Compared to Ingrid I was Ted’s consolation prize — and not much consolation at that. Even in my beautiful dress I was the ugly step-sister.
Ingrid turned back to Melinda. "How is Ted? Handsome and intense as ever?" Even her laugh was like a song and it made me want to throw up. "Still living in that old craftsman in Glendale? Did he ever fix it up?"
Melinda gave her the barracuda eyelash bat. "Well, as you can imagine since he’s getting married, he’s very happy."
Ingrid nodded and backed up a couple steps. She fluttered her wrist. "I’ve been meaning to call him since I got back in town. Thought we could catch up." She flicked another look at me. "When’s the wedding?"
Melinda stepped forward, forcing Ingrid back another couple of steps. "It’s a nice thought, but he’s very busy these days. He doesn’t have any free time at all, in fact."
While Melinda wrangled Ingrid, I ducked into the dressing room to change. Zelda followed in right behind me. I whispered, "What are you doing?"
Zelda eyed the curtain. "Who is she?"
I put my hands on my hips. "You haven’t figured it out yet?"
Zelda lunged at me and grabbed my arm. "That’s the ex?" She peeked through the crack in the curtains. "Damn, she’s…"
I pried Zelda’s hand off my arm. "Beautiful? Perfect? A 10?"
Zelda closed the curtain. "No. I mean, yeah, let’s face it, she’s a fucking super model. But she’s not you. I can’t believe Teddy boy went for her."
Gently, I folded my dress and lay it on the bench then put on my tee shirt. "Is there a man on the planet who wouldn’t go for her?" I tugged on my shorts. "Hell, I’d go for her."
Zelda gave me a soft punch. "Don’t sweat it. She’s married to his best friend."
I shoved my feet into my sneakers. "I didn’t see a ring. Did you?"
Zelda winced. "Maybe she’s having it cleaned."
I slung my bag over my shoulder, scooped up my dress and nodded toward the curtain. "We can’t stay in here all day."
Zelda drew back the curtain and peeked out. "It’s okay, they’re outside talking."
Moira rang up my purchases at the counter and as a wedding gift, threw in the perfect satin pumps for free. She chattered on about what a beautiful bride I’d be. I would’ve agreed with her if not for Ingrid. I promised to send her an invitation then we headed for the door. "Holy Jesus, give me strength."
We stepped outside and my hair drooped as though surrendering to real beauty. Sunset Boulevard was white and wavy with heat, and the October sun lasered off the concrete and glass, like death rays looking for a target. Ingrid however, stood tall and radiant in the broil — like a damned superhero.
Melinda flashed me a look of relief. "Oh well, here they are."
Ingrid pulled a card out of her bag, jotted something on the back and handed it to Melinda. "Tell Ted to give me a call. I wrote my cell on the back."
Melinda accepted the card. "We really have to be going, Ingrid."
Ingrid flung back her silky tresses and smiled. "Great to see you again, Melinda. And nice to meet you Scotti and Martha."
The three of us stood on the sidewalk, watching Ingrid sashay down the street like it was the closing scene in the movie of her life. She got into a turquoise sports car, revved her engine, then took off like a shot down the boulevard.
Melinda rolled her eyes and harrumphed. "The nerve." She tore Ingrid’s card into pieces and Zelda dumped them in a trash can. "I can’t believe she showed her face." I continued to stare in Ingrid’s direction. Melinda put a hand on my shoulder. "She’s gone, Scotti. Don’t worry."
Oh, but I did worry. Ingrid was gone for the moment, but I’d see her again. Melinda and Zelda knew that too. Women always know when another woman is after their man.
Chapter Eight
Ted texted to say he’d be late, but I was tired of being blown off for the damned kitchen. And the blond amazon was on the hunt, and I wasn’t about to take any chances. I texted back, saying I was on my way with dinner.
During the drive, images of walking in on Ted offering Ingrid a drink — for old time’s sake — and letting her chase him around the living room, ran through my head. I trusted Ted, but I’ve met a lot of Ingrid’s in my life. They don’t give up. And Ingrid was the poster girl for not giving up. I didn’t kid myself, she wouldn’t rely on Melinda to pass on her message. She knew where Ted lived, and what would stop her from just dropping by? Not a damn thing.
When I got to Ted’s, the only vehicle in the drive was his Escalade, and there were no turquoise sports cars in sight. I looked up to the sky and said, "Thank you God, I owe you one."
When I came through the door, there was no soft jazz playing, no ice cubes clinking in glasses, no murmured conversation or flirtatious laughter. In fact, it was dead silent. I set the takeout on the coffee table and dropped my bag on the sofa. "Ted?" I wandered back to his office. "Honey?"
The ground floor was abandoned, so I went upstairs to his bedroom. I found him asleep on the bed wearing a towel and one white cotton sock. I crawled into bed with him and whispered. "Honey?" Ted murmured in his sleep. I stroked his forehead. "Ted?"
His eyes fluttered open. "Hi baby."
We kissed softly. "Hi. Catching a nap?"
He pulled me into a two-arm lock and nuzzled my neck. "Dreaming about you."
"Hungry? I brought Chinese."
Ted worked his way up my neck to my lips then kissed me long and slow. "Who needs Chinese when I’ve got you to nibble on?" He pulled me on top of him and kissed me again. "You taste good."
I sat back on my haunches and tweaked his nose. "Let’s talk about dessert later." I rolled off the bed. "Don’t dawdle."
Ted groaned. "Honey…"
"Come on, time to feed you and the baby." I turned toward the door. "And make sure you’re wearing more than that towel when you come downstairs."
He groaned again and mumbled something about naked dinner, but I kept walking — knowing better than to turn around.
When he stumbled into the living room wearing only a pair of sweat pants, dinner awaited him on the coffee table. My loins stirred because he is one hunk of gorgeous man but also because I was feeling territorial. Instead of jumping him, I opened a beer and offered it to him. "Refreshments?"
Ted plopped onto the sofa and accepted the beer. The scent of Chinese food got his attention, and he peered into the cartons. "Looks good." He chugged down half his beer and snagged a carton of kung pao chicken. "Food is good."
I nibbled on an eggroll. "How’s the kitchen going?"
Ted twisted his lips into a frown. "Might take a little longer than we thought."
I bit my lip. "Why’s that?" I spooned a pile of shrimp fried rice onto my paper plate. "Problem?"
Ted leaned back against the cushions, holding the carton of food under his chin with one hand and chopsticks with the other. "Problem with the sub-flooring." He winced. "Joists need to be replaced."
I looked up from my plate. "The whole floor needs to be replaced?"
Ted scooped chicken into his mouth and nodded. "Yup." His eyes flitted to mine. "Okay?"
I looked back to my shrimp fried rice. "It’s okay, I’m not upset. It’s okay."
Ted put his food on the coffee table and scooted next to me. "Sorry baby, we didn’t know until we got in there." He cupped my chin. "You don’t want to fall through the floor, right?"
I sighed and nodded. "Right." He was so tired he could barely keep his eyes open — all because he wanted to give me something special. "Did you hire a crew yet?" I raised a finger. "Tell me the truth."
He curled a lip. "I’ve been calling around. We should have crew by early next week." He shrugged. "We’ll get her done."
I put my plate on the coffee table. "I’d rather have you than a kitchen." I combed my fingers through his hair. "You look exhausted."
Ted smirked. "I’ve gone a lot longer than this without sleep. He smacked his chest. "This is a piece of cake."
I r
olled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re a big tough guy." I stroked his cheek. "It’s okay if you slow it down a little. You’re not special forces anymore, you know."
He slipped his arms around my waist. "You saying I’ve gone soft?"
"Maybe."
"I could do fifty push-ups with you on my back."
I laughed. "Just fifty? Lightweight."
He lowered his voice to a sexy growl. "Okay, a hundred." His lips brushed mine. "My pack weighed more than you do."
"My pie carrier weighs more than I do."
He pulled me into his lap. "I could carry you and the pack up those stairs, without working up a sweat."
I climbed out of his lap. "Okay Tarzan, you win."
His nostrils flared, and he grunted. "Damn straight, I win." He snagged a carton of beef broccoli. "More food."
I picked up my plate and nibbled some more. "I met an old friend of yours today."
Ted kept eating and said, "Who?"
"She’s very tall and very blonde."
Ted’s jaw tightened. "Where?"
"At the vintage shop where I found my wedding dress." I slid a quick look at him. "Seems she’s back in town and anxious to talk old times."
Ted chewed his food slowly then swallowed. His sigh more like a grunt. "Stay away from her, she’s bad news."
I frowned at him. "I’d be happy to, but I think she has other plans."
Ted set his food on the coffee table. "Don’t be a smart ass Scotti, you know what I mean."
I squinted at him. "You already knew, didn’t you?"
Ted scowled and propped his big feet on the coffee table. "She came by the shop."
My stomach clenched like a fist. "And?"
He shook his head dismissively. "I wasn’t there."
I threw up my hands. "Great, she’ll just come back."
He snapped. "Why are you pissed at me? I didn’t ask her to come."
I glared at him. "Because you didn’t tell me."
"I didn’t want you to get worked up."
I rubbed my face with both hands. "Being ambushed by her was a better idea?"
Ted reached for me. "I didn’t know she’d do that."
I backed away from him. "Of course you did. After five minutes, I could see what she’d do."
Ted threw up his hands and groaned. "And this is why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d go ballistic." I crossed my arms over my chest but said nothing. He scooted next to me and said, "Scotti look at me." I sighed then looked at him. "You’ve got nothing to be jealous of because I love you. She means nothing to me. Less than nothing. I swear."
I shook my head. "She’s so beautiful."
He sneered. "She’s a black-hearted bitch."
I made a face. "A beautiful black-hearted bitch."
He cupped my chin. "She won’t bother you again, I’ll make sure of it."
I wanted to believe him, but I didn’t. "How? You do understand that she came back for you and doesn’t care who she has to plow through to get to you."
Ted pulled me into his arms and held me. "It doesn’t matter what she wants. I want you, not her." He brushed away my tears. "Don’t play into her hands — it’s what she wants." He tipped up my chin and kissed me. "She can’t come between unless we let her. Right?"
I nodded. "Right. You’re right." I gave him a worried look. "But she’s either following me or Melinda. I know she didn’t just happen to walk into the same shop."
Ted laughed. "If she’s following Mom, she’s in for a world of hurt."
I chuckled. "True, Melinda can be scary when she puts her mind to it." I lay my head on his shoulder. "Please don’t let Ingrid ruin our wedding."
He stroked my back. "Don’t worry, I’ll fix it."
I raised my head. "And if you see her again, you’ll tell me? No secrets? Even if you think it’ll upset me — you’ll tell me? Promise?"
Ted pursed his lips and nodded. "Okay, but you have to promise me something."
"What?"
"That no matter what Ingrid says or does, don’t believe it. I’m not exaggerating when I say she can be very convincing."
I nodded and put my head on his shoulder. Eloping was sounding better and better.
Chapter Nine
Monday afternoon I drove up to Pasadena to meet with Joe and Dan Parker at his office. Mopping my brow, I stepped into the cool office and let out a long sigh. "So this is where all the cool people are hanging out."
Dan’s office manager, Peggy Rizzardini, jumped up from her desk and grinned. "Scotti!" She hugged me. "Yeah, it’s a real scorcher out there, huh?" Her eyes drifted to my ring finger and she whistled. "Wow, that’s some ring." I offered her my hand to get a closer look. "When’s the wedding?"
I fanned myself with my hand. "Three weeks, if you can believe that." She gawked, but before she could ask why we were getting married so quickly I said, "Your invitation is in the mail and would you like to be a bridesmaid?"
Peggy’s green eyes sparkled. "Are you kidding? I’d be thrilled."
I swiped sweat from my forehead. "I’m sure you’ve got a million questions, but let’s talk after the meeting." I jerked my thumb at Dan’s office. "How do you like working for Dan?"
Peggy’s eyelashes fluttered and her cheeks flushed. "It’s great — he’s a good boss and a good man."
I squinted at her. "A good man, huh?"
She rolled her eyes and flapped a hand at me. "Better not keep them waiting."
My sneakers squeaked against the hardwood floors as I walked to Dan’s door. I smiled once more at Peggy. "We’ll talk wedding stuff later, yeah?"
She nodded, then I went inside.
Dan sat at his big driftwood desk which was a good fit for him — he topped out at about six-five and filled any room with his presence. His salt and pepper hair and lively gray eyes softened his square face and made him seem approachable. "Hey counselor."
Dan smiled and exposed his straight white teeth. "Afternoon Scotti. You’re looking fit as a fiddle."
Joe sat in a tufted leather visitor chair in front of the desk. "Have a seat Miss Scotti, we were just talking about y’all."
I took the chair next to Joe and waited.
Dan rested his big arms on the desk. "I hear congratulations are in order. Getting hitched and having a baby? That’s something."
I gave Joe the eye because he wasn't supposed to be blabbing baby news, but I smiled at Dan. "Yeah it sure is something, isn’t it?" We chatted about my upcoming wedding and motherhood. Dan dispensed some sage advice and teased Joe about being the father of the bride. I sighed and looked from one to the other. "Okay, enough small talk. What’s up?"
"You’ve had time to digest the Atkinson file?"
I nodded. "Yes I’ve read it."
"And?"
Though both men smiled at me, I got that itchy cornered feeling that made me twitch. "And I’m wondering why my opinion is so important to you. And why you didn’t give me all the evidence to look over." I raised my brows. "Even I know one file is just the tip of the iceberg."
Dan steepled his fingers. "True enough." He swept an arm toward a stack of banker boxes in the corner of the room. "And you’re welcome to see anything you like. Did you want to see more before we discuss your thoughts?"
I stretched out my legs and wagged my feet. "Maybe I should at some point, but what I’m asking is why you want my thoughts in the first place."
Dan and Joe exchanged a subtle look, then Dan leveled a gaze at me. "Let’s just say I’m looking for the female perspective."
I pointed to the door. "You have Peggy right outside that door. Surely she’s far more familiar with the case files than I am."
Joe threw up his arms. "Oh for pity’s sake woman, would you just tell the man what he wants to know?"
I sighed and shrugged. "I’m less convinced of his guilt than I was before I read the file. His explanations are plausible. There aren’t any eye witnesses. Or anyone who can testify to prior violence. They haven’t found the bab
y’s body. So yeah, there’s definitely some doubt there." Joe and Dan exchanged a pleased look. I cleared my throat. "On the other hand, statistically, murders like these are usually committed by a spouse or lover." The men lost their pleased looks. "The way she was killed is very personal, so I believe Devereaux knew her killer. And there don’t appear to be any other suspects."
Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) Page 6
