M.urder R.eady to E.at (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 2)

by Anita Rodgers

  I pulled over in front of a high school — deserted at that hour of the night — and jammed the car in park. "You could've mentioned that earlier."

  She smacked the back of my head. "So, my screaming your name at the top of my lungs didn't register?"

  I shook out my hands and arms to disperse the adrenaline. "Put on your seatbelt." Then I pulled back onto the street and drove like a normal, law-abiding citizen. "Crap, my heart is still pounding."

  We caught up with Beidemeyer on Glenoaks and once again followed him to Sunland Park. This time, however, Beidemeyer didn't stop. He made three slow revolutions around the park, and when he didn't find what he was looking for, he turned toward home. And once there, stayed put.

  Chapter Eight

  Around midnight, we dropped off Joe's car and picked up mine without going inside. The office was dark, and clearly Joe was catching his beauty sleep.

  Fine by me. I wasn't in the mood for debriefing and had a full day of baking ahead of me the next day. We may have been part time detectives but we were full time pie ladies. Sunday mornings and afternoons we did all the baking for the week. And on that Sunday, Ted's family dinner was slated too — my dance card was full and I had two left feet.

  We dumped the camera, bags, and gear on the sofa. Then sat at the butcher-block eating the leftover sandwiches. "What a night," I said, pulling a pitcher of lemonade out of the fridge. "Can you believe that woman ran after us?"

  Zelda grabbed glasses and we downed half the pitcher in ten minutes. I belched and looked at her. "Still think this is boring?"

  Zelda smirked at me, then slid off her stool. "Time for this little chicken to go beddy bye." She waved and gave me a funny little grin before she left the room. "Sweet dreams."

  I rinsed the glasses, emptied the trash, then turned off the lights. On my way to bed I tripped over a pair of size thirteen sneakers. That explained Zelda's grin.

  When I opened my bedroom door, I found a sprawling, naked Ted asleep on my bed. Boomer nuzzled in the crook of his arm and a candle flickered on the bedside table. I extracted Boomer from the bed, set him down in the hall, and closed the door. Then I peeled off my clothes and snuggled next to Ted. He stirred and turned over on his side. His eyes opened sleepily. "Hi baby."

  I snuggled into his arms. “Hi honey.”

  Ted murmured and buried his face in my chest. I combed my fingers through his hair and he fell back to sleep — his breathing slow and even. Then I followed him into the land of dreams, knowing no crazy woman could hurt me for the next few hours.

  <<>>

  "Damn, I think I messed up the crust," Ted said, his back to me.

  I didn't dare look because if it wasn't perfect, I'd have a fit. Ted offered to help with the pies because the family dinner cut my baking time short. He really tried, but his help was slowing things down instead of speeding them up. If you need a ride, directions, or a great wing man, Ted is your guy. If you need help in the kitchen, not so much. I sighed and bit my lip. "Don't worry about it, hon. The filling will cover it."

  Zelda's eyes popped wide because if it had been her, she'd be begging for her life about then. I silenced her with a look.

  "Just roll out the bottom crusts and I'll do the tops."

  Ted stopped, shook off the flour from his hands, and turned to me. "No honey, this is bad. And when I say bad I mean condition fubar."

  I froze the smile on my face, the one that shows every tooth in my head and said, "It's okay honey. Zelda?"

  Zee nudged Ted over, pulled all the crusts he had rolled and made a big ball of dough with them — then started over. "You handle the dishes big guy, I'll do this."

  I never saw a man so happy to wash the dishes. "Thanks Zee."

  Despite the set backs, we finished the baking with an hour to spare. Just long enough to get the flour and sugar out of my hair. Ted cleaned the kitchen, then left, saying he’d see me at his mother's.

  Zelda took ten minutes to get ready, then came into my bedroom to see what was taking me so long. I'd never met a boyfriend's mother before, much less his whole family, and I was nervous as a virgin bride. Nothing looked right — too demure, too slutty, too casual, too stuffy, too something.

  Zelda tapped her foot and rolled her eyes as I changed from one outfit to the next. "Would you just put something on?"

  I frowned at my reflection. "That's everything in my closet. I'm out of clothes and ideas."

  Zelda flapped her hands at me. "You better get one quick because we're late and your bra and panties ain't going to cut it." She eyed the clothes piled on my bed. She poked at it, like a swarm of hornets lie in wait for her then pulled a blue jersey sheath out of the pile and tossed it to me. "Put this on."

  I jumped back and let the dress fall to the floor. "I can't. That's the sex dress." Zelda's eyebrows formed a vee. "The dress I wore the first night Ted and I…"

  Zelda threw up her hands. "Oh brother. His mother doesn’t know that."

  Heat rose in my cheeks. "No, but Ted does."

  Zelda seemed to understand and fished a simple black sheath out of the pile. "Little black dress, perfect. Put it on, and don't give me any shit about it."

  I dressed quickly and hopped on one foot putting on my shoes as she rushed me out of the house. "Quit pushing."

  "Quit stalling."

  "The pies, we forgot the pies."

  "In the car."

  <<>>

  Melinda Jordan lived in the fancy section of Kenneth Road in Glendale. Her home reminded me of a plantation house — two stories, columns, red brick, rolling lawn and a circular drive. I fully expected a valet to come out and offer to park the car.

  In the drive were Ted's Escalade, a gray BMW sedan, a red Prius, a blue Road Ranger, a silver Mercedes SUV, a green Honda SUV, and a landscaping truck. Yet there was still room to spare for the jeep.

  Zelda idled at the mouth of the drive.

  I looked at the drive and then to Zelda. "Problem?"

  She pointed to the driveway. "Do you see the cars in the drive?"

  Still confused by her hesitation, I said, "There's plenty of room,"

  Zelda glared at me. "So, should I just pull my piece of shit right up behind the BMW? Or the Mercedes?"

  I waved my hands at the driveway. "We don't have time for car envy. Just park this thing and let's do this before I change my mind."

  Zelda grumbled and eased in behind the BMW, careful to leave plenty of room between the bumpers. I was unbuckled and out the door before she turned off the engine.

  Despite my frantic, waving arms, Zelda took her time in getting to the porch. "You didn't tell him, did you?" I looked away. "Damn it, Scotti."

  I rang the bell. Before the chimes stopped the door opened and we faced Ted's mother, Melinda Jordan. Ted’s good looks came from her — tall, gleaming black hair, long limbs, piercing green eyes and symmetrical features. Melinda smiled like she was ready for her Vogue Magazine photo shoot. "At last, our guest of honor."

  I blushed. "Sorry we're late," I put out my hand. "I'm Scotti."

  Melinda took my hand and squeezed it rather than shook it. Her eyes wandered to Zelda. "And this is?"

  I slung my arm around Zelda. "This is my sister Zelda."

  Zelda gave her a brief nod. "Nice to meet you."

  Melinda held open the door and stepped aside. "Please, come in."

  Like Melinda, the house was lovely, modern, and impressive. If I'd ever gone to prom, this was the reception hall we'd have chosen for the after party.

  As she led us across the marble-floored foyer, quickly and fluidly, Melinda said, "The boys are in the dining room."

  Zelda and I dawdled behind her, the way we used to when being given the grand tour through a new foster facility.

  "Ted, your young lady is here." Her announcement perfectly timed for our arrival into the dining room. Suited for large gatherings, the dining room had a clean design, with unfussy Danish furniture, simple lighting, and a bank of French doors that looked out to lav
ender hydrangea bushes and willowy birches.

  Six pairs of eyes looked up from their plates — like a little platoon of soldiers all spit-polished and shiny. Ted's smile froze when he saw I'd brought back-up. I sketched a wave. "Hi, I'm Scotti and this is my sister Zelda."

  Ted pushed back his chair and stepped to the doorway where we stood. He put his arm around my shoulders and kissed me on the cheek. Then like the gentleman he was, started introductions around the table, in order of age.

  Steve, brother number one was shorter and beefier than Ted, had similar coloring but brown eyes, wavy hair, and a crooked smile. I figured him for the blue Road Ranger. He was also Ted's partner in the limo company, who strangely I'd never met, after six months of dating Ted.

  Tom, brother number two could've been Steve's twin, but he lacked the warmth and crooked smile. The only one wearing a wedding band, I figured him for the Mercedes SUV.

  Dave, brother number three, was tall like Ted but blonde and skinny. He buzzed with the type of nervous energy that young children have in restrained situations. His deep tan and rough hands made him the obvious owner of the landscaping truck.

  Brett, brother number four had straight sandy brown hair with eyes to match. Shorter than his siblings but wiry and muscled. His gaze fixed on me as though he wanted to commit my face to memory.

  And Matt, brother number five and the baby of the family. His blonde wavy hair and ruddy tan gave him a surfer look. He shared his bright green eyes with Ted and Melinda and his grin with brother Steve. His tee shirt proclaimed his concern for the planet, and the red Prius obviously belonged to him.

  During the introductions, Melinda slipped into her chair at the head of the table — and she settled in like a proud mother hen surrounded by her handsome roosters. Quite the family portrait.

  Ted led me and Zelda to the table and seated us on either side of him. Under the table, he squeezed my knee. I wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure me or ask me why I'd brought Zelda along, but I smiled and leaned into him a little.

  The dinner menu was poached salmon, grilled vegetables and a perfect risotto. At least Melinda and I had a love of food in common. And I was surprised that Melinda served the meal herself and delighted in the compliments to the chef.

  Conversation was polite. Ted's brothers were more curious than judgmental. I knew that Steve worked with Ted in the limo business and learned that Tom was in marketing, Dave had a landscaping business, Brett had just graduated the police academy, and Matt was in his junior year of college.

  Tom grilled me about how I advertised our pie business and offered to look over my marketing plan — if I wanted any suggestions, of course. Dave offered a few great tips on perennials and a secret soil amendment formula for tomatoes.

  Brett frowned and stroked his chin. "I thought you worked for a P.I."

  "I do. We do."

  "We do both," Zelda piped in. "Variety is the spice of life, right?"

  Matt nodded and grinned. "Dude that is so cool. Do you use the food truck as a cover, like when you're tailing people?"

  "It's not quite like that," I smiled and looked to Ted for support.

  Ted held up his hands. "Easy guys, this isn't an interrogation, right?"

  Polite laughter.

  Ted pointed at me and smiled at his mother. "Scotti brought desert, didn't you honey?"

  Zelda pushed back her chair as though on cue. "It's still in the jeep, I'll go get it." And she was through the door before I could stop her.

  Melinda made motions to clear dishes, but Ted put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh no, you did all the heavy lifting. We'll clear, won't we Scotti?"

  I was more than happy to clear. Anything to get out of that fishbowl. "Sure."

  Melinda protested but was easy to convince. Ted and I cleared the table and carried the dishes into the kitchen.

  The kitchen had the same look and feel of the rest of the house — clean, unfettered, and perfectly appointed. I was leery of dropping a crumb or smudging a surface lest I destroy its perfection. "This place is like something out of a magazine." I looked at Ted. "You grew up here?"

  Ted set the dishes on the counter and shook his head. "No." He chuckled. "Not exactly Army issue."

  I looked around and nodded. "Right, you grew up on military bases."

  Ted turned on the faucet and started scraping plates in the sink. "Yeah, I did. This house has been in my mother's family for a long time. When my dad died, she moved back here." He looked around and frowned. "Not really my style but she loves it."

  No it wasn't his style. Ted had an old craftsman house that was the opposite of Melinda’s house.

  His eyes darted to the kitchen door then he curled a finger at me. "Could you come over here honey?"

  I walked slowly across the kitchen to Ted. "You don’t have to say it. I know you're mad about Zelda. And I understand, but I just couldn’t handle this by myself."

  Ted rinsed the dishes under the running water and stacked them on the counter. "It was supposed to just be family."

  I opened the dishwasher and started racking the plates. "But Ted, Zelda is my family." I tugged on his sleeve so he'd look at me. "I didn't like the odds. Can you blame me?"

  Ted grunted then chuckled. "I guess that many Jordans in one room could be intimidating."

  I nudged him with my hip. "Could be? You’re like your own private army." I racked the cups and glasses in the dishwasher. "Besides, I think Steve is happy Zelda came. Did you see him giving her the eye?"

  Ted pulled me into his arms and kissed my neck. "We Jordan boys have a weakness for beautiful women."

  I slipped my hands around his waist and looked up at him. "Is that a fact?"

  He kissed the top of my head. "Yup." Then he let me go and went back to the dishes.

  I pressed up against him. "Tell me something, are all the Jordan boys a bunch of horn-dogs or just you and Steve?"

  Ted ducked away from me and blushed. "Scotti, my mother is in the other room. Take it easy."

  I backed him against the counter and grabbed his butt. "Oh, so Captain America is afraid of his mommy?"

  He took me by the wrists and held me at arm’s length. "You behave. It's not like that."

  Playfully I struggled with him and tried to get my hands free. "Are you afraid she'll spank you if she catches you and your girlfriend groping in the kitchen?"

  Ted kept his serious face on and looked down at me. "The idea here is to make a good impression. Is that asking too much?"

  I stopped struggling and shrugged. "Okay, I'll behave."

  He bear-hugged me then let me go. "Thank you."

  I grabbed the sponge and wiped down the counter. "But it won't do any good."

  He took the sponge out of my hand. "What won't do any good?"

  I looked up at him and shrugged. "Trying to make a good impression on your mother." Ted made a face at me. I waved my hands. "Sure make faces all you want but she disapproves of me." I pulled a paper towel off the roll and dried my hands. "I'm not taking it personally because she'd disapprove of any woman in your life." I hip-bumped him. "You're her precious first-born after all."

  Ted shook his head. "She's just reserved. Hard to read sometimes." He smiled and cupped my chin. "How could anybody disapprove of you? You're an angel."

  Steve bounded into the kitchen carrying more dirty dishes. He looked around as though lost. "Where do you want these?"

  I patted the counter. "Here is fine."

  Steve brought the dishes to the counter and set them down. He leaned against the counter and smiled at us but didn't say anything.

  Ted cocked his head. "Something we can for you, bro?"

  Steve cleared his throat then gently touched my arm and said, "So I was wondering Scotti, what's the story with your sister, Zelda?"

  I winked at Ted then turned back to Steve. "We've been friends since we were kids. We have a business together, and we're room mates."

  Steve nodded and murmured a, "Yeah, yeah." Then a little cloud
skittered across his kind face. "Friends? Aren't you sisters?"

  I nodded. "Foster sisters. We grew up together." I cocked my head. "Are you wondering if she's available? Maybe find her a little intriguing? Attractive?"

  Steve's crooked grin reappeared. "Well, ah…"

  Then Zelda swung through the kitchen door carrying the pies. "Thanks for ditching me and hiding out in here." She cast a wary look toward the door. "That crowd is brutal." She flicked a look at Steve. "Hey."