Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) (18 page)

Devine looked surprised to be pulled back into the conversation. “A couple of names have come up. We’d heard that his head chef might be leaving and that there had been some arguments over that. Do you know anything about it?”

“Yes, it’s true. Tonio told me about an offer from some competitor downtown, and he was worried Kevin might take it—and worse yet, might take some kitchen secrets with him. Now that really got him angry. I know they had a very serious shouting match a couple of weeks ago, but I’m not sure what’s been happening lately.”

“Do you know Kevin Lonsdale very well? Do you think he could commit murder?” J.J. interjected.

Gina thought about it for a few seconds. “I really don’t know. It doesn’t seem like a powerful enough motive, though, does it? Killing over recipes?” She gave a sharp laugh.

“I guess, when you put it that way . . .”

“We also have reason to believe that the local councilor, Don Kelland, had been at loggerheads with your husband,” Devine said, watching his client’s face.

“Yes. Tonio had been angry with him for a long time over zoning issues, but he was about to fix all that by running against him in the next election. And you know, with the Italian community and my money behind him, he would have won. Now, does that make Mr. Kelland a murderer? I don’t know. Do you?”

“I’ll find out.”

Devine waited a beat and then looked over at J.J., who gave a small nod. “We’ll be leaving, then.”

J.J. stood and suddenly asked, “Are you having an affair right now?”

Gina drew herself up. “I don’t think I’ll answer that.”

“But don’t you see? This guy could be the killer, wanting to get your husband out of the way so that he could marry you.”

Gina blanched. “He wouldn’t do such a thing.” Her voice was steely as she bid them good-bye.

They were walking toward the car when J.J. asked Devine, “Why didn’t you pursue the question about her lover? It sounds like she is still in an affair. We need to know who the guy is.”

“I didn’t ask because I know and I’m not going to tell you.”

“Why not? I thought we were in this together?”

“Really? At the most, we’re helping each other by sharing leads. Now, let it drop, J.J. The man is not the murderer. Now, do you have anything else to tell me?”

“No.”
Two can play this game.

She stewed about their conversation all the way back, and by the time she walked up the stairs to her office, she was more determined than ever to find out the name of the mystery lover. She had her hand on the doorknob when a thought struck her: what if it was Ty Devine?

Later that night, she knocked on Ness Harper’s door. In one hand, her excuse: a plate of profiteroles. What she really wanted was a sounding board and another take on where the case was going. He answered on the first knock.

“Ah, she comes bearing a bribe. Must want something pretty bad.”

J.J. still wasn’t totally used to Ness’s wry sense of humor. She looked hard to see if there was any sign he was joking—twitchy mouth, dancing eyes, anything? Nothing. She chose to take it as such, anyway.

“Precisely, and I’m glad we can get right down to the point,” J.J. said, equally seriously.

“Only after we have coffee and one of those delicious looking whatchamacallits. Homemade, of course?” He smiled and J.J. started laughing.

“Not likely. You know, I have to admit, sometimes I’m still not quite sure how to take what you say.”

“So you’ve said.” Ness shrugged. “That’s me. Come in. I’ll start the coffee brewing.”

She followed him down the short hall, the mirror of her own apartment, at least as far as the layout. She perched on a stool at the counter while Ness went through the process of grinding coffee, measuring it out into the basket, and adding water to the glass Pyrex coffee percolator. She knew he loved his coffee and was always very precise about how he made it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen one of those percolators on the store shelves.

“So, what’s troubling you, missy?” he asked, his back to her.

“It’s this whole Marcotti business.”

“I could have guessed that. What’s new?” He pulled out a stool beside her and sat to wait for the coffee to finish perking.

“The latest is that Mrs. Marcotti was and is still having an affair. She’s had several, apparently, just like her husband.”

“Hm. A possible candidate for the murderer. Do you know who the guy is?”

“I don’t, but Devine does.”

Ness raised his eyebrows. “Devine does. How do you know that?”

“Because we talked to Mrs. Marcotti together. He told me to leave it alone when I tried pressing her for details about the latest lover.”

Ness thought about it a few seconds. “Any ideas?”

“No. Well, not really. Well, maybe. Just a question, really. What if it’s Devine?”

“Devine!” Ness gave it some more thought. “Don’t see why it couldn’t be. What are you thinking?”

“Well, he was at the Portovino estate, he admitted it. And we only have his word that he left when he said he did. Maybe that’s why he told the police about me—he wanted to divert attention.”

“It’s possible. And he’s continuing with the investigation
in order to deflect any suspicion from himself, should it arise.”

“Exactly. That’s probably why he’s popping up all the time and harassing me.”

“Harassing. That’s a strong word. It sounds like you two joined forces for the Marcotti meeting.” Ness looked over at the coffeepot, which was just starting to perk.

“Well, yes, we did. But he could have manipulated me to do that.”

“Hm. Who called who?”

“Okay, I called him, but that part might not be important. He did tell me not to pursue it, after all. Oh, I know, there’s quite an age difference between the two of them, but it’s happened before, hasn’t it? And she is a wealthy woman, and he’s a . . .”

Ness tilted his head. “He’s what?”

J.J. felt her face turning red. “Some would say he’s a very attractive, sexy guy.”

Ness stood and went to turn the stove burner down to low. “Let’s move into the living room. Much more comfortable there. I’m not really sure why I have these stools. Hate sitting on them.”

J.J. perched on the edge of the worn tweed-covered sofa while Ness sat in his leather recliner across from her. She hoped he wouldn’t get back to the topic of Devine. She looked at the coffee table that separated them. The top was cluttered with magazines, newspapers, and what looked like a paper plate with some dried food on it. She tried not to judge.

“So, what’s your next step?” Ness asked.

She sighed. “That’s just it, I don’t know. Should I tell the police?”

“I’m sure they’ve already checked him out every which way, but they should be told about the affairs, in case it
hasn’t been mentioned before. Let them draw their own conclusions.”

J.J. visibly relaxed and leaned back. “That sounds like a plan.”

“I sort of get the feeling that you like this Devine guy.”

She looked startled. “Like? Why would you say that? Well, I guess he’s okay. But I’m still a bit ticked off at him for spying on me, and he sure tried pushing me around when I made contact with Candy Fleetwood. That I don’t like. And if he’s having an affair—and worse yet, if he’s the killer . . .” She didn’t know how to finish the statement.

“Hm. I’ll check on the coffee.”

J.J. tried not to think about what Ness had said. Like the guy? Sure, in a casual, “we keep bumping into each other, so might as well be friendly” way. But not anything more. That was for certain. Her cheeks felt a bit flushed again, and she touched them.

“Here you go, fresh coffee the way it should be made, not with these pods and cups and what have you. Here, take one of your decadent whatevers. I tried one already. Feel free to bribe me anytime with this stuff.”

He put the tray on the coffee table and sat across from her again. After looking at her a few moments, he smiled and shook his head.

She had a hard time getting to sleep. Of course, it was the coffee. She knew she shouldn’t have had one at that time of night, much less the second cup she’d accepted. And then thoughts about Ty Devine kept flooding her brain. How could he be so deceitful? How could he be having an affair with a married woman? Okay, she wasn’t so naïve as to believe it didn’t happen all the time. But Devine?

He was handsome in a rugged sort of way. It was the eyes.
That intense blue got her every time. It should have been a warning. Her ex-fiancé also had blue eyes but not so piercing. She thought about him for a while, remembering their good times and then the brutal betrayal, him sleeping with a prospective client their company was wooing. He swore he’d done it strictly to get the account, but he knew that J.J. had also wanted it. That whomever brought it in would get a promotion. She gave herself a mental head slap.
Stop thinking about the scumbag.
Great word for him. She smiled and tried to calm her mind, but Devine crept in again.

She should have been glad if he was the lover, and hence the murderer. Her search would be over. But how to prove it? She doubted he’d slip up in any way if she tried sweet-talking him. He was an experienced investigator, and she was sure he’d faced any number of tough guys—and manipulating ones—in the past. Could she go back to Gina Marcotti on her own and play on her feelings, hope she’d name Devine as her lover, which might give him a motive to be the killer? Surely she wouldn’t want to continue with him if that were the case. Unless she was in on it.

J.J.’s eyelids shot open. That had to be it. No, it didn’t. She’d already decided that Gina had no need to be rid of her husband. Not for money, that was for certain. But what if for love? Oh man, this was driving her crazy.

Eventually, she dropped off, but she felt every bit of the lack of sleep the next day, and she had the big meeting with Olivia Barker coming up. She scrambled to get ready the next morning, and ordered an extra-large double-shot latte on her way to work.

As she was walking past Evan’s open door, she heard him call out. She detoured into his office. “Good morning, Evan. You wanted to talk to me?”

“Yup, it is a good morning. And I do want to talk if you have a minute. It’s about Tansy.”

Uh-oh. “I hate to ask, but what now?”

“She said you were going to speak to me about the paint? Did we have that conversation?” He leaned back in his chair, and she noticed for the first time a small paunch straining at the buttons of his yellow dress shirt. She’d heard that Michael was a great cook, although it was usually Evan who did the honors whenever she’d been invited over.

“No, I forgot. There’s been so much going on lately. But I did promise her, so here goes. She’s right, you know. We do need to freshen the place up. Think of the clients.”

“You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about it, and she’s right, too.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No, I thought you’d like to, since it was your task to talk me into it.” He smiled and sat forward abruptly. “She knows how to change tactics all right.”

“It was in exchange for her doing something that had to do with the case.”

His smile faded. “You know, the police came by to see me again yesterday.”

“Oh no. What did they want?”

“They’d really like for someone other than Michael to give me an alibi, but what they asked was, had I ever been to Rocco G’s and when?”
Access to the knife.

“That at least means they haven’t closed the case.” J.J. jumped up. “I’m sorry you’re under fire again, Evan. Tell me if there’s anything I can do.”

She meant it, but she was now anxious to get out of there and find out if Rocco was still in jail. This, along with what Alison had mentioned about the surveillance on Candy, must mean the major heat was off Rocco.

He waved his hand. “Nothing. There’s nothing at the moment. Thanks, anyway.”

J.J. went over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m sure this will be resolved soon. But let me know if anything crops up, okay?”

Evan nodded.

J.J. ran up the stairs and stopped at Tansy’s office door, hoping she would agree to call the police and check on whether Rocco had been released, especially once she heard the good news about the paint.

“Tansy is out at the county records office,” Izzy told her.

Okay. It could wait. Maybe she should call Rocco G’s and ask. She went back to her desk and was about to do so when the phone rang. A new prospective client. Mrs. Jewels Stanton, wife of Clayton, well-known Burlington defense attorney and always in the local top-five wealthiest list. J.J. tried to contain her excitement as she spent the next half hour supplying some background about Make It Happen and gathering details about the upcoming Stanton fiftieth wedding anniversary celebration in return. They agreed to meet the following week.

J.J. silently thanked Lorenzo Portovino for recommending them to the Stantons, as she gathered her jacket and purse to head for Kirking Manufacturing. Her call to Rocco G’s would have to wait.

J.J. was asked to wait in the reception area until Olivia Barker joined her. She wondered where the other event planner was. She hoped Ms. Barker wasn’t in a meeting with her. That wouldn’t bode well.

She could picture them sharing a coffee and a laugh as they delved into plans for the retirement party. At some point the interloper, as J.J. had come to think of her, would ask what J.J. had proposed, already knowing, of course, and would then introduce her own latest idea in such a way that
anything else sounded amateurish and second rate. Barker would absolutely love the ideas. They’d end up with a quick hug, and Barker’s secretary would appear to tell J.J. she wasn’t needed anymore.

Talk about a worst-case scenario.

J.J. tried not to fidget.
Just stay calm.
She picked up the latest issue of
Vermont Life
from the end table and flipped through it, all the while going over in her mind all that she wanted to make sure to say at the meeting.

Finally, the receptionist looked over at J.J. and told her Ms. Barker’s assistant was on the way. J.J. swallowed to dispel the panic and looked up to see a young and pert woman wearing a navy pantsuit, white shirt, and flat shoes, obviously trying for an older and in-charge look, heading her way.

“I’m sorry you had to wait, but Ms. Barker is just finishing up with a supplier.” Her smile was sincere, as was the tone of her voice. J.J. relaxed as she continued, “Sometimes these things run over, you know. Let me show you to her office and I’ll get you some coffee or water if you’d like.”

J.J. followed her to a small but tastefully decorated corner office with a fourteenth-floor view of the lake on one side and the Burlington skyline in the distance from the other.