The bells over the door announced I had a customer. "Be with you in a sec."
"No hurry, honey."
The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention. I'd recognize the voice of Jeannie Peterson anywhere.
It was silly to fear the woman since I'd known her for years. Even while bending over the case I knew her dark, brooding eyes were fixated on me. I righted myself slowly.
"Hi, Mrs. Peterson, what can I do for you?"
She pointed a finger the size of a sausage at my display case. "One chocolate chip. And Josie forgot my fortune cookie yesterday."
I reached for a bag. "Sorry about that. I'll make sure you get an extra one." I also gave her the cookie with the most chips since I figured she'd probably count them. "That'll be one dollar and twenty-five cents."
Jeannie reached inside her wallet. "Do yourself a favor, sweetie. Get yourself a new partner. Someone's going to take Josie out one of these days. That girl has no personality whatsoever. Never did. I know the things she's said about me."
Yikes. My forehead started to perspire, but I forced myself to smile. "I'll, uh, try to remember that." I reached my palm out to accept a handful of change.
"You're a nice girl. I have a great-nephew about your age. He's drop dead gorgeous. I'll have him call you."
Oh, good grief. "Thanks, Mrs. Peterson, but I'm not ready to date yet."
She reached inside the bag for a fortune cookie and cracked it open, never taking her eyes off me. "I'll have him call you," she repeated firmly.
"Um, okay." I winced.
She glanced down at the slip of paper in her hands, smiled, and met my eyes again. Hers were cold and calculating. "Want to know what it says?"
I didn't dare refuse. I watched her face, remembering the time Josie had gone to her front door unannounced on a dare from me. We'd been about nine or ten. Jeannie had been stirring a huge, black pot on the stove and talking to it. She'd invited Josie to join her for dinner. Josie, in turn, had shrieked and taken off down the road, where I waited in fear. Afterward, at my house, she swore Jeannie had asked her to be dinner, but my grandmother had said Josie heard wrong. Grandma Rosa explained that Jeannie was a lonely woman who missed her dead husband and not the witch from "Hansel and Gretel" we kept insisting she was.
Jeannie cackled out loud. "Get this. 'Things are not always as they appear.' Don't you find that interesting, Sally?"
It was as if she'd read my mind. "Yes, ma'am. Very interesting."
"Don't worry, honey. I know you didn't kill Amanda. I just hope everyone else knows it too. For your sake."
Her eyes searched my frozen face. All I could do was stare back.
She turned her back on me and headed for the door. "Have a good night, sweetie."
I opened my mouth to say "You, too," but only air came out. I watched her push the door open, bells jingling merrily as she departed.
I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand and glanced at the clock. Five minutes to five. Oh, how I needed to get out of here. What had Jeannie meant? Was she referring to Amanda or to herself? Did she know something about the murder?
I hurried over to lock the front door as my cell phone started ringing. I ran back over to answer it, not bothering to look at the screen first. Maybe Brian had forgotten to tell me something. I smiled. Talking to him would push the visit from Jeannie right out of my mind.
"Hello?"
"How's freedom treating you?"
I sucked in a sharp breath as I recognized the bitter, male voice on the other end of the line. "Colin, why are you calling me?"
"Perhaps you can tell me why I received a call from a cop named Brian Jenkins asking about Amanda Gregorio's death?" Colin snapped in my ear. "Did you kill her?"
"How can you even ask me such a thing?"
"Sal, get real. You were always jealous of Amanda."
My voice started to shake with rage. "Don't you dare make me out to be the bad guy here. You were sleeping with her. That's why Brian called, because of your relationship, which might still have been going on until her death, for all I know." Or even cared anymore.
"Oh, so you do know this clown?" Colin asked. "Then that's the reason he called me. You told him Amanda and I were fooling around. Anything to try to get more money out of me."
"What money? I never asked you for anything. And I caught you in the act. In our own home to boot, so don't try to deny it."
Colin snorted into the phone. "I'm so glad I divorced you. You really are nuts."
"Excuse me." Anger rose from the pit of my stomach. "I divorced you. Our marriage was never sacred. God knows, you proved that through your adultery."
He ignored my comment. "That idiot pig said Florida police might want to question me about my whereabouts that night. So I'm guessing they think I flew up to New York to commit the deed."
"Were you here? In town?" I held my breath.
"I haven't been anywhere near Colwestern. This is all some kind of setup to extract money from me, isn't it? Is this Brian guy your new boyfriend?" His tone was full of venom.
I was so furious I didn't trust myself to speak for a minute. I remembered how I'd once loved this man—or thought I had. Sadly, I didn't even know him anymore. My voice trembled as I spoke methodically into the phone. "The only thing I want from you is to be left alone. Forever."
I clicked off and took several deep gulps of air in an effort to calm myself. For a minute I stood there numb, unable to move. I wiped away a tear that trickled down my cheek and blinked several times. No. He can't hurt me anymore. Still, I couldn't help wondering how I had wasted ten years of my life on a man who never really loved me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mike's home was about ten minutes from my shop. The small cottage was located in one of the older neighborhoods of Colwestern. Houses were neat, small, and equally unimpressive. I had driven past his home a few years ago, when I'd come home for a visit, and been shocked to see its run-down condition. The lawn had been overrun with piles of leaves and dandelions knee-high. Paint was peeling off the sides of the house, and the roof was dilapidated. Now it appeared to have done a total turn around.
Fresh paint shone in the bright sunlight, a cheerful shade of yellow beneath a brand new asphalt roof. There was a screened front door I didn't recall, along with a modern porch and wooden steps that gleamed in the sunshine. The old ones used to creak when Mike would reach over to kiss me as we sat on the porch with our arms around each other on lazy summer evenings.
Mental head slap. Ugh, I'm doing it again. I checked my face in the rearview mirror. No visible signs of distress from Colin's nasty phone call. After I had calmed down, I'd stopped at the shelter to drop off cookies and gone to the ATM to withdraw half of Vido's requested bribe.
When Colin and I first started dating he'd been charming, but now I realized there were warning signs I'd chosen to ignore. My grandmother had begged me to reconsider marrying him, but I refused to listen. As much as I hated to admit it, I had been on the rebound and anxious to forget about Mike with someone else.
Little things Mike did for me that I took for granted, never happened with Colin. He didn't hold the door, kiss my hand, bring me flowers, or call me beautiful like Mike had. I'd been blind to his true feelings, especially when it came to children, the one thing I wanted most from life. Mike and I had discussed the subject only once, both agreeing we wanted a houseful of kids. True, we'd been young, but Mike had confided that he hoped to be the kind of father he never had—dependable, caring, and always there for his children.
My throat tightened. Ten years later and here I was, sitting in his driveway. Life could be a repetitive chain of events at times.
I eased myself out of the front seat. A Harley and a Camaro I didn't recognize were both parked in the gravel-coated driveway. I hoped he didn't have a lady friend visiting. Josie mentioned he'd dated several girls in the past few years.
I remembered the bike, or at least I thought it was the same one. Mike had on
ly taken me out on it a couple of times. He claimed they were dangerous, and he'd never forgive himself if something were to happen to me.
The front door was ajar, and through the screened door I could see the tiny living room with a beige couch and matching armchair. The walls were freshly painted white with wainscoting on the lower half. Heavy metal music blared from another room, and the sound of feet running on a treadmill was keeping time to it. I knocked loudly on the screen door, hoping he'd eventually hear me.
A black-and-white Shih Tzu appeared from out of nowhere, leaping at the screen and barking. I laughed and stooped down on the other side of the door until I was level with him.
"Hi, Spike. How's the boy?" He wagged his tail and tried to lick my fingers through the vinyl mesh. As I chuckled at his antics, I noticed the sound of the treadmill had stopped.
"He remembers you."
Mike stood behind Spike with a hand towel wrapped around his neck. His gray T-shirt was drenched in sweat. He shooed the dog away and opened the door for me. "Come on in."
Spike raced back over to me, rolling around on the floor while I rubbed his belly.
"I remember when we picked him out at the shelter. He's got to be near eleven, right? He still acts like a puppy."
"Yep, he's a big baby." Mike turned away from me to remove his shirt.
I tried to keep my eyes on the dog, but it was difficult as I caught a glimpse of his broad, sculpted chest. I struggled to look away. More memories came flooding back—quite pleasant ones. Heat flooded my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted him watching me.
"I'll be right back." Mike left the room, and the screaming of Metallica stopped suddenly. After a few minutes he returned wearing another T-shirt, this one light blue. I watched the muscles bulge through his shirt as he reached in the fridge for a Gatorade. "Want one?"
I swallowed hard. "No, thanks."
"I have soda, or some beer, if you prefer."
My nose wrinkled. "Definitely not."
"Right. Alcohol and you don't mix very well." Mike grinned and gestured toward the couch. "Sit down."
I sank into the comfortable seat, and Spike immediately leaped into my lap. He nudged my hand with his nose for me to pet him. "I'm sorry about your shoes. I'll pay for them."
"I'm not worried about it." He took a sip from the plastic bottle and stood in the archway of the kitchen, still staring at me.
Well, this was awkward. "You've done a nice job with the house. It looks great."
"Thanks. I guess you could say I have my stepfather to thank for that."
I remembered his stepdad well. He'd been a total bastard to Mike. "What do you have to thank him for?"
"He taught me two things. The construction business and how to take a beating. Well, three things, actually. What kind of father I never want to be to my kids." He sipped at his drink again and continued to watch me. His next question hurt. "How come you and Colin didn't have kids?"
"That's kind of a personal question, you know."
"This is me, remember? I know how much you always wanted children. You used to have a great time babysitting the kids down the road." His tone softened. "I loved watching you with them."
My heart stuttered inside my chest. I didn't want to tell him about Colin's true feelings because I suspected it would open a whole new can of worms. "The timing wasn't right. Besides, it's better we didn't have any because of the divorce. How's the business going?"
"It's steady. I've got work lined up through the end of the year."
"Even in the snow?"
Mike grinned. "I'll be doing indoor jobs then."
"Oh, right." I glanced around, surprised at how neat the place was. Whenever I'd come to see Mike before, it had always been in shambles.
Mike guessed my thoughts. "Yeah, it doesn't seem the same without all of Mom's empty liquor bottles around here, huh?"
I caught a reflection of pain in his baby blues. He'd known more hurt in his twenty-eight years than some people endured during their entire existence on earth. Life wasn't fair sometimes.
"I was sorry to hear about your mother and wish I could have come to the funeral. Bad timing." My marriage had just started to unravel before the death of Mike's mom. When I told Colin I wanted to fly up to visit my parents for a few days, he'd insisted money was too tight, even though we always found a way when he wanted something.
Colin had been too busy with his new bartending career to care about my needs. If I had realized back then how much he enjoyed the attention women lavished on him while he mixed their martinis, I could have gotten out of our sham of a marriage much sooner.
Mike raised his Gatorade. "I got your flowers. It was nice of you to think of me."
Of course I'd thought of him. How could I not? He'd been my first serious boyfriend, lover, and best friend. Years ago, I had had no doubt in my mind that he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. How things had changed in a hurry.
His eyes never left my face. "You still look exactly the same as you did ten years ago."
I laughed. "Thanks, but I think you need glasses."
"I've got perfect vision. I know beauty when I see it." His voice grew husky.
Butterflies danced in my stomach as Mike came over and sat down next to me on the couch. If I'd been an ice cube, I would have melted on the spot. I cleared my throat, desperately trying to think of a diversion. "I need to ask you something. It's personal."
His mouth twitched. "I like the sound of this already."
It didn't take much thought to guess where his mind was headed. "Actually, it's about Amanda."
Mike's smile disappeared, and the lines around his mouth hardened. "What about her?"
"I was over at her spa today. The technician was talking about her death and happened to mention—" Crap. What was I going to say? Excuse me, Mike, were you involved with her?
Mike leaned back against a pillow and reached over to pet Spike, nestled on my lap. "Let me guess. You want to know why I was at her spa, and you didn't think it was for a manicure."
"Something like that."
He pushed a strand of damp hair back from his forehead, revealing a small, deep scar over his left eye where his stepfather had once thrown a beer bottle at him. "Why do you care, Sal? Did you think I was having a fling with her?"
"No, of course not."
"If you must know, she asked me to install a Jacuzzi for her. Of course, with her, she always had to have an angle. 'Sure, Mike. I'll pay what you're asking, but you have to take me out to dinner first.' Or, 'I think I need you to come over to my apartment, so we can discuss the details for the hundredth time. Excuse me while I slip into something more comfortable.'"
My mouth went dry as I focused my attention on stroking Spike's soft fur.
"I never would've taken the job if I'd known she was going to drag it out so long. I'm sorry she's dead, but Amanda wasn't exactly on my favorites list, if you recall. She used to refer to my family as poor white trash." A muscle ticked along his jaw.
"Yes, I remember."
He took another sip of his drink. "And contrary to public belief, I don't date every girl in town."
"That's not what I heard." Ugh, me and my big mouth. I wanted to pinch myself. Hard.
His lips turned upward into a quirky smile. "Oh, really?"
I shrugged. "Just a rumor I heard. Um, in the bakery one day."
Mike reached over to place his hand on mine. The sudden contact sent a spark through my body. "I may have been out with some other girls, but I wouldn't exactly call it dating." He lowered his voice. "There's only been one woman for me. And I was stupid enough to let her go years ago without a fight."
I sucked in a sharp breath while my cheeks grew hot. "I didn't think you were dating Amanda."
Mike released my hand. "Well, perhaps you feel I'm responsible for her death."
"No." I stared at him in shock. "I know you'd never do something like that."
"Then what are you doing here?"<
br />
What am I doing here? Spike leaped off my lap and tottered into the kitchen, oblivious to the situation he was leaving behind. I stood, unsure what to say next. Josie was right. It hadn't been a good idea to come. Mike and I had way too much history together.
"Okay." I decided to come clean. "I was curious why you were at her apartment."
Mike eased himself off the couch. "Too bad. I was hoping you came to see me because of what transpired between us the other night."
I didn't answer. The words stuck in my throat.
"Sal, you need to hear me out, once and for all."
"That part of our life is over, Mike. We need to let it go." I turned in the direction of the door.
Mike grabbed my arm. "Would you please listen for once? I think you owe me at least that much."
He was right. The night I found him in Brenda's arms, I ran instead of staying to confront the situation. I could be headstrong and impatient, refusing to listen. When my stubborn streak was paired with his jealous fits, we'd had some epic battles. We never managed to stay mad at each other for very long, though, and the making up that followed had always been wonderful.
I turned back to face him and crossed my arms at my waist. "Okay. I'm listening."
Mike gestured toward the couch. The instant I sat down, Spike reappeared and leaped into my lap again. I stroked him behind the ears while he wagged his tail in acute happiness.
Mike sat at the other end of the couch, careful not to touch me this time. "I was really pissed off when I came back with your drink and found you dancing with Neil Wescott."
I couldn't believe my ears. "He saw me standing there alone and asked me to dance. It wasn't a big deal."
"It was the prom."
"Good grief, I didn't want to be mean. He came by himself, the poor guy. Why did you have to make a scene? Were you that insecure about us?"
Mike's jaw tightened. "When I went outside to cool off, Brenda was sitting in her car and called to me. She had a bottle and offered to share."
"I knew you'd been drinking. I smelled it on your breath when I—I found you."
Tastes Like Murder (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 1) Page 12
