“That’s Ruby for you.” Tilly gave Lena a final pat of encouragement before taking her arm away. “Can I ask you another question?”
Lena nodded and continued to dab the tissue to her now red face.
Tilly sat down again. “Gretchen said you and David had another fight.” She thought back to the conversation she’d had with Gretchen earlier in the day. “That you said hurtful, vicious things to both of them.”
“I can’t deny that.” Lena dropped her hands with a heavy sigh and sat next to her. “You know what I’m like when I’m upset. I can’t remember half of what I said.”
Whatever Lena had said had hurt Gretchen. That would account for her booting Lena out the door, using the distraction to the network as a cover. But Gretchen had said so many good things to Tilly before this happened. She glowed with enthusiasm whenever she talked about Lena—now this.
“I don’t need this on top of the damned police questioning me every five minutes. They keep hammering away about what I was doing at David’s apartment, and now they’re bringing up Juliette.” Panic showed in Lena’s hazel eyes. “Maybe they think I killed Juliette. I didn’t like the woman. She was a total asshat, but that doesn’t mean I’d hurt her.”
Everything Lena said percolated through Tilly’s brain. Some of her story jived with what Gretchen had said, yet bits of it held a sharp, dark taste of deceit. Who was lying? Her thoughts must have shown on her face.
“You don’t think I’m telling the truth, do you?” Lena threw her hands in the air. “I should’ve known no one would believe me. It’s all over the studio how you and Jordan are working with the cops.”
“No. I’m tryin’ to help—to get all the pieces to fit together.” Tilly moved her hands as if she were twisting a Rubik’s Cube. Right now, that puzzle made more sense than anything else.
“Go to hell. Get the fuck out of my face.” Anger infused Lena’s cheeks until they glowed red-hot. “I don’t need your kind of help.”
Tilly decided to put a stop to her rudeness. It might stem from fear, but she didn’t have to put up with it. “Friends are hard to come by. You want me to tell you a truth? I don’t think you killed either of them. That’s my gut feeling, but it sure won’t hold up in court. Now I’ll get out of your face.” She stood and headed for the door.
“Wait.”
The plaintive sound in Lena’s voice made her turn around. Tilly only hoped she wouldn’t turn into a pillar of salt like Lot’s wife. “What?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Good to know.”
“No. Really sorry.” Lena stood and closed the space between them. She threw her arms around her, pulled Tilly into a quick hug, and just as quickly, let her go. Lena stepped back. “Okay—that was weird. I don’t usually hug women in the john.”
Tilly didn’t know how to reply. Instead she opened the restroom door. “Why don’t you talk to Gretchen again? She’s overcome with grief and trying to handle everyone’s work. Maybe she honestly thinks her reasons are valid. I know she believes in you.”
“It didn’t look like it to me.” Lena emphatically disagreed. “Nope. I’m out of here. She wants me gone. I’m okay with that. All I have to do is pick up my stuff.”
“What do you plan on doing now?” It would be a shame to lose a talented chef like Lena. Maybe the bad publicity was hurting the network, but last time Hirschberg had eaten it up with a spoon. The whole situation made no sense.
“I’m off to L.A. for a couple of weeks to visit some friends. Maybe decide where to look for a new job.” They strolled down the hall, talking about different restaurants she wanted to try and different locations to scout for employment. Las Vegas topped the list.
Two uniformed officers and Detective Crespo stood outside Lena’s office door.
“Detective Crespo. We meet again.” Tilly acknowledged him with a slight nod. She didn’t like his blank expression or his grayness. He reminded her of a squared-off boulder. Unmovable and unreachable.
“Afternoon, ladies.” He faced Lena. “Lena McCoy. You are under arrest for the murder of David Hirschberg.” He read Lena her rights with as much feeling as a stone.
One of the officers came over to Lena. “Please, ma’am, could you face the wall and spread your arms and legs?” He pointed to the wall a few feet from the elevators.
“No. I don’t want to.” Lena’s eyes went wild. “I didn’t do it.” She sidestepped the officer.
“Judge will decide at pretrial.” Detective Crespo motioned for the officers to do their duty.
The officer approached Lena again. “Ma’am, I’ll ask you again. Face the wall.”
“Go to hell. All of you. I didn’t kill anyone.” She stepped back when the officer came forward.
Tilly watched in horror as Lena dodged the officer and was tackled by the other as she tried to shoot past them and down the stairs. Her screams and curses filled the hallway as she was restrained and pulled back to her feet.
Lena began to protest and the uniformed officers quickly had her cuffed. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t kill David.” She went limp in the officer’s grip. “Damn it to hell! Don’t you guys listen to anything?”
“Lena. Go with them. Do you have a lawyer?”
“She can take care of all that once she’s booked.” The detective brushed past Tilly and followed the profanity-shouting Lena to the elevator. He glanced over his shoulder in her direction. “Tried out your turkey pot pie recipe. Good. Real good.” With that, he joined everyone as the elevator car opened. Lena’s frantic face faded from view as the officers crowded in and the doors closed.
Tilly stood in stunned silence. Like Hank said, it looked bad for Lena. Deep down, she wondered if Detective Crespo might try to pin both murders on Lena. She didn’t wait for another elevator but ran down the flight of stairs to the prep kitchen.
She burst through the door, and everyone glanced in her direction. Jordan and Sarah were hard at work over a stove on the opposite wall. Jordan frowned at the commotion. Tilly’s mouth wobbled at all the emotions slamming into her at once. She half expected him to take off in the other direction. To her surprise, he raised his eyes heavenward.
“Hell’s bells.” He handed a spatula to Sarah. “Here, take this.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jordan trotted over to Tilly. The bad-mojo vibe radiated off her in spades, and he suspected he wouldn’t like what she had to say.
“What’s going on?” He took her by the shoulders and gazed into her shimmering eyes. For once the incipient tears didn’t bother him. What twisted his insides were the anger and worry that battled over her pale, freckled face. Someone had put them there and whoever it was would answer to him for upsetting the woman he loved.
“Detective Crespo arrested Lena for David’s murder.” Tilly blinked and sucked in a deep breath. “They handcuffed her with those nylon thingies and hauled her away kickin’ and screamin’.” Her lower lip wobbled. “Oh, God, it was awful.”
A gasp from Jordan’s sous chef grew into a wave of disbelief from everyone else as the news spread throughout the room. Whispered words filled the studio until it buzzed with shock and speculation.
Tilly looked too ashen for his liking.
He grabbed her and held on tight, surprised she didn’t make a fuss about the public display. She trembled in his arms. That bothered him worse than the tears. “Come over here. Sit.” She let him lead her to the bar stool in front of the table used in the prep kitchen. “Sarah, go to the fridge and get some water for your mother.”
The kid didn’t have to be told twice. She was off and running to the gigantic walk-in unit and came back with a bottle of Tilly’s favorite sparkling water. “Here, Mama, you drink this.” She twisted the top off and held it out to Tilly. “A few sips will help. You didn’t get much sleep last night and are wound pretty tight.”
Jordan groaned inwardly at Sarah’s bad choice of words. He half expected Tilly to snap a motherly command at her daughter.
Tilly wav
ed the water away, but Sarah held it in front of Tilly’s face, shaking it back and forth. “Jordan made me go get this, so you better drink some. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Okay. Okay.” Tilly took the water with a sigh of defeat. “I know when I’ve been licked.”
The expression on Sarah’s face said she didn’t believe her mother any more than he did. The kid pulled a small packet of tissues from her jeans pocket and handed one to Tilly.
“Sarah Jane Danes, that smirk comes awful close to an eye roll.” She dabbed at the tears. “We’d have words if I weren’t so mad at Detective Crespo.”
Jordan clamped his mouth shut so hard he was sure he’d ground his molars to dust. It wasn’t easy to suck in his anger at Crespo and the entire police department for getting Tilly so upset.
“One more sip, Mama.” Sarah motioned her mother to take another drink.
Tilly glanced down at the bottle, giving them a wan smile. “I think I need a slug of Roscoe Hammer’s hooch.”
He frowned. “Roscoe Hammer?”
“Local distiller,” Sarah explained. “Half of the Ladies of the Purple Hat Brigade keep him in business.” She settled on the bar stool next to her mother. “He won’t sell to kids , though—says it will stunt our growth and rot our brains.”
“What do you know—a bootlegger—”
“Local distiller,” both mother and daughter piped up at the same time.
Jordan chuckled. “Excuse me, a local distiller with a conscience.” Lightness replaced the overwhelming anger. He stared at mother and daughter, and for the first time, he noticed how alike they were. Their profiles were identical, except Tilly’s face was a bit fuller. It was then he realized that Sarah was actually a part of Tilly—a living, breathing person created within her body. The implication of what that meant hit home. He glanced down at her daughter’s pale face with the same freckles marching across her nose.
He pointed to the bottle in Tilly’s hand. “You ought to get something to drink, too.”
Sarah shook her head. “I’m fine, but Mama looks wiped out.”
“I knew they were looking in her direction, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. She’s not a killer.” Tilly took a long swallow and rolled the bottle between her hands. “I’ve got a feelin’ it’s goin’ to be a long day.”
Jordan frowned. She had a bad habit of running out the door without so much as a piece of toast. “Last night was hard on all of us, and now this. I’ll bet you didn’t eat any breakfast.”
She gave him a guilty, sidelong glance. “I made blueberry muffins.”
“That doesn’t mean you ate one.” He took the chair on the other side of her. “Fess up.”
A flush of red colored her white cheeks. “Guilty.”
“At least we have lunch.” He slid his arm across her shoulder. “Sarah made those burgers she was telling me about. I’ve been promised a dish that will make my taste buds stand up and sing ‘Dixie.’”
Sarah glanced up at him. “I—ah—put them on the platter. They looked done.” Her face twisted into a grimace of uncertainty. “At least I think they looked done.”
“Good job.” He nodded his approval with a small smile. “You have a chef in the making.”
“I know my way around a spatula.” The flip of her red curls over her shoulder was Sarah’s way of being cool, but he’d caught the cheeky smile. There was no doubt about it, she got her sass from her mother.
“I want to talk to Hank.” Tilly stood. It was clear she’d left distraught in the dust. Determination shone in her eyes. “I don’t have to be back here for an hour. Call him and tell him we’re comin’ to see him. I need to pick up my purse.” She stood and made her way down the hall with him and Sarah following in her wake. It only took a minute for her to go into her office to pick up her purse. She hitched it over her shoulder and grabbed Sarah by the arm. “We’re consultants, aren’t we? Let’s go check out the evidence.”
“But, Mama, we cooked lunch.” Sarah stared at the burgers and then back at him.
“Yes, but this is important, sweet pea.”
He hated her daughter’s downcast expression. This was one time he wanted to wring Tilly’s neck. The kid had put so much work and thought into her burgers, and her mother was ready to take off on a tear. Nope, it’s not going to happen.
“Let’s get these wrapped up and we can have them for supper.” Tilly started for the cabinet with the foil and to-go containers, but he stepped in front of her.
“This is more important. She worked really hard on these burgers, and we’re going to enjoy them.” He took her arm and led her to a small table the prep kitchen used for taste testing. “Now sit down.” There was no way he’d let the burgers or his newly formed rapport with Sarah get thrown in the trash because of Tilly’s rush to become Miss Marple.
“I thought we could go over lunchtime.” Tilly glanced over at Sarah. He could see impatience warring with the hopeful look in her daughter’s eyes. “It’s the only time we have to meet Hank.”
He prayed to the powers that be to let him keep a cool head. The kid would run for cover, and his temper would only infuriate Tilly.
“Tell you what—I’ll clear everything with Gretchen. We can get over to CSU before they close the doors. We’ll eat, and once I’ve got the go-ahead from Gretchen, I’ll get hold of Hank.”
“Are you sure she’ll give us the time off?”
“I’ll make it worth her while.”
Tilly breathed out a sigh of resignation. “I know when I’m licked. Burgers it is.”
He motioned to Sarah. “Bring them over. We’re going to see if they are as good as they look.”
The rest of the lunch hour passed with a happy Sarah, and Tilly had toned down her antsiness long enough to enjoy the burgers. He looked at the two ladies and wondered if there was a chance they could actually make it as a family.
Tilly glanced up at the clock. “You need to make sure Gretchen won’t come unglued if I miss an hour or two of taping. Tell her I’ll make it up tonight, or whenever she can set it up. That should make her happy.”
Jordan knew it would take more than that to appease Gretchen, especially given her state of mind lately. She wanted everything to run smoothly in order to impress her father.
She turned to her daughter. “Come on..”
“I’ll stay in your office. I promise.” Sarah balked and refused to budge.
Tilly turned to Sarah with a don’t argue with me expression on her face. “You’re coming with us. Be quiet and respectful, or start learning French.” She took Sarah by the arm and tugged.
Sarah stood firm. “I’m already taking first-year French.” Her daughter’s nose went up with an air of superiority. “S’il vous plaît.”
Just when he thought the kid had her act together, she did something stupid like running headlong into a wall called Tilly.
“Good. Keep it up.” It was clear from Tilly’s expression that she meant more than studying French. “Maybe I’ll find you a tutor for Italian and German as well.”
“Mama!”
“Mind your mother, kiddo.” He winked at Sarah. “You know what she’s like when she gets an idea in her head.”
That earned him a glare and a half smile from Tilly. “You’re not helpin’.”
“What? Are you going to pack me off to Italy now?”
“Lena is innocent, and we’re goin’ to prove it.” She was as stubborn as Sarah.
The faster he could convince her to let the police handle things the better he’d feel. He’d done a crappy job of protecting her during the Maxwell Etheridge investigation. He planned to steer her clear of as much involvement in these cases as possible. “You know, Tilly, at first I thought Lena was innocent. I’ve been going over everything in my head. Now, I’m not so sure—and neither of us has found anything to say otherwise. We’re wasting our time.”
They stopped in front of Tilly’s office.
“You’re kiddin’ me, righ
t?” She planted her hands on her hips and stood with her feet apart. Eyes narrowed. Lips flattened.
“Uh-oh. Mama’s getting ready to open a can of whoop-ass,” Sarah sniggered.
“Sarah,” he and Tilly admonished in unison.
The kid took a step back with her hands held up in surrender. “Hey, just saying.”
“You can’t let it go—can you?” Frustration ate at him. He had to attempt to change her mind. Memories of her lying in a Kansas City hospital room and beaten to hell surfaced again. The need to protect her from herself welled up. “I’m telling Hank we’re done. No more playing Sherlock Holmes.”
“Gretchen is depending on us.” Tilly glared at him, intent on going through with her plan to save Lena stamped on her face. “Besides, the Culinary Channel and the police asked us to help.” She unlocked her office door and went inside.
He and Sarah followed. “Do you think I give two shits about what they want?” His voice grew louder and her expression more determined. “You matter—not Lena, not Gretchen or the police. They can all take a flying leap at a rolling doughnut.”
Sarah sniggered. “I think Ruby’s rubbing off on him.”
The glare Tilly shot her daughter would’ve fried a lesser person on the spot. Sarah stepped behind him for protection and peeked around. “I got it loud and clear, Mama. Backing off.”
Tilly gave him the same laser stare. “You’re not the boss of me.” He scrubbed his jaw in irritation. “That is so juvenile.”
“But true.”
“Weren’t you goin’ to call Gretchen?” She pulled her phone from her purse. “If you won’t—I will.”
“Okay. Okay. You win.”
He knew the bitter taste of defeat. If he couldn’t dissuade her from poking her nose into murder, at least he could be by her side to protect her. “I’ll call her once we get downstairs.”
The storm in her blue eyes changed to sunshine brightness in a flash. She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I love you.”
The three little words tangled his heart in a masterful web. They were the reason he intended to stick to her like glue. No one and nothing would ever hurt her again. She might have gotten around him this time, but he knew how to up his game. She’d never know if he pulled a few strings to get what he wanted—a ring around her finger and to be his for life.
Murder Love on the Menu Page 15