Sprinkled in Malice Page 8

  "You don't know for certain," Josie remarked. "Maybe Mike knew about the job. Laura said that her husband was more involved in the details of the house than she was. She only stopped by a couple of times while the work was going on, and that's when she saw Trevor. Maybe Mike was there as well, working on the house, but she never met him. It might all be legit."

  I had my doubts. From what Mike had told me, Trevor didn't have two nickels to rub together. Yet this David Webb guy had referred to him as his business partner? Laura Pusatere, the woman we'd spoken to, told us we could talk to her husband, Evan, if we wanted more information. Evan worked as a manager at the local Ford dealership and usually wasn't home until after seven o'clock at night. She mentioned that he had a contact number for David. I didn't understand exactly how he fit into the picture. She also told us that Evan had tried to call David last week and he'd never returned the call. That didn't come as a total surprise if he and Trevor had been ripping people off together. He'd probably skipped town.

  I pulled my car into the alley behind the bakery. "I'm going to have to tell Mike and don't want to do that right now. He's in a lot of pain, and this won't help his recovery." Regardless, he'd be even more upset if he discovered I'd tried to keep it from him. The sorrow I'd experienced for Trevor before was quickly turning to anger. "Why would he take advantage of Mike like that? Mike was good to him. He even gave Trevor an advance on his pay a couple of times. The gunmen who killed him—could they have been in on it with Trevor as well? Was this David guy one of them?"

  Josie turned to face me. "It's possible, I guess. Where would you even start to look for answers? Does Brian have any ideas?"

  I hesitated, searching for words. "I'm not sure that Brian will be working on this case any longer. He may be going back to Boston soon, so it's probably best that I don't bother him."

  She watched my face carefully for a moment, and then hers dawned with recognition. A small smile played on her lips. "Shut up. He's still in love with you, isn't he? I knew it! I thought that living with Ally meant that he'd moved on and—"

  "We're so not talking about this," I said evenly. "It's his life, and I don't want to be involved."

  She cocked her head to the side and studied me. "Hate to say it, but you're already involved, love, whether you want to be or not."

  My entire life was a mess. "I need to get back to the hospital. Somehow, with or without Brian's help, I've got to track down Trevor's relatives and start talking to them. I'll start by making a visit to see his girlfriend, Tina." I hated to disturb the woman, especially right after her boyfriend had been killed, but I had to know what was going on.

  "Let me know when you're ready, and I'll go with you. I don't want you going there alone." Josie pulled me into a warm hug.

  "That would be great. Maybe after you close the bakery tonight? I'll have to see how Mike's feeling first, though." I closed my eyes with my head still on her shoulder. No matter what happened, I could always count on Josie. "Thanks for taking care of the bakery." After a few seconds I raised my head again and looked her straight in the eye. "And please—try not to insult my sister. It would be nice if you'd refrain from mentioning how big she's getting."

  Josie blew out a sigh. "Okay, I'll be good. Promise." She got out of the car, and I waited while she unlocked the back door. She blew me a kiss before she disappeared inside.

  Snowflakes started to fall from the sky again as I pulled into the hospital's parking lot. Cripes. Could we have one lousy, stinking day without snow? I slammed the car door in annoyance and desperately tried to pull myself together. It wouldn't help Mike to see how upset I was. The goal was to get him out of the hospital and home to me as soon as possible.

  When I entered his room in the ICU, he was sleeping. Grandma Rosa was sitting next to him, crocheting something that looked like a tiny white sweater—most likely for Gianna's baby. She looked up at me and put a finger to her lips.

  "The nurse said that the doctor will be in very soon," she whispered. "He had some type of emergency, and his rounds got delayed. The nurses have looked in many times, but your poor husband has been very uncomfortable. They gave him something for the pain, and he finally went to sleep a few minutes ago."

  The sight of my big, strong husband looking frail and ill was new, and one that I hoped I'd never have to see again. I wanted desperately to put my arms around Mike and hold him, but he needed his rest. Plus, if I woke him, I'd have to tell him about Trevor, and that was one conversation I didn't mind delaying.

  Grandma Rosa watched me thoughtfully. "What is wrong? Something is bothering you, cara mia."

  I glanced over at Mike. His face was peaceful, and the lines of worry that had been present earlier had faded. His chest rose and fell at a steady pace while his right arm looked painfully awkward in the sling. "I can't talk about it now. Maybe later."

  She nodded, as if she understood. "You have found out something that will make Mike very upset."

  I honestly didn't know how she did it. Grandma Rosa had always had some type of sixth sense about her, as if she could predict the future. Unlike my fortune cookies, she did it in a nicer way, though.

  Before I could say anything further, there was a tap on the door, and Dr. Benson came in. He looked less disheveled than last night, dressed in everyday black trousers and a white polo shirt. He nodded to my grandmother and smiled at me. "How's our patient doing today? My apologies that I couldn't get here any sooner, but I'm certain the nurses took good care of him."

  "He's been in a lot of pain," I said. "When can he go home?"

  The doctor looked down at the chart in his hands. "Possibly tomorrow, or maybe the day after. I understand that he just had Percocet. That should make him sleep for a while. Dr. Snail, our orthopedic specialist, stopped by to see him earlier. His shoulder won't have to be set, but he recommends physical therapy when Mr. Donovan is released. He'll let you know his recommendation—once or twice a week and probably for at least two months. We can give you the names of some excellent therapists in Colwestern to use. Of course, you'll want to see which ones your insurance will cover first."

  "Oh, sure." The chance that my basic health insurance policy even covered physical therapy was slim. A wave of despair washed over me. "Thank you, Doctor."

  "I'll stop by again in the morning to see how he's doing." He gave me another encouraging smile and was gone.

  Mike sighed and stirred in the bed. Unable to help myself, I leaned over and kissed his forehead. He opened his eyes and smiled up at me sleepily. "Am I dreaming, or are you really back?"

  I laughed and kissed him again. "Go back to sleep, sweetheart. Is the medication helping any?"

  He gave a slight nod. "Makes me tired. Did you get a chance to pay the bills?"

  Always business first with my guy. "Yes, everything is taken care of. Uh, Mike."— Since he'd given me an opening, I decided to take it—"did you happen to do work on a house located at 55 Reynolds Way?"

  His eyes remained closed, and for a moment, I thought he'd drifted back off to dreamland. Finally, he shook his head. "Colgate, right? Your godmother—didn't she live there?"

  "Yes. Did you help to build a new house on that street? Or maybe put a foundation in?"

  Mike shook his head again and then opened his eyes. He pinned me with that penetrating dark blue gaze of his. "Never done work there before. Why are you asking?"

  "No reason." Shoot. Why had I bothered to say anything? Mike couldn't—and shouldn't—have to deal with this now. He had to focus on getting better first. "I think Home Depot sent you the wrong bill, that's all." I never knew when to quit. Now I was lying to him. What a great basis for our marriage.

  Grandma Rosa glanced up at me sharply but said nothing. She always knew when I wasn't telling the truth. I remembered that one fateful time at the age of eight when I came home with a candy bar from the local store. My new friend Josie had dared me to take it, and I'd desperately wanted to impress her. My grandmother had seen the offensive Kit Kat
sticking out of my jeans pocket and asked where it had come from. I lied that Josie gave me the money to pay for it. Five minutes later Grandma Rosa had me back at the store apologizing to the owner and returning the candy bar. She then told him that I would be back in the morning to sweep the entire parking lot. After that day, I'd never again taken anything that hadn't belonged to me.

  Mike looked suspicious at first, but then his eyes glazed over, most likely from the medication, and he closed them again. "Love you," he said sleepily before he drifted off.

  I released his hand and turned my face away from my grandmother. She could read it too easily.

  Grandma Rosa stood and patted me on the arm. "Let us go down to the cafeteria for a minute, cara mia. I could use a cup of John."

  "It's Joe, Grandma."

  She made a face. "Whatever."

  We silently rode the elevator to the cafeteria in the basement. Grandma Rosa watched as I selected a carton of milk from the cooler and gave me a questioning look.

  I paid for our drinks. "Since Mike's accident, everything has been upsetting my stomach. I can't eat, sleep, or concentrate on anything—especially now."

  She gestured to a nearby table and sat down. "Tell me, cara mia. What else is wrong?"

  I twisted the napkin between my fingers. "Trevor was stealing from Mike. I found some work orders among his papers that led me to a house over on Reynolds Way. Josie and I went there today and talked to the owner. The woman remembered seeing Trevor working on it, but not Mike. Another man by the name of David Webb sold them the house, and I'm thinking that he may have been in on this with Trevor."

  Grandma Rosa clasped her hands in her lap. "Oh, my dear, no."

  A lump formed in my throat. "He was stealing from us, Grandma. Stealing from Mike's business. This was all a game to him. He didn't care about Mike." I bit into my lower lip, resolving not to cry again. After the last 24 hours, I wasn't sure I had any tears left.

  My grandmother pursed her lips as she sipped her coffee. "It is sad when you cannot trust anyone in this world. How I long for the days when I was a young girl. Everything was so much simpler back then."

  "How am I going to tell him?" I managed to choke out. "This is going to hurt Mike, and he doesn't deserve any more pain. I'm so angry, Grandma. I should be sorry that the man is dead, but all I feel right now is rage towards him and what he's done to us. There's hardly any money left in Mike's account and—"

  I stopped myself right there. I didn't want her to think I was fishing for a loan. She already knew our feelings on the topic, and as far as Mike was concerned, the subject was closed.

  "How much money did he take from you?" she asked gently.

  I shrugged. "No idea. But I intend to find out."

  "Let Mike handle it," she said. "You need to tell him, my dear."

  "No, Grandma! Not yet. Plus, there's more. Brian and I both think that Trevor was intentionally shot and killed last night. Was he involved in something else illegal? What other things did he do to Mike that we don't know about yet?" My voice grew louder, and a couple at a nearby table turned to stare at us.

  "Calm down, cara mia," she said sharply. "It is natural that you are angry. This man has done a terrible thing to your husband—and to you as well. But this is Mike's business. You should tell him what happened right away and let him finish going through the paperwork himself."

  "Grandma," I protested.

  She cut me off. "He is a proud man. How do you think it will make him feel—to learn that his wife discovered the deceit before he did? He is going to feel like a fool that he did not notice this himself."

  My grandmother had a point. I sat there, stirring my straw around in circles, and said nothing.

  "You must tell him, my dear. Let Mike decide how he wants to handle this." She glanced at her watch. "I can stay with Mike for a while longer. Please go home and get some sleep. It is plain to see that you are exhausted. You cannot help your husband get better if you are sick too."

  I rose to my feet and dumped the rest of the milk into the trash. "I have to run over to Mom and Dad's first. He's already texted me three times today about needing emergency fortune cookies."

  She placed her forefinger at the side of her white hair and made a circular motion. "That man is a nutsy cookie. He should have come to get them himself, but they have visitors. You go, my dear. I will stay here with Mike."

  "What visitors?" Maybe he'd invited a group of morticians over for a beer. Nothing surprised me with my parents these days.

  Grandma Rosa rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, something she rarely did. "You will have to go and see for yourself."

  "Wonderful." I wasn't sure I had the strength to deal with my father's latest antics. "Does it have anything to do with the book?"

  "Of course," she said. "When does it not? But that reminds me of something else. I am going to move in with you and Mike for a while so that I can help you take care of him when he comes home."

  My mouth dropped open in amazement. "Grandma, it's wonderful of you to offer, and we'd be happy to have you, but it's not necessary. We'll be all right."

  "Yes," she said. "You will, but I am a far better nurse than you, cara mia. Plus, you have a business to run. Mike will need someone to cook for him and help change bandages while he gets his strength back. I know you want to be with your husband, but you also need to be at the bakery." Her warm brown eyes regarded me fondly. "I understand that money is tight."

  I swallowed hard. "We'll manage."

  She patted my hand. "I know this. And I know you, cara mia. You will not rest until you find out who did this to your husband."

  "He almost died last night." Tears sprang into my eyes again. "His employee was killed, and I'm certain it wasn't a random shooting." A terrifying thought seized me. "Those men who killed Trevor—what if somehow they're also privy to Mike's private information? Bank account or credit card numbers?" Dear God. Could they have somehow managed to get his social security number as well? "I have to find these guys."

  My grandmother nodded. "It is settled then. I will move in when Mike comes home."

  "Grandma, I appreciate this more than you know. But you have a life too." I'd love having her there and knew that Mike would too. Mike had never known his grandparents and adored my grandmother like she was his own. Still, I felt like I depended on her too much of the time. My entire family did.

  She laughed. "Cara mia, it is fine. This will be like a vacation for me."

  "A vacation? What are you talking about?"

  Grandma Rosa smiled. "Anytime I can have a few days away from your parents, it can be considered a vacation."

  It was hard to argue with that logic.

  CHAPTER NINE

  On my way out of the hospital's main doors, I ran straight into Brian. My head was down as I attempted to pull on my gloves, and I wasn't watching where I was going. After I brushed against his coat, he stooped down to pick the gloves up off the floor then pinned me with that brilliant green gaze of his. Talk about your awkward moments.

  "Hi, Sally. How's Mike doing today?" he asked.

  "Better, thanks," I said. "Were you planning to talk to him? They gave him something for the pain, and he's asleep."

  Brian stroked the unshaved stubble on his chin. "Oh. Well, I don't want to disturb him. I guess I could come back later."

  "Okay. If you'll excuse me, I have to—"

  "Do you have a minute to talk? It's about the robbery," he added quickly.

  So, he didn't intend to chat about yesterday's heartfelt discussion, for which I was eternally grateful. I couldn't worry about Brian right now. There was too much else going on in my life. "No problem."

  We stood in the hallway by the emergency room entrance. A nurse walked past us and smiled at Brian.

  "Hi, Julie," he said.

  "I don't think Ally's here yet," Julie said as she gave me a questioning look.

  Brian cleared his throat. "Yeah, right. She's working later tonight. Thanks."

/>   After Julie had walked on, I leaned against the wall. "You must know all the staff here."

  Brian gave me a wan smile. "Pretty much. The nurses at this hospital are a tight bunch. I get the feeling that I'm talked about a lot and may not have many fans left after they hear about the powwow Ally and I had last night."

  It sounded like they hadn't made up yet, but I didn't dare ask. "Getting back to the robbery. Did you find the gunmen?"

  He shook his head. "The car they were seen leaving in, a 2005 Buick Regal, was abandoned a few miles from here. Turns out it was stolen from another grocery store last night—probably right before the heist, we're guessing."

  "A dead end." I shut my eyes and sighed. "I might have a lead."

  The hallway was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. After a few seconds I opened my eyes to find Brian watching me intently, the way a cat does a mouse before it pounces. "Please go on," he said.

  I blew out a breath. "Well, I haven't told Mike this yet, but while I was going through his bills earlier, I became suspicious about a couple of things, so I asked for work orders from the supply places. To make a long story short, it looks like Trevor was doing his own construction jobs, specifically a new home at 55 Reynolds Way in Colgate. He was kind enough to let Mike foot the bills for the supplies as well."

  Brian's eyes resembled shiny headlights in size. "Wow. Sally, I'm sorry this is happening to you guys. We're trying to find out about Trevor's past, but Tina either doesn't know anything or is staying mum. We were finally able to reach Erica, his ex-wife, by phone, and she was shocked to hear the news. She's headed back to Colwestern tonight. She was not happy to learn that the wake is already scheduled for tomorrow and no one had bothered to consult her."

  "Well, they're not married anymore, so I can't imagine why she thought she'd be asked." No one had asked for my opinion when Colin had died, five months after our divorce was finalized. "Who arranged it?"