“This says you’re the father,” I announced.
“Oh, yeah? According to who?”
I consulted the paper. “A Mimi Smith.”
Averting his eyes, he looked out the window. “Never heard of her.”
“She named him after you.”
Francesco snatched the certificate out of my hand and eyeballed it. “I paid her off,” he howled. Yelling must run in the family. “Almost a year ago. She said there wouldn’t be any kid.”
I pointed to the angel. “She lied, Francesco. She lied. She left you a note too.” I plucked the envelope off my desk and handed it to him. He ran a stubby finger under the flap, tore it open and scanned the message.
“She’s giving me full custody. Her new boyfriend don’t like kids. What kind a animal is that?” He sank onto the settee like his options were either sit down or fall down. “Now what?”
“You’re asking me?”
The shop door opened quietly and Jewels slipped in. “I got tired of waiting. Oooh,” she cooed as she spotted the angel. “I didn’t know you had a baby.”
“I don’t.” I upped my chin at Francesco. “He does.”
Francesco groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead.
Jewels’s eyes widened, two shocked brown pools. “What does she mean?”
Gladiator sandal tapping the floor, arms crossed over her sculpted chest, she waited for his reply. “Well?” she said after a long, silent pause. Clearly she wasn’t going to be put off. She wanted an answer and she wanted one now. Maybe for the first time in their relationship Jewels had the upper hand, and, intrigued, I watched to see how she would play it.
Francesco had slumped as far back as the stiff zebra skin settee allowed. If it were bigger, I think he would have stretched out flat. “Mimi was a mistake,” he began. “We were over before you and I got hitched.”
The tapping got louder.
“Over. I swear.” He pointed to the baby. “I had no idea or I would’ve insisted—”
“On what?” A challenge from Jewels. Gentle, but a challenge nonetheless. “You don’t like kids?”
“I don’t know any.” He shrugged. “How can I tell?”
Jewels knelt next to the basket and gazed at the sleeping infant. “A baby’s a miracle. You know that?” She stroked the soft brown fuzz on his head then tore her gaze away from him for a second to give Francesco a big-eyed stare. “He’s beautiful. He looks just like you.”
Francesco struggled off the settee and bent over the basket for a closer look. “You think so?”
She nodded and smiled.
Probably in a last-ditch effort to deny the little reality in blue, Francesco threw his hands in the air and said, “Who knows? Maybe he’s not mine. Where’s the proof? I’ll have them run a DNA. You know, a paternity test.”
She turned back to the baby. “If you want to. But whatever it says, let’s keep him anyway. I love babies. I would take good care of him and love him because he’s yours.”
“You would?”
She smiled. “If you let me.”
“Let you? You won’t hit me with divorce papers?”
Jewels swiveled around to look up at him, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. “No, of course not. I’m thrilled. Our little girl has a big brother.”
“Our little what?” Francesco’s swarthy complexion looked decidedly pale.
“I’ve been afraid to tell you.” She rocked back on her heels. “I’m pregnant. Four months. She’s a girl.”
“I gotta sit down again,” Francesco said, slumping back on the zebra skin. “Two kids in one day.”
Jewels got up from the floor and sat beside her husband. She put an arm around his shoulder. “You’re a daddy,” she said, “and I’m a momma. So now there’s something you should know.”
“Jeez, something else. I can’t take any more.” He lowered his head to his hands.
Unperturbed, she continued. “I don’t mind not commenting on the house.” She nodded in my direction. “Do anything you like with the inside. But when it comes to the children,” she paused, letting the word sink in, “don’t ever tell me not to comment.”
He stared at her for a moment then looked in the basket.
“Deal!” he shouted, pulling her onto his lap and squeezing her tight. His shout awakened the baby, who promptly started yelling.
Francesco beamed with paternal pride. “He’s a screamer. I like that. In this world, a man’s gotta make his wishes known. You know something else?” he said, looking over at me. “Those preppy colors you mentioned?”
“Yes?”
“Put ’em in two of the bedrooms, okay?”
“A pink and a blue?”
“You got it. My kids deserve the royal treatment.” He raised a warning finger. “In those two rooms only. No high gloss finishes. And as long as we’re talking decorating—” he patted the settee seat, “—don’t put one of these racks in the house. It’s killing my back.”
“Not to worry, Francesco. Right now you have a bigger problem. There’s only one bottle of formula left, and you’re out of diapers.”
*
Jewels had already rocked little Frannie calm and quiet when Rossi finally pulled up in the old Mustang he used on the job.
“Where have you been?” I asked him sotto voce.
I don’t think he heard. He stared at Francesco like he couldn’t believe his eyes. “Well, well. Mr. Grandese in the flesh.”
“You two know each other?” I asked.
“We’ve met,” Rossi said. “So can I assume you’re the child’s father Deva mentioned on the phone?”
Francesco looked at me and frowned. “I forgot you called the cops.”
“I had to.”
He patted me on the back. “Sure. I understand. My son needed protection.”
“Exactly.” I turned to Rossi. “How did you two meet?”
He went all professional on me. I hated it when he did that. “This is an ongoing investigation. No comment.”
No comment? “You too?” I asked.
“What do you mean, me too?” His forehead creased, meshing together what was left of his scorched eyebrows.
“Maybe the lieutenant can’t comment, Deva,” Jewels said, cuddling little Frannie to her breasts, a move that even had Rossi fascinated. “But I can.”
I was looking at a newly liberated woman. What a wonderful sight.
“Detective Rossi impounded what was left of my husband’s car. Impounded, that’s the word, isn’t it, Frannie?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. They’re saying my Ferrari caused the explosion.”
Chapter Six
As soon as Francesco and Jewels left the shop with little Frannie, I didn’t waste any time quizzing Rossi.
“I nearly died in that explosion. I deserve to know the truth. Is Francesco involved?”
A slight hesitation crept into his eyes. I could tell he was carefully weighing what he could and couldn’t say. Finally, he threw me a crumb.
“Technically, yes. And no. Grandese wasn’t present at the time, and right now we don’t know what set off the blast. Or why the Ferrari was parked at the back entrance with the motor running. Grandese said he sent his chauffer to pick up some takeout food. Could be. We just don’t know. But this Donny character was around the building having a smoke when it happened. He has a rap sheet as long as my arm.” Rossi shrugged. “The situation is under investigation.”
“Is that all you can tell me?” I asked, hands on hips shrew fashion.
“Yes. Until we know if we’re dealing with arson or an accident.”
“What’s your gut feeling?”
He waggled a finger under my nose. “I have no intention of telling you. Furthermore, gut reactions don’t solve crimes. Science and practical application do.”
“So you do think a crime’s been committed?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Come on, Rossi. If you can’t trust me, whom can you trust?”
&nbs
p; He hesitated. Again he was weighing his answer.
“You have to think about it?” I asked, on the cusp of being seriously miffed.
“No, that’s not it. I trust you implicitly. It’s Mr. Grandese who’s the problem.”
“That’s bad news. He’s bought a house on Rum Row and wants me to redo the interior. The entire place. Soup to nuts.” I sighed. “It’s a plum of an offer, but not if I’m dealing with a criminal.”
“Right. At the moment we have no reason to believe he is, but my advice is stay away from him. Play it safe. For me, if not for yourself.”
“Not fair. Not fair at all. You know I need this job.”
Eyes snapping fire, he shook his head. “You’re what matters. Not the job.”
“But you’re not sure he’s done anything wrong.”
“True. We’ll know more tomorrow when the arson squad turns in its report. After I see that, if there’s a reason to notify you, I will. Immediately.”
Only partly relieved, I sank onto the settee. “I hope to heaven you won’t have to. But who knows? The man’s such a contradiction. He talks like a thug, his wife looks like a pole dancer, and now you tell me his chauffeur’s done time. On the plus side, he paid me a generous retainer, in cash I might add, no questions asked. Didn’t even mention needing a receipt.”
Rossi treated me to an eyebrow lift. Or what would have been one under normal circumstances.
I eyebrowed him right back. “I gave him a receipt anyway. And he has excellent taste—at least in architecture. Though that stuff he bought remains to be seen.”
“What stuff?”
“I don’t know yet. Furniture. Accessories.” I laughed. “I hope it’s childproof.” I patted the seat. “Come sit beside me.” He did and I snuggled next to him, breathing in his woodsy aftershave. “You like babies?”
“Absolutely.”
“Me too. Holding that baby felt right somehow. I never held one before. Can you believe that? Never.” Tears pricked at my eyelids.
In the next instant I was in Rossi’s arms, my head resting on his chest, my tears soaking into a sunset scene of Waikiki Beach.
“Sorry,” I blubbered. “I don’t know what’s got into me.”
“Cry it out, sweetheart,” he said softly. “You’ve been through a lot these past few days.”
“Yes, I have,” I said, trying not to sniffle. “And before today I never knew how much I liked babies.”
He tensed and, putting a finger under my chin, gently raised my face until I was drowning in those eyes that were as black and shiny as sin. “Will you tell me something?”
He sure wasn’t after what topping I liked on my pizza, so I just nodded, trying to ignore the sudden knot in my stomach.
“You and Jack never had a child, did you?”
“No,” I whispered.
“Can you tell me why?”
He had a certain right to ask, and on some level I had been expecting this question for months. A mirror on the far wall threw back my purple and yellow reflection. I winced and stared down at my hands. I could tell Rossi anything. Still, I held back.
“Was there a problem?” A patient man, a patient detective, he waited for my answer.
I inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly before trusting myself to speak. “At first, for a year or so, we had each other, and that’s all we needed or wanted.”
If Rossi flinched at hearing this, he didn’t let on. He already knew how much I’d loved Jack and how when he died, I thought my life had died with him.
“Go on,” he urged softly.
“Later, when we tried to have a child, nothing happened. We knew we needed to find out why. Jack offered to be tested first. I’ll never forget the day he learned the results. No need for me to go through a barrage of fertility exams, he said. He was the problem. I couldn’t believe that at first. Jack was always so, so—”
Not wanting to shed more tears, I stopped speaking for a moment to catch my breath and let the memories settle before going on.
“You’re only thirty-three. If a child is what you want, you’ll find a way to have one. And someone to have one with. It won’t be Jack’s—” Rossi’s turn to pause and see how this struck me, “—but it will be yours. I have no doubt that will happen someday when you’re ready for it.”
He stood and held out his arms. I walked into them and he drew me close. “You’ll make a wonderful mother,” he murmured into my hair. “You’re so giving, so warm, so beautiful.”
His words and, even more, the tone of his voice turned me to mush. I leaned back a little in his arms to peer up at him. “Beautiful? I’m purple and yellow, and the bruise on my thigh is turning that funny absinthe green.”
He let go of me with one hand and put a finger on my lips. “Shhhh. You are everything I say you are.”
“Aww, Rossi...”
He held me at arm’s length and gazed into my face. “Better now?”
“Yes. I loved what you just said to me.”
Perhaps someday I would have a child after all. It wasn’t too late. That little boy with red hair I’d fantasized about. Or a girl with Latin eyes. Or both. Anything was possible, and for the first time in days I felt like laughing. For years I hadn’t given babies much thought, had pushed the possibility of a child to the furthest edges of my mind as being out of the realm of possibility. But now not so.
I gave Rossi a quick hug. “Let me total up the day’s receipts, and then I’ll be good to go.”
Although Jack had been the one with the problem, maybe I’d go to be tested anyway. Just out of curiosity if nothing else.
Chapter Seven
While Rossi checked his cell phone messages, I added the day’s receipts and put the bank’s leatherette deposit bag in my purse. On our way to see Chip, we could swing by SunTrust and I’d drop the bag in the overnight box.
Stress lines etching his forehead, Rossi pocketed his cell. I grabbed my purse, ready to lock up.
“Sorry, sweetheart, a change in plans. I have to get back to the station.”
“Oh, no.” I groaned. “What about our visit to Chip?”
“If I can, I’ll drop in at the hospital later. But why don’t you go home? Have a glass of wine. Relax.” His hands stroked my arms. I closed my eyes, savoring the touch of his fingers on my bare skin and his whispered, “So smooth.” He bent down and kissed my upper arm. “How about it? After the week you’ve had, you deserve to fall asleep watching TV.”
“Very funny.” I huffed out a sigh. “But I think you’re right.” I couldn’t remember ever being so tired. An effortless evening suddenly seemed perfect.
“Good.” He walked me out to my car. “See you tomorrow. Sleep tight.” A quick kiss and he was gone. No point in complaining. That was life with a detective. Take it or leave it. And leaving it wasn’t an option I was considering.
As soon as I got home, I kicked off the heels, dropped the tote on the foyer tiles and called the hospital. The volunteer at patient information took Chip’s name, and I waited while she checked the computer. After a lengthy pause, she came back on the line. “We have no patient by the name of Chip Salvatore.”
“Are you sure? Please check again.”
Another pause.
“We have no one listed by that name.”
Something was wrong. “Can you connect me with the second-floor charge desk?”
“Just a moment, please.”
A crisp voice picked up. “Nurse Reynolds.”
“This is Deva Dunne. I’m calling about Mr. Salvatore.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t give out—”
“We met yesterday, Nurse Reynolds. I was with Detective Rossi of the Naples PD.”
“Oh, yes,” she said, as curt as ever.
“Could you please give Mr. Salvatore a message for me?”
“No, I can’t. He isn’t here.”
My heart skidded to a near stop. “He didn’t die, did he?”
“No, no. He’s been discharged.”
“But yesterday he could hardly breathe.”
“I know.” Nurse Reynolds’s voice took on a chilly edge. “He left without his doctor’s approval.”
“Whatever possessed him to do that?”
“I have no idea.”
“Did he leave alone?”
“No, with a woman, an AudreyAnn something. Let me check. His file’s here somewhere. Yes, here it is, an AudreyAnn Baranski.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m sorry that’s all the information I have. I hope the police find it helpful.”
The police? Before I could explain I wasn’t with the police, the phone went dead.
I turned off my cell and slumped on the sofa. AudreyAnn. Good grief.
Chip owned the condo next to mine in the Surfside Condominiums. Until about six months ago, when she moved out, AudreyAnn had been his live-in love. Chip, the big teddy bear, adored her. I suspect her traffic-stopping double Ds were a major part of her allure. Actually, they’d probably be soft if poked with a finger, which was a good thing because the rest of her was tough as a two dollar steak.
Despite the double Ds, Chip had to be a masochist to put up with AudreyAnn’s mood swings. Up occasionally, down on a daily basis. So while she lived next door, my friendship with him had been spotty at best. How can you be friends with a loveable Shrek when his Fiona is a bitch?
Though for sure, he hadn’t seen her that way. To fill the crater-sized void she left in his life, he’d thrown himself into starting up his new restaurant, a lifelong dream that had turned to ashes. Literally.
I let out a groan of pure frustration. Pushy in more ways than one, AudreyAnn was now back in both Chip’s life and mine.
On the plus side, though I wasn’t happy she’d returned, Chip probably was. And that was what mattered. I also wasn’t happy that she’d checked him out of the hospital so soon. Still, a hospital wasn’t a prison. He had every right to leave if he wanted to. He hadn’t broken any law.
One thing for certain, tired though I was, I wouldn’t rest tonight until I knew he was okay. So when the lanai slider next door slid open with a familiar thunk, the time had come to pay a call. I forced myself off the sofa and went over to ring their doorbell.
Killer Kitchens (Murders by Design) Page 4
