The door opens, and Deborah Young shuts her eyes and shakes her head.
Hello to you too.
"When do you give up?" she asks.
"I would've given up a month ago, but he won't. And let me tell you, a determined ghost is an annoying one."
Freezer Dude softly groans. I may piss him off, but if it gets me inside, it's worth it.
"I am truly sorry about this, but if there's any way you could let us in and listen, I'd be eternally grateful. I know it's asking a lot. You want nothing to do with him. He deserted you and your mom when he went to prison, but he won't drop it, and I'd like to get on with my life."
"Gianna?" Aunt Stella whispers.
Freezer Dude's groan turns into a growl.
Deborah no longer shakes her head or looks like she's going to slam the door in my face. I'm considering this a win already.
"I am a regular girl with bills I don't always pay on time and a love for all flavors of Ben and Jerry's. Except the one with the salted caramel core. Holy salt overload."
Deborah smirks.
Aunt Stella whispers, "Oh, I see what you're doing."
And Freezer Dude stops impersonating a lion.
"If there's any way at all, I'd consider it a favor because he will not leave me alone until you hear him out."
Deborah stares past me, out onto the street for a moment. I hold my breath and pray I got through to her. I can't imagine what Freezer Dude will be like if we have to leave here because I failed our quest.
"Okay, fine. You can come in, but I'm not making any promises I'll listen," Deborah says.
Aunt Stella giggles. Freezer Dude smiles. His mouth is capable of upturning.
"Thank you." I step over the threshold and want to pump my fists into the air Rocky Balboa style. Instead of singing "Eye of the Tiger" though, I shut the door behind me and follow Deborah into her living room.
It's littered with boxes. I can barely make out the brown sofa, tables, and an armchair in a small, probably used-to-be cozy room. The beige walls are bare, but there are leftover square imprints. The kind that occurs once you remove framed photos after years of them hanging.
Deborah points to an empty spot on the couch.
I sit down and stare at a box near my feet marked photos. "Are you moving?"
"Yes."
Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude float into the room and around the boxes.
"This is why you had to come now," Aunt Stella whispers.
Suddenly it all makes sense.
I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. "Look, I know this is disturbing, weird, even crazy, but the truth is he loves you and misses you. You're about to move away. I'm assuming it won't be close by?"
Deborah shakes her head. "I've been promoted at my job, and it involves moving to a new location. I'm headed to Nebraska."
Nebraska? Isn't that where corn lives?
"That's further than I thought. See, once you leave, he may be able to follow you, but there probably won't be another person who can translate for him. This is his last chance to talk to you. And congratulations on the promotion."
"Thank you. What does he want?" Her eyes dart back and forth as if she's trying to see him.
I look at him, ready to translate whatever I need to.
"Tell her that I'm sorry. I was selfish and only thinking about myself when I did the robberies. I wanted to be able to give her nice things, a future. I didn't see how it would ruin both of our lives. I will always regret not seeing her grow up, not being there for her."
I swallow back a small lump in my throat and repeat everything he said with inflection.
Deborah looks down at the floor. I can only imagine that she feels as touched by his words as I do.
I glance to Aunt Stella. She's watching Freezer Dude, and he's staring at his daughter.
After a few more minutes of sheer silence, Deborah looks up to me and nods. That's it. No words. Nothing to write home about.
Freezer Dude lifts his shoulders and allows them to drop with all of the drama of a teenager. "I've said my peice. There's nothing more I can do."
He's right. As much as it probably stinks to have been raised knowing your dad was spending your life in prison, I feel for him right now. Believe it or not.
I'm not sure how long we can sit here in silence. At some point it will be weirder and more awkward, but I don't want to move until I'm sure she's not going to respond. What can I say? I am a hopeful person. Plus I'm super stubborn and don't always want to accept what's right in front of me.
Finally, after what seems like the rest of my twenties, Deborah says, "Thank you."
The rest of us stare at her, waiting for more. Aunt Stella and Freezer Dude have shock on their faces. I don't blame them. I imagine I'm looking stunned as well.
"I don't know that I'm ready to accept his apology," she says. "But I understand it wasn't his intention to hurt me or my mother. Thank you for coming back, and thank him for simply trying."
It's not perfect, but Freezer Dude doesn't look as grumpy as he always does.
* * *
That evening, Wilma's house feels so alive. Someone strung up fairy lights around the fireplace and the dining room windows. It gives the rooms a sparkle. Add in the arrangements of white roses and the room looks great. Wilma and Fred went all out. I can only imagine there's going to be a positive announcement about their wedding with all of these awesome touches.
Everyone is here. Wilma, Fred, Michael, Kelly, Warren, and Tessa. I don't know how I lucked out to be a part of this. I fear that if I examine it too closely I'll realize that Julian may be right and that Michael may have feelings that are more than friendly. But I could be wrong. Maybe he genuinely likes to hang out with me. Maybe he wants a friendly face here tonight and not just those who are grieving. It's possible. Besides in a short time he'll be heading back home, and he and I will be reduced to Christmas cards.
Wilma and Fred are in the kitchen. She wanted tonight to be homey and is cooking herself. Michael ran to the store for ice, Kelly is with Tessa, who's fussing about something, and I'm sitting on the sofa beside Warren. Imagine that. I'm not sure how we ended up in the same spot. For a moment, there's a great deal of awkwardness.
"What a coincidence, huh?" he asks. He's leaning back with one arm laying across two cushions. If I was sitting back, the tips of his fingers would almost graze my head.
I'm seated on the edge though. "Yes, imagine that."
"The retirement party was great. Thank you."
I genuinely smile, grateful to hear I didn't do anything to screw it up. "You're welcome, but all of the praise goes to Valentina, my boss. I'm new to event planning. Today was my second event."
There you go rambling because you're nervous, Gianna.
The tenseness in his jaw relaxes. "Well, I couldn't tell. You looked as professional as Ms. Vargas."
My smile grows bigger. "Thanks."
Tessa shrieks, and I turn to look at her and her mother.
"She's been picking up on my wife's grief," Warren says. "And Kelly's been beating herself up over it."
"That's understandable. Everyone's emotions are raw now." I glance to him.
He purses his lips slightly and agrees with a moan. "She shouldn't beat herself up. She's a great mom."
That's sweet, but he doesn't seem to say it with much feeling. What little I've seen from him so far though, he's not easy to read.
Since he's being personal, this seems as good a time as any to ask, "Were you close with Raina?"
He drops his arm off the cushions and leans forward some. "Yes, I like to think so. She stayed with us whenever she visited, which was a couple of times a year at least. She adored Tessa, but lately she was busy. She wasn't able to visit much this year."
That's odd. According to Van, who isn't the most reliable person on the planet, Raina hadn't been busy lately. He says the movie deals weren't coming in for her anymore. So who's right? Probably Raina's brother-in-law? Unless they are both r
ight, and Raina used her schedule as an excuse to not come home. What was she up to in Hollywood?
Investigating her would be much easier if I lived in California.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Forty minutes later, we're all seated at the elaborately decorated table, spooning rice pilaf, baby peas, and herb-crusted salmon onto fine china. Wow, Wilma's gone all out. Tall white pillar candles, crystal goblets, and more roses, not to mention the food. I don't think Ma and Pop has ever served salmon to our entire family. Maybe they sneak some when the rest of us aren't around. It's not exactly affordable.
"Wilma says you work at your family's deli," Fred says to me. "Do you like it?"
I sip my water and then say, "It's okay."
Everyone must expect me to say that I love it, so when I don't, they chuckle.
I smile and glance at Michael. He's laughing the hardest.
"I love the place. I grew up there, but I…" I start to tell them about the new job, but I'll feel guilty if I don't tell Ma and Pop first. "It's a good job."
I glance to Warren to see if he'll say something. He's too busy trying to get Tessa to eat something to be paying attention to me.
Tessa continues to fuss. She's in a high chair between her parents, and she's obviously not happy with the plate of peas, fish, and banana slices they put on the tray before her. Kelly rubs her back, which only makes the toddler crankier.
Fred smiles at the child as if she's done something cute.
Wilma, on the other hand, fidgets in her seat.
Warren stands and pulls his daughter out of her seat. "Excuse us. She needs some quiet time."
Tessa calms in his arms and tugs at the knot of his tie. He takes her off into another room anyway.
Kelly pushes a strand of hair from her face. There's color in her cheeks, and she doesn't look any of us in the eye. "I'm sorry about that. She's gone through so much recently."
Wilma pats her niece's hand. "No need to apologize, dear. Everyone has been strained. Babies pick up on that."
Fred and Michael agree, giving Kelly their support.
Wilma lays down her fork and holds her hands together, steeple-ing her fingers. "Well, I should put everyone out of their misery and announce that Fred and I are going through with our wedding next month."
A round of cheers circles the table. Kelly's expression goes from worried to happy.
"Congratulations," Kelly, Michael, and I say in unison.
Fred smiles at his bride-to-be and then stands and walks into the kitchen. He returns with a bottle of champagne. As he opens it, he looks toward the hall. "Should we wait for Warren to return?"
Wilma wiggles her nose. "No. He may be a while."
I smirk at her eagerness.
Fred pours the bubbly for each of us and then returns to his place at the end of the table. He remains standing and holds up his glass. "To my beautiful future wife. Thank you for making me the happiest man alive."
My heart swells. They are adorable.
We raise our glasses, cheer, and sip the champagne. It pops and fizzles going down. I'm not a big champagne drinker. I've only ever had it at weddings. It's good, but I'm not sure what the good stuff tastes like. I could be wrong.
"Do you have many more details to figure out for the wedding?" Kelly asks.
Wilma sets down her glass and shakes her head. "No. I have to put together the favors and check in with everyone. I should've hired a wedding planner, but I thought it would be more personal if I did it all myself. I don't know how you planned yours, Kelly. Were you nearly bonkers by time your big day arrived?"
Kelly looks at Wilma, down to her plate, and then back to her aunt. "Oh yeah. Yes, I was."
Wilma giggles. "Next time, I'll hire that lovely woman who organized the shower. Valentina."
I smile to myself at the reference.
"Next time?" Fred asks. His brow is formed into a deep frown. But then it immediately disappears, and his grin is wide. "I hope we aren't divorcing in the future."
Wilma chuckles loud when she realizes what she said. "No. Never. I meant the next time I'm having a big party."
He winks at her, and they share a public-private moment of smiles and googly eyes.
Then Wilma glances at the three of us and remembers we're sitting here watching them. She lifts a forkful of rice. "Michael, I think you should invite Gianna as your plus one."
"Absolutely." Michael tilts his glass toward me and gives me a smoldering look that he shouldn't be giving.
Oh boy!
* * *
After dinner, Michael and I get a few minutes alone in the living room. Kelly and Warren are dealing with Tessa in a bedroom upstairs, and Wilma and Fred are in the kitchen. They insisted on no one helping them clean up.
I'm apprehensive about what to say to Michael concerning the wedding invite. Do I need to remind him that I'm more-or-less taken, and even if I'm not, he shouldn't assume anything?
He walks into the hall and comes back in with a small cardboard box. He sits beside me on the couch, real close, and opens the box. "I have shower pictures."
"Oh, cool." Our conversation can wait. Pictures are much better and less anxiety producing. Okay, maybe I'm being a chicken and don't want to deal with it now.
He pulls them out and hands them over one by one.
Vivid, colorful photos of happy, cheering, smiling faces and all of the yummy food. Oh, there are my cupcakes. Ha, I act like I made them. But I made them pretty.
"They're gorgeous," I say.
"Thank you. I printed them out for my mother so she can frame some."
I hold one extra long, staring at Wilma opening a present. I'm not sure why, but something is drawing me to it. I turn it sideways and look from another angle. I'm still not seeing it, but when I turn it back upright, it hits me.
It's the coffee table. It was in the middle of the living room during the shower but not there when I found Raina's body. And if I remember correctly, this one is different than the one at Kelly's the other day. The one in the photo has a glass inlay on top. The one I sat in front of the other day was all wood. Did someone replace it? When? Or more importantly, why all of a sudden now?
"Is something wrong?" Michael asks.
"Oh, no, I just don't remember the table at the shower." What a lame thing to say.
"It was moved."
I look into his eyes. "What?"
"You were in the kitchen when that picture was taken, frosting the cupcakes. They moved the table when they started dancing."
Of course. Wilma and a couple of her friends decided to burn off dinner and turned on the radio. Izzie and I stepped into the dining room, as far away as possible. We didn't want to be dragged onto the makeshift dance floor. I don't recall seeing anyone move the table, but I had accompanied Izzie to the bathroom two more times and tried catching Raina alone. I wasn't in the living room the whole time.
"Where did they put it?" I ask.
Michael reaches into the box and takes out the photo of Wilma wearing a paper hat with gift bows attached. He points to an area near the floor, behind her chair. A corner of the table sticks out. "There. They put it up by the front windows. What's special about a coffee table?"
I shrug and try to play off my concern, but adrenaline has shot through me, and I'm ready to bounce off the walls. "Nothing. I'm just weird like that."
He softly chuckles as if I made a cute joke.
I don't know if this means anything. Maybe the table was already busted and moving it during the party made it worse and Kelly or her husband bought a new one. Or maybe the table was broken by Raina during her fall. That seems the most likely, but then I would've found broken shards of wood beneath her. Did someone clean it up? That makes no sense. If someone went to that trouble, I wouldn't have found her lying there. They would've called the police. No one cleans up around a dead bod…
My stomach clenches. Oh my God. Julian's job would require him to clean up around a dead body, to move a dead body, who knows
what else with a dead body. But I don't want to believe it.
"Hey, can you send me these? Digital copies." My voice sounds trembly. That's exactly how my insides and mind feel.
"All of them?" His smile suggests he's super proud of his work, and he should be. But that's not the reason I want them.
"Yes. All of them." I want to compare them to the pictures taken when Raina's body was found. The crime scene photos.
If nothing else, I'm now certain Raina's death wasn't a simple accident.
* * *
When I get home, I go straight to bed. Who knew that some party planning, a dinner, and mentally accusing your boyfriend of covering up a murder—job or no job—can tucker a person out? Of course, there was some tossing and turning before drifting off, and I woke up way later than normal. I have enough time to shower and dress in a black mini skirt, matching tights, my almost-gone-but-back boots, and a fuzzy, light pink, short-sleeve sweater before heading to Ma's.
I make it just in time for them to head into the dining room to eat. I'm famished. It works out perfectly. I sit down and realize Julian's across from me giving me these weird, quick glances. Maybe they're weird because I keep darting looks at him too. We didn't hug and kiss when I arrived like we normally do. To be honest, I had Ma on my mind. If you show up late, she gives out the stink eye. She must not be paying much attention though, because she's barely looked at me. She seems to be preoccupied. Everyone except Alice does.
I can't tell if there's tension in the air or if we're all self-absorbed. There's no chatter. The only sounds are people chewing and silverware clanking. Everyone has their head down, staring at their plates. This will be a slow afternoon.
I glance to my brother. I want to get him alone. I need his help with the crime scene photos. He's the only one who can get me access to them. I move my gaze to Julian. At some point in time, he and I will need to discuss this, but I'm not in a rush. We're likely to argue again. This isn't my business. No matter how many times I tell myself that though, I can't let it go.
Aunt Angela glances over her shoulder several times. She catches my eye, and I shake my head. No, Aunt Stella isn't here. She's probably making out with Freezer Dude somewhere. Aunt Angela offers a small smile and continues eating.
Cupcakes, Butterflies & Dead Guys (Gianna Mancini Mysteries Book 3) Page 14
