by Vella Day
Mick stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. “Just ask. We’re here for you.”
Tessa knew what a lucky person she was to have such a devoted staff. At first, she’d questioned her decision to hire the ex-con, but he’d worked out fine. No, more than fine. His work ethic was impeccable, which meant a person could improve his life after being in prison.
She pulled a torn picture from her pocket. She thought she’d gotten rid of every photo of Ralph, but this one had been stuck in a book.
“This isn’t a very good likeness, but I have reason to suspect this man murdered my father.”
Mumblings echoed in the near empty bar, as she passed around the picture. “Let me explain.” As hard as it was to discuss her failed marriage, in a way, it brought closure. “So if any of you see this man hanging out around here, would you let me know?”
Mellow Roger stepped forward. “If you’re sure he’s the one, I can arrange for some of my buddies to keep watch in the parking lot,” he announced in a slow, metered tone.
How sweet. “No, Roger, that’s all right. I don’t want us to take any action against him. The police can handle it.”
“If he hurts you,” Charley said in a deep, threatening tone, “you promise to let me know.”
“I will, but I’m not asking any of you to play hero. That’s what the police are for.” Suddenly self-conscious with everyone staring, she waved them away. “Let’s clean up and get out of here.”
As the staff scattered, a sense of safety blanketed the place. At least when Tess was at the restaurant, she’d be safe from Ralph.
Dom didn’t know why he was parked down the street from Tessa’s house at three in the morning. He should be asleep in his big, comfortable bed. His captain sure as hell hadn’t ordered the surveillance, and his body had protested every time he tried to get comfortable in the front seat, but his gut told him it was his duty to keep her safe.
Tessa’s big blue eyes kept appearing in his mind every time he closed his. He could tell she fought to stay strong, not wanting her dad’s death to cripple her, but behind her mask, Dom had seen fear.
Although he had no proof Ralph Ferino murdered her dad or was even in Florida, Dom believed Tessa when she told him her ex wanted to do her harm.
Her kitchen light blinked on, and he straightened. Three a.m. All he could think of was that Mandy had demanded some food. Dom wanted to assure her she’d be safe, and to let her know he, not Ralph, was outside watching to make sure her ex didn’t come for a visit, but given how skittish she was, if he knocked, she’d freak.
It pissed him off he’d been unable to trace Ferino’s whereabouts once the felon was discharged from prison. It was as if the guy disappeared completely. Most likely he bought a fake I.D. and used cash to prevent the police from tracing his location.
Cops understood the law, and criminals prided themselves in outsmarting cops. The two together were a lethal combination.
Dom had other cases to work besides the Wilkerson case and Bob Dirkman’s murder. Not getting a good night’s sleep wouldn’t help him keep sharp, but he couldn’t let this killer get near Tess. If he spent every night here then so be it.
Dom rolled down his window to listen for any oncoming cars. Once her light flicked off, he stretched out in the cab the best he could and prayed the boogieman would stay away until he could find a way to nail him.
Dom leaned back in his office chair and suppressed a yawn. “Did Mr. Wilkerson’s lover gave you nothing?” he asked his partner.
“Not much. After Taylor Wilkerson’s wife came home a day early from her business trip and found them in bed, the mood evaporated.”
“I can imagine.” Dom took a sip of his tepid coffee. “This stuff tastes like shit. Who made it?”
“Cantori, who else?”
“No kidding. Did this lover boy produce an alibi for the time after the wife stormed off?”
“The usual. He went home and watched television. Alone. No witnesses.” Phil held up a hand. “And before you ask, I did ask around. The old lady next door said she saw lights on at his place.”
“Good job.”
Dom’s phone rang. “Rossi.” Phil picked up the Wilkerson folder.
“Hey, hey. Long time no see.”
“Trace? That you, buddy?” The call brought a smile to his lips. When Trace had first joined the force in Tampa, Dom thought he would be the younger brother he never had—until Trace screwed up, that is.
“Sure is. I won’t keep you as I know you’re knee deep in cases, but I’m coming to town for a week and was wondering if I could crash at your place?”
Dom’s guilt surfaced. “Sure man. Did Emma kick you out?”
“As a matter of fact, she did.”
He’d only been kidding. “Sorry, to hear it.”
“We’ll talk when I get there, but I’m hoping I might convince the Captain to give me my old job back.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. I know I screwed up before, but Emma made a new man out of me. I’m not a stupid thirty year old anymore.”
Could be true. “I’ll let the Captain know the prodigal son has returned.”
“See you in about three hours. Key in the same hidden spot?”
The guy was always pushing the envelope. Maybe he hadn’t changed. “Sure, but it takes close to eight hours to get here from Atlanta.”
“I know. I got a head start. I’m past Jacksonville as we speak.”
“How did you know I’d be around?”
Trace laughed, and the sound conjured up some good times and some times he’d rather forget.
“You’re always home.”
True. “See you when I get off work.”
“Can’t wait, man.”
Dom hung up, and Phil cocked a brow. “Who was that?”
“Your predecessor.”
“That guy? I thought he got booted out of here for pulling some crazy stunt.”
“He was. Trace didn’t fight the accusation though, because his fiancé wanted to live near her parents in Atlanta. Now she’s told him to take a hike. He decided he wanted to return here.”
“As your partner?”
Dom held up a hand. “No way. The guy is loads of fun, is amazing at gatherings, and incredible at analyzing trace evidence—hence the nickname. But as a partner, he was challenging. No. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
Phil smiled. “Good.”
“Now, let’s get back to work. I’m guessing you have your finger on the Dirkman case?”
“Have I ever let you down?”
Though Phil said it in jest, Dom could tell his question was serious. “Never.”
His partner jumped off Dom’s desk and headed to his own.
When Dom pulled into his driveway, a souped up Chevy Avalanche sat in his drive. Trace sure went all out in the vehicle department. He hoped it was a present from Emma. By now, she must have finished her internship and was probably raking in the dough at one of the local hospitals. If she had bought it for him, Dom was surprised she hadn’t asked for the truck back.
His front door popped open and Trace strode out, beer in hand, and a grin wider than Tampa Bay. “Howdy, partner.”
Despite some of their differences, Dom was glad to see his old friend. They shook hands, and then Trace pulled him into a short bear hug. He guessed his former partner had forgiven him.
Dom stepped back. “You’re looking well rested. A little pale from lack of sun, but otherwise fit.”
“Atlanta’s been good to me, but it’s time to move on. Say, I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat and catch up on old times?”
“I know just the place.”
After Dom cleaned up, he and Trace headed to the Blue Moon.
“This place looks like a dump,” Trace said, as they pulled into the dirt parking lot.
“Not on the inside. I think you’ll like it. The manager is part of a case I’m working on.” Dom filled in Trace as they headed to the
entrance.
“I hope the food’s good.”
“I can vouch for one or two menu items.”
Dom flicked a glance at the bar as they entered and caught sight of Tessa, her elbows resting on the counter, talking to a man. His stomach churned. Dom chalked it up to hunger and not to anything akin to attraction.
“Two for dinner?” the too thin hostess asked. She was the same one who’d been there the last time Dom had come.
“Sure.”
“Table or booth?”
So many questions. Dom nodded to Trace to let him decide.
“Booth,” his friend answered.
Once they were seated, Chelsea rushed over. She looked at Dom, smiled, and then shot a glance over at Trace. Her eyes widened in obvious appreciation.
She turned back to Dom. “Detective, you didn’t tell me you had such a handsome friend.”
Dom swallowed a smile as Trace’s eyes widened. “This is Hamilton Lowell, but he goes by, Trace. Trace, Chelsea.”
She brushed a wisp of blonde hair out of her face. “Nice to meet you. I’m free Monday, Tuesday and Friday if you’re going to be around.”
Now it was Dom’s turn to be surprised at her brash overture. Usually, he took the initiative to ask women out. Maybe times had changed since Lisa had died.
“Well, Chelsea,” Trace said. “I may have to take you up on that, but I’m only staying for a week right now. I do plan to move here shortly.”
She giggled. “I’ll be here. Now can I get you fellows something to drink?”
Trace ordered a beer and Dom a Coke.
Trace leaned back in the booth and stretched his arms along the wooden back. “Wow. I’m likin’ this place. I hadn’t planned to score this trip, but it looks like I might get lucky.”
“I see you haven’t changed since you left.”
Trace threw him an exaggerated frown. “Ouch, good buddy. Maybe you ought to try it. Might lighten you up. How long has it been since you’ve had any?”
Dom debated lying, but he was too tired to make the effort. “Not for a while.”
Trace raised a brow. “Now why am I not surprised? I understand you had to go through a time of mourning after Lisa died, but you have to move on, guy. It’s been over three years.”
“I have moved on.” Discussing his love life, what there was of it, wasn’t on his list of must dos.
“Excuse me, Mr. Rossi.”
Dom looked up. Eleanor and Madge hovered over them. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen them sneak up nor smelled Eleanor’s overpowering, flowery perfume, until now.
“Ladies, how nice to see you, again.” He meant it. They took the focus off his life.
Eleanor leaned forward. “When we spoke the other day, you seemed like you were interested in what goes on at the bar. And if you’re back, I’m guessing you took notice of our Tessa.”
He didn’t know how to answer her, so he kept quiet.
“Well, I thought you would want to know what we overheard last night,” Eleanor continued. The proverbial image of a cat with yellow feathers sticking out of its mouth came to mind.
Trace couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. “Ladies, why don’t you join Mr. Rossi and me?”
Dom was grateful for any insight the ladies could provide, but a little annoyed Trace hadn’t asked him first. But, that was Trace.
Both Dom and Trace scooted over to give the ladies room. Madge sat next to Dom, and her powdery scent made his sinuses revolt. He sneezed. “Excuse me.”
“You’re excused. Eleanor, you go first, and then I’ll fill in,” Madge said.
“Okay. Well, last night two gentlemen came to the Blue Moon. They wore beautifully tailored suits and subtle colored ties with pale, silk shirts. Their hair was trimmed short in the back with the most divine thick hair on top. Why, I’d go to their hairdresser if—”
“Eleanor,” Madge chided.
“Oh, sorry. I do get carried away sometimes. Anyway, we couldn’t help but stare. A little young for us, but it never hurts to check out the goods.”
“Of course not,” Dom chimed in, suppressing a smile.
“Anyway, Barb waited on them. They didn’t want dinner, only a drink.”
Dom was tempted to check his watch, but he figured that would be rude. Eleanor did have a way of extending a story.
Madge placed a hand on Eleanor’s arm. “What she’s trying to say, in a very long-winded way, is that two men, who we later found out were developers, stopped by to speak to Tessa about selling the place.”
Now that was news. “And what did she say?” Dom asked with sincerity.
It was Eleanor’s turn to answer. “She said, no, of course.”
Trace leaned forward. “And how far away were you ladies that you could hear their conversation?”
Dom would have been willing to bet they’d planted microphones under each of the tables to listen in on the patrons’ discussions.
“Well, we got real lucky. The booth behind them vacated right after they sat down, and we asked to move there. We could hear everything they said.”
“Did you happen to learn their names by any chance?” Dom asked.
“Why, Mr. Rossi. What do you take us for?” Another rhetorical question, no doubt. “Of course, we did. The tall, good-looking one called himself Grady Jankowski. He runs the Jankowski Development Company, which recently purchased the fifty acres on either side of this place in order to put in high scale condos, townhomes, and four office buildings. He’ll have a marina, retail stores, and walking paths. Why if we had the money, Madge and I would move in.”
The woman was a walking ad. “Why did Tessa say she wasn’t interested in selling? Was it the price?”
“Oh, no. Judd’s the real owner and she knew he’d never sell. The other gentleman actually did most of the money talk. I think he was the accountant. We unfortunately missed his name. But it sounded like something-mino. Maybe Polkmino or Bulmino.”
Palomino? “Well, you ladies are quite the sleuths,” Dom commented. Both smiled as if he’d made their day. “Let me ask you something,” Dom said. “How would you describe everyone’s mood during the talks?”
Madge wiggled her fingers indicating she wanted to answer. “Yes, Madge,” Dom said.
“At first, the two men were very friendly, but Tessa wasn’t in the best of moods. Poor thing. I can’t imagine why she even came to work. Her father had been murdered just the other day.” She took a deep breath. “Oh, you don’t look surprised.”
“No, no, I’m too shocked to look surprised,” Dom answered, hoping the ladies wouldn’t be able to figure out his convoluted logic.
“Anyway, I digress. Once Tessa left them, we could tell neither man was happy with the outcome. Mr. Jankowski was particularly upset. He even raised his voice to Mr. Whatevermino.”
“You don’t say.”
“Yes,” Madge continued. “Barb told me afterwards they didn’t even leave her a tip. Can you imagine? Taking out their anger on the poor girl.”
Last time someone gave Tessa a hard time, Charley, the bartender had come to the rescue. He wondered if Charley had been aware of the interaction.
“You two don’t happen to know how much he offered Ms. Redman for the bar do you?” The higher the price, the more they wanted the place.
“Why yes. Two point four million dollars.”
Trace whistled. “And this woman, Tessa, turned them down?”
“Yup. Just like that,” Eleanor said, snapping her fingers with an impressive pop. “But then again, she’s not the owner. Judd, her half-brother, is.”
Madge checked her watch and nudged Eleanor. “We’ll be late if we don’t go now, dear. You know how angry Jacque gets when we come in after he’s already taught the first eight counts.”
“My yes. You’ll have to excuse us, boys. We have our weekly dance lesson to attend. It’s a great way to meet singles.” Eleanor winked.
They slid out of the booth. Eleanor then leaned over the table. �
��You never did answer my question last time, Mr. Rossi.”
“What question?”
“What do you do for a living?”
He debated whether to answer truthfully. They might be more forthcoming knowing he was a real detective. “I’m a homicide cop.”
Eleanor sprang back, turned to Madge, and held out her hand. Madge fished out a dollar bill and slapped it into Eleanor’s hand.
She turned back to Dom. “I knew it. I told her you were a hardcore detective, but she said you looked like a stockbroker. I won, I won.”
With that revelation, the two ladies disappeared out the door.
Chelsea plastered her back against the kitchen wall and closed her eyes. She’d never been this overwhelmed by a man in her life before. Trace was the most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen. His five o’clock shadow gave him that sexy Brad Pitt look. Even The Rock would be jealous of Trace’s physique. And his eyes. Oh, my. Chelsea placed a hand on her chest to keep her heart from busting through her chest. Deep Caribbean blue like the color of the water near St. Johns. The best part was there was no little tan line where a ring would be. He was single. Whoopee.
“You okay, Chelsea?” Mick asked.
She opened her eyes. Mick was dipping chicken strips into a gooey batter. “Yeah, sure. I just met the man of my dreams.”
“I hope he’s better than your last no good boyfriend.”
She held up her index finger to her lips. “Not so loud. Nobody but you knows about Randy.”
“Okay. What do you know about this new guy? He could be an abuser too.”
“No, I can tell he’s nice.”
Mick shook his head. “Aren’t they all at first?”
“I’m glad I’m not jaded like you. I may have had a string of bad partners, but I’ve learned my lesson.”
“You ask him out yet?”
She was tempted to lie, but decided he’d find out sooner than later. “Of course. When I see something I want, I go for it.”
Mick smiled. Despite the tattoos and gaunt face, Mick was cute in a strange kind of way. He stepped over to the sink and washed his hands. Then he sauntered over to her, looking a little bit guilty.
Roger ducked into the storage room, and then mumbled something about not being able to find the tomatoes.
