. Channing could have easily planted the jewelry box in the restaurant."
Gianna clenched her fists at her side. "Mom put that tidbit in a different paper, one she knew Sal wasn't likely to see since the shower was supposed to be a surprise."
"I'm sorry." A small voice spoke softly from behind me.
We turned around to see my mother standing on the staircase, clutching the railing between her slim fingers.
My father looked up and blew her a kiss. "Hi, hot stuff." He then returned to typing with one finger, humming to himself.
Gianna glared at our mother. "You should be sorry. You put a target on your own daughter's back. Why couldn't you leave well enough alone? Did you tell people about her final fitting tomorrow too? Why does everything have to be about you?"
"Stop it," I whispered. "This isn't her fault."
Gianna rose to her feet and walked over to our mother. "But it is her fault. Your life is in danger now because our mother is so selfish."
"That is enough." Grandma Rosa spoke in a sharp voice that stopped all of us cold. "You will not speak to your mama like that. Yes, she was foolish. But she was acting out of kindness."
My mother stared at Gianna and attempted to blink back tears. It was the first time I had ever seen her when she wasn't looking like a million bucks. Her face was devoid of makeup, her dark hair frizzy and uncombed, and she had wrapped herself in a pink satin robe, with no body parts showing for once.
Mom stared at me and hiccupped back a sob. "I'm sorry, honey." She dashed back up the stairs, and we heard her bedroom door slam shut.
I put my head in my hands. It wasn't my intention to make my mother feel bad about this. I knew that she loved me and was truly excited about my upcoming nuptials. Yes, she'd been difficult at times to deal with during the wedding preparations for Colin as well, but it was much worse now. As I'd explained to Mike earlier, I think my mother had known that marriage wouldn't last. I hadn't admitted to anyone that I'd had doubts as well, so her support back then had meant the world to me.
Brian stared down at his phone and then rose to his feet. "Ally's texting me. I need to go."
"My, she's got you on a short leash already," Josie quipped.
I shot Josie a dirty look, and she stared down at the carpet. Mike and I both stood and walked Brian to the front door.
"Jenkins, you haven't answered my question," Mike said. "I want to know what the police are going to do to keep my fiancée safe."
Brian ran a hand through his dirty-blond hair. "We can send a car by your house a couple of times a day. Other than that, there's not much else we can do."
Mike stared at him in disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"
Brian shook his head. "I'm afraid not.
This is a small town. We don't have provisions for this type of thing in our budget, and we can't provide 24-hour-a-day protection. I don't know of a precinct around here that can."
Mike reached for my hand. "Maybe we should leave tonight. We'll fly to Vegas to get married and then go on to Hawaii from there. I'll call the airline when we get home."
My head was spinning from all of this. What would we do with Spike? What about the bakery and the jobs Mike had contracted for? We had responsibilities to fulfill and couldn't just leave at the drop of a hat.
"I don't want to run away," I protested. "We don't even know for sure that the note was meant for me. Like Brian said, it could have been intended for you."
"I don't care about that," Mike said. "My only concern is keeping you safe."
A sob stuck in my throat. If something were to happen to Mike, I wasn't sure I'd survive. I loved him more than anything on this earth. Right now I was terrified enough for the both of us.
"I have a gun," Mike announced to Brian, "and I'm going to look into hiring a bodyguard for Sal."
Startled, I placed a hand on his arm. "I think this is going too far."
Mike gripped me by the shoulders. "It already has gone too far." He addressed Brian. "Have you found out anything about the shooting yet?"
"We've been concentrating our efforts on trying to locate where the rifle shot came from," Brian explained. "My partner and I went door to door at the apartment building last night, asking if tenants heard anything, saw something funny, had managed to take a video of the area, etc. We also spoke with the landlord. He indicated that there were a couple of units with suspicious tenants where the shots could have come from. We're running checks on them and may end up getting search warrants for their apartments if anything funny shows up."
"Gee, that makes me feel better," Mike said in a sarcastic tone.
Brian looked at me. "We may bring you in to identify a few people in a lineup. One of them could be the waiter from the shower. You never told me what he looked like."
"He was good-looking," I said. "Maybe about my age or a little older. Brown, curly hair and clean-shaven. His eyes were strange though."
"Strange? How do you mean?" Brian asked.
"I don't know how to describe them," I said honestly. "It was as if there was something wrong with him. When he stared at me, it felt creepy, like he was looking right through me. His eyes were emotionless, cold. He also had a tattoo on his wrist. It was a red rose with the letter M next to it."
"There were roses on the wrapping paper of the present too," Josie put in.
"Do you still have the wrapping paper?" Brian asked.
Gianna looked mournful. "I threw it away at the shower."
Brian reached for the doorknob. "For the record, we've talked with Alexandra Walston's parents. It seems that she had her share of enemies, with one possibly being her fiancé."
"Are you kidding?" I asked.
"Alexandra's mother mentioned that the couple had a huge fight earlier this week," Brian said. "He accused her of cheating on him."
The news didn't come as a surprise. I knew for a fact that Alexandra would have been more than happy to sweeten Mike's cake at Pepe's bakery the other day.
"I don't know why a note would have been left for you or Mike if her fiancé was the killer, though." Brian narrowed his eyes. "The guy doesn't have a prior record, but still, who knows? Maybe it would be a good idea to have Mike drive you to and from work. Neither one of you should be alone, to be on the safe side."
Mike snorted. "Nah, we don't have anything to worry about. We have police protection, right?"
Brian shot him a clear look of irritation and then quietly closed the door behind him.
"Hey!" my father called out. "I've got comments coming in on my blog! I knew it was a winner!"
I stood there, feeling like someone had just knocked the wind out of me. "So maybe this is a practical joke, right? Someone knows that we were at the bakery the other day when the shooting occurred and is messing with us. There's nothing to worry about, right?"
Mike drew me into his arms and spoke over the top of my head. "Nothing is going to happen to you, Sal. I won't let it."
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Sal," Josie yelled from the back room. "What time is your dress fitting?"
I was placing jelly cookies and genettis into one of our little pink boxes for Mrs. Josten, an elderly woman who lived down the street. "Two o'clock. Do you think you can manage without me for a while? I could ask my grandmother to stop by."
Josie came into the front room with a tray of fortune cookies for the display case. I was always happy for the additional business they provided but secretly wished they weren't so popular. Some days they did unnerve me a bit.
"No. Your grandmother's probably busy nursing your mother's hurt feelings today." Josie grabbed a piece of wax paper and placed the cookies inside the case. "I'll be fine. The new driver can help me out if necessary."
I raised my eyebrows. "You went ahead and hired Mickey Steiger without asking me?"
She set the empty tray on top of the case. "Look. We can give him a try this week, and if he doesn't work out, we'll let him go. He'll be here at one thirty." She squinted at the clock on the wall. "Ten minutes, I mean. I need him to deliver that order to the Belvedere Banquet House. They're having a retirement party for one of their employees tonight, remember? The restaurant is paying good money for that tray of cookies."
I was too tired to fight it. "Yeah, okay. I really don't know anything about him though, and that bothers me. We haven't exactly had good luck with hiring employees in the past."
That was an understatement. We'd hired helpers in the past, and neither occasion had worked out well. The two women who I'd employed at different times had not been ideal for us, with one actually stealing a recipe that we had planned to use in a baking competition. We'd also had a part-time driver who'd been murdered.
Josie broke into my thoughts. "Rob said he's a good kid." Josie's husband played in a softball league with Mickey and his older brother, James. They were supposed to play every Sunday since Josie didn't work, but because Josie had been at the shower with me yesterday, Rob had skipped the weekly game when they couldn't find a babysitter.
"Of course," Josie said wickedly, "I couldn't help noticing the other day when Mickey was here filling out his application that he kept gazing at you in all your loveliness."
I did a major eye roll in response. "I think you're imagining things. How old is this kid again?"
"Eighteen," she replied smoothly. "Legal age. He wouldn't be the first one to fantasize about an older woman, right?"
The entire thought was unsettling and ridiculous. "Okay, you need to stop this. It's—disturbing. We'll try him out for one week. When he gets back from the delivery, maybe you could show him how to work the register and some other simple things around here. Make sure he fills out his I-9 and W-4. At least I'll feel better knowing that you won't be alone here this afternoon."
The bells sounded on the front door, and one of the last people I wanted to see—Marla Channing—sauntered in. She was dressed skimpily as usual, with a white halter top made of a thin, silk-like material that showed the curve of her massive chest and made it blatantly obvious that she was not wearing a bra underneath. The white jean shorts she had paired with the top were tight fitting and barely covered her rear. Her canvas, high wedge platform heels showed off toes that were painted a hot pink. I couldn't help thinking the outfit would have looked great on my mother. Unfortunately, Marla was no slouch in it either.
I watched as she wiggled her body over to the counter and gave me a small prissy smile. I could understand why Mike—or any man for that matter—would have dated her. Despite the sleazy way she dressed, I had to admit she was beautiful with her long, tousled blonde hair, large amber-colored eyes, and a heart-shaped face with delicate features.
Her eyes scanned the T-shirt and jeans I had donned. The white bib apron that I wore over th
em was covered in chocolate stains from the cookies I'd just frosted.
"Hi, Sally," she giggled. "I think I'll take a black and white cookie today. Same colors as you're wearing. Tee-hee."
I clenched my teeth together and reached down into the display case. I placed the cookie into one of the little white bags and handed it to her. "That's a dollar fifty."
Marla handed me two singles, and I rang up her order.
"How's Mike?" she asked, in a voice that was both breathless and seductive.
I froze, my back to her, and exchanged an eyebrow-raising glance with Josie who was standing nearby cleaning off the espresso machine. "He's fine, thanks."
"Oh, you forgot my fortune cookie," Marla said.
Josie narrowed her eyes at the woman and spoke in a tone so low that Marla couldn't hear. "I'll get her a cookie she won't forget."
Marla let out another high-pitched giggle. "It's funny. I never thought about Mike being the marrying type. Do you know what I mean?"
Stay calm, Sal. She's trying to get a rise out of you. "No, I don't know what you mean," I said quietly.
Marla took the fortune cookie from Josie's outstretched hand. "He always struck me as the love 'em and leave 'em type. At least that's the way he was with me."
She fluttered eyelashes that I was positive were fake and gave me a coy smile.
Suddenly I was thankful that I'd already given Marla her order because that cookie might have wound up smashed in her face. "You're entitled to your own opinion."
She gave me a wide-eyed, deer in the headlights look. "You don't seem his type."
I bristled inwardly and reminded myself that I had what she wanted, and there was no reason to get into a hair pulling fight with this woman. "I guess you'll have to ask Mike what his type is then."
Josie folded her arms across her chest. "You dated him—what? Once? Twice at most?"
"True," Marla admitted. "But it's what we actually did on those dates that counted."
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