by Kylie Logan
She didn’t answer me. I didn’t need her to.
“So let’s take a look at those papers.” In spite of Ben’s muffled “No!” I unfolded the papers in front of me. “I’ve even got an attorney here who can interpret them for us.”
Declan stepped forward and read from the papers. “The parties involved are Benito Gallo and Tina Moretti. The marriage took place in Texas and so did the divorce. That date was July 22, 2001.”
Dulcie gasped and slapped a hand to her heart. A second later, her expression melted from stunned to Aha! I had to give it to Dulcie, she didn’t look like the brightest bulb in the box, but she caught on quickly.
Not so much everyone else.
“July 22, 2001,” I explained, “was the day Meghan had her screen test for None Are Waiting.”
“But how could she—” One look from her husband and the countess swallowed her question.
“How could she be in two places at once?” I stared at Corrine. “I should have seen it from the start. You see, Corrine, here, isn’t the most efficient personal assistant on the planet. In fact, she’s not very good at all. But Meghan never criticized her. Meghan never got rid of her. See, Corrine knew a secret, one Meghan couldn’t mess with.”
I picked up the photograph we’d found in the cookbook and passed it from person to person.
“That’s Dallas in the background, by the way,” I told them. “And the woman in the picture—”
“Is Meghan,” Wilma said.
“Is Corrine,” I corrected her. “Remember, before Meghan had all her cosmetic surgeries, Corrine and Meghan looked enough alike to be mistaken for sisters. So when Meghan . . . or Tina, as she was then . . . needed to be in California for a screen test, but she was desperate to get out of her marriage to Ben and had to be in Texas to sign the papers—”
“She sent this Corrine in her place?” The countess was breathy.
“That’s right. She sent Corrine in her place. Declan checked.” I gave him a small smile. “Both the parties to a divorce do not have to appear at the same time to sign the papers. Not in Texas. Of course, Ben would have known immediately that it wasn’t Tina who signed those papers, but Ben wasn’t there.”
“And no one else knew Tina,” Dulcie said. “If they ever questioned it—”
“They looked enough alike to be sisters,” I confirmed.
Ben pounded the table with one fist. “What difference can any of this make now?”
“It made enough of a difference that Corrine would do anything to deflect suspicion from you. That’s why you sent me the email implicating Dulcie, right, Corrine? Not that you knew the whole story! You had no idea what Meghan had done to Dulcie, but you knew enough about Meghan’s private affairs to know she sent Dulcie a check every month. You figured whatever it was, it must have been something juicy. You thought if we found Dulcie, if we found out about the payments, Dulcie would look guilty.”
Corrine didn’t answer. She didn’t need to.
“Dulcie and Corrine, they were the only ones who knew Meghan was really Tina. Dulcie, Corrine, and you.” I turned to Ben.
He kept his mouth shut. It didn’t matter.
I shook my head. “Really?” I looked at him hard, but he refused to meet my gaze. “Come on, Ben, you’re a smart guy and Meghan knew that. Meghan never signed those papers. Corrine did. The divorce isn’t legal.”
“What!” The countess rose on shaky legs and when Ben put a hand on her arm, she yanked it away. “Are you telling me . . . ? Does this mean . . . ?”
“I did it for you,” he told her. “I had to get the papers back, so you wouldn’t know. So our marriage wouldn’t be annulled.”
“Marriage.” She kicked back her chair and marched away from the table. “We have no marriage, Benito. We never have.”
With that, the countess stomped out the door.
“That’s exactly what you were afraid of, wasn’t it?” I asked Ben. “The countess would find out and your lifestyle would go up in smoke. That’s why you wanted the papers back. But there has to be a reason Meghan told you about the whole thing in the first place. What did she want from you in exchange for the divorce papers?”
Ben snorted out a laugh. “She told me what Corrine had done, that Corrine had impersonated her and signed the papers. She told me my marriage to Adalina wasn’t legal. And the only thing that could get her to destroy the papers would be if I took him to live with me.” He slanted his son a look.
Wilma draped an arm around Spencer’s shoulders. “And this you would not do?”
“The last thing I need is some stupid kid hanging around.” Ben’s top lip curled. “I tried to get the papers back myself. When Corrine told me Meghan came here, I knew she must be onto something. I followed her, we fought.”
“And you killed her.”
Wilma pulled Spencer closer.
Corrine dissolved into a puddle of tears.
And Gus?
He got up and put the cuffs on Benito Gallo.
* * *
• • •
WITHIN ANOTHER THIRTY minutes, it was all over.
Ben was read his rights and taken to the police station.
Corrine went back to the cell where she’d spent the night.
Dulcie actually thanked us for letting her be part of the whole thing because she said it was better drama than any screenplay she’d ever read.
Wilma and Spencer . . . well, I knew it would take time for Spencer to process everything that had happened. Wilma told me she’d take him back to California, that she’d look after him, and I promised to stay in touch.
As for the rest of us there at the Terminal . . .
It was another busy Sunday and the latest buzz of news—Ben Gallo’s arrest—just added to our popularity. By the time we were done for the day, we were all exhausted.
“We’re going to need a new waitress,” Sophie said, doing the final cash tally for the night. “Too bad, because Dolly was pretty good.”
“And pretty desperate.” I thought about all those cats. “Gus says it’s up to us whether to file charges against Dolly because of the fire. Maybe we don’t have to? Maybe we can give her another chance?”
Sophie beamed. “I was hoping you’d say that. And maybe we could help out with those cats of hers, too.”
* * *
• • •
DECLAN AND I stayed behind to lock up.
“No more murders,” I told him. “I’m ready for a summer of being nothing but a chef and a farmer and . . .”
We’d already turned off the lights in the waiting area and the evening shadows mixed with the last of the sunlight, slanting over his face. He looked more handsome than ever and I already knew he was the best thing about my life.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” I confessed.
“Well, that’s an improvement.” He pulled me into his arms and I felt the rumble of his laughter in his chest. “You’ve been really good about asking for my help lately.”
I looped my arms around his waist. “That’s because I need your help. I need you. And that’s why I have something to ask you. Declan Fury, will you marry me?”
Chapter 22
We waited until fall because by then, we knew we could celebrate our first summer at Pacifique and a bumper crop.
It was a good thing, too. After the church when our guests showed up at the Terminal for our wedding reception, we were ready with the tastiest dishes made from all the freshest ingredients.
There was Irish soda bread, of course, as well as Ellen’s Irish stew and a pot of colcannon so big, George could barely get it out of the kitchen.
There was French cassoulet in honor of the farm where Declan and I would spend the rest of our lives.
There was tagliatelle with asparagus and marjoram, and Middle Eastern stuffed grap
e leaves, and Polish sausage, and pad thai and fried rice.
And there were smiles all around.
“I can’t help it!” Sophie, my maid of honor, grinned and cried at the same time. “I’m so happy, Laurel. I’ve never been this happy in all my life.”
I knew exactly how she felt.
Wilma and Spencer were our guests, as were all of our regular customers, all of Declan’s huge family, and even Gus Oberlin, who, it turned out, had a wife named Greta who could polka like nobody I’d ever seen.
“It’s perfect.” Side by side with Declan, I watched our guests dance to the tunes of Luigi Lasagna and his Amici.
Declan slipped an arm around my waist. “You’re perfect.”
Yes, I know, a wedding day is probably not the right time to correct your new husband, but I couldn’t help myself.
“We’re perfect together,” I told him. “And this is the perfect happily ever after.”
Recipes
There’s nothing more delicious than Italian food. Here are a couple of recipes passed along from Laurel Inwood Fury and the folks at the Terminal at the Tracks. Mangia!
SPAGHETTI FRA DIAVOLO
1 pound of spaghetti
⅔ cup olive oil
10 cloves garlic, sliced very thin or minced
1½ teaspoons crushed red pepper flakes (or use chile de arbol, if you like)
2½ cups tomato puree
½ cup fresh basil leaves, thinly sliced
¼ cup fresh mint leaves, roughly chopped
¼ cup fresh parsley, roughly chopped
2 teaspoons salt
½ teaspoon black pepper
Cook pasta according to package directions. While that’s cooking, make your sauce. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium flame. Add garlic and cook for 2–3 minutes, stirring frequently, until garlic is fragrant and just starting to turn golden. Add crushed red pepper and stir. Add tomato puree, stir, and reduce heat to medium. Cook for 8 minutes—stirring occasionally—or until the oil begins to rise and separate from the tomato puree. Mix in fresh herbs, salt, and pepper; taste and adjust seasoning as needed.
Once pasta is cooked and drained, add it to the sauce. Reduce heat to low, cover pan, and let pasta cook in the sauce for 2–3 minutes.
Serves 4.
PENNE WITH BACON, TOMATOES, AND SPINACH
1 pound penne pasta
2 tablespoons olive oil, divided
6 slices bacon, chopped
2 tablespoons minced garlic
1 (14.5-ounce) can diced tomatoes
1 bunch fresh spinach, rinsed and torn into bite-size pieces
While your penne is cooking according to package directions, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a skillet over medium heat. Place bacon in the skillet and cook until browned and crisp. Add garlic and cook for about 1 minute. Stir in the tomatoes and cook until heated through.
Place the spinach into a colander and drain the hot pasta over it so it is wilted. Transfer to a large serving bowl and toss with the remaining olive oil and the bacon-and-tomato mixture.
Serves 4.
Kylie Logan is the national bestselling author of the League of Literary Ladies Mysteries, the Button Box Mysteries, the Chili Cook-Off Mysteries, and the Ethnic Eats Mysteries.
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