Toasting Up Trouble

by Linda Wiken

  “I’ve asked Olivia’s assistant to tell me. She told me all of Olivia’s work e-mails go to her first, and she prioritizes and forwards them. I decided to let her in on what’s happening. It’s the only way we can control where the project is heading, don’t you agree?”

  “I suppose. Can you trust her? What if Ashley has already made a similar deal?”

  “I can’t be paranoid about everything that happens. I have to take this on trust or I’ll drive myself crazy.”

  “Er.”

  “What?”

  “Crazier. Just saying.” Skye ducked as the stuffed beaver was launched at her head. “What will we do about Brittany? Fire her? If she’s guilty, I think we need to. How can we ever trust her again? I’m sure curious as to why she’s doing it—if she is.”

  “And what, find someone to replace her? This isn’t the type of job, with so few hours, that kids want for the summer, which is just around the corner.”

  “Do we really need someone in the office? After all, we were taking care of our binders before we had Brittany. Maybe all we need is a person to take care of the website updates. What do you think?”

  “Well, if one of us learned how, we wouldn’t even need another person.” J.J. was quick to add, “Not that I’m volunteering.”

  “Nor I. So hiring one web mistress it is.”

  “Or webmaster.”

  “Exactly.”

  By noon, J.J. felt she needed to get out of the office for a break. Skye was eating at her desk, so she knocked on Evan’s office door, and he gladly joined her for lunch at Cups ’n’ Roses. Beth waved at them as they entered, but it was several minutes before she could make it over to their table.

  “Looks like business is really booming, Beth,” Evan said, craning his neck to see around the person at the next table. He spotted the daily-specials chalkboard and was ready to order when Beth pulled out her pad.

  They both ordered the sweet potato soup with a half panini of ham slices with brie and watched as Beth swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand before heading to the kitchen.

  “I wonder if she’s taken on too much, moving to a larger lunch menu.”

  “Well, it’s not like it’s an active kitchen with a chef or anything,” Evan pointed out. “All the wraps and pasta salads are made earlier in the day, and the panini just gets pressed in the grill.”

  “Such a sympathetic view.”

  “No, really. I think Beth knows her limits, and this is where it ends. Coffee, baked goods, and ready-made light lunches. I admire her.”

  “Okay, you’re right. Now, catch me up on what’s been happening in your life,” J.J. demanded.

  “Hah. Not much.” Evan picked up the pepper grinder from the center of the table and started playing with it. J.J. had to stop herself from grabbing it out of his hands and setting it back in place.

  “I’ve been thinking about the murder,” Evan continued. “I can’t be the only one who got into a public display of tempers with the guy. Have you heard anything else?”

  J.J. filled him in on what she’d learned about Don Kelland and Evan seemed to brighten.

  “Kelland. I know a thing or two about him.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Darn right. I redecorated his house just last year, and when you’re wandering around taking measurements, you get to hear the darnedest things.”

  J.J. wasn’t sure she was up to hearing any gossip. She tried to focus his thoughts. “Anything that could tie in to the murder?”

  “No admission of a simmering motive but Kelland does have a nephew. Do you know what he does?”

  “I know he has a nephew but I don’t know his name. Should I?”

  “Well, as a member of Culinary Capers, you really should be up to date on all things food in this village. So pay attention. His name is Warren Young and he owns the Tender Grill on Lakeshore Drive, the one with the great view of the lake—and on the same street as Bella Luna.”

  “And?”

  “I’m getting there. Let me tell the story. I’m measuring the window in the great room and Kelland and nephew are talking in the hall, within listening distance. You know, that’s the great thing about being a decorator: once you start working, you sort of fade into the surroundings and people don’t really notice you.”

  “Evan. This is a lot of buildup. It’d better be worth it. And, I can’t imagine you fading into anything.” She grinned.

  Evan wiggled his eyebrows. “Thank you, sweetie. Now, back to my story.”

  “Please.”

  “Kelland tells nephew not to worry, he’ll get his outdoor seating but Marcotti won’t get his. In other words, hog-tie the competition. Nephew gets all the hungry folks who want to eat outdoors and enjoy the weather.” Evan finished with a flick of his left wrist and sat back, a ta-da look on his face.

  J.J. gasped. “That’s underhanded. And possibly illegal, don’t you think? If Kelland did everything in his power to get the city council to turn down Marcotti’s proposal but give it to his nephew without stating they’re related, then he’s—he’s scum.”

  “You’re probably right. There must be council rules about full disclosure. Do you think Marcotti knew there was something underhanded going on?”

  “And confronted him, as Marcotti was apt to do? And Kelland, worried that he might be thrown off the council or even charged with fraud or whatever, decided to eliminate Marcotti before he talked.”

  “Yes.” Evan realized his enthusiasm was turning heads their way. He lowered his voice and continued, “Or even nephew could have done it. A conspiracy. I like the sound of that.”

  J.J. sat thinking it over. It made sense, or so she thought.

  “You know that Marcotti was planning on running against Kelland in the next election,” J.J. stated.

  “No, I didn’t. But this gets even better.”

  When Beth returned with their orders, J.J. asked her to sit with them for a few minutes.

  Beth looked around and nodded. “I think everyone’s happy for now. What’s up? You two are really getting into something.”

  “Can I run something by you?”

  Beth nodded, and J.J. recapped what they’d just discussed.

  “Why, that creep. I never did like Don Kelland. He never seemed to think big, like about what would be good for the entire village. And then when he voted against letting the high school band hold outdoor rehearsals in the band shelter at Grosvenor Park, I voted against him from then on.”

  “Do you think that the threat of exposure would be enough to turn him into a killer?”

  “Definitely. He has shifty eyes.”

  CHAPTER 31

  J.J. finished adding some details to her new proposal for the VPTA. She hadn’t worked with a professional association before nor had she done a conference completely on her own, but she was looking forward to the challenge. She’d been culling the Internet and her stash of brochures searching for the ideal venue in Burlington, a hotel with enough meeting rooms to accommodate a small conference of two hundred as well as a large enough hallway outside those rooms for a series of displays and coffee break central.

  She’d also wanted to find a place with room enough for the banquet to be held and catered on site. And she’d need a good room rate for the delegates. What else? Walking distance to such places as the historic district and its wonderful shops. Attractions such as the ECHO Lake Aquarium and Science Center or the Robert Hull Fleming Museum. Easy access to the airport, train, and parking.

  She would next whip up a list of possible extra side trips for the conference committee to take a look at. Burlington was a gold mine when it came to possibilities. Maybe a cruise on the Spirit of Ethan Allen, the wonderful replica of a twentieth-century steamboat. She’d love to sign on for that one.

  Even with a little over a year to work on prepa
ring the perfect conference, J.J. wanted to get on top of it as soon as possible, leaving time to develop the anniversary party and also keep her schedule open for any other new opportunities. She’d then have the new ones take a backseat just when the last-minute stuff for the conference would take the lead again. It was always a juggling act. At least she’d harnessed her original method of running right up to a deadline, which had been okay for the advertising world, and could now describe herself as someone who planned first before taking the next steps. She felt comfortable putting this project aside and getting on to the main task at hand.

  It was unfortunate they had to wait until tomorrow for Brittany to take the bait. She did need to touch base with Olivia Barker before then and reassure her that all was well. It turned out to be a quick call, fortunately, as Barker was on her way out of the office. At least all was well. So far.

  On the way home, she stopped in at the bookstore to pick up a copy of Evan’s choice of cookbook. She found one copy on the shelf and wondered if she was the last of the Culinary Capers group to pick hers up, or if the others would be in trouble. She’d debated buying it as an e-book, but when she saw the colorful photos in it she was hooked. That’s all it took. When she’d joined the club, she had readily admitted that she bought books for the pictures and didn’t always follow up by making anything she found in the cookbook. Now, being a member, she was forced to follow through, but the imagery still played a major role in her choice of books to buy. It was turning out to be an expensive although totally enjoyable hobby.

  She would thumb through it tonight and choose her side dish, then make a list of ingredients to pick up on the way home from work tomorrow, and do a trial run of the recipe on the weekend. She’d have to choose a suitable guinea pig, though. It couldn’t be anyone from the Capers, which narrowed it down to Skye and Ness. Hm.

  She’d just gotten in her front door, hung up her jacket, and sat down with her new book when the doorbell rang. Thinking it was Ness, she pulled open the door without checking the peephole.

  “Rocco. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m sorry to intrude at your home, but I wanted to talk to you in private, with no one around to intrude.”

  “Come in. How do you know where I live?”

  “I asked Evan Thornton. I hope you don’t mind.” He looked so earnest that J.J. smiled at him.

  “Of course not. Please come in and sit down. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, no. I will be fine. As I said, I just want to talk. Well, to tell you something, I guess.” He sat down on the nearest chair, next to the love seat.

  Intrigued, J.J. sat on the white wicker chair across from him. She waited while he looked around the room, obviously not wanting to jump into what he was about to say. That made her even more uncomfortable than his just turning up at her door. She hoped he wasn’t going to confess to the murder. She didn’t know how she’d handle that. Call the police? She’d have to, but it would pain her to do so. What if that set him off and he attacked her? Not Rocco. He would never hurt her, just like he would never hurt anyone. Of course not. He wasn’t a killer. She knew that. He had not come to confess. She breathed a sigh of relief and waited.

  Finally, he cleared his throat and sat forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped. “You asked about Gina Marcotti’s lover. I know you think it is Mr. Devine, but you are wrong. It’s a me.”

  J.J. gasped. “You?”

  Rocco shook his head. “Yes, for many years now. And I’m not at all apologetic or ashamed. Antonio was playing her for the fool, only she knew what was going on, so who was the fool? I have been alone now for over ten years since my Anna died. I have been lonely. Gina was lonely, too. We are good companions to each other. Now I have said it. You needed to know, but I do ask that you will not tell others about our secret affare di cuore.”

  “Of course not. And thank you for telling me.”

  “If I had not, you may have found out eventually, and that might have done more damage.”

  J.J. felt her face turning red. She hadn’t even thought about the fallout from her dogged pursuit of the facts in this case. She would have hated to have caused Rocco any more pain.

  “I realize that now. I’m sorry to have put you in this position. But you have my word: I won’t tell anyone.”

  He nodded and she relaxed.

  “Can I get you some coffee, some wine?”

  Rocco suddenly smiled, and she felt even happier. “Yes, wine would be fitting. Red, if you have it.”

  “I do. I picked up a nice Valpolicella ripasso for the dinner I did and liked it so much I bought some more.”

  “That’s always a good choice.”

  As she handed him a glass, she asked, “Have you had any further thoughts on who the killer might be?”

  “No. A lot of people wished him harm, but I do not know anyone who would actually do it.” He chuckled. “I think I would have to put myself on that suspect list, if I were a detective. But like the others on it, I didn’t do it.”

  “Someone sure did. Have you heard anything about his dealings with the city councilor Don Kelland?”

  “Sure. Everyone knows Antonio detested the man because of being stonewalled in getting the outdoor patio license for his restaurant. In fact, he had planned to run against Kelland in the next election.”

  “What do you think Antonio’s chances of winning would have been? Any motive there?”

  “That depends on how badly Mr. Kelland wants to remain in politics. Antonio was well known and even respected in the Italian community. His reputation in the restaurant world was less so, but those qualities that had his competitors on edge may have made them vote for him. Being underhanded can be useful for a politician. Personally, you couldn’t pay me enough to do that job.”

  J.J. nodded. “I totally agree. But it can be tempting for someone who likes power.”

  Rocco finished the wine and looked at his watch. “Agreed. Now, I must be going. I have a hot date tonight with a beautiful lady. I am glad we have had this talk, but I don’t think my Gina will be very pleased. I will have to try to make it up to her.”

  He winked, and J.J. felt her cheeks getting warmer.

  CHAPTER 32

  J.J. had just finished checking her e-mail after returning to the office from a visit to her newest client when the phone rang. Skye was already on the other line, so J.J. answered, identifying herself.

  “Good, I’m glad it’s you. This is Gina Marcotti. I would like you to come out to my place right now. Does that work?”

  J.J. recovered quickly from her surprise. “Yes, that will be fine. I’ll see you shortly.”

  Gina had already hung up after hearing the word fine. J.J. wondered if she should be worried. Was Gina really upset about what Rocco had said last night? If so, what did she plan to say, or do? It could be a trap. Gina might be seething about the fact that she’d been found out, but she could also still be the murderer. More likely, though, that she was stricken at the thought that her secret was now out. Feeling embarrassed, even mortified, she might be planning something dramatic, like an overdose of pills and J.J. would be the one to find her. A fitting punishment. She suddenly felt the full weight of her snooping. What was she doing anyway, messing about in other people’s lives?

  J.J. signaled Skye that she was going out, and on second thought wrote down where she was going on a Post-it note and stuck it to the corner of Skye’s computer screen, just in case. She grabbed her purse and jacket, and left. She was grateful she’d brought her car today. It took about twenty minutes to reach her destination. Gina Marcotti seemed to be hovering near the door, because she opened it immediately after the knock.

  “Come with me, please,” she commanded. The politeness did nothing to mask that hardness in her voice. She pointed to a chair in the family room. “Sit.”

  J.J. did as told, keeping her eyes on Gina
. She had felt an initial relief that Gina looked hale and hearty, but now her anxiety had returned. She could tell this wouldn’t be a pleasant visit.

  “I understand that Rocco told you all about us.” Gina stood in front of her, feet slightly apart, hands on hips. The dramatic pose was in total contrast to the supple red silk lounging suit she was wearing. Her hair had been held back from her face by a red-and-black-striped scarf, the ends of which draped over her shoulder.

  J.J. gulped. “Yes, he did. He felt I could be trusted.”

  “And can you?” Her eyes seemed to find their way to J.J.’s soul.

  Get a grip. “Yes, I can.”

  Gina stared at her a few moments before nodding. “Good, because if the word does get out and I can track it to you, you will no longer be in business. That is not a threat; it is the reality.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good, because I still don’t understand why he told you.” She walked over to the lounge she’d been sitting on the first time J.J. had been over, and sat back on it.

  “I had told him that Ty Devine knew the name of your, uh, friend but wouldn’t say anything, so I wondered if it was Devine himself.”

  Gina barked out a laugh. “You have got to be kidding. All right, he’s very macho and handsome, I’ll give you that. But I think only a woman who is interested in that man would jump to that conclusion. Are you?”

  “What? Me? Devine? No way.” Neat way to turn the tables, lady. She could feel her cheeks heat up, though.

  “Hm. Well, I think it is time we have a good conversation. Tell me, who are the other suspects for the murder of my husband? Maybe it is you I should have hired to investigate.”

  J.J. shook her head. “That wouldn’t have been a good idea. I’ve been looking around mainly because, as you know, I’m a suspect, as is my friend Evan Thornton.”

  “Evan. I love that man. He is the most talented decorator in town.” She waved her right hand around the room as she spoke. “I must get him in here to work his magic once this has all died down. He would no sooner kill Tonio than kill a fly. I know he was upset with Tonio, but who wasn’t?”