by Avery Aames
“If you haven’t seen him, how did you learn all that?”
“The precinct clerk came in for a late afternoon snack. Boy, is she chatty.” Delilah poured me a glass of water. “I did leave a message for Urso about Aurora’s call to me, but he didn’t ring me back.” She pulled her cell phone from the pocket of her apron, scanned it for messages, and then eyed me with a sly smile as she dropped the phone back in the pocket. “I’ll bet you’d like to get your hands on this baby.”
How well she knew me. If I could review her call list, maybe I could see who her lover was—could it possibly be Urso? No. He wasn’t returning her calls, either. Soon, when I had the energy to scrabble, I would make her confess. Urso, too.
“Get my raclette potatoes,” I ordered.
Snickering, she strutted away.
Someone at the far end of the diner spanked a table. I swiveled on my stool and caught sight of Jawbone sitting with Zach’s mom, Ilona. I recalled Rebecca saying she had seen them entering the diner earlier. Ilona appeared a bit frazzled. She was shaking a tablet as if trying to wring information from it.
Jawbone swatted the table a second time. “Dang!”
Mr. Nakamura, the hardware store owner who used to practice law in Cleveland and often did legal work for clients in Providence, sat with the couple. He appeared the epitome of calm, but when didn’t he look like that? None of them had meals on the table, only beverages. And paperwork, strewn end-to-end.
Why had Jawbone spanked the table? What had upset him? Was he consulting Mr. Nakamura on a legal matter? A plea bargain, perhaps, although Nakamura didn’t typically do criminal work; he specialized in divorces and real estate contracts. I remembered Violet telling me that Jawbone had wanted to purchase the pub. With Tim out of the way, was Jawbone moving ahead with that plan? According to Deputy O’Shea, he and his cousins weren’t interested in keeping the place.
“Aiyee!” Ilona shouted, much to the surprise of everyone in the diner. “We got it. See?” She held up an iPad to her tablemates. “Here. Right here. Proof!” Like a display floor model, she spun in her seat to show the rest of the customers. “Jawbone is innocent. We have a copy of our Face It exchange.” Face It was a face-to-face cell phone application. “No court will be able to disprove digital proof. You’re free, babe. Free!”
Curious, I scrambled off my stool and moved closer.
Mr. Nakamura was peering at the iPad.
“I asked my geek friend,” Ilona was explaining, “who got a copy of the exchange from the cloud.” The cloud was computer-speak for an ethereal Internet data-collection space. “This”—she stabbed the screen—“proves Jawbone was talking to me the entire time that he said he was.”
Mr. Nakamura uttered something I couldn’t make out.
“Yes,” Ilona continued. “I know he was stupid to drive that way.” She leveled Jawbone with a withering stare. “Bluetooth, babe. Bluetooth.”
Jawbone flicked her arm with a finger, but a grin spread across his face.
“Take this to Chief Urso. Show him.” Ilona thrust the tablet at Jawbone. “I’ll pay the tab.”
Hurriedly Jawbone and Nakamura rose from the banquette and raced out of the diner.
Ilona raised a hand to get a waitress’s attention.
I sidled to her table.
“Charlotte.” She reached out as if we were old friends. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
The two of us had never met. How did she know my name? Maybe she’d read the proprietor names on the window of Fromagerie Bessette.
“I’m so glad you get to hear this.” Ilona pulled me into the booth and pushed aside the beverage glasses. “I know you found Timothy O’Shea, and I know he was your friend, and I’m so sorry—so sorry—that he died, but Jawbone is innocent.” She drummed the table with her fingertips. “Ooh, I love that man, and I knew he didn’t do it. Having proof is powerful, isn’t it? So who else do you suspect?”
I couldn’t believe she was being so open with me. “Ms. Mueller,” I began.
“Call me Ilona.”
“Ilona.” How could I possibly say that I also suspected her son of murder? I’d been thinking about Zach, on and off, ever since I’d realized he was connected to all involved. I worked my lower lip with my teeth. “I think that’s the police’s business.”
She waved her hand dismissively. “You’ve got a reputation. Don’t deny it. I’m not saying you’re meddlesome, but you are inquisitive and compassionate. Word gets around. I listen. Now, who else?” She drummed the tabletop again. Her fingernails looked raw from chewing.
“Ilona,” I sputtered.
“I know. You’re probably thinking, Who is this woman? We’ve never met. Never chatted. I’m not a cheese person. Never have been.”
“Lactose intolerant?” I asked.
“Actually there’s all sorts of food I can’t eat. The doctor says it’s because I’m such a sensitive little girl, the patronizing jerk.” She hiccupped out a laugh. “Thankfully, I can eat chocolate. I’d perish without chocolate.”
Close up, she had an appealing face: a few freckles, a simple nose, and a naturally turned-up mouth. The look didn’t match with her messy-hair/rattail hairdo choice. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of her.
“I’m sorry if I’m coming on too strong,” she continued, “but I’m excited. So, what’s the scoop?”
“Ilona, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you a thing. I’m not privy to Chief Urso’s investigation.” I sighed. When would he get back to me? If ever. I wanted to help. I know, I know. As Belinda Bell had rudely pointed out, I had plenty on my plate, with The Cheese Shop and family, but I also cared about Tim and Dottie, whom I’d considered my friends. I wanted resolution for Tyanne and Tim’s family. And my mind was whirling with theories.
“My son says he was questioned in regard to Dottie’s murder.” Ilona scrunched her cute nose. “Can you imagine? Both my men under scrutiny? Zach wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s as gentle as a lamb.”
As long as she’d brought up the subject . . .
I said, “I heard he gets into scrapes.”
She waved her hand. “Past tense. Back when he was thirteen. Not now. He was so angry then. At his father. Zach felt he needed to defend me. His father was . . . is a player. He didn’t hide the fact. Zach thought his father’s bad choices reflected on me. It didn’t matter that we’d been divorced over a decade.” She sighed. “My son can be quite the romantic.”
Was he a romantic right out of a Shakespeare play? Would he slay an enemy to preserve a secret?
“When Zach grasped that I really and truly was fine,” Ilona added, “he stopped lashing out.”
“I heard he was a wrestler in high school.”
Ilona smiled. “He still wrestles in an amateur league.”
Interesting.
“It’s a small group, but it keeps his skills up and his aggression low.” She tilted her head warily, like a wren waiting for a larger bird to attack. “You want to ask me something, don’t you?”
I nodded. “Zach used to date Belinda Bell’s daughter.”
“Indeed he did. They were quite a sweet couple.”
“Would he do anything to win her back?”
“Gack, no. He’s so over Aurora. She dumped him when she left town. He’s moved on.”
“To whom?”
“To Paige Alpaugh’s daughter, Pixie.” Ilona leaned forward. “Shh, don’t tell anyone, but they’re engaged.”
I flashed on the myriad rings Paige’s daughter wore on her fingers. At Sew Inspired Quilt Shoppe, Paige had snatched her daughter’s hand; the girl had fled. Had she been wearing a promise ring? Had that incensed Paige? And when Paige visited The Cheese Shop to fill out a contest form, she’d reacted oddly when I’d said Zach’s alibi was talking to his girlfriend at seven A.M.
“For obvious reasons,” Ilona went on, �
��the two-year age difference being one and Zach’s bad reputation being the other, Paige does not want Zach to date her precious girl.” Ilona chuffed like an irritated cat. “As if children listen. Zach and Pixie see each other on the sly.”
“How did you find out?”
“My son never hides anything from me. I might be the only one who knows about their relationship.”
I wondered about that. Paige had called Zach a ne’er-do-well, which implied that she knew about the relationship and didn’t approve. I said, “You don’t seem to mind that they’re a couple.”
“I believe in love,” Ilona crooned, then snickered. “Pixie is a doll, and she understands Zach. He’s a creative, like me. He wants to be a French chef.”
Don’t hold your breath, I mused. I’d dated a guy that my friends had dubbed Creep Chef. I’d been thrown for a loop when he left me in the lurch to pursue his lifelong dream.
Ilona said, “After Dottie fired Zach, he got a job at La Bella Ristorante.”
“As a chef?”
“I wish. No, as a waiter, but with the promise to graduate to the kitchen staff as soon as a position becomes available.” She twisted the diamond ring on her finger. She caught me watching her and stopped abruptly. “Not all girls understand creatives like Zach. Aurora certainly didn’t. Life was all about her.”
“I heard Aurora and Zach were talking on the telephone the morning Dottie Pfeiffer was killed.”
Ilona gaped. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because he was talking to Pixie.”
“How do you know?”
“I already told you. He tells me everything.” Ilona grumbled. “How dare Aurora lie about something like that! Did her mother put her up to it? I wouldn’t put it past Belinda to—”
“Hold on.”
“If Chief Urso gets wind, who knows whether he’ll believe Zach and Pixie were on the phone at the time?”
“Wait. I might have misspoken. You see, Aurora called Delilah to check up on Zach, and Delilah assumed they had talked that morning.” Dang. I should have nailed down that lead. Heat suffused my cheeks. “It’s great to know Zach has a solid alibi. I’m sure Chief Urso will believe him.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“I’m calling the chief right now.”
“Perfect.” I couldn’t slip away fast enough.
CHAPTER
After I finished my meal and exited the diner, I was thinking about Zach and his conversation with Pixie Alpaugh when whom did I spy? Zach. Not twenty feet from me. My grandmother has told me that thoughts can conjure up a telephone call from a person, but could thoughts summon a person in the flesh? No way. My mental powers were not honed to that degree.
Zach was walking past The Silver Trader jewelry store, acting as though he wasn’t interested in the display window, but he was. He peeked in three times before moving on. Was there a piece of jewelry he was admiring, or was he casing the joint?
Bad, Charlotte! Cut the kid a break. But how could I? I was as curious as all get-out. Zach couldn’t have enough money to buy something in the shop, not working as a waiter at La Bella Ristorante. Tips were good, but not that good. Was he a thief? Had he stolen Dottie’s brooch? Had his mother lied about his alibi? Mothers could be fierce protectors.
With no particular place to be, I hung back and observed him. He jammed his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the corner. Before he reached it, Ilona Mueller appeared. Next to her, Zach looked tall and muscular and intimidating. Ilona threw her arms around him and ruffled his hair. She said something to him. He grinned from ear to ear.
At the same time, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whipped around, so edgy that I threw my hands up to defend myself.
Jordan backed up, arms raised, a big smile on his face. “Whoa, don’t punch me. Whatcha doin’?” He knew exactly what I’d been doing.
In spite of the dozens of people roaming the street, I hurled myself into his arms for a hug and a kiss. Nobody seemed to pay attention to us; we were one of many enjoying the pleasures of a fond embrace. It was, after all, the most romantic week of the year.
When we came up for air, I said, “How did you know I’d be here?”
“I ran into Rebecca on her way to the theater. She said you went to the diner for dinner. Without me.”
“You didn’t answer my phone call. I assumed you were busy.”
“Never assume. When you tried to reach me earlier, I was tending to a sick cow.” He lifted my chin and kissed me again, simply, deliciously.
We strolled the streets, drinking in the atmosphere. We didn’t speak about what I’d gleaned at the restaurant from Ilona Mueller until we were back at my house, sitting at the kitchen table with warm mugs of fresh-brewed coffee and a plate of raspberry gem cookies. Rags and Rocket galloped around our feet, begging for love.
I obliged them with nuzzles and cooing and a treat for each, then said, “No more.” Obediently, the pets settled down.
“Okay,” Jordan said. “One more time. Why would it matter whether it was Aurora or Pixie talking with Zach at the time of the murder?”
“With conflicting alibis, Zach looks like he’s hiding something.”
“Unless they’re not conflicting. Have you questioned him?”
“I don’t—”
Jordan smirked.
“Fine,” I conceded. “I inquire, occasionally, and people tell me things.”
“But you haven’t talked directly to Zach.”
“No.” I took a sip of coffee and let it warm me.
“Have you talked to Pixie?”
“Like Paige would let anyone get within ten feet of her precious girls.”
Jordan winked. “Apparently Zach has gotten within ten feet.”
A notion began to take form in my mind. “Do you think Paige would kill Dottie and set Zach up to take the fall so her daughter would be free of him?”
“That’s a stretch.”
I took a cookie and bit into it. “I’ve left messages for Urso.”
“But he hasn’t returned your calls?”
“No. I’m sure he thinks he’s protecting me, Jordan, but who is helping him? Not his deputies. Not the county. He’s on his own. Have you seen him lately? He looks tired and strained. His eyes—” I wiggled my fingers beside mine. “He’s hurting, Jordan. He needs answers about Tim’s murder as much as you and I do.”
Jordan ran a finger along the back of my hand. “He might be hurting, but he has other things on his mind, too. Life things.”
“Life things?”
“Okay, love things.”
“Do you think?”
Jordan nodded. “He was in the park earlier today, buying flowers and balloons. I doubt they’re to decorate his office.”
My heart filled with hope. “I was wondering about that when U-ey hurried off to lunch the other day. He said he had a date, and he nearly broke his neck to dash across the street when Paige and her girlfriends were at The Country Kitchen.”
Jordan kissed my cheek. “Despite the curves life throws at us, we rally. He will, too.”
***
Jordan left at eleven P.M. He wanted to check on the sick cow and oversee the first milking. I tossed and turned.
At dawn on Wednesday, I awoke with a start. There were no sounds, nothing alarming. I was just tense. Meredith, Matthew, and the twins were due back today, so I decided to take Rocket for his bath. I dressed quickly, ate a light breakfast of apple slices paired with Cheddar, and then leashed up Rags and the dog and we strolled to Tailwaggers. On weekdays, they accepted early risers at seven fifteen. At first, the Briard was more than delighted to get a glimpse of the cardboard statue of his ladylove in the window, but when I led him inside and he believed I was going to abandon him—forever—he how
led like a trapped animal. I did my best to reassure him that forever was less than eight hours, but he didn’t believe me. Luckily the owners of Tailwaggers were gifted with animals and calmed him immediately.
At Fromagerie Bessette, while I booted up the computer in the office and checked email, Rags settled into his favorite spot. An hour later, I made a dozen pine nut and asparagus quiches and threw together some sandwiches using Bear Hill, a Grafton Village sheep’s cheese that was fruity and nutty, and Creminelli’s bacon salami, which was made with Duroc pork and all-natural cooked American bacon. The combination was superbly flavorful.
Midmorning Paige sauntered into the shop with two of her pals. She explored the store and poked her head into the annex. I flashed on how delighted Urso had acted the other day when he’d spied Paige and the same two women entering the diner. Was Paige the one Urso had his eye on, or was it one of the other two? Did Paige know? Maybe she had come into the shop hoping to catch sight of him.
“Help you, ladies?” I asked.
Paige pushed her friends toward the barrel set with wineglasses. “Be with you in a sec,” she said to them and ambled toward me. She offered a big toothy grin. “Charlotte, how are you?” She dragged out each syllable.
“Fine.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.” Was she playing some kind of guess-the-book game? Did she want me to yell: Alice in Wonderland? She swatted the air. “What is it with you? Always asking questions.”
I gulped. Had Freckles spilled that I’d suspected Paige of murder? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, being as vague as possible.
“A birdie told me you want to join my blogging education group.”
My shoulders eased instantly. I hadn’t been found out. Freckles had kept the secret. “Yes,” I said. “But I’ll bet you have a long waiting list of applicants.” Honestly, applicants? Had I regressed to being thirteen years old? Would she assume I was trying to butter up the most popular girl in school? How inane! Besides, hers wasn’t the only club. There were others in town that knew their way around social networking.
