We settled in the living room. Toni was quiet, thinking about Steven maybe? That worked for me, I was too exhausted to talk. Fifteen minutes later she pulled herself off the sofa. “I’d better get going. I won’t sleep knowing my gun is still there.”
As well as I knew her, I had no idea whether a gun was something she always carried, or if this was a new thing.
“Honestly Toni, what’s the point? It’s late.”
“It’ll only take me a minute.” She blew me a kiss and left, calling over her shoulder, “See you in the morning. I’ll pick you up at the same time.”
I closed the door behind her and went to the mudroom to let the dogs out. While they ran around in the backyard, I got rid of the soiled wee-wee pads and set out clean ones. The minute they were all back in, safe and sound, I picked up my house phone and checked my messages.
“Hey, sweetheart.” It was Mitchell. My heart did a somersault. “Just calling to let you know I’m thinking of you. Bunny and I have been working since seven o’clock this morning and we’re just going out to grab a bite. If you try to call me, you’ll probably get my voice mail. I’ll be turning off my phone while we’re in the restaurant. I’ll call you back soon. Love you.”
Bunny. I pictured the two of them sitting across from each other in some cozy little restaurant. I imagined them leaning close, feeding each other morsels from their plates, while playing footsies under the table. The vision left me feeling sick. I put the phone down, scowling. And then on the spur of the moment, I picked it up and punched in his number—hard.
I waited for the beep, and using a light easy tone I said, “Hey, Mitchell. I’m happy the writing is going well. Sorry I haven’t been around when you called. I just got out of the hospital.” There, that should make him feel guilty. “I was in a bit of an accident a few days ago. I got hit by a car. By a hit-and-run driver, actually. My left ankle got pretty badly broken. But the orthopedic surgeon operated on me and now I’m getting around on crutches.” Maybe I was pouring it on a bit thick. But hey, every word was true. “So, all’s well. Ciao for now.” I hung up, wondering how long it would be until I heard from him. It had better be soon, otherwise Toni would turn out to be right. There would be fireworks.
“Ready for bed, doggies?” I locked the doggie door and hobbled up the stairs, followed by a parade of Yorkies. They climbed, every step a challenging height for their tiny legs. When they reached the landing, they scurried by madly to their night kennel.
I slipped on a nightgown and picked up a piece of paper I noticed on my night table. It contained a phone number. It took me a second to decipher the handwriting, and then could only make out the first name, Edna. Damn. This was the number of that client Jake had asked me to call. I’d forgotten all about her—again. This time, I copied down her name and number on a larger piece of paper, which I set on my bedside table. It would be the first thing I saw tomorrow morning.
By the time I collapsed into bed, it was midnight. I was out like a light. It felt like just a few minutes later that the phone rang. I groped around in the dark and picked it up on the third ring. This time it had to be Mitchell.
“Hello?” I answered groggily.
“Is this Nicole Landry, owner of Skinny’s on Queen?” asked a male voice I didn’t recognize.
“Who is this?” I asked, looking at my alarm clock. Four-thirty in the morning—what the heck?
“This is Inspector McCartney of the fire department. We have your name as the contact person for your business.”
I bolted upright, biting back a shriek as a flash of pain ran through my ankle. “The fire department? Why? What happened?”
“I’m sorry I have some bad news, ma’am. There’s been a fire at your place of business.”
An image of flames leaping from our restaurant flashed through my mind. Oh, no. My Wolf stove, all the lovely old dishes and cutlery that Toni and I had spent months of Saturdays hunting for at flea markets and garage sales, the fuchsia tables and chairs we’d painted ourselves—would they all be reduced to ashes? I squeezed my eyes against the nightmarish picture. “How bad is it?”
“I’m afraid it’s pretty bad.”
“I’ll be right over.” I slammed down the phone and picked it up again, dialing Toni’s number. I let it ring four times and then her message came on. “This is you know who,” it said, sounding suggestive. “At the sound of the you know what, you know what to do.” Beep.
Of course, Toni would have chosen tonight, of all nights, to sleep at Steven’s. I was about to dial her cell phone when it occurred to me that there was no point in waking her with the horrible news. Why should both of us have to get up at such an ungodly hour? I would take care of the problem myself and give her a full report in the morning. I hung up and picked up again immediately, punching in the number of a cab company.
“This is an emergency. How fast can you get a car here?”
“We’ll have somebody there in a few minutes, ma’am,” the dispatcher answered.
I hopped around on one foot, pulling on any clothes that fell under my hands, until, fifteen minutes later I was dressed. My hair was a mess and my eyes were still puffy from sleep when the taxi drove up, but at least I was ready. I hurried out as fast as I could.
The driver—bless him—took one look at my stricken face and put the pedal to the floor, getting me to within three blocks of the restaurant in record time. But from there he had to inch along in the stalled traffic. About twenty feet farther we came to a complete stop, half a dozen emergency vehicles blocking the road.
“Sorry, lady, this is as far as I can take you.”
“Please, can’t you do something? I have to get there. That’s my restaurant on fire. There must some way you can get me closer.”
He studied me through the rearview mirror and took pity on me. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.” He turned off the motor and got out of the car, jogging over to the nearest cop. He said something, pointing insistently in my direction.
The cop followed him back and opened the back door. “Are you the owner of that restaurant?”
“Yes, I am. The fire inspector called and asked me to come down. But I can’t walk. I have a broken ankle.”
“Okay.” He closed the door and spoke to the driver, who hopped back into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. We crept on another fifty feet or so, snaking our way between one emergency vehicle after another. Meanwhile the police officer ran on ahead, waving us through.
The closer we got, the more I could see of the devastation. The fire seemed to be out, but the front of the restaurant was dark with soot. The window was smashed into a giant gaping mouth with glass shards shaped like teeth. Through this wide-open jaw bellowed clouds of thick smoke. I squinted, trying to see farther inside, and caught a glimpse of even more destruction—black walls, burned and smashed furniture and, everywhere, dripping water. My entire future was gone.
Tears trembled on my lashes. We had worked so hard to create this restaurant. I had pinned so much hope on it. “It’s ruined. The whole place is destroyed.”
The driver’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “I can’t get any closer. Maybe I can find someone to help you. I’ll be right back.” He jumped out of the cab again, returning a few minutes later accompanied by two firemen.
I pushed open the car door. “I’m the owner of the restaurant. Can you tell me where Fire Inspector McCartney is? He wants to talk to me.”
The taller of the two—a muscular young man who could have performed in a Chippendale’s show—began to say something, and then noticed my cast. “Oh.” He scratched his head. “Hold on to my neck.” In one easy movement he swept me off the seat and into his arms.
“Wait, my crutches,” I said.
The driver pulled them out and handed them over to the fireman, who carried me as if I weighed no more than a feather, all the way to a small emergency vehicle a short distance from all the commotion. “That’s the fire inspector.” He nodded towa
rd a middle-aged man with a handlebar mustache and flinty eyes. “Hey, chief, I’ve got the owner here,” he called out to him.
“Nicky Landry?” the man asked. “After we talk, the police will want to have a moment with you too.” He marched off toward a police car, said a few words to someone inside and returned. “Come with me.”
The young fireman had been standing by. Now, he scooped me up again and carried me to the fire inspector’s car. Soon, I found myself sitting in the back seat with a cup of takeout coffee, while I tried to make sense of everything the inspector was telling me.
“We’ll have to do a full investigation and get a pathologist’s report before we call it murder, but I have to tell you, so far it looks pretty suspi—”
My mind snapped to attention. “Did you just say murder?”
He stared at me, hard. “That’s what I said, ma’am.”
My mouth went dry. “Somebody is dead? How do you know it was murder?”
He pointed to a man in fireman’s garb. “He’s the coroner’s investigator, and he’s found evidence of a bullet wound.”
My pulse went into overdrive. Even as I asked, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Do you know who it is?”
“We haven’t identified her yet.” At that moment, a group of firemen walked out of the building carrying a gurney. On it was what I assumed was the body of the victim. I wasn’t certain since it was covered with a fireman’s blanket. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I hoped, I prayed that it wasn’t—
At that moment the blanket slipped, and one of the men quickly pulled it back in place, but not before I caught a glimpse of a human head covered with something that looked like a tangle of string.
I swallowed hard. “You said her? You mean it’s a woman?”
The inspector nodded. “Any idea who she might be?”
My breath was coming in short little gasps. “My girlfriend...partner...she—”
“Is your girlfriend a blonde?” he asked, and all at once I realized the tangle had been a lock of wet blond hair. Toni’s? Black spots suddenly appeared before my eyes. They grew bigger until everything went black.
The next thing I knew, I was lying on the back seat of the cop car, and the good-looking young fireman was holding up my head.
“Here, drink this. Ah, here we go,” he said, as I choked back a gulp of water, and then over his shoulder he called out, “She’s coming around now, sir.”
A police officer came jogging over and together he and the young fireman helped me to a sitting position, as the inspector stood by, studying me coldly. My coat was dripping wet from the coffee I’d spilled all over myself. All I could think was that it couldn’t be Toni. Please God make it not be Toni.
The policeman, a tall bald man who exuded authority, gave me a sympathetic smile. He handed me a paper napkin from the coffee shop. I wiped my eyes, blew my nose.
“I know this is hard for you,” he said, “but any information you can give us at this point will be of great help.”
Unable to utter a sound through my tight throat, I nodded.
He turned to the inspector. “I’ll take it from here, if you don’t mind.” He climbed into the back seat, sitting next to me. “I’m Officer Duncan,” he said, handing me a card. “Do you have any idea who the victim might be?”
I tried to speak again but nothing came out.
“Take a deep breath,” he said.
I did, and found my voice. “It could be my partner, Toni Lawford.” Speaking the words made it seem all the more real, and tears welled in my eyes.
“Is your partner tall and slender and has blond hair?”
It took all I had to just nod.
“What makes you believe it could be her?”
“She dropped me off at home after work, and she was going back to pick up something she’d left behind.” I purposely avoided mentioning this something just so happened to be a gun.
“At what time was this?”
“I think it was somewhere around eleven-thirty.”
As he wrote this down, a horrible thought occurred to me. The inspector had used the word murder. Toni did not just die. Somebody had killed her. I began hyperventilating.
This confirmed it. What had happened to me a few days ago was no accident. That woman was out to kill Toni and me. And she had already accomplished half her goal. And then another thought occurred to me. Toni hadn’t yet changed her will. I stood to inherit millions. I would be rich—filthy rich. But I had just lost my best friend. A lump settled in my stomach. I didn’t want her money. I wanted Toni.
“Why would anybody want to kill her?” I asked, tears trembling on my lashes.
“It could be just a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or—” He studied me for a second and then added, “Any idea who might benefit from seeing your partner dead?”
Knowing the way cops think, I was sure to become their number-one suspect. I decided to play dumb. “I have no idea.”
it doesn’t mean we have to lie down and take it
The questioning went on for a long time. I gave him the name of all the restaurant employees and their contact information. He asked for the name of the business’s insurance company, and I had to admit that being new and since we’d only recently started covering our operating costs, we hadn’t gotten around to getting coverage.
His eyes studied me. “That’s too bad. You probably invested a lot of money in this, didn’t you?”
“Everything I had,” I said. As terrible as that was, it was nothing compared to losing Toni.
“Any idea who could have done this?” he asked, and I told them about the threats the crazy woman had made. And then I spent the next hour going over every detail of the confrontation, describing her in detail. I answered questions until I couldn’t think straight. Meanwhile, I wanted to point out that, if the police had taken my hit-and-run seriously, they might have found who did it. And then Toni would still be alive.
At last he called over one of the younger officers milling around and told him to take me home. By then it was six o’clock in the morning. Most of the emergency vehicles had left. Two fire trucks remained, and a few police cars. The policeman jogged over to one of them, hopped in and drove over. He helped me into the passenger seat and I gave him my home address. It was still dark out, but not for long. It was almost time to get up.
“You’re sure you’ll be all right by yourself?” he asked, pulling up in front of my house. He handed me his card.
I slipped it into my pocket, adding it to the others I’d collected.
“If you like, I could drive you to the hospital,” he continued. “You’ve had a bad shock.”
“I’ll be fine.” I glanced at Mitchell’s house, which was bathed in darkness. My throat clenched. I so, so needed to hear his voice, feel his arms around me. I pushed the door open and struggled to get out.
“Wait. Let me help.” The officer hopped out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side. He handed me my crutches from the backseat and saw me to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone for you? I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said, putting my key in the lock. To my surprise, the door swung open. In my rush to get to the restaurant I must have forgotten to lock it. I glanced over my shoulder at him shuffling, unsurely.
“We’ve already put out an APB with a full description of this woman,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll pick her up in no time. In the meantime, keep your door locked, stay close to home and call me if you think of anything else we should know.”
I nodded. “I will. Thank you.” And before he could give me any more advice, I stepped inside and closed the door. I needed to be alone. From the window I watched as he hesitated another second or two. And then he turned and strode down the walk back to his car.
At that moment Jackie came tearing down the stairs, barking at full volume. I tottered over, dropped my crutches and plopped
myself down on the bottom step, gathering her in my arms. I buried my nose in her neck and the tears burst forth. They came in heaving, racking sobs, leaving me gasping for breath.
“Oh, Jackie, what am I going to do? She’s dead, Jackie. She’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?” The voice took me by such surprise I nearly jumped out of my skin. I screamed. When I looked up, Toni was standing before me in living flesh and blood. She looked disheveled but perfectly healthy.
I gasped, clutching my heart. “Oh my God, you’re alive!”
She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “And why, exactly, does this surprise you?”
“I thought you—” Before I could complete my thought, I burst into tears again. And before I knew it, I was laughing and crying, tears mingling with my runny nose. I had completely lost it, and I couldn’t have cared less.
Toni came over, sitting next to me on the stair. She wrapped an arm around me and sniffed my hair. “You smell like smoke. Unless you’ve picked up smoking, I’m guessing you were just at the restaurant.” I hiccupped and more tears came streaming down my cheeks. She patted my arm. “There, there—don’t worry. It was just a small business, no big loss. We can start over.”
I wiped my eyes and looked at her. “You—you know about the fire?” I hiccupped.
“That’s why I’m here.” She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out the copy of the house key I’d given her months earlier in case of emergency. She brandished it. “I hope you don’t mind that I just let myself in.” She slipped it back in her pocket and continued, “I was watching television when a report of the fire came on. I was going to call you but decided to let you sleep. I raced over, but I couldn’t get anywhere near. There were emergency vehicles everywhere. So I came over here. When I found you gone, I guessed you heard about the fire too. I decided to wait.”
I looked over to the living room and noticed the pillow and blankets on the sofa. She offered me her hand and helped me up, handing me my crutches. “Come on, I’ll make us some coffee.”
Getting Rich (A Chef Landry Mystery) Page 12
