by Roberts, Ann
Andre grinned seductively. “No, I’m saving myself for Ari’s party. I’ll find me a fine woman there.”
At the mention of Ari, Molly frowned. She hadn’t decided what to do. She was terrible at fighting and she tended to retreat afterward. Whether it was her pride or her ignorance, Ari had to take her hand and walk her through the steps of reconciliation. It didn’t matter who started the fight or what it was about. Molly was truly incapable of bringing them back together, and since Ari had not initiated contact since their horrible phone call the day before, she doubted Ari wanted to see her, and she didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment.
She pulled her lips into a grudging smile. “I’m positive you’re going to lose this bet. So does that mean you got the time to work?”
“Yeah. Let’s go back and dig up some dirt on our new best friend John Rondo.”
Chapter Twenty
Tuesday, October 17th
4:18 PM
Ari learned more information about Aspen through her search on the Internet. Aspen’s journey west to Phoenix from a little town in New York was dotted with many stops along the way, each city a little larger and each opportunity more prestigious. Ari was surprised at the number of restaurant reviews that mentioned Aspen as the chef, and all were complimentary, exclaiming her talent and praising the establishment for hiring such a culinary wonder. She clearly didn’t shy away from the spotlight, and Ari opened several picture files featuring Aspen in her white chef coat with various local power brokers, including the mayor of Milwaukee, the governor of Missouri and several celebrities. Over the years her appearance had changed slightly as she grew her strawberry blond hair out to its current shoulder length, but her face remained youthful and attractive. When she strung together the pieces of Aspen’s bio, it portrayed a woman on the rise looking for advancement and prestige at every turn.
She skimmed the last review in the Albuquerque Journal, another gushing testimonial to Aspen’s talents. It wasn’t until she reached the last few lines that a sentence caught her eye. If Ms. Harper can manage to stay out of the gossip column and concentrate fully on her craft, she will undoubtedly become one of the greatest chefs this city has ever known.
Her eyes narrowed and she checked the date—April twenty-fifth of the previous year. Obviously something juicy had happened that would cause the reviewer to mention it. She scrolled to the top of the column and found the writer’s name, Courtney Belmont. A few more clicks of the mouse and she located the newspaper’s main line.
“Thank God for technology,” she said, dialing the number.
“Albuquerque Journal,” a pleasant voice said.
“Hello, I’m looking for Courtney Belmont, your restaurant critic.”
“Let me check my directory. I’m not familiar with that name.” Ari listened as the woman tapped on her computer keyboard a few hundred miles away. “Huh. I’m not seeing a listing for a Courtney Belmont at this paper. Let me transfer you to the home and living editor who oversees our food section.”
Before she could thank the operator, another two clicks sounded in her ear and a young, nervous voice answered. “Home and living section. This is Mary speaking.”
“Hi. I’m calling from Phoenix, and I read a review by one of your reporters, a Courtney Belmont? I was hoping to speak with her.”
“Um, she doesn’t work here anymore. Is there some way I can help you?”
“Is this the editor of the home section?”
“Uh, no. That’s Mr. McMahon. He’s in a meeting right now. Would you like to call back? I could take a message.”
Mary sounded as though she really wanted Ari to leave a message. Ari smiled. Mary was exactly the kind of person who might divulge more information than she should. “Actually, Mary, you might be able to help me. You said Courtney Belmont didn’t work there anymore. When did she quit?”
“About eight months ago.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“Um, well . . .”
Ari could hear the hesitation in Mary’s voice. She was most likely a good Girl Scout who was smart enough to distrust strangers. “Look, Mary, here’s the thing. I know you don’t know me, but I’m a friend of Courtney’s from high school, and we lost touch a while back. I Googled her and found this review she wrote, and that’s why I called you guys. I really need to find her. Her grandmother is dying, and she wants to see Courtney before she goes.” Ari cringed at the lie, but the image of Jane’s destroyed bedroom quickly balanced her conscience.
“Oh, that’s very sad. I know what it’s like to lose your grandma.”
“I’m sorry. Did your grandmother pass?”
“Not like that. She got lost in Wal-Mart last week. Her mind is really going.”
Ari shook her head and rolled her eyes. “So, getting back to Courtney, do you know why she quit?”
“Uh, I can’t really be sure,” Mary replied. “I didn’t know her very well. She wasn’t one of our regular reporters. We contracted with her to do food reviews, so she just popped in once every couple of weeks. We barely said more than a few words.”
“Do you know where she went?”
“L.A., I think.”
Ari scribbled notes and paused. “Mary, I was reading this review by Courtney, and it was about Aspen Harper, the chef. She sounded intriguing. What’s the story on her?”
“She was this great chef, but she got herself into a real mess.” Mary’s voice grew animated, and Ari could tell she wanted to share the gossip.
“What happened?”
“Well,” Mary began, lowering her voice, “an angry customer at the Haven, that’s the name of the restaurant where she worked, made a scene one night and demanded to see her. He was some bigwig financial asshole who thought he could push people around. Aspen came out to talk to him and his girlfriend, and in front of the entire restaurant he screams at her that the soup was cold, and the salmon was dry—whatever. I never really heard all of the details. Anyway, the story goes that she stood there quietly and listened. Never said a word. Just took it until he was done and then walked back into her kitchen.”
“Sounds like she handled it appropriately,” Ari said. “Why would that be a problem?”
“It wouldn’t if that’s where the story ended. So the girlfriend is this high-profile attorney, and by the next week, her picture is in the local gossip rag, and she’s kissing another woman outside of this lesbian bar, and guess who the woman is?”
“Aspen Harper.”
“You got it. The paparazzi, or what little of it there is in Albuquerque, went crazy. And then two days later, the police get a call from the guy that his Mercedes has been vandalized. Somebody poured acid all over his hood.”
“Wow. How did they connect that to Aspen?”
“Well, they didn’t really. Courtney did. She’d just done a profile on Aspen Harper and thought the woman was a little off. After all this happened she went back to the restaurant and confronted Aspen. She thought there might be a story.”
“And was there?”
“You know, that’s the weird part. She’d been all gung-ho about going after Aspen, and then she totally flipped. She never talked to me, just Dennis, the editor. I overheard her arguing with him one day, saying that she was wrong and that there really wasn’t anything there. Dennis wanted her to dig a lot more, but she wanted to drop it, and she did. He was pretty furious. She quit soon after that.”
“So Aspen never went to court for vandalizing the Mercedes?”
“Nope. The guy collected on the insurance and I’ll bet he never ate at the Haven again.” Mary laughed.
“So was there any other press on Aspen?”
Ari heard Mary exhale. “No, Aspen left Albuquerque around that time. Come to think of it, she went to Phoenix, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she’s working as a chef at an upscale restaurant.”
“Well, just make sure you never criticize her cooking. Word to the wise.”
“So Courtney’s
in L.A. now?”
“I think so, but who knows?”
Ari’s radar pricked up and she stopped doodling on her pad. “Why do you say that?”
“She didn’t give any notice. She just showed up one morning with a memo saying that she was severing her ties with the Journal and her last check could be forwarded to someplace in L.A. I was walking by when she left Dennis’s office and we chatted for a minute.”
“What did she say?”
“Not much. I asked her lots of questions about where she was going, and why she was leaving, but she was evasive. It wouldn’t surprise me if she never went to L.A.” Mary paused, and Ari could tell she was trying to remember something. “There was one interesting point.”
“What was that?”
“She’d bought a new car. I followed her out to the front of the building and said good-bye, and when I looked out the window, I saw her get into a red Dodge Viper.”
“What?” Ari’s hand froze in midsentence. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. And I laughed, wondering how she would ever afford it. Anyway, that’s all I know. I’ve gotta go. I’m only an intern and I need to keep working.”
Ari thanked her and hung up the phone. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the final note she’d added: Courtney Belmont & Aspen Harper = red Dodge Viper.
Chapter Twenty-One
Tuesday, October 17th
7:47 PM
Ari glanced at her watch and sat up on Molly’s couch. She knew if she remained horizontal for much longer she would fall into a deep sleep. Molly still wasn’t home, and a pang of sympathy hit her. Molly was working so hard on this case, trying to rise within the ranks of the police department. She smiled at the thought, certain that Molly would succeed, and she had seen firsthand how capable and competent Molly was at her job.
She went to the kitchen and stirred the pot of stew that waited on the stove. At least when Molly arrived, a wonderful smell would greet her, and she hoped that her peace offering would be enough to dissolve the detective’s jealousy over her bizarre luncheon with Biz Stone. Thinking about Biz was something she tried to avoid. She knew her feelings were more conflicted than she wanted to admit, but she believed what she told Jane. She could be fascinated by a woman and not physically involved. She nodded her head in agreement and kept stirring. Engaged in the mundane task, her mind drifted to the phone call she’d made to Biz a few hours ago, eager to share the new information about Aspen Harper.
Biz agreed to check out Courtney Belmont, and she told Ari that Isabel Collins was a complicated lady who had a restraining order against her from a few years back—for stalking a woman. Ari could imagine either Aspen or Isabel leaving the flowers, and while their investigation seemed focused on those two leads, the fact was, the list of suspects was endless. Jane’s sexual antics could have ignited the fuse of several hotheaded women, and when Ari remembered some of the screaming matches that occurred in the Hideaway bathroom, she knew Jane was frequently the reason.
The lock on the apartment door clicked and Molly glanced instantly toward the kitchen. Ari offered a slight smile but stayed behind the counter while Molly remained just inside the closed door. It occurred to her that they’d advanced into unknown territory. Their past arguments were trivial compared to this one. They had never fought over another woman.
“I heard about last night,” Molly said. “Is Jane okay?”
“Yeah. She’s staying with me for now.”
Molly nodded and studied the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. I guess that’s why you kept calling me, huh?” Her gaze flicked up and quickly darted back to the carpet.
“Well, that and the fact that I nearly threw up after our phone conversation.”
Molly shifted her feet, still unable to look at her. “I said some horrible things. I can’t even imagine why you’re here.”
“Did you mean what you said? Do you really believe we have no commitment to each other?”
Molly looked up with tears in her eyes. “Of course I didn’t mean it. I was just so jealous.”
“Don’t be. I don’t want to talk about this anymore, okay? Biz is a business associate, and if you and I are going to have a relationship, then you need to trust me. Do you trust me?”
Molly looked at Ari as though the thought never occurred to her. “Of course I trust you.”
Ari smiled seductively. “So, detective, what are you doing way over there?”
Molly flew into her arms and their bodies clung to each other as if they’d been apart for months. She held her, and she felt Molly’s body heave with sobs.
“It’s all right, honey. It’s okay.”
“I’m just so sorry.”
She reached for a towel and wiped Molly’s cheeks. “I know.” Their lips connected, igniting the passion that always seemed to smolder just below the surface. Molly pushed her against the refrigerator and unsnapped her jeans.
“Can dinner wait?” Molly whispered.
“That’s why I made stew. It can simmer for a while.”
Molly grinned and pulled her out of the kitchen and into the bedroom for an hour. At one point, Ari jumped out of bed to stir the stew, and when she returned, Molly had lit some candles and turned on some jazz.
“I take it we’re not finished here?” Ari said.
Molly pulled her naked body against her own and they slid into bed again. “No,” she said simply.
Ari leaned back and closed her eyes while Molly’s lips traveled across her body, kissing her everywhere. Her hips found a pleasant rhythm, and when Molly’s long fingers went deep inside her, she cried out in ecstasy, but Molly wouldn’t let go—not until she came twice more. They lay together, and then, as was her ritual, Molly left her and went to the living room and the piano. Ari closed her eyes, listening to the composition Molly was creating, a tribute to her—to their love. Eventually she joined her on the bench, watching her fingers fly across the ivory keys, her face molded into a different kind of passion. She loved watching her compose music. Since she wrote nothing down, she played up to a point, and then she began experimenting, and Ari loved listening to the amazing results. Molly would play several different measures of music, and Ari was always curious to see which one she picked, which blend of notes would be attached to the score. Suddenly Molly stopped playing and reached for her. She kissed her and pushed her down on the piano bench.
“You are insatiable,” Ari said.
Molly grinned. “I know, but the smell of that stew is driving me crazy. I need some nourishment.”
“Then we’d better eat—food,” Ari added with a laugh.
They threw on some clothes and ate at Molly’s breakfast bar, chatting about the day, avoiding the subject of Jane’s orchids, which Ari realized would bring them back to Biz.
“You haven’t forgotten about my party on Friday, have you?”
Molly cracked a smile and stirred her stew. “Not a chance.”
“Did you get me a present?”
“Not yet, but I do have some gift ideas. I’m thinking either a circular saw or a man-hating voodoo doll.”
Ari laughed. “God, someone needs to help my father understand lesbians.”
“Well, I think understanding his own daughter would be a start. I guess for some parents, it’s just not easy to deal with their children. I never had that problem. My family was always so close, and I assumed it was that way for everyone else.”
“You were lucky. Your family skipped a lot of tragedy. I’m sure there were rough times, but they weren’t insurmountable.”
Molly looked at her seriously and touched her cheek. “I know your life was much different. I know how lucky I was as a kid and how lucky I am now to have you.”
The weight of Molly’s words hit her. Years before, at a much different time, she hadn’t been so sure she wanted to live. Now, she couldn’t imagine wanting to end her life. She kissed Molly’s hand and stared into her crystal blue eyes. “So how was your day?”
<
br /> Molly shared her concerns about Rusty. “That boy is too wise for his own good,” she concluded.
“Are you sure he told you everything he knows?”
Molly glanced at her. “There are times, baby, when I really think you should have stayed on the police force. Your instincts are always so good.” She finished off her stew, leaned back and caressed Ari’s arm. “No, I’m not totally convinced. There’s something about him that makes me second-guess what he said. He did confirm that Itchy was working for a guy named John Rondo.”
Ari turned to her. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“He’s been mentioned a few times on the news because he’s mafia. He’s a relative of the Carnotti family.”
That name Ari knew well. “That was Dad’s case several years ago.”
Molly rested her chin on her hand, clearly interested. “What do you remember about it?”
“Well, it started as a drug bust gone bad. An undercover cop wound up dead, and my father was the lead detective on the case. They eventually got a conviction of a cousin of Carnotti, but they could never tie the trail directly back to him. I remember something about evidence disappearing, too.”
Molly arched her eyebrows. “Really? What happened with that?”
“Nothing. Dad could never prove it, but he was rather sure someone was on the take.” She felt a knot forming in her throat. “I think he dropped it because it was around the time that I came out and my mom got sick again.”
“Oh,” Molly said. “I can see why. We don’t have to talk about it anymore. That was a long time ago.”
“Do you think it could have anything to do with your case now?”
“Highly unlikely. Most of those guys have all retired, and none of the players are the same. Now, no more talk about work. I keep getting this image of David Ruskin in my head, standing over my desk and yelling at me.” Molly pecked her on the cheek and began carrying dishes into the kitchen.