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

by Anita Rodgers

  I shrugged. "My bag was woefully lacking in clothes. But I'm good for underwear." I served the paella in great mounds on our plates. On the first bite, the explosion of flavor made my taste buds sing. "Who made this?"

  Ted pouted. "What makes you think I didn't make it?"

  I laughed. "Honey, even I can't even make a decent paella." I nodded. "Ah, Melinda." I toasted the air with my fork. "My compliments to the chef."

  Ted chuckled. "I'll pass that along."

  The paella was so good that I had a second helping. Shrimp, chicken, pork, vegetables, and a rich vibrant sauce — it was too good to eat just one serving. When my plate was clean, I pushed it away and said, "What's for desert?"

  Ted ducked into the kitchen and a few seconds later came back with two perfect flans in crystal dessert cups. Rich, sweet, velvety, and perfect. "Is Spanish cooking one of Melinda's specialties?"

  Ted nodded and grinned. "You could say that — my grandmother was from Barcelona."

  I batted my eyelashes at him. "Ah." I laughed. "Explains a lot." I stroked his arm. "My big Latin lover."

  He took my hand and held it to his face. "It's not my Latin blood baby." His eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "It's all you."

  I laughed. "Is that a fact?"

  He nodded. "You light me up — like nobody else." He pushed back his chair and pulled me to my feet. "I love you, Scotti Fitzgerald."

  "I love you, Ted Jordan."

  Softly, he pressed his lips to mine then touched my hair like it was made of gold. "Let's clear the dishes."

  The spell was broken, and I raised my eyebrows. "You romantic devil, you."

  We cleared the table and brought everything into the kitchen. Ted racked the dishes in the dishwasher, while I packed the leftovers and wiped down the counters. I washed my hands at the sink, and Ted slipped his arms around my waist. "What do you think of my kitchen?"

  I giggled. "Oh stop, you're driving me crazy with all this love talk." I turned off the water and dried my hands. "You know what the "k" word does to me."

  "I'm serious."

  I turned to look at him — he wasn’t kidding. Leaning against him I looked around the kitchen then shrugged. "It's fine for a man who doesn't cook."

  He pointed to the other side of the kitchen. "I was thinking about bumping it out and getting new appliances. A bigger stove, fridge, more counter space and a butcher-block like you have in your kitchen." He tilted his head. "What do you think about that?"

  I creased a brow. "Sounds great, but you don't cook."

  He laughed and tweaked my nose. "But you do."

  I studied him, trying to decide if he was teasing or seriously considering renovating his kitchen for me. Turning a critical eye to the kitchen I said, "It is pretty small, considering the size of the house. But you'd have to knock down a couple of walls if you wanted to accommodate good appliances, a center island and more counter space."

  Ted pointed to the door that led to a small pantry. "Maybe a kitchen office with shelves for cookbooks, a laptop, and a desk?" He nodded and pointed. "If we tore out those cabinets and pushed the wall back a few feet, we could make room for that." Then he pointed to the laundry room. "We could borrow a few feet from the laundry room and install a door to the ground floor bathroom too."

  I grinned at him. "You're serious?"

  He tweaked my nose. "Damn straight I am."

  I pulled his arms tighter around me and imagined a beautiful new kitchen. "Could we paint the walls yellow? Not gold but like the color of fresh butter?"

  He nuzzled my neck. "Any flavor you like."

  I slid my arms around his neck. "I know what you're doing."

  He bent down and kissed me. "What am I doing?"

  "Trying to seduce me with a new kitchen."

  "Is it working?"

  "Take me to bed."

  <<>>

  The sound of splashing water woke me. Sunlight streamed through the open windows and shimmered the room. I raised my head and looked toward the bathroom. "Ted?" The splashing came again but not from the bathroom. "Where are you?" Throwing back the covers, I rolled out of bed and padded to the window. Ted was enjoying naked swimming day in the backyard pool — happy as a baby seal on his first solo swim.

  Turning back to the room, I scanned for my robe but came up empty. Rather than search through the house naked I went to Ted’s dresser for a tee-shirt. I grabbed the first one I saw and pulled it on. When I turned to close the drawer, there it was — a little blue velvet jewelry box. And my hand went to my chest as though it could stop the pounding with a touch. I wiped my sweaty palms on the shirt and picked up the box. Ted splashed in the pool outside, and my eyes darted to the window.

  He'd never know if I just took a peek. I looked toward the window again. "Okay Scotti, do it now or put the damn thing away." I opened the box. "For the love of God!" A beautiful antique ring shimmered back at me. A single diamond set on a high-shoulder gold band. It called to me and sparkled as though it were alive. If I looked at it any longer, I’d have to put it on my hand. If I put it on my hand I’d have a thousand years of bad luck.

  I snapped the box shut and buried it under another tee-shirt, then closed the drawer. "Oh my God." I backed away from the dresser until the bed stopped me and I tumbled back on it. All of Zelda's jokes and speculation were real. Ted was going to ask me. He was going to pop the question. This was serious.

  My so-called vacation had nothing to do with my whining. They’d all set me up, and I fell for it. When had Zelda and Ted picked out the ring? Was the whole Henry story a fake-out so I wouldn't guess what they were up to? I wouldn’t put that sort of deception past Zee, but couldn’t believe she’d hurt Eric just to trick me. Unless he was in on it too. I couldn’t even call Zelda to bust her on it because Ted had locked our phones in the safe.

  I felt desperate to talk to someone about it but at the same time regretted knowing. Much as I loved secrets, this was one I didn't want to know. I felt like I ruined something. For Ted. For me. I shuddered and tried to put it out of my mind. If I let myself think about it I’d drive myself crazy wondering when he’d ask, what I’d say. I threw up my hands. "Enough!" I tugged down my overgrown tee-shirt and went downstairs.

  As I walked through the dining room, Ted was still outside, splashing in the pool. I shook my arms to throw off the jitters and stepped outside. "Hi honey."

  Ted was working on his backstroke and displaying his nakedness to the world at large. He caught sight of me and smiled. When he finished his lap he paused at the far edge of the pool. "Morning beautiful. How'd you sleep?"

  I edged toward the pool. "Good. It must be naked swimming day."

  He grinned. "Everyday is naked swimming day." Ted had ten-foot cedar fencing around the yard and lots of privacy — he could barbecue naked if he wanted.

  "Want some breakfast?"

  Ted swam to my side of the pool and grabbed the edge with one hand and reached out to me with the other. "Come on in, the water's fine."

  I stepped back. "No, thanks." I frowned at the oversized bathtub. "I don't swim. Never learned."

  He pulled himself up and leaned his elbows on the deck. He wiggled his fingers. "Oh come on. I'll teach you."

  I don't trust swimming pools — they're scary places where bullies hold you down to see how long you can survive without air. I shook my head. "Not today honey."

  Ted pretended to pout. "At least come give me a kiss."

  I took one wary step forward. "You promise you won't dunk me?"

  He crossed his heart and held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

  I stepped to the edge of the pool and bent down. Ted grabbed my hand and pulled me into the pool. I panicked, flailing my arms and legs in search of the surface. Ted pulled me up and into his arms. Eyes stinging from the chlorine, I choked out water. "You promised!"

  He kissed me. "No I didn't."

  I smacked him. "Yes you did, you said Scout's honor."

  He laughed. "I’ve told you a million
times baby, I’m no Boy Scout."

  After thirty minutes of trying to teach me how to tread water and my dropping like a stone every time, Ted gave up and we got out of the pool.

  Then a little quid pro quo — he forced swimming lessons on me, I insisted on cooking lessons for him. He only destroyed two pots and a plastic spatula. Not too bad for a first lesson. And he learned another valuable lesson — there’s no such thing as naked cooking day.

  The next few days passed quickly. Despite my suspicions, Ted had planned a real vacation. We went to the beach and shopped the boardwalk. We drove up to Ventura and went antiquing. We went to the zoo and bought balloons and ate cotton candy. We entered a Salsa Dancing contest and lost. We even hopped on a bus tour that took us to every Hollywood landmark imaginable. From the Hollywood sign to Chinatown. Striking up conversations with tourists from Japan, England and one fellow who claimed to be a Romanian prince.

  On Saturday, we took in a Dodger game, and Ted almost caught a foul ball. That would've shown his lame-ass brothers who the losers really were. Too bad the eight-year-old in front of us had a mitt and a faster arm. But the Dodger-Dogs tasted great, and I scored a new Dodger jersey to add to my woefully sparse vacation wardrobe.

  Sunday morning, we ate breakfast in bed and watched a Hitchcock movie marathon on cable. But by noon, showers and moving became necessary. As I got dressed, I tried not to stare at Ted's dresser, but my eyes had a will of their own and traveled there whenever I was in the room.

  "You got a beef with my dresser?"

  I looked away and pulled a tee-shirt over my head. "Nope. It’s a very nice dresser." Plenty of opportunities had come and gone for him to pop the question. And yet he hadn’t.

  Ted slid his arms around my waist. Nuzzling my neck he said, "What about dinner at the Castaway tonight? Sound good?"

  I smiled, the venue had revealed itself. I nodded. "Sounds great."

  Then a phone rang, and we both jumped. Ted had unplugged the landline and had locked our cells in his desk drawer. So what was ringing?

  Confused, I looked at Ted. "I thought this was a phone-free week."

  Ted headed for the door. "Damn. The emergency line." He left the room — footsteps heavy as he rushed down the stairs.

  I stared after him. "Emergency line?" Of course, if there were an emergency with family or at work, he’d have to be reachable. I sighed and packed my bag, then I went downstairs.

  When I walked into Ted's office he was on the phone. Serious and frowning, he stood at his desk and listened. "You've gotta be kidding." He listened. "Uh-huh." He blew out a breath. "Okay, on my way." He hung up the phone and stared at it, lips pressed tight. "Damn it."

  I touched his arm. "What happened?"

  He heaved a sigh and cursed under his breath. "I have to go to work."

  I wasn't surprised but I was disappointed. "Why?"

  He looked as disappointed as I felt. "There's been an accident, and three of our cars are involved." He stroked my arm. "Sorry babe, I don't want to ruin our vacation, but I have to go."

  I reared back. "Is anyone hurt?"

  He shook his head. "Steve broke his leg." He held up a hand. "It doesn't sound too bad. But it's a big mess. Steve was one of the drivers because we were short and now dispatch is unmanned because…"

  I sighed. "It's okay, I get it. Shit happens, right?" I slid my arms around his neck and kissed him. "Should I wait up for you? Will you be gone all night?"

  Ted frowned and shook his head. "I won't know until I get to the office and talk to the crew." He rubbed his stubbled cheek. "Steve's on his way to the hospital."

  I took his hand. "Hospital? That doesn't sound not serious. You’re worried about Steve, aren’t you?"

  He grunted and said no, which really meant yes. I knew he wanted to go to the hospital, but losing three vehicles meant he'd have to juggle the schedule, crew and drivers and he'd have to do that from the shop. There wouldn't be time to check on Steve. And even less of a chance that I'd see him before morning.

  He opened his drawer and handed me my phone. "I guess we can turn these on again." He slipped his phone into his pocket. "It's probably best if I take you home."

  I nodded and pointed to my packed bag. "Yeah, probably."

  And that was the end of my vacation.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  We idled outside my gate. "I'll make this up to you. I promise."

  I gave him a quick peck on the lips. "I understand. I want to check on Steve —he's at Verdugo, right?"

  Ted nodded. "Yeah. Text me when you know what's what, okay?"

  I kissed him one more time, climbed out of the car and blew him a kiss as he headed down the hill.

  I was disappointed to see Zelda's jeep was gone. Although that meant I wouldn’t have to explain why I didn't have an engagement ring on my finger.

  The communal gate rattled, and Marge followed by Boomer, headed my way. She grinned and waved. "Hi stranger." Her gaze drifted toward my hand, and her brow furrowed. "Back so soon?"

  I nodded. "Ted had a big emergency at work."

  Boomer yapped and wagged his stub. I scooped him up so he could welcome me with doggie slurps. "Want some coffee?"

  Marge shook her head. "No thanks, Irv and I are going to a movie. You're welcome to join us."

  I sighed. "Another time. I have to leave again soon. Any idea where Zelda went?"

  "They went to Disneyland."

  I laughed. "Zelda at Disneyland, that's a first. And when you say they you mean?"

  “She and Eric of course, who else?”

  I wanted to grill Marge for details about Henry and Zelda and if she knew how Eric got back in the picture, but I felt the pull of family. Once I knew Steve was okay and reported back to Ted, I could worry about Zelda’s love life. Or better yet, my own. I shook my head. "Nobody, that’s what I figured." I looked toward the house. "Thanks for keeping an eye on Booms."

  "Want me to take Boomer back to my yard?"

  "No, he’ll be fine here. I won’t be gone that long."

  "Okay then, see you later." She went back through the gate to her yard.

  Boomer and I went inside to survey the damage, but the house was intact and maybe even a little cleaner than the last time I saw it. I was also thankful that I didn't find anyone's underwear slung over light fixtures or littering the floor.

  I fed Boomer, threw on fresh jeans and a tee-shirt then headed out again. Twenty minutes later I was parking my car in the hospital parking lot.

  However, once I got inside and tried to find Steve's room, time stood still. At first, no one knew where he was, and I thought I had the wrong hospital. Then a surly nurse insisted that only family could be given that information and wanted to see my identification. Sighing, I pulled out my phone to call Ted.

  "Scotti?"

  I turned, and Matt stood behind me, with open arms.

  I gave him a quick hug. "How's Steve?"

  Matt led me to the elevator and punched the call button. "Okay. Busted his leg, but he'll live." We got off on the second floor and walked toward Steve's room, where Jordans clustered outside. "The gang’s all here, eh?"

  Melinda's eyes lit up when she saw me. "Scotti."

  When we hugged, I felt the tension in her body. "How's your second-born?"

  Melinda rolled her eyes. "You better hope you never have sons — they'll make you gray before your time. He'll be fine." Her eye drifted to my left hand, and a soft frown creased her face. "Where's Teddy? The office? Running the ship?"

  I nodded. "Where else?" I swept my arm toward the door. "Shall we go bust a little ball?"

  Melinda laughed. "You bet."

  Steve lay in bed, while Katie and Chelsea decorated his face with makeup. He had a mustache, beard, new eyebrows and a star on his forehead. I laughed until I noticed his leg was suspended in a traction sling — not good. I went to his bedside and gave him a soft punch to the arm. "Hey man, I love your new look. It really works for you."

  Steve ch
uckled. "Yeah, I was in the mood for a makeover, so I ditched work early." His gaze slipped to my left hand, puzzled eyebrows then a frown. "Looks like I screwed up your plans. Sorry."

  Katy crawled over Steve and gave me a hug. "Scotti!" She twirled a finger around one of my curls. "Did you bring Uncle Steve a cake?"

  I lifted her off the bed and set her down. "Nope, I sure didn't. But that would've been a good idea."

  Imitating her big sister, Chelsea climbed over Steve to me and said, "But we want cake."