Victor’s eyes lit up. “Lead the way. Only I’m driving. The thought of you behind the wheel, my dear, scares the hell out of me.”
“Should we see if Lola wants to come?”
Lola’s Spiritual Readings was right next door to Victor’s store, and even though taking too many people on a fishing expedition for information might not be ideal, it would be fun if all three of them went out there together.
“Lola’s playing hooky today. She and Ray drove out to Lake Texoma to fish off Sandy’s dock.”
“That’s nice. Sandy loves it when someone gets to use her place, especially now that she knows it isn’t haunted.” Jordan pushed aside memories of how solving her friend’s ghost mystery a few months back had nearly gotten her killed.
“The car’s parked out back. You can explain how we’re going to get a free meal on the way to wherever.” Victor grabbed his keys and followed her to the front, turning the OPEN sign around and locking the door. Then he snapped his fingers. “Chop, chop, Jordan. I’m starving.”
* * * * *
For the third time in less than two days, Jordan found herself at the fairground entrance, this time with Victor at her side. On the drive over she explained about Carlita and her sister, and mentioned that their mission was to find out if Carlita’s sister had seen anything that might help Kate’s defense the night Marco died.
Halfway to the booth, Jordan heard someone call her name and looked up to see Carlita waving madly with a towel. Hoping it wasn’t the same dirty rag as yesterday, Jordan smiled and waved back. Then she pulled Victor toward the booth across the way where a woman was having a difficult time trying to hang a sign on the front. One look at her left no doubt she was Carlita’s sister.
“It looks like you could use some help,” Victor said, reaching in and lifting the other end of the sign. “Where do you want it?”
The woman turned and stared, a light smile tipping the corners of her lips before she pointed to several nails protruding from the wooden plank. “There.”
Jordan scrambled to help, but Victor had already lifted the sign up and had it in place before she could assist.
“My, my! You’re a strong one,” the woman said. “I like that in a man.”
Victor moved away, and for the first time since she’d known him, Jordan saw him blush.
She turned to the woman and held out her hand. “Ginny, I’m Jordan McAllister from the Globe. I’m doing a story on you and your sister in Thursday’s paper, and I wondered if you’d have time to answer a few questions for me.”
“Lita told me all about you. Said you’d be coming by.” Even though the woman was speaking to Jordan, her eyes had only left Victor’s face long enough to do a body scan on him, causing the color in his cheeks to brighten. Jordan couldn’t wait to tease him about that.
“Carlita tells me your specialty is chicken cacciatore and pizza bread. Is that right?” Jordan asked.
“Damn straight. Folks come from all over to sample it. I have to make bigger batches every year, and I still sell out. And my braided spaghetti bread is also a best seller.”
“I’m sure it’s delicious. I’ll try to get by during the festivities to taste it,” Victor said, now recovered from the earlier awkwardness of having this woman overtly ogling him. “Although I’m afraid that might be difficult since I’ll be out of town all next week.” He looked at Ginny to see if she’d take the bait.
She did.
“Are you hungry now?” Her smile was so wide Jordan thought her lips would split at the corners.
“Now that you mention it, I am a little hungry,” Victor said. “I haven’t eaten—”
“You have to try this,” Ginny said, practically sprinting to the back of the booth where two large trays sat under a warmer. “You, too—what did you say your name was?”
“Jordan McAllister.” There was no way she’d remember it even after the reminder. Her focus was on Victor, and Victor alone.
As if on cue, Ginny glanced up at him and batted her eyelashes. “And yours?”
Jordan fought to keep from laughing out loud. This woman was definitely coming on to Victor and making no bones about it. It was clear she was more interested in him than any publicity story Jordan had to offer.
“Victor Rodriguez. And I can’t wait to taste your cacciatore and spaghetti bread.”
“I didn’t bring the pizza bread today, but you can taste the cacciatore and the braided spaghetti bread.” Ginny grabbed two paper plates and filled them with the steaming Italian dish, setting them on the counter in front of Jordan and Victor. Reaching for two sets of plastic silverware, she said, “Eat this while it’s hot. I’ll tell you all about myself while you enjoy the food.”
Neither Jordan nor Victor needed any further coaxing before they dug in. Carlita had been right. Ginny’s cacciatore was the best Jordan had ever tasted, and she began plotting how she’d convince Ginny to give up the recipe for the Kitchen Kupboard. She stole a glance Victor’s way, but he was shoveling the hot pasta into his mouth faster than she was. When he finally did look up, he winked, obviously pleased with himself for finagling the free food.
After another plateful and a slice of delicious, piping hot spaghetti bread, Jordan had heard Ginny’s entire life history. Wiping her mouth with the napkin Ginny had placed in front of her, Jordan sized the Italian woman up. Standing about five-two with a body that could only be described as pudgy and dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, Ginny looked to be in her late thirties, making her a little younger than her sister, if Jordan’s calculations were correct. Her round face was free of makeup and looked like it could use an industrial strength moisturizer.
When they were through eating, Jordan gave her a thumbs up. “Your chicken cacciatore is the best I’ve ever tasted. Thanks for letting us sample it.”
“My pleasure. It was the least I could do for such a handsome, strong man like Victor who helped me with the sign.” Again, she batted her eyelashes, but this time Victor didn’t blush.
Jordan decided to go for it. “I don’t know whether Carlita told you or not, but my readers love recipes. Would you be willing—”
“Already ahead of you,” Ginny said, pulling out two recipe cards. “I’d be honored to see these in print.” She paused before adding, “But only after the festival is over. Deal?”
“Absolutely. My readers will go crazy over these.”
Jordan grabbed the recipes and shoved them into her purse, deciding to dive right in and find the answers to the questions they came to ask. So far, the woman hadn’t mentioned the party, and she was trying to figure out the best way to approach the subject.
Before she could do that, Ginny beat her to the punch. “Lita tells me you were at the party the other night at the Royale. That right?”
Jordan nodded. “I was covering it for the newspaper.” She took a sip of the bottled water in front of her. “Were you there when all the commotion broke out?” She was anxious to get to the heart of the matter and find out what this woman knew.
“Yes, but I don’t remember seeing either of you,” Ginny replied.
“We were both there.” She hoped she could get Ginny talking. But even if she didn’t, the mission was not a complete bust. She licked her lips thinking how good the food had been—and she had the recipes to print as a bonus. Loretta Moseley, you’d better grab your butt and hold on with both hands after I post Carlita’s and Ginny’s recipes.
“It was such a tragedy what happened to that man,” Jordan continued.
“Certainly was. The guy deserved it, if you ask me.”
Jordan’s ears perked up. “Why do you say that?”
“Men can be such animals,” Ginny began before turning to Victor. “I’m sure you’re not, Victor. I only meant men in general. That Marco fella was up in his bedroom having some kind of orgy with two women...” She stopped abruptly as if she realized she’d said too much already.
“Two women? Are you sure about that?” Jordan and Victor both inched in a little cl
oser.
“Positive,” Ginny said, obviously deciding it was now or never to make a move on Victor. She leaned over the counter, and he backed away quickly.
Her eyes reflected her displeasure with his action, and she straightened up. “Well, if there are no further questions, I have more work to do.” She walked back to the pan of cacciatore in the back, totally dismissing them.
“Say something nice to her,” Jordan whispered to Victor. “We need to know who that other woman was.”
Victor shook his head. “No way. She’d be all over me like a cat in heat. She obviously doesn’t have a working gaydar.”
“Thank heavens, because you’re our only chance to find out what she knows. If she thinks you’re flirting with her, my guess is she’ll tell you anything. Come on, Victor. Take one for the team.”
“Have you gotten a good look at her? She has more hair on her arms than I do.”
“I’m not asking you to take her out dancing. Just smile pretty once or twice for her and compliment her on something. Women love that.” She pushed him closer to the counter. “I’ll just start walking toward Carlita’s booth across the way, and you work your magic.”
He huffed. “You once told me I was as romantic as a horned toad. You’re changing your tune now that you want something from me.”
“If you won’t do it for me, do it for Alex.” She threw that in because she knew Victor adored Alex and would do anything for him.
“Okay, but don’t go too far away. I’m afraid of what this woman wants to do to me.”
Jordan kissed his forehead just as Ginny turned back from the warmer.
“Be sure and read Thursday’s column, Ginny. I think you’ll be pleased. Now, I have to go finalize things with Carlita.” She turned and walked across the fairway, dying to sneak a peak to find out if Victor was talking to her.
By the time she reached Carlita’s booth, her curiosity was killing her, but she forced herself to make small talk with Ginny’s sister. A few minutes later, she heard a woman’s angry voice shouting what she could only imagine were Italian obscenities. Both she and Carlita turned toward Ginny’s booth in time to see Victor hightailing it away from the Queen of Cacciatore. Still screaming, Ginny was now shaking a big ladle in the air.
“Let’s get out of here,” Victor said, grabbing Jordan’s arm when he got to Carlita’s booth. When she didn’t instantly react, he commanded, “Now.”
She waved at Carlita as she allowed him to drag her out of the fairgrounds and toward his car. When they were safely inside and on the way back to Ranchero, she finally asked, “What was that all about?”
He bent over to catch his breath. “That crazy woman. She had a bloody meltdown. I’m lucky the pan of cacciatore was too heavy for her to throw at me.”
“What in the world happened to make her so mad?”
“I swear I didn’t do anything. We were just having a conversation, and I did what you said.” He stopped and swiped at the beads of sweat on his brow. “Damn! She was mad.”
Jordan was confused. “What did I tell you to do that made her blow a gasket?”
“You said to compliment her. Guess some women don’t appreciate it as much as others.”
Jordan narrowed her eyes in confusion. “You complimented her and she got mad at you?”
“Yes, and I have to tell you, Jordan, no more taking one for the team with that nut case.”
“So what exactly did you say to her?”
“I complimented her about her face.”
Jordan remembered thinking the woman had really dry skin and hoped Victor hadn’t mentioned that. “Tell me exactly what you said to her—word for word.”
“I told her I liked her mustache.”
Jordan couldn’t help herself and burst out laughing. Before long, Victor was laughing with her.
“I really liked it. You know how long I’ve been trying to grow a good one like Tom Selleck’s? Well, she had the beginnings of the perfect one.”
That brought more laughter, doubling Jordan over. “You clod. That is the worst thing you could ever say to a woman. It’s like telling a guy you like his man boobs.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, causing another outburst of laughter.
When Jordan thought her sides would split, she finally pulled herself together. “I guess that means you didn’t find out who the other woman was?”
He gave her a Groucho Marx eyebrow wiggle. “You underestimate me, my red-headed friend.”
She turned completely to face him. “What did she say?”
“She said she had the perfect vantage point near the staircase and saw the woman who killed him go up the staircase first. Then ten minutes later, she saw another woman follow with a man she assumed was Marco.”
“Oh my God! This could really help Kate. Did she say who the other woman was?”
He grinned. “Say you’re sorry for calling me a clod.”
She slapped his shoulder playfully. “You were a clod, and I’m not sorry, but if you don’t tell me what she said I’m going to—”
“It was Tina Calabrese.”
“What? She’s sure?”
Victor grinned like the proverbial Cheshire cat. “And she said Emilio’s daughter didn’t go up those steps alone.”
Jordan completely turned in her seat to face him. “Who was with her?”
“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Kate said Marco was already in the bedroom when she got there, so who was the guy?”
He pointed at her. “Gotcha. The mustache lady didn’t recognize his face, but she’d said she’s seen him around at the planning sessions, and she assumed it was Marco Petrone. And get this—she said whoever it was, the two couldn’t get up to the bedroom fast enough. I was afraid to ask what she meant by that since she was already eyeballing me like I was dinner.”
“She was sure it was Marco with Tina? ‘Cause that’s not what Kate said.”
He shrugged. “She’s never seen Marco, but she said it had to be him since it was his bedroom and he was the only guy up there.”
Jordan sighed. This was indeed a new development that might help Kate. “That’s weird, because Kate didn’t mention seeing Tina in the bedroom with her and Marco. We have to assume that the cheating scumbag put Tina in the other bedroom and planned to talk Kate into a quickie first.” She rubbed her forehead. “But Kate was adamant about Marco already being up in the bedroom when he called her. I tend to believe her. Why would he take both his fiancé and his girlfriend up to his bedroom after what had happened earlier?”
“He’s a Casanova, remember?”
“That may be true, but I still think he was already up there when Kate arrived, which means the man Ginny saw with Tina couldn’t have been Marco.” She blew her hair out of her eyes. “So who was Emilio’s daughter sneaking up to the bedroom with?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shortly after Jordan arrived at work the next day, both she and Loretta were summoned to Egan’s office. Neither said a word in the elevator, and it wasn’t until Egan’s secretary greeted them that Loretta finally broke the silence, hugging Jackie Frazier and asking about her kids.
Oh, great! Her competitor had an ally in the editor’s office. That couldn’t be good.
Egan was on the phone when they were escorted into his office and motioned for them to sit down without glancing up. When he slammed a file folder on his desk and raised his voice a few octaves, Jordan rolled her eyes, knowing he would be in a foul mood when he hung up. She had no idea why he’d called them here in the first place, but she figured it had something to do with the Kitchen Kupboard.
She worried that he and the owner had changed their minds about giving her a chance to show them she was the right one for the job. Loretta’s little dinner with Uncle Earl and Aunt Sarah had probably been the nail on the coffin.
She felt momentary panic, waiting to hear if she was being sent back to writing the personals only.
“Heard that was quite a party the other night,” her boss began.
Jordan nodded, and Loretta simply grunted.
Egan went on, “There’s been a change in plans.”
Here we go! Jordan braced herself for his next sentence, convinced she was on her way out as a culinary reporter.
“We’ve decided to dedicate a full page every day to the Italian Festival from now until it ends.” When neither woman reacted, he continued. “We’re running a piece in the culinary column as well as the entertainment and sports column to showcase it. To make it even more interesting I’ve decided I want the two of you to write something for the column every day. That’ll give the readers a chance to get a taste of both styles.”
“That’s asking us to do a lot of extra work,” Loretta said, matter-of-factly. “I hope you know I expect to be compensated for it.” She picked at a red tipped nail without looking at Egan.
Egan pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “You get a salary for being the culinary reporter, Loretta. Nowhere in your contract—which, by the way, was null and void when you failed to come back to your job after rehab—did it ever say how many articles you have to write every week. You should be glad for this opportunity. If it were up to me, you might not even be here. Once you gave up your position, that was it as far as I was concerned.”
Loretta’s shot out of the chair and leaned across Egan’s desk. “Thank God it isn’t up to you. I’ll show you who’s the better choice for the job, and then you’ll eat those words.” She turned to Jordan. “Game’s still on, Red.”
Jordan smiled, thinking she would be out of a job before she even finished that sentence if she talked to Egan like that. She wondered how much more of the woman’s arrogance the editor would take before he reacted.
And had she just heard him right? Did he say he was rooting for her to win the job?
Well, maybe he hadn’t said exactly that, but it sounded like he thought it was unfair that Loretta had just waltzed into his office out of the blue and demanded her old job back.
Suspecting Egan harbored at least a little animosity toward his former employee, Jordan vowed to take advantage of that and work her butt off to get good coverage of the festival. She decided to see if she could talk one of the Bruno sisters into letting her print a recipe in Saturday’s column. That way she could run another one Sunday with a recap of the weekend long festival.
Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery) Page 10
