My head spun with all the ways that life liked to screw with me. I pushed the elevator call button. "Why should I be excited?"
Zelda threw out her arms. "Because you've got the money for the diner, genius."
I held out my hands to her. "Do you see a check in my hands?"
Zelda puckered her lips. "Not now — but soon."
I pushed the call button again. "Soon? It could take years for George's estate to get through probate. Even if his family doesn't contest the will." I threw up my hands. "But they’ll contest it. I’ll be ninety before I ever get a check out of that estate. If I get one at all."
Zelda gaped. "Why would they contest it? It’s what George wanted. Besides, they’ve got boatloads of money. A hundred grand is nothing to them."
"Have you forgotten what Lauren said about rich folk and their stuff?" I pointed at her. "And you’re the one who’s always ranting about what a bitch Maggie is."
The elevator doors slid open and we stood face to face with Maggie Manston and Lily. I cringed, sure she’d heard me. But she brushed past me like I wasn’t there. I watched her walk down the hall to Sessions’ office and thought that her act was wearing thin. She knew exactly who I was.
Lily hung back and smiled like we were old friends. "Funny how we keep running into each other." She glanced down the hall toward Sessions' office. "We must be in for a big surprise."
She flipped her long blond hair then sashayed past me down the hall. Zelda stared at Lily. "What's her deal?"
I shooed Zelda into the elevator. When the doors closed I said, "At least we got the word before Maggie. Thank God I don't have to see that."
"You think she'll have a fit?"
I smirked. "Don't you?"
Zelda rubbed the back of her neck and frowned. "Yeah, I guess." Then she looked up brightly. "But, if we solve the murder, she'll still have to pay us the reward money."
I shook my head in disbelief. "Always the optimist, huh?"
Zelda hunched a shoulder. "She went on television and made the offer. Even if she hates us, if we get the evidence she’ll have to pay up."
No bank loan. No George loan. And the inheritance would never happen. Only one option left — solve George's murder. I laughed. "Yeah Zee, that’s all we have to do, solve a murder. Sure, no problem."
Chapter Twenty-Five
The meeting with Sessions set the tone for the rest of the day. All I could think about was losing the diner. Zelda couldn't get me to crack a smile and everybody else steered clear for their own safety — including Manny.
After the lunch rush Manny took a couple of hundreds out of the register and announced that he was going out for a while. Zelda blew him a kiss. "We'll miss you."
Manny muttered in Spanish and walked out.
After I saw Manny's Trans Am roar past the diner, I ducked into his office and locked myself inside. I had two objectives — find something to identify the other buyer and pull the security tape. It took less than a minute to switch out the discs in the security system and tuck the recorded disc into my apron. Finding the mystery buyer's identity would be the challenge. I searched through all the crap on Manny's desk, careful to put things back in the same place but came up empty-handed anyway.
Rifling through the desk drawers only showed me the extent of Manny's love for useless junk. The only thing left was the old filing cabinet. It was one of those old relics spray-painted dead-red like the ones used in the administrative offices of the public schools I'd attended.
The first drawer was heavy and shrieked in protest when I pulled it open. A waste of effort since it was nothing but a bunch of Latin music CDs. The second drawer held Manny's macho kit — shoes, trousers, cologne, condoms, and even underwear. I slammed it shut but the image was forever lodged in my brain. The last two drawers held neatly filed receipts, paid bills, time cards and other documents you'd expect for a restaurant.
Manny was smarter than I thought and apparently knew how to hide things when it mattered. I realized that he probably had the information on the other buyer at his house — where prying waitresses couldn't get to it. I gave up and turned to the door but my foot caught the trash can and sent it flying. "Crap." I hurried to put everything back in the can but amongst the trash I saw an envelope that looked familiar. I snagged it from the floor and examined it. "I can't believe this."
I stuffed the envelope in my apron pocket, set the trash can right, and left the office - making sure the door locked behind me. My timing was perfect because as I came out to the dining room Manny was walking through the front door. I sneered at him, the son of a bitch.
Manny frowned at me. "Why you looking at me like that?" I pursed my lips and said nothing. He eyed the big clock on the wall and pointed. "I ain't paying no overtime."
"And we're not working any." I grabbed my bag and hustled Zelda out the door.
<<>>
If there was anything to be happy about, it was that nobody was on to us. If Maggie Manston had known I was in possession of George's briefcase, or of our visit to his office, she'd have done more than brush past me at Sessions' elevator. And had Lily known, she'd have pounced on it. I didn't know much about her but I knew that she loved to stir up shit. I imagined she got a real charge out of pushing Maggie's and Lauren's buttons too. I couldn't blame her. Being a have-not all your life can make you wicked for revenge.
And there was a little wicked revenge stirring inside of me. We had a secret that no one knew. And if fate was on our side, we might get the last laugh. Probably not, but it was something to hope for, and it made me feel momentarily powerful.
We'd just pulled everything out and spread it on the butcher-block when the gate buzzer sounded. I jumped.
Zelda gave me a look. "What's with you?" She slid off her stool and went out to the front room but didn't come right back.
"Zee?" My curiosity led me out to the living room. Zelda stood at the door, hands on her hips and glaring. A black Escalade glided past. "Ted?"
Zelda glanced over her shoulder. "I told you to return his calls."
And then Ted was walking up the porch steps. "Hey Zelda."
"Ted."
He passed Zelda through the open door, which she closed after him. He grinned at me. "Hey Gorgeous." Two strides and he bent down and gave me a peck on the lips.
"Hi. I wasn't expecting you."
Zelda stood behind us and motioned to me to get rid of Ted.
"You haven't returned my calls and I was worried."
I smirked. "Is that a fact?"
He blushed. "Okay." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "I missed you."
Zelda stomped past us. "Obviously you two lovebirds want to be alone." I watched her storm into the kitchen and hoped she was hiding everything that was spread out on the butcher-block.
Ted followed my gaze and cringed. "She really hates me, doesn't she?"
I shrugged. "This really isn't a good time."
Ted pouted. "Oh come on, you've got five minutes, don't you?" He looked over my head to the kitchen and chuckled. "You're not hiding a body in the kitchen are you?" Without knowing what else to do, I put my arms around his neck and kissed him. He looked down at me and grinned. "So maybe you missed me a little bit too?"
I smiled. "Maybe." I raised my voice. "Coffee?"
He held me in front of him. "As long as you're willing to be my human shield."
When we walked into the kitchen Zelda was closing the desk drawer. The butcher-block was clear and Zee and I exchanged a look. Ted pulled out a stool and sat down but his eyes remained on Zelda. Zelda glared. "Something I can do for you?"
Ted held up his hands. "Nope just here for the coffee."
I set a plate of cupcakes on the butcher-block and poured all of us coffee. But the cupcakes didn't distract Ted as much as I'd hoped. "What's happening here?"
Zelda came back to the butcher-block and sat down. "Not much for a Tuesday." She grabbed a cupcake and peeled the paper back to get a big bite. "You should try one of th
ese. Scotti made them."
Ted questioned me with his eyes. "Yeah, we just got home from work." I took his hand. "Sorry I haven't returned your calls but between the baking marathon and the diner I've been busy."
Zelda grabbed another cupcake and stared at Ted. "So Ted, what's your story?"
Ted glanced at Zelda. "My story?"
Zelda squinted at him "Yeah, and don't bother trying to bullshit me."
Ted reared back and tilted his head. "What do you want to know?"
"What are your intentions?"
My cheeks burned and I wanted to lock myself in the pantry. "Zee!"
Ted smiled. "My intentions are to date your room mate."
Zelda raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"You find it suspect that I want to date Scotti?"
I glared at Zelda but she ignored me. "Lots of guys want to date Scotti. But it doesn't mean you aren't a shit. Or for that matter that we aren't a couple of shits."
Ted didn’t buy it. "Characters, yes. Shits, no."
She conceded. "Okay, you're right, Scotti isn't a shit. But I could slug you with a socket wrench without thinking twice."
Ted laughed and I liked the sound of his laugh. "I believe you Zelda."
Zelda suppressed a grin. "That's good. You should believe me."
Ted’s gaze fixed on the desk. "I do believe you about the socket wrench, but it's what you shoved into that desk drawer that's got me curious. " He turned his intense green gaze on me and I wilted. "Very curious."
Without flinching Zelda said, "You know Teddy boy, maybe you should slow down a little. We just met you five minutes ago. We don't owe you any explanations. Why don't you wait and see how things go with you and Scotti before running a background check?"
Ted took Zelda's words into consideration and nodded. "I'll take that under advisement." Then he smiled at me and said, "But I can be very resourceful."
Zelda sighed and stood up. "If we want your help we'll ask for it." She shrugged. "You want my advice — don't push it."
And on that note, she walked out of the kitchen and left us alone. Ted watched after her for a few seconds then turned back to me. "You two aren't the sharing type are you?"
He pulled me out of my stool and into his arms but I wriggled away from him. "You think a hug is going to convince me?"
He tweaked my nose. "You can't blame a guy for trying."
I studied him for a minute. "Maybe you should stop trying so hard."
He clutched his chest. "Ouch." He laughed. "Am I that pathetic?"
I touched his arm. "No, you’re adorable. I like you too. But sometimes a girl needs her privacy."
He scraped back his stool and stood. "Okay, message received — stop coming on so strong." He tilted his head. "Am I allowed to ask you out to dinner?"
"Yes."
"Thursday, seven o'clock?"
I walked him to the front door. "It’s a date." Then I gave him a little shove and said, "Now go."
I watched from the front door until Ted drove through the open gate and headed down the hill. I loved the attention, and it was nice to have a man in my life again, but it was also a complication. If I kept seeing Ted, I'd have to explain myself at some point. I had to slow things down between us. But based on how things were going that point would come sooner rather than later. And slowing things down was probably already past its expiration date.
"Be careful," Zelda said from behind me.
"Yes, mother." I brushed past her, scooted into the office, and pulled the George stuff out of the drawer. Zelda watched me from the doorway for a second then came into the kitchen and sat down at the butcher-block. I cleared the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. Then brought everything back to the butcher-block. "I feel a little guilty keeping this from Ted. Don't you?"
Zelda opened the binder and flipped through it. "Hell no."
I sat next to her and stared at the pages without reading them. "I think he just wants to help." Zelda rolled her eyes. "We're going to need it too."
Zelda made a face at the idea of needing help, took out her notebook, and made notes.
I scanned through my notes. "We've got a little less than a month to make this happen, so can we please just focus?"
We started with the phone numbers from George's calendar. J.C. was James Cavender, private detective. A voice mail recording asked us to leave a message with a promise of a return call. I hung up without leaving a message.
Next was Skyfall, which was an insurance company. After a brief conversation with customer service, I discovered that Skyfall provided business insurance and specialized in partner insurance. The nice customer service rep, a grandmotherly type, informed me that only the client could request copies. I pretended to be an inept assistant, without the file number and threw myself on the woman's mercy. But I still hung up, empty-handed. "Damn, I thought I had her for a minute."
The lab results number belonged to Amberlyn Labs. The customer service rep was not as friendly as Skyfall's rep and said that the results had already been mailed to the client. As an afterthought, he told me that if I wanted a copy of the results, I could download their online form and request it. "Thanks a bunch," I said and hung up.
"Well?"
"If we want a copy of the results, we need an order number and the signature of the original requester." I pushed the notepad away. "If we had all that, we wouldn't need them, right?"
The next number belonged to T.S — Tina Serrata, interior designer. When I called I got a recording and a husky-voiced female said she really wanted me to leave a message and promised sincerely to return my call right away.
The last number for J.T. was an east coast number and even though it was past office hours out there, I dialed it anyway. For my trouble, a recording informed me that the number had been disconnected. I hung up the phone in frustration. "Disconnected number," I told Zelda. "This is getting us nowhere."
Remembering Manny's security disc I popped it into the disc drive on my laptop and angled it so we could both watch. The security camera focused on the cash register so it only showed images of people paying their bills, or placing carryout orders. The quality was poor and the images were grainy and after a few minutes, I hit the fast forward and scanned through to the end. Nothing but a silent parade of strangers and regulars handing money to Manny, over and over.
I shivered and hugged myself. "I'm going to make dinner." I slid off my stool. "You turn up the heat."
Zelda jacked up the heat and I pulled the chicken soup out of the fridge. Soon, the kitchen was filled with the aroma of chicken, garlic and onions. I put water on to boil for the noodles and popped biscuits in the oven. The rain started again and pattered against the windows.
"What are we going to do?" I asked Zelda.
Zelda focused on George's secret phone — still trying to figure out the password.
"About what?"
I stirred the soup and breathed in the comforting aroma. People say that food isn't love but I disagree. There've been times in my life when food was the only love I got. "Once Manny sells the diner?"
Zelda put the phone down and frowned at me. "Then you're going to run the diner. What else?"
I waved the soup ladle at her. "Sure, if I get the money. But what are the odds that we'll pull this off? Honestly?"
"Never say die," Zelda said gently.
I pulled the envelope I found in Manny's office out of my pocket and slapped it down on the counter. "Look familiar?"
Zelda picked up the envelope and examined it. "Why would Sessions send Manny a letter?"
"Because he represents our secret buyer, you doof."
"That s.o.b.!"
"Who? Sessions or Manny?" I went back to the soup and stirred. "Shouldn't we be pissed at the buyer?"
"Why would we be pissed at the buyer?"
"Because it's got to be someone in George's family."
Zelda shot out of her seat. "You think it's Maggie Manston?"
I pulled the biscuits out of the
oven, dumped them into a breadbasket, and carried it to the butcher-block. I pushed my hair off my face and yawned. "Could this all a big fake out? Maggie dangles a reward but has no intention of paying it?"
Zelda grabbed biscuit and bit into it. "She went on TV and announced that damn reward so she's stuck. She'll look like a total ass if she doesn't pay up." She raised her arm in solidarity. "Don't give up before we've even started, sister friend."
I drained the pasta and spooned noodles into two white soup bowls. "I'm not giving up." I glanced at her. "But Manny's selling the diner to somebody. Me, Maggie Manston or somebody. He's going to Miami and won't stick around until we figure things out. Not his problem." I ladled soup over the noodles then carried the bowls to the butcher-block and set them down. "And if it's one of them who knows what they'll do?"
Coffee & Crime Page 15
