Cassie shrugged sadly. “I don’t know. I can write down the names of the restaurants I reviewed critically, if that helps. But I don’t really know anyone at the paper, apart from Gloria Ekenbach, the Lifestyle Editor, and she seems really pleased with how things are going.”
“Okay,” Al said, taking some hotel stationery and a pen from a drawer. He handed them to Cassie. “Here ya’ go. Jes’ put it all down, whatever ya’ can think of. I’ll ask Rob to run checks on all of ‘em.” He paused, and scratched his head. “How about the guy yer’ standin’ in fer at The Seattle Times, Myles whats-his-face?”
Cassie looked up. “You mean Myles Lambert? I’ve never even met him.”
“Don’t matter none,” Al said, rubbing his chin. “Put him on the list, and I’ll see what Rob comes up with. Anyone else ya’ can think of, and I don’t care if it’s someone whose fender ya’ mighta bent outta shape, put ‘em down as well, okay?”
Cassie nodded and picking up the pen, she began to write.
“Good girl,” Al smiled. “Ima gonna call Jake and let him know what we’re doin’. If he can talk to his police contact and have Rob on standby, we can get the names to him right away. Won’t be long.”
Al pulled his phone from his pocket and turned away from Cassie, striding towards the bedroom. His mind was working overtime. Jake wasn’t the only person he needed to contact.
There were two people from Al’s not-so-distant past that had trouble written all over them. First up was Mario Carlucci. His long-time grudge against Al had showed no sign of waning. The last Al had heard about him, Mario had been making inquiries about Al’s whereabouts when he’d briefly relocated to the Caymans. Maybe Mario had learned Al was back in Seattle. Al knew a few people who could tell him whether or not that was the case.
The second person worried him even more. Scrolling through his phone, there were texts he’d received from Kitten Knight as recently as the week before. He’d told Cassie all about Kitten, an ex-girlfriend he’d never been serious about. Kitten seemed to think he’d led her to believe otherwise, and that he’d made promises to her he hadn’t kept. Al was far more concerned about what Kitten was capable of than Mario.
*****
Cassie heard Al’s gruff voice on the phone in the bedroom, as she scribbled the few names she could think of on the hotel stationery. Cassie had been brought up with hippy parents and lived by the motto of ‘Love and Peace,’ so she found it hard to fathom that anyone could hate another human being enough to kill them. Especially not over a restaurant review. For that reason, her list of names was short. She remembered several people she’d had run-ins with over the years, including a woman at her previous job at the Seattle Art Museum, and the mother of a friend of Briana’s, who’d never liked her much. She added them both as an afterthought. When she was finished, she poured herself more coffee and sat back on the sofa, her eyes following the flames in the fireplace.
She knew Al was right, but she couldn’t get the last words her daughter had said to her out of her head.
“I will never forgive you for doing this,” Briana had seethed after Cassie and Al’s short marriage ceremony at The Chapel of Love in Las Vegas.
The fact her children had agreed to come to Las Vegas for Al’s surprise proposal had led Cassie to believe they were supportive of the marriage. While it turned out her son, Liam, was not delighted about it, his words were kinder than Briana’s. “If it makes you happy, Mom,” was all he’d said about the wedding.
Cassie knew it was quite soon after Johnny had died, and people might think she married Al on the rebound. But when Al had gotten down on one knee, she knew it was one hundred percent right. She’d never been more certain of anything in her life. She never doubted for a second that Al was her second chance for happiness. Nor did she question how lucky she was to have been blessed by true love again after a twenty-something-year marriage. All of her instincts told her to seize the moment with Al, because she knew first-hand how lives and circumstances could change in a heartbeat.
Her daughter Briana had adored her father, and was still heartbroken by his death. Cassie wanted nothing more than to help her daughter through her grief, and for her to understand that Cassie marrying Al did not diminish her former love for Johnny, or tarnish his memory in any way. But Briana had rejected Cassie’s pleas to listen to her, and left Las Vegas right after the ceremony. Briana hadn’t returned any of her mother’s calls in the past ten days.
Cassie’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Al yelling from the direction of the bathroom. He sounded panicked. “CASSIE!!”
She jumped up and ran through the bedroom, stopping to remove the pistol from the drawer of her bedside table, where Al had placed it when he moved in after their marriage. He’d explained that it was necessary because of his past, and he’d trained her how to use the gun during several trips to a firing range.
“Yer’ not a bad shot,” he’d said as he complimented her with pride after the second lesson at the pistol range. “I’d be scared if ya’ were pointing that thing at me.”
Cassie ran into the bathroom, her hands holding the gun steady, pointing it like she’d learned, having no idea of what she’d find. Her husband was cowering in the corner, his back against the wall.
“Over there.” Al’s voice was low, and he nodded at the black creature in the bathtub. “I thought ya’ was gonna speak to Housekeeping. That’s the second time in a week one of ‘em has been in the tub.”
Cassie put the gun down with a sigh. She leaned into the bathtub and scooped the spider up in her hands. “This little thing? It’s tiny, Al.” She held her cupped hands out for Al to look, but he was backing out of the room.
“Kill it,” he ordered, his deep voice returning.
“It’s unlucky to kill a spider,” Cassie said softly.
“Yep. Unlucky fer’ the spider,” Al said, leaving the room as quickly as he could.
Cassie smiled, and opened the window quietly. Letting the spider go, she closed the window again before flushing the toilet.
“All gone,” she called to her husband. “Down the drain. It’s safe to come back in here.”
CHAPTER 3
Kitten Knight pulled her jacket across her shoulders and smiled at the waiter who was approaching with her cocktail balanced on a tray he was holding in his hand. Sitting on the open air patio of The Nest Bar at The Thompson Hotel, a dozen stories above Puget Sound, the postcard panoramic view came at the price of a cutting March afternoon breeze. She reached her hand up to tuck several stray platinum hairs into the braid that was twisted around in a loose knot at the back of her head. It was a style she’d seen models wearing on the runways in New York that season, and when she’d returned to Seattle, she’d shown her hair stylist the photograph she’d taken of it. Kitten wanted her to replicate it. Kitten changed her hair styles like some people change their shoes, and she had an entire closet devoted to elaborate hairpieces and accessories.
“Thank you,” she said to the waiter as he set the chunky highball glass on the table, her voice a soft purr. A well-practiced flutter of her eyelashes, a hint of a pout, and two twenty-dollar bills pressed into his hand, she’d learned a long time ago, would ensure a waiter’s attention for the rest of her visit. She stirred her Mojito with the black straw that came with the drink, causing the ice to clink in the glass before raising it to her scarlet lips and taking a long sip through the straw. The chilled white rum, laced with lime juice and an infusion of mint leaves was a refreshing way to start the day. Although it was after three in the afternoon, Kitten always slept past noon, and never ate before dinner, her one meal of the day. It was a routine she’d followed since her performing days, twenty-five years earlier, and the way things worked out, she didn’t see any reason to change.
Kitten’s sister, Maureen, came tottering across the patio, laden with shopping bags from several of the nearby department stores. Setting her bags down, she waved for the waiter before leaning down to graze Kitt
en’s cheek with her lips. Then Maureen reached for Kitten’s drink and emptied half of its contents in two big gulps.
“Hey…” Kitten protested, but Maureen held the glass out of reach. The waiter appeared within seconds, and Kitten ordered a jug of Mojitos and a fresh glass.
Maureen beamed. “Can you believe that dude in the gray suit outside the elevator just carded me? I know I look good, but please, I don’t think I look that young.”
Kitten’s face was expressionless, the result of her regular botox maintenance several days earlier. “The guy with the earpiece? Maybe he has a thing for older women. You do look great, Maureen, but you’re over fifty.”
“Hmm.” Maureen settled in her chair, eyeing her younger sister. “You’re only a couple of years behind me. Although ever since you went to the same plastic surgeon as Kim Kardashian, I’m not sure I recognize you anymore. Is my Kitty still in there, somewhere?”
Kitten smiled. “Of course. Maybe it’s because I never married or had children, that the years have been kind to me. I might have had a few tweaks to my face, but my body is all natural.”
Maureen frowned. “Apart from the breasts, you mean, and the liposuction?”
They paused while the waiter returned to the table with their drink order.
“Lipo isn’t like having work done. I consider it to be body maintenance,” Kitten retorted. She reached for her drink. “And my boob job is ancient history.” She peered down at her ample cleavage. “Anyway, I had to do the augmentation for work and it was tax-deductible, might I add.”
Despite the cosmetic help she may have had, Kitten’s years as a burlesque dancer had been good to her body. Even though she hadn’t performed on stage in a long time, she still went to regular dance classes, ballet being her passion. As a teenager, she’d grown too tall to be a professional ballet dancer, and in any case, her father, an actuary for a pension fund company, had vetoed what he called ‘any silly dancing nonsense.’ He’d wanted both of his daughters to attend college. Maureen had complied, but Kitten had rebelled.
Maureen rolled her eyes. “You know you broke daddy’s heart. The day he saw your name in lights on the marquee of that crummy little strip club where you first started working was the day the light in his own eyes went out. He was never the same again. I think the shame got him before the cancer did.”
Kitten leaned across to her sister with an icy stare. “You might have been a goodie-two-shoes and done everything daddy said, and where did it get you? Two ex-husbands just like him, and you weren’t able to speak your mind till you hit fifty and finally came to your senses. Glad to see you’re making up for it now, though. At least I made my own way and knew my own mind.”
“If sleeping with rich men is making your own way, then I guess you’re right,” Maureen said with a giggle, setting her heavy based glass down on the table and reaching for the Mojito jug. Kitten held hers out for a refill, and Maureen began to pour. “Speaking of which, I saw a friend of yours the other day.” She gave Kitten a sly wink.
Kitten’s eye narrowed. “Who would that be?”
Maureen discarded her straw, and lifted the glass to her mouth. “Oh, you know. The big old sexy guy you’re so taken with. I think his name’s Al something-or-other. You know, the one with the scar and the goofy smile.”
Kitten sat back in her chair, watching Maureen, and said nothing for several moments. The sisters had an uneasy relationship. Although they saw each other regularly since they were each other’s only family apart from Maureen’s adult children, there was still a sibling rivalry between them that had existed ever since childhood. After Kitten had left home and been shunned by her parents for her chosen career, she’d envied Maureen’s closeness to them, especially their father. For many years, she’d suspected Maureen had felt stifled by conformity and regretted having lived her life for other people. Now a well-off divorcee, Maureen had only started to come out of her shell in middle age. But if Maureen really had seen Al De Duco, Kitten wanted to know all about it.
“Are you sure? A few months ago he moved to the Cayman Islands. In fact, I was planning on visiting him there, so I’m surprised you saw him here in Seattle.”
“Oh, I’m sure, all right,” Maureen said. She sucked in her cheeks. “But I don’t think you’ll be visiting him, when you hear what he’s been up to.”
Kitten didn’t like the smug smile that was plastered all over her sister’s face. She tried to stay calm, wondering what Maureen could be referring to. Kitten and Al had been an off and on item for quite a few years. They had an understanding, and a good time dating whenever it suited Al. Kitten had several other wealthy suitors, and between them all, she enjoyed a nice lifestyle. She lived in a very upscale condominium, paid for from several Las Vegas homes she’d owned back in her heyday.
Her suitors paid for meals out and holidays, along with generous gifts of designer clothes, shoes, and sometimes jewelry. The small sum Kitten had inherited when her father died remained untouched, the lion’s share of his estate having gone to her mother and Maureen. Now that their mother had dementia and required around-the-clock care, it was likely there would be nothing else coming her way when her mother died.
“What do you mean, what he’s been up to?” Kitten said, laughing lightly. “He must be back in town on business. I should call him and find out for myself.” She was free later that evening, so she decided she’d do just that. She’d felt bad for Al ever since his boss Vinny had been murdered in what initially looked like a gangland hit. She knew he blamed himself for not being able to prevent Vinny’s death.
“Oh, you know,” Maureen said, staring straight at Kitten. She paused, before dropping her bombshell. “He got married.”
Kitten’s jaw dropped, and she had to steady her hand or her glass would have dropped too. She wanted to slap that stupid smirk off of Maureen’s face, but desperate for more information, she forced herself to retain her composure. During the time she’d been with Al, he’d never been available to settle down, because his work took him wherever Vinny went. A time or two they’d talked about the future, and Kitten had enjoyed hearing about Al’s dreams of retiring to the Cayman Islands. She’d thought it sounded idyllic, if a little dull, and often joked about joining him there. Al had said she’d be welcome any time. She’d always taken that as an open invitation to visit him whenever she wanted to. And if she’d decided to stay on…well, she’d always assumed that was a possibility too.
Maureen reached into one of her shopping bags and pulled out a copy of that day’s newspaper. “Here,” she said, handing it to Kitten, who looked confused. Maureen was pointing at the restaurant review page. “Look, it’s all there.”
“What on earth has this got to do with Al?” Kitten asked, glancing down at the paper.
“That’s who he got married to,” Maureen said, patiently. “The woman who’s the new Food Spy. I saw him at the auction house when I was having a painting appraised. He was telling me all about her, what she did, and stuff like that. He was very pleased with himself. Said they were just back from their wedding in Vegas. Oh, by the way, he asked about you and sends his regards.”
Kitten’s hands were shaking as she scanned the newspaper article Maureen had given her. The restaurant reviewer, a woman by the name of Cassie Roberts, gave a lot of personal details in the food column she wrote which read more like a journal. The writer’s thoughts about food were overshadowed by anecdotes about her darling new husband, and their plans for her upcoming birthday celebration at Le Bijou Bistro.
An angry mist descended over Kitten, hurt beyond belief by how Al had treated her. Her chest tightened, and she was shocked at the realization that she would have loved to be Mrs. De Duco, if she’d ever known it was an option. Instead, this Cassie Roberts woman had stepped in and seduced Al at a time when he was vulnerable because of Vinny’s death. And to top it all off, Cassie Smugface was parading her prize husband all over the press. Kitten threw the paper onto the table in disgust, looking past M
aureen to the backdrop of islands, the Olympics, and ferries plowing through the Sound.
Maureen’s voice interrupted the swirl of thoughts racing through Kitten’s mind. “Kitten, are you—”
Kitten glanced at Maureen’s worried face. “It’s a bit late for concern, sister dearest. If you’ll excuse me, I have a call to make.” Kitten picked up her phone and walked across to the edge of the patio, where a chest-high clear barrier was the only thing that separated her from the rush hour traffic on First Avenue located far below from where she was standing.
The only way she’d be able to find out if she still had any place in his life was to speak to Al himself. Leaning against the barrier, she pressed his number. It went straight to voicemail.
“Hey, Al,” she said sweetly. “Maureen told me you’re in town. I believe congratulations are in order. Maybe we could hook up when you’re free. I’ve been missing you, and you know what that means, baby. Mwah.” She blew a kiss into the handset and ended the call.
Walking back to the table, she smiled to herself. There was no reason to let a small problem like a wife stand in the way of Kitten and her one true love. Now that she knew Al was the marrying type, she had to make him see that he’d married the wrong woman. By the time she got back to where Maureen was sitting, her phone pinged with a message from Al. She smiled to herself and knew everything was going to work out. Easing back into her chair, she crossed her legs. She knew Maureen’s eyes were on her as she read the message from Al.
“Kitten, I’m not interested. I love my wife. Please don’t contact me again. Take care of yourself, Al.”
Murder at Le Bijou Bistro: Northwest Cozy Mystery Series (Northwest Cozy Mysteries Book 5) Page 3