Sandie James Mysteries Box Set

by Tessa Kelly

  “Lucky. For your information, I’m still nauseous from the bouillabaisse you made me last month.”

  “But I thought you liked my food?”

  “I do. Your grilled cheeses are great! I'm just not the biggest fan of the stuff you make from recipes.” Softening at her expression, I added, “Okay. I’m sorry. Tell me what you’re making me this time.”

  For some reason her cheeks, already pink from the heat of the ovens, turned even redder. “I was thinking, jambalaya and a seafood gumbo?”

  “Really? You’re making soul food?”

  Then I understood. My eyes focused on Tyrone mixing focaccia dough at the work station by the window. Tall enough to be a basketball player, the tight white t-shirt he wore accentuated the lean muscles of his arms and torso and set apart his jet-black dreadlocks, tied at the nape with a rubber band.

  At forty, Tyrone looked no older than twenty-eight and had the kind of skin that made him the envy of most women. Catching my gaze on him, he rewarded me with an easy grin and a wink. The combination was disarming, and he knew it. Carried it with him like a colt at the hip, prepared to draw at a moment’s notice.

  Which explained, in part, the three ex-wives and two children.

  Nope. Boyfriend material Tyrone was not. But my long friendship with him extended back to my early college days and the shared memories of late nights spent chasing down our favorite artists at music festivals and reggae bars. Through all that time, we'd never become anything more than good friends. And that was probably the reason why, as Cobble Hill residents went, the guy was still one of my favorite people.

  As for Felisha, once she had set her sights on someone, she wasn’t easily persuaded to give up.

  Maybe, with a nudge from a mutual friend, it just might work out between them.

  I leaned closer to her, making sure my voice wouldn't carry. “Alright, spill it. How many times have you been out together?”

  Felisha squeezed out two more roses on the last cupcakes, put the tray back on the rack and got out the raspberry cheesecake bars that needed to be packed into carton boxes for delivery. Her eyes were lowered, but it wasn’t hard to see they kept straying over to Tyrone’s table. Finally, she looked at me.

  “We've been out twice last week. I thought we had a great time, but now he's barely talking to me. Do you think he's lost interest already?”

  It was possible, knowing Tyrone, but I had a more likely explanation.

  “It could be he's not in the mood to flirt after what happened last night.”

  Felisha gulped. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't even be talking about this now.”

  “Don't be silly! Of course you can talk about it. You're allowed to like a guy. And it's nice to have a reason to think about something else besides murder.”

  “That's true.” Her eyes brightened. “Tyrone must be worried about your Dad. He likes him, right?”

  “They always got along,” I agreed. “Back when Tyrone's first wife threw him out, Dad let him stay at our house for six months rent-free. Tyrone offered to pay, but Dad wouldn't hear of it.”

  “You never told me that.” She pursed her lips. “So for six months he, like, lived down the hall from you?”

  I snorted. “Don't worry, nothing ever happened. He's like a big brother to me.” I took out a stack of flat carton boxes for the Linzer tarts and started putting them together and lining them with the wax paper. “Here’s a thought, why not ask him over? You could make that jambalaya thing for him instead of me.”

  “That was the idea. But I wanted to practice on you first.”

  “Oh, I get that. And I’m so flattered! But... just tell him you need help preparing it.”

  “But I wanted to impress him!” she protested.

  “So impress him by letting him impress you.”

  She giggled. The idea appealed to her. “Do you think it’ll work?”

  “Are you kidding me? You know how much he likes to cook.”

  A smile brightened Felisha's face. “Okay. I guess. I’ll ask him.”

  “Great!” I gave her the thumbs up. “Save me some food.”

  I looked toward the front. Most of the boxes had already been packed, and Jeff was busy carrying them out to his car. He would take them over to Manhattan, to the fancy markets and coffee houses that were my sister’s biggest clients. The remainder of her clientele were the numerous small cafés around our neighborhood. Summer or winter, Kathy delivered to them personally, by bike.

  From where I stood, I had a good visual of the front of the bakery and the sidewalk. I waited for Jeff to get in the car before abandoning my work station, then waved goodbye to Felisha and Tyrone and headed for the front. A moment later, the back of Jeff’s Chevy disappeared around the corner. Behind the counter, Josh had his back to me, busy cleaning the espresso machine. I slipped outside while he wasn’t looking. Since I intended on snooping around, it best he didn’t know where I was going.

  I walked briskly to the end of the block. On account of the murder, Luce della Vita was staying closed tonight, but through the half-opened windows on the ground floor, I could see that the darkened barroom was operational. A couple of regulars were already parked on the high stools at the counter, cradling pints of dark brew in their hands. Cradling, or guarding them against one another. I could never tell for sure which.

  Liam and Alex Sorrento sat in a corner apart from the customers, paperwork spread out before them on the table. Liam seemed to be listing which liquors they were running low on. He looked up as I walked in.

  “Hey, gorgeous! Didn’t think I’d see you in here today.”

  I smiled. “It’s been a tense day, felt I needed a little something to pick me up.”

  “Right on.” He glanced at the papers in front of him. “We’re almost done here, this shouldn’t take more than ten minutes. And then I’m all yours.” He grinned in a way that was slightly suggestive. “Do you mind waiting?”

  “Not at all. Take your time, I’m not in a hurry.”

  Throughout our exchange Alex stared steadfastly at the table. He finally looked up at me. “Hey, Sandie.” His voice was hesitant. “Sorry about your dad. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s hanging in there.” I gave him a tense smile. “We’re all hoping he won’t have to hang in there for too much longer.”

  Not if I could help it.

  Alex nodded, but it was plain to see he was eager to be done with the pleasantries.

  So was I.

  I made a beeline for the furthest end of the bar, strategically choosing it for its closeness to the bathrooms. Perched on the bar stool, I took my phone out and pretended to scroll through my messages. A sidelong glance at Alex and Liam a minute later confirmed they were paying me no more attention. The two regulars at the other end of the counter were engrossed in an animated discussion about the Giants, or something else sports related.

  I stretched and glanced around, affecting a look of boredom, then quietly slid off my stool and ambled toward the restrooms. Pausing in front of the door marked “Ladies,” I looked back. No one was watching me. Not one of them even glanced in my direction. Good.

  Quietly, I slipped past the restrooms and into the adjoining hallway with narrow stairs, which I took to the second floor. From here, the stairs continued up to the canvased roof garden, which usually opened with the warm weather.

  On the second floor was Luce della Vita’s smaller dining room, reserved for private events and parties, as well as the three offices in the back, one for each partner in the restaurant. The ones with David and Sonny’s names on them were locked but, just as I had hoped, Alex’s door stood slightly ajar. Inside, there was a desk and a filing cabinet next to a coat rack in the corner. Several paintings in various sizes hung on the walls, abstract representations of our neighborhood by local artists.

  I made straight for Alex's desk. Ten minutes wasn’t long, but it only took me five to find the folder I was looking for. The partnership contract. A quick glance over the clauses
confirmed what I had already suspected, but I would need to study it thoroughly to be sure. Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I took a photo of the first page.

  “Can I help you with that, Sandra?”

  My stomach did a somersault as I jumped and faced Alex standing in the doorway. He leaned on the door frame, hands crossed over his chest. His dark eyes bored into mine with an expression that spelled out barely contained anger.

  I’d never seen Alex mad before. He looked older, the rough lines in his face far more pronounced as the muscles in his jaw contracted. I stared back, transfixed. Something about his demeanor put me in mind of Tom Reagan in Miller's Crossing. Cool and handsome, but deadly when angered. I swallowed. It seemed pointless to try and make up a story about why I was there.

  Alex’s eyes traveled to the contract. “What are you doing with that?”

  When I didn't answer, he straightened away from the wall and advanced on me, stepping around the desk between us.

  My mouth went dry, but I stood my ground. It would be a mistake to let him know I was scared.

  “I said, what are you doing with those papers?” Alex repeated.

  There was no other way out except to tell the truth.

  Or to confront him with it. After all, it was probable that Alex and his brother were the reason that my dad had to sleep in a locked cell last night.

  I straightened, steeling myself for the fight. “Fine, Alex. I know that you and David wanted Sonny out of the partnership. You were fed up with him, right? You wanted to run this place without his interference, but Sonny wasn’t about to go quietly.”

  Alex's expression didn’t change. “Why do you think that?”

  I tapped the contract with my fingers. “I only got a quick look at this, but I think that when you drew this up you made an oversight. You forgot to make the provision for dissolving your partnership. Which means, the only way to give Sonny the boot was through the courts, and that could get really expensive, seeing how he didn’t want to go.”

  The corner of Alex’s mouth twitched, but not in a humorous way. “I see. So you figured Dave and I wanted Sonny out so bad we were willing to kill for it?”

  “It’s a possibility. In any case, it’s a pretty strong motive. I think the police will agree.”

  “Oh, you do? And you figure we couldn’t find any better way to get rid of Sonny than to pump him with lead under the noses of fifty guests at my own brother’s wedding?”

  Okay, he had a point. I licked my lips. Maybe I was making a huge fool of myself.

  “Yeah, Sonny was a pain,” Alex said. “He was a control freak. Always had to have the final say in every decision, even thought me and Dave were cheating him. We couldn’t keep anything secret from him. Guy seemed to know everything that went on around here, even found out about Dave’s wedding before it was officially announced. He was good at sneaking in and out, too. Just when you thought he was gone for the day, there he’d be, coming out of the cellar or something. It was creeping us out.”

  Alex reached past me and snatched the contract from the desk. He took another step toward me, forcing me to retreat until I was backed against the wall.

  I threw a panicked glance at the door past his shoulder. No way to reach it with him blocking my way. Maybe it was time to start screaming for help. But the only other people in the building were Liam and the two customers in the bar. Would they even hear me over the music downstairs?

  Alex leafed through the contract and threw it open on the desk. “You know something, sister? Maybe you should take a closer look at the paperwork, next time you go accusing people of murder. What’s this? Huh?” He tapped the page with his finger.

  I tore my eyes away from the tense lines around his mouth and looked down to where he was pointing, to the signatures at the bottom of the contract. Or rather, the lack of them. I stared up at him.

  “You didn’t sign it. None of you did.”

  “That’s ‘cause this isn’t the final version. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to keep the real contract in a drawer, where anyone can get at it?”

  Moving me aside, Alex stepped up to the wall and lifted one of the smaller paintings hanging at eye level. Behind it, was a wall safe. Of course. Where else would he keep important documents? I wanted to slap myself for not having guessed it.

  Alex unlocked the combination and took out another set of papers, which he threw on the table in front of me.

  “This is the real thing. Check it out for yourself, and you’ll see. Sonny had no choice but to leave the partnership. It was in the contract.” He flicked the passage on the second page to show me the clause. “We didn’t need to kill Sonny when we could just send him packing.”

  I scanned the clause he was pointing to. It was as Alex said. I closed my eyes, stifling a groan. I owed him a serious apology. Probably, ten.

  “I’m sorry, Alex. Sorry for barging in here and accusing you. I thought, well... you know what I thought. I’m sorry. I don't know what else to say.”

  His expression didn’t soften. “Listen, Sandie. Sonny was no walk in the park, okay? He could be downright obnoxious when he was drunk, and Dave and I were fed up with him. But we had no reason to do away with him.”

  He took the contract from the desk and put it away, locking the safe door. When he turned round to me again, the corner of his mouth was lifted in a derisive smirk. His voice dripped acid as he spoke, “By the way, you know something, Sandie? If you’re looking for other suspects besides your dad, why don’t you ask your sister’s husband what he was doing at the time of the murder?”

  Chapter 8

  “JEFF!”

  As much as I wished to appear calm, I couldn’t keep my voice from rising an octave.

  “What does Jeff have to do with all of this? He never had dealings with Sonny, they barely spoke to each other.”

  Alex's grin turned nasty. “Didn’t you know? Jeff had been trying to get Sonny into a partnership before Dave and I came along. He had these pretty ambitious plans for expanding your sister’s bakery. Well, our better offer got in the way of all that. Jeff’s not a forgiving guy, I’m sure you know. He’s had a monumental grudge against Sonny for choosing us, and for introducing competition to the block.”

  “We’re not in competition with each other,” I pointed out. “We’re too different to compete.”

  “We both serve lunch, don't we?”

  “Yeah. But at very different prices.”

  “That’s true. But that’s just my point. Try telling that to your brother-in-law, he doesn’t see it that way.” Alex’s eyebrows drew together in renewed anger. “When we were just getting started, Jeff used to come in here all the time and tell us we wouldn’t even last a year. Can you believe the nerve? Well, look at us now, going on third year and still doing swell. So, before you go throwing accusations all around, take a closer look at your own family.”

  I stared at him open-mouthed, stunned by his implications. Then I shook my head. “Okay. Maybe Jeff had a grudge against Sonny. That doesn’t mean he killed him. Jeff’s no peach, but he’s not a killer.”

  “But you gotta agree, it’s a motive,” Alex said, folding his arms again. “And I’m sure Jeff knew about your dad having a gun. He would’ve had much better access to it than me or my brother. Am I right? He was also hanging around at the reception that night. He had plenty of opportunities to get down to the cellar and shoot Sonny. So, there you go. Jeff had the motive, he had the means, and he had the opportunity. I think the police would agree that’s what they call a viable suspect.” He pointed at the door.

  “Now, get out of my office. If I catch you in here again I’ll call the police on you for breaking and entering. I’m sure it’ll do wonders for your brother’s career to have both his dad and sis in the slammer.”

  I stepped around him without a word and walked out of his office. Once in the solitary dimness of the empty dining room, I leaned forward on a table and drew a shuddering breath. It did nothing to calm my ne
rves. There wasn't enough air for that.

  Alex’s arguments for serving up Jeff as a new suspect had been too convincing. Perhaps, even more than he knew since Alex didn’t seem to be aware that Jeff didn’t actually own Kathy’s Bakery.

  By the time Kathy and Jeff met, my sister’s bakery was already up and running, and when they married, she remained the sole proprietor. Her husband had no legal share in the business. Knowing this, I sometimes wondered how Jeff felt about it. Possibly, some of his ill humor had to come from his resentment, having to play second string to my sister when he so obviously wanted to be in charge.

  Expansion through a partnership with Sonny would’ve given him that opportunity. New papers would’ve had to be drawn up, making Jeff the bakery’s co-owner.

  These thoughts rushed through me as I hurried down the stairs. All they did was bring more questions.

  If the probability existed that Jeff was guilty of a murder, how would it affect us all? What would happen to the Bakery if Kathy’s husband was sent to prison? Would people still want to come in?

  And what about me and the rest of the staff? If Kathy and Jeff became embroiled in a lengthy trial, would Kathy still be able to afford to keep us on?

  If only I had a job or a business of my own so that I didn’t have to depend on my family so much...

  I stopped in my tracks. Wait.

  Why was I rushing ahead of myself, letting Alex’s words get to me and stir up my fears? Jeff was no murderous maniac. He had nothing to gain from Sonny’s death, and it was doubtful he’d ever kill anyone out of sheer spite.

  Now that I thought about it, something in Alex’s manner had rung false, his anger swinging too far into the defensive, his attack on Jeff a bit too vehement. Could it have been a ploy to draw suspicion away from himself? It was possible. Which meant, I needed to calm down and think things over rationally.

  I started walking again, my breathing easier this time. The foray into Alex’s office hadn’t been a total disaster. I could feel it. I just needed to find out what else he was hiding.