Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery)

by Lipperman, Liz

  “She did, Mom, and she loved it,” Alex said, stepping in for her. He winked behind his mother’s back, sending a silent message that her secret was safe with him.

  She’d tasted the lasagna, all right, and it was as delicious as his mother had said, but he’d been the one to cook it. Jordan felt the heat crawl up her face, remembering how he’d seduced her that night with a tray of lasagna and a pitcher of homemade sangria. Thank heavens Natalie Moreland had no idea her great-grandmother’s recipe had been instrumental in what had turned out to be one of the most romantic nights of her life. If for no other reason, Jordan would have to add her own rave review for the dish.

  “We’d better hurry if we want to grab some lunch. I have a meeting in North Dallas with the Italian festival planners at two,” Kate said, impatiently glancing at her watch. “Oh Lord, it’s later than I thought. I’ll have to take a pass and meet up with you all tonight at the party.” She turned to Jordan. “I’ll be working on the festival most of tomorrow, but why don’t we do brunch before I head over to the fairgrounds? We can use the time to get to know each other.” When Jordan nodded, Kate bent down to kiss her mother then stood on tiptoes to reach Alex.

  As Kate was leaving, Jordan took a few minutes to study Natalie Moreland. It was obvious where both Kate and Alex had gotten their good looks. Shorter than her daughter, she had the same olive skin and deep blue eyes. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a crisp, white, sleeveless shirt, she looked as if she could have been his older sister instead of the woman who had given birth to him. Dark blonde hair with lighter highlights framed her perfectly shaped face in an up-to-date style. Jordan was pretty sure that, unlike Alex’s hair, Natalie Moreland’s had come from a bottle at a high price and wasn’t the result of the sometimes brutal Texas sun.

  Natalie entwined her arm with Jordan’s. “What are we waiting on? I’m starving, and I can’t wait to find out all about the girl my son has tried so hard to keep secret from me.”

  Alex rolled his eyes and held the door open as the two women passed. Once in the car, Jordan sat in the backseat so Alex’s mother could get a better view of the small town her son now called home. Unfortunately, his job took him all over Texas, and he spent as much time away from Ranchero as he did in town.

  During their last undercover gig in El Paso, Alex and his partner had put away a lot of big fish in the Texas/Mexico drug connection. After they’d tied up all the loose ends in the case, he’d jumped at the offer of a promotion as the FBI’s Dallas assistant field commander. Even though Ranchero was an hour’s drive from downtown Dallas, he’d chosen to live in the same house he’d occupied for several months while working undercover to break up an international diamond smuggling ring the year before.

  Staring at the back of Alex’s head as he entertained his mother with a tour of the city, Jordan was glad he’d decided to come back to Ranchero. Secretly, she hoped his decision to make that long commute to work had something to do with her.

  With the Italian Festival in town, if she played her cards right, maybe she’d get a repeat of the lasagna dinner—and more.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jordan climbed into Ray Varga’s nine-passenger Suburban later that night, along with all her other friends from Empire Apartments, and everyone began talking at once.

  “I can’t freaking believe I’m finally going to see the inside of the fabulous Crown Royale Hotel. Heard the rooms go for a thousand bucks a night,” Victor Rodriguez said from the back of the SUV.

  Jordan turned to Michael Cafferty, Victor’s partner, and pursed her lips to hide her glee. “You’d better hold him down, because when I tell him where the party is actually being held, he’s gonna flip out.”

  Victor leaned forward until he was practically in Jordan’s face. “Oh dear God, don’t keep me in suspense. Are we going to be in the ballroom?”

  Jordan shrugged. Victor was more like a brother to her than her landlord, and like her four older siblings back in West Texas, he was easy to tease.

  He owned the local antiques shop in the town square and had a better eye for finding old stuff and turning it into a profit than anyone she’d ever known, but he was also the easiest of the Empire Apartment gang to impress. He and Michael had bought the rundown building on a lark and now socked every spare dollar they had into renovating it. That left little money for entertainment. Tonight was a big deal for all of them.

  Jordan and Victor had hit it off right away and had quickly become good friends—and sometimes cohorts in crime. It seemed every time the two of them were off on their own, they always managed to get into trouble.

  “Oh Lord, child. Put him out of his misery. I can’t stand to see that look on his face.” Rosie LaRue, the fiftyish, free spirit of the group, twisted around to face Jordan. “I’m dying to know, too. So give it up before we gang up on you.”

  “The Presidential Suite.”

  Ray whistled. “Whoa! I once worked security over there and couldn’t believe the opulence. Don’t know if it’s true or not, but my boss said the suites upstairs started at ten grand a night.” He leaned toward his favorite lady, Lola Van Horn. “You and I could do a lot of relaxing there, love, if you get my drift.”

  “Criminy, Ray! Who doesn’t get your drift?” Rosie playfully punched Ray’s arm.

  Anyone with two eyes could see how much Lola and Ray cared for each other. What had started out as two neighbors sharing coffee every morning had progressed into the two sharing a whole lot more. It was cute watching the tough ex-cop turn to jelly in the hands of the seventyish woman who owned Lola’s Spiritual Readings next door to Victor’s antique shop and wore the latest caftans Wal Mart had to offer. It gave Jordan hope that love might be in the cards for all of them.

  “Seriously, kiddo, we’re really going to party with the rest of the Italian Festival people in the Presidential Suite at the Royale?” Rosie grabbed her purse and dug out the mirror. “I need more lipstick.”

  Jordan laughed. “Kate’s firm represents the Italian-American Foundation.”

  “Who’s Kate?” Lola asked.

  “Alex’s sister. Anyway, they’re the ones putting on the festival, and Kate’s here to make sure everything this weekend goes without a hitch.”

  “His sister’s a lawyer?”

  “Yes. She lives in Houston, and apparently, she also was involved in last year’s festival in California. She drove in yesterday to oversee the operation again this year. Alex’s mother only came along for the ride—and to check me out, I’m sure.”

  “Oh my word! And you’re meeting her tonight?” Lola shot Jordan a sympathetic look.

  “Already did at lunch today. Thank God she’s nothing like what I’ve been imagining since Alex first mentioned they would be coming. I was sure she would be another Marie Barone from Everybody Loves Raymond.”

  Rosie snapped the mirror shut, apparently satisfied with her makeup. “And is she?”

  “No, thank God, although it’s obvious Alex is still her baby boy. She put me on the spot a few times, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle.”

  Jordan leaned against the cool leather seat and thought about the earlier meeting with Natalie Moreland. As expected she had been very protective of her only son and nailed Jordan with a few personal questions that bordered dangerously into none-of-your-business territory. Even Alex couldn’t reel her in and finally had just thrown his hands in the air.

  But Jordan hadn’t minded. Something about Natalie Moreland reminded her of her own mother back in Amarillo. She’d answered the questions honestly, telling her the relationship with Alex was only in the beginning stages, explaining that they were taking their time getting to know each other. Slow and steady had seemed to satisfy her.

  The only uncomfortable moment had come when they were eating dessert and Natalie, as she’d instructed Jordan to call her, had quizzed her about how many children she planned to have. Alex had quickly jumped up and declared lunch officially over, admonishing his mother for getting too
personal.

  Leaving the restaurant, Natalie had whispered in Jordan’s ear when Alex was out of hearing distance. “I have a feeling you two will make beautiful grandchildren for me.”

  Although they both knew it was way too early in the relationship to be thinking about things of that nature, Jordan had smiled back, wondering to herself what an Irish-Italian bambino would look like.

  “There it is,” Victor shouted from the back, his voice as excited as a kid getting his first look at a new bike under the Christmas tree. “Oh my God! It looks even more awesome up close.” He leaned forward as Ray pulled the Suburban around the circular drive in front of the hotel.

  “Kate said to be sure to use the valet. Otherwise we’ll have to park too far away. They’re expecting a huge crowd.”

  “How did you finagle an invite for all of us?” Michael asked, leaning across Victor to get a better look. “My boss said there were tons of important people coming to the party. He tried to get me in with press credentials, but they didn’t go for that. Said it was a private party. He was really impressed when I told him I was going.”

  “Why would the radio station be interested in the party? I thought it was only for the planners and the bigwigs in the Italian American Foundation?” Ray asked.

  Jordan answered for Michael. “According to Kate, it’s just for the IAF people, but I can see why KTLK would be interested in covering it. It’s the biggest thing to hit the Dallas/Fort Worth area since Arlington hosted the Super Bowl last year.”

  “I’ll say,” Victor added. “One of the guys who stops by the shop to chitchat every day said that people were coming from as far away as Palermo, Italy.”

  “That’s true,” Jordan confirmed. “And from all over the United States, as well. It’s a pretty big deal.”

  “So how did you get an invite, Jordan, and not Michael with press credentials?” Ray repeated Michael’s earlier question.

  “The newspaper wants to make sure every aspect of the festival is covered. I’m actually on assignment tonight,” she answered. “They want me attend every event that has anything to do with food and give a running review in my column...” She paused before finishing with, “My column for now, anyway.”

  Waiting for the valet, Michael turned to her. “What does for now mean?”

  Jordan thought about changing the subject then decided her friends would find out sooner or later. “You remember Loretta Moseley who used to have my job at the newspaper?” When they nodded, she continued, “Well, she’s back in town, and she’s decided she wants her old job back.”

  “No way!” Victor exclaimed. “Isn’t she the old bat who ran off with her lover?”

  Jordan bit her lip to keep from grinning when Michael shot his partner a disapproving glance for calling Loretta an old bat. “That would be her.”

  “Who does she think she is? She can’t just walk back onto the scene and ask for your job! More importantly, how can your editor, in his right mind, even consider it?” Lola huffed.

  “Her uncle’s the owner,” Jordan explained with a shrug.

  “I don’t care who her uncle is,” Lola said. “It’s not right.”

  Jordan knew her friends would be outraged. “We’re both covering the events at the festival and writing about them. She takes one day, and I take the other. Then Egan and the owner will pick the one who gets to keep the column.” She tried not to sound too worried, but the truth was there was a good chance she’d have to give up the Kitchen Kupboard.

  “You should’ve said that in the first place,” Rosie said, with a wink and a swipe at a strand of her blond hair that had slipped out of her usual French braid. “The good people of Ranchero love you and your recipes.”

  “Your recipes,” Jordan corrected. “Without you, my job as the culinary expert would be a joke.”

  Rosie patted her shoulder. “You could never be a joke, my dear. Maybe my recipes are a big hit, but it’s your personality that comes through in the column. You’re gonna kick that Loretta woman’s ass.”

  A young man in uniform appeared, and Ray handed him the keys, then took the lead and walked through the elegant glass doors into the most beautiful lobby Jordan had ever seen.

  “Would you look at this?” Rosie observed, doing a slow 360. “I can’t wait to see what the Presidential Suite looks like if the lobby is this gorgeous.”

  An older man dressed in a dark gray suit that had definitely not come off the rack approached them. “May I help you?”

  Jordan reached into her purse for her press pass and the gold emblazoned invitation Kate had given her. “I’m Jordan McAllister from the Globe, and these people are guests of Kate Moreland. We’re here for the IAF party.”

  After carefully inspecting the documents, the concierge instructed them to follow him to a private elevator around the back of the hotel desk. He scanned a card, and the elevator opened instantly.

  “This will take you straight to the Presidential Suite.”

  Jordan felt a current of excitement course through her body when the door closed behind them. They were going to one of the biggest parties in Dallas. It would be a night to remember for all of them.

  The sounds of a full-blown celebration could be heard even before the elevator door opened on the eleventh floor.

  Stepping directly out into the largest hotel room she’d ever seen, Jordan stood in awe. The others were uncharacteristically silent, probably as star-struck as she was. A quick scan verified the room was twice the size of her entire apartment, and it looked like there were close to a hundred people milling around. A large, circular red leather couch wrapped around one entire side of the room, showcasing a magnificent stone fireplace with a theater-sized flat screen TV above the mantle.

  Even with the recent temperatures topping the high nineties, there was a fire burning behind the glass enclosure, obviously more for ambience than heat. Jordan counted ten people sitting around the TV screen watching a video of a previous Italian festival. Hoots and hollers could be heard every few seconds as someone recognized a face on the screen.

  In the center of the room, an impressive spiral staircase led to what Jordan assumed were the bedroom suites, with a balcony overlooking the lower floor. Off to the right was a bar nearly as big as the one Jordan and her friends frequented in Connor on Karaoke Night. Several people huddled around the dark oak structure either waiting for drinks or chatting with friends.

  The rest of the party goers were moving from one group to another—working the room. Dean Martin’s soothing voice crooned Que Sera Sera over the huge speakers in the corners of the large room.

  Alex appeared out of nowhere, “You take my breath away,” he whispered into her ear, causing the fine hairs on her neck to spring to attention. “New dress?” When she nodded, he put his hand on her shoulder and swiveled her around so that she was looking right at him. After his eyes moved up and down her body, they settled on her face. “Money well spent.”

  “She almost didn’t buy it,” Rosie said. “I had to twist her arm.”

  “I’ll bet every guy in this place is thanking you right now, Rosie.”

  “Hush, Moreland! I’m already self conscious enough without you adding to it.” Jordan tried to look serious but couldn’t pull it off.

  She tugged at the hem of the red and white dress she’d bought on sale at Macy’s that afternoon. Although it was a little shorter than she normally wore, Rosie had insisted it was perfect. She’d nearly flipped out when she’d seen the sales clerk adding in the matching stilettos that had cost almost as much as the dress.

  Between Rosie and the young clerk who’d insisted the dress was nothing without the shoes, she hadn’t stood a chance. Even though the spree would put a serious dent in her budget for the month, she’d left the store with both. Seeing the approval in Alex’s eyes made it all worthwhile, though. Bologna sandwiches and chips would be her dinner staple for the next few weeks since eating out would have to be the first thing to go until she could get her finan
ces back on track. That was if she didn’t fall and kill herself trying to walk in the heels.

  A small price to pay for the way Alex was smiling at her now.

  After bending down and lightly kissing her, he greeted the others. “Come on. Let’s get you all something to drink. You’re gonna need it before you meet my mom.”

  They followed him to the other side of the room where a huge fountain was surrounded by a pyramid of cocktail glasses. Grabbing one, he filled it with the flowing liquid, and after attaching an orange slice for garnish, handed it to Jordan. “Taste this and then tell me you can stop at one.” While he filled two more for Lola and Rosie, the guys helped themselves.

  After only one sip, Jordan licked her lips. “What’s this, Alex? It’s fantastic.”

  “Italian Margarita. It’s a staple at the festival, so you’ll be drinking a lot of them next weekend. The amaretto makes it.”

  “It tastes familiar to me. Isn’t this what George Christakis used to get me tipsy on the cruise the night I sat with him in the hot tub waiting for you to finish playing detective?”

  “One and the same.” Alex grinned. “And if I’m remembering correctly, because of the New York restaurateur plying you with these margaritas, you and I didn’t get much sleep that night.”

  “Oh, no you don’t!” Rosie exclaimed, stepping between Jordan and Alex. “No talking about that kind of stuff. Remember, I’m flying solo tonight. I’ll need a few more of these before I can handle that kind of torture.” She refilled her glass and took a big swig. “Oh, this will definitely ease the pain.”

  “I’m betting when you get a good look at some of these Italian gentlemen here, that may all change,” Victor said. “There are some hotties walking around.”

  Rosie’s face lit up as Michael sent a dagger Victor’s way. “I never could resist a cute paesano.”

  No truer words were ever spoken. Rosie was the femme fatale of the group and loved to flirt. It was an art form to her, and with four ex-husbands running around as proof, she’d gotten pretty good at it. She’d tried several times to teach Jordan how to do it, but each time Jordan had attempted to put it into practice, she hadn’t been able to pull it off and had ended up feeling incredibly stupid.