by Linda Reilly
“Why didn’t you just wipe off the handle and leave the rolling pin there?”
“For the obvious reason, dummy. It’s harder for the cops to solve a murder if they don’t have the weapon. I didn’t get the idea about planting it in that Dumpster until later, when I found out the cops were focusing their sights on Crystal. Anyway, that day, I was at my car when—” He broke off and shook his head.
Talia knew what came next and felt her stomach clench. “When you saw Lucas, the one person who could tie you to the scene.”
“Cripes, I never wanted to hurt that kid! But the look on his face . . . I knew he’d seen enough to nail me to the wall. I’ve got plans, Talia. Big plans! My career is finally going somewhere. Mark my words. I’m going all the way to the statehouse. I just couldn’t have that kid . . .” He covered his face with one hand, but the gun in his other remained straight and steady. “I had to do it. Can’t you see that? I’m glad he’s in critical condition. With any luck, he’ll pass quietly, and I’ll be off the hook. I’ll attend the funeral, of course, and be right there consoling his parents.”
The urge to reach over and punch Ferringer was almost irresistible. Talia clenched her fist in her lap to keep it steady. “You won’t get away with this, Bruce,” she said softly. She knew it was hopeless, but she had to try. “Why don’t you let me drive you to the police station and we’ll hash it out there?”
Ferringer looked at her through crazed eyes, sending a fresh batch of shivers down her spine. “Are you freakin’ kidding me? You seriously think I’m going to turn myself in?”
From somewhere in the distance came the wail of competing sirens, whether from police cars or a fire truck she couldn’t be sure. Both, probably. To her dismay, they seemed to be traveling farther away.
“I can’t sit here with you all day, chatting like we’re at a tea party. Sorry to say it, but you deserve what you’re getting, Talia. You should have kept your nose out of things and stayed in the kitchen, like a proper woman is supposed to.”
The rain was still coming down in sheets. Tears stung her eyes. What would her folks do without her? Ryan would probably take Bo, but—
Without warning, Ferringer shoved open his door and got out. Could she make a run for it?
No time like the present, she decided. She opened her door and stumbled out into the rain. Almost instantly, she felt a powerful hand clamp over her upper arm and drag her toward the other car. She went limp to keep her feet from cooperating, but he dragged her along the pavement as if she were no heavier than a scrap of cloth.
A sob erupted from Talia’s throat. Don’t cry, she told herself. Scream!
She opened her mouth and let out a shriek that should have pierced the average eardrum.
Ferringer slapped his hand over her mouth with one meaty hand and crammed her head under his arm. He dragged her toward the Avalon, using his key to click open the lock to the trunk. Talia saw the lid rise and started to cry.
In one swift movement, Ferringer hefted her upward and dumped her inside the trunk. Her left leg hadn’t quite made it in, so he grabbed onto it. She kicked at him, grazing his shoulder, and he called her a charming name. He grabbed the leg again, and this time managed to thrust it into the trunk. “You’re toast, Talia,” he said with a final rumble of laughter.
Somewhere, a siren whined. This time it sounded closer, almost as if—
Ferringer started to close the trunk, and in the next instant, his face contorted. He let out a shrill, agonized cry and collapsed to the ground. And then a second, even louder cry.
Talia sat up to see Martha standing there, drenched to the bone, a triumphant smirk on her face. Wielding her new umbrella like a weapon of mass duck feet, she pointed it at Ferringer. “I wouldn’t try to get up if I were you, Ferringer. Like you just found out, these duck feet pack a punch.”
Red lights flashed behind Talia’s Fiat, and a siren whooped and then died. From the other end of the alley, in front of the Avalon, a state police SUV roared up and screeched to a halt. Two men hopped out and raced over to Ferringer, who was writhing on the pavement.
“Oh God, please get me to a doctor,” Ferringer moaned, while his hands were being cuffed behind him. “It hurts so bad.”
Sergeant Liam O’Donnell quickly checked him out. “You’ll be fine,” he said with a slight wince, aiming his gaze below Ferringer’s belt. “Probably could use an ice pack down there, though. I’ll see if we have one handy.” He read Ferringer his rights and then led him to the SUV.
Detective Patti Prescott sprinted over to where Martha was standing, and then she saw Talia trying to clamber out of the trunk. She helped her out and made sure she was steady. “Are you okay?” Prescott asked.
Talia nodded. “I am now. A little shaky.”
“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” Prescott said, and then turned her gaze on Martha. “You got him good, Martha. Right on the money!” She gave Martha a light, playful punch to the shoulder. “I guess he couldn’t duck your swing, could he?”
“Actually I got him twice,” Martha said with a sly smile. “Just in case the first one didn’t take.”
Prescott laughed. “Double whammy!”
Talia wiped rainwater and tears away from her face. She ran over and hugged Martha. “He said you’d be stuck in traffic all day, and I believed him.”
“Yeah, well, his directions for evacuating the downtown area made about as much sense as his political platform. I might not be a native, but I wasn’t hatched in a bird’s nest. When he told me to turn left on Bramber, I knew he was sending me in the wrong direction. I probably would’ve ended up in the Housatonic River.” She looked at Talia. “I waited inside for a while, and then I started to wonder if you might be in trouble. I peeked out the back door and saw you sitting in your car. I couldn’t make out much through the rain, but what I saw didn’t look good. I called the cops, grabbed my umbrella, and”—she shrugged—“you know the rest.”
“He told me everything,” Talia said. “He killed Norma and hurt Lucas because Norma and Jodie cheated on the contest and he didn’t want it to ruin the election and—”
Prescott made a time-out sign with her hands. “You can tell me when we get to the station,” she said. “O’Donnell needs to hear it, too.”
Talia turned and hugged Martha again. “You’re my hero,” she said through a round of sniffles.
“I hate to break up this little reunion,” Prescott said. “But we’re standing here in the pouring rain, and you both have to come to the station with me to give a statement. Why don’t you both get inside the unmarked car and—”
“I don’t think so,” Martha interrupted. “I’m not going to the police station until I’ve seen Lucas, so I suggest you drive us straight to the hospital.”
For one agonizing moment, Talia held her breath, waiting for Prescott’s reaction. Had she caught on that Martha knew the truth about Lucas?
The detective gave Talia a stony look, and then her nutmeg-colored eyes softened. She waved both women toward her vehicle. “You don’t have to go to the hospital. Lucas is home. We were going to arrange for round-the-clock protection, but now it looks like we won’t need to.”
Talia looked down at her sodden clothes and made a face. “Only one problem. Unless the waterlogged look is in vogue this season, I don’t think we should show up at the Bartolinis’ house looking like this.”
“Good point,” Prescott acknowledged. “How about if I drive each of you home to change into dry clothes? Then I’ll pick you up and we’ll head over to Lucas’s folks’ house. You can have ten minutes with him, and that’s it. After that, you’re both coming to the station to give a statement. And for heaven’s sake, don’t maul the poor kid! Even though he’s going to be fine, he’s still recovering from a head injury.”
Talia let out a tiny hoot of joy, and Martha gave the detective her coolest of smiles. “Anything you say, Detective. You’re the one in charge.”
24
“O
h my, Talia, I think I am just going to burst! I can’t believe we’re really doing it!” Crystal Galardi wrung her hands, her brown eyes beaming from behind her ruby-tinged eyeglasses. She looked like her old self again, her fingers decked out in colorful rings and her nails glimmering in a sparkly shade of pumpkin. She’d had a beauty treatment the day before, and her blond curls positively bounced around her face.
Talia glanced up from her task of setting up her student stations and smiled at her friend. “Well, we’re doing it,” she confirmed. “I think it’s going to be so much fun. I only hope I won’t mess up my demonstration!”
“Oh, good gravy, don’t even think such a thing.” Crystal clomped over to Talia on her floral-print peep-toe pumps and gazed over the counter along the far right-hand wall where Talia was preparing for her deep-fry demonstration.
“Don’t worry. I’m teasing,” Talia assured her. She hoped.
Talia herself was wearing her usual blue Fry Me a Sliver apron and her cozy new pair of Keds. When she cooked she had to be comfortable, and that meant wearing soft soles.
With Audrey’s help, Crystal had come up with a syllabus for eight cooking demonstrations, one per week, starting on the Saturday following Labor Day. The first one would be today, and Talia had agreed to be the visiting chef. Seven other local chefs, including Dylan McPhee and Harry Summers, had agreed to take a turn at the teaching gig. According to Crystal, Harry had actually gushed over the opportunity, while Dylan had merely shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Along the far right wall of the Fork and Dish, an oak counter, along which six stools had been lined up, formed the somewhat informal classroom. Talia had set up her deep fryer and a convection oven on the work space behind her. It was a mite cramped, but she could make it work. Plans were in the works for a more functional teaching space, but for now the temporary setup would do just fine. She’d heard a rumor that Wesley Thurman was going to help with funding the renovations, but so far that was only hearsay.
Audrey appeared from the storeroom, looking comely in a pale blue sheath and navy ballet flats. Her eyes bore a touch of coppery shadow on the lids, but the sadness in them couldn’t be concealed. “Are we nearly all set?” she asked, looking over Talia’s work space.
“We are.” Crystal slipped her arm through Audrey’s. “Thank you for agreeing to do this, Audrey. I really do think it’ll help bring in more business. It’ll get our name out there, and when the time is right, we can think about expanding.”
Audrey removed her arm and slipped it around her friend’s waist, her pale brown eyes clouded. “I’m sorry I’ve been so awful these past weeks. All I could think about was Wesley coming to town. I was terrified he’d find out about Molly, but it’s obvious he’d already gleaned it. The drawbacks of social media, I guess.”
“Did he tell his family about her yet?” Talia asked.
Audrey nodded. “His dad’s dead, but his mom knows. She’s so anxious to meet her only granddaughter. And his sister, Prissy, went crazy with joy when she learned she has a niece. They’re both going to fly up here to meet her, once Wesley can arrange it.” Her eyes watered.
Talia walked around the oak counter and hugged her friend. “You doing okay?” she asked.
Audrey blotted one eye with her finger. “Molly barely spoke to me before she left for school. She wouldn’t let me drive her, but she let Wesley do it. Oh God, I miss her.”
Talia and Crystal exchanged glances. “So they’re talking, at least. That’s good, isn’t it?” Talia said.
“I guess so. But I feel as if I’ve lost her . . .”
“You haven’t lost her,” Talia assured her. “I know Molly, and I know she adores you. Give her a little space, Audrey. It’ll all work out. I promise.”
Crystal gave Talia a tiny wink and went back to busying herself in the shop.
“Wesley’s thinking of giving Molly the Merkur he bought from Dylan,” Audrey said. “It’s a classic. He said he coveted that hunk of metal from the moment he saw Dylan driving it into the parking lot that day.” A tiny smile quirked her lips, and her expression grew distant. Was she remembering their younger days together?
Talia had heard all about the car purchase. It had happened the day she saw Wesley and Dylan having breakfast in the Popover Palace. Wesley had given Dylan a check for the car, and Dylan had reluctantly handed over the Certificate of Title. No wonder he’d looked so glum when he’d shot out of the restaurant!
“Dylan worshipped that car,” Audrey said, “but he was willing to sell it to help out his mom. Wesley gave him an excellent price—more than it was worth. He promised to help Dylan find another one, when the time is right.”
Talia cringed when she thought about what she’d witnessed that day at the Popover Palace. She’d totally misread what she’d seen and pegged both Wesley and Dylan as killers.
“I can totally picture Molly tooling around in that car,” Talia said with a laugh.
“I can, too. But before Wesley gives it to her, he wants to have it thoroughly vetted by a mechanic to be sure it’s in good shape. Old cars have issues. He doesn’t want Molly breaking down on the highway, or worse.”
Audrey wasn’t the only one who missed Molly. Talia missed her, too. The young woman was a hard worker and fun to be around. A week after Ferringer’s arrest, Molly had set up her ballot box for customers to vote for either skin-on or skin-off French fries. For an entire day, the eatery served only skin-on fries. The locals voted overwhelmingly for the original fries, nixing the ones with skins. Molly was disappointed, but she took it in stride. She’d hugged Talia and thanked her for letting her test her theory.
“It looked to me like Dylan took excellent care of the Merkur,” Talia said. “I saw the clip in the paper about him a few days ago. I’m so glad for him. He’s been taking care of his mom for a while. It’s his turn to get a break.”
According to the director of media relations at Steeltop Foods, the company had offered Dylan a contract to develop a minimum of three recipes a year, subject to approval by the board of directors. The recipes would be widely distributed and used to market a new line of products. Dylan had accepted the deal, subject to his attorney’s approval of the contract. Talia could not have been happier for him. Maybe with a little outside help he’d take the time to polish his manners a bit. He might be a decent guy, but he came off as a grump.
“Did you hear about the Flavor Dial?” Talia asked Audrey, trying to take her mind off Molly.
“It was supposed to be hush-hush,” Audrey said, “but yes, I did hear the news. It was a total embarrassment to the company, so it’s gone the way of the pterodactyls. Good riddance, I say.”
“I think I’m going to hang on to mine,” Talia said. “Steeltop Foods produced a limited number of them, so they might be worth something someday.”
Crystal giggled from the adjacent aisle. “Maybe you can retire on it.”
The door to the shop opened, and in stepped Harry Summers. His handsome face glowed, and his smile lit the room. He waved a sheet of paper in the air and then summoned them over to where Talia stood at her work counter. “I couldn’t wait to tell you all,” he said. “Look.”
The three women crowded around and stared at the photo of a charming old house. Below the photo was a purchase and sale agreement.
Talia recognized it immediately. “You bought Hainsley House!” she squealed, nearly leaping out of her Keds.
Harry beamed. “The owner accepted my offer. We close in ninety days, subject to a satisfactory inspection, of course.” He slid a shy glance over at Audrey. “Mr., um, Thurman is helping me with the financing. He’s giving me a much better deal than any of the banks were able to offer.”
“That’s because he has faith in you, Harry,” Audrey told him. “Remember, it’s an investment for him, too, and he’s hoping to see a return on it.”
“I’ll do my best not to let him down.”
Talia couldn’t help herself. She rushed over and gave Harry a solid hug.
“Is everything else okay, Harry?”
His brow furrowed and his face flushed. “Sandra and I are splitting. Her choice, not mine. Even the idea of owning Hainsley House didn’t excite her, so we’re calling it quits.”
“I’m so sorry,” Talia said quietly.
“Don’t be. I really think it’s for the best. Everything happens for a reason.” With a wave and a grin, Harry headed toward the door. “Good luck with your class, ladies! I’m looking forward to taking my turn at it!” He closed the door, but then opened it again and popped his head in. “Oh, I forgot to tell you—my new restaurant has a ghost!”
They all beamed at the announcement. Talia felt sure Harry would make the most of his newly discovered specter.
“He’s such a sweet man,” Crystal said after Harry left. “That Sandra woman didn’t deserve him, anyway. I’m glad she’s bailing.”
Audrey paled and sat on one of the stools. “I don’t think Sandra ever knew what she wanted. In a way, she was a lot like Norma. Two peas in a venomous pod.” She gave an ironic smile. “I’m tempted to feel sorry for her, but I don’t think I can muster the emotion.”
“Speaking of Norma, have you heard the latest on Jodie?” Crystal tittered.
“Yup,” Talia said. “I saw the interview with her on the news a few nights ago. Now she’s saying she suffered mental abuse at the hands of her husband.”
Jodie Ferringer, whose accusations against her spouse had been lighting up the local papers, claimed she hadn’t been surprised at all to find out he’d killed Norma Ferguson and harmed that “poor young man.” She was anxious to finalize their divorce so she could move on with her life.
“She’s lucky,” Audrey said. “Wesley agreed not to press charges against her for the scheme she tried to pull off. You heard he’s giving the prize money to local charities, right?”
Talia and Crystal both nodded.
“But she might not be so lucky,” Talia added, “if she gets investigated for mishandling campaign funds.”