by Gerald Lopez
“Good evening. My name is Sophia, I’m your hostess. Welcome to Cicero’s, you must be Mr. Shayne.”
“News travels fast,” I said.
She smiled. “If you’ll follow me please. In a small town like this, visitors are big news. We don’t get many, and it’s rare to see a new face. Mrs. Carter is already seated.”
Confused, I reached for my cell phone to check the time, but Sophia held my hand back. “You’re not late, Mr. Shayne. Mrs. Carter is always at least fifteen minutes early. I’m guessing it makes her feel she has an edge over those she’s meeting.”
She laughed and put her hand on my shoulder as we passed the full bar. The room was very nice. It was fairly large with a glass wall and door in the back, through which diners could see a deck and bayou. I looked toward the one row of booths against the right wall and saw a female sitting alone, presumably Mrs. Carter. Her streaked-blonde hair was wavy and worn just above her shoulders. She was attractive with only minimal makeup, allowing her healthy-looking skin and pale tan to shine. The woman looked good for fifty-nine. I’d managed to do a little research on her but discovered little more than her age.
Sophia led me to the table and Mrs. Carter stood to shake my hand and introduce herself. She was an inch taller than me, making her at least six foot two, and she was wearing flats. My client was nothing, if not chic and professionally dressed in an expensive black jacket and slim-fitted black pants. Underneath the jacket she wore a cream colored shell top. I had always been grateful to my cousin Lynette for teaching me how to size up a woman, or anyone for that matter, by the way they dressed. Nine times out of ten Lynette was right on target and my odds were about the same.
“Enjoy your evening. Someone will be by to take your drink order,” Sophia said before leaving.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you face to face, Mr. Shayne. I’ve meant to ask about your name, but haven’t had the chance until now. You have a very interesting first name. What is its origin?”
“It’s very nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Carter. The name Layton was my great grandfather’s last name on my mother’s side of the family. So it sounds like I have two last names because, in fact, I do.”
Mrs. Carter smiled and I found it to be genuine. For someone so professional she was also surprisingly down to earth. There was no putting on airs with her. Score another one for my training from cousin Lynette. Mrs. Carter was expensively dressed, but not in a vulgar way. She was classy, yet accessible. The clothes matched the personality very well.
A slender young lady with a sandy-blonde ponytail and Mediterranean complexion came to take our drink order. She wore a white blouse with a black knee-length skirt.
“Hello, my name’s Anjelica. May I take your drink order?”
Mrs. Carter glanced over at me. “Would you mind if I took the liberty of ordering for the both of us?”
“Please do,” I said.
“A bottle of the Antinori Tignanello.”
Anjelica excused herself to get our order.
“I’m impressed. Even with my limited knowledge of wine I’ve heard that name,” I said. In fact, I have almost no knowledge of wines—fine or otherwise. Just what I’d picked up here and there from hearing others speak of it, although I’d actually heard of the wine she’d just ordered.
“Are you impressed with my knowledge of wine, or by the fact that you can find it in a small, secluded place like Shelby?” Mrs. Carter said.
“A little of both I suppose. But I haven’t seen all of Shelby yet, have I? For a place like this to be here, there must be the clientele to support it. And I haven’t made it past the small downtown and my motel.”
“Well then I won’t spoil the surprise for you, Layton. May I call you Layton or am I being a bit presumptuous?”
“Layton is fine.”
“You didn’t ask to call me by my first name. Thank you for the professional courtesy. It’s appreciated, especially in this day and age. My first name is Leticia and I’d be pleased if you’d use it.”
“Thank you, Leticia. You’re right about the lack of courtesy today. I have to admit it does bother me when people refer to me by my first name when I’m paying for groceries with a credit card or showing my license somewhere. It presumes a closeness that isn’t there, as well as being unprofessional and discourteous.”
Anjelica arrived with the wine, giggling slightly. “Please excuse me,” she said. “I’m having a hard time getting a handle on the giggles tonight. Everyone in the kitchen seems to be in the same mood which makes it not only worse, but contagious.” After opening the wine, she handed Leticia the cork. I took the opportunity to ask a question.
“Anjelica, are you related to the hostess Sophia? In looks, you could be sisters.”
She smiled and turned to me. “Thank you for noticing. So many people are thrown off by our different coloring, but we are indeed sisters. May I pour?” she said, turning to face Leticia, who nodded in response.
I had another question to ask. “Are there enough Italians here to support this restaurant? Or maybe enough fans of Italian food.”
“There are some very wealthy Italian families here, and they usually bring their own staff from Italy. My mother and father were invited to come here from Florida years ago, specifically to open this restaurant. They had some big fans with deep pockets, as they say.”
She giggled again, then excused herself to go.
“When I was her age I remember getting a case of those giggles occasionally. Mostly when there was a handsome man in the room,” Leticia said.
I smiled, and watched Leticia give me a strange look before I sampled the wine and gave it two thumbs up.
“I guess you approve of my choice in wine,” Leticia said.
“I do indeed.”
A slim, tanned waiter walked up and handed us our menus. He was sporting a light brown crew cut, and a smile so big he looked like he might start giggling like Anjelica.
“Hello, my name’s Jimmy and I’ll be your waiter. Let me take a moment to go through our house specials for this evening.”
There was a lot I didn’t recognize, which I assumed was the nouvelle cuisine part, so I looked through the menu for something familiar. I settled on the veal parmigiana, as did Leticia. For an appetizer we ordered another old, familiar item, garlic bread with melted cheese. As Jimmy left to place our order I could have sworn he winked at me with his sparkling, hazel eyes. Leticia and I engaged in small talk until the garlic bread arrived. It was in a round shape like a small pizza drenched in warm cheese and cut into small slices. Jimmy put two small plates on the table, then served us each an easily manageable piece of garlic bread before excusing himself. We both dug right in.
“I feel like we’re indulging tonight with this treat of garlic bread. But it’s so good,” Leticia said.
“I agree.”
“What do you think of the areas of Shelby you’ve seen so far, Layton?”
“I find it different than I would have thought, Leticia. No one here speaks with a Creole accent and there are some very interesting visitors.”
“Oh, yes. Miss Lucy said she’d find a way to bump into you before she left town. She’s quite the character.”
“And here I thought our meeting was coincidental.”
“Miss Lucy was probably informed the moment you turned onto the road to Shelby. Knowing your truck’s air conditioning wasn’t working, she guessed your first stop would be the convenience store. Before you ask, she has friends who saw you driving with your windows down.”
“It’s a shame she didn’t tell me the name of her friends,” I said.
“Miss Lucy didn’t divulge her friends’ names to me either. I’m told some may make themselves known to you, should it be deemed necessary. Rest assured, you may not know them, but they do know you. Layton, I did tell you a little about this case on the phone, didn’t I?”
“Yes. You told me this was a case involving the inheritance of a local estate. It should be simple,
but it’s not, is it?”
“As you said, it should be, but it isn’t. As I discussed with you on the phone, the Kennedy estate has three possible heirs. A son and two daughters. Unfortunately, it’s not clear as to who should inherit it.”
“If there’s no will, shouldn’t it automatically go to the eldest child?” The garlic bread was calling to me and I took another piece while offering one to Leticia, who nodded her head, yes. She sipped some of her wine before turning her attention back to me.
“That’s the problem, Layton. There is not one will, but three that we know of and reputedly there’s a fourth. The Kennedy property is an extremely important one and the people I represent are anxious for it to go to the rightful heir or heiress.”
“Interesting. Rightful heir as in ‘lawful’ heir or as in who your people want to inherit the property,” I said.
“Rightful heir. I’d be lying if I said my people didn’t have an outcome they prefer, but they’re prepared to deal with whoever is the rightful heir. The outcome of your investigation must be honest and above reproach, that’s the important thing.”
“That really must be an extremely important property. You said earlier you had arranged for me to meet with the family.”
Conversation stopped when Jimmy returned with our entrées. A busboy beside him picked up our dirty dishes. As he was leaving, he glanced over at me and quickly looked me up and down. I was starting to feel like the entrée myself. Leticia noticed too, and she shot me a glance with a wide, Cheshire cat grin on her face. Jimmy set down our entrées and then offered Leticia cheese, once she said yes he grated it on top of her veal until she said stop. As he was adding grated cheese to my entrée, he managed to purposely lock eyes with me for a moment.
“Stop. That’s enough for now,” I said, wondering if he took the hint. He smiled to show that he did, then excused himself.
“Well, it’s easy to see what, or rather who, our servers think the catch of the day is, Layton. You do realize that’s also why Anjelica was giggling. My guess would be that you’re the prize that the staff here are hoping to reel in.”
“They are a little obvious, but they’re just having some harmless fun. It’s flattering at my age,” I said. The situation was almost too funny and I found myself unable to hold back a grin and a laugh.
Leticia sat back and looked at me. This was prompting me to grin and comment.
“Leticia, are you sitting there taking in the greatness that is Layton Shayne?” I laughed.
She got serious and started cutting into her entrée as she spoke. “You are a handsome and attractive man. Age has nothing to do with attraction. To be blunt, our servers see a handsome man they would love to go home with and that’s probably it. However, the Kennedy family needs to see more than that when you meet with them. They are used to people who, in their vernacular, are ‘a cut above’.”
Jimmy returned with water to refill our glasses while Leticia was still speaking. “To be frank, the way you look now won’t work for your meeting with the Kennedy family.”
“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Jimmy said, before quickly walking away. He was obviously flustered.
“Well, I couldn’t have timed it better if I’d tried,” Leticia said. “The reaction of our waiter says it all. The Kennedy family provokes reactions because of who they are. You simply can’t meet with them dressed as you are. And I doubt you have a better jacket than the one you are now wearing. Sorry, if I’m being too blunt, Layton.”
“No, you’re right. This is my best jacket. I have a nice leather one, but it won’t fit the bill either. Back home it was good enough for working the farm and doing detective work, but I’m outclassed here at least in terms of clothing and appearance. It’s best to be honest about important things like these. How are you getting me in to meet with the family and what will they expect?”
“Good. I like the way you think, Layton. It makes things easier. The siblings believe you’re a private investigator working with their law firm to find the estate’s true heir, which is basically the truth. I’ve been in Shelby a while now in the guise of helping the family lawyer. We have him safely sequestered in a religious retreat where any sources of outside communication, such as cell phones and laptops are banned. The lawyer has the mistaken belief that the stress of his current occupation has caused certain problems with his health and a retreat was in order before he suffered another… let’s just say… ‘attack’. It was easy to get the proper paperwork to introduce myself around town as his personal assistant. Everyone involved is anxious to have the estate settled, but some are more than a little unscrupulous. You need to find out how many possible heirs there may be with legitimate claims on the estate and then you need to find the one true heir. It’s time things here were settled.”
“And about my appearance?”
Leticia finished a bite of food she had in her mouth and took a drink of wine before speaking.
“I have an appointment set up for you at the local men’s clothing store. They’ll probably have to rush hemming the pants and taking in the jacket as needed, but they’ve been paid nicely for that and they’ll do a good job. I rather like your hair long, it works well with your impressive bone structure and strong chin. By the time we leave here there will be a more suitable car waiting at the motel for you. It’s a company car for your use while you’re here. Your blue truck just wouldn’t do for meeting with the Kennedy family.”
Leticia reached into the briefcase that had been beside her and pulled out a large Manila envelope which she handed me. “Everything you’ll need is in here, including the keys to the company car and the appointment card with the clothing store for your new suit. There’s also some spending money inside. You may need to do some wining and dining of people.”
I took the envelope, not bothering to open it as a gesture. It wasn’t lost on her.
“Thank you for the trust,” she said.
Leticia placed her knife and fork in an x across her now empty plate. She wiped her mouth and held her hand out for me to shake, which I did. She grabbed her briefcase and purse and stood, so I stood also.
“I enjoyed meeting with you, Layton. You’re very much what I expected, and I have high hopes you’ll solve this case quickly. We won’t be meeting again until this is all over.”
“Thank you for liking my hair.” I smiled. “It’s my rebellious streak from having been in the military and—you know—the forced buzz cut.”
Leticia smiled back. “No need to see me out. Please stay, finish the wine and have dessert.” She leaned in to whisper the next part. “Enjoy your admirers, it’s always nice to have some.”
With that she walked away and I sat back down and had some water. I’d had just enough wine with Leticia to be cordial. Jimmy came back and asked to take my plate. I nodded and wondered what surprises dessert might bring now that I was dining alone.
Chapter 3
A Bang-up Affair
“Would you like to see the dessert menu, Sir?” Jimmy said.
“The name’s Layton, and yes, I would.”
Jimmy promptly brought back a small menu with several interesting choices. I finally settled on the Torta di Zabaglione.
“Good choice, Sir. I mean, Layton. It’s one of my favorite desserts. The recipe came from Venice. I’ll have that right out to you.”
He gave me a long searching look. There was a definite attraction. Sex was something I hadn’t needed since I moved out of the farmhouse, but as Jimmy left, I took a moment to check him out—not bad. I sipped my water while waiting for him to return. Dessert was more of an indulgence than the garlic bread with cheese, but I love tasting new things. The swamp outside the windows looked quiet and serene until there was a flash of blue light in the distance. It distracted me until Jimmy arrived with the dessert.
“Did you happen to see that blue flash off in the distance, Jimmy?”
“Sorry, Layton, I was in the kitchen. It was probably someone’s fancy boat
lights.”
He set my dessert down in front of me and it looked delicious. I gave him my best flirty smile as I spoke. “I’d invite you to join me, but you’re on the job.”
“I hope the invite still holds for later,” he said.
We both smiled as he left. God, he was young! Legal, of that I was sure, but young. It had been a while, but I usually preferred older men. I guess nowadays, at thirty-five, I’m the older man. The dessert tasted as good as it looked. The filling was a luscious and thick zabaglione cream, the sponge cake portion was soft and fresh, and the meringue pieces on top were crisp. It was just the right amount of sweet and absolute perfection. Jimmy stopped by as soon as I’d finished both my glass of water and dessert.
“How was it?”
“You can see how much I hated it,” I said, pointing to a completely empty plate. “The filling was so good I could just imagine licking it off a lover in bed.” Wow. I must’ve had more to drink than I’d thought to come up with that one.
Jimmy blushed. “Mrs. Carter put the meal on her account, as well as a generous tip.”
He bent down to whisper in my ear. “You might want to visit the bathroom, Layton. You’ve got something on your face.”
He then walked off to the kitchen. I got up and walked to the bathrooms which were to the right. The men’s room was impressive. Granite tile on the vanity, expensive fixtures, and tiled walls. I was looking in the mirror when I heard the bathroom door open. Jimmy walked in and locked the door behind him.
