Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery)

by Lipperman, Liz

  His face registered the shock at seeing Natalie before he turned his gaze back on Jordan. “I apologize if I came on too strong, but you can imagine how I felt when I heard you had implicated my daughter in her fiancé’s murder.”

  “I did no such thing,” Jordan said, feeling a little braver with Natalie next to her. If Alex’s mother wasn’t afraid of Emilio Calabrese, why should she be? “I merely relayed a conversation I had with one of the vendors who said she’d seen Tina go up the staircase shortly after Kate.”

  “That’s a bold-faced lie,” Emilio shouted before lowering his voice a notch. “Tina was with me when all that commotion was going on.”

  Natalie moved toward him, and Jordan could have sworn she saw Emilio take a step back. “That would have been hard to do, since you and I were standing at the bar and sharing a drink at the time. I was sitting on a barstool and you were beside me with your back to the staircase.” She shook her finger at him. “Shame on you, Emilio. I want to help my daughter, too, but I won’t resort to lying.”

  He stared at her for a moment before placing his hands on his hips defiantly. “Tina didn’t kill Marco. I know it,” he finally said softly.

  “No woman likes to be made a fool of in front of all her friends,” Jordan blurted before her brain had time to close her mouth. Once she started, she couldn’t stop herself. “We all saw how upset your daughter was. If she walked in on Marco while Kate was still in his bathroom and imagined what had just happened in his bed, it could have sent her over the edge.” She took a step backwards, sure Emilio would lash out.

  Instead, he shook his head. “I know my Tina. She wouldn’t even hurt a spider.”

  “And you think my Kate could kill someone?” Natalie fired back.

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “But trying to put the blame on my daughter isn’t the way to go about proving she didn’t.” He stumbled and almost fell before he grabbed onto the side of the couch. “Mind if I sit down? I’ve had a long day.”

  Jordan motioned with her hand for him to sit. As soon as she was settled, she started in on him. “Let’s get this straight, Mr. Calabrese. I only told the police the facts. At the very least, it casts reasonable doubt that Kate Moreland committed murder that night. Likewise, having Kate there does the exact same thing for your daughter. No one’s out to get Tina. I can assure you. Best case scenario, they’ll decide that Marco accidentally fell over the railing.”

  Emilio hung his head. “They’ve already officially labeled it a homicide,” he said, calming down a little. “Jeff called tonight to tell me the police want Tina at the station first thing in the morning so they can question her. That’s when he mentioned that they’d concluded that a spot of blood they’d scraped from the patio floor belonged to Marco. After the ME found a gash on the back of the man’s skull during the autopsy, he ruled that at least one of Petrone’s injuries occurred before the fall. Since he landed face down, that could only have happened before he went over the railing. More evidence indicates he didn’t fall straight down like someone who had jumped. Thus, the homicide ruling.”

  Natalie threw her hands in the air. “Why didn’t Jeff tell us that at the station?”

  Emilio shrugged. “He may not have known about the autopsy at the time.” He reached out for Natalie’s hand. “This puts me in a precarious situation, Nat. It would have been unethical for Jeff to represent Tina in this matter after hearing privileged information from the accused. I had to bring in a local to make sure Tina’s well represented.”

  Natalie opened her mouth to say something then closed it. After a moment, she reached out and grabbed his hand. I’m sorry, Emilio. Really I am. I know you love your daughter as much as I love mine. Let’s just hope the police decide there isn’t enough evidence to try either one of them.”

  “She didn’t do it,” Emilio repeated. “It wouldn’t have mattered if Marco had cheated on her. She didn’t care. That’s why she was so mad at me for making her...” He sucked in a gulp of air to cut off the rest of that sentence. After glancing down at his watch he turned toward the door. “I’m sorry for barging in like this. I guess we’ll just have to see what happens in the morning.” He opened the door and walked out more slowly than he’d walked in. He seemed to be dragging his left leg, making Jordan wonder if he’d injured it somehow.

  She raced over and locked the deadbolt as soon as the door closed behind him, then turned to Natalie. “Did you pick up on what he just said—and didn’t say—a minute ago?”

  “I did, and I’m still trying to figure it out. What could Emilio have meant when it slipped out that his daughter was mad at him?”

  Jordan walked over to the couch and sat down. Leaning her head back she stared at the ceiling for a few minutes before responding. “I don’t know, but my imagination is running wild. What if Emilio was making Tina marry Marco for some reason, and that’s why she was so mad at him?”

  “How could Emilio make her marry anyone? This is the twenty-first century, and we’re not in an Old World country. Girls aren’t forced into arranged marriages. They can marry whomever they choose.”

  “Unless the one who’s holding the purse strings threatens to close the purse,” Jordan said. She shut her eyes, trying to figure out what else it could be.

  “But why would a girl like Tina balk at marrying someone who looks like Marco?” Natalie asked, plopping down beside Jordan on the couch. “From what I understand he had women all over the world trying to get him to settle down.”

  “I don’t know why, but I promise I’m going to find out.”

  “How?”

  “I’m going to ask her stepbrother.”

  Natalie straightened in her chair. “That’s a brilliant idea, Jordan. I’ll go with you.”

  Jordan shook her head. “This time I have to go alone, Natalie. If I’m going to squeeze any information out of Frankie O’Brien, I have to make him believe he’s getting something in return. That won’t happen with a chaperone present.”

  A twinkle brightened Natalie’s eyes. “Wear that new lip gloss again.”

  * * * * *

  Jordan jumped up from her makeshift bed on the couch when the phone rang. “Hello.” She wiped the sleep from her eyes.

  “Oh God! Your voice sounds so good to me,” Alex said. “I would give anything to kiss the sleep off your face right now.”

  Natalie charged out of Jordan’s bedroom. “Is Kate all right?”

  “Tell her Kate’s fine. Jeff did all they could last night before leaving. The police were gracious enough to let me crash on one of their office couches as a courtesy.”

  Tears threatened to spill over Natalie’s face when Jordan relayed the message.

  “Jeff’s on his way back to the station now to find out about the woman who saw Tina Calabrese follow Kate up the steps that night. Hopefully, with that new information, the police won’t have enough evidence to hold Kate. At the very worst, Jeff can persuade a judge to release her on her own recognizance.” She heard the frustration in his voice, as well as the longing. “I can’t tell you how much I need to see your smiling face.”

  “Me too,” she said, sneaking a glance Natalie’s way. She’d heard her tossing and turning most of the night just like she’d done on the couch, and the stress showed on the older woman’s face.

  “Tell my mother that I’ll call her as soon as we find out anything. I know you have to go to work, but I can’t leave Kate now.”

  “Your mom will be okay,” Jordan said. “I’ll have Rosie come over and sit with her until—-”

  “No! I want to be at Alex’s apartment in case Kate gets to come home,” Natalie interrupted holding up her hand.” If you’ll let me follow you so I don’t get lost, I’ll be fine, and you can go to work.”

  “Your mother wants to wait at your house. Maybe she could take a nap while she’s waiting,” Jordan twisted to see Natalie’s reaction to the suggestion.

  “Doubtful,” Natalie said, sitting down beside Jordan.

 
“Best case scenario, I’ll bring Kate home and catch a few z’s myself,” Alex said. “I can’t say for sure when I’ll be able to get away tonight.”

  “You need to be with your family, Alex. I understand. Besides, I have something I need to do, anyway.” She winked at Natalie before adding, “It’s for my column tomorrow.” If Alex knew she was going on a hunt for information from someone who might be the killer himself, he would freak out.

  “I have to run. Jeff just walked in.”

  “Okay. Give Kate a hug for me.”

  “Will do.”

  She stared at the phone for a few minutes before shoving it into her T-shirt pocket and walking into the kitchen to fix Natalie a cup of coffee. “I’m sorry. The only things here that might double as breakfast are Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Pop Tarts and Hostess Ho Hos.” She felt the flush warm her cheeks, sure Natalie would wonder why she only had chocolate in the house. She made a mental grocery list that included English muffins and orange juice.

  Instead Natalie clapped her hands. “I haven’t had a Pop Tart in years.” She sat down at the kitchen table and waited for the pastry to come out of the toaster. “And I can’t even remember the last time I had a Ho Ho.”

  Jordan smiled and patted her back when she put the breakfast in front of her. “I’ve got to get ready for work. Help yourself to seconds if you want.”

  “I just might do that,” Natalie said. “I always said that chocolate could make you forget all your troubles.” She took a bite of the treat. “Well, maybe not all of them, but it certainly makes you feel better.” She waved her hand toward the bedroom. “Go get dressed. And wear something sexy. You have a big job ahead of you tonight.”

  * * * * *

  “Awesome post, Loretta,” the woman who sat two cubicles down said when Jordan approached her own work station.

  Loretta Moseley’s smile couldn’t get any wider as she thanked the woman, making sure Jordan heard. “I worked really hard on it.”

  “I can’t wait to try it on my family. It sounds so delicious,” the woman added before turning and heading back to her own desk.

  That immediately caught Jordan’s attention, and she tried to hide her surprise. Since arriving an hour late that morning she hadn’t had time to look at the morning edition. But there was no way she’d give Loretta the satisfaction of knowing she was curious what her recipe was.

  Thirty minutes later, Loretta got up to use the restroom, and Jordan pulled up the newspaper on her computer, going directly to the culinary page.

  Her own article about the history of the Italian Festival was on the left side of the page. It was a good article with an in-depth look at the successes of past festivals. Jordan had been able to gather most of the information off the Internet and was proud of the way it had turned out.

  She glanced to the right for Loretta’s article and had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle the scream that bubbled up in her throat. In bold letters besides Loretta’s name, the words, Ginny’s Chicken Cacciatore, glared at her, followed by the recipe for the wonderful dish.

  No wonder people were congratulating Loretta. Swearing under her breath, Jordan wondered how Loretta had convinced Ginny into letting her print the recipe before the festival ever started. She’d upstaged Jordan and had taken round one of the competition. Next to the fantastic recipe, Jordan’s article seemed dull and boring.

  She opened the bottom drawer with the key from her purse and pulled out the files with her notes from the interview with the Italian sisters. Flipping through the pages, she looked for Ginny’s recipe to compare it with the one Loretta had posted, secretly hoping the woman had left out a key ingredient or something. Grinning to herself, she imagined how angry the readers would be if they went to all the trouble of making the dish only to find out something was missing.

  Her heart raced when she realized Ginny’s recipe was nowhere to be found. An audible sigh escaped when she couldn’t find Carlita’s Cake Ball recipe in the folder, either. Going through her notes a third time, she felt panic rising. What could have possibly happened to the recipes? She had been vigilant about keeping the drawer locked, and the key had remained in her purse except when she needed it.

  Just then Loretta walked back to her desk and noticed the look on Jordan’s face. “What’s the matter, Red? You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

  Something about her tone and the look on her face had red flags waving in Jordan’s brain. In that instant she knew beyond a doubt that Loretta had somehow managed to get into her drawer and steal the recipes.

  “Give me the other one, and I won’t go to Egan with this.”

  Loretta looked confused for a second, and then raised her eyebrows in question. “And tell him what? That you’re mad because I printed the recipe before you did? He’ll think it’s just sour grapes.”

  “He knows you better than you think,” Jordan fired back.

  The other woman hissed. “That may be true, but even he can’t prove I stole this recipe from your locked desk.” She narrowed her eyes. “I told you that you weren’t dealing with a rookie. I’ll get my old back job back no matter what I have to do.” Although she turned toward her computer and pretended to be busy with something, the smile never left her face.

  Fury almost choked her. Loretta was right. There was no way she could prove the woman had stolen her recipes. She might as well get used to writing only the personals again.

  Putting the file back, something caught her eye in the back of the drawer. Reaching in, she pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper that had been jammed into the back. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she nearly jumped for joy. No wonder Loretta had seemed confused when she’d mentioned there was more than one recipe. Carlita’s Cake Ball recipe must have fallen from the folder when Loretta grabbed it.

  Jordan resisted flaunting it in front of her nemesis and simply tucked it into her purse. Maybe Loretta had won the first round of the culinary war, but she wouldn’t win the next one. Jordan held the trump card. As good as Ginny’s Chicken Cacciatore was, nothing compared to Carlita’s Italian Cream Cake Balls.

  Loretta was about to find out why you shouldn’t piss off a redhead.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The rest of the workday dragged by without any further confrontations with Loretta, although it had been rather annoying listening to everyone stop by her desk to thank her for the great recipe. Jordan wanted to scream that the cheat had stolen it from her. Somehow, she managed to hold her tongue, but she couldn’t quit thinking about how she would explain to Ginny and her sister why the recipe was in print before the festival had even opened.

  At the thought of Ginny Bruno, she wondered how her morning at the police station had gone. That was another reason the Italian woman would be furious at her. Jordan did feel badly about involving her in the murder investigation. But what she’d told them about seeing a man go up the stairs with Tina the night Marco was killed was crucial if they were ever going to prove that Kate had nothing to do with his death.

  As soon as Jordan was out of the building and into her car, she dialed Alex’s cell phone. If anyone would know how Ginny’s day at the Plainville Police Station went down, it would be him, since he had also spent the morning there with his sister.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hello, beautiful. I was just thinking about you.”

  “Is Kate at home?”

  “Yes, thank God. The police decided they didn’t have enough evidence to hold her, and they released her with a warning not to leave the area.”

  Jordan’s spirits were lifted. “That’s wonderful news. Kate must be so relieved.”

  “For now, but if we don’t get some hard evidence to clear her name soon, she could be on her way to jail again very soon.” He paused briefly. “No more talk about that. Are you headed home?”

  “No, I’m going out to the fairgrounds to see if I can get a couple of interviews before the festival opens this weekend and nobody has time to talk to me. I mentioned tha
t this morning when you called, remember?”

  She hated lying to him but it was necessary, and truth be told, it was really only a half lie, if there was such a thing. She was on her way to the fairgrounds right now, but she had no intentions of interviewing anyone. Her mission was to suck up to Frankie O’Brien to try to find out why his sister was mad at her father for insisting she go through with her marriage to Marco.

  She remembered how Frankie’s face had scrunched up in anger when he’d mentioned that Marco and his mother had gotten it on. She was counting on using that anger to manipulate him into spilling his guts about Tina and Emilio Calabrese.

  “Wish I could go with you,” Alex said, interrupting her thoughts. “But Jeff is coming over after dinner to brainstorm with us about what the next step should be. Trust me when I say there’s nothing I’d rather do than take my best girl out to the fairgrounds for samples of food from my mother country. I’d especially enjoy plying her with a few decanters of chilled Italian wine so that she wouldn’t be able to resist me.”

  Jordan laughed. “Hello? Do you know who you’re talking to? You don’t need a few decanters. All that would happen after maybe one and a half glasses of the good stuff.”

  He laughed with her. “Who said I was talking about you?” He didn’t wait for her response before adding, “We both know I was, so there’s no sense in trying to play it cool. Unfortunately, that fantasy will have to wait. I will take a rain check, though.”

  “You’re lucky you added that part about it being me. I’ve already been reminded lately that I’m a skinny redhead, and you know what they say about redheads and their tempers.”

  “Yeah, well, a little Italian food will help with the skinny part but not the Irish temper.”

  “Maybe I can get Ginny Bruno to give me a little more of her chicken cacciatore and find some fine Italian wine to go with it. I promise I’ll think about you the entire time I’m smacking my lips,” she teased before she remembered why she’d called him in the first place. “Hey, speaking of Ginny, what happened when they interviewed her this morning at the police station?”