Sprinkled in Malice Page 7

  "Gosh, Sal," Gianna murmured. "That poor man. He was only thirty-eight years old. It says that he had an ex-wife and a girlfriend he was currently living with. No mention of any children." She looked at me sadly. "I keep thinking how it could have been—"

  "Yes, I know." Wearily, I sat down next to her. The thought that it could have been Mike had run through my head at least a hundred times since last night. I yawned and rubbed my eyes. "Gi, can we please change the subject?"

  "Of course," she said soothingly and gave me a wan smile. "Josie said you were stopping by. That was right before Dad called and wanted to know if you were here. He asked if you'd come by the house later this afternoon with some fortune cookies. He said he doesn't have time to drive over here himself—major happenings at Coffin Central, I guess."

  Gianna's new name for our childhood home made me wince. I wasn't sure what major happenings meant and probably didn't want to know. "He does remember that my husband almost died last night, right?"

  She shrugged. "I don't know what he remembers some days. His mind is a unique piece of work. But he did say to tell you that he has a present for Mike. Something that will keep him busy while he's in the hospital. God knows what."

  My father meant well in his own way, so how could I refuse? "All right. I need to borrow Josie for a little while, if you're okay with that. Then my plan is to run back to the hospital for a bit and hopefully get to speak to the doctor. Then I'll bring the cookies to Mom and Dad's."

  "Take all the time you need," Gianna assured me as she bit into another cookie. "It's been dead here all morning."

  The word dead covered a lot of territory in my world these days. In this case, though, we needed business to pick up—especially since Mike was going to be out of work and our income cut in half. "So, what's Dad up to now? Is he buying another coffin or going on a book tour with Stephen King?"

  Gianna's mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Doesn't he wish. But who knows? I can't keep up with the man, Sal. He's got ten times the energy I do these days."

  "Yeah, tell me about it." I glanced around my cute but empty shop, with its blue-and-white-checkered vinyl floors, the beige walls with silver-framed artwork, and the little white tables accentuated with the crocheted tablecloths from my grandmother. "No customers at all?"

  "We had a few first thing this morning. I'm guessing the storm last night didn't help, and we're supposed to get more snow later." She pointed out the window at the snowflakes that had already started to descend from the sky. "If this winter doesn't end soon, I'm going to do something drastic."

  I reached over and rubbed her stomach. "It will. Hey, how's our little guy doing?" I wasn't sure why they insisted on keeping the baby's sex a secret. I certainly couldn't have done it. Maybe they were afraid that if Nicoletta knew, she'd harass them even more—although I wasn't sure that was possible. She'd declared that if the baby was a boy, she wanted it named after her husband, Alessandro. In the meantime, Gianna also had my mother calling every day, asking if there was a wedding date set yet. My sister saw drama unfold in the courtroom daily, but this had to be far worse for her. She tried to put on a brave face, but I suspected she was a hot mess on the inside.

  Gianna smiled fondly. "He's quite the kicker, that's for sure. Johnny thinks he's going to be a quarterback."

  As if on cue, Gianna's stomach vibrated against my palm, and I gasped. "Oh my gosh, he's saying hello to his auntie!"

  She grinned at me, but her eyes were anxious, and my heart went out to her. "Gi, what's wrong?"

  Gianna glanced toward the back room, but Josie was out of sight. "Can you keep a secret?"

  "I'm already keeping one, remember?" I said playfully, but her comment made me nervous since I couldn't handle any more bad news right now. "Is everything all right with the baby?"

  She nodded. "He's fine. I'm the one who has the problem." She blew out a breath, and I watched her stomach expand even further. "I'm scared. Not about the labor—well, maybe a little. But I'm scared about everything else. That's why I can't stop eating. I'm afraid I won't be a good mother, not like you will be someday." Her cheeks turned pink, and she stared at me sheepishly. "Oh Sal, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

  "It's okay." Everyone knew I was the one who had wanted children, not Gianna. Her pregnancy wasn't planned, and she'd had a hard time accepting it at first. The truth was, I had too. That no longer mattered, though. I was thrilled she'd made her peace with the pregnancy, and I couldn't wait to meet my beautiful nephew. "You're going to be a wonderful mother. Plus, you've got Grandma and me to help, and Johnny of course. Even Mom and Dad."

  She raised an eyebrow at me. "Sure, Mom and Dad can help with the baby. I mean, we turned out somewhat normal, so I guess they did something right."

  I laughed and squeezed her hand. "I'm sure it's natural to feel like this. You and Johnny will make awesome parents. Everything will be fine—wait and see."

  She leaned forward to give me a tight hug. "Thanks, Sal. I needed to hear that."

  Josie emerged from the back room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel, and wrapped her arms around me. "Sorry, I was on the phone. Thank God everything's okay. Mike's out of danger, right?"

  I nodded. "He's doing well. Talking nonstop this morning. I'm sorry I didn't text you back last night. Things were so crazy."

  "You already apologized. Stop worrying about me, hon." Josie stopped to adjust her long auburn hair, which was pulled back in a ponytail. "I've got to whip up a batch of raspberry cheesecake cookies. Mabel Patrick is having a seventieth birthday party tomorrow night, and her kids just phoned in an order for a last-minute cookie basket." She glanced at Gianna, who had answered a call on her cell. "Come into the kitchen with me for a second."

  "Sure." Something was bothering my best friend, although I wasn't sure what. Perhaps lack of business? The weather? We'd been through both before. The bakery had up and down days like any other type of business. With Mike out of work, I might have to think of some more creative ways to bring in money. A cookie sale? We rarely did that, but maybe the time had come.

  Josie tossed three bricks of cream cheese into the steel mixing bowl along with six eggs, flour, vanilla, sugar, and frozen raspberries. "You know how much I love Gianna, right?"

  Uh-oh. "Yes…"

  She glanced out the doorway into the storefront. Gianna was still talking on her phone. "Sal, this isn't working."

  I filled a plastic bag with fortune cookies for my father. "All right, I know she's moving slow, but that's to be expected. She's about to have a baby."

  "That's not it. The problem is that she's eating us out of profits." Josie started the mixer and raised her voice slightly to be heard over the whirring. "Every time she sold a cookie this morning, she took one for herself. She's polished off at least a dozen of the fudgy delights. All that sugar isn't good for her or the baby."

  She had a point. I too was worried about Gianna's health and hoped that our talk might help ease her some of her concerns. It didn't help that Nicoletta stopped by their house almost every day with genettis, biscotti, or various dishes of pasta. "This baby gonna know it a hundred percent Italian from day one," she'd grunted.

  Josie removed the steel bowl from the mixer and stirred the contents with a spatula. A sweet smell drifted into the air, and I sniffed it in rapture. "This isn't the Gianna I know," she said. "Maybe something else is bothering her."

  "Gianna's going to be okay," I said. "It's her first baby. Don't you recall how nervous and scared you felt right before you gave birth?"

  "Not really," she admitted. "Rob and I were living with his family back then because he'd gotten laid off. I was more concerned that I might strangle him and his parents before the baby got here."

  You had to admire Josie's candor. She made Gianna's issues seem like a walk in the park compared to what she and Rob had gone through. "Would you mind if we left her in charge for a while? She said it was fine with her, and I could use your help."

  Josie covered the m
ixing bowl and put it in the fridge. "Sure, I can finish these later. Unless Gianna eats the uncooked dough while we're gone."

  "Stop it." I grabbed a sugar cookie off one of the nearby trays and took a bite. It was delicious, but my appetite had disintegrated since last night. I hoped it would return soon. With a sigh, I dumped the rest of it into the garbage.

  Josie shook her head at me. "You never eat when you're upset. It must balance out all those times when you eat an entire cheesecake of your grandmother's since you don't have a weight problem."

  "I'm at least fifteen pounds heavier than you," I pointed out.

  She shrugged. "What can I say? I do so much baking that it kills my appetite for sweets."

  How I wish I had that problem. "Will you come with me? To do a little sleuthing?"

  Josie's eyes gleamed. "You're looking for the gunmen, aren't you? I had a feeling that you were up to something."

  "I'm not sure. Something doesn't add up from last night. Brian and Adam talked to the customers and employees at the mini-mart, and along with information Mike added, it's possible that Trevor could have been killed on purpose."

  "Get out!" Gianna was standing in the doorway, rubbing her belly, cookie crumbs all over her chest. "Were they trying to kill Mike too? And why?"

  "We don't have all the details yet," I confessed. "But Mike said that the gunmen acted like they knew Trevor. They talked to him before they shot him."

  "Maybe they were following Trevor," Josie suggested. "What if he and Mike did a job for them and screwed it up?"

  This almost made me laugh. "My husband does not screw up jobs, Jos. And I've never heard of anyone shooting someone for putting in a leaky faucet." I clenched my hands at my sides. "This does make me wonder how much Mike knew about Trevor, though." Maybe Trevor had been involved in something shady. Would he have tried to involve Mike as well? But if my husband had known, he would have fired him immediately. Mike had no tolerance for that type of behavior from an employee. Plus, he had a business reputation to protect.

  "There are a few job sites that Trevor ordered parts for. One is a house over on Reynolds Way in Colgate." I turned back to my sister. "We'll only be gone about an hour. Twenty minutes there and back and a few minutes to check out the house. Are you sure you don't mind staying here alone? I could call Mickey and see if he can come in to help for a while." Mickey was our part-time delivery guy but in a pinch, he would wait on customers, too.

  Gianna frowned and shook her head. "Don't bother. I'm fine." She watched me thoughtfully. "Sal, do you think Trevor could have been stealing money from Mike?"

  My sister, always the attorney. While she defended her clients to the best of her ability, she also knew that sometimes they didn't tell her the complete truth. Like Grandma Rosa, though, she usually managed to worm it out of them. Gianna had learned to never let her guard down, and in a sense, so had I after all the near brushes with death I'd experienced. "It's…possible. Mike's invoices and work orders have left me with some serious questions to be answered."

  Josie grabbed her jacket off one of the brass hooks on the wall. "Your partner in crime is here and ready to assist." She narrowed her eyes at Gianna. "The sugar cookies on the trays need to be frosted when I get back. They're for a delivery, so please make sure that they stay untouched."

  Gianna's mouth fell open in surprise, and she put her hands on her hips. "What exactly are you trying to say?"

  I grabbed Josie's arm and pulled her toward the back door. "Ah, Josie means don't let Mickey eat them if he comes in. He's addicted to sugar cookies. Thanks, Gi!"

  As soon as we were in the car, I turned to my friend. "Please don't upset her. She's an emotional roller coaster these days."

  "Well, she's almost as big as one too," Josie remarked, and then her face reddened. "Hey, I don't mean to be mean, Sal, but let's face facts here. She's not going to have a 60-pound baby. It's not easy taking all that weight off."

  I glanced at Josie in her size six jeans and said nothing. Josie had never gained more than twenty pounds with any of her pregnancies. Normal weight gain was between 25 and 35 pounds for most women. Josie was the type you didn't even know was pregnant until she was about eight months along.

  It wasn't fair to make comparisons between the two women. Josie didn't have an easy childhood and had become a mother at a young age. Her pregnancy wasn't planned, same as Gianna's. But she'd never had the support that Gianna did. My parents had been forced into a shotgun-style wedding when my mother became pregnant with my brother, who had died at birth. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me. I was the only one who would have gladly welcomed a pregnancy, planned or not, even during my first marriage to cheating Colin. That's how desperate I'd always been to have a baby.

  "She has a lot going on in her life, and it doesn't help that Mrs. Gavelli is ticked about her and Johnny not setting a wedding date yet. My mother keeps hinting at it too."

  "Yeah, I know. Nicoletta as a grandmother-in-law is the stuff nightmares are made of." Josie checked her phone. "What are you hoping to find at this house? From the information I can see on Google Maps, it looks like this is a regular residential neighborhood."

  "Yes, my godmother lived there for years. I honestly don't know what I expect to find." What was Trevor hiding? Had he done the entire job without Mike's knowledge?

  We pulled onto Reynolds Way and found number 55 at the end of the road. The house appeared to be new. It was an attractive, light blue Cape Cod with red shutters and built-in flower boxes, which I imagined would be pretty in the summer. A silver Honda Civic was parked in the driveway and I pulled up behind it.

  Josie's blue eyes became large and round. "What are you doing? Are we actually going to the door?"

  I shut off the engine. "I need to find out what's the deal between this house and Trevor."

  The snow had stopped for the moment, although we were supposed to get a few more inches later. I tried not to let the weather bother me. There were more important things to worry about.

  We climbed the two concrete steps of the small porch, which had been cleared of snow. A dark blue, straw welcome mat was positioned in front of the door. I rang the bell. After a few seconds, a young woman with long, black hair opened it, keeping the chain in place as she peered out at us. "Sorry. We don't allow solicitors here."

  "We're not selling anything." I had to stop and think about what to say next. Excuse me, why was Trevor Parks signing for supplies at your house? Supplies that my husband paid for?

  Josie, sensing my hesitation, jumped right in. "Um, we were driving by and admiring your house. I've actually been looking for one just like it."

  The woman's rounded face creased with suspicion. "Okay, what is this? Are you real estate agents? We moved in last month, and we're not looking to sell. Sorry to disappoint you."

  "Hold on." I held up a hand. She looked annoyed but propped a hand on her hip, waiting for me to proceed. "Okay, I'll level with you," I lied. "My mother's a real estate agent, and she had a client who wanted this house. They thought the winning bid belonged to them, and then suddenly my mother was told by the owner that it was no longer available."

  The woman looked at me like I was a moron. "That's impossible. This house was custom built for my husband and me. We bought it from the man who actually built it."

  "Was his name Trevor Parks?"

  She shook her head. "I don't know anyone by that name."

  This didn't make any sense. "What about Mike Donovan of Donovan's Construction? Did he do any work on the house?"

  Her nostrils flared, and I knew the questions were starting to irritate her. "No. I've never heard of him or his company. Are you in construction too?"

  I shook my head. "I'm Mike's wife—Sally Donovan. I own a bakery in Colwestern."

  "Oh, sure. Sally's Samples, right? Great cookies. That place is always in the newspaper. Lots of weird stuff going on there."

  Tell me about it. "Would you give me the name of the company that performed the
work on your house?"

  "We bought it from a man named David Webb. He built the house himself. It was finished in January, and we moved in last month."

  It seemed like we'd reached a dead end. "Oh. Well, I guess we misunderstood." I was about to thank her for her time when I noticed the Colwestern Journal still sitting in the mail slot next to the door. "One more thing, and then we'll be on our way. Can I show you a picture of someone—in your newspaper? Perhaps you could tell me if it's the same man, David Webb?"

  She let out a small sigh of exasperation but undid the chain on the door. She was dressed in a black T-shirt and matching yoga pants, her wispy hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail. A white hand towel was wrapped around her neck, and it looked as if we'd disturbed her exercise routine. "What's really going on here?" she demanded.

  "We need to ask this David guy some questions," Josie said. "He may have been involved in some shady dealings."

  I pulled the paper out of the box. The woman waited for me to locate the picture, tapping her foot against the dark blue carpeting with a steady beat. I pointed at the picture of Trevor on the front page. "Is this the man you bought the house from?"

  She studied the photo of Trevor closely and bit into her lower lip. I flashed Josie a triumphant smile. Bingo. We have a winner.

  To my surprise, the woman shook her head. "No. It's not David."

  The wind quickly went out of my sails. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive." She folded the paper and stuck it underneath her arm. "This guy definitely worked on my house, though. I never knew his name, but I remember David once referred to him as his business partner."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Josie watched me anxiously as I steered my car through the busy early afternoon traffic. "Sal, are you okay?"

  I stopped for a red light and gripped the steering wheel tightly between my hands for support. "No, I'm not okay. How am I supposed to tell my husband that I think his one employee—a man he trusted and thought of as a friend—might have been going behind his back and stealing from him? Was Trevor building other houses with Mike's money?"