We don't speak while we eat. The only sounds are the humming of the cooler's motor and Kevin's food groans.
I stop chewing before him but decide to grab a shrimp or two from the tortellini salad and open that tray as well.
Kevin's eyes widen, and soon he's forking the artichoke hearts and cheese-filled pasta. I guess that's two trays of food I'm paying for. It's fine. What's not though is being stuck in here.
I allowed myself to not think about it while I ate, but I can no longer ignore it. Not that I have a plan of escape though. I walk over to the far wall and grab a bottle of water for myself.
"We have water and Coke products. Sorry, no beer," I say.
"Water is fine."
When I come back and hand it to him, he says, "I've given up drinking."
"Seriously?" I sit back down.
He nods and twists open the cap.
"Good for you. Is this because of Hilary?"
"No. I technically stopped last year, although I had a drink the night you took my keys from me. Smart move, by the way, and thank you. I hadn't realized one Scotch would hit me so hard."
"You're welcome. Why did you decide to stop?"
He doesn't look my way while talking, and now he hunches over more and stares at the terracotta-colored floor tiles. "I am sorry for how I treated you last year. In your apartment."
I almost fall off my crate. Two apologies over the same incident. He really means it.
"The next day I was ashamed of my actions. I never should have accused you of seeing ghosts. I mean, that's ridiculous. I should have known Hilary was lying."
I bite my lower lip.
His voice thickens. "And I especially shouldn't have put my hands on you. I've regretted it every day since."
Whoa!
I appreciate him saying this, but… "Why didn't you say something then? Why wait?"
He's still not looking up. His posture reminds me of a child's when they're getting scolded. "I couldn't admit it then. My therapist says it's my ego."
Double whoa!
"You're seeing a therapist?"
He finally looks up, and there's a vulnerability on his face I've never seen before. "Don't laugh."
I frown and shake my head. "Why would I? I think that's great. I saw one after Craig died. Remember him?"
Craig was my ex-fiancé and the reason I'd left my home and moved to Connecticut several years ago. A car had struck his, and Kevin had had the evil audacity to accuse me of getting him killed. Like I magically steered the offending vehicle at the man I loved.
Kevin winces. "Oh yeah, I remember, and I'm sorry for adding to your grief about that too."
Wow, this therapist must be a miracle worker. Maybe I should get their number so they can help me figure out what's going on between Julian and me, what I truly want, and what's holding me back from the life I envisioned for us.
"All of these years, I never meant to hurt you," he says.
"You've had a funny way of showing it." The cold is seeping into my sandals, and I curl my toes.
"I know. I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you. It wasn't fair."
Hmm, he definitely seems in tune with himself now.
"And this is why you've been nice for the past few months?"
He grins, and his whole face lights up. "I've been trying."
"So do you know why you treated me like a punching bag?"
He winces. "Ouch. You haven't exactly been kind and friendly either."
This is true.
"But I take responsibility for all of it. I know my actions were the catalyst for your cutting remarks. I must admit that you have an acidic tongue." He smiles, so I take it as a compliment.
"Thank you."
We chuckle.
When the laughter subsides, he clears his throat. "Um, this isn't easy to admit, but apparently it will help me move on."
I assume that's something his therapist told him.
"So I guess I've been projecting my feelings for you in an unhealthy manner." He looks at me, and I'm very careful to not wear my thoughts on my face.
"Oh?" is all I squeak out. I know what's coming. Hilary was right. Kevin does have feelings for me. This is not good.
"Hilary has been accusing me of being in love with you."
My eyes widen, and my brows shoot up toward my hairline. Okay, so I tried to not let them show.
"I'm not. Don't worry."
I let out a shaky breath and try to go back to being emotionless. It will not be easy though.
"I liked you when we were kids," he says.
I don't remind him that he was a teenager and that I was a kid. A tween but still.
"And I guess I got upset that you didn't like me back."
"We're five years apart, Kevin. I was in junior high when Izzie got pregnant and you and Alice's father were hanging at our house. You guys were cool because you were older, but I was a kid."
He nods, but I'm not sure if it's something he truly thought about until now. "Yeah, you're right, but back then, I didn't think of that. You looked older than twelve. You were hot."
I open my mouth to say something and freeze. He seems to do the same, and we're both saying, "Eww," at the same time.
I laugh and a bunch of nervous giggles escape my mouth.
He holds up a hand. "Wait, that came out wrong. I don't, now as a man, think you were hot in seventh grade. I thought you were cute when we were kids."
I laugh some more. "I know what you meant."
He looks instantly relieved. "But you only had eyes for Michael."
I sigh. "I probably had a crush on him most of my childhood, even when we weren't close. That ended badly because of Hilary."
Kevin rolls his eyes and stands up. "Yeah, I know all about it. Well, at least her version. She wouldn't shut up about how her one little mistake ruined your friendship."
"She called it a mistake?" I ask.
"Yeah. She knew she was wrong."
Really? I'm not sure if I'm pleased to hear this or more angry that she hasn't said anything to me all of these years or even now that she's dead. Seems these two were the perfect match when it comes to not dealing with mistakes they made. I should probably throw myself into that mix. I know my feelings were valid for pushing her away when she betrayed me, but maybe everyone else is right too. It has been ten years.
"So…Michael," I say.
"Ouch," he says and visibly winces. "He's the last person I want to think about."
"You didn't know about the two of them?"
He paces. "No, not at all. And no, I didn't kill her because she was cheating on me. Our marriage wasn't…normal."
"Did you love her?"
He glances over his shoulder at me. "She always accused me of not loving her."
I know. That's where the question comes from.
"And?"
He sighs and rubs his chin. "I don't know. We dated when she was in college, so I cared for her, but it wasn't passionate, so maybe not."
"Why did you marry her, then?" I ask. They wedded within the first week that I'd returned to South Shore Beach, and part of me always wondered if I had anything to do with that.
He stops pacing and just stands there.
I shake my head. "Please don't tell me I was part of that reason."
"Okay, I won't."
Ugh!
"Kevin, you don't marry a woman when you have someone else on your mind." My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, and I'm equally annoyed that Hilary was right. I was seriously hoping she had exaggerated.
"I know. I made so many mistakes, and now I just want to make them right." His words feel heartfelt. I believe him. I also believe that he didn't kill his wife.
"It's a shame you didn't have this foresight before she died. The two of you could have ended your marriage amicably."
"I don't think she wanted to be friendly anymore. I know I hurt her, and I wish I could tell her how sorry I am for my part in it all, but she was far from forgiving m
e. I'm not blaming her, but she seemed to enjoy instigating arguments too."
Based on the very little I'd seen and her attitude since dying, I understand what he means. I assumed it was just because she's dead. I'm sure not living your life anymore is depressing and makes a ghost angry. I'd be upset. But I guess her feelings were around since before her death. It explains Brenda overhearing Hilary fighting with Michael that night.
It's a shame Hilary isn't here now to hear all Kevin is saying. Maybe it would help her move on.
"Well, I can't speak for her or what's his face, but I am truly sorry, Gianna."
He kneels before me. "Do you think you can forgive me?"
I'm so taken aback by his request, his honesty, and his physical position that I'm speechless.
He shakes his head and starts to rise, but I want to give him the same consideration, the same vulnerability, so I lay my hand on his shoulder.
"Wait, I kinda like you groveling." I chuckle and snatch my hand away, realizing that may have come across as flirty. I wish I could take those words back. I don't want to give him the wrong impression.
He half smiles and stays put.
"We have a lot of angry history between us. Some things you did, like accusing me of killing Craig while I was so distraught and grabbing me last fall, are things that I don't know if I can let go of."
He lowers his head.
"But while I may not be okay with them, I am willing to move on."
He looks up with a lopsided grin. "Yeah?"
"I want to trust you, but I may need a bit more time."
He eagerly nods. "Of course. I can prove myself to you."
Are we sure this is the real Kevin Burton?
"I don't like feeling like I'm walking on eggshells around you. We seem to continue to be in each other's orbit a lot."
"You have a knack for stumbling over dead bodies. Like Hilary's."
I glance away. There's no need to confess my abilities to him. I'm willing to move on but not trust him with my secret. At least not yet.
He's still kneeling, and I know the tile is hard and cold. I give him credit. He really wants my forgiveness. That speaks volumes, and maybe I'm willing to meet him closer to the middle.
"What if we simply start over?" I ask.
The look of hope on his rounded mouth and baby blues tightens my chest. I'm happy to comfort someone, but I think of Julian. What if he doesn't understand?
"Seriously? We can do that?" He looks like he's going to burst with excitement soon.
I chuckle and extend my hand to shake on it. "Sure. Let's do that. The past stays there, and from this moment on, we're civil and friendly and honest with each other."
Except about my secret. And maybe some sleuthing if I ever do that again. I mean, there's mutual friendship, and then there's admitting things to cops that you shouldn't. Like Julian's fixer job. Some things Homicide Detective Kevin Burton never needs to know.
"Deal," he says and grips my hand. Instead of shaking though, he raises it to his lips and kisses the back of it.
Before I can even consider flinching and gently pulling back so that I don't insult my new "friend," the cooler door swings open, and Ma and Julian are staring at us.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kevin gets to his feet and faces our saviors. "Mrs. Mancini, it's so good to see you."
Ma is holding a wooden spoon. She hides her surprise well. She's great at masking her facial expressions.
Julian glares at Kevin, then at me, and walks out of the deli.
I jump up and run toward him, but Ma blocks the doorway and raises a brow. "Let him go," she whispers.
I take a step back as Ma tells Kevin she's sorry about his wife's death.
The two of them move on and share pleasantries as I cover the two trays of food, stack them together in my arms, and grab the forks. "I'll pay for these," I say and move toward her again.
This time she lets me out, and I grab my keys from the table and head toward the back door. My thoughts are with Julian and how it must've looked to see Kevin kissing my hand while on his knees. I have no doubt he's upset and hurting. If it had been reversed, I would've felt the same. I would have stuck around for answers though.
"Wait," Ma shouts.
I turn and look at her.
She holds up the spoon she's still carrying. "This was in the cooler handle, preventing it from opening. Do you know anything about that?"
I frown and glance to Kevin, whose brow is shading his eyes as well. "No, of course not. How would I? I was on the inside."
My thoughts rush over one another, trying to figure out how that could have happened.
"What about the back door? Was it open or shut?" I ask.
"Shut. Why?"
Kevin and I exchange worried glances. "I had wedged it open with a stool so that I could let the heat escape while I heated the lasagna."
Ma shakes her head. "I don't understand. How did you get locked in?"
I wish I had an answer.
I tell her what happened, and when I'm done, she's glancing around the kitchen to make sure nothing was stolen. It doesn't look like it. Who would want some old pots and pans? She looks in the freezer, and Kevin calls the station.
I step closer to him. "Do you think this was deliberate?"
He shrugs and talks to whoever answers.
Ma exits the freezer and says everything looks normal.
I set down the pans on a table and tell her we need to check up front. There won't be any money in the register. It's all put into the safe in the locked office at closing, but maybe someone desperately needed napkins or plastic cutlery. Yeah, it sounds lame.
Ma and I step past the swinging kitchen door. She checks out the register and that area of the counter while I walk around and make sure the front door is locked. It is.
"Why did you come back here? Did you know we were trapped?" I ask.
"No. Julian called. He was looking for you, and you weren't answering your phone or door. He was worried. Maybe you'd fallen and couldn't get up. You're not one to sleep through your phone."
He had to have seen Kevin's car out back too. I hate to think of where else his thoughts had gone.
"Pop was snoring, so I said I'd come over and look. Your apartment was empty, and we came down here, and I saw the spoon. You think someone deliberately locked the two of you in there?"
I shrug, and we walk back into the kitchen. "It looks like it."
Ma says a couple of choice words in Italian under her breath as we return to the kitchen.
I have to wonder though. Is it possible that Hilary did this? I'm not sure if her moving skills include wooden sticks in small holes, but maybe she's improved since her flower raining episode earlier today.
"They're sending someone over to dust for prints. We'll need a copy of everyone who has access to the kitchen for elimination. Um, they'll need it," Kevin says and looks away.
He's no longer including himself when he references the cops. That can't be or feel good.
Ma nods. "I should call your father, Enzo, and your sister."
"I don't think there's anything to worry about, Mrs. Mancini. If nothing was taken, it's likely that whoever did this only wanted to lock us up."
He's right. Nothing is out of place. But why? Other than Hilary doing it to be a jerk, I can't imagine what good us being stuck in the cooler is to anyone else.
"It's good to know it wasn't related to the deli," Ma says. "But I'm still worried about my daughter."
That's sweet.
She steps closer to me and narrows her gaze. "Have you been involved in anything? Like looking for Hilary's—"
I cut her off with a fierce shake of my head. "Nope. I'm minding my own business."
She searches my face for my tell. I don't know what it is, but she and Enzo say I have one. We all do. When she's satisfied I'm not lying, she pats my shoulder and turns away.
I don't make lying a habit, but sometimes it's necessary in the ghost industry. I
like to keep my folks' minds at ease as much as possible.
It isn't long before Enzo rushes through the deli's back door. His hair is twisted in every direction, he's in a white T-shirt and blue shorts, and I think I still see sleep in the corner of his eye.
Kevin and Ma fill him in on what happened, and not seconds later, a couple of uniformed officers show up.
I step to the side and let everyone do their thing. I answer questions when asked, but otherwise don't get involved. I keep thinking about Hilary and Julian. I need to speak to both of them, and I have a feeling they're each going to make that difficult.
Crime scene guys are dusting the cooler handle and other surfaces, and Ma is pacing by the kitchen door that leads to up front. Enzo is within a couple of feet of her. He convinces her to let Pop and Izzie sleep. I don't think she was actually going to wake her very pregnant daughter anyway.
At some point, I look up and see Sanchez talking with Kevin. When did he get here?
He looks my way, and I nod. He must take that as a cue I want to speak to him because he comes over. "Miss Mancini, how are you tonight?"
"Okay. Could be better."
He nods and offers a gentle smile. "I imagine this is troubling."
I don't elaborate, and he asks nothing further. We just stand there feeling awkward. At least that's how I feel.
"Do you have any opinions on who did this?" he eventually asks.
"Not a clue." I can't very well say it was a ghost. "Do you think this is related to Hilary's death?"
Sanchez scrunches up his face for a second. "Why would this be connected? Do you know something I don't?"
"No, not at all. I just can't imagine that this was an accident or some random act."
He stands a little straighter and asks, "What do you think happened tonight?"
Oh boy, he actually wants my thoughts. He's never asked me that before.
Still not knowing if Hilary can insert the spoon in the hole, I decide to pretend she's not a suspect. "Well, whoever did this stole nothing, so it sounds deliberate, like they wanted Kevin or me locked in the cooler. I have no enemies."
Diamonds, Pies & Dead Guys Page 13
