by Linda Wiken
J.J. finished the proposal at the same time her stomach started alerting her it was time for dinner. She read over the proposal again before e-mailing it to Olivia Barker. Then she printed out a copy and left it to be filed by their part-time office worker, Brittany Stewart, when she was in on Friday after school.
Next on her list was a stop at Rocco G’s on her way home for some advice on what vermouth to use for her pizzaiola. With only a few days until the big dinner, she could feel her stress level starting to rise whenever she thought about it.
She found him alone in his shop, staring at the shelves of olive oil to the left of the checkout counter.
“Hi, Rocco. Hope I’m not interrupting. You seem deep in thought.”
He turned to face her and smiled, but not before she noticed the worry in his eyes. “J.J., my friend. How nice to see you. And what can I do for you today? Some shopping, some advice, or some espresso? Or maybe all three? Let me fix you an espresso to lay the workday at rest.”
“That would be nice. Can you join me?”
“Delighted to.” He gave her a small bow and went to tend to the drinks while J.J. settled at a bistro table. She watched the passing traffic on the street until Rocco joined her a few minutes later.
“For la bella signorina.” Rocco sat across from her and lifted his cup. “Salute!”
“Salute!” She sipped and savored. “Mm, this is delicious. There’s something about the beans you use—or is it the machine? Or the person making it?”
Rocco chuckled. “Perhaps a combination of the three. Now, what brings you here?”
She took another sip before answering. “I need your advice on vermouth.”
“Ah, the big Italian feast is this Sunday, am I right?”
She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve been so busy at work lately that I haven’t given it another thought since we last spoke. Now I’m starting to feel a bit anxious.”
“You must not let your mind travel to that place. It will show in your cooking. Have confidence in your ability to do this. I have complete faith in you.”
J.J. laughed. What a delightful man. “Easier said than done, I’m afraid, although I do appreciate the vote of confidence. I’ll need a lot more than that in order to get on track.”
“Si. It has been a difficult week, has it not? I understand the police were questioning you about Antonio Marcotti’s death.”
“It’s all around the village, isn’t it?” J.J. sighed. “Yes, they did but I sort of have an alibi, so I’m hoping they’re through with me.” She crossed her fingers.
“They may have found another suspect to take your place,” Rocco said glumly.
“Who? What have you heard?” Did he know about the police questioning Evan Thornton? She changed her mind about that when she looked at his face. “Not you!”
“Oh yes, me. I spent most of the afternoon at the station answering questions. Being interviewed, they called it. The inquisition, I call it.”
“But why? Besides both being in the business, why would they suspect you?”
Rocco finished his espresso and looked at her a few moments before speaking. She felt a slight chill run down her spine. “We were rivals. And, we were sworn enemies. Everyone knows. It was a matter of honor, from the past. However, we both chose to hang on to the past and let it color our dealings in the present. Foolish, when I think of it now. But for all these years, it’s been very important to us both.”
“May I ask what it was about?”
Rocco shook his head. “Something in the old country, before we came here. We were from the same village, did you know that? Went to school together. We were friends then. And we both immigrated to this country around the same time, but we were no longer friends at that point. A woman . . .” His voice trailed off and he appeared trapped in that past.
J.J. wasn’t sure what to say. She waited, turning her gaze once again to the outside.
Finally, Rocco roused himself and sat up straighter. “I did not do it. I am not a murderer. I must make sure the police believe that.”
“I know there are at least two other suspects, and from what I understand, he made a lot of enemies. Surely there’ll be more names added to that list.”
Rocco snorted just as the front door opened. J.J. was astonished to see Ty Devine enter. He looked surprised to see her, then smiled. She couldn’t help but notice that the smile reached his eyes, which seemed to twinkle a brighter blue as he got closer.
“Well, well. Tracking down the suspects, Ms. Tanner?”
“What? No. Rocco is helping me with some cooking advice.” She glared at Devine, resenting his intrusion, even if he was easy on the eyes.
Devine held out his hand to Rocco and introduced himself. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you a few questions about Antonio Marcotti.”
Rocco sighed and pointed to a chair at the next table, which Devine pulled over. “No, I suppose I must get used to this. In fact, J.J. and I were just talking about his untimely death.”
J.J. frowned just as Devine looked at her. He smiled, like he’d been right, which annoyed her even more.
“I understand you knew Marcotti for a long time and had some history,” Devine stated. “Do you have an alibi?”
“No. I was at home, asleep at the time of his death. Alone except for my cat.”
J.J. looked at him. A fellow cat lover. Nice.
“Were you able to provide the police with any help in the matter?”
Rocco shrugged. “Not really. They were aware that Marcotti was not an easy man to get along with and I know they were trying to make me lose my temper. But I did not. I would not fall into that trap and appear to be one who flew off the handle easily and maybe committed murder in a fit of rage.” He looked pleased with himself, which made J.J. wonder if the police had given Rocco many details about the murder. She hoped so.
“I’m sure the police have a few pages of suspects by now,” she offered. “His reputation was well known, apparently.”
Devine nodded. “If you were looking for a murderer, where would you go next?” He looked at Rocco.
“You know that he was part owner of the High Time Fitness Center?”
Devine nodded. J.J. leaned forward. It was news to her.
Rocco looked at his hands, folded on the table in front of him, and then up at Devine. “Did you also know that he was having an affair with one of the personal trainers?”
Devine shook his head. “Tell me about it.”
“Her name is Candy Fleetwood and she’s young enough to be his granddaughter. But he always was a fool when it came to le signor. It’s a widely known secret in the Italian community. I’m sure even his beautiful but aging wife is also aware of it.”
J.J. glanced at Devine, but his face didn’t give away a thing. He stood and stuck out his hand. “Thanks for the tip. Nice to meet you, Mr. Gates.” He nodded at J.J. and left.
Rocco stood and gathered the cups. He looked out the window before walking back to the counter. “Perhaps that man will get at the truth.”
J.J. took that as her hint to leave. “Let’s hope so.” She realized when she reached home that she hadn’t gotten any advice after all.
Or maybe she had.
CHAPTER 13
J.J. consulted her computer for the address of the High Time Fitness Center before leaving the house on Friday morning. She needed her car for this prework visit and thought over how to handle her questions as she made her way to the parking lot in back of her apartment building. Her once-shiny new Mirage needed a wash, but she didn’t know when that would happen. Not with her schedule these days.
By the time she arrived at the center, she’d come up with a plan. She’d ask to talk to Candy Fleetwood about setting up a personal fitness program, and if she wasn’t able to slip in the necessary questions about Marcotti, she’d follow through and enroll
for the bare minimum program. It would probably even do her some good, she rationalized.
She had to wait twenty minutes for Fleetwood to appear. “I’m sorry about the wait, but I had to finish up with a client. You asked specifically for me. Who recommended me?” Candy looked delighted and not at all suspicious, to J.J.’s relief. Nor in mourning. But as J.J. well knew, looks could be deceiving.
“You know, I can’t remember who. It was a few months back. Probably a client. But I’d written down the name of this place and yours, and today’s the day I decided I needed to do some work on my body.”
Candy grinned. “All over, or are there specific areas you want to focus on?”
J.J. shrugged. “I don’t really know. Tell me what you’d suggest, then I’ll have something to base a decision on.”
“Sure. Come with me.”
J.J. took the opportunity to figure out what had attracted Marcotti to Candy as she led the way through double doors, down a hall, and into the gym area. There was the obvious one: her stunning good looks, in a young, blonde cheerleader way. But she also seemed genuine, although it was probably too soon to judge that. As Candy pointed out the various stations, she sounded so bubbly that J.J. felt herself being sucked into the fitness vortex.
“So, what do you think?” Candy asked, as they wound up back at the front reception desk. “Do you want to sign on and start tomorrow?”
J.J. didn’t really, but she hadn’t found a way to ask her questions, so she agreed.
Candy made a small yippee sound, at the same time clapping her hands and bouncing on the spot. “I’m so happy. You’ll find it will make such a difference in how you look and in your life. And we’ll have so much fun. I’ll just go and start working out a program for you. Just sign up with Janice at the front desk and check for an available time, and she’ll slot you in. Byee.”
Candy squealed again and disappeared back through the doors. J.J., trying not to take offense from the remark about how she looked, pulled out her credit card to pay. By the time she’d booked her appointment for the following Monday morning, she sensed that someone was standing behind her.
She almost knocked Devine over as she abruptly turned. “What are you doing here?”
Looking exasperated, he shook his head. “I don’t have to ask why you’re here.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the front door. They stopped several feet from the receptionist. Still, he kept his voice low, which added a sinister quality to it.
“What are you trying to do? Wreck my investigation? You know what the police will do when they find out you’re butting in?”
J.J. pulled her arm out of his grip and turned her back to the receptionist. Who knew if she could read lips? “I’ve signed up for some sessions with a personal trainer, that’s all. I’ve been thinking about doing it for a long time now. I’ve wanted to get in shape for a while but never took the first step. There are so many gyms and spas around, you know. Actually hearing a name and a place was the incentive I needed.” She bit her tongue to keep from rambling even more.
Ty stepped back and gave her the once-over. “You already look in shape.”
J.J. felt her cheeks do a slow glow. She chose to ignore the comment, looking at her watch instead. “Oh, look at that. I have to run. I’m late for work. Byee.” She could have kicked herself for that. Obviously, Candy was already having an influence.
She quickly exited before he could say anything else or stop her. She didn’t look back until she was in her car, and then she took a deep breath before driving off. She wasn’t happy that Ty knew of her plan, but there was nothing she could do at this point.
She would just have to make sure it panned out.
She took the time during the short drive to the office to wonder about Candy’s seeming lack of distress. Maybe she and Marcotti weren’t having an affair after all. Maybe she’d been in it only for the gifts and was really one cold-hearted femme fatale. Or maybe she didn’t know what had happened. But his death had been in the news and surely the staff at the fitness center had been told. He had been their boss, after all. J.J. stowed her thoughts as she pulled into the parking lot behind the office building.
By midafternoon, J.J. had to admit to hunger pangs. She’d skipped lunch. Not a good idea. However, she was having dinner with Connor Mac later. She’d better snack up before going. Nothing worse than pigging out in front of a date.
“Hi. I’m here,” Brittany Stewart announced as she pushed open the door to the office.
Skye looked up from her computer. “Great, Brittany. How was your school week?”
“Hi,” J.J. threw in.
Brittany shrugged. “It was so cool. I have a hot date tomorrow to go to see Cirque du Soleil. I think it’s the first time they’re performing in Burlington, and it’s so cool that I’m going. Is it all right if I work a bit later tonight and skip tomorrow morning?”
“Sure,” Skye agreed. “We’ve got some snail mail that needs to go out and some filing.” She looked over at J.J. “Anything else?”
“Nothing aside from the website update that you were going come in special to do tomorrow. Are you still able to get that done?”
“It’s a snap. I can do that with my eyes closed,” Brittany bragged. She went right to work, sorting through the paper tasks first. Individual binders were kept for each event, and keeping them up to date was Brittany’s job. Also, even though most transactions were handled by e-mail these days, Skye insisted additional paper backup of everything be filed, just in case.
J.J. watched her for a few minutes. Oh, to be so excited over a date. She wondered what that felt like. It had been a long time. Of course, it was a long time since she’d been a high school senior, too. She was certain Brittany had no shortage of dates. Over the past five months she’d worked for them, she’d seemed more interested in talking about the latest clothes and whether she should straighten her long blonde locks than what was happening in the world.
J.J. gave herself a mental kick. That wasn’t really fair. At that age, she herself had also been interested in fashions and style, which is probably why she’d drifted into the world of advertising on graduating from Champlain College in Burlington. It had beckoned like the call of the ocean and a wide strip of white sand. In fact, her first campaign had been for a travel agency. And she had lucked out with a free trip to those sands, a trip of a lifetime. But she’d also been aware of the extreme poverty just outside the gates of the resort. She shouldn’t dismiss Brittany so quickly. Maybe she had a charity or concern that she was into but just never talked about.
J.J. finally shut down her computer and grabbed her briefcase. “Gotta go. I’ve got a hot date myself tonight.”
“Connor? Hot?” Skye joked.
“Yes and yes. Have a good weekend, both of you.”
“Good luck with your dinner club on Sunday.”
“Thank you. Not worried. See, no nerves.” She held out both hands in front of her, then quickly grabbed her purse when she noticed the slight shaking. “Ciao.”
She’d already checked the mirror three times before Connor knocked on her apartment door. She took a final glance at herself before opening it. She’d realized how it was odd that she be so conscious of how she looked when going out with Connor.
There were no sparks there. Nothing to suggest future passion. But she did have fun with him, and Connor always looked ready to step into the limelight. There was a certain buzz about that. As the morning man on local radio station WHMB, he’d been chosen as the face of the place for all their advertising. His dark good looks, enhanced by a perpetual five o’clock shadow, always turned heads wherever he went. And J.J. had decided, without even realizing it, that she should at least try not to embarrass him when they went out. The look of pleasure on his face when he eyed her reinforced her decision to wear a silky red swing blouse with skinny black pants.
“I’m r
eady,” she said after a quick kiss on the cheek.
Connor had booked them a table at Ettore Trattoria, a fairly new Italian restaurant in downtown Burlington. J.J. was impressed. She also realized it might be quite some time before her recent penchant for Italian food was forgotten.
“I’d heard you had to book months in advance to get a spot here,” she whispered after the maître d’ had held her chair for her. She looked around. It seemed to be full even at this early hour.
Connor grinned what she’d come to label his real smile. “I don’t play the media card very often, but I really wanted to eat here and I thought you’d find it cool.” He ran his right hand across his chin and reached for the menu.
She nodded. “I do.”
“So tell me,” he said after they’d placed their orders, “are you all set for Sunday’s feast, or do you think it would jinx it to talk about any questions you might have?”
J.J. smiled. “I have it all in hand, thanks to some friendly advice from a certain Italian who’s in the food business.”
Connor looked suddenly serious. “Do you mean Antonio Marcotti? I’d heard you were interviewed by the police.”
“No, not Marcotti. But you’re right, I’m on their suspect list. I meant Rocco Gates.”
“Also on that list.”
“How do you know that? Oh, of course, the media knows all.” She knew she sounded sarcastic, so she smiled to take the edge off.
He shrugged. “We try. So tell me, is this bothering you a lot?”
“It is, of course. I was the last person to talk to him, or so it seems, except for the murderer that is. And I don’t like being thought of as a suspect. But I’m also worried that two friends are on that list, too.”
Connor nodded. “I know about Evan.”
“Hm. See what I mean?”
He stared at her until she looked at him. “I’m not the bad guy here. I have a job and I do it and, I might add, being a radio host is a far cry from being a newsperson. And I do understand how it can turn your life upside down to be involved in something like this.”
