Ben absently rubbed his chin. He should be hearing all this directly from Reilly. But since she wasn’t taking his calls, Efi was a good secondary source. She appeared to be the only one without an agenda. Well, one that mattered to anyone over the age of eighteen anyway.
He’d read some of what Reilly’s niece was telling him in the papers. But he hadn’t been able to connect the dots until the teenager had climbed into his car.
“Then there’s the whole fat thing.”
Ben blinked at her. “What?”
Efi fixed her dark eyes on him. “You know. The fat thing. All those fat pictures the papers keep running of her.” She shook her head. “I’d die if anyone showed pictures of me looking like that.”
“Why?”
She blinked, appearing to try to follow the reason for his question. “Why? Because Aunt Reilly used to be fat, that’s why. And now she’s not.”
“And that’s important because…”
She sighed gustily. “What are you? Dense? That’s important because being fat in L.A. is social suicide.”
“Oh? I happen to think your aunt was pretty even with a few extra pounds.”
Efi stared at him for the longest time. He couldn’t really make out her expression in the dark, but he could see that she was trying to pigeonhole him. “Are you serious?” she finally asked.
“As a priest on Sunday.”
“God, that’s serious.”
He nodded. “I love your aunt, no matter what she looked or looks like.”
Efi tilted her head. “My dad says the same thing about my mom.”
“Smart man, your dad.” He looked toward the house across the street and three doors up. “Speaking of your dad, I think I’d better be going.”
Efi reached for the door handle then hesitated. “Actually, you’re in luck. Aunt Reilly’s friend’s car just pulled up into the driveway.”
Ben looked in that direction. He could make out three figures in the four-door sedan. And his throat tightened when he saw Reilly climb out of the back then take several shopping bags out of the trunk.
Then it struck him. Approaching her now wouldn’t fix anything. Continuing to call her wouldn’t tear down the barrier that loomed between them. Instead, he had to formulate a plan.
He absently rubbed his chin. “Even more reason to leave,” he said quietly.
Efi shook her head. “You adults don’t make any sense, you know?”
Ben chuckled then lightly touched her arm. “Don’t tell your aunt you saw me, okay?”
“Why?”
“Because she’ll wonder why I didn’t say hello if you do.”
“That’s something I’m wondering.” She climbed from the car and closed the door.
Ben watched her go then looked at his watch. He’d give the teenager five minutes before she burst with the news that she had. He started his car and backed up into a neighbor’s drive before driving off in the opposite direction. It appeared he had a few things to do before seeing Reilly again. And if he was certain of one thing, it was that he would be seeing Reilly…
THREE DAYS LATER Reilly was cooking up a storm in her sister’s kitchen. While her wardrobe hadn’t improved much—it would take her time to replace everything and right now she was concentrating on dressier apparel—her demeanor had improved immensely. The insurance company had had a mysterious change of heart and was cooperating with her even if the police weren’t and she was going to get her first emergency operating check on Monday. She’d been so relieved to hear the news she’d immediately started shopping for new locales and an apartment. She’d also taken over Debbie’s kitchen.
Yes, she was definitely making a comeback.
Well, except when it came to Ben Kane.
She wildly stirred the thickening sauce on the stove to keep it from curdling. Since Efi had told her she’d seen him two nights ago, and that he’d left without saying hello, her mind had been working overtime trying to figure out what had happened.
“He realized you weren’t for him, you one-time fat cow,” she told herself.
She grimaced and removed the pan from the burner. While she suspected part of that might be the case, she also had to wonder about Ben’s strange comments to Efi. She’d told her that he’d said he didn’t care if she’d been fat or was fat, that he loved her just the way she was.
“That’s why he took off like a bat out of hell once he caught a glimpse of me again,” she muttered under her breath, chasing away any joy that had warmed her heart at the original thought.
She shook her head and slowly stirred egg yolks into the sauce along with butter then returned the mixture to the burner.
Her sister came in the back door carrying three grocery bags chock-full of the ingredients Reilly had sent her out to get. “It’s a good thing I don’t like to cook or I’d never fit all the groceries in the kitchen,” Debbie said, awkwardly unloading the bags onto the table and nearly tripping over Cinder, who, it appeared, was now finally named. Efi had not only taken to the name, Reilly suspected she was going to be minus one cat when she moved into a new place.
“It’s not that you don’t like to cook—it’s that you can’t cook,” Reilly corrected her.
Debbie waved her hand. “Same difference. I think after Thanksgiving everyone’s glad to have you back, Rei.” She moved and nearly tripped over Cinder again. “I hate that cat.”
“You don’t hate the cat.”
Thanksgiving at her parents’ house had always been a trial in good manners. Before she’d taken over the cooking duties years ago, her mother had always produced an overcooked and dried-out turkey, over salted boxed stuffing, and inedible secondary plates that left everyone grabbing for the bread and mayonnaise jar. The holiday two days before would have been a flashback to Thanksgiving hell if Reilly hadn’t stepped in, sliced the turkey, whipped up two kinds of gravy to smother the meat with, made an extra-large helping of creamy garlic mashed potatoes and ladled melted cheddar cheese all over the overcooked broccoli. She’d smiled when the bread had largely gone untouched, although some used it to mop up the gravy. Every last bit of the food had disappeared, and everyone had been up for the two pumpkin pies she’d baked from scratch that morning right here in her sister’s kitchen.
“What is this for?” Debbie asked, holding up a bar of Hershey’s chocolate with almonds.
Reilly took it from her. “That’s for me to know and you to guess about.”
Debbie put her hands on her hips. “If I’m the one who’s footing the bill until you get some money coming in, I have the right to know.”
“So I’ll go to the bank later, buy a money order—you do know I still have bank accounts, right?—and reimburse you.” She waved at her with a wooden spoon. “Just don’t bother the cook when she’s cooking. Did you get a newspaper?”
No answer.
Reilly turned to watch her sister, who was pretending she didn’t hear Reilly, unpack her bags.
“Hello?” she said, coming to stand next to her. She looked inside the bags, spotted the paper, then fought her sister for it.
Debbie sighed. “You’re not going to like what you see in there.”
Reilly made a face. “What could they possibly run that they haven’t already?”
Unfortunately she found out. Right there, in vivid color and larger than life, was a picture of Ben with his companion du jour Heidi Klutzenhoffer.
“Oh, God.” She pulled out a chair and plopped down in it.
Sure, Ben loved her just the way she was. That explained why he’d run right back into the arms of his model girlfriend.
She resisted the urge to knock her head against the kitchen table. She wondered if he made Heidi wear the granny panties then threw her into his hot tub.
“I warned you.”
“Yeah, well, not strongly enough.”
They heard a knock on the front door, then Mallory was striding into the kitchen looking like a woman on a mission. Even her T-shirt looked up to any task. Ge
t Out of My Way or Risk Death, it read.
“You’ll never guess what I found out?” she asked.
“That Ben’s dating Heidi again?” Reilly offered.
Mallory blinked at her. “What?”
“Nothing.”
Debbie was at the stove. “Should I do something here?”
“Let it all burn.”
Mallory and Debbie exchanged glances. Reilly sighed then pushed from the chair. Within twenty seconds she had switched all the burners off and covered the pans sitting there.
Mallory was talking to her sister. “Do you have a computer?”
Debbie nodded. “Yes. Upstairs in Efi’s room. Although I don’t know when it’s been touched lately, except to be dusted.”
Mallory led the way out of the room. “As long as it has Internet access, I don’t care how long it’s been dormant.”
Reilly thought about not following the energetic twosome. Except the only place she really wanted to go in that moment was Efi’s bedroom. Specifically so she could climb back between the sheets of the guest bed and disappear for another week or so. Or until the image of Heidi Klutzenhoffer holding on to Ben’s arm and looking like she belonged there went away. Which might be never.
Mallory had already booted up the computer and was doing a search on the Web by the time Reilly dragged herself to stand in front of the open bedroom door.
“You see,” Mall was saying, “there’s one open question regarding all this fire stuff.”
Debbie was nodding. “Namely, who started it.”
Reilly would have waved her arms if she could have moved. “Hello? Isn’t anyone concerned that my heart is breaking?”
“No,” Mallory and Debbie said in unison.
“Great.” Reilly crossed over to Efi’s bed and sank down on it. The position gave her a clear view of the computer screen.
“Anyway, remember how I told you, Rei, that that guy Johnnie Thunder gives me the creeps? Yes, well, turns out there was a very good reason.”
She clicked on a link from the search engine then held out her hand like one of the display models on The Price Is Right.
Reilly squinted at the screen. “What?” All she saw was a Web page with a black background that was taking forever to load and the words Johnnie Thunder flashing across it. Cinder jumped into her lap and she absently patted him.
“Get that cat off the bed,” Debbie said.
“He’s not on the bed—he’s on my lap.”
“Same difference.”
Reilly ignored her, watching as graphics on the Web page loaded.
Mallory sighed. “This thing is ancient. You need an update.”
“No, I don’t. No one uses it.”
“Well, it’s no wonder if you have to wait so long for a Web page to download.”
Reilly shared an exasperated glance with Cinder then rolled her eyes, her heart feeling like it had doubled in weight since seeing the picture of Ben with Heidi. It beat against her ribs so hard she half expected to hear bones begin to crack. And, damn it, it was getting awfully hard not to cry. Especially since Cinder seemed to catch wind of her shaky emotional state and rubbed his head against her jaw, his purring seeming to say, “It’s going to be all right, Reilly.”
“No, it’s not,” Reilly whispered.
Mallory and Debbie looked at her.
“Did you say something?” Mall asked.
Reilly shook her head and blinked really hard. “No.”
Mallory turned toward Reilly’s sister. “Is Ben really back with Heidi?”
Debbie slapped the newspaper, folded back to the picture, across Mall’s stomach.
Mallory held it in front of her. “Slimy bastard. I knew it.”
“Shut up,” Reilly said evenly. “You even begin to breathe the words ‘I told you so’ and I hit you over the head with Efi’s softball bat.”
Debbie frowned. “Efi doesn’t have a softball bat.”
“She does now, because I bought her one. And, by the way, she’s joining a team next spring.”
Mallory tapped the screen. “There! Can you make that out?”
Reilly leaned forward, nearly smushing Cinder as she squinted at the Web page. Her eyes slowly began to widen. “Is that Sugar ’n’ Spice?”
As part of a pictorial montage, the front of the former shop was prominently displayed—along with a picture of Reilly smiling in front of it.
“How did Johnnie get that picture? I never posed for him. I never posed for anyone.”
“You didn’t have to,” Mallory said, clicking on another link. “The guy was a walking camera. Wait, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
The pages she downloaded from there, named “Johnnie’s Obsession,” made Reilly’s skin crawl. There she was, spattered all over his Web site…along with a few shots of Ben with a red target drawn over him. If that wasn’t bad enough, poems accompanied each page, and in one Johnnie spoke of “Sugar ’n’ Spice might be very nice, but my soul mate won’t look at me twice until I take the store from her life.”
“Jesus,” Debbie said, piling Reilly’s thoughts into one word.
“Wait, there’s more,” Mall said.
Reilly held up a hand. “I don’t think I can handle more.”
But Mallory had already clicked on another page and up popped dozens of her fat pictures.
“How did he get those?” Reilly whispered.
Mallory hit a key and the screen went blank. “It’s my guess that Johnnie was making himself at home at your apartment when you weren’t there.”
Which was pretty much a majority of the time because she’d been down in the shop so much.
Mallory swiveled the chair she was sitting in around and held out her cell phone. Reilly took it and immediately dialed the number for the arson investigator in charge of her case. She was put on hold.
Mallory crossed her arms over her T-shirt. “Who’d have thought that Reilly would have her own personal stalker?”
Reilly ignored her and talked her way through the events. “I can’t believe this is happening. Johnnie seemed…so harmless. I mean, sure, he asked me out, but I didn’t think anything of it. And I certainly didn’t have any idea that he’d do…something like that.”
“It’s the harmless ones you have to watch out for,” Mallory said.
Events and causes started to match up in Reilly’s head. “All the problems Ben had at the restaurant…his chef getting mugged…the weird sounds I heard at the apartment. Johnnie showing up at the drop of a hat.” She shuddered straight down to her bones. “But why switch his attentions from Ben to me?”
Debbie had remained pretty much silent until that point. “Because what he was doing to Ben wasn’t scaring him off the way it should, maybe?”
“Sending the fat pictures to the press…framing me for the fire.” Reilly closed her eyes, still waiting for the investigator to come on line. “When I think of all the things he could have been doing over the past six months….” Her gaze flew to Mallory. “What if he erases the site?”
Mallory held up a CD. “Already ahead of you there.”
Debbie took a cocky stance. “Screw the police. I say we go see to this guy ourselves.”
Reilly couldn’t believe her sister was saying what she was. Thankfully she was saved from answering when the investigator finally came on the line and she told him everything they had just discovered.
Johnnie Thunder had failed to make himself a part of her life, so he’d set out to destroy it instead.
17
THE FOLLOWING Monday morning, Reilly sat with Layla and Mallory at a coffee shop/bookstore central to all four of them. The L.A. area’s four major newspapers and a couple of minor ones were divided among them, but they were waiting for Jack before they would begin to scour the papers for ongoing news of Johnnie Thunder’s arrest.
Mallory sipped her coffee and toyed with the sweet roll she’d bought from the chain franchise. She made a face. “These guys ain’t got nothing on Sugar ’n’ Spi
ce.” She brushed her hands together to rid them of crumbs. She’d hardly touched the sweet when sometimes it seemed she lived only on sweets. “When are you going to reopen the doors again, anyway? I don’t know if I can stand it if you go too long.”
Reilly smiled from ear to ear and produced a bag of her own sticky buns. “Just make sure you save a couple for Jack.”
“No way!” Mallory said, today’s T-shirt saying You Snooze, You Lose.
“You didn’t answer her question,” Layla pointed out.
“No, I didn’t, did I?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I won’t know for sure until later today, but I think I found a new location.”
Layla sat up, her mouth full of sticky bun. “Really? That’s great!”
“I’ll only be renting in the beginning, but the owner says he might be interested in selling down the line. And if he does, then my rent money can go toward the final sale.”
“Sounds fishy to me,” Mallory said.
Reilly made a face. “That’s because everything sounds fishy to you.”
“Get him to agree to a land contract. That way you’re both covered.”
“I’m on top of it, Mall.” She looked down at the newspapers before her. It had been two days since they’d figured out that Johnnie Thunder was behind not only the torching of Sugar ’n’ Spice, but the troubles that Ben had encountered, as well. Johnnie, a thirtysomething only child of an older Hollywood couple, who lived off his trust fund, had been arrested and the district attorney’s office had promised to go all the way with attempted murder charges. While there were some pretty strong stalking laws in the books, Johnnie had crossed the line into breaking the law. Efi’s injuries and Johnnie’s having reported seeing “Reilly” in the apartment when it caught on fire were pretty condemning.
At this point, though, Reilly was happy that the press had shifted their attention from her and her fat pictures to Johnnie.
“I’ve got to look,” she said, unable to wait another minute for Jack.
The instant the words were out of her mouth, all three of them attacked their papers, scanning the front pages, then opening them to the second pages and the local news sections, then finally they moved on to the entertainment section.
Flavor Of The Month (Kiss & Tell Book 2) Page 17