Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) (13 page)

J.J. glanced at the clock and shrieked. Where had Friday morning gone? She had fifteen minutes until meeting Evan to drive together to the Marcotti memorial service. She’d been so wrapped up in tracking the details for the proposal, she hadn’t left time for much more than a quick bathroom break. She grabbed her makeup bag and dashed down the hall to the room they shared with Tansy.

She met Evan at his office right on time. They drove in his car, a 2008 yellow VW Beetle, arriving at the Southwood Mortuary in twenty minutes. The parking lot was full when they arrived, and Evan parked on the verge, as close to the circular driveway as he could get. They squeezed into seats beside each other at the back of the chapel just as the service was about to start.

J.J. disliked the formalized process of grieving in public, mainly because she’d been forced to go to the funerals of two of her grandparents as an adolescent. It had totally unnerved
her, leading to several nights of bad dreams and unsettled sleep. At least, she thought that’s why she had an aversion to them. She looked around and noticed Detectives Hastings standing in the back right corner. Hastings looked at her but didn’t acknowledge her. She next spotted Devine sitting one row in front of her, at the far right. He glanced over and winked. Not very funereal, she thought. He did look good in black, though.

She listened half-attentively to the eulogy and many comments made by mainly business friends and some family. She sat a bit straighter when Candy Fleetwood walked up to the microphone. Oh boy. What would she say? As it turned out, very little, but just enough to make it appear okay that she’d attended. Things like how good a boss he had been and how he would be missed by everyone at the High Time Fitness Center. J.J. had to hand it to Candy, although part of her had been hoping for a bit of a cat fight.

J.J. tried to catch sight of the widow, but from the angle she was situated, she couldn’t see her face. She did notice the woman sat ramrod straight and wore a large brimmed black hat with a short black veil. Was that to hide tears or the lack of them? she wondered.

Just when J.J. thought she couldn’t sit another minute, the service ended. There were too many tall people standing in front of J.J. for her to get a good look at everyone as they left the chapel. She asked Evan to see if he could get a look at the widow’s face.

By the time they made it outdoors, cars were already driving away, with the widow’s black limo in the lead. J.J. and Evan looked at each other and shook their heads. They were just about back at his car when Devine caught up to them.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. Any thoughts?” he asked.

“Only that it was a very long service.” She mentioned
her question about the purpose of the veil, but Devine just shook his head.

“Maybe it’s an Italian custom?” he muttered.

“It’s very Jackie Kennedy.”

Devine’s right eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

“What? I’ve seen pictures.”

Evan added that it had been interesting but he had to get back to work. Once they were in the car, J.J. turned to look for Devine and noticed his car waiting in line to leave through the main gates.

“So, what did you think, Evan?”

“It was a big one, but I guess that’s not a surprise. I saw a lot of guys who’d bad-mouthed him at one point or other. I guess they wanted to confirm it was over. I’m not sure what I was expecting or why even I wanted to come. What about you?”

“Well, I was hoping to figure out who to add to the list of suspects.”

Evan chortled. “What did you think? They’d stand up and announce it, or maybe wear a scarlet
S
on their foreheads?”

“That was another story, I think. No, I was wondering if there’d be any confrontations.”

“I felt the widow would create one when the mistress got the mike.”

“Me, too. That was well played by Candy. Maybe the widow held it all in check, or maybe she’s not too devastated a widow.”

“What do you mean?” Evan asked, looking over his shoulder to back up and get around the car that had inserted itself in front of his.

“Well, how do we know? She might be the killer, after all.”

“What a jerk,” Evan said, pointing at the car parked in front of him. “Did he pick up his car and drop it in that space? Look at it. There’s no place to go. He’s lucky he didn’t
touch my bumper. What makes you think she could be the killer?” he added without missing a beat.

“Always look to the spouse as the first possible suspect. I’ve heard that on many a TV show.”

“Hmm. Since we weren’t among the close two hundred friends to be invited back to the widow’s digs for refreshments, what say we grab a coffee at Cups ’n’ Roses on the way back to the office?”

“I’m there.”

They found their favorite booth empty, and J.J. laid claim with her scarf, then lined up behind Evan.

“Go. Save,” he said, giving her a slight push. “My treat. The usual?”

She nodded and went back and slid into the booth, checking her iPhone for any messages. By the time Evan got back with their lattes she’d answered a text from Skye and sent one of her own.

After a few minutes, Beth joined them, placing a plate with two orange-cranberry scones in front of them. “My treat. You two haven’t had the most uplifting couple of hours, I’ll bet. I hate funerals. If you weren’t feeling bad about the newly departed before attending the send-off, you sure are afterward.”

“You know, Beth, that giving away food is not considered good business practice?” Evan said, reaching for a scone. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added.

Beth sniffed. “It’s my business, and I’ll go broke in the manner I choose.”

She smiled and then sipped her coffee from a cat-shaped mug. “So, was it worth going to the funeral?”

J.J. looked at Evan before answering. “Not really. There were no revelations, just a regular service with a lot of platitudes. It was actually a memorial service. He’d been cremated last week, but the widow wanted to wait for relatives
from Italy to make it here before having today’s service. The place was packed. You’d think everyone loved the guy.”

“But we know otherwise,” Evan jumped in. “I’ll bet half the folks there were feeling a tad gleeful on the inside while mourning on the outside.”

“You could be right,” Beth said. “Too bad you couldn’t get into the reception after. If there’s alcohol involved, there might be some dandy things going on.”

“I wonder if Candy went,” J.J. mused. She thought about it a bit longer, then asked Evan, “Why don’t we go?”

“Uh, no invitation, that’s why.”

“But there may not be one—on paper, I mean. And we might be able to just waltz in.”

Evan shook his head. “I know where you’re going with this, J.J., but I really don’t want any part of it. Besides, the police have their killer. As much as I respect Rocco Gates, the murder weapon belongs to him, so it looks like he did it, and that means both of us are off the hook. That should please you and also make you want to stay clear of anything to do with this case from now on.”

“I don’t believe Rocco is guilty. It just doesn’t feel right. And if everyone is going to think like you, then he needs all the help he can get.” She patted Evan’s hand to take the sting out of her words.

“You probably don’t have enough background in this sort of thing to go around believing in instinct, J.J.,” Beth added. “Just saying.”

“You may both be right, but I just feel I have to try at least. Ty Devine should be at the reception. He could get me in, if need be.”

“That’s probably the last thing he’d want to do,” Evan said, finishing off the rest of his latte.

J.J. finished hers, thinking through the various scenarios
while Evan and Beth watched her in silence. She could see it all now.

She’d sail through the front door and a large, muscular hand would latch on to her shoulder and growl something she couldn’t understand. Without being given a chance to simper or explain, she was being whisked back toward the front door when Ty Devine stepped forward to block it. “She’s with me,” he growled, ready to go up against the thug. Suddenly, the hand was gone, to be replaced by Devine’s as he guided her toward the food table. His hand remained in place as she bent forward to snag a mini quiche, which she dropped into the punch bowl.
Yikes.

She put her empty mug on the now-empty plate and took a deep breath. “I’m going. How about it, Evan?”

“Uh-uh. Sorry. I know my place and it’s in my office. I will drive you to your car, though.”

J.J. tried one last time to convince Evan. He shook his head, pulled open her car door, and kissed her on the cheek before hurrying inside to his office. J.J. sighed but felt even more determined than ever.

That determination slid a bit when she approached the gate to the Marcotti estate. Not as large or lavish as Portovino’s, but still impressive. Restaurant money or wife’s? She was stopped at the front door by a man in a black suit, black shirt, and white tie. “Your name?”

“J.J. Tanner. I’m here with Ty Devine, although I’m a little late. He should be on your list.” She tried to peer at the clipboard in his left hand, but he adjusted the angle and she had to be content looking around her. Yes, impressive was still a good word.

“He’s here. All right.” He stepped to the side and she walked in, trying to look more confident than she felt.

Now, should she let Devine know she was here and using
him as her cover, or should she try to avoid him? She spotted him at that moment in the far corner of the formal living room in deep conversation with a stunning redhead, possibly in her late forties. Devine seemed to be enjoying himself, not at all in work mode.

A loud laugh drew her attention to the dining room, where an older woman, decked out in a black silk pantsuit and loads of jewelry, held court. Although she’d changed her clothes after the service, J.J. recognized Gina Marcotti. She looked to be in her early sixties, trying for forty. Her hair was a dark mass of thick curls and waves, professionally styled. More Sophia Loren than Gina Lollobrigida, J.J. thought, remembering the photos she’d seen of the former Italian movie stars.

J.J. eased in her direction, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray. She didn’t want to join in the conversation, just eavesdrop. When she heard the woman referred to as Mrs. M, she knew this could be revealing, especially when the woman in question made a crude remark about Candy.

“I didn’t see your name on the guest list,” a voice whispered in her ear.

She jumped slightly, spilling some of her drink on her shoe and one black loafer belonging to her accuser. She started to apologize and looked at him.

“Devine. You scared me. Sorry about the spill but it’s your fault.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. It looked like you were very busy over there.”

Devine grinned. “You saw me with the stunner? Yes.”

J.J. sucked in her breath. She wanted to probe about the woman but felt that would give Devine the upper hand in whatever it was they were playing.

“Now, what are you doing here and how did you get in?” he asked.

“You know what I’m doing here. I’m trying to find an alternate suspect. As to how I got in”—she slipped her arm through his and smiled sweetly—“I’m here with you.”

He shook his head. “All right, then. In order to avoid any possible scene at this solemn event, let’s get something to eat.” He unhooked her hand and held on to it, pulling her over to the buffet tables that stretched from one end of the dining room to the other.

“I wonder who catered.”

“She does own a restaurant and catering service, you know. And that is staffed with chefs.”

“I just hadn’t thought it would be up and running. Not yet, anyway.”

“She reopened last night. I think she was worried about the staff being without work too long.”

“Is she keeping it?”

He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. Now, has this been enlightening? Have you added anyone to that list?”

“I have been wondering if the murder could be related to his co-owning the fitness center instead of his restaurant. What do you think?”

He stared at her, pondering. “Okay. I’ll tell you this much just to avoid you sticking your nose in any further and causing any more havoc. I’ve checked into the business, and it was running smoothly. No money problems. No fights with a business partner. This was his own venture out in the world without his wife’s backing. I don’t think he’d do anything to mess it up.”

“You know they charged Rocco yesterday morning?”

Devine nodded.

“He didn’t do it.”

“I know that’s what you believe.”

J.J. looked him in the eye for a few seconds before asking, “What do you think of the widow as suspect?”

“Why would she do it? You know she’s the money behind
the restaurant business. It’s all hers, comes from her family. And I don’t think jealousy is a motive, either, because he’s cheated on her before.”

“So why would she hire you this time? What was so different about his affair with Candy Fleetwood?”

Devine grabbed a plate and filled it with a variety of food before answering. J.J. was doing the same.

“She did hire you, didn’t she?” J.J. persisted

Devine just smiled. “This time he was spending money, lots of it, on his paramour.”

“But you just said Gina Marcotti comes from money. It couldn’t be enough to run her into the poorhouse.”

“No, but what do you think it would mean for her to learn that?”

“That her husband might be more serious this time? Maybe he was thinking of leaving her, but the worst that could do is hurt her pride. Right?”

“Would you kill if you found your husband was having an affair?”

“That would be my first instinct, but no, I’d try to come up with something more physically painful.”

Devine winced.

J.J. chose a small spinach quiche from a tray at the end of the table. She also took the time to look him over covertly. The black suit did look as fine on him as his usual casual wear of jeans and a pullover. Well, maybe he looked a bit better today. “Aren’t you supposed to be defending her? She’s your client, after all.”

That smile again. “I’m keeping an open mind. But if you were to ask, I’d say she didn’t do it.”

“You’re exasperating. You’ve just given her the ideal motive, and now you’re saying she’s innocent. I have to think about that, away from here.” She looked around the room. “Anyone else on that list?”

“Not in this group, and I don’t think anything’s going to happen to change that.”

J.J. looked around one more time. “You’re probably right. Well, I’m leaving in that case. I have work to do.” She shoved the final bite into her mouth and patted her lips with a napkin. “Thanks. It’s been a swell date.”

Back in her office, J.J. shelved any more thoughts about Gina Marcotti until later that night, when she could concentrate at home. She quickly read the note on her desk from Skye, explaining she’d taken off early and that Brittany wouldn’t be in. A glee club rehearsal had been called, and she would do her hours tomorrow morning. Fine with J.J. She’d be sure to leave the list of website updates right next to the computer.

J.J. read over her proposal to Olivia Barker one final time before e-mailing it. She then printed out a copy for filing and was placing it in the basket on top of the filing cabinet when the phone rang. She dove for it, thinking it might be Devine calling after thinking it over and deciding to share information with her after all. The caller ID showed Portovino Technologies.

She answered a bit hesitantly, wondering if they were querying the final invoice that had been sent last week. She identified herself and held her breath.

“Lorenzo Portovino here, Ms. Tanner. I have your invoice in front of me, and I notice the funghi is not included in the breakdown of the food for the birthday party. Why is that?”

“Well, Mr. Portovino, it was a late addition by the caterer and not included in our original quote.”

“So, who is paying for it?”

“Make It Happen is covering it, Mr. Portovino.”

“Nonsense. That’s not very good business on your part.”

J.J. was getting a bit tired of being chastised for poor
business sense. “Oh, but I think it is. As I said, it wasn’t in the original quote but it is our responsibility.”

“How much are we talking about?”

She told him and waited for another blast about being a poor businessperson.

“I’ll have a check in the mail to you today and it will include the cost of the funghi. It was a delicious addition, and although I also don’t quite approve of how it was added, I am happy to pay for it. And, I must say that I admire your work ethic. Portovino Technologies will be using your company again in the future.”

He hung up before she could thank him. If she’d been able to find her voice.

On that high note, she decided she’d done all she could for the day, and besides, the Culinary Capers gang was meeting for the big reveal of Evan’s cookbook for the next dinner.