by Diana Orgain
Gus accepted the glass. “No. I wasn’t really close with Oscar. Our hostess, Melanie, and he were dating. A little off and on, but she knew him pretty well.” He took a sip of his beer. “I talked to her briefly this morning when I left the police station. She’s in complete shock. Said she didn’t know of any threats or anything like that.”
“He had to have been killed because he saw or knew something, right? Otherwise it doesn’t make sense,” I said.
“Right.”
“Did you ask Melanie if Oscar saw anything the night Dan was killed?”
Gus shook his head. “She told me she didn’t know anything. She’s been interviewed by the police already, too. Apparently told them the same thing.”
“Maybe I can talk to her. I mean, what if she’s scared and just not saying anything?”
Gus nodded and pulled out his cell phone. “Here’s her number. I had the same thought, but it seemed to me she was telling the truth.”
I punched her number in my phone, and got her voice mail. I left her a message, then collapsed onto the couch next to Gus, feeling completely defeated.
Gus sat still, looking like he was falling into a depression.
Beepo sat at our feet, seemingly waiting for something exciting to happen.
“Gus, can I ask you something?”
He gave me a curious look. “You can ask me anything, Maggie.”
“Did you and Dan fight all the time?”
A look of surprise crossed Gus’s face. “Who told you that?” Gus’s shoulders slumped. “Well, we were fighting a lot lately, but that doesn’t mean I killed him. We were just going through a rough patch.” He sulked in silence for a moment, then took a sip of his beer. “That’s one of the hardest parts of his passing—that we were in bad spot. I hate that I can’t tell him how much he meant to me and…”
The look on Gus’s face was full-on anguish, and I wished there was something I could say to soothe him. We sat for a moment and looked out at the ocean. Finally I asked, “Did Dan want out of the business?”
Gus’s spine straightened and he looked insulted. “No! Absolutely not. You can ask his folks if you don’t believe me. They came to see me yesterday—”
“Me, too.”
Gus frowned. “Why did they come to see you?”
“I think they’re looking for answers, too,” I said simply.
Gus sighed, but said nothing.
“Did you want to buy him out of the business, have full control in the restaurant…?”
“You know, one of the reasons I wanted to go into business with Dan is because he was savvy about the accounting side of things. I don’t care so much about that. I just want to provide a nice experience at my restaurant, you know? People go out to eat to create a memory, get engaged, celebrate a birthday, a baptism. I wanted DelVecchio’s to be part of that. Be part of the fabric of people’s lives. I don’t care about the money. When Dan told me we were losing our shirts…”
“DelVecchio’s is in trouble?”
Gus buried his face in his hands. “Dan said we had about one month’s operating expenses in the books. I don’t know … what I’m going to do.…”
“Wait, have you seen the books?”
Gus looked up at me from his sunken position on the couch. He looked a bit like he had a fever, his face flushed and sweaty, his eyes wild. “What?”
“You said Dan told you DelVecchio’s was in dire straits, but do you know that for certain? How often do you review the books?”
He scratched his head. “Maggie, I’m a chef. I don’t look at the books. I mean, he’d show me spreadsheets and stuff, but what? The columns aren’t any bigger than a gnat’s eyelash and—”
“Can I see them?”
“Huh?”
I sat up straighter. “Will you show me the books? Maybe I can help.”
“You want to help me save DelVecchio’s?”
“Yes.”
His face cleared a bit and the skin around eyes relaxed. “Why?”
I bumped his arm with my shoulder as I leaned into him. “So you can cook for me, silly.”
He wrapped an arm around me. “Maggie,” he said in a low voice that made my insides vibrate, “that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
He gently placed a hand under my chin and lifted my face toward his. Electricity fired between us.
Gus was definitely not gay!
His lips tilted toward mine, but before they reached me, Beepo sprang into my lap and growled at him. Gus burst out laughing.
* * *
Later that day, Gus and I decided to try to catch Oscar’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Melanie, on the way to the farmers market to stock my fridge.
We walked on the cobblestone streets toward Magic Read. Gus said the guy that worked there with the Mohawk was Melanie’s brother, and we took a gamble that he might know where to reach her.
When we got there, the Mohawk dude was sprawled on a multicolored carpet doing a trick for Coral. Coral watched him excitedly, her eyes fixed on the card the clerk held in his hands.
“But how did you know it was the queen of hearts?” Coral demanded.
The clerk laughed. “You always pick the same card. Anyone would be able to guess it. Even they would know which one it was.” He gestured toward Gus and me, and the snake tattoo that covered his arm danced. “I’ll do it again. This time pick another card.”
Coral wiggled her fingers at me, and Beepo shot into her lap. She stroked his head affectionately and whispered into his triangle ear, “But the queen of hearts is my favorite!”
Gus pulled out a chair for me on the same carpet, then flicked a chair backward for himself to sit on, his arms resting on the back of the chair. We watched the clerk surprise Coral three more times, by picking her card out of the pack. He even indulged a small math tutorial from me when I started out yelling out, “Now add three to the number. How about take away one?”
When he began shuffling the cards again, Gus asked, “Say, do you know how to reach Melanie?”
The clerk frowned. “Didn’t she show up to work?”
Gus’s eyes darted toward Coral, who was busy murmuring sweet nothings to Beepo. I figured he didn’t want to talk about Oscar’s demise in front of her. Instead, he said, “We’re closed for the week. I just need to talk to her.”
The clerk shrugged. “Did you try her cell?”
Gus and I nodded.
The clerk chewed on his lower lip. “She’s probably at the caves.”
Gus clapped him on the back. “Thank you. Next time, you’ll have to show me a couple tricks.”
The clerk nodded, then waved at me. “I’ll see you Friday at the Tails and Tiaras fund-raiser.”
“Oh, you’re coming?” I asked.
“Not coming. Performing. Yolanda came by yesterday and asked me to do an opening number for The Howling Hounds. Right after the auction.”
Oh my God: auction, magic, music. It was going to be one busy night.
“You’re the opener? That’ll be fun.” I looked around at the area where we were seated and I couldn’t imagine Evie playing in such a small space. “Where does she play when she comes here?” I asked.
The clerk frowned. “Here? Evie doesn’t play here.”
Hadn’t she told me yesterday she had a gig here?
“Oh, maybe I misunderstood her. Well, I’ll look forward to seeing you perform at The Wine and Bark.” I leaned in closer to him, out of earshot of Gus and Coral. “Can you make people disappear? There’s a few patrons I’d like to get rid of, and their dogs,” I said. Beepo howled insanely at us.
The clerk smiled widely. “I’m perfecting that trick myself.”
I waved at him and Coral as Gus and I left the shop. Beepo followed, albeit reluctantly.
“The caves are near the farmers market. We can stop by there first and see if we can find Melanie, what do you say?”
Beepo barked a response as if Gus had asked him.
“That so
unds great,” I said. “I haven’t been out to the caves in so long. Not since I was a kid and we’d visit Grunkly. I’d love to see them.”
* * *
The sound of the Pacific can be soothing and frightening at the same time. As we looked over the ocean from the cliff above the caves, the relentless pounding of the water was downright deafening. It rattled my teeth and sent a shiver of fear up my legs.
Beepo pressed his nose into my ankle and I picked him up. He was shaking and attempted to bury himself inside my shirt. “Do you think she’s down there?” I asked Gus, indicating a trail that meandered to the caves.
He shrugged. “We won’t know until we hike down there.” He looked at me speculatively. “Do you want me to go? And you and Beepo stay up here?”
Beepo yapped appreciatively, his tail wagging madly.
“No, no, no. I can hike down.”
Beepo barked sharply at me in protest. As if in answer, the sea lions that sheltered in the caves began to bark, and Beepo’s ears shot up. Suddenly, he was curious about whatever lived down below, and he raced out of my arms and darted toward the trailhead.
Gus followed Beepo and said to me, “Let me go first. It’s steep. You can hold on to my shoulder if you want.”
He led me down the trail, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks increasing as we descended toward the shore. The dirt trail was slippery and slick. I squeezed Gus’s muscular shoulder to steady myself. If I hadn’t been scared out of my mind about toppling into the ocean, I might have found the setting romantic. As it was, I wondered about my sanity, coming here with a man that just last night had been held by the police on suspicion of murder.
As if reading my thoughts, Gus turned around and said, “Don’t worry, Maggie. You can trust me.”
I smiled, hopefully in a reassuring manner.
“The farmers market is much less treacherous,” he said. “We only have to navigate zucchinis and tomatoes.”
My foot slipped out from under me and I slid up against his back. He swung an arm around my waist and kept me from falling into one of the blueberry shrubs that lined the Pacific Coast Trail. My heart unexpectedly leapt as I felt his arms around me. I giggled, relief flooding me. It was fine to trust Gus. At least with my life; I wasn’t so sure about trusting him with my heart, but nonetheless I clung a little tighter to him.
All I wanted to do was stay snuggled up next him. Beepo, however, had a mind of his own and barked up ahead of us, his tiny feet having already carried him to the first cave.
Gus cleared his throat and separated from me slowly. “Let’s see if Melanie’s here.”
The cave was cold and dark, and Gus’s voice echoed off the rocks as he called out, “Mel? Melanie?” The tide was low, thankfully, otherwise we would have been in ankle-deep water, calling her name over and over again as we searched the recesses of the cave.
“Gus?” a voice called out.
Outside of the cave was a small woman; she waved at us and motioned us out. She had a blanket laid out and a small knapsack open. Beepo shot out ahead of us and buried his nose into her bag.
“Your brother told us you might be here,” Gus said, by way of explanation. “I was worried about you. Are you all right?”
Melanie lowered herself onto the blanket and pulled Beepo onto her lap. “Yeah, I just needed time to think. This is where I come…” She looked me up and down.
Gus said, “This is my friend, Maggie. She’s taken over The Wine and Bark while Rachel’s away.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. “We were so saddened to find Oscar.”
Melanie nodded. “Thank you. I’m still in shock. I feel like he’s going to text me at any minute and ask me out.”
Gus settled himself next to her on the blanket; she buried her face into his chest and wept. He hugged her, letting her cry, and stroked her long black hair. She was young, probably only twenty, and the tears stopped just as abruptly as they’d started.
“We were supposed to go out last night, you know, since the restaurant was closed. He texted me and said he would meet me, but he never did. Then this morning the police showed up. I can’t believe he was killed.” She clutched at Gus’s arm. “Just like Dan!”
Gus pressed his lips together, his face showing his distress.
“Someone shot him in the back,” Melanie said. “The police said it looked like he was running away from someone. That he almost got away, because the gun they fired was so small, but the bullet lodged in the wrong place.…”
I suddenly felt weak, and I fell to my knees on the blanket. Beepo circled around me protectively.
Oh God, say it isn’t so.
Clearing my throat, I found the strength to ask the question. “Did the police mention what type of gun?”
Melanie nodded. “Ruger P45, whatever that is.”
I knew exactly what it was. It was a small-caliber handgun … the kind Rachel owned.
Chapter Twenty-five
Beepo and I followed Gus around the farmers market like two children following an all-star celebrity. Everything Gus did seemed important: If he picked up a tomato and sniffed it, I wanted to know why. If he passed on the broccoli and selected the zucchini instead, I questioned him. When he squeezed the eggplants, I asked him what he was looking for.
Beepo, of course, didn’t ask any questions, he only begged for scraps.
Finally, after a fragrant trip spent taste-testing our way through the market, we headed back to my apartment, stopping briefly at DelVecchio’s for Gus to dig out the financial reports.
I hadn’t let on to either Gus or Melanie that the gun that killed Oscar was the same type of gun Rachel owned, but when we stopped at DelVecchio’s for the reports, I told Gus I would pick out a bottle of wine for us for dinner from The Wine and Bark. It was an excuse, of course: I was dying to look for the Ruger P45. If I knew my sister, she’d likely kept it in the bar for protection. Somewhere close, where she could get to it quickly but also a place that was hidden.
I avoided looking down the alley where we’d found Oscar; nevertheless, I still saw that there was yellow crime scene tape cordoning it off. We’d stay closed for the night and maybe the following night, too, or until the tape was removed. Staying closed wasn’t the worst thing; after the day I’d had, the last thing I wanted to do was tend bar.
I absently wondered if we’d be open for the Tails and Tiaras fund-raiser. It was good Yolanda was out of town; otherwise, she might just have had a stroke at the thought of canceling it.
The first place I looked was the small storage room that Yolanda wanted Evie to rent in exchange for the storefront side. Rachel had several boxes stacked there, mostly liquor but a few marketing boxes with leashes, bowls, and even doggie sweaters with the Wine and Bark logo on them.
When I finished searching the small storage room, I rummaged around behind the bar, opening and closing every conceivable drawer I could find. Beepo followed me around as I scoured the bar, yapping at me until I gave him a Bark Bite. Next, I searched the makeshift kitchen and came up emptyhanded.
I shuddered, thinking that I’d left Max alone in the bar the other night when I’d gone to DelVecchio’s … could Max have taken the gun? Did he have a reason to frame Rachel?
Where else could the gun be? Was it at her apartment and I’d missed it? Of course, I’d had no reason to look for it when I’d been there last.
Through the window I could see Gus making his way across the courtyard. I grabbed a decent bottle of merlot and rushed out to meet him.
* * *
The smell of tagliatelle al sugo di funghi permeated my entire apartment. At the farmers market we’d picked up the key ingredients, like mushrooms, onions, and garlic. Gus sang in the kitchen while he cooked and I pored over his spreadsheets.
The restaurant brought in plenty of money, yet every month showed a loss. It seemed like money had been disappearing every which way. Poor cash handling, poor records, and worse, poor management on Dan’s part.
And worse still, it was clear that someone was stealing from DelVecchio’s.
A sickening thought kept pinballing around my head: either Dan had taken the money and Gus was innocent, or someone else was stealing it.… Could Dan have been killed to keep the truth from coming out?
I shifted on the couch to watch Gus cook. He was chopping garlic so expertly it looked like a dance.
He must have felt my gaze, because he looked up and asked, “You like garlic bread, Maggie?”
“Love it,” I said.
A smile brightened his face, but I could see the toll the night at the police station had taken on him. He uncorked the bottle of merlot and poured me a healthy serving. “Did you know new studies show drinking wine is better for you than going to the gym?”
I took the glass he offered and smiled. “Somehow I’ve always known that.”
“Me too,” he said, sipping from his own glass.
“Anyway, I think I’m allergic to gyms.”
He chuckled. “Well, they certainly don’t smell like this.” He sniffed the wine, which was slowly opening up and becoming fragrant, but it was no competition for the aroma wafting out from the cooking garlic bread.
He leaned back on one of the bar stools at my kitchen counter, crossing his long, jean-clad legs at the ankle. I couldn’t help but notice how sexy and taut his entire body was.
Trying to navigate to a safe topic, I said, “Hmmm. I think it smells like heaven in here. Don’t you?”
He said, “Only if heaven smells like garlic.”
“Well, what else can it smell like?”
Gus smiled. “The ocean: salty, rich, and intense.”
“Does intensity smell?”
“Yeah.”
“It does? What does it smell like?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Energy. Metallic.”
A chill came over me, goose bumps covered my arms, and I shuddered.
Gus frowned. “What is it?”
“Metallic. That’s what blood smells like. The Wine and Bark, when I went in that night and found Dan dead—there was a metallic scent in the air.”
Gus’s face grew solemn, and he dragged a hand through his thick dark hair.
