Book Club Killer (7 page)

Chapter 15

An hour later, we were tucked into
a booth near the front of Russo’s Original, the best Italian restaurant in
town. Matt and Sam were arguing about a video game while Ben and I enjoyed a
glass of Chianti.

“I’m glad you agreed to this,” Ben
said. “I actually had an ulterior motive.”

I smiled. “Are you talking about
the shower?” I whispered.

“There was nothing mysterious about
that,” he said. “I’m talking about Brock Truscott.”

I shook my head and waited for the
rest of his explanation.

“He’s having dinner here tonight
with his girlfriend,” said Ben. “There was something odd in his voice on the
phone earlier. I just wanted a chance to maybe casually run into him and take a
temperature on our deal.”

“You think he’s getting cold feet?”

Ben shook his head. “I’m not really
sure. But there was hesitancy or something when we were talking. I just want to
see if I can make sure it isn’t related to him selling us Zephyr Industries.”

I’d heard the company name a
thousand times since Ben started negotiating to buy Truscott’s company, but it
struck a chord after the conversation Sonja and I had with the woman at Skinny
Skeleton Tattoos earlier in the day.

“What does Truscott drive?” I
asked.

Ben made a face. “What?”

“His car,” I said. “Is it an
Escalade? And does it have personalized plates?”

“Yeah, Zephyr’s fleet has company
plates with identifying numbers,” he answered. “And they’re all black SUVs, but
I’m not sure if it’s a Cadillac.”

I narrowed my eyes and leaned
closer. “Then it’s very possible that Rosemary wasn’t the killer’s target,” I
said. “They might’ve been after Tucker. And it may have been somebody that
works for his company.”

The lopsided smile on my husband’s
face vanished in a flash. He scowled, asked me to explain and I quickly filled
him in on what Sonja and I learned during our conversation at Skinny Skeleton.

“And she thought the license said
zebra?” he asked when I finished. “That’s a far cry from zephyr.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, I know. But
we’re not talking about a nuclear physicist, okay? She’s a scatterbrained woman
dressed in black leather and covered in tattoos.”

Ben chuckled. “Sounds like
somebody’s being a little judgmental.”

“Give me a break,” I said. “You
know what I mean. The last thing on earth that she’s thinking about is who
killed my friend. But she definitely saw the SUV that picked up Sonja’s brother
on Saturday. And it was a black Escalade with personalized plates that had one
word and a number. She thought it was zebra, but I’m guessing it was zephyr.”

“Based on what?”

“Women’s intuition,” I said,
lifting my wine glass. “Now, let’s focus on what we’re going to eat for dinner.
That sound okay?”

“It’s about time,” Matt droned.
“I’m starved!”

Sam groaned and clutched his
stomach. “Yeah, Mom. When are we gonna eat?”

Ben motioned for our server, a
roly-poly man with a pencil mustache. He zipped over, took our order and headed
for the kitchen.

“Can you hold on for another few
minutes?” I asked Sam.

He grumbled something and slouched
in his seat. Ben told him to sit up straight, a request that was met with
another flurry of mumbled discord.

“If you can’t behave, we can leave
right now,” my husband said.

Our son suddenly bolted upright and
flashed a wide grin. “I’ll be good,” he said. “I really want to eat here. The
food at home…” He paused, tipping his gaze at me. “Well, I’ll be good,” he
added. “And I’ll zip it.”

He pulled his Game Boy from
somewhere under the table and began tapping contentedly on the keys. Ben poked
my leg and chuckled. “That’s one way to achieve a nice, quiet dinner.”

I shook my head, and was just about
to say something when a tall man with a deep tan and broad shoulders suddenly
appeared at our table. A rail-thin woman with dark hair and a plunging neckline
that left nothing to the imagination clung to his arm with covetous fervor.

“Mr. Truscott!” my husband said,
scooting out of the booth and shaking the man’s hand. “What a nice surprise!”

I’d heard about Brock Truscott so
many times in the past few weeks that I wasn’t surprised he was a sleek,
burnished package accompanied by a woman who would’ve been right at home in the
pages of a Victoria’s Secret catalog. They both looked primped and polished;
expensive jewelry, trim figures and bleached teeth that glowed slightly as they
grinned down at me and the boys.

“This must be…” Truscott began,
clearly struggling to remember my name. “Ben’s wife and sons.” He reached for
my hand. It was warm and strong as he gave me a firm shake. “I’ve heard a lot
about you.”

“Likewise,” I said. “Ben’s told me
all about your company. It sounds like a very exciting time for everyone.”

Truscott nodded at the woman on his
arm. “This is Amanda Winslow,” he said. “My fiancé and the future mother of my
future children.”

The dark-haired woman looked at me
with a watery smile. “A pleasure,” she purred, making it obvious that meeting
me was anything but enjoyable.

“So?” Truscott said to my husband.
“We’ll see you at the office tomorrow at nine?”

Ben confirmed the appointment
before Truscott offered a few more rhetorical remarks about meeting our family.
Then he guided the slender waif toward a table near the bar.

“Well, that was pretty random,” Ben
said quietly.

I smiled and sipped my wine.

“What’s that mean?” asked Matt. “Is
that guy a creep or something?”

“No, buddy,” Ben said. “That guy
owns a company that we’re buying.”

Our son frowned. “People buy
companies?”

“Yep,” Ben answered. “It’s the same
as when you buy things at the store, only a whole lot more complicated.”

“Like death threats?” I whispered
in Ben’s ear.

“Exactly like that,” he agreed.

“What did you say?” Sam demanded.
“No secrets at the dinner table!”

“It wasn’t a secret,” I told him.
“It was nothing.”

Sam launched into his trademark
pout. Then he went back to his video game and ignored us until the server
returned with our appetizers.

“Come on, buddy,” Ben said, giving
Sam’s elbow a gentle tap. “Let’s put that away now.”

“Only if you tell me what you guys
were whispering about,” Sam said.

“Hey, what happened to you telling
us that you were going to be good?” I asked.

His eyes flickered a few times.
“Oh, yeah!” The Game Boy disappeared and he smiled like an angel. “I forgot.”

“Well, lucky for you, mister,” I
said. “I didn’t forget. Now, let’s all have a nice family dinner and we can go
back to pouting later, okay?”

Sam smiled. Matt shrugged and
rolled his eyes. And Ben pressed his leg against mine under the table. For the
next hour and a half, as we indulged in delicious Italian fare and decadent
desserts, all was right with the world. It was a welcome respite from the chaos
of the past two days, and a chance to catch my breath surrounded by the people
that I loved most.

While we enjoyed dinner, I kept one
eye on Brock Truscott and his fiancé huddled at their table. I wondered how the
black Escalade with his company’s personalized plates was related to Rosemary’s
death. I also wondered if the chilly woman with the dark hair was the reason
someone had tried to kill Truscott or if it was connected to the sale of his
multi-million dollar business.

“Hey!” Ben said as I contemplated
the situation and thought of questions to ask Detective Ford the next morning.
“Would you quit staring at those two?”

I glanced over and blushed.
“Sorry,” I said. “I just can’t stop admiring her complexion.”

“Uh-huh, sure.” Ben leaned closer
and pressed his mouth to my ear. “I know that look, babe.”

“No secrets!” Sam yelped. “We’re
supposed to be one big, happy family!”

I reached over and held up my hand.
“Gimme five up top, handsome.” We touched palms and he giggled. “There’s no
doubt that we’re exactly that—a big, happy family!”

The server came by and asked if we
needed anything else. When Ben and I shook our heads, he put the check on the
table.

“Okay,” Ben said after the man
left. “Let’s pay our big, happy tab and head for home. I don’t know about the
rest of you, but I need to loosen my belt and sprawl out on the floor for a
couple of hours.”

“Me, too!” Sam cheered. “And then
we can have ice cream!”

As we waited for the server to
return with the check, I noticed Brock Truscott’s fiancé leave their table and
head for the ladies’ room. I quickly excused myself and followed her. It was an
unconventional move. And I didn’t know what I might learn from her. But I was
determined to do everything possible to help solve Rosemary’s murder.

When I slipped through the door
into the restroom, Amanda was leaning toward the mirror above the sinks. She
was applying lip gloss with short, precise strokes and didn’t even glance to
see who had joined her in the silent space.

“Amanda?” I said after an awkward
moment.

She twirled her eyes at my reflection
in the mirror. “Oh, hi. You’re…” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, what was your
name again?”

“I’m Jana,” I said. “Ben’s wife?”

She finished with her lips and
turned to face me. “Well, I know that much,” she giggled. “I’m just not very
good with names. Especially the first time I meet somebody.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I can
be the same way.”

“Are you enjoying dinner?” she
asked.

“Oh, very much. This is one of our
favorites in town.”

“Brock likes it,” she said with a
resigned sigh. “But I don’t much care for pasta.”

“Then it’s good of you to indulge
him once in a while,” I joked. “Especially
before
the wedding ceremony!”

She scowled at my remark. “Who
knows if there will even be one!” she hissed, her faint grin suddenly changing
into a frown that crinkled her forehead. “Brock’s witch of a wife is causing so
much trouble.”

“That’s horrible,” I said. “What’s
she doing? I mean, if it’s not too personal to ask.”

Amanda shook her head. “I shouldn’t
even be talking about this with you. I mean, I just met you, and now you’ll
think…” She eyes filled with tears and she covered them with one hand. “Oh,
jeez! I’m not usually this…” I plucked a tissue from the dispenser by the sinks
and pressed it into her other hand. “Thank you,” she said softly. “It’s just been
a
really
stressful time, you know?”

“Do I know?” I said, trying to
lighten the mood. “Some days, I think stress is my middle name! Ben and I have
two boys under the age of twelve.”

Amanda blotted her eyes and blinked
away the last few tears. “I can’t even imagine,” she said. “I can barely take
care of myself. Brock wants to have kids, but the difference in our ages…” She
waved one hand in the air. “Oh, there I go again,” she continued. “Talking
about stuff that you don’t need to hear.”

Another woman came through the
door. She smiled nonchalantly and made her way to one of the stalls.

“I should get back to the table,”
Amanda said. “Brock gets anxious if I’m gone too long.”

I quickly washed my hands to
justify my trip to the ladies’ room. Then I followed her into the hallway
leading back to the dining room.

“Do you mind if I ask a quick
question?” I said.

Amanda shrugged. “What’s that?”

“Do you know if Brock’s wife drives
a black SUV?”

She scoffed. “That’s one of the ten
zillion things she’s fighting over,” Amanda said. “The crazy witch refuses to
give up her company car. She’s still got the Escalade that Brock leased for her
before she cheated on him with her personal trainer.”

“Oh, my goodness,” I said. “I had
no idea what had happened.”

“Well, not too many people do,”
Amanda explained. “But if she doesn’t see the light, this whole thing is going
to end up in court. Then everybody in town will know every nasty little detail
about her sleazy ways.”

“I sure hope that doesn’t happen,”
I said, touching her arm lightly. “For your sake. And for Brock’s.”

She smiled. “That’s sweet of you to
say, Jana. Maybe we can have lunch sometime after the dust settles.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “My
husband told me that Brock’s staying on as a consultant for a year after he
sells Zephyr Industries. Maybe the four of us could go to dinner, too.”

“That would be wonderful.” She
glanced over at Brock. He was tapping his watch and grinning widely. “Oh,
shoot,” she gushed. “I better run. It was nice talking to you. And I’m sorry
about all that dirty laundry that I spilled.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” I
said. “I just hope everything works out okay for you.”

Her smile softened. “Yeah, so do I.
Brock’s ex has been stalking me and leaving all kinds of rude messages on my
phone. He doesn’t know a thing about it, but it’s freaking me out like you
wouldn’t believe.”

The look in her eyes told me she
was truly terrified by the situation. As she turned to walk back to their
table, I thought of two more questions.

“Do you think his wife could be
violent?” I said. “Or do you think she knows someone who could be?”

Amanda laughed. “She was married to
an ex-con before she met Brock. From what I’ve heard, she and her ex-husband
are still pretty close. She’s also aware now that Brock plans to change his
will once he and I get married. Instead of millions of dollars and two plush
houses, she’ll end up with a big, fat zero!”

After another remark about having
lunch, she walked toward the far side of the restaurant. I hurried back to the
booth where Ben and the boys were anxiously waiting.

“Mom!” Sam whined. “You were gone
for an hour!”