Murder and Food Porn: A Northwest Cozy Mystery (Northwest Cozy Mystery Series Book 8)

by Dianne Harman

  “Take yer’ time,” Al said. “What kind of news?”

  “It’s a guess, but I think they may have been thinking of moving in together, or even getting married. She’d mentioned selling her place, or remodeling and adding a room addition. Jace had been having issues with his ex, but Toni stood by him while he dealt with it. Her one concern about committing to someone was if they had baggage with someone else.”

  Al had covered the page of his notebook with doodles while Hillary was talking. He had scrawled Jace Carson’s ex in large letters with arrows pointing to it.

  Hillary glanced at the scribbles on the page and looked up at Al. “I suppose I should call Jace and let him know what’s happened. I don’t want him to find out from anyone else. Do you want me to ask him about his ex?”

  Al shook his head. “No need. Ima gonna’ get Rob on it now.” His chair made a scraping sound against the floor as he abruptly stood up from the table. “Cassie, Luke should be done with his mornin’ run and be on his way to the office. Ima gonna head straight down there.” He kissed the top of her head.

  Cassie smiled. “Go. Keep us informed. I’ll stay here with Hillary.”

  Al picked up his gun and strode out the door to where the sun was rising just over the patio, whistling as he headed for his car.

  CHAPTER 8

  Hector Delgado took a crescent wrench from his toolbox and twisted the shut-off valves located between the incoming water supply lines and the supply hoses for the sink faucet. Then he lifted the bucket he’d placed under the sink to catch the dripping water and poured the water that had collected inside it out the window. Snapping his tool box shut, he carried it back to the tiny storage room out in the hallway and left it there.

  He suspected the leaking faucet he’d warned Toni about was part of a bigger plumbing problem for the whole building, but that did not concern him. He was only biding his time in this crummy job until something better came along, such as a night watchman position at one of the big chain supermarkets on the island. Better pay, and he could sleep on the job.

  That’ll have to do, he thought, scratching his head. No water, no leak. No one else around here seems to care, so why should I?

  He lifted his backpack down from the hook in the storage room where it was hanging and grabbed his coat, confident his absence would not be missed if he knocked off early from his shift. He knew from his calls with her earlier that Toni was working from home, and her assistant Barrie hadn’t shown up at the office either. Angela, the receptionist, was too busy filing her nails and giggling on the phone with her boyfriend to notice what was going on. If Big Foot himself walked in, she wouldn’t bat an eye.

  The building was empty apart from the rooms used by the Food Porn Photography business and the other part-time staff Toni employed on an ad hoc basis when they were needed if a shoot was in progress. He’d come back that evening and lock up. Angela would be none the wiser. When the cat’s away the mice…

  He whistled on his way out through the back door, sauntered down the alley, and around the corner. From there it was a ten-minute walk to the apartment he shared with the man he considered to be his brother, Diego. The fact they didn’t share parentage was irrelevant to either one of them. Friends since childhood, they were astral twins, born on the same day and raised in the same Seattle district of Georgetown.

  They walked to school together, learned to drive at the same time, and even shared girlfriends as teenagers. When Hector decided to move to Bainbridge Island, Diego insisted on coming along with him.

  “For the adventure,” Diego had said.

  “It’s not like I’m going far,” Hector pointed out, but Diego’s mind was made up.

  Hector had a plan for the future, whereas Diego was a drifter with no plan other than to bounce along through life, one day at a time. Diego worked casual jobs here and there until he had some money, then he loafed around until his beer money was spent. When that happened, the same cycle would start all over again.

  “You’ve sold out to the American Dream,” Diego would mock Hector, who was saving for the down payment he’d need to make on a newly built condominium in an affordable development. “Who do you think you are, all clean-shaven and with the short haircut, huh? Forgotten your roots, have you?”

  “No, but I’m an American, just like you,” Hector had responded. “On the other hand, if you’d be happier as a street vendor staking out corners selling fruit drinks and snacks to tourists, why don’t you go live in Mexico and embrace your roots there? You can hang out with the shopkeepers standing in the doors of their establishments, beckoning shoppers inside to look at the shelves brimming with tacky merchandise.”

  Hector knew Diego wouldn’t go south of the border, even though he had family there. His friend was too lazy and too broke to make the trip.

  “You’re home early,” Diego called from the sofa when Hector opened the front door of their apartment and stepped straight into the living and kitchen area, which was one tiny room. “You forgot to take out the garbage this morning,” he added, with a laugh. “And you call yourself a janitor, huh?”

  Hector set his backpack on the floor. “What are you, my wife or something? Move over, dude,” he said, motioning for Diego to move his feet off the sofa. “Where am I supposed to sit?”

  “The floor,” Diego said, then laughed again before making room for Hector. “Did your boss let you leave early?” He clasped his hands together and beat his chest with them while screwing up his face. “Oh Toni, Toni, I love you, Toni.”

  Hector’s face clouded over. “Stop with the funny stuff, Diego. She’s not my boss. I work for the landlord, not her.”

  “Doesn’t matter. She’s still never going to go out with you, man. You’ve got to stop asking her. Hector Foolgado, that’s you. Find yourself a nice Lupe from around here and have yourself some fun for a change.”

  Hector shrugged. “Just because you only date Hispanic ladies doesn’t mean I have to.” He fake-punched Diego on the arm. “I’m a hot-blooded lover, but I like all women, not just our kind. Nothing wrong with that, is there?”

  “There is if you’re not getting any action, my friend. When’s the last time you…”

  Hector ended the conversation by abruptly getting up from the sofa. “Got a cold one? Now seems like a good time.” He walked over to the refrigerator and looked inside before turning back to Diego with a frown. “You drank all the beers? This is getting kind of old. I’m not your beer broker. Get off your butt and buy your own for a change.”

  “Geez, Hector. Chill, man. Some of the guys came by before lunch. We smoked a couple of joints and drank a few beers. You should try it, you know, try and relax for once. What’s the biggie?”

  Hector shook his head. “Get a life, bro.” His eyes scanned the room. “You don’t see it, do you? This place…” His voice drifted off as he looked around the apartment at the shabby sofa, the rug with a smattering of holes where it had been burned by falling cigarette ashes, the kitchen from another century. They were all reminders to Hector of how little he’d achieved and how far he still had to travel on his journey to success.

  “You think this is all there is,” Hector continued. “All you deserve. You’re over thirty with no ambition. Not me, man. No way.” He felt a rush of blood in his temples, and he balled up his fist, punching the kitchen countertop.

  Diego stood up. “You think you deserve more, but why? Because you’re better than me, is that it?” He raised his hand and shook a finger at Hector. “We’re the same, you and me, no different. Since when did you forget your heritage? Your mama would roll over in her grave if she knew you were chasing after that white chick.”

  “Don’t bring my mama into this,” Hector growled. His mother, a nurse, had been one of the founding members of the Seattle Association for Hispanic Families. Funded entirely by donations, one of their primary causes was supporting underprivileged Hispanic families affected by serious illnesses and paying for healthcare when the famil
y couldn’t afford life-saving treatment. Even though Rosita Delgado died poor, her legacy lived on through the Association, which was championed by some high profile Hispanic celebrities.

  Rosita’s achievements were one of the reasons Hector had moved away from Georgetown. Although it was never discussed, he sensed his father’s disappointment that he had yet to make anything of himself. Flunking out of high school without graduating wasn’t a good start. When Hector saw his father, which wasn’t often these days, he embellished the truth about his life to try and make his old man proud. The sadness in his father’s eyes showed that Hector Sr. didn’t believe him.

  Diego wasn’t letting it go. “Hit a raw nerve, did I? Let me spell it out for you, Hector, because you appear to be laboring under some sort of grand delusion. Aspirations are all well and good, but they won’t change the color of your skin. They won’t change your job prospects or where you’re going to live. So, why not accept that and save yourself the trouble?”

  “That’s not true,” Hector muttered. He’d read all the books on goal setting and visualization. If you can dream it, you can achieve it was one of his favorite daily affirmations.

  “Buddy, I hate to break it to you, but it is. You have no qualifications, and you’ll never earn enough to buy a condominium bigger than a shoebox that you’ll be paying for until you’re eighty. And Toni what’s her face? She will never, ever, consider you worth dating. Girls like her don’t date guys like us.”

  Guys like us. The words spun around inside Hector’s head as he stared at Diego. Looking at his roommate, he suddenly saw himself through Toni’s eyes. It didn’t matter that Hector’s hair was neatly cut while Diego’s curled up on his collar. Or that Hector was clean shaven where Diego had a two-day-old stubble. The two men were the same age, recently turned thirty. They had the same olive-toned, swarthy skin. But as far as Toni Adams was concerned, they weren’t good enough.

  Something inside of Hector snapped. All his hopes and dreams came crashing down around him, and he gripped the countertop while his world started spinning. Diego was right. Why didn’t I see it before?

  “Are you okay?” Diego asked with a frown and a look of concern on his face. “You look kind of weird. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll make us some coffee?”

  Hector staggered towards the door. “I have to get out of here.”

  Diego tried to block him, reaching out to hold him back, but Hector sidestepped him.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, bro,” Diego said, following Hector as he walked towards the door. “I was out of line. Forget what I said, you know I’m full of…”

  Diego’s words never registered with Hector, who could only hear the thudding of his heartbeat whooshing in his ears as he slammed the door shut behind him.

  His dignity was in tatters. Toni had never been anything but polite to his face, but now he was convinced she must have been laughing at him behind his back. He thought of his mother and was filled with an intense sense of pride in his background.

  Hector Foolgado no more. Toni Adams will pay for how she’s treated me, I’ll make sure of it, if it’s the last thing I do.

  CHAPTER 9

  The first time Sophia Waters met Toni Adams, she liked her a lot. When Toni arrived on the set of the television show Sophia hosted carrying a box of mini-donuts and two Starbucks’ caramel macchiatos, Sophia knew she’d found a kindred spirit.

  “Welcome to ‘Good Living in the Northwest’,” Sophia said with a smile, reaching out her hand, into which Toni placed one of the Starbucks’ cups. “You must be Toni?”

  Toni grinned. “And you must be Sophia. I mean, of course you are. I recognize you from your show. I watch it every week.” Her face turned crimson. “Who doesn’t? Um,” her voice faltered. “It’s not like me to be lost for words. I guess I’m a bit starstruck, that’s all. Do you like donuts?” She offered her the black and white box with a shaking hand.

  “Like them?” Sophia opened the box and peered inside. She looked back at Toni with wide eyes. “Are you kidding me? They’re my fatal weakness.”

  “Great,” Toni said, relaxing. “Because these are from Taboo, you know that hot new place in Pioneer Square? They sell out by noon daily, but a friend of mine knows a guy…” She beamed. “Hey, you’ve got to grab the perks of the job when you can, right?”

  Sophia nodded. “Right. First things first.” She turned around to her assistant director and beckoned him over. “How are we doing for time, Johnno? Can you spare me for ten minutes?”

  Johnno raised an eyebrow. “I might be able to.” He eyed the black and white box which Sophia was holding out to him and selected a chocolate concoction, then moved away with a wink.

  Ten minutes turned into thirty while Toni and Sophia bonded over glazed and frosted donuts laced with assorted gooey creme fillings. By the time Johnno came over to tell Sophia they really had to get back to shooting that week’s show, the two women had discovered they knew several people in common and shared a love for tequila and Nicholas Sparks movies, in addition to their mutual weakness for donuts.

  “Just pretend I’m not here,” Toni instructed, when Sophia started the cooking segment of that week’s show, and Toni had unpacked her equipment. “It’s just another camera in the studio.”

  Sophia looked up from where she was trying to mix a roux and wrinkled her nose. “Yes, but the show gets edited to within an inch of its life. Even if I mess this up, a perfect dish will come out of the oven for the final cut. We have chefs behind the scenes duplicating everything I attempt to make. You, on the other hand, get to see my real efforts in all their lumpy detail.”

  “Don’t worry,” Toni assured her. “I promise I’ll let you pick the final shots for the magazine profile.”

  True to her word, Toni had gotten Sophia involved in whittling down the final shots for the editorial piece in Celeb Cooking magazine. The issue turned out to be one of its biggest selling editions of the year, due to the cover image of Sophia with a dollop of runny chocolate sauce on her face and a half-eaten plate of lop-sided profiteroles on the table. With Toni’s persuasion, Sophia had agreed to go public with her culinary imperfections and had won herself a whole new legion of fans in the process.

  The women’s paths had crossed several times since that first meeting, always in a work capacity, and they’d continued to enjoy easy-going professional banter on each occasion. One time, at a party for the opening of a new Scandinavian style restaurant in Ballard, they’d downed tequila shots at the bar while the other guests sipped pink champagne on the terrace.

  That was why, when Sophia saw Toni on the arm of Jace Carson at the annual Northwest TV Awards, she did a double take, before freezing her out. On the night in question, Sophia was unable to dodge the attractive couple in time. She saw Toni wave at her and was headed in that direction before she realized her error. Only quick thinking and Sophia’s professional training as an actress had saved her from utter humiliation when Toni and her companion approached.

  “Toni, Jace,” Sophia said smoothly, her smile never reaching her eyes. “Toni, don’t you look ravishing, my darling!” She air kissed the space on either side of Toni’s cheeks. “Love the dress, by the way. How brave of you to wear something off-the-rack for an event like this. I’m sure I saw your dress in Neiman Marcus in Bellevue, but that style only comes in the large sizes, right? Anyway, I passed in favor of this Armani number. Giorgio’s been pleading with me to wear his stuff.” She glanced down at her own shimmering frock.

  Toni’s smile wavered, and Jace spoke up. “You two know each other?”

  “We’ve met,” Sophia said, through gritted teeth. She turned her head to the side, pretending to scan the assembled guests, before flashing a smile at a random woman in the crowd. “Oops, excuse me, I see someone I really must speak to. There’s an award with my name on it tonight, and I have to mingle.”

  Sophia bolted away without a backwards glance, her vision blurred by tears, unaware she’d left Toni and Jace standing o
pen-mouthed. Only when she’d reached the Ladies room and bolted herself into a stall, did she allow her emotions free rein.

  She left the event immediately after collecting her award, feigning a migraine, but not before texting her best friend, Cheree.

  Emergency summit at The Nest, be there at 10:00 p.m. :( Soph x

  Cheree’s reaction to the news that Jace, Sophia’s ex-boyfriend, had moved on with a new amour, was underwhelming. “Sophia, sweetie, it’s been six months since you two broke up,” Cheree said, sipping her Mojito cocktail through scarlet red lips. “You can’t expect Jace to live like a monk. You always knew something like this would happen, right?”

  “We were just taking a break from each other,” Sophia wailed into her tequila. “He loves me, I know it.” She scowled at her friend. “This is all your fault. You’re the one who made me play it cool and not call him. Remember that night after we went to Dottie’s Double Wide, and you put my phone in the freezer? Now he’s going out with that chubby photographer with the cute freckles, who stabbed me in the back and stole my man. So much for the girl code, huh?”

  Cheree sighed. “You thanked me the next morning for not letting you drink and dial. And as for this Toni woman, you told me about her before. I thought you liked her?”

  “Exactly,” Sophia hissed. “She played me. She’s a sneaky piece of work, all right. I wonder how she got her claws into Jace.” She slapped her forehead with the palm of her hand. “I get it now. She was probably hanging around the TV studios, using me as a cover.”