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

by Anita Rodgers

  I threw up my arms. “Stop talking to me like that, I’m not a child. And it’s not what you think. I just asked Daniels to check into a couple of things. It’s not even official, he’s doing it on his own time. I swear, that's all."

  He plopped on the sofa, crowding me. "And?"

  "And nothing." I looked into Ted's disbelieving eyes. "Okay, I saw Donna the other night. And she let me look in Ron's room, but all I found was a sketch pad of drawings." I frowned. "I haven't even looked at it yet, but I'm sure it's nothing."

  He cupped my face with his hands. “How does this add up to Beidemeyer making crank calls?”

  I pulled away from him. “I don’t know. He’s a creep. He got onto us somehow and accosted me at the farmer’s market last weekend.”

  “What?” He raked his hands through his hair. “What did he say to you?”

  I squirmed and tried to back up but there was nowhere to go. “Stupid stuff that didn’t make sense. Like I said, he knew we were following him and he wanted to know why. And if you ask me, that confirms he has something to do with this mess.”

  “And that’s all he did? Ask you why you were following him?”

  “He warned me to stay away from him.” Ted waited, knowing there was more. I flapped my hands. “And that I was attractive and he didn’t want to see that change or some shit.”

  “So he threatened you?”

  I shrugged. “If you can call that a threat.”

  Ted rubbed the back of his neck. “And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning to me?”

  "I told Daniels." Ted rolled his eyes. "Who thought it was an empty threat too." I stroked his arm. "Look, nothing happened. And I didn’t see the point in getting you worked up over nothing. The guy's a bully and a coward." I nodded toward the answering machine. "That's as scary as he gets. Leaving stupid messages."

  Ted took me by the shoulders and said, "And your gate opening at random? Did he do that too?"

  I shook my head. "No, that was some kind of weird electronic thing."

  "Are you sure about that? Are you sure he hasn’t been in your house, while you were gone? Because he seems to know Boomer."

  My insides turned to jelly. "Are you trying to scare me?"

  Ted's arms shot into the air. "Yes, I'm trying to scare you! Scotti you have a stalker. This isn’t some silly little game; this is serious shit. You have to report him to the police."

  "Why? He's not going to do anything. Joe didn't think it was a big deal either."

  Ted reared back his head. "Oh I get it. Since Daniels and Joe don’t think it’s anything, we should just forget about it? What if they’re wrong, and this guy comes after you? Then what?"

  I snapped at him. “That’s not going to happen.”

  He snorted. “So let me get this straight. You’re convinced he killed Ron, but he’s too much of a coward to come after you?” He smirked. “Why because you’re scarier than a trained army specialist?”

  I had no answer for that, but my whole body quivered.

  He nodded. “That’s right babe, let that one sink in.”

  “But…”

  "But nothing, first thing tomorrow, we’re going to the cops."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Even the allure of morning sex couldn't distract Ted from his mission. A cup of coffee and a personal escort to the Foothill Division station house was the first order of the day.

  The Sarge was off for the weekend, and a pleasant admin assistant greeted us. She tapped the keys of her keyboard, then told us it would be a few minutes.

  We sat in the ugly orange chairs and waited under fluorescent lights. Ted barely said a word to me and mostly ground his teeth. I patted down my hair and searched for a clip in my bag.

  I took Ted's hand and squeezed it. "How much longer are you going to be pissed off?"

  He gave me his eyes. "I'm not pissed off. I'm worried." He put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head. "You're not a lone agent anymore, Scotti. We're supposed to be a team. Whatever happens, we're in it together."

  "Then why didn't you support me in this?" I looked into his deep green eyes. "I wouldn't have kept anything from you, if you weren't so dead set against it."

  "You could've respected my wishes."

  "You could've respected mine." I blew out a sigh. "You know me, Ted. You knew I wouldn't leave this alone. And don't bother denying it. So what's with all the righteous indignation and surprise?"

  A petite redhead in her early thirties approached us. "Ms. Fitzgerald?"

  I looked up and nodded. "Yes?"

  The redhead put out her hand. "Detective Joyce Reznick."

  I shook her hand. Firm grip for such a slip of a woman.

  She took us through reception to a corridor that led to an open bullpen – cubicles clustered in fours throughout. The space sprawled left and right and hummed with a blend of hushed voices, ringing phones and muted emotion.

  Reznick ushered us to her desk, situated at a cubicle cluster toward the back of the room. She waved at the visitor chairs crammed in front of her desk and took a seat.

  Without hesitation, Reznick pulled up a report form on her computer and typed rapidly as I gave her the information.

  "Did you bring the tape from your answering machine?"

  "There is no tape. It's a digital recorder. Do you want the machine?"

  Reznick tapped a red fingernail against a key on her keyboard. "Were there any witnesses to the confrontation at the farmer's market?" I shook my head. "But you're sure that the voice on the messages was Mr. Beidemeyer? You recognized his voice?"

  I shrugged. "He was trying to disguise his voice, but who else could it be? Like I said, he threatened me. He knew we were following him. And made it clear that he knew who I was. How could it could be someone else?"

  Reznick frowned and nodded. She printed out the report and had me sign it. "Okay, we'll look into it."

  "That's it?"

  Reznick shrugged. "You can press assault charges for the confrontation. But without witness corroboration, I doubt the D.A. will prosecute. And the messages can't be authenticated, unless you have a certified recording of his voice to compare it to."

  I glared at Ted. "So this was just a big waste of time?"

  "I'll have a talk with Mr. Beidemeyer. Perhaps that will discourage him from harassing you further." She studied me with determined brown eyes. “You should consider filing for a restraining order too.”

  I pushed back my chair and stood. "So, you'll go tell Beidemeyer that he freaked me out? That way he'll know that he's being effective? But you aren't going to arrest him or do anything?"

  Reznick shrugged. "Like I said, you can talk to the D.A. and file for a restraining order – that’s your right. But given the evidence..."

  I grabbed the report from Reznick's desk and tore it up. "I'll tell you what, let's just forget the report. If he shows up at my house with a gun, I'll be sure to call you." I spun on my heels and walked out.

  <<>>

  While I worked out my frustrations in the kitchen, Ted sprawled on the sofa watching the game. My reaction to Reznick’s feeble response only solidified Ted’s decision to remain at my house for the duration. Until Beidemeyer was caught or stopped — by the police or Ted himself — I had a new room mate whether I liked it or not. So now I had three watch dogs — Boomer, Daisy and Ted.

  I concentrated on the anniversary cake to keep my head from exploding. Beating together sugar, butter and cream was the safest way for me to vent and it produced some awesome frosting. And it calmed me. And I forgot about Beidemeyer and Ron and everything but the cake.

  I packed the cake tiers in separate plastic containers then put together a kit of frosting, the frosting orchids, flourishes and tools. Then I packed everything into a wheeled case Zelda made for me years ago. When we were ready to go, the case would be packed into Ted's car, and surrounded by padding. And I'd assemble and decorate the cake at Melinda's house.

  Feeling centered again, I pu
lled off my apron, and wandered out to the front room. Ted slept on the sofa snoring softly with Boomer curled at his feet. I tiptoed past them and ducked into the bedroom.

  After locking the bedroom door I pulled out my phone and Mike's phone number from my bag then placed the call. It went straight to voicemail — I left a message and hung up.

  Without anything to distract me, my thoughts returned to Ron, and I pulled the sketch pad from under my mattress. Ted’s ranting about Beidemeyer had me worried about a break-in. None of my hiding places seemed adequate anymore and I wasn’t about to lose what little evidence I had.

  Ted still slept on the sofa as I tiptoed past him, but I paused at the door. If he awoke to find me gone, he'd jump to conclusions. I left him a note on the coffee table saying I had a quick errand to run. Boomer raised his head and whimpered when I opened the door. "You take care of Ted," I whispered and quietly closed the door behind me.

  After I started the car, I idled for a couple of minutes to see if Ted would bound out of the house. Then I slipped through the gate and headed down the hill to Franky’s.

  Ten minutes later, I pulled into Franky’s parking lot and scanned for a tail as I approached the building. There were a few people in the lot, but all were just going about their business with no interest in me. I laughed at my own paranoia and went inside.

  Franky greeted me with a gold-toothed smile when I walked in. "Scotti, my friend!"

  I hurried to the counter and shook Franky's hand. "How are you Franky?"

  He tugged his suit jacket and smoothed his tie. "Very well. What can Franky do for you today?"

  I put the sketch pad on the counter and said, “I need this copied and also can you hang onto it for a while?”

  He picked up the sketch pad. "Sure, sure." He flipped through its pages. "Very nice. You make a surprise for the artist?"

  I smiled. "Sure. Right you are." I lowered my voice. "How long can you hold onto it for me?"

  Franky shrugged. "As long as you like."

  "And you can keep it somewhere locked away? Where no one can get to it?"

  Franky's face darkened with concern. "Is this some trouble, Scotti?"

  I patted his hand. "I'll call you in a few days?"

  Franky tapped the book twice with his knuckles. "Any time."

  Slowly walking back to the car, I scanned the lot again. In the light of day it seemed stupid being so cautious. Despite Ted’s ranting about Beidemeyer, I just didn’t believe he’d come after me. It’s true that Ron was a trained soldier and once knew how to kill men, but the state he was in when he died was a far cry from the soldier he once was. Beidemeyer was a creep, but I believed his courage only extended to anonymous phone calls and bluster. Ted hadn’t seen Marika rattle Beidemeyer into a trembling whimpering puppy — but I had, and the guy was definitely a wimp.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a man staring at me and turned toward him. Nice looking lifeguard type. Not a threat, just a come-on. I smiled and pointed to the ring finger of my left hand. He got the message, smiled and turned away.

  Blowing out a sigh, I laughed at myself for being such a paranoid idiot. Then a hand squeezed my shoulder. Screaming, I spun around on my heel with my leg aimed to kick. Ted stumbled back against a parked car. "Easy recruit."

  I dropped my leg. "That sneaking up on people thing is going to be bad for the family jewels one of these days."

  He pushed off the car and hooked his arm through mine. "What are you doing here?"

  I walked toward my car, looking straight ahead. "Didn't you get my note?"

  He halted and brought me to a wobbly stop. "What errands?"

  I rolled my eyes and hooked my head toward Franky’s. "I had to re-order business cards and flyers for my business."

  He gave me a skeptical look. “You couldn’t just call it in?"

  I blew out a sigh. “No, I had changes and a new design.” I threw up my hands. “Do I have to run everything by you for approval now?”

  Ted held up his hands. “Okay, sorry. This is me backing off now.” He pulled me into a bear hug. “Okay? Can we play nice now?”

  I looked up at him. “You were sound asleep when I left. What’d you do — put a another tracker on my car while I was sleeping last night?"

  Ted chuckled and tweaked my nose. "Baby, don't you know I have a built-in tracker when it comes to you?"

  I pinched his butt and pulled away from him. "We better get back to the house. Your mother will kill us if we're late to the party."

  Ted bent his head and whispered in my ear. "If we hurry, we can have a private party first."

  I hurried ahead of him to the car. "In your dreams, big guy."

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Not to toot my own horn but the cake was a knockout. Five tiers iced in pale yellow butter cream frosting, lavender borders, and orchids and topped with the edible wedding photo. I snapped several pictures with my phone, so I could post them on our website later. If Zelda moved to Nebraska, I could phase out the food truck and specialize in wedding cakes. At least it was something I could do on my own, if I found myself without a partner.

  Melinda stood in the kitchen doorway. "Unbelievable."

  I looked up nervously. "Unbelievably good or unbelievably bad?"

  Melinda glided across the room. She studied the cake from all angles — taking in every detail. "Scotti, you're a true artist." She smiled at me like she meant it and I blushed hot pink. "It's a shame that we're going to eat it."

  I checked the time and pulled off my apron. "I better change before they get here. Can I count on you to protect the cake until I get back?"

  Melinda nodded. "I'll defend it with my life."

  Walking out of the kitchen, I wondered whether Melinda and I had turned a corner. Was it possible she was starting to like me? Anything was possible.

  Guests were already milling at the front door so I ducked up the back stairs to the guest room. Someone had hung up my dress and put out my makeup bag and shoes. Curious, I thought.

  After I wriggled into my lavender sheath, I frowned at my reflection in the mirror. I tugged at the hem and smoothed down the front but it didn’t help. "I knew I shouldn’t have taken this to a bargain dry cleaners." But it was either the too-tight dress or my sweats. Since nobody but Ted would pay attention to me, I wasn’t going to worry about it. A quick face paint, a pair of crystal earrings, and a brush through my hair then I headed downstairs.

  When I returned to the kitchen, Melinda was gone, but the cake was still intact. That turning the corner thing went back into the uncertain column.

  Apron back on, I walked around the cake, checking for flaws. "Okay, deep breath, Scotti. Just get it to the dining room without dumping it on the floor."

  Matt walked in and stopped at the sight of the cake. "Dude."

  I smiled and nodded. "Ain't she a thing of beauty?"

  He stepped closer and stared at the cake. "That’s like art or something man."

  "Thanks. A little help?"

  Matt and I wheeled the cart to the dining room and together lifted it to the table. I let out a breath. Sitting front and center on the table with the afternoon sun streaming through the window, the cake sparkled like it was alive. I gazed at my creation lovingly, like a mother seeing her kid off to her first day of school. "All we need now are the guests of honor."

  Matt left to find Tom and Ginny. I hung back to take a few more pictures. It was the best cake presentation I'd ever done and for damn sure potential customers would see it.

  Murmurs rose from the great room across the hall. I pulled off my apron and tossed it on a chair. Another deep breath, a tug of the dress and I was ready to face the Jordan clan.

  As I crossed the foyer two party-dressed little girls shot out of the room, straight for the dining room and my beautiful cake. Little girls and fancy cakes spelled disaster. I caught one in each arm. "Whoa, where are you ladies going in such a hurry?"

  Two pairs of curious blue eyes looked up at me. No d
oubt about it, they were Katy and Chelsea — Tom's daughters. Both blond beauties, one about six and the other about four.

  Katy, the older girl said, "We want cake." Her big round eyes looked past me toward the dining room. “It’s in there.”

  I bent down. "Well, you can have cake. But your mommy and daddy need to see it first."

  Chelsea, the little one, made pouty lips. "Why?"

  I smiled at her. "Because it's a special cake I made just for them. You know, like when it's your birthday and you get to blow out the candles and cut the first piece? It's their anniversary cake so they get first dibs. That's fair, right?"