Toasting Up Trouble (A Dinner Club Mystery) (8 page)

“Were you able to provide the police with any help in the matter?”

Rocco shrugged. “Not really. They were aware that Marcotti was not an easy man to get along with and I know they were trying to make me lose my temper. But I did not. I would not fall into that trap and appear to be one who flew off the handle easily and maybe committed murder in a fit of rage.” He looked pleased with himself, which made J.J. wonder if the police had given Rocco many details about the murder. She hoped so.

“I’m sure the police have a few pages of suspects by now,” she offered. “His reputation was well known, apparently.”

Devine nodded. “If you were looking for a murderer, where would you go next?” He looked at Rocco.

“You know that he was part owner of the High Time Fitness Center?”

Devine nodded. J.J. leaned forward. It was news to her.

Rocco looked at his hands, folded on the table in front of him, and then up at Devine. “Did you also know that he was having an affair with one of the personal trainers?”

Devine shook his head. “Tell me about it.”

“Her name is Candy Fleetwood and she’s young enough to be his granddaughter. But he always was a fool when it came to
le signor
. It’s a widely known secret in the Italian community. I’m sure even his beautiful but aging wife is also aware of it.”

J.J. glanced at Devine, but his face didn’t give away a thing. He stood and stuck out his hand. “Thanks for the tip. Nice to meet you, Mr. Gates.” He nodded at J.J. and left.

Rocco stood and gathered the cups. He looked out the
window before walking back to the counter. “Perhaps that man will get at the truth.”

J.J. took that as her hint to leave. “Let’s hope so.” She realized when she reached home that she hadn’t gotten any advice after all.

Or maybe she had.

J.J. consulted her computer for the address of the High Time Fitness Center before leaving the house on Friday morning. She needed her car for this prework visit and thought over how to handle her questions as she made her way to the parking lot in back of her apartment building. Her once-shiny new Mirage needed a wash, but she didn’t know when that would happen. Not with her schedule these days.

By the time she arrived at the center, she’d come up with a plan. She’d ask to talk to Candy Fleetwood about setting up a personal fitness program, and if she wasn’t able to slip in the necessary questions about Marcotti, she’d follow through and enroll for the bare minimum program. It would probably even do her some good, she rationalized.

She had to wait twenty minutes for Fleetwood to appear. “I’m sorry about the wait, but I had to finish up with a client. You asked specifically for me. Who recommended me?” Candy
looked delighted and not at all suspicious, to J.J.’s relief. Nor in mourning. But as J.J. well knew, looks could be deceiving.

“You know, I can’t remember who. It was a few months back. Probably a client. But I’d written down the name of this place and yours, and today’s the day I decided I needed to do some work on my body.”

Candy grinned. “All over, or are there specific areas you want to focus on?”

J.J. shrugged. “I don’t really know. Tell me what you’d suggest, then I’ll have something to base a decision on.”

“Sure. Come with me.”

J.J. took the opportunity to figure out what had attracted Marcotti to Candy as she led the way through double doors, down a hall, and into the gym area. There was the obvious one: her stunning good looks, in a young, blonde cheerleader way. But she also seemed genuine, although it was probably too soon to judge that. As Candy pointed out the various stations, she sounded so bubbly that J.J. felt herself being sucked into the fitness vortex.

“So, what do you think?” Candy asked, as they wound up back at the front reception desk. “Do you want to sign on and start tomorrow?”

J.J. didn’t really, but she hadn’t found a way to ask her questions, so she agreed.

Candy made a small
yippee
sound, at the same time clapping her hands and bouncing on the spot. “I’m so happy. You’ll find it will make such a difference in how you look and in your life. And we’ll have so much fun. I’ll just go and start working out a program for you. Just sign up with Janice at the front desk and check for an available time, and she’ll slot you in. Byee.”

Candy squealed again and disappeared back through the doors. J.J., trying not to take offense from the remark about
how she looked, pulled out her credit card to pay. By the time she’d booked her appointment for the following Monday morning, she sensed that someone was standing behind her.

She almost knocked Devine over as she abruptly turned. “What are you doing here?”

Looking exasperated, he shook his head. “I don’t have to ask why you’re here.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the front door. They stopped several feet from the receptionist. Still, he kept his voice low, which added a sinister quality to it.

“What are you trying to do? Wreck my investigation? You know what the police will do when they find out you’re butting in?”

J.J. pulled her arm out of his grip and turned her back to the receptionist. Who knew if she could read lips? “I’ve signed up for some sessions with a personal trainer, that’s all. I’ve been thinking about doing it for a long time now. I’ve wanted to get in shape for a while but never took the first step. There are so many gyms and spas around, you know. Actually hearing a name and a place was the incentive I needed.” She bit her tongue to keep from rambling even more.

Ty stepped back and gave her the once-over. “You already look in shape.”

J.J. felt her cheeks do a slow glow. She chose to ignore the comment, looking at her watch instead. “Oh, look at that. I have to run. I’m late for work. Byee.” She could have kicked herself for that. Obviously, Candy was already having an influence.

She quickly exited before he could say anything else or stop her. She didn’t look back until she was in her car, and then she took a deep breath before driving off. She wasn’t happy that Ty knew of her plan, but there was nothing she could do at this point.

She would just have to make sure it panned out.

She took the time during the short drive to the office to wonder about Candy’s seeming lack of distress. Maybe she and Marcotti weren’t having an affair after all. Maybe she’d been in it only for the gifts and was really one cold-hearted femme fatale. Or maybe she didn’t know what had happened. But his death had been in the news and surely the staff at the fitness center had been told. He had been their boss, after all. J.J. stowed her thoughts as she pulled into the parking lot behind the office building.

By midafternoon, J.J. had to admit to hunger pangs. She’d skipped lunch. Not a good idea. However, she was having dinner with Connor Mac later. She’d better snack up before going. Nothing worse than pigging out in front of a date.

“Hi. I’m here,” Brittany Stewart announced as she pushed open the door to the office.

Skye looked up from her computer. “Great, Brittany. How was your school week?”

“Hi,” J.J. threw in.

Brittany shrugged. “It was so cool. I have a hot date tomorrow to go to see Cirque du Soleil. I think it’s the first time they’re performing in Burlington, and it’s so cool that I’m going. Is it all right if I work a bit later tonight and skip tomorrow morning?”

“Sure,” Skye agreed. “We’ve got some snail mail that needs to go out and some filing.” She looked over at J.J. “Anything else?”

“Nothing aside from the website update that you were going come in special to do tomorrow. Are you still able to get that done?”

“It’s a snap. I can do that with my eyes closed,” Brittany bragged. She went right to work, sorting through the paper tasks first. Individual binders were kept for each event, and keeping them up to date was Brittany’s job. Also, even though most transactions were handled by e-mail these days,
Skye insisted additional paper backup of everything be filed, just in case.

J.J. watched her for a few minutes. Oh, to be so excited over a date. She wondered what that felt like. It had been a long time. Of course, it was a long time since she’d been a high school senior, too. She was certain Brittany had no shortage of dates. Over the past five months she’d worked for them, she’d seemed more interested in talking about the latest clothes and whether she should straighten her long blonde locks than what was happening in the world.

J.J. gave herself a mental kick. That wasn’t really fair. At that age, she herself had also been interested in fashions and style, which is probably why she’d drifted into the world of advertising on graduating from Champlain College in Burlington. It had beckoned like the call of the ocean and a wide strip of white sand. In fact, her first campaign had been for a travel agency. And she had lucked out with a free trip to those sands, a trip of a lifetime. But she’d also been aware of the extreme poverty just outside the gates of the resort. She shouldn’t dismiss Brittany so quickly. Maybe she had a charity or concern that she was into but just never talked about.

J.J. finally shut down her computer and grabbed her briefcase. “Gotta go. I’ve got a hot date myself tonight.”

“Connor? Hot?” Skye joked.

“Yes and yes. Have a good weekend, both of you.”

“Good luck with your dinner club on Sunday.”

“Thank you. Not worried. See, no nerves.” She held out both hands in front of her, then quickly grabbed her purse when she noticed the slight shaking. “Ciao.”

She’d already checked the mirror three times before Connor knocked on her apartment door. She took a final glance at herself before opening it. She’d realized how it was odd that she be so conscious of how she looked when going out with Connor.

There were no sparks there. Nothing to suggest future passion. But she did have fun with him, and Connor always looked ready to step into the limelight. There was a certain buzz about that. As the morning man on local radio station WHMB, he’d been chosen as the face of the place for all their advertising. His dark good looks, enhanced by a perpetual five o’clock shadow, always turned heads wherever he went. And J.J. had decided, without even realizing it, that she should at least try not to embarrass him when they went out. The look of pleasure on his face when he eyed her reinforced her decision to wear a silky red swing blouse with skinny black pants.

“I’m ready,” she said after a quick kiss on the cheek.

Connor had booked them a table at Ettore Trattoria, a fairly new Italian restaurant in downtown Burlington. J.J. was impressed. She also realized it might be quite some time before her recent penchant for Italian food was forgotten.

“I’d heard you had to book months in advance to get a spot here,” she whispered after the maître d’ had held her chair for her. She looked around. It seemed to be full even at this early hour.

Connor grinned what she’d come to label his real smile. “I don’t play the media card very often, but I really wanted to eat here and I thought you’d find it cool.” He ran his right hand across his chin and reached for the menu.

She nodded. “I do.”

“So tell me,” he said after they’d placed their orders, “are you all set for Sunday’s feast, or do you think it would jinx it to talk about any questions you might have?”

J.J. smiled. “I have it all in hand, thanks to some friendly advice from a certain Italian who’s in the food business.”

Connor looked suddenly serious. “Do you mean Antonio Marcotti? I’d heard you were interviewed by the police.”

“No, not Marcotti. But you’re right, I’m on their suspect list. I meant Rocco Gates.”

“Also on that list.”

“How do you know that? Oh, of course, the media knows all.” She knew she sounded sarcastic, so she smiled to take the edge off.

He shrugged. “We try. So tell me, is this bothering you a lot?”

“It is, of course. I was the last person to talk to him, or so it seems, except for the murderer that is. And I don’t like being thought of as a suspect. But I’m also worried that two friends are on that list, too.”

Connor nodded. “I know about Evan.”

“Hm. See what I mean?”

He stared at her until she looked at him. “I’m not the bad guy here. I have a job and I do it and, I might add, being a radio host is a far cry from being a newsperson. And I do understand how it can turn your life upside down to be involved in something like this.”

“That’s a good description. I try not to dwell on it, especially since I do have deadlines at work, but sometimes . . .”

He covered her hand with his and gave it a comforting squeeze. “I know you’re innocent, and I also know that Evan is, too.”

“What about Rocco?”

“I don’t know much about him. I’ve been to his bistro a couple of times and he seems like a nice guy, but we’ve never really talked. I would think, though, that if you like him and trust him, he’s gotta be okay.”

“Thanks.” J.J. took a sip of the wine that had been served while they were talking. “He’s been good to me. I feel I owe him.”

“Have you talked to Alison about all this? She is a police officer, after all.” Connor offered her a slice of still-warm bread and pushed the butter dish closer to her.

“I haven’t seen Alison since we were all at the Cups ’n’ Roses. I can’t keep track of her work schedule.”

“Well, why not give her a call? Get her take on how it’s going. I bet she’ll help put your mind at ease.”

J.J. thought about it. “Sounds better than just sitting around worrying.”

Sunday morning, J.J. woke with a start, checked the clock on her bedside table, and flopped back on the pillow. Within seconds, Indie had jumped onto the bed and snuggled in beside her.

“Good morning, Indie. Did you do your early-morning rounds looking for bugs?” She ran her hand along his back, enjoying the softness and the resulting calm she always felt. After ten minutes, she eased away from him and pushed herself to get up. She had a busy day ahead.

She really needed a morning walk to clear her head and run over the list of to-dos for today’s dinner. She put the cat food out, chugged a tall glass of water, and left.

The morning was cooler than she’d supposed but held the promise of sun and therefore warmer temperatures by the afternoon. She turned toward the bay and by the second block was into her power-walk stride. She would head straight to the water and walk along to one end, then circle back home.

She met several dog walkers, none of whom she knew, but she greeted them with a smile. She loved walking down Gabor Avenue and looking in the shop windows. This was where the tourist quality of the village really shone through. She’d have to come back later and have a closer look at the brightly striped cushions she spotted in the window of Accent. The store next door, Imagine That, showcased an equally tempting orange throw in its window. Oh, to have the time, and the money, to indulge.

She reached the boardwalk and was happy to see only one other person around, and she was jogging in the same direction but well ahead. J.J. took the stairs down to the sand and continued walking north, putting all thoughts out of her mind. The to-do list could wait for the walk back. At the end of the sandy part, she stopped where a wild thicket of brush and undergrowth provided a natural buffer to keep interlopers away from the estates that lay beyond, and veered right. That brought her within viewing distance of the gates to the Portovino estate. She stopped abruptly and sucked in her breath as the memory of her shouting match with Marcotti flooded back. Such a beautiful setting for such a tragic happening. She wondered if the Portovino family felt the same every time they stepped out of the house.
Maudlin.

Time to head back and get the show on the road.

By two, the kitchen was a mess, and everything had been measured and prepared for the final stages in the cooking process. She glanced around. Why could she not clean up as she went along? Other cooks did. Those cooks were also less frazzled when it came time to dish up, she’d bet. She sighed and gathered all the dirty dishes and equipment, ran a sinkful of water, and washed down the countertop.

She’d loved the apartment when she’d first seen it two years ago. One of the major selling features for her was the open concept and resulting brightness in every room.
However, that was also the main problem, especially when it came to having dinner guests. The kitchen had to be totally cleaned first. Counters cleared and washed. Nothing extra to clutter the space.

She glanced at the clock and realized she wouldn’t have time to Skype with her mom. She’d tried yesterday but it had been a rushed day for the Tanners, June and Adam, with her mom showing several houses to a client in town for the weekend, and her dad busy painting up a storm. Or maybe it wasn’t a landscape he was working on this time. As a successful Realtor, June Tanner’s days were filled with activity, quite different from when J.J. was growing up. Then she’d been a stay-at-home mom until the youngest child, J.J., entered high school, and then the floodgates opened and June was all about the job.

J.J.’s dad was usually found at his easel in his studio that had been added to the north end of the house. That had been a given all though her childhood. It had led to a prominent place in the artistic community and a house full of original paintings. J.J. had many of them adorning her walls, too. She’d chosen the ones having to do with water, complementing the seashore colors she’d chosen for her rooms. The water had always been a source of comfort and relaxation for her, and after her turbulent life in Montpelier, she’d decided to make her new apartment an oasis. And it had worked. Until the murder.

She looked at the sink and sighed again but was spared having to actually stick her hands in the water when the doorbell rang.

She checked through the peephole and saw Ness Harper staring back at her. He waggled his eyebrows and held up a bowl at eye level.

“Good afternoon. This is a surprise,” she said, pulling the door wide open.

“I know this is your big cooking day, so I thought it would
be a good idea to share my special lunch with you. Help you get into the right frame of mind without actually having to do anything yet. That’s if you haven’t already eaten. I know it’s a bit late for lunch.”

“That’s so thoughtful, Ness. I just worked straight through without taking a break to eat.”

“I thought as much.”

She reached for the bowl. “What is it?”

“Just some chili.” He shrugged. “Haven’t tried this particular recipe before, but it looked interesting.”

“Will you share it with me?”

“Nope. I’ve eaten.”

“Well, how about some coffee?”

“That I will do.” He led the way into the kitchen as she shut the door.

She set the bowl on the counter and peeked at it. “Looks and smells yummy,” she said.

“I tried it with some vegetables this time. Carrots and celery along with some different herbs. It should still have a kick, though.” Ness sat at one of the stools at the counter. “So, what’s new with the cops?”

J.J. shook her head. She finished making their coffee and carried it over to the counter. “I was hoping I was off the hook after what Ty Devine told them, but Detective Hastings called yesterday and asked a few more questions. He admitted I’m still on the list because I could have doubled back after Devine left.”

Ness swore under his breath. J.J. smiled, feeling pleased to have his support. At least, she thought that’s what it meant.

“I’m less worried now, though,” she lied. “Their suspect list is getting longer by the day.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well, my friend Evan Thornton—you remember him—has been questioned, as has Rocco Gates, the owner of Rocco
G’s, although I’m certain neither of them had anything to do with it. That makes three of us who are actually innocent, so I’m hoping they have another list of people more likely to be the killer. I wonder if Candy Fleetwood has been added to that list.” She debated over whether to tell him about her upcoming appointment with Candy and decided
Why not?

“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you can’t come right out and ask her if she did it,” Ness commented when she’d filled him in.

“I know that. But I hope I can get a feel for how their relationship was going. If it was on the rocks, she could be a suspect.”

“The wife sounds like a better suspect, especially if she knew, and I do believe every wife knows, at some point.”

J.J. took a sip of her coffee and pondered that. She wondered if Ness was speaking from personal experience. “Well, we know that she realized there was an affair, because she hired Devine to find out who it was with, even though he won’t admit it to us. And as far as we know, he was still trying to find the person at the time Marcotti was killed. That’s why Devine was tailing me.”

“Or so he says. I wouldn’t be too quick to believe everything that shyster tells you.”

“Is this instinct or knowledge speaking?” J.J. smiled.

“Humph. Thirty-five years, partly on the street and then working as a detective. Look, I gotta go. You keep out of trouble, you hear?”

J.J. saluted him. “Yessir. And, thanks, Ness.”

He made a gruff sound in his throat and let himself out.

So, he doesn’t trust Devine. I don’t, either, but he may be the best chance at finding the killer. If I can’t. Where did that come from? I don’t know how to do this, and I don’t want to. Not really.

J.J. went back to tidying the kitchen. As much as she
appreciated Ness’s gesture, her stomach was too tied in knots to eat anything right now, even though she had skipped lunch. She stuck the chili in a covered glass dish and set it in the fridge. Her mind kept going on the sleuthing track
. She pictured finally cornering the killer, although his face was in the shadows and unidentifiable. She tried talking tough, but he came at her with a large knife, which she couldn’t escape.
So much for a worst-case scenario. Her mind then landed her behind bars, in jail, charged with murder. Maybe this was the worst-case scenario. Either way, she shuddered and blinked, glad to have that over with.

Now, dishes first, then maybe a short lie-down with Indie. She shrugged her shoulders and held in that position for a count of twenty, then released. After doing this three more times, she tilted her head to each shoulder and then shook out her arms and hands.

Tension begone.

“The cookbook was a good choice, J.J., with lots of tempting recipes, but I sort of missed there not being an appetizer section,” Evan said as he scooped a spoonful of the fettuccine with mushrooms, marsala, and mascarpone onto his plate.

“Are you complaining?” Alison asked. “And by the way, I believe the correct term is
antipasto
, not
appetizer
.”

“Point to you, Alison. You know I never complain, but it is unusual. Am I the only one feeling this way?”

“You’re right,” Connor answered. “Usually, there’s a variety of antipasti—at least that’s what’s on the menu in an Italian restaurant, so I’m sure other cookbooks include a section.”

“Well, the cover does call them ‘Italian-inspired recipes.’ So I guess Nigella is using her favorites or recipes that complement each other. I mean, it’s like any author crafting
a book, be it a novel or nonfiction. They get to choose what they want to include or leave out,” Beth added.

J.J. nodded. “I’m with you on that. And another thing the cover says is ‘easy.’ I’m sold.”

Everyone laughed, and Evan passed the basket of
pane
, the crusty Rosetta rolls provided by J.J. The rules allowed the host to add such items to the menu, even if they weren’t included in the cookbook being used.

Silence followed while they each savored the flavors on their plates. Too nervous to eat, J.J. scarcely touched her food. And what she did try was tasteless. Had she chosen the wrong cookbook? Had she made a mess of her dish? Had she known what she was getting into?

“Absolutely delicious,” Beth pronounced at last. “I love the pizzaiola. Like it says in the cookbook, it reminds me of a pizza topping, and you know how I love pizza.”

J.J. gave a quiet sigh of relief. She glanced around at the others. Looked like they all agreed.

“You’ve really done it, J.J. It looks inviting and tastes great. I’ll bet it wasn’t an easy choice for you to make, no matter what the cover says.” Evan added a second helping of everything to his plate. “In fact, I think all of the dishes are delicious, and we have chosen a very compatible meal. By the way, I noticed the beef—or rather, turkey—pizzaiola called for anchovies.” He looked directly at Alison as he said this and she made a gagging sound. “I’m assuming you got around that, or Alison would not be faking her ungracious gesture.”

“I asked Rocco Gates for some suggestions, and he came up with using miso. I hope it’s worked.”

“It’s seamless,” Beth agreed. “And it smells wonderful, just begging you to stick a fork in.”

“You can relax and eat now,” Alison said, giving her an elbow nudge.

J.J. smiled. “That obvious?”

Alison nodded and took another mouthful of the pizzaiola.

J.J. did the same. She took a couple seconds to savor the flavor before swallowing. The turkey was tender, and a tang came from the garlic, olives, and capers.
Yay!

“Okay, so what did you like best about this book?” Connor asked J.J.—the standard question at all their dinners. “Besides the pictures, I mean.”

J.J. waited until the chuckles had stopped. She’d prepared for this part, too.

“It really is a helpful book. Nigella Lawson has included all sorts of cooking tips and sections that give an explanation about the ingredients. It’s like she was here, sitting at the counter, talking me through it. I actually picture her with a glass of red wine in hand, leaning of the counter, encouraging, sipping. Of course, I have to give a lot of credit to Rocco Gates, also. He’s a great teacher.”

“Speaking of Rocco, is he still a suspect?” Beth asked.

“Why are you all looking at me?” Alison asked. She popped a black olive in her mouth. “I told you, this has nothing to do with me. And you should stay out of it. I know nothing, I tell nothing.”

“Well, then you should hear nothing,” Evan suggested. “So, plug your ears.”

“What?”

“You heard me, therefore you haven’t plugged your ears. Just give us a minute to bring everyone up to date, and no lip reading, either.”

“Huh. I do not plug my ears, but I do have to excuse myself and visit the powder room. So talk quickly.” Alison pushed back her chair, nodding at Connor, who was about to pour her some more wine.