I was confused. "How did Trevor get ahold of the money then, if it was all going to David?"
"Apparently David, I mean Benjamin, wasn't as clever as we thought. For the last couple of homes, Trevor went with him to close the deals and collected the money, saying he was investing most of it in the stock market for them. After a while David finally got suspicious, and when he confronted Trevor, his buddy told him it was every man for himself."
"Where's the money then? Tina told me she can't even pay her rent," I pointed out.
Brian shrugged. "It could be a front. A lot of times people won't fix up their house or say they're broke for this very reason. For all we know, the cash might be in their apartment and she was involved too."
"What about the other gunmen? Did this joker Benjamin give him up?" Mike asked.
Brian shook his head. "He wouldn't say much until his lawyer arrived, but he did keep repeating that he hadn't killed anyone. You know, Sally, the same thing he was saying at the strip club."
My stomach constricted. Great. Thanks for that, Brian.
Mike gripped the table tightly with his good hand. "What strip club?"
"I told you that we followed David," I said uneasily. "Turns out, that's where he went—ah, to Bottoms Up."
Mike's blue eyes resembled steel as he glared at Brian. "Did you use my wife as some kind of bait for that freak?"
"It wasn't anything like that," I protested. "Josie and I had a drink and talked with him until the cops arrived." Okay, so I'd conveniently skipped over a few parts, but were they necessary to bring up now?
Brian glanced from me to Mike, and his face colored slightly. Thankfully he didn't contradict my story. "After Benjamin and his attorney met in private and he learned we'd discovered the gun in his car, he agreed to talk to me. He told me select things, though—about how he'd first met Trevor, and admitted that his gun went off accidentally when Mike jumped forward." He turned his attention back to Mike. "He claims he didn't mean to shoot you, and a couple of eye witnesses have concurred with this. However, he wouldn't tell me anything about the other gunman."
"Why is he protecting this guy?" I asked angrily. "Do you think it's a relative? Maybe his brother? A good friend?"
"He's probably holding out for a deal," Brian remarked. "It's already been hinted at."
"Figures." This discussion was starting to make my blood boil. "And he's going to get one, isn't he?"
"That's not up to me," Brian said honestly. "But yes, there's a chance he may get what he wants if he gives us information on his partner—the person who killed Trevor Parks."
"Does the media know that this David, I mean Benjamin—whatever the hell his name is," Mike said with sarcasm, "is in custody?"
Brian shook his head. "We're keeping it quiet for now, in hopes he might lead us to the other gunman. We've got an officer stationed at Benjamin's home in Colgate in case he shows up there."
"David, err, Benjamin mentioned a girlfriend to me," I said suddenly.
Brian raised an eyebrow. "He didn't say anything about a lady friend. Does she live with him?"
I shrugged. "No idea. Their relationship seemed kind of casual." If this woman had known what Benjamin had been doing earlier today, she would have choked the life out of him. It sickened me to realize this guy would serve less time if he helped the police, but sadly, that was the way things worked in our world. "He must have told you something else. Did he say anything about the other gunman? How did he and Trevor meet?"
"Apparently Benjamin and Trevor met about a year ago when they worked at a large construction company in Virginia together," Brian said.
"Roberts Construction?" I asked. "That's the name his ex-wife, Erica, gave me, but I never called the owner."
Brian nodded. "That's right. From what Benjamin says, the owner wasn't aware at first that Trevor had ripped him off. He left before they caught on. Trevor worked in purchasing for a while and began doing the same thing he did to Mike, stealing materials. One night, Benjamin returned to a job site when he realized he'd forgotten something. He spotted Trevor smuggling an order into his car that had been left there earlier. Trevor offered to cut him in for his silence. Thus the start of a true friendship was born."
We all did a universal eye roll at this remark.
"When Trevor moved here after his divorce, Benjamin decided to come along too and see what deals they could find. Benjamin knew all about the scheme to steal from your business, Mike, and apparently you weren't the first one Trevor pulled this on."
"Gee, that makes me feel better," Mike said bitterly.
Brian went on. "Like I said before, when he found out Trevor was freezing him out, he refused to go away. Benjamin took to following Trevor around and told him if he didn't get his share, he'd make trouble. Finally, Trevor agreed to meet him outside a local restaurant with some cash."
"That must have been when Mrs. Gavelli spotted him," I said excitedly.
"Benjamin said that Trevor handed him an envelope full of money, but most of it turned out to be dollar bills," Brian explained. "Trevor told him that he was on his own from now on, and Benjamin was furious. What did Trevor care if Benjamin turned him in for stealing from Roberts Construction, especially since Benjamin was guilty of it too. Well, Benjamin wasn't going to stand for being cheated and told his anonymous friend—aka the other gunman—about it. His friend decided that they should start threatening Trevor."
"The other gunman—he was in on it from the beginning?" Mike asked.
"According to Benjamin, no," Brian said. "The other gunman offered to help when Benjamin told him what Trevor had done."
This seemed strange to me. Why would this other person go the extra mile for Benjamin and put themselves at risk if they weren't involved in the larceny?
"They both decided to keep Trevor in their sights," Brian continued. "I guess they thought he'd lead them to the money eventually. The money that Benjamin says belongs to him. What's strange is that he knew it wasn't in Trevor's bank account. Why Trevor would share that information with Benjamin, I have no idea."
Something here didn't fit, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was.
"They followed Mike and Trevor to the mini-mart that night and decided to rough them up when they came back outside. They put on ski masks in case anyone recognized them. But Benjamin's friend got antsy and ran inside the market. He said that he had no choice but to follow."
"So Trevor was killed for the money he was keeping. Some of which was our money," Mike said tightly. "But why kill him until you knew where it was? That doesn't make any sense."
"Because it wasn't only about the money," I said thoughtfully.
Both men and Grandma Rosa looked over at me.
"I think there's more to this," I explained. "Benjamin isn't telling you everything, Brian. These guys wanted Trevor out of the way for some other reason too. It feels like revenge to me."
Brian looked impressed. "Interesting theory, Sally. Keep it up, and you may put me out of a job."
Mike picked up my hand and kissed it. "Way to go, Betsy Drew. You always come through."
"Nancy Drew," Grandma Rosa corrected him.
We all smiled at this one. My grandmother's subtle way of getting even with us for correcting her over the years.
"I could be wrong." But I didn't think I was. Who was this other guy Benjamin had taken up with? Was it someone connected to Trevor—a friend or relative? Did Tina or Erica know, or were they involved? What about Trevor's brother, Curtis, who hated the sight of him? Morgan claimed to love her brother, but he had stolen money from her too. Had she hired someone to get revenge?
Mike blew out a sigh. "We're not going to get our money back, are we?"
Brian looked grim. "I don't know, Mike. Try to think positive, okay? If we can get Benjamin to talk to us about this other guy, maybe it will all come together."
Sure, money wasn't everything, but Mike and I worked hard for what we had. The most important thing was that my husband was
alive, and I hadn't lost sight of that fact. This was our livelihood, though. We didn't deserve to be going through this, and the sad part was that others had suffered as well. It needed to stop—and now.
"I'm planning to call Jerry Maroon tonight and go ahead with the television interview for tomorrow as planned." I turned to Mike. "If it's okay with you, babe."
Mike nodded. "Yeah, I'll talk to him. But he'd better understand I'm not doing this for sympathy or for people to send me donations." He sighed heavily "I realize we may never get our money back. It is what it is. But at least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing they won't be able to do this to someone else."
Grandma Rosa, who had been silently observing the conversation up until now, nodded her approval. "You are a sensible man. You and Sally will come through just fine." She smiled encouragingly at me. "Better things are coming your way."
"There's a good chance the other gunman might see the interview, right?" I asked Brian.
He nodded. "Definitely. When you're a criminal on the run, you always want to get some idea of what people are saying about you."
"Then it's settled. It would be great if Jerry can run the interview twice tomorrow." I paused for a moment. "The media won't find out that Benjamin is in custody, right?"
Brian narrowed his eyes. "Sally, what have you got up your sleeve?"
"I'm not sure yet," I confessed. "But I'll come up with something, don't worry."
"There's no doubt in my mind." Wearily, Brian rose to his feet. "If we find anything else out about Benjamin, I'll be in touch. Please let me know what time the interview is scheduled for because I'd like to be here."
A studio audience. How nice. "Will do," I said as Grandma Rosa shut the front door behind him.
Mike stirred the spoon idly around in his soup bowl. "Are you going into the bakery tomorrow?"
"Yes, at least for the morning. I'm hoping that Jerry can fit us in close to noon, and I'll run home for an extended lunch. Plus, I don't want to keep asking Gianna. She's due any day, and it's not good for her to be on her feet so much."
He merely nodded and kept stirring with the spoon but made no attempt to eat more. This bothered me since pasta fagioli was his favorite. I'd seen him polish off three bowls in one sitting before. I reached for the bowl. "Want me to warm it up for you?"
Mike shook his head. "Thanks, princess, but my appetite's gone." He looked up at my grandmother, who had come back to clear the table. "I'm sorry, Rosa. You went to a lot of trouble on my account."
"Bah." She patted him on his good shoulder. "It is fine, my dear boy. You go rest. I shall make you a big breakfast tomorrow morning. You will need your strength for the interview."
My phone pinged with a text from Josie. "Oh, this is great!" I looked up at Grandma Rosa excitedly. "I'll have to leave early tomorrow morning. We got an order for 200 cookies for a party tomorrow night. Boy, we can sure use that dough now."
I laughed out loud, pleased with my attempt at a pun, but it was met with ominous silence. Mike got to his feet and kissed me, then walked into our bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. Worried, I dropped the dishes in the sink and started to follow him.
Grandma Rosa reached out and placed a hand on my arm. "Let him be, cara mia. Sometimes a man needs to be alone with his thoughts."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was wonderful to be back at work the next morning. Even though it had only been a few days, I'd missed the scents in my bakery and working side by side with my best friend. It was good to know that some things were still within my control.
The smell of chocolate wafted through the air to greet me. Josie had made chocolate brownie cookies—a new recipe she'd just created that could satisfy anyone's chocoholic craving for a week. Her raspberry cheesecake cookies practically melted in my mouth. My stomach rumbled, and I ate two of each kind, still warm from the oven, when I thought Josie's back was turned.
"Good to see you eating cookies again." Josie grinned as she placed messages in a tray of fortune cookies and quickly folded the corners around them. "And I'm so happy Mike is doing better. Did he mind your coming in today?"
"No. Honestly, I think it's good for both of us. My hovering is starting to make him a little crazy. Plus, he keeps beating himself up over what Trevor did. He's angry at the world right now. It's not fair, Jos. He's worked so hard his entire life." My voice trembled. "Mike didn't deserve this." No one did.
She nodded soberly. "I know, Sal. There are a lot of things in this life that aren't fair. But as your grandmother would say, don't cry over spilled eggs."
"She says coffee, but hey, whatever. Grandma is always original."
Josie shook multicolored sprinkles over the tray of vanilla cookies she'd finished baking. I'd given her my recipe for the ones I'd created in honor of Mike's birthday, and Josie had loved it. She was convinced they'd be a big hit in the shop, too.
"Was Mike still sleeping when you left this morning?" she asked.
"No. He and my grandmother were playing Go Fish." I wiped my hands on my apron. "And I think he was trying to cheat."
We both laughed. "See? Things are looking up already," Josie said. "I'm convinced the two of you can make it through anything. Look at what you've overcome already."
Her words filled me with hope. "Thanks, Jos. I needed to hear that."
Josie added butter and confectioners' sugar to the mixer for her buttercream frosting. "When does Mike start physical therapy?"
"Next week." After Mike had gone to bed last night, I'd taken the plunge and applied for a home equity loan online. We'd been approved, so that was good news, but it still hurt that we'd had to resort to this. Sadly, there were no other choices for us right now.
"On to your favorite topic," I said. "The book signing for Dad on Saturday—do you think it would be okay to charge for the cookies?"
"The famous coffin cookies? Hell yes, we're charging. By the way, we're already getting orders. How word got out about these things, I don't know. It's going to take an entire day for me to make them." She studied me carefully. "It's none of my business, but how bad are things financially? In the past, you would have given the cookies away."
I blew out a sigh. "True, but I can't—not this time anyway. Besides, it's not fair to you. You're doing all the work, so I want you to take a share of the profits as well."
Josie wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "Sal, you've always done so much for me and the kids—bringing them toys, paying for my trip to Florida for the bakeoff. You even lent Rob and me money when I was arrested last year for Kelly's murder. Please let me do this for you. Charge whatever you want for the cookies, but I'm not taking a red cent."
A lump grew in my throat. "But it's not right," I managed to choke out before I dissolved into tears.
Josie put her arms around me and patted my back until I'd composed myself. She handed me a napkin to wipe my eyes, and I noticed that hers were moist as well. It was when you were down and out that you knew who your true friends were. Josie always came through for me. She'd even saved my life a few months back when I'd been locked in a freezer.
After giving me an encouraging smile, she went over to the ovens and removed a tray of fortune cookies. "I know that I complain about your dad and his weirdness, but I still enjoy making the cookies. Who knows, maybe these little coffins will put me on the map and make us famous someday."
I laughed and glanced at my watch. It was already past ten, and we'd only had two customers so far. Yes, I hated slow days like this, but on the bright side, it had allowed us to finish up the cookie order, which was good since I had to leave soon.
The bells on the front door jingled away. Hooray for more customers.
"Be with you in a second," Josie yelled into the storeroom.
"That's okay, honey. It's only us," a female voice giggled in return.
Josie and I exchanged glances. The voice belonged to my mother, and the "us" most likely meant that my father was with her. Heaving a sigh, I lifted two tra
ys of jelly cookies from the oven and put them on the rack to cool. Then I followed Josie out to the storefront.
My father and mother were talking in low, hushed voices. When they saw us, they pointed at two cardboard boxes sitting on top of one of my white tables by the window. Books. My father's book to be exact. Yes, it had started already.
I cringed inwardly but tried to put on a brave face. "You're here a little early, aren't you? The signing isn't until Saturday."
My mother gave me a kiss. "Hello, darling. Hi, Josie. Daddy's trying to figure out if there's a way we can fit more tables in here. We're expecting quite a crowd, you know."
"I thought it was going to be like an open house," I said. "People coming in from eleven to three o'clock. Staggered, so to speak."
My father acted like he hadn't heard me. "The media will be here about noon. I expect a line down and around the block, so make sure coffee and cookies are ready to go, Sal."
My mother giggled again and removed her coat. She was wearing a tiny black satin dress with spaghetti straps. "We thought we might do a feature on stylish mourning clothes," she said. "I'll be wearing this dress. It's to let people know that, even though death is a somber event, you can still be stylish. Your father's thinking about featuring funeral wear on his blog soon."
Why did I feel like this book signing was going to turn into a three-ring circus? "Um, I don't know if that's a good idea," I said carefully. "People might be offended by someone coming to their loved one's funeral in such an—uh, outfit." For lack of better words. To me, it had barely more cloth than the bikinis she loved to wear in the summer.
My father prattled on. "Sal, we can use the upstairs apartment, right? I've rented some tables, and they'll be delivered this afternoon. Your mother will entertain people upstairs while my publicist and I sign books down here."
"You have a publicist?" Josie looked at me and mouthed how?
I merely shrugged. I'd been so involved with Mike and tracking Trevor's friends and family as of late that I had no idea what else my father had planned.
Dad puffed out his chest. "Yep. He thinks we'll sell a few hundred. The ranking on Amazon is already going up. I broke a million yesterday."
Sprinkled in Malice Page 16
