Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) (15 page)

J.J. had forgotten that Brittany would be at the office the next morning, and considering the night she’d had, the unlocked door set her nerves tingling. She gingerly pushed the door open and breathed a deep sigh of relief at the sight of Brittany’s back standing at the buffet-cum–file cabinet. Britanny spun around when J.J. closed the door.

“Oh, you scared me,” Brittany said. She leaned back, closing the drawer at the same time, and held up her smartphone. “Did you know you can use the camera function on your phone as a mirror? Just pretend you’re taking a selfie.”

She flashed a smile and went over to the spare computer set up on a credenza at the end of the room next to the closet. “I’m just about finished everything, so won’t be in your hair if you’re concentrating on anything special.”

“No, that’s okay. I’m sorry if I startled you. I hadn’t planned to come in today, but I forgot my briefcase and I
thought I’d just check my e-mail while I’m at it. I won’t be long.”
Why am I making excuses to her?

“Sure,” Brittany said with a giggle.

They sat working away at their own computers for about half an hour. J.J. kept feeling she should be chatty, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say.
I must really be in a funk about last night. Come on, now.

“How was the rehearsal yesterday?” J.J. finally thought of asking.

“Rehearsal? Oh, yeah, the glee club. Good.” She nodded her head. “Yup, definitely good. We’re getting ready for our spring concert in mid-May, you know.” Brittany looked back at the screen and began typing again.

J.J. took it as a hint to get on with her own task. She was sort of hoping Olivia Barker might have already read the e-mail and replied. No such luck. She’d just logged out of her computer when the door opened and Ty Devine walked in.

J.J. looked at him in surprise. Brittany stood abruptly and practically danced over to him, J.J. noticed.

“Can I help you with anything?” Brittany sang out.

Devine smiled then looked over at J.J. “I’m here to kidnap your boss.”

Brittany eyed J.J., then turned back to Devine. “You don’t really mean that.”

“Not in the criminal sense,” Devine answered with a chuckle.

He walked over to J.J. and leaned toward her, both hands on the desk.

“We have some talking to do.”

J.J. wondered what was up, then decided it might be better not to know. Or at least, not have it discussed in front of Brittany. She shrugged, then grabbed her purse and jacket before standing.

“Just lock up when you’re finished, please, Brittany,” she said as she followed Devine out the door. She realized as they hit the street that she’d forgotten her briefcase again.
Oh, well.

When they were out on the street, she asked Devine, “What are you really doing?”

He held his car door open for her. “We’re going for a little ride, and then we’ll have a long talk and try to figure out just what you know about the murder that almost got you killed last night.”

“Do you really believe that’s what happened? It could have been a drunk driver or someone talking on their cell or . . .”

Devine turned toward her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Seriously? That van had no headlights and made a beeline straight for you. You’re living in a fantasy world if you think it wasn’t an attempt, or at the very least, a warning.”

J.J. tried to suppress the shiver that ran through her body. Devine must have felt it, because he started to pull her toward him but instead squeezed her shoulders before ushering her into his car.

“How did you know I’d be at the office?”

“I started with your apartment. The office was next. I know I’m not the only one who works on weekends. After that? I may have given up.” He grinned.

They rode in silence until he turned into the parking lot for Laurel Beach off Lakeshore Drive. She looked at him in surprise.

He shrugged. “I’d heard you liked to come here and walk along the beach. I thought it might relax you enough to jog loose some information.”

“You’d heard. When was this? Are you still checking up on me?”

He sighed. “No, I’m not. Now, do you want to walk?”

She looked at the water. Lake Champlain was so massive at this point, she could easily imagine she was at the seashore
with nothing between her and Europe. Well, maybe it would technically be Asia. Or Hawaii, maybe. That’s why it was her favorite spot, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to share it or that information.
Oh, well.

“Let’s walk,” she agreed.

Pleased it was warm enough to walk along the white sand and feel the grains caressing her feet, she pulled off her sneakers and socks. She was glad she’d worn jeans to the office. She could have done with a fleece top, though. Her lightweight Zenergy jacket from Chico’s was no match for the wind.

She was surprised to see Devine do the same. They tucked their shoes beside a large log with an overhang making it look very similar to an alligator. After walking the length of the beach area in silence, Devine started talking.

“It’s not the largest beach I’ve been on.”

“I think it’s just the right size. From here it’s a twenty-minute walk to the start of the estates, and from there it’s all private beach. Have you tried it since moving here?”

“Nope. I seem to be working a lot. It takes a concerted effort to start up a business, you know. I have to take on as many clients as I can possibly handle until I hit the mother lode.”

“And what would that be?”

“Maybe a big corporate contract that allows me to drop the jealous-wife jobs.” He smiled suddenly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be doing this than being back on the force, but I’d also like to pay my bills with ease.”

J.J. laughed. “Who wouldn’t?”
So, how did you pay for your nice new car?

“How’s your elbow?”

“Not as bad as I thought it would be. Just don’t punch it or anything, please.”

He chuckled. “Good. Now, tell me who you’ve been talking to about the murder.”

“You don’t mean like the Culinary Capers gang, I’m assuming.”

“I mean anyone you’ve considered a suspect or someone who you cornered hoping to get information out of them.”

J.J. stopped walking. “Hm. I’d have to think about that a few minutes.” She sat on a log and stared at the water. The wind was picking up and the waves lapping the shore were getting larger. She crossed her arms and bent forward to keep warm.

Devine stood throwing rocks, trying to make them skip across the water without much luck. Too much wind. His navy anorak blew in the wind, though, giving J.J. a fine view of his derriere, nicely clinging jeans and all. Not that she cared. He finally gave up and sat beside her.

J.J. glanced at him and started reciting her list. “I’ve talked to Rocco and Evan, of course, both being considered suspects. And, I guess Hank Ransom, Rocco’s cook. Of course, Candy put me on to Kevin Lonsdale, Marcotti’s cook, who put me on to Don Kelland, city councilor, but I haven’t had a chance to get to him yet.”

Devine interrupted, “And probably shouldn’t, either.”

J.J. frowned. “It does sound like the outdoor patio space is a weak motive for murder, but he and Marcotti did get into several arguments over the past month. And I’ve also talked to Candy Fleetwood, of course. Although I’m not so sure I’m thinking of her as a suspect these days. And Mrs. Marcotti, or rather, I tried but didn’t luck out.” She flashed Devine a withering look.

“That’s the list? You’ve managed to ruffle more than a few feathers in the village, I’d say. And you still haven’t uncovered the killer? I guess you’d better not switch jobs anytime soon.” He chuckled.

J.J. punched him on the arm. “I don’t want your job or to be a cop. I just want to get Rocco off the hook. I really
believe he didn’t do it. Neither did Evan. Nor did I, just for the record.”

“I agree with your assessment of the three of you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Which is why we’re sitting here having this conversation right now.” Suddenly serious, he turned to face her. “But we’ve got to figure out who on that list either got worried enough to try to get at you, or said something to someone, who then tried to.”

“If it’s the latter, we’ll never figure it out.” She moved her head from side to side, stretching the neck muscles. She thought she should get moving before she stiffened up and if she wanted to be able to stand up gracefully. But she stayed put.

“Never say never. That’s why I have a job. So did anyone raise any alarm bells in your head when you were talking?”

“No.”

“Anyone react in an unusual manner?”

“No.”

“How about anyone trying to cut your questioning short?”

“Well, Hank Ransom was in no mood to talk, but I figured it was because he was overwhelmed with trying to run the bistro without Rocco there. Although I’m certain I saw him there later the day Rocco was taken in for questioning. Most of the lights were out, and he wouldn’t answer the door when I knocked, even though he saw me. The only other person working there is the part-time server over lunch, who doubles as the cashier. She really was no help at all and, I’m sure, not involved. What do you know about Ransom?”

Devine moved back toward the water, picked up a handful of rocks, and started throwing them again. “Not much.”

“I don’t believe that. I think you’ve thoroughly looked into the backgrounds of each and everyone involved with this case. Now, I shared my info; you share yours.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

He turned back to face her. “Because you’d just go ahead and poke your nose in even further. You’re not trained to do this. I am.”

“That’s so not fair.” J.J. stood abruptly. “Well, if you don’t share, I’d say this conversation is over.”

She started stalking back in the direction of the car. She heard Devine swear as he caught up with her.

“All right. I’ll tell you anything I think you need to know that will help eliminate people off that list. But that’s as far as I’m prepared to go. And you know, if you keep this up, the police are bound to catch on, if they haven’t already. Then you could be in trouble for interfering in an investigation.”

J.J. huffed and crossed her arms but she couldn’t think of a comment that wouldn’t sound whiney. She chose to keep walking in silence. She retrieved her sneakers and sat to put them on, then walked to the car to wait for Devine to catch up.

He drove her back to her office and pulled up to the curb. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or to get hurt.”

She squirmed a bit. “I know. If I promise to stop asking questions, you have to promise to find the murderer real fast.”

“Deal.” He smiled and she felt herself smiling back. She uncrossed her fingers, pulled her hand out of her jacket pocket, and let herself out of the car.

“You could have been killed,” Skye shrieked when J.J. told her about the incident with the van. They were sitting in Skye’s living room on Sunday, sipping white wine while Nick grilled some salmon filets outdoors.

“That’s what Devine said.”

“Ah, he’s a clever guy. And handsome.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

J.J. shrugged. “I’ll admit that he’s clever but apparently not enough so to have found the killer.”

“Well, what else did he say and when did he say it? Did you go out with him?”

“What? Of course not. He’s not dating material, and we’re talking murder here, not romance. We went for a walk and he asked me who all I’d been questioning.”

“Where and when did you walk?”

“Really, Skye?” When Skye continued to look at her
expectantly, she finally relented. “Laurel Beach. Saturday morning.”

Skye didn’t reply. She just smiled smugly. J.J. knew that smile from the seven years they’d been friends. Whenever Skye knew she was about to get her way, out came the smile. Well, two could play the game.

“I really love that fitted top you’re wearing. Dynamite color. Is it new?”

“Do not try to change the subject, and yes it is. Now, dish.”

“All right.” J.J. took another sip before doing so. She went through the details of Devine coming to the office and convincing her to walk and talk. “I told him who I’d been talking to about the murder, but that didn’t result in any alarm bells going off and Devine leaping up to announce the killer’s name.”

“Hmm. Now you’re getting dramatic. That’s a good sign.”

“Of what? No, don’t answer that.”

“Remember, in college, you always got overly dramatic when you talked about some new guy that you wanted to date.”

“I did not.”

“Did so. You still do that, not with the dating of course, since you haven’t been serious about anyone since that jerk fiancé of yours back in Montpelier. Which is why I believe you when you say that you and Connor Mac are just really good friends. But look at you, when you start getting emotional about anything, you go off the deep end for a few seconds, work through to the worst-case scenario in your head, and then come out the other side able to deal with the problem.”

“Wow, thank you. I’d have to pay big bucks to get that kind of analysis anywhere else. I’ll admit, I do on occasion think the worst, but I don’t see what that has to do with Ty Devine. My other news is, you’ll never guess who called late Friday afternoon.”

When J.J. had finished the play-by-play of the conversation
with Portovino, she threw her arms wide. “Voilà. What do you think?”

“Nice. He’s a very honorable gentleman and an invaluable client. That’s a relief, really. You know, sometimes the wealthier they are, the—dare I say—stingier they are. He sounds like a nice guy. Now, how about your other client? And this will be the absolute last talk of work this weekend.”

“Olivia Barker? I had a brilliant idea and worked it up and e-mailed her Friday afternoon.” She took a long sip of wine before carrying on. “I actually called up the receptionist at Kirking Manufacturing on Thursday and asked to speak to someone who knew the guest of honor really well. The guy I talked to was a wealth of information. Anyway, he said the honoree’s favorite pastime was his model train work. He’s built a miniature town in his basement at home—it takes up the entire space—and keeps adding to the town and the train. He’s absolutely obsessed by it, I’m told.”

She stood and started pacing, trying to contain her excitement. “So, I was thinking of decorating the side wall of the patio at the Walkton Club in décor that will transform it into a posh railway dining car. We’ll use velvet draped around windows that are painted on the wall to show passing scenery. Everyone attending will be issued a train ticket, which will be punched by ‘conductors.’” She used her hands to provide the quotation marks and was getting more excited as she went on. “We can rent dining-car china, crystal, and white linens from the railway heritage society in Campbellville. The servers will be properly attired, again all rented. Printed menus. The whole bit. I even suggested a subscription to a railroading magazine as part of his gift. What do you think?”

J.J. looked expectantly at Skye. She realized that, even after a couple of years working for her, it was the one opinion that really mattered.

“Dy-na-mite. The contract is yours, guaranteed. I wonder what the competition will come up with.”

“You had to mention that. I know—reality check.”

Nick knocked on the patio door at that moment, and Skye ran over to open the door for him.

“Ladies, your superbly grilled dinner awaits you,” Nick said, depositing a plate with the salmon on the table and continuing into the kitchen with the grilling utensils. He came back carrying a bottle of cabernet sauvignon.

Skye scrambled into the kitchen to grab the veggies from the oven. They passed around the food, and J.J. noticed the smile that passed between them. She smiled also. She was happy for Skye. They’d shared a lot over the years, and J.J. was relieved Skye had ended up with one of the good guys. When she thought back to the long string of losers Skye had attracted throughout their college years, she remembered how often she’d wanted to give Skye a good shake. This was more like it.

Toward the end of the meal, Skye told Nick about J.J.’s van experience.

“This is turning out to be very dangerous,” Nick said. He pushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. That must be really annoying for a dentist, she thought. But it did look good on him. He was much taller than Skye and leaner, but their fair complexions and blond hair were a match. “Skye’s been telling me about all the questions you’ve been asking. Maybe it’s time to stop.”

“So I’m told. But I continue to believe the police have the wrong man in custody. The more I ask around, the more astounded I am by the number of possible suspects. Antonio Marcotti was not a very well-liked guy.”

“I attended a banquet he catered once,” Nick admitted. “It was put on by Grimswald Medical and Dental Equipment. They’re one of the largest suppliers in the state. I remember toward the end of the evening there was some big to-do in the kitchen. Lots of yelling, and it sounded like
some pots and pans being thrown. The Grimswald fellow came barreling out of there and told the orchestra leader to play louder. I heard him. I was sitting at the table right next to the stage, which in fact was his table, too.”

“And?” Skye asked when it appeared that Nick had finished his story.

“There is no
and
.” He poured some more wine all around. “J.J. said that people didn’t like Marcotti and I remembered the evening. End of story.”

“How do you know Marcotti was involved?” J.J. asked.

“Because Mark Erwin, my sales rep from the company, asked what had happened. The other guy said that Marcotti flew off the handle when questioned about a substitution that had found its way onto the menu.”

Skye gasped. “The same thing that happened to you, J.J.”

“How long ago was this?” J.J. asked.

“Oh, a few years ago. Before I met you, Skye.”

“Probably too long for your Grimswald guy to carry a grudge, unless he lost his job over it or something.”

“I don’t think that would have happened. He was too high up in the company, as I recall. But I could tell it didn’t sit well with him. He fumed about it most of the night. I’ll bet he never used Bella Luna Catering again.”

“Oh man, I wish we’d known before contracting with him,” Skye said.

“It might not have made much of a difference at that point,” J.J. pointed out. “I was desperate for a replacement.”

“Well, let’s forget about the late Mr. Marcotti and focus on this delicious dinner presented by our own chef, Nick Owens.” Skye raised her glass in a toast.

“To Chef Owens,” J.J. offered, clinking her glass with Skye.

Nick stood and bowed from the waist and then passed around the remaining piece of salmon, which he’d sliced into thirds.