"A million copies?" Josie gasped.
"Nah. My book was sitting in the one millionth spot. But it will be in the top ten by next week," he said with confidence. "Mark my words."
Oh brother. "Dad, are you expecting people to stay around all day? That means more work for Josie and me. I can't ask Josie to do that, and—"
"But I'd insist on paying her." Dad whistled cheerfully as he walked behind the display case and started to reach for a fortune cookie in the case.
Josie rushed forward and grabbed a piece of wax paper. "I'll get it for you, Domenic. And it's okay, Sal. I could use the dough." She gave me a wry smile. "Another pun."
Dad looked at me thoughtfully. "I spoke to Jerry Maroon this morning. He said that he's coming to your house for a noon interview. Want me to coach you a little first?"
That was all Mike and I needed. "No thanks, Dad. I think we have it under control."
My mother cleared her throat. "Honey, it's past ten. Why don't you go ahead and leave now? Daddy and I can stay here and help Josie."
"Lucky me," Josie muttered under her breath. She gave me a little nudge. "If your mom waits on customers, I can work on the coffin cookies."
Dad walked into the back room, sniffing the air. "Hey, I smell them! Where are those babies? I can't wait to see how they turned out."
Josie clapped her hands at him. "Domenic, the first round is in the cooler, and I still need to frost them. Why don't you stay out front with Maria and let me handle the baking part, please?"
"Sure thing," my father said. "Jerry said he'd stop over later. He thinks they could do a future segment about your shop, Sal. You know, title it The Un-Fortune-ate Bakery. Get it?"
Gee, everyone was full of puns today. "Sure, Dad." I glanced at Josie with apprehension. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I've got some time."
She pointed at the door. "Go now, before I change my mind. You're coming back this afternoon, right?"
"Yes, Jerry said we should be through by one o'clock."
"Good." She reached for a pair of plastic gloves and put them on. "I don't think I'll have choked your father by then. Maybe."
* * *
It felt like I'd been railroaded out of my bakery, even though I knew Josie and my parents meant well. I hoped the signing wouldn't turn out to be a disaster, but it was out of my hands. At least it would be a distraction from real life. I was so looking forward to Mike's belated birthday dinner on Sunday.
There was close to an hour to kill before Jerry needed me at the house. I should go home to my husband, but he was in Grandma Rosa's capable hands. The best thing I could do for him and for myself was to find the person who had killed Trevor, which would hopefully lead us to the money he'd ripped off from us.
In deep thought, I sipped the orange juice I'd bought from the bagel shop across the street from my bakery. Hopefully the vitamin C would kick in soon because I was dragging today. What should I do? Who else was left to pay a visit to?
I started the engine, and my car moved down the street, but I was unsure where it was headed. Time to review what I knew so far. One of the gunmen was in custody. He had refused to give up the identity of the other gunman. Benjamin Silver, or Mr. Lap Dance as I referred to him in my mind, had known Trevor but insisted he hadn't meant to kill anyone. Mike himself had said that the shorter guy had done the deed. Trevor's shooting felt—no, it was personal. Was the man connected to Trevor's family? Intuition told me that a relative must be involved. But who and why?
Brian said that no one knew David Webb was in custody—yet. The arraignment wasn't scheduled until tomorrow. That should give us enough time to bait the other gunman. Perhaps talking with both Erica and Tina again would prove to be useful. What if the television interview backfired? Perhaps I should go see Morgan as well. Curtis was undoubtedly back in Virginia by now.
Since Erica's house was closer, I headed there first. As I drove down her street, I noticed that her truck wasn't in the driveway. When I knocked on the door, the only response I received was Donny's incessant barking. With a sigh, I got back into the car and checked my watch—10:45. Jerry wanted me at the house by 11:30 if I was to be featured in the interview as well. He planned for it to go live at noon. With no time to waste, I started the car and zoomed over to Tully.
The station wagon was gone from the front of the duplex, and in its place was a black SUV with a Virginia license plate. My heart gave a little jolt. Why was Curtis here? Was he bullying his brother's fiancée? What a creep. Curtis might think Tina knew where the money was. How far would he go to get his hands on it? I prayed he wouldn't harm her or the baby she was carrying.
I drove around the block and parked farther up the street this time, behind a large white van that partially blocked my car. I moved over to the passenger side and waited, hoping someone would emerge from the house soon.
After a few minutes, Curtis appeared on the porch, looking suave and professional in a black suede overcoat and matching dress shoes. Tina was behind him. He looked sharply to his right, then to the left while I crouched lower in the seat.
Satisfied, he turned back around to face Tina, and she placed her arms around his neck. Their lips met in a wild, passionate kiss.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Are you sure about this, Sally?" Brian asked.
I raised an eyebrow at him. "Brian, I might be suffering from a lack of sleep, but I know what I saw. It was definitely Curtis kissing Tina. Not a brotherly type kiss, either. Mark my words, they're having an affair."
Mike shook his head in disbelief. We were seated on the couch in our living room while Brian sat across from us in the armchair. Jerry Maroon was standing by the fireplace, talking quietly with the cameraman. Grandma Rosa was sitting at the kitchen table, crocheting. She was quiet and reserved, but I knew those large brown eyes of hers missed nothing.
After I'd left Tina's—still in shock—I'd called Brian. He'd wanted to come for the interview anyway. It made me a bit nervous to have him there, in case I slipped up and said something on the air that I shouldn't.
Jerry seemed surprised by Brian's presence but to his credit said nothing. Maybe he was planning to take notes for a future interview with a police officer. Officer Jenkins, why are you so involved in Mrs. Donovan's personal life? Don't you realize she's a disaster waiting to happen?
I forced the thoughts out of my head and tried to pay attention to what Brian was saying.
"There aren't grounds to arrest either one of them yet," Brian remarked. "Even if they are having an affair, it doesn't mean they killed Trevor."
"What if you talked to David—I mean Benjamin—about this?" I asked. "If he thinks we know that Curtis and Tina are working together, maybe he'd be willing to give them up. What would he have to lose at this point?"
"It's possible. We can schedule another talk with him when his lawyer is present. If we hadn't gotten Benjamin's fingerprints from the market and the tattoo hadn't been so unique, there wouldn't be enough grounds to arrest him. Don't expect too much though. He's waiting for us to offer him a deal first."
"Maybe Benjamin was having an affair with Tina as well," Mike suggested. "That might explain why he doesn't give her up to the police. Maybe he'll expose Curtis if he realizes we know about the affair."
Brian made a note on the pad in front of him. "By the way, I forgot to tell you earlier that Tina called 9-1-1 yesterday morning to report her apartment had been broken into while she was at the grocery store. Nothing was taken, but drawers were dumped out and the place had been left in a mess."
"Was she telling the truth?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Hard to say. I wasn't available at the time, but a couple of my co-workers went over to make out the report. The place was trashed, but yeah, she could have done it herself. If not, then someone may have been there looking for something."
"Like the money Trevor was keeping from his partners." Where had he hidden it? And who else had been in on the larceny with him?
Jerry came over and looked expectantly at Brian, who eased himself out of the chair. "Thanks, Officer. Now, if you'll go join Granny in the kitchen, we can get this show underway." He sat down in the chair and crossed his left leg over his right. "Mike and Sally, just act natural. We're going with a plea for the gunman to give himself up, right?"
Jerry didn't know that I had a different plan in the works. When everyone else found out—especially Brian—this might turn into National Choke Sally Day. "Sounds good." I reached for Mike's hand. "Are you feeling up to this, sweetheart?"
He nodded. "Sal, I want this person caught. Even if we can't get our money back, I don't want it to happen to someone else."
"I feel the same way."
Jerry straightened the mic on his collar. "Okay, guys, try to talk directly into the mic. Don't cover it with your hand, okay?" He looked over at the cameraman. "What's the good word, Stew?"
Stew adjusted the lens and nodded. "We're going in ten seconds."
Jerry looked into the camera lens, waited for the signal from Stew, and smiled so wide that his face must have hurt. "Good afternoon, Buffalo. Jerry Maroon here with a special interview coming to you straight from the home of Michael and Sally Donovan in Colwestern. Michael was the shooting victim of a robbery at the local mini-mart the other evening—wasn't it your birthday too, Michael? What a stroke of bad luck."
A muscle ticked in Mike's jaw. He hated to be the center of attention and the possible object of pity. "Yes. And Mike is just fine, thanks."
Jerry seemed taken back but quickly recovered. "Tell us what you remember from the robbery. The pain when the bullet hit you, the agony and uncertainty of not knowing if you'd ever see your lovely wife again. Were you conscious at all?"
A slow anger was building in the bottom of my stomach, and Mike stiffened against me. If Jerry didn't stop soon, Mike might break the camera over his head. Jerry had not given us any indication he planned to take the interview in this direction. Our sole intention was to set a trap for the other gunman, and he knew it.
"Yes, I was conscious." Mike pursed his lips together. "And yes, I was afraid I might never see my wife again, but that's not the point right now. We want to find the guy—"
"The other man who was with you," Jerry interrupted. "He was your business partner, correct?"
Uh-oh. Jerry was stepping into dangerous territory. "He worked for me," Mike said cautiously. "I was giving him a lift home."
Jerry clucked his tongue like a chicken. "So sad to hear about Trevor Park's death. Such a tragedy. He was stealing money from your company, right?"
"I don't see what that has to do with anything, Jerry," Mike went on, gripping my hand so tightly that I almost yelped in pain. "We're here today because we want to get the man responsible for—"
"Yes, it's true," I cut in. "We believe the gunmen were in on the larceny with Trevor. Trevor was keeping secrets and money from them, and we believe they killed him deliberately."
From across the room, I spotted Brian's mouth drop and his face turn crimson. I was half expecting him to run across the room with his gun pointed at me.
Jerry's full attention was focused on me now, and his emerald eyes shone like a cat's. "Please go on, Mrs. Donovan."
Mike covered my hand with his as I continued. "Trevor was cheating his partners. He had money hidden away, and they were looking for it."
"How do you know this?" Jerry asked. "Is one of them in custody?"
Damn this guy. "No," I lied. "Trevor told Mike all about it the same evening he was killed. He was nervous and upset, so Mike asked him what was wrong, and he spilled all the details. We believe that he knew these guys were planning to kill him."
"Sal," Mike whispered in alarm.
"How interesting." Jerry leaned forward in obvious excitement. "Did Mr. Parks tell you where the money was hidden, Mike?"
I silently prayed that my husband would go along with it. This was our only hope if the other gunman was watching.
"Yes," Mike said. "He did tell me, and now that I'm home from the hospital, I'll be informing the police soon."
The cameraman caught Jerry's eye and pointed at his watch. Jerry clearly wanted more information, but it looked like he was out of luck and time. "Thank you both for joining me today," he said. "Please keep us updated on your health." His eyes widened as he stared into the camera. "Back to you, Joyce."
"That's a wrap," Stew said. "We're off the air."
Mike released my hand, rose to his feet, and crossed over to Jerry. His face was pinched tight with anger as he pointed a finger into Jerry's chest. "What the hell was that about? You were supposed to help us set a trap for this guy, not point out what a pitiful idiot I was to everyone."
Brian came forward and put a hand on Mike's shoulder. "Ease up, Mike."
Jerry looked from Mike to Brian, and a slow grin spread across his face. "Well, son, if you can't take the heat, I suggest you stay off the television." He glanced slyly over at me. "Seems you would have learned from the spectacle your wife has made of herself on the boob tube. Let's see…a food fight on Donna Dooley's show is the first thing that comes to mind. And then there was that classic episode of Cookie Crusades when—"
Mike swore and pointed at Stew. "Take your friend and get the hell out of my house before I do something I'll regret later."
Jerry roared with laughter. "Right. Like you could do anything to me in your condition. And I doubt you need a lawsuit since you're already broke."
I inserted myself between Mike and Jerry. "Don't underestimate my husband. Then again, he'd never stoop to your level, so you're safe."
"Ooh," Jerry mocked me. "That's good because I was really scared."
Anger flickered inside me like a flame. "That was a rotten thing you did. I didn't see my father's interview but can only hope that you didn't humiliate him the same way."
Jerry roared with laughter as he shrugged into his coat. "No worries there, honey. Your father does that all by himself. I feel sorry for you, Mrs. Donovan."
My anger threatened to boil over as I thrust a finger toward his face, the same way Mrs. Gavelli always did to me. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me. You're the one I'm sorry for. You enjoy degrading people. You think this makes you a big important man, but it's the opposite. As for my father, he may be a little different, but he's ten times the man you are. You could learn a lesson from him. At least he treats people with respect. Now, I believe my husband told you to leave our house."
The room had grown eerily silent. Jerry's eyes were cold as they stared into mine. "Sure thing, honey. I think we're done here."
Stew had already packed up his equipment, and after giving us a curt nod, he left. Jerry glanced over at Brian and then at my grandmother, who was still seated at the kitchen table crocheting. She wasn't even looking at us, but I knew she hadn't missed a single word or action.
Jerry's eyes brightened again. "Hey, maybe you can give your dad a message for me. Something's come up, so unfortunately, I won't be able to get a crew over to that fabulous book signing tomorrow. So sorry to miss the earth-shattering event. Please give him my profound apologies."
"Jerk," I spat out and slammed the door after him.
Mike planted an affectionate kiss on top of my head. "You did great, princess. I'm so proud of you. Wow, what a fireball I married! I hate it when people like him think they can treat others like garbage."
My grandmother cleared her throat, and we all looked over at her expectantly. "I am proud too, cara mia. It must have been difficult not to want to slap the head off Mr. Moron."
We all laughed.
Brian folded his arms over his chest and gave me a shrewd look. "I hate to be the one to burst your bubble here, Sally, but do you realize what you've done? If the other gunman was watching, you and Mike have just put yourselves in grave danger."
Mike put his arm around my shoulders, and I snuggled against him. "If he takes the bait, we'll be ready for him. Grandma, maybe you should go back home."
"
Bah," she snorted. "I am fine. Do not worry about me."
"You guys are going to need police protection," Brian remarked.
Mike frowned. "We'll be fine on our own. If we see anything suspicious, we'll call for help."
Brian sighed as he ran a hand through his thick blond hair. "No. Sally tried something like this before, remember? And it almost got her killed." He glanced out our front window. "Maroon is re-running the interview at six o'clock tonight, right? Most people watch the news during their dinner hour after work. We'll get a car over shortly afterward to keep an eye on your house. I'd say sooner, but we don't have any spare officers available this afternoon. You should be okay till then." He looked over at my grandmother. "Is that your Buick on the side of the road, Mrs. Belgacci?"
Grandma Rosa glanced up from her crocheting. She was finishing up a white sweater and matching hat for Gianna's baby. Gianna had asked for it, wanting to bring the baby home from the hospital in something special, and my grandmother had been happy to oblige. "Yes," she said. "I can move it across the street if it will be in your way."
Brian scratched his head thoughtfully. "Perhaps down the street a bit. It may look better if the gunman thinks no one else is here." He turned to Mike. "Your truck is in the garage?"
Mike nodded. "Yeah, Johnny drove it home for me after the robbery the other night. I haven't been in it since." He heaved a long sigh. "I've got to clean out my toolbox on the back… That thing has been a mess for months. At least it will keep me busy for an afternoon. Especially since I won't be good for anything else for a while."
I kissed him on the cheek. "Stop talking like that." I noticed that Brian's face turned red as he watched us. Jeepers, did I have to feel guilty about kissing my husband now too?
"There's a gun stashed away in the bottom drawer of our dresser," Mike volunteered. "I can still manage it left handed if needed."
Brian rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I remember about your gun. You took it with you when you left town after Colin was killed. By the way, that didn't make you look very good."
Sprinkled in Malice Page 17
