Jordan clapped her hands in delight. Wanting Marco out of the picture permanently made for one helluva motive for either Bernardo or Tina—or both.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After stopping at the Burger Hut for a quick dinner, Jordan finally made it home a little after nine. No sooner had she walked into her apartment and settled in on the couch than she heard a knock at the door.
“Hurry up,” Victor said, knocking impatiently once again. “I have something to tell you.”
When she opened the door, he breezed past her and walked straight into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer. He held it out to her. “Want one?”
She shook her head. Beer always made her sleepy, and she had a few things to do before she could crawl into bed. Knowing the best time to talk to Carlita Bruno was in the early morning hours, she’d decided on the way home from the fairgrounds to swing by her hotel before work—assuming she was able to find out exactly where they were staying. She’d already prepared an excuse for being late if Egan gave her any grief about it. She’d simply say she was on assignment, which was partially true.
She walked past Victor into the living room and sat back down on the couch. “So what’s so important that you rushed over here at this time of night to tell me?”
He took a quick swig of the cold beer and slumped down beside her. “Guess who came by the shop today and paid full price for that bedroom set I snagged at the estate sale last weekend?”
“No way! Mrs. Cheapskate talked hubby into giving you the asking price?” She high-fived him. “I couldn’t believe you let them walk away without caving and reducing the price the other day. I guess this shows you were right. I wish I’d known you were about to come into some money before I stopped and inhaled a burger, though. You, my boy, would have been paying for my dinner at some fancy restaurant.”
He smirked. “Yeah, like you in a fancy restaurant on purpose is ever going to happen. With your taste for all the cheaper things in life, you must be the perfect date.” He paused and took another drink. “Where were you, anyway? With Michael working, I had no one to tell about my unbelievable talent as an antiques dealer. Do you have any idea how much money I made off that old set?”
She laughed. “Keep talking, and I guarantee you’re going to spring for dinner tomorrow night.” She paused. “Darn it! I have to go to the pre-festival picnic. I’ll never get that free meal out of you.”
“Can I go with you?”
She shook her head. “I can’t even take Alex. It’s only for the planners, vendors, and the press.”
“Okay, I’ll buy you a big plate of Ginny’s Chicken Cacciatore on Friday, then.” He slapped his head. “But you’ll have to go to her booth to get it. She’d probably put arsenic in it if I showed up there.”
They both giggled before Jordan got serious. “She’s missing, you know.”
“Who’s missing?”
“Ginny. I told the cops about her seeing Tina Calabrese and another man going up to the bedroom suite that night, but she disappeared before they could question her.”
He looked confused. “Disappeared like in went to visit a friend and spent the night or like something out of Creatures of the Dead? That’s on tonight at midnight, by the way. Wanna stay up and watch it with me?”
“Can’t. I have a big day tomorrow.” She fought down the guilt that suddenly overwhelmed her. “As for Ginny, I don’t know why she’s missing, but if something happened to her because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“You? Why would you think you had anything to do with her disappearance?”
She shrugged. “It just seems odd that it happened right after I sicced the cops on her.”
Victor took another swig of the beer and again offered her the bottle. After she shook her head, he leaned back into the couch and propped his feet on the coffee table. “Did you ever think she might’ve found someone to party with and is just off doing what adults do when they’re horny?”
That made Jordan laugh, and she leaned back and followed suit, positioning her feet next to his. “I’d forgotten how you have such a way with words. You’re probably right, though. Regardless, I’m going by her hotel before work to talk to her sister. With any luck, Ginny will be there, too, and I can smooth things over.”
“You’re not going over there to apologize for what I said, are you? Because the lady very clearly came on to me, and I was flustered. And I meant what I said as a compliment. She should be the one apologizing for hitting on a gay guy.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m going because I think Loretta Moseley stole Ginny’s cacciatore recipe out of my locked desk drawer and posted it in today’s Globe. Since I promised both Ginny and Carlita that I wouldn’t publish the recipes until after the festival ended, I feel like I need to explain to them why it showed up today. They’re going to kill me.”
“That sleazebag! Sounds like Loretta’s taking the competition to a new level.” He slapped his knee. “We need to move to Plan B, and since I know you’re not as devious as me, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.”
She turned to face him. “Oh, no. I know that look. You’re about to get me into trouble, aren’t you?”
He shook his finger at her. “No, I’m not. I’m just gonna show you how to get revenge, my dear, and how to beat Loretta at her own game while doing it. She may have an advantage because Uncle Earl owns the newspaper, but you, Princess, have a lethal weapon—me. I’m about to save the day for you.”
She laughed out loud. “You’re not going to wear red tights or anything, right?” she teased. “Because I’m not sure I can handle that tonight.”
“I don’t need red tights. You and I are going to war with Loretta Moseley without even breaking a sweat. And if my plan works out the way I think it will, this battle will take place while we sleep.”
He had her full attention now, and she leaned even closer to him. “Go on.”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You have the recipe for that awesome braided spaghetti bread Ginny served that day, right?”
She gave it a lot of thought before agreeing.
“Here’s what you need to do. I’ll rewrite the recipe in my own handwriting so Loretta will think it’s authentic, but I’ll leave out one or two of the key ingredients. Then before you leave, make sure she sees you putting it in that same drawer she pilfered. I guarantee we’ll see that recipe in Friday’s column, and guess what, sweetcakes? The readers are going to crucify her after they spend money to buy the ingredients, take the time to make it, and it sucks.”
“I’m not sure I can lower myself to her level and do that,” Jordan said, sadly. “I do have standards.”
“What do you mean? The lady stole your recipe, and if this plan works, it means she’s going to steal another one. Think about your readers in Ranchero. They deserve a culinary reporter with more ethics than that. Of course you can do it.”
She pondered the idea for a moment before deciding that Victor had a point. If Loretta did as he was convinced she would, it would be her own fault for stealing a recipe once again.
“I’ll do it,” she said, finally.
She got up from the couch and walked to where her purse was laying on the kitchen counter. After pulling out Ginny’s Spaghetti Bread Recipe, she handed it to him. “But I hope you’re wrong, and she doesn’t break into my desk again.” Even as the words left her mouth, she knew the chance of that not happening was slim. It was obvious Loretta Moseley would stop at nothing to get her old job back.
Victor lifted himself off the couch and joined her in the kitchen. After throwing his empty beer bottle into the trash, he kissed her cheek. “I’ll put the recipe in an envelope outside your door so you can take it with you to work tomorrow.” He moseyed over to the door, and halfway there, he looked back. “Call me on your way home tomorrow. I want to know exactly how she acted and if you did it or not.”
“Okay.” Suddenly, she remembered that she hadn’t told him ab
out playing flag football with Bernardo Petrone’s kid on the festival grounds. She was about to call him back, then remembered she had to make a few phone calls before it was too late. She’d see Victor tomorrow and could bring him up to speed on her snooping then.
After he was gone, Jordan called Alex to tell him she was going to tell Carlita about the recipes in the morning, and she asked if Kate could find out where the sisters were staying.
“Jeff talked to Captain Darnell after dinner tonight. They pulled the hotel security tapes and were able to see Ginny Bruno when she got off the first floor elevator and met someone in the lobby.”
“Could they tell who it was?”
“They’re not a hundred percent sure, but it looks like it could’ve been Georgette Calabrese”
“What? She’s not even on the planning committee, is she?”
“Not according to Kate, but she is one of the major organizers of the festival. Darnell is having her brought in as we speak to question her about it. But here’s the kicker. After Ginny walked away from Georgette or whoever, a man approached her at the elevator. They spoke briefly before they left by the side door, and the cameras lost sight of them.”
“Holy crap! And the police have no clue who the man was?”
“They’re not even sure it really was a man. Whoever it was had on a hoodie and must have known where the cameras were because he or she made sure not to look directly at them.”
“I hope Ginny’s alright,” Jordan said.
“Me too. The police will see how Georgette fits into all this, but I doubt they’ll find anything useful. The camera showed Georgette walking out the front door by the time Ginny reached the elevator.” He paused. “We won’t know anything more until the morning. In the meantime, I’ll find out from Jeff the name of Ginny’s hotel and get back to you.”
Ten minutes later she had that information and was already planning what she’d say to Carlita. She said a quick prayer that Victor was right and that Ginny was just off somewhere with the mystery man having the time of her life. She hoped the woman had already called her sister to let her know where she was.
Jordan twisted around suddenly, feeling a sharp pain in her lower back. Grinning to herself, she decided that playing flag football with a bunch of twelve-year olds might not have been one of her better decisions. She turned off the lights and walked gingerly to the bedroom.
Since the drive to Plainville fairgrounds would take about a half hour, she set her alarm for an hour earlier. Then she climbed into bed, but as tired as she was, she couldn’t get to sleep. Her mind raced with thoughts about her earlier meeting with Bernardo Petrone and what it all could mean.
Finally, after forty-five minutes of tossing and turning, she got out of bed and padded to the kitchen for a beer.
* * * * *
As Jordan pulled into the Dream Weaver Inn at the outskirts of Plainville, she immediately noticed the difference between this hotel and the Crown Royale where Marco had fallen to his death. The Crown had a cobblestone port-au-cochere and several valet attendants waiting to park cars. The Dream Weaver had neither.
After parking her Camry out front, Jordan walked into the lobby, pleasantly surprised to find it wasn’t the dump she was afraid it might be. Her eyes scanned the area and finally located the security cameras that had captured Ginny Bruno before she disappeared.
With the security footage in mind, she thought of the police questioning Georgette Calabrese about why she was in the lobby with Ginny. Curious how that interview had gone, she made a mental note to call Alex on her way to work to find out.
She walked up to the reservations desk. A middle-aged, bleached blond clerk looked up from the computer where she’d been playing Solitaire.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Carlita Bruno,” Jordan said, trying hard not to prompt her to put the black jack on the red queen.
The woman clicked off the screen and pulled up the list of guests, turning the monitor slightly so Jordan couldn’t see. When she looked up again, she said, “Sorry. Hotel policy prevents me from giving out her room number. I can call her, though, and let her know you’re down here. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t, but you can tell her that Jordan McAllister from the Ranchero Globe is here for a follow-up interview with her.”
The clerk looked totally unimpressed before she picked up the phone and called Carlita’s room. After announcing that Jordan was in the lobby, she talked for a few minutes before disconnecting.
“She’s in 782.” She pointed to her left. “Take that elevator over there.” She didn’t even wait for Jordan to thank her before she returned to her online card game.
On the elevator ride up, Jordan went over in her mind once again what she’d say to Carlita Bruno. The last thing she wanted to do was let her see how worried she was about Ginny. That would only make matters worse, especially if Carlita was already freaking out and thinking the worst.
She stepped off the elevator and followed the arrows to 782, swallowing the big lump that had formed in her throat. This was not going to be easy. When she got to the room, she knocked lightly on the door, and within seconds, it opened.
Carlita Bruno’s eyes widened when she saw her. “Didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
Jordan tried to smile and almost made it. “May I come in?”
Carlita stepped aside to allow her to enter. As soon as she was completely inside, Jordan turned to the woman, noticing the bags under her eyes from an apparent lack of sleep.
“Have you heard from your sister?”
Carlita lowered her eyes and shook her head. “I’m trying not to be worried, but I can’t help it. I keep telling myself that it’s just Ginny being Ginny. She’s been known to go off on her own for a few days to sort things out whenever her life becomes messy, and I’m hoping that’s what she’s doing now.”
“And is her life messy now?”
“I didn’t think so. We were both looking forward to a profitable festival, and then we were going to take our time driving back to New Jersey. Even talked about spending a few days in Branson.” She motioned for Jordan to sit down at the small desk. “Do you want something to drink? We have a cooler with sodas.”
Jordan shook her head. “I’m fine. I stopped to find out about Ginny, of course, but also to tell you that her recipe for chicken cacciatore was printed in yesterday’s newspaper. Another woman at the paper stole the copy from my locked desk drawer and published it without my knowledge. Since I promised not to print her recipes until after the festival ended, I wanted her to know I didn’t renege on our deal.”
The news didn’t seem to bother Carlita, and she shrugged. “In the big scheme of things, that seems unimportant right now. Unless I hear from Ginny soon, neither one of us will be participating in the festivities this year, anyway. I had them take down both of our signs until we know something one way or another.”
A mental picture of all those Italian Cream Cake Balls going to waste popped into Jordan’s mind before she mentally slapped the thought away. “Did Ginny find someone she was interested in?” she asked as delicately as she could.
Carlita picked nervously at the cuff of her blouse before a half smile covered her face. “Only your friend, but after he insulted her, she swore off men altogether.”
“My friend didn’t mean to hurt her feelings,” Jordan said, quickly defending Victor. “He actually thought he was complimenting her.”
Carlita tsked. “Isn’t that just like a man? I once had a guy who was courting me say that for a fat girl, I didn’t sweat much. Like I was supposed to be happy about that.” She tsked again before grabbing a Diet Pepsi from the ice chest. After pouring it into one of the clean glasses from the dresser, she looked up at Jordan. “I’ve been on Ginny’s case for years about her mustache, but she didn’t see anything wrong with it since our mom had one, too. I tried to convince her that back in Mom’s day, all the women had them, but the new generation of
Italian females now go for bare upper lips.”
She paused to take a sip. “Two hours after your friend told her he liked her mustache, she made an appointment at the beauty salon down the street and had it waxed off. Looks a hundred percent better now.”
“Really? So Victor’s ignorance didn’t totally ruin her day?”
“On the contrary. When she returned from the salon and checked out the finished product in the mirror, she even commented that maybe now, he’d like what he saw.”
It was Jordan’s turn to laugh. “I’m here to tell you that’ll never happen. My friend isn’t interested in women.”
Suddenly getting it, Carlita’s eyes twinkled with merriment. “Obviously, neither one of us is very observant.”
Jordan chuckled with her. “I still tease Victor about it. At any rate, he wanted me to tell her that he was sorry if he upset her.”
Carlita’s eyes again clouded over with worry. “I pray that she’s okay.”
“I’m sure she is, Carlita. Let’s hope she’s off somewhere working out the problems in her life.” Even as she said it, Jordan couldn’t help thinking it may already have been too late for hope or prayer.
“I appreciate you stopping by to tell me all this. I saw the article you wrote about me and Ginny, and I want to thank you for that, too.” She stood up. “Can you stay and have breakfast with me?”
Jordan sighed. “I wish I could, but I’m already going to get a lecture from my boss for being late.” She got up and walked to the door before digging into her purse for one of the business cards Egan had made when she’d taken over the job as the culinary reporter permanently. After she scribbled her cell phone number on the back, she handed it to Carlita. “Will you call me when you hear from Ginny?”
“I will. I appreciate you coming out here to check on her. Can I at least send you to work with a few cake balls?”
“As much as I love your cake balls, the next time I eat them, it will be Friday night at the Italian Festival, along with Ginny’s cacciatore.”
Chicken Caccia-Killer (A Jordan McAllister Mystery) Page 15
