Killer Beach Reads

by Gemma Halliday Publishing

  He placed the pillows back on the sofa and sat down again, his eyes still on Josie. "I heard you've turned into quite the baby factory. How many? Got your own Brady Bunch now?"

  "Four," Josie spat the word out. "Four boys."

  Lorenzo scanned her up and down, his gaze lingering on her chest. "Still looking good though." He turned to me and waggled his tongue. "And how's that luscious baby sister of yours?"

  My lips curled backward in disgust. The man did nothing for me except make the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. "Where were you when Aunt Luisa died?"

  He gave a sharp bark of laughter. "What are you, a cop now?"

  I moved a step closer. "Alana found her at the bottom of the stairs early that afternoon. You came back, fought with her, and took the teapot, didn't you?"

  Anger flashed through his eyes as he got to his feet. "I think you'd better leave now."

  Since this tactic wasn't getting us anywhere, I decided to try a little white lie. "One of the neighbors saw you going into Aunt Luisa's house that morning."

  The color faded from Lorenzo's face. He leaped to his feet and grabbed me by the shoulders. "Who? Who saw me?"

  Josie pushed him back. "Take your greasy hands off of her."

  Lorenzo gave us both a long look then turned away, running his hand through his hair. He walked toward the kitchen and stopped, his back to us, voice barely audible. "Okay. Yeah, I was there."

  Bingo. "What did you do to her?"

  "Nothing!" He whirled around to face us. "She was fine when I left, honest. I only went back to ask her to give me another chance. She told me to never darken her doorstep again. Said I was a loser and I'd never amount to anything." He clenched his fists at his sides. "How could she say that? About me, of all people."

  Josie snorted. "Gee, that's a mystery. After years of giving you handouts, she finally came to her senses."

  "What were you blackmailing her with?" I asked.

  Lorenzo scoffed at me. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

  "Alana said she heard you guys talking the day before Luisa died. You threatened to reveal some information about her."

  He bit his lower lip and paused before answering. "Nothin'. I didn't have nothin' on her. She was crazy and a mean old hag, but shit, everyone knew that."

  Josie frowned. "So you're telling us you didn't hurt her?"

  He nodded. "She was fine. Alive and well and screaming for me to leave. Her perfect, nasty self. Now, get the hell out of here."

  I exchanged glances with Josie. I doubted Lorenzo could be trusted. He'd been a liar and sleaze all his life. When I thought about the incident with my sister, it took every effort of my being to keep from smacking him.

  As I reached for the doorknob, we both glanced back at him. Lorenzo was sitting on the sofa, head in hands. I suspected this was all for show. Drama ran high in our families.

  "Don't leave town," Josie said and shut the door firmly behind us.

  Out in the bright sunlight, I stared at my best friend, confused. "What the heck was that all about? He hasn't been charged with anything."

  Josie grinned. "Aw, ease up. I always wanted to say that."

  We sat in the car for a minute, soaking up the air-conditioning, as I gave one last look at Lorenzo's apartment. "It's him. I know it is."

  "What do we do now?" Josie asked. "Go to the cops?"

  I shook my head. "I need to talk to Grandma first and see how she wants to handle it."

  "Do you want to check out the other pawn shop on Western Avenue Art mentioned?"

  Before I could respond, my phone pinged with a text from my sister. I stared at the seven-word message. Please come rescue me from this hell.

  I tried to hide my smile, but Josie caught it. "Is that from Gianna? Did the kids try to tie her up again?"

  I started the engine. "I'd better get you home."

  She made a face. "Aw, and I was starting to enjoy detective work. Can we try tomorrow?"

  "Fred Thompson will be at the shop in the morning to start work. Is there any way you can meet me early so we can get going on the painting?"

  "Sure. Tomorrow's Rob's day off. And as of next week, he goes back on nights for good, so this will work out perfectly."

  "Sweet!" I bumped my fist with hers. "It's all coming together." I took a right turn onto her street. "I'll see if Gianna wants to take a ride with me. I need to get some furniture fast and maybe a piece or two of artwork for the shop. Something elegant but not too expensive."

  "There's a great place over in Albertown if you don't mind a forty-five minute drive," Josie said. "It's called My Antique World. Rob's mom got a beautiful picture for her living room there. I can't remember the address, but I'll call her and ask. It's pretty close to that new discount furniture warehouse too."

  I snapped my fingers. "I saw an ad for them in the paper yesterday. That would be great—killing two birds with one stone, so to speak. The sooner they deliver, the sooner I can move out. Maybe even by tomorrow."

  "You go, girl. And I know you're right about Lorenzo. He's guilty as sin. We only need to find a way to prove it now."

  CHAPTER SIX

  After a quick lunch, Gianna and I rode out to the furniture warehouse and hit instant pay dirt. I purchased a new mattress, full-sized bed, dresser, sofa, and end table for twelve hundred dollars. The only thing I needed now was a dining room table and chairs but I planned to scout a few garage sales over the weekend. For an additional seventy-five dollars, they promised to deliver all the furniture tomorrow. I was thrilled with how everything was working out for me.

  As we drove to nearby My Antique World, I decided to fill Gianna in on the visit to Lorenzo's.

  She shuddered. "It's a good thing you didn't go alone. That guy is like gum on the bottom of your shoe. Useless and disgusting. What do you think he did with the teapot?"

  My GPS announced, "You have reached your destination," as I pulled up in front of a single level red brick building with a large plate glass window. "My guess is he's got the teapot hidden until he can unload and sell it somewhere. I'll give Art a call and ask him to let me know if it happens to show up."

  Gianna drew her eyebrows together. "Would Lorenzo be stupid enough to take it to a local shop? Oh, wait—I just remembered who we're talking about."

  "Forget about him. Come on. Let's try to find a nice picture for the shop." I grinned at my sister as I shut the car door. "Thanks for helping me pick out the furniture. It felt good—sort of like therapy for me."

  "You had every right to take the stuff from yours and Colin's apartment." Gianna glanced at me curiously. "Are you getting alimony?"

  I shook my head.

  My sister's natural attorney-in-training genes kicked in at full force. "Why not? Colin owes it to you. He's the one who was at fault. You should have taken him to the cleaners and gotten at least fifty percent of everything he has."

  I heaved a sigh. "Fifty percent of nothing is nothing. He couldn't hold a job and I made more money than he did. Besides, it wouldn't matter if Colin had millions. I want nothing from him."

  My sister's large brown eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, Sal. I know you're hurting."

  A lump formed in my throat, and I shook my head. "I'm okay. Honest. It's time to get on with my life. I don't want to hear from him again. Ever."

  It was strange to say the words out loud. After being involved with Colin for the past ten years, almost half my life, it was likely I wouldn't see him again. I thought about the night he proposed to me, going down on one knee and saying there'd never be anyone else for him. Was it all a lie even then? Had he ever really loved me?

  Gianna waved a hand in front of my face. "Sal? Where'd you go?"

  I blinked. "Sorry. My mind wandered off for a minute."

  She linked her arm through mine. "No need to apologize. It's all uphill from here, honey."

  We opened the door to a musical tinkling of bells. I loved the sound and instantly decided to get a st
rand for my bakery. It was good for me to be occupying my mind with the business now.

  The shop was elegant, containing oblong glass display cases that connected together in the shape of a U, with enough room to allow customers to walk between them. The plush maroon carpeting was thick under my sandals and the walls a light colored sandstone. Several different chandeliers for sale were displayed from the ceiling. I glanced at them and marveled at the crystal designs, wishing I had both a formal dining room and the money to buy one.

  What the heck had Josie been thinking? There wasn't anything I could afford here. I started toward the rear of the shop. There were some paintings hanging on a back wall and a few underneath in a wooden storage case.

  "They're all priced to sell." A deep voice boomed from behind us, and we turned around. A man of about forty was standing there. He was dressed in a black, expensive-cut suit I could have sworn was Prada. He smiled as his hazel eyes appraised us.

  "Thanks, but we're just looking." It had been a mistake to come here. I needed to find an excuse to leave discreetly.

  "She needs some artwork," Gianna added.

  So much for my theory, as the man rubbed his hands together in glee. "Well, you've come to the right place. I'm George. We have some lovely pieces. Let me show you."

  I held up a hand. "Wait a sec. This is for my new business—a bakery. I'm not sure you'll have what I'm looking for."

  "Why, I have just the thing," George said. He glanced at the labels on the sides of the case and pulled one out. It was a ten-by-twelve, silver-framed picture of a platter of smiling cookies. The label read, "Happy Cookies." The art print was on natural white matte paper with clear quality. It was vibrant and the whole effect quite adorable, making it perfect for my little shop.

  "How much?" I held my breath.

  "Only a hundred dollars," George said.

  My heart sank with disappointment. "I'm sorry, it's too much. Thanks for your time, though."

  George observed me carefully as he tapped a pencil against his teeth. "I guess I could let you have it for seventy-five."

  "Fifty dollars is all I have in my budget."

  George gave a short laugh. "My dear, you cannot purchase anything in here for fifty dollars. This is not a garage sale."

  "Yes, of course. Sorry to have wasted your time." I turned to leave.

  "All right," he said, visibly annoyed. "Sixty-five dollars, and that's my final offer. Take it or leave it."

  I glanced at Gianna for her opinion, and she nodded. "It really is cute, Sal."

  And I really wanted it. "Okay, you've got a deal."

  "Step over to the counter so I can write up the sale," George said.

  "Do you have any vintage lamps?" Gianna asked. "I'd love something for my nightstand."

  He nodded and pointed to a doorway which led to an adjoining room. "You should find a few in there. Most of the items back there are quite pricey, so if your budget is similar to this lady's, you're out of luck."

  Gianna narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing. She turned and walked toward the other room as I cocked one eyebrow at George. He didn't seem to notice or care. There was no need to be so condescending. After all, we were paying customers. Not paying much, but still.

  "Cash or charge?" he asked.

  "Debit card," I said, producing it from my wallet.

  George grabbed the card without another word and slid it through his machine. After a few seconds he handed me a receipt to sign. "Have a pleasant day."

  I was about to reply "You too" when his phone rang and he turned away from me to answer it. I walked into the adjoining room to find Gianna standing motionless in the center, surrounded by several curio cabinets. She looked at me and opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  Gianna pointed a shaking finger at a cabinet. I followed her gaze and froze too. Sitting on a middle glass shelf, surrounded by silver spoons, antique vases, and a china tureen, was Aunt Luisa's teapot.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I would have known it anywhere. The porcelain teapot had an octagonal-shaped body and was quite unusual with its molded-leaf borders and paneled sides decorated with flowers and green enamel trim lines.

  When I was a little girl and my great-grandmother still alive, Gianna and I would make the dreaded weekly trip to her house along with Grandma Rosa. Aunt Luisa would be there sometimes too, and we had to sit quietly while the three of them would talk and argue back and forth in Italian. One time Aunt Luisa had caught me fingering the cherry wood china cabinet that held the distinctive teapot and whispered if she ever caught me near it again, she'd break both my pinkie fingers. To this day, I'm convinced she would have done so.

  After that incident, I'd always regarded the teapot with a certain kind of awe I reserved for special things like a new baby, diamond necklace, or my grandmother's ricotta cheesecake fresh out of the oven. I'd thought it was magical then. Now, with all of the pain it had caused Grandma Rosa, I couldn't help but wonder if it was just plain evil.

  Gianna shook me by the arm. "Sal, what are we going to do?"

  At that moment, George entered the room. "Did we find something else to our liking, ladies? Or shall I direct you to the nearest rummage sale?"

  Ignoring his sarcasm, I pointed at the teapot. "That belongs to our aunt—um, our grandmother, I mean."

  His forehead creased in a giant wrinkle. "What are you implying?"

  I swallowed nervously. "Uh, someone stole this teapot and sold it to you. Do you remember who it was?"

  George shook his head and opened the curio cabinet to examine the pot more closely. "It's priced at twenty-two thousand dollars. Any transactions above five grand the owner has to approve himself."

  "You're not the owner?" Gianna asked, surprised.

  He smoothed his tie. "No. His name is Ben Silvers. He's not reachable at the moment but should be back later if you want to ask him some questions."

  I produced a Post-it note from my bag and wrote my name and cell phone number down. "Can you have Ben call me? I need to know who he bought this from."

  George took the piece of paper from my hand and examined it. "Are you sure your grandmother didn't decide to sell it on her own?"

  "Positive. Someone stole this."

  His lips compressed in a firm, thin line. "We always ask for identification. But if that's the case, maybe the person was in disguise. Can you prove your grandmother owns it?"

  "She has pictures." At least, I hope she did.

  George sniffed. "Well, we do have a video camera set up. Ben can find the receipt and take a look at footage from the day the transaction occurred. This may take him some time though."

  "Please ask him to call me as soon as possible," I said. "By tomorrow, or I'm phoning the police."

  His eyes widened with surprise. "Never a good thing to get the police involved. I'll make sure Ben calls you."

  * * *

  I pulled the car into my parents' driveway directly behind my mother's red Mustang and blew out a sigh. "I hate to tell Grandma. I mean, what if we can't get it back?"

  "They have to give it back," Gianna insisted. "It belongs to Aunt Luisa. Well, Grandma now. You know what I mean." She glanced sideways at me. "Lorenzo stole it, didn't he?"

  I nodded. "I think so."

  She cursed under her breath. "I knew it. That scumbag is capable of anything. God, I wish I had my license already and could be there to grill his ass in court."

  I glanced at my sister in alarm. "Holy cow. I've never heard you talk that way about anyone before."

  "Sorry, I can't help it. That man brings out the worst in me." Gianna growled as she opened the passenger door. "Let's see what's going on at the funny farm today."

  I opened the front door and stepped into the foyer with my sister. I could see my father, lying outstretched on the living room carpet, and my mother bending over him. Panicked, I rushed to his side. "Is he having an attack?"

  My mother snapped a tape measure
shut in her hand and giggled. "Hi, honey. No, your father wanted me to take his measurements for when his time to meet his maker comes. It's a hobby for him. You know, a guy thing."

  My father's obsession with death and funerals was going way beyond the boundaries of normalcy, at least in my opinion. My mother didn't seem to feel anything was wrong with it. I think she was actually pleased my father had found something to occupy his time since retirement.

  Gianna rolled her eyes at me. "Lucky you, it'll be your turn next week." She glanced at our mother. "Is Grandma in the kitchen?"

  "She made more cheesecake," my father bellowed, still lying on his back, eyes closed. "Make sure you save me some."

  Gianna steered me toward the kitchen. "He gets weirder and weirder."

  Grandma Rosa sat at the kitchen table with her drool-worthy cheesecake in the center, decorated with strawberries. She was thumbing her way through a shoe box of old black and white photos. I glanced around me appreciatively. The bright yellow kitchen had always soothed me as child. No matter how bad a day at school I might have had, things always improved in a hurry when I rushed home and Grandma was waiting in the kitchen to hear my tales of woe and feed me Italian butter cookies or cheesecake.

  She studied my face. "You did not tell me much on the phone, except to look for pictures. I think you know where the teapot is."

  I'd always marveled at her intuition. I told her about my visit to see Lorenzo and both the pawn and antique shops. She pressed her lips together firmly.

  "Ever since you called, I have been looking through my photos for one of the teapot," she said. "But I cannot seem to find any. They may have been destroyed in the fire many years ago. I am sure Luisa had some though."

  "Do you think Alana could find them?"

  Grandma Rosa placed the lid back on the shoebox. "Alana is leaving town tomorrow. There is nothing to keep her here any longer, and she has a sister down south she will go and live with. She phoned me earlier to say she was boxing up the last of Luisa's things, and then she would be gone. Can you phone her and see what time she is available to meet you?"