Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) (14 page)

J.J. was the last to arrive at Cups ’n’ Roses for the Culinary Capers coffee klatch that evening. She sat in the empty chair next to Connor, who gave her a dazzling smile.

“Sorry I’m late. I got caught up in work.”

“In that case, do you need some sustenance to go with your espresso?” Beth asked as she placed a cup in front of J.J.

“Mm, what’s left at this time of day?”

Beth held up her index finger and disappeared into the back room. In less than a minute, she was back with a plate of biscotti and scones. “I was just about to package these up for home, but you’ve saved me from many extra calories.”

“What about me?” J.J. asked in mock despair.

“You do belong to the fitness club, as I recall,” Evan contributed.

J.J. made a face at him and grabbed a blueberry scone.

“Would you like that heated?” Beth asked.

J.J. took a bite and shook her head. After she swallowed, she managed to say, “Delicious.”

Alison sat staring at the biscotti, so J.J. pushed the plate over to her. “Go for it.”

“Thanks.” Alison took one and dunked it in her coffee before biting into it.

“Okay, as fun as it is watching you two eat, let’s get down to the basics.” Evan pulled a hardcover book out of a bag. “This,” he said with great drama and a sweeping gesture across the cover, “is my selection for next month’s dinner:
The Scandinavian Cookbook
by Trina Hahnemann.” He passed the book to Connor, who flipped through it.

By the time the book had made its way back to Evan, the others were enthusiastic.

“I thought I’d just continue on with the international theme that J.J. set this month. Of course, it doesn’t mean we all have to carry through with it. And I have an ulterior motive. Michael and I have been planning a trip to Sweden in the fall. He has loads of relatives over there, so I thought I’d get a jump on the cuisine. Although it just this moment struck me that maybe I’m doing it backward and should wait until after we return.” He held his hands up, looking a bit baffled.

“That’s all right, Evan. We might let you get away with doing another one at some point,” Alison said and giggled.

“That may come back to haunt you, Alison. Also, the book is divided by months, but we won’t stick to that. I just bought it today and haven’t yet figured out my main, but I promise to do so this weekend and I’ll e-mail it. Everyone good with that?”

They all nodded.

“We haven’t done a Scandinavian meal before,” Beth commented. “That should be an adventure.”

“And a challenge,” J.J. murmured.

“Don’t worry. You’re up to it,” Alison told her, finishing off
the biscotti. “After your coup last weekend, I think you can handle anything.”

“I meant that in a positive way, Alison. But thanks for the praise. You know I lap it up.”

J.J. felt herself flush with pride. Never in her many, many years of reading cookbooks had she thought she’d reach this pinnacle. For her, the cookbooks themselves had been a secret pleasure. She had to admit, though, that there was that hidden part of her that really longed to be a good cook. To enjoy the cooking experience. Maybe she’d finally arrived.

If so, it had been a hard trek trying to put behind her the disdain she’d heard in her ex-fiancé’s voice whenever she attempted something other than her usual fare. She knew it was his problem, not hers. But she’d been cowed by his superiority on many fronts over their three years together, and the fact that he truly was an excellent chef had made his judgment seem the truth. Thank goodness those days were gone and she’d gotten back to being her own self. Actually,
gone forward
was how she liked to think of it these days. She realized her mind had been wandering and that Evan was talking.

“I’m glad you’re all so agreeable. I must also admit it’s something I’ve been wanting to try for a while now, and wasn’t that one of the reasons we started up Culinary Capers? To spread our culinary wings and try new menus? What I particularly like about our group is this putting together of an entire themed meal. Whoever first proposed Culinary Capers is a genius.”

Alison threw her serviette at Evan as everyone started laughing. “You’re so modest, Evan. That’s why we stick it out, you know.”

Evan grinned and turned to Beth. “I’d like to order coffee all around, madam barista, on me.”

“Wow.” Beth looked around the table. “The same for everyone?”

When she returned from giving the order to her two staff persons, she asked, “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, our group is an occasion in itself. And also, I’m feeling relieved that neither myself nor J.J. are considered murder suspects any longer.” He reached out to touch J.J.’s hand. “I know, you feel bad about Rocco Gates, as do I, but that doesn’t mean we can’t also be pleased for ourselves. Right?”

J.J. nodded. “Although Detective Hastings hasn’t said in so many words that we’re off the hook. I don’t know if I’ll totally believe it until the real culprit goes to trial.”

“It sounds like you don’t mean Rocco,” Beth said. “He’s a nice guy and all, but from what I hear, and it’s village gossip mainly, they had a fierce rivalry going on and both were hot tempered.”

“Plus, the knife,” Evan added.

“What about it?” Beth asked.

“Apparently, a knife from Rocco’s kitchen was found, and it’s believed to be the murder weapon,” J.J. offered.

“Wow. That sounds like a done deal, then.”

“Is it?” J.J. asked. “What about your place here, Beth? Could someone get in the back there and steal something without your knowing it?”

Beth thought about it before answering. “It’s highly unlikely. Unless during deliveries. Maybe one of the guys could do it then, and I wouldn’t know it was missing until I went to use it. Or someone could sneak in while the back door was propped open.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” J.J. said, feeling pleased.

“Now wait a minute,” Alison jumped in. “Don’t go trying to track down deliveries or any such thing, J.J. I’m sure the detectives have already checked out that avenue.”

“But what if they haven’t? Alison, you have to find out.”

Alison’s face flushed. Her voice had an edge to it. “I do not. I told you—what I need to do is stay out of this.”

“But you’re a cop. You should want to help find the murderer.”

“Leave it, J.J.”

Connor put his arm around J.J.’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Alison. If you don’t want to do it, I’m sure J.J. wasn’t being accusatory, just overly enthusiastic. Right?” He squeezed J.J.’s shoulder.

J.J. realized she was staring at Alison with her mouth open in total surprise, partly because of Alison’s reaction but also because of her own. She scrambled to make amends.

“Yes, Connor’s right. I’m sorry, Alison. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I guess I’m getting too involved in this. I just hate to see an injustice taking place. I truly am sorry, Alison.”

Alison’s face relaxed and she moved her head from side to side, stretching her neck. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have jumped on you like that. I’m a bit stressed out these days, that’s all.”

Their coffees were delivered, and Alison took a long drink before continuing. “I think I owe you an explanation. You see, I got into trouble at work a few weeks ago. Nothing really major but enough to keep me under the sergeant’s watchful eye for the next while. If I’m seen to take a wrong step, or overstep, I’ll probably get a written reprimand in my file.”

“Wow, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. I was embarrassed and wanted to keep it a secret, but I can see it’s been affecting our relationships, so I want it out in the open. Maybe I can handle it better with the support of all of you.”

Beth hugged her. “Do you want to tell us what happened? You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know, but it might do me some good. You see, sometimes I get to thinking I just know everything there is to know about a subject, especially if it has to do with police protocol.”

“Well, you did ace your exams, after all.”

“More or less. But the part I sometimes forget is the number one rule about not calling out your higher-ups on a topic, especially in front of others. I, in my know-it-all way, told the lieutenant that something wasn’t considered probable cause for a forceful entry into a suspect’s home. I was right, but he was steamed. Lambasted me in front of my platoon and told the Sarge to keep an eye on me. Consider me dutifully chastised and watchful.” She smiled a little ruefully and looked from one to another.

“We’re here for you, Alison. And just for the record, I don’t think you’ve done a darn thing wrong,” Evan stated with a nod of his head.

“Thanks.”

“Well, now. Perhaps I should be the one to tell the detectives your theory, J.J.,” Beth said. “After all, as the owner of an establishment, I do have a different take on things.”

“That would be great, Beth. I’ll go with you, if you want.”

“We’ll see.”

“Have you come up with any other theories since we talked about it over dinner?” Connor asked.

J.J. shook her head. “Not really. Evan and I went to the memorial service today, but it turned out to be just that, with nothing happening that would point to anyone.” She finished her espresso and looked around at them, hesitating when her gaze fell on Alison. “I also went to the reception afterward.”

Alison groaned. “Did you get tossed out?”

“No, I didn’t. In fact, I suggested I was there with Ty Devine and got in no problem.”

“That guy. What’s the story there?” Beth asked.

J.J. chose to misunderstand her. She could feel Connor staring at her. “Well, I did get in and just about managed to talk to the widow, and I could hear some of the things she was saying about Candy Fleetwood. She did in fact know about her and there was a lot of animosity there.”

“Not surprising.” Beth continued probing. “Then what happened?”

“Devine spotted me and whisked me away from her. He says he doesn’t think she did it but he’s keeping an open mind.”

“Who is Ty Devine?” Connor asked.

“Oh, just a private eye.”

J.J. waved good-bye to the gang and realized she was still starving and also that she seemed to have gained her second wind. She glanced at her watch. Only eight thirty; there was still time to grab a light meal and some useful information at Bella Luna.

The same woman who had greeted J.J. last time stood at the tall podium-style desk just inside the front door. Lucy, if J.J. remembered correctly. She greeted J.J. with a warm smile and showed her to a table for two, tucked away from the crowd.

“I heard what had happened at the birthday party. I do hope you’ve forgiven us,” she said, setting the menu down on the table.

“Of course. It was something done by your boss. I know there’s nothing any of you could have done about it. And you have my condolences.”

“
Grazie
, Ms. Tanner. Something from the bar?”

“A glass of California Shiraz, please. Lucy, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions before you go?”

She looked a bit wary but nodded.

“Do you know of anyone who had it in for your boss? A member of the staff or even a customer?”

“A customer?” She gave a short laugh. “We get the odd one who’s unhappy but not angry enough to kill over an over-done pizza crust. Not that it happens often. Mr. Marcotti was very proud of the quality of the food served here, and he made sure everything that left the kitchen was cooked to perfection.”

“Did that bother the chef or anyone else in the kitchen? Was he particularly hard on any of them?”

“He was the boss. He was demanding but fair.”

Right.
“So you don’t think the head chef, for instance, might be driven to do something desperate?”

Lucy shifted her weight from one foot to the other, obviously tiring of standing there. “No. Not Kevin. He’s a very nice guy to work with.” She shook her head. “I can’t think of anyone.”

“Where are you from?”

Lucy hesitated a moment before answering. “I’m from Italy.”

“You have a very lovely accent.”

Lucy blushed. “I’ve been trying hard to lose it but cannot do.”

“Oh no. Stop trying,” J.J. said with a smile. “How long have you been here?”

“Three years now, so there’s really no excuse, but that’s nice of you to say. I’m sorry but now I must get back to work. I’ll have your wine sent over to you.”

J.J. watched Lucy take the few steps over to the bar to place the order and then look back over with a small smile before resuming her place at the door. A server brought her a small carafe of wine and a glass a couple of minutes later. J.J. took a few minutes before checking out the menu and
then spotted what she wanted right away. A roasted fennel and arugula salad with a citrus vinaigrette.

She’d decided to give a pass to the calorie-loaded desserts on the menu when she’d finished the salad, although the chocolate tartufo was probably to die for, and opted instead for an espresso. That led to a second one, and she was chasing it down with a glass of water, when Chef Kevin Lonsdale entered the dining area and started mingling with the diners. He seemed to have slipped into Marcotti’s role quite readily. By the time he reached J.J.’s table, she had her questions ready. Brief and to the point.

“And was the meal up to your expectations?” he asked, stopping at her side with a small bow.

“It was delicious. Of course, I’ve enjoyed everything I’ve eaten here. And also, the food I’ve had catered. You don’t remember me, do you?”

He looked puzzled. “I’m sorry, no.”

J.J. offered her hand. “J.J. Tanner from Make It Happen. It was the birthday party at the Portovino estate.”

“Of course. We met only briefly as I recall. Nice to see you again.” He started to walk away.

“Yes, the food was delicious.” She plowed on ahead, and he turned back to her. “It was certainly horrid how the evening ended, though. With Mr. Marcotti’s death. I guess the entire staff here was devastated.”

“Yes, we were very shocked by what happened.” He started to turn again.

“Does anyone here have any ideas about the murder?”

“The killer is in jail. What else is there to know?” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

“That’s just it. I think they got it wrong. Tell me, was Mr. Marcotti well liked here?”

“He was a respected chef and restaurateur.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Lonsdale leaned forward and put his right hand on the table. “Look, if you’re trying to pin the murder on someone from Bella Luna, you’re barking up the wrong tree. He was a hard taskmaster but that’s because he was a perfectionist. How else would the restaurant have reached its stature? And it was an honor for all of us to work for him. Now, if you’re really hung up on finding a different suspect, you might try Don Kelland, the councilor for this area.”

“Why?”

“Marcotti had made an application every year for the past two years for a permit for an outdoor dining space, and every year Kelland opposed it. They got into a shouting match just a few weeks ago when Kelland came by for lunch.”

“Why did Marcotti think it was Kelland’s fault?”

“Because he’s the go-to for that department. Nothing gets passed without his say-so, and not much gets his say-so without someone greasing his palm.”

“You have evidence of that?”

“Not me. Marcotti. I don’t know if he had evidence, but that’s what he believed. Kelland threatened to sue him for defamation and left. That’s all I know. Now, I need to get back to my kitchen.”

She watched him go, sorry that she hadn’t asked about the rumor that he’d been planning on leaving and taking some recipes with him. Of course, this hadn’t been the best venue for asking those questions. She would come back another time, maybe before the place was open to diners but when the staff would be in getting set up. Or maybe she’d find out where he lived and surprise him at home. But in the meantime, she was happy to add Don Kelland’s name to the suspect list. She wondered if the police knew this story. And if not, how best to tell them without actually having to go there and tell them.

She finished her water and then paid her bill. As she was leaving, she spotted Ty Devine’s Acura parked a few spaces
up the street. Funny, she hadn’t seen him in the restaurant. She glanced around, wondering where he was. Oh well, probably just as good she didn’t see him. At least not until she had figured out how to pump him for some more information.

She checked the street and stepped from between two cars to cross it when a van, headlights off, screeched from around the corner and headed straight for her. She froze for a second, then screamed when strong arms wrapped around her from behind and pulled her back. She fell across the trunk of a car, hitting her elbow on it.

She straightened herself and clutched her sore spot. “What just happened?”

Devine had run after the van but returned to her side, checking back over his shoulder. “Someone just tried to run you down in a white van. Don’t you watch where you’re going?”

She stood straighter and tried to catch her breath. “I did look. Both ways.”

“Did you hurt your elbow?” He pointed to it as she continued to massage away.

“Yes, but I’ll live. I guess I have you to thank that nothing worse happened.” She hugged herself.

“No problem. Are you sure you’re all right? You’re shaking.”

He looked like he was about to wrap his arms around her again, so she backed away. “I’m fine, really.”

She could see his smile even in the dim lighting. He looked over at Bella Luna. “I take it you just came from there. Good way to stir up trouble.”

“I didn’t stir up anything. I had a light, delicious meal and then a few words with the chef as he greeted the guests, Marcotti-style.”

“And no mention of the murder was made?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her.

“I may have asked a few questions.”

“And did he tell you anything useful? Or do you think
he’s the murderer based on the fact that he might have been trying to leave and take some recipes with him?”

J.J. gasped. “How do you know that?”

“The police have him in their sights. Or at least, they did.”

“Well, that answers that.”

“What?”

“About whether the police know or not.” She rubbed her elbow again. She was sure she’d have a bruise by morning. “We meet twice in one day. What are you doing here?”

“Mrs. Marcotti asked me drop by and take a look around.”

“Still looking for girlfriends?”

He shrugged. “Just looking. Now, I think I’d better get you home.”

“I’m fine. It’s not too long a walk.”

“Good, that means only a few blocks for the crazed motorist to try again.” He grabbed her good arm gently. “Please. Let me give you a lift.”

“Okay.”

They remained silent until he pulled up in front of her apartment. “I think you’re asking too many questions and this is starting to get dangerous.”

“Well then, doesn’t that prove my point about Rocco?”

“It could. We won’t talk about it now because you’re probably still shaken up. Go inside, have a strong drink, and go to bed.”

She opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. It sounded like good advice.

“Good night,” she said as she got out of the car. She leaned back in. “And thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”