Josie clamped her lips together while I tried not to groan out loud. My father, the voice of doom and gloom.
"What are you two doing this evening?" Josie asked.
My mother giggled as she downed the rest of her Bloody Mary and put an arm around my father's shoulders. "We'll probably turn in early. Right, honey?"
"Whatever you say, hot stuff." He reached over and bussed her cheek.
Okay, I loved my parents, but the public displays of affection were just downright uncomfortable to watch. After spotting my mother at the pool earlier, my father had joined her shortly afterward in Bermuda shorts, a tank top, white socks, and sandals. They'd cuddled together on the same chaise lounge for so long that I was afraid I might lose my lunch.
"What time should we be at the studio tomorrow?" my mother asked. "We don't want to miss anything."
My stomach muscles constricted. I prayed they wouldn't make a scene. How embarrassing would it be to get kicked out of a national baking competition because one's parents were groping each other in the audience?
"Um, I don't know," I lied. "I think you can show up anytime. Maybe like three in the afternoon?"
My mother laughed. "Don't be silly, darling. We'll be there way before that. I can't wait to see my little girl bring home the grand prize."
When Josie exhaled sharply, I knew what she was thinking. As if we weren't nervous enough already, now we had this to deal with as well.
My father dipped a french fry in ketchup and pointed it as us. "You kids go have some fun. We'll take care of the bill." He blew me a kiss. "Stay out of trouble."
If he only knew. We waved good-bye and then went to retrieve our rental car in the parking lot. I entered the address I'd found earlier into the vehicle's GPS.
"Okay, it's kind of late in the evening to be making a social call, isn't it? We won't get there until almost seven thirty at this rate," Josie said.
"Well, we don't have a choice. We can't do it tomorrow, and Friday we're leaving early. It has to be tonight. Plus, if she works during the day, this will be the perfect time to catch her at home."
Josie frowned. "The address might not even belong to Amber. And the woman slept with your ex-husband. Do you really think she'll tell you anything? Are you going to ask her if the ring belongs to her?"
I paused to consider. "No, I'm not going to mention the ring. Let's see what direction the conversation takes first."
"Sounds like a plan." Josie settled back in her seat for the ride.
About forty minutes later, we found ourselves standing in front of a two-story stucco house painted a shade of light blue. We were only a few blocks from Clearwater Beach. Although darkness had already fallen, we were close enough to smell the salt water, which was one of the things I missed most about living in this area.
We stepped onto the small porch and, through a large bay window, I could see a television on with a small child sitting in front of it. Great.
I held my breath and rang the bell.
A dark-haired woman turned on the porch light and opened the door a crack. She observed us with caution. "Yes?"
I stared with no doubt in my mind that this was the woman in the picture. Long dark hair, the same shade as mine, only hers fell down the small of her back in perfect waves. Her complexion was a tad lighter than my olive-toned one. She looked like a size zero and towered over my five-foot three-inch status in her high-heeled sandals.
"Are you Amber Mills?" Josie asked.
She wrinkled her nose. "Who wants to know?"
I cleared my throat. "We'd like to ask you a couple of questions about Colin Brown."
Her eyes widened in alarm. She glanced back inside the house in the direction of the child then shut the door behind her as she stepped onto the porch. "I haven't seen that lowlife in two months. What's he done now?"
"He's dead," I said.
To my astonishment, Amber merely shrugged. "I'm not surprised. So who are you? One of his relatives?"
I held out my hand to her. "I'm his ex-wife."
She looked me over then chuckled. "Get out. Sally, right? The Peanuts character? I was curious when Colin mentioned you. The way he described you though—I thought you were some fat, hideous creature. You're actually not half bad."
I blew out a breath. Okay, you can do this, Sal. "Colin was murdered. I was hoping you might be able to provide us with some information about who may have wanted him dead."
Amber reached into her blazer pocket for a cigarette. "Why do you care? He was your ex-husband."
I debated about how much to tell her. "Because someone close to me has been wrongfully accused of his murder."
"Ah." She lit her cigarette. "Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but I didn't kill him. I'm sure there are plenty of people who wouldn't have minded seeing that bastard turn up dead though."
"Why'd you stop dating him?" I asked. "Or did he break up with you?"
Amber narrowed her eyes at me. "I ended it when I found out he was seeing someone else. And then that slime had the nerve to threaten to tell my husband about us unless I gave him money to keep quiet."
I glanced at the hand wrapped around her cigarette. She wasn't wearing a ring. "Where's your husband now?"
"We're separated," she said.
"Did you give Colin money or something else to help him pay his debts?"
"I lent him some money," she said. "That was my second mistake after getting involved with him. I figured out a while back I'd never see the cash again. Colin Brown was nothing but a whore. Whoever killed him did the entire female population a favor. Especially you, honey."
Not quite. "You don't happen to know whom else he was seeing, do you?"
"Some little blonde," she said. "I don't know her name."
I reached into my purse and produced the picture I had found in Colin's couch. "Is this her?"
Amber's eyes blazed with anger underneath the porch light. "Yeah. That's the bimbo. I walked in on them one night. Do you know what that feels like? The betrayal?"
I sighed. "Uh, yeah, actually I do."
She frowned. "Sorry. But that makes me wonder if it was all some type of game to him. Did he want to see how much he could get away with? Did any woman ever mean anything?"
I thought about this for a moment. "Well, I can tell you I never meant anything to him, and we were married for five years. Colin shared that information with me shortly before he died."
Josie laid a hand on my arm.
"I'm okay." I turned back to Amber. "So you have no clue who this woman is?"
She hesitated. "Like I said, I don't know her name. I was giving a seminar on extreme couponing at the Hooper Inn on First Street about a month ago. I spotted little Miss Cutesy at the hotel that night. I'm not sure what she was doing there—she wasn't attending the seminar. I will tell you that when our eyes met, she scurried away like a rat."
Amber blew a perfect circle of smoke into the night as she continued. "Colin told me she didn't mean anything to him. That she was engaged to someone else, and it was only a one-time fling. Nice, huh? He said he was using her. I mean, isn't that the best? Was there any woman he didn't use?"
Probably not. I'd once been convinced I'd known him so well. Sadly, I hadn't known him at all. Sure, we were no longer married, and I had Mike in my life, but the betrayal still hurt. I wondered if it always would.
I tried another tactic. "How about jewelry? Did you give him anything to hock?"
"Nothing," she said. "Only cash."
"Mommy." A little girl with dark hair like Amber's pressed her face up against the bay window and waved.
Amber bit into her lower lip. "I have to go. Whatever you're looking for from that bastard, I hope you find it." She put her hand on the doorknob and then turned back to us. "Did they have the funeral already?"
I nodded. "It was this morning."
Amber stared down at the concrete for a moment, not saying anything. When her gaze rose to meet mine again, cold gray eyes stared back at me fil
led with rage. "Good. I hope he rots in hell."
* * *
"Well, let's see," Josie said. "We're finding out a lot about your ex here. We don't know who killed him, but it's pretty obvious he didn't have many fans."
Our room was on the fifth floor. As we exited the elevator, we proceeded past a vending machine and couch. Two men were sitting on it. One was about fifty, bald with a protruding stomach. He tapped away on his phone. The other man appeared to be tall with jet-black hair and a matching mustache. Both wore expensive tailored suits, possibly Armani. They regarded Josie and me with curiosity as we walked past them to our room, which was the second one on the left side of the hall. I inserted the card into the lock. When it beeped, I lifted it back out. We shut and locked the door behind us.
Josie yawned. "I'm beat." She flopped onto one of the double beds and closed her eyes.
We heard a tap on the door, and she groaned. "God, I hope it's not your mother. I'm in no mood for a girl's night of gossip."
I went to the peephole and peered out. Fear swept over me as I took a step back and whispered. "It's the men who were on the couch when we got off the elevator."
Josie rose to her feet and stood beside me as she yelled through the door. "Can we help you?"
"Yeah," the tall man growled. "I'm here to see Sally."
Panic gripped me. "Do you think they have something to do with the contest?"
"Unless the chubby one is doing his best impression of the Pillsbury Doughboy, I highly doubt it." She yelled again. "What's this regarding?"
He grunted. "Look, just open the door. We ain't gonna hurt ya. I got some useful information for the lady about her husband, Mr. Brown."
Josie looked at me, alarm registering in her blue eyes.
I pulled my phone out of my purse and had 9-1-1 on standby if needed. "Okay, let them in."
Josie unlocked the door and undid the chain. The men entered the room and glared at both of us.
"Which one of you is Sally?" The tall man asked.
Josie pointed a finger at me.
He extended his hand and then shut the door behind him. "Ramon Ravole. And this is my pal, Punchy." He gestured at his pudgy friend.
Punchy gave us both a brief nod. His complexion was as white as sugar, and he had ears that rivaled Dumbo's. His lips curled back in a grin to reveal teeth well-stained with tobacco. Ramon Ravole. Ramon…Was this the Ramon Colin had known?
Josie gave a bark of laughter. "Ramon Ravole. Sounds like a rich Italian dish."
Ramon's gaze lingered on her face for a moment. "Ah, that's cute, honey. First time I ever heard that one. And what's your name?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Josie."
Ramon laughed then turned his attention back to me, eyes dark and menacing. "So does that make you one of the pussycats?"
Josie placed her hands on her hips and stuck her chin out. "Hilarious. Just when I was beginning to think you didn't have any original brain cells."
Uneasy, I nudged my friend, praying she'd be quiet. "Ah, what can I do for you, Mr. Ravole?" My stomach was queasy with uneasiness as I watched him and his mute friend.
Ramon stared at me like I had corn growing out of my ears. "I'm here for the money, of course."
Baffled, I stared back. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Punchy shook his head and frowned but still didn't say anything.
Ramon appeared bored. "Perhaps you don't understand whom you're dealing with here, sweetie pie. With interest, we're over ten grand now. It's pay up time. And I'm getting tired of waiting."
Stay calm, Sal. This is all a huge mistake. "You must have me confused with someone else. I don't even live in Florida. I'm only in town for a baking competition."
His smile was evil. "I know who you are and where you're from. You're Colin's wife, and your old man owes me money. Don't try to claim he never mentioned it to you."
My heart started beating so fast that I was afraid it might leap out of my chest at any moment. What exactly had Colin gotten himself into? More specifically, what had he gotten me into? "I'm Colin's ex-wife. We were divorced months ago."
"That ain't what the obit said." Ramon smiled. "And now that he's gone, the debt belongs to you."
"How did you even know we were here?" Josie asked.
"My patience is wearing thin, Red," Ramon said. "I got plenty of connections. Everywhere. And I know Mr. Brown skipped town last week. I can't believe you two were dumb enough to come here. Like flies trapped in a spider's web."
Holy crap. This guy reeked of a famous M word. Had Colin been borrowing money from the mob?
"Sicilian, right?" Ramon asked me.
I nodded. "One hundred percent."
That got a smile out him. "Ain't no other heritage as far as I'm concerned, so I'm gonna give you a little break. You got till Friday morning to come up with the dough." His gaze traveled downward, taking in my white shorts and matching sandals. "It'd be a shame to have to break those pretty legs into pieces."
I opened my mouth to say something, but only air came out. The words stuck in my throat.
"Wait a minute," Josie said. "Sally isn't responsible. Like she said, they were divorced months ago."
"Not my problem," Ramon said. "Fact is, someone's gotta pay. So it might as well be you. Mr. Brown said his wife ran a successful bakery, and he owned half. He also said he had something he was gonna hock to get me my money. Since you're his next of kin, I'm guessing you know what that something is. Maybe it even belongs to you."
I thought of the ring in my purse. That must have been what Colin meant. No way was I giving it to Ramon since it was my sole lead right now. The only thing that might possibly help clear Mike.
"I guess you'd better take the money out of your business. Unless…" His gaze came to rest on my chest. "Maybe we could find another way to even the score."
Punchy licked his lips and moved toward Josie, but I stepped in front of her.
"I'd rather be shot out of a cannon," Josie muttered.
"Hmm." Ramon looked at her. "That's a new one, but hey, I'll try anything once."
Punchy started to giggle. It was a barely audible silly gurgle that reminded me of Scooby Doo.
Ramon gave a gallant bow then reached for the doorknob. "Remember, Mrs. Brown. If you don't pay up, you might just wind up like your old man."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Josie handed me a paper cup of coffee. "Okay. We have to concentrate. One track minds here today. No thoughts of Colin or Mike. And no mention of potential mob guys. We have to focus all of our attention on this competition to have any chance of winning."
We stood in Kitchen B, waiting for the host and judges to arrive. The camera crew was setting up, the director shouting orders, and people were lined up outside waiting to fill the studio audience. I experienced a twinge of guilt that I hadn't given my parents a certain time to arrive by. If they were not here at nine when taping began, they would not be allowed in. At least that is what one of the employees told us when we'd arrived at seven. I'd tried to call my mother, but she wasn't answering the phone, and her voice mailbox was full. Typical. She always forgot to delete messages.
I nodded in reply to Josie's tense lecture. "Don't worry. I've got my head in the game."
She laughed. "No offense, Sal. I know you better than you know yourself. There's only one thing—or shall we say one person—that you're thinking about today. Now, it's your shop, and I respect that, but how do you feel about me telling you what to do? Just for today, I promise."
I grinned. "You always tell me what to do."
She shrugged. "True. But I thought I'd be polite for once and ask first."
I smiled at my best friend. "Don't worry. I have no problem following orders today. You are officially dubbed the boss."
Josie lifted her nose in the air. "I can live with that."
I'd had a terrible time sleeping last night and knew Josie had, too. I didn't want to wind up at the bottom of a river with my feet tie
d to cement blocks. Would Ramon really do something like that to me? My first impulse was to call Brian and see if he could help, but I didn't want to draw any more attention to Mike's disappearance. Instead, I tried to concentrate on the fact that in a little over twenty-four hours, I'd be heading home. This had not been the relaxing getaway Josie and I had hoped for. So far, all of the things I'd discovered about my ex-husband were ones I wished I'd never known about.
I was well aware how much this contest meant to Josie and thought of Grandma Rosa's reprimand the other day. If we won, the results for my business could be huge. The twenty grand alone was fantastic enough, but the prestige on top of it was more than enough reason to want to win. Josie was right. If I started thinking about Mike or Colin, it might ruin any chance we'd have today.
I leaned over the workstation and sipped my coffee as a man barked orders to the camera crew in the center of the floor, where the judges table was located. Four kitchens or workstations surrounded the table, set up in the shape of a square. Kitchen A was to our left, and directly across the room from us were C and D. On the other side of Kitchens A and C, the studio audience looked out at all of us. . Since there were no partitions separating each kitchen, we could see everything our competitors were doing and vice versa.
Every appliance, including the workstation I leaned on, was stainless steel. Behind Josie and myself was a thirty-six-foot cubic refrigerator we shared with Kitchen A. Each kitchen had its own two-bowl sink and a set of double Imperial convection ovens. Josie had practically foamed at the mouth when she saw them. Each oven held six grates and were the best for making cookies of this magnitude, she'd said.
A voice from an overhead speaker bellowed down at us. "Fifteen minutes till taping begins, contestants. Please get in your designated places."
"Sally Muccio?" A middle-aged, dark-haired woman in a black, tailored suit approached us. Her name tag read Priscilla. "Hi there. I've been reviewing all of the submissions for Round Two, and it seems we've a little problem with one of your entries."
Baked to Death (Cookies & Chance Mysteries Book 2) Page 12
