Murder on the Menu

by Zoey Kane

Gia pointed to a telephone icon next to Betty's name.

  "It’s a portal to her phone records," Reese said.

  "Can you pull that up, please?" she asked.

  Her brother obliged. She leaned in, scanning the long list of incoming and outgoing calls and text messages—between Betty and a recurring phone number. Gia’s attention was drawn to yesterday's date; the evening Marco was shot. Before and after the time of the murder, Betty and the same number talked constantly.

  Over and over again.

  Even now—five minutes ago, Betty was still contacting the number. Could it be her mother, maybe?

  A sister? Someone to console her about the recent passing?

  "The area code is West Emily," Reese informed her.

  "Can you click and see what the text messages say?" Gia asked, pointing with anticipation.

  "Not without a warrant for the phone service provider. It’s blocked without one."

  "But you're a genius. You hack into… stuff," she said lamely.

  Reese smiled. "Yes, I do hack into stuff. With this, red flags will immediately start flying. Not to mention, it's illegal. I don't want to lose my job. Looking at general info is as far as I'm allowed to go outside of the office."

  "A peek at financial records is all right, too," Russell said.

  "I'm sorry." Gia frowned. "I wasn't thinking." She hadn’t stopped to consider what she was asking of her younger brothers who might end up putting their careers in jeopardy.

  Reese nudged her shoulder with his. "I can, however, find out who the other number belongs to." A few taps on the keyboard later, Reese unveiled the name and license photo of Betty’s correspondent. "Jacob Ramirez."

  Holy salsa on a chip.

  "I know him! He's a waiter at Tortillas and Beans." She recalled those cocoa-colored eyes boring into hers as he held her hand and recited the tacky line he likely stole from a poetry book.

  “Betty, no doubt, was cheating on Marco," Reese said.

  "You don’t know that."

  "Gia, this guy and Betty have been corresponding for two months straight." Russell gestured to the screen.

  "At all hours of the day," Reese added. "If they weren’t sending kissy faces, then what was so important for them to talk about from midnight to four in the morning? Certainly not a marathon debate on the difference between corn and flour tortillas."

  Point taken.

  "There's only one way to find out." Gia read aloud Ramirez's address. "Let’s go ask him if he's having an affair with Betty Gonzales."

  Russell checked his watch. "I can’t. I have to be somewhere in fifteen minutes."

  Reese smirked. "Seeing Amber from the analysis division again?"

  “Maybe,” Russell mumbled, blushing, and escaped out the door.

  "How about you?" Gia asked the remaining twin. "Do you wanna come with me?"

  "To be honest," Reese said, snapping the computer closed, "seeing your sudden interest in unpredictable situations, dangerous characters, and a lack of mental prowess of common sense—I think it'll be perfect for Tony to accompany you."

  For the first time, Gia actually growled at her brother. "All righty, it’s time we talked." She moved a pillow aside to scoot closer to him. She blamed herself for not addressing this sooner. "I don’t know what your problem is with Tony—"

  "I don’t have a problem. I just don't like the guy." Reese leaned back, proudly crossing his arms.

  "—but you need to get over it. Your attitude towards him makes no sense since we all used to hang out together when we were kids, remember? You played soccer with him."

  "So? I don’t have to be cool with everyone forever." He glared at the coffee table. His jaw muscle twitched.

  There's more. "Okay." She waved a hand. "You have the floor. Tell me what this is all about."

  He remained silent and bobbed his right knee. Thirty knee-bobs later, he sighed before finally facing her. "I'm afraid."

  "Of what?" she frowned.

  "When Tony's mom was murdered, I was devastated for him. It upset me that he no longer had a mother anymore. I thought of Ma. She may be a bit overbearing—"

  "A bit?" Gia raised an eyebrow.

  "Okay, she’s the Queen of Smother. But I can't guarantee where I’d be in life without her. And then to hear Tony's dad was the one who killed his mom... I remember thinking, 'You can never truly know a person'... not even your own spouse." He swallowed audibly. "For so long I had nightmares of Ma being the one getting carried away in a body bag. Now, ten years later, it’s happening again." He paused to look directly into Gia’s wide-as-saucers eyes. "But instead of Ma, this time… it's you."

  "Oh, Reese. Nothing’s going to happen to me," she said softy, feeling compassion.

  "How can you be sure?" he countered. "Since Tony came back, you’ve been involved in murder investigations, asking Russell and me to look up background information on suspects. You never did that until Tony showed up."

  "You’re right. I didn’t." She shrugged. "But I am now because he needs my help. Manny needs my help, and you know, Reese, I can’t turn my back on a situation where I can make a difference. As for my relationship with Tony—who knows where that'll lead? What I do know is he’ll keep me safe, and I trust him. Can you at least take my word and live with that?"

  Reese nodded. I can live with it, he thought. But if she was harmed in any way and Tony was to blame, then heaven have mercy on that bastard's soul.

  "Good. Come here." Gia opened her arms. "Give your big sis a hug,"

  "Ya know what? I think I do have somewhere to be—ACK!" He was yanked into a constricting hug. His sister's seemingly flimsy arms squeezed his ribcage tight.

  "I-I c-c-can’t breathe," he gasped.

  "Whoops, sorry," she giggled, letting him go. They shared an all-is-right-for-the-Rizzo-siblings smile, and the universe was instantly back to normal.

  Or so they thought.

  "Uh, I have a confession to make..." Reese suddenly looked everywhere, but at her.

  "What did you do?"

  "First off, please keep in mind—"

  "Spill it, Reese."

  "I told Ma about you and Tony."

  8

  "You... did... WHAT?!"

  Reese raced into the kitchen, behind the island, putting space between him and his lava-spewing sister. "I'm sorry! I thought you'd heard from her by now."

  Gia hadn’t, which was odd. That could only mean something big was brewing. "You owe me." She pointed a finger at her terrified brother.

  "I-Yeah," He nodded. "Definitely."

  "I'm collecting now." Gia advanced on him, a smirk tugging at her lips.

  "What do you want?" He eyed her suspiciously.

  "A checkup on Ramirez—" She held up a hand to stop him from commenting. “I honestly have no clue when Tony will be back, and I'm not waiting for him. You can either take me, play the role of overprotective little brother and watch over me all you want, or I can hail a cab and collect my I.O.U another day. Keep in mind, future collection may or may not be a risk you should be willing to take." She topped her wager with an evil grin.

  Reese exhaled heavily. "I’ll get my keys," he grumbled.

  <<<>>>

  The sun had set. Streetlights, headlights, and lit windows made the city sparkle far brighter than the stars. Gia wasn't used to so much activity. Like humans, JewelCove and Greenville slowed, winding down from a busy day and eventually falling asleep. Here in the city, life pulsed and drummed as hard as it did during the day.

  Just as loud, too.

  A few times, she thought she spotted the white dot of the moon but was mistaken. Just a passing helicopter.

  "Do you miss JewelCove?" she asked Reese, who maneuvered his car through the nocturnal traffic like a pro.

  "Sometimes."

  "Any plans of returning?"

  "One day. When I'm ready to settle down. Same

  with Rus. Though I suspect he'll go before me."

  Gia smiled in the dark. She was reli
eved to hear her brother say that. He and Russell had the eyes and brains of city men. In time, their skills and instinct would enlarge, but their hearts forever beat as small-town boys. Gia, herself, would always remain partly in the large green fields of Greenville and floating on the salty water of JewelCove.

  Jacob Ramirez inhabited a loft in the artsy district of northern West Emily. His building was surrounded by steel-junk-turned-antiques shops, pottery spinning dives, and hand-made jewelry boutiques. Thick-framed oil paintings were displayed on easels outside a museum, beckoning people to gaze at brushstrokes made by eclectic artists.

  The eateries contained alcohol-laced juice bars, vegan pizza, and gelatos galore. Gia had to control her tongue from rolling out of her mouth.

  The young and the hip clustered on sidewalks and in outdoor seating, soaking in the nightlife with friends, dates, or independently sketching the scene before them.

  Reese parked in front a karaoke bar, and he and Gia trekked to the building entrance. The door was vaulted shut. Reese hit the buzzer listed for Ramirez’s loft number.

  They waited a minute before a groggy voice came on the intercom. "Who is it?" Gia recognized Ramirez's exotic lilt.

  "Hi, it's..." Wait. How could she introduce herself? She never gave him her name at Tortillas and Beans.

  Unless...

  "It's the woman whose beauty frosts the mid-summer eclipse," she said.

  A bewildered Reese mouthed, “What?!”

  "Is that so?" Ramirez covered his surprise with charm. "Are you alone?"

  "Yes," she lied.

  "Got tired of that stuffy boyfriend and wanted a real man?" The smug smile in his voice was evident.

  Gia faked a gag. Reese grew annoyed.

  "Yep, that’s precisely it. Can I come up?"

  "Of course." The buzzer flipped green and the door unlatched. They dashed inside and stepped into an elevator.

  "I haven't even seen the guy yet and he already sounds like a winner." Reese remarked, pressing the button.

  "What I don’t get is why Ramirez hadn’t asked me how I found his address."

  "I seriously doubt that’s what’s on his mind right now, sis."

  As always, Reese was correct. Ramirez opened the door wearing nothing but silk shorts and a cloud of cologne. Behind him, a bottle of wine sat on a coffee table, accompanied by two glasses.

  Needless to say, Ramirez was upset when seeing Reese. "Hey! Who is he? You said you were alone."

  "I lied. Sue me." Gia shrugged, inviting herself into the spacious loft. She was short and fast, and the look on her face dared him to mess with her. She had come here for answers, and she wasn’t leaving until she got them.

  She flicked a wink at her brother, who stood silently guarding the door. It was cute that he (the width of a green bean) had adopted the position of a large bouncer at a club.

  "I'm assuming you heard by now your boss, Manny Epstein, has been arrested for murder," she started, watching Ramirez closely.

  He was still struggling to comprehend that a secret, intimate rendezvous wasn’t happening. Finally, her words hit him. Instead of coming out and asking her who they were, he about-faced to uncork the wine.

  "Yeah. The restaurant closed early this evening." He poured himself a drink. No offers to the Rizzos. "Everyone's pretty shocked about it."

  "And you?"

  "I guess I am, too," he said, without much feeling.

  "How long have you worked at Tortillas and Beans? Do you think it’s true your boss killed someone?"

  "Five years, and it’s none of my business." He lifted a tan shoulder and took a seat on his leather loveseat.

  Gia could see he completely lacked emotion for his employer. Even after half a decade of working for Manny. A dead end.

  Moving on, she switched tactics before Ramirez sucked up the nerve to throw them out. Aim for the point, she thought. Shoot it down quick. "Are you familiar with a woman named Betty Gonzales?"

  Ramirez remained stony, but his throat tightened.

  Gotcha.

  "No, I’m not.” He swirled the burgundy liquid, averting his eyes, then faked a sleazy smile. "Then again, I know a lot of women. So, who knows?"

  "I think you know. She's the wife of the man who was murdered."

  "My condolences," he said, rolling his eyes, "to whoever she is. Are we done here? If I’d known we were gonna play cop and suspect, I would've brought handcuffs." He winked.

  Reese stepped forward and grabbed his sister. "We're leaving." He glared at Ramirez.

  Gia waited until they were at the door before leaving Ramirez a departing gift. "I find it odd that an affair takes place between a man and a married woman, and suddenly her husband is found murdered." Gia nonchalantly shrugged. Ramirez’s arm spasmed, spilling wine all over his silk shorts. "Then again, it could just be a coincidence."

  <<<>>>

  Ten minutes from the twins’ penthouse, Reese spotted a dark-gray vehicle two cars behind. He hadn't mentioned to Gia that the same vehicle had been present when they left for Ramirez’s place. And had also been near the karaoke pub. When he came clean to her, she wasn’t frightened in the least, but was fed up and instructed him to pull over. They watched in the rearview mirror as the suspicious car mimicked their actions a couple of spaces back.

  “Can you see who it is?” Gia asked, practically cheek to cheek with Reese—to catch who their new friend was.

  “No. I think it’ll be best to continue home and not do anything reckless. Gia!”

  She had swung open her door and was hoofing it to the grey vehicle. “Did I not say I was fed up, Reese?” she snapped over her shoulder.

  She tapped her knuckles on the stalker’s driver’s-side tinted window. It rolled down, and Gia was immediately met with a police badge. "Huh?"

  "Officer Hugo," a uniformed man said. He had frizzy blond hair and a scowl smeared on his face. He pocketed his credentials and glanced between the two. "Where's Santino?" he asked.

  Gia ignored the question. Although, at that moment, she would have liked to have known where her boyfriend was, too. "Why are you following us?"

  Hugo’s reply was nonexistent.

  "Perkins and Gibson told you to tag us," Reese said, coming up beside Gia. "Not specifically you, Agent Rizzo."

  Officer Hugo nodded to him. “Yes, I know you work the cyber-crimes unit for federal. But your sister and Santino? I'm just doing my job. And that’s classified."

  “How is stalking classified?” Gia folded her arms. “Let alone a legit job?”

  Hugo grew purple. "Ms. Rizzo, I suggest you go back to your serving sweet tea and corndogs back in that podunk town." He started the engine. “Manny Epstein’s crimes have nothing to do with you. He'll get what’s coming to him, just like all the other murderers—locked away behind bars for a very long time."

  "And that’s a promising outcome the justice system has for criminals." Gia’s attitude amped up a notch. "Too bad you've got the wrong guy."

  Hugo worked his jaw, putting his car into gear. "I hope you had fun in West Emily, but it's time for you to go home. Don’t hesitate to drag Santino along with you." The tinted window went up and Hugo disappeared into the roaring current of the busy street.

  "Creep," Reese mumbled. "You okay?" He steered Gia back to his car.

  She hadn’t realized her whole body was shivering. Was she angry at the ignorant officer? Yes, definitely. But also fearful of letting the killer slip through her fingers, and not saving Manny? Absolutely. Right to the bone.

  "He's wrong about two things, Reese."

  “What’s that?"

  "Well, for starters, In The Box bistro doesn’t sell corndogs," she said.

  Reese chuckled. "And the second?"

  "Manny being a murderer."

  Was Perkins and Gibson keeping an eye on her and Tony after Manny's supposed "official” arrest a good thing? What threat could they possibly be if the case was closed?

  Another emotion bloomed within her, alongside
the anger and fear. Hope.

  9

  Tony's chat with Luke ended just shy of ten o’clock. He quietly entered Reese and Russell’s dimly lit apartment. At least they kept a nightlight on for hima small lamp by the couch in the living room.

  There, he met a snoozing Gia.

  She was bundled underneath the blanket he’d slept with last night. One of her legs had escaped the cover, an arm thrown over her eyes, and her mouth wide open, emitting soft snores.

  Sorry, Luke. But there's no way I’m trading Greenville’s sunshine and daises for slumming the streets of West Emily again. Greenville is where G is.

  Tony shucked off his shoes, then slowly slipped in next to Gia, careful to not push her off.

  Her eyes fluttered open. "You’re back," she whispered. "There’s leftover baked potato in the fridge."

  He fixed the blanket over them both. "I'm fine. Thank you," he said.

  "Am I still banished from your truck?" she asked in a small voice.

  "No." He kissed her forehead.

  "Good. Tony?"

  "Hmm?"

  "You smell like buffalo sauce."

  There was a reasonable explanation for that. Sometime during his discussion, one of the men who were beating the tar out of each other over the last chicken wing had flipped out a knife. Tony and Luke decided to step in.

  It’s all fun and games until someone gets buffalo sauce in the eye. Tony couldn’t believe how long it had taken to separate three grown men from one little wing.

  "It’s been a rough night," he said.

  <<<>>>

  The next morning, the twins left for work, leaving Gia and Tony drinking coffee while both shared their findings from the previous night. Tony wasn’t too happy to hear about Gia and Reese’s nighttime excursion.

  Having no clue of what went on in the underbelly of West Emily, Gia was speechless after Tony told her what he’d learned. Her nose was too busy stuck in cookbooks to ever discover the world she lived in was full of crime families and art smugglers.

  “I want to talk to Betty again and ask her if she knew Pico de Gonzales was being sponsored by the Giovanni family," Tony said, setting his empty mug in the sink. "My money is on that she did."