by Tessa Kelly
Kathy raised a warning eyebrow at him, but Dad just shrugged. “So? That wasn’t a crime.”
“You also had one too many pints that night,” Jeff muttered.
“All right, Jeff.” Dad threw him a dark look.
Jeff didn’t stop there. “And you fell over on your way home and had to be taken to the ER to get stitches.”
Dad’s hands gripped the edges of the table. “So I did. You trying to tell me something there, Jeff?”
On my left, Dora suddenly blanched and stared at Dad as if seeing him for the first time.
“Yeah. I am.” Jeff pointed a finger at him. “Who had to take you to the hospital that night? Me and Kath, that’s who. We’d missed a night of deliveries—that’s money we won’t get back. All ‘cause of your stupid antics, old man. You better straighten up, if the police don’t put you away again. Your family’s not going to sort out your messes forever.”
Dad rose from his seat. I quickly stepped between them, my hands out to stop the impending fight.
“Dad, please. Don’t.” I turned to Jeff. “That’s enough. It happened once, and I’m sure Dad’s not proud of himself, but you’re making it sound like he does this sort of thing all the time.”
“Oh yeah? What do you call getting himself thrown in jail for murder? Who has to sort it all out now? The family, that’s who.”
“Stop it, Jeff!”
Everyone turned to Kathy in surprise. Her lips trembled and large tears had pooled in her eyes. “I don’t see you sorting anything out,” she said. “My father was set up, he’s innocent. You should be supportive like the rest of us, but all you do is throw accusations around and stir up trouble. You’re making things harder on everyone. If you can’t help, then at least be quiet and stay out of it!”
Swinging on her heels, she threw open the door and was out before anyone could stop her.
We stared after her in astonishment. I’d never heard Kathy raise her voice at her husband before. What must’ve been going on at home between her and Jeff that it would drive my quiet sister to such an outburst in front of everyone?
Jeff watched the door for a moment, then turned and stormed into the back.
“I should go after Kathy,” I said. But as I moved toward the door, Lauren rose from the table.
“No, Sandie. I’ll go. I think it would be better for her to talk to a non-family member right now.”
Dad nodded. “Thank you, Lauren. That’s very kind of you.”
She gave him a faltering smile, then quickly went out. I watched her go, wondering how much of her hurried retreat was motivated by the desire to escape Dad’s presence.
Dad looked behind him and frowned. “Where’s Dora? I was going to offer to walk her home.”
“She was just here.” I took a peek in the back where Jeff sat brooding by himself. “She must’ve left during the fight,” I said, remembering Dora’s paleness when all the shouting had started.
“Heck. Who can blame her?” Dad shrugged and scratched the thick stubble on his chin, but his face showed signs of chagrin. Perhaps, this ordeal with the police was making him reevaluate his relationship with Dora. Did he finally realize she wasn’t going to wait forever?
“You could give her a call and make sure she got home safe,” I suggested.
“Yeah?” His eyebrows drew together in a tight line. “You think she still wants to hear from me?”
“You’ll never know unless you try.”
He sighed. “Maybe we’ve all had enough drama for one night. What do you think, kids? Shall we close this joint and head home?”
While the others wiped the tables and chairs, Valeria, Josh, and I put away the food. Jeff finally came out, but instead of helping, leaned against the wall by the door and waited with his back to everyone. As we climbed outside, he turned off the lights and pulled down the grate, locking it for the night. Without a glance at us, he headed for his car down the block.
Will clicked his tongue. “Nice. Didn’t even offer the girls a ride home.”
“That’s fine, we can walk,” Felisha said. She turned to Tyrone. “It’s not that late. We could stop by the bar and hang out...if you want.”
“Sounds mighty fine, girl.” Tyrone grinned and put a hand around her waist.
With a wave to us, the two of them headed down the street to Luce della Vita.
I smiled. It looked like Felisha found a way to salvage her romantic evening after all.
“How about I give you all a ride?” Will said. “My car is just around the corner.”
His phone pinged, and he frowned. “Sorry, spoke too soon. It's the precinct, there's a robbery in progress. I gotta head, guys.”
“That's okay, just be safe.” I followed him with my eyes, anxiety squeezing my throat, as he walked away at a brisk pace. My little brother, always running towards danger.
Dad patted my back. “He'll be alright, Sandie. Your brother's got a good head on his shoulders.”
“Yeah, he does.” I chose not to remind him that lots of good, level-headed cops were killed in the line of duty each year. With everything on Dad's mind, it was just the sort of fact he could do without.
The rest of us walked to the end of the block where Josh shook Dad’s hand. “See you tomorrow, Nick.” He gave me his usual curt nod, and he and Valeria headed straight.
Dad and I turned left and walked up the street.
“What's happening tomorrow?” I asked when we were out of earshot.
“I told Josh he can work an extra night at the shop,” Dad said. “I've no head for running it right now, and the guy really needs the money.”
“That’s good. Maybe he'll straighten things out in there. The place is a mess, Dad.”
“That it is. But you know something? I kind of like it that way.”
I smiled. “Yeah. I guess I do, too.”
As we came to my building, I turned and looked him in the eyes. “Will you be okay tonight? I could come over and stay with you.”
His eyes narrowed. “What, you're going to babysit me now? Figure your old man can’t be alone anymore?"
"Of course not, I just..."
He waved me off. "I'll be fine. Besides, I’ve got Marlowe and the cats to keep me company.”
“Uh, no. You don’t,” I said, remembering about the zoo upstairs. “Since I’ve been taking care of them it was easier to transfer them over. I’ll run up and get them. Or you can come up with me. It might take a while to get Asimov and Hemingway into the carrier.”
Dad rubbed his chin with a slight grimace. “Just get Marlowe. The cats can stay with you for now. And Hemingway you can keep, he’s not much company anyway.”
Marlowe was ecstatic to see Dad, and he showed it by leaping at him with lots of yapping and tail wagging.
"Holy mackerel!" Dad crouched down beside his dog and buried his face in his neck, then scratched him behind the ears. "You silly guy. It's so good to see you!"
The first genuine smile since the murder lit up his face, crinkling his eyes. It almost made me feel like everything was right with the world again.
Dad rose to his feet. "Thanks for taking care of him, kid."
"Anytime, Dad."
I watched them walk together to the corner, and went inside.
As I came upstairs, my phone vibrated with an incoming call. To my surprise, it was Dora.
“Hello, Sandie.” Her voice trembled, which was unusual for her.
“Dora, are you okay? What’s wrong? You disappeared from the bakery.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Are you still there? Is Will with you? I really need to talk to him, but I don’t have his phone number.”
“Will’s been called away on a case,” I said. “I just got home myself.”
“Oh.” I could hear her heavy breathing on the other end. I frowned.
“Dora, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk to me?”
“I... yes. Can I come over?”
“Now?” I glanced at the time. It was half past ten.
>
“Please, Sandie. I think it might be really important. I’m leaving my house, I’ll be over in five minutes. Sandie?”
She sounded close to panic. My pulse picked up the pace. “Is this about Dad?”
“Yes... I can’t remember, but I think it was the same day. I kept thinking he was there, but I just realized he wasn't. I’m almost sure... why hadn’t I put it together sooner?”
“Put what together sooner?” I strained to make sense of her confused mumbling. "What are you talking about?"
“Sorry. This isn't a phone conversation, I’d rather talk face to face. Sandie? Are you there?”
I realized I'd been nodding, forgetting she couldn’t see me. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Come up when you get here.”
Asimov was rubbing against my leg and purring loudly. I picked him up and headed into the kitchen. Seeing how agitated Dora had sounded, it was probably going to be a while before I went to bed that night. Which meant, I needed coffee.
Ten minutes later, I sat at the kitchen table with the steaming mug in front of me and waited.
And waited.
And waited...
Chapter 10
Someone shook me awake. I opened my eyes and stared into Felisha’s worried face. Her eyebrows pinched in concern.
“Sandie, what’s going on? Why are you sleeping at the table?”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to get my bearings. Morning light streamed into the kitchen window through the light curtains. It cleared the fog from my mind.
“Dora!”
I sat up with a start.
“I was waiting for her last night. She called me when I got home, said she needed to talk. But she never showed up. I guess I fell asleep waiting up for her.”
Then I noticed Felisha had on the same clothes as the night before. “Hold on. You went out with Tyrone last night. Are you just getting home now?”
She nodded, grinning, but rolled her eyes as my mouth opened wide. “Sandie! It’s not what you think.”
“It’s not?” I narrowed my eyes at her with suspicion. Then my stomach growled.
Felisha laughed. “I'm hungry, too. I’ll make us breakfast, and then I’m going to bed. So glad I’m not working today! I can barely keep my eyes open.” Talking over her shoulder, she took out the eggs from the fridge and cracked six of them into a bowl. “So, after we left you guys, Tyrone and I played pool at Luce della Vita for like two hours. We had so much fun that we ended up going to a dance club in the city, and we stayed there till closing. Tyrone is a totally great dancer! We’re going out again this weekend. Hey, Sandie? Can you make coffee while I do the omelets? Sandie! Are you listening to me?”
I looked up from checking my phone. There had been no more calls from Dora, which was strange. “Sorry. Of course I’ll make coffee, I just need to wake up first.”
I went into the bathroom down the hall and splashed cold water on my face. Then I headed out onto the balcony to water my herb garden.
As always, the activity brought with it a welcome distraction from my worries. I inspected the plants, satisfied how well my little garden had grown in the three months since I started it. The mint and rosemary were getting too bushy for their pots and would need to be replanted soon, and the fragrant lavender was drawing in butterflies. Even Felisha's poinsettia I'd trimmed in May was beginning to show tiny new shoots. Come Christmas, it would look beautiful and leafy again.
Back in the kitchen, I opened the fresh bag of beans and poured a generous amount into the coffee grinder. As the rich, invigorating aroma filled the kitchen, my thoughts turned, as they often did at these times, to dad's favorite fiction detective.
In the books, the best and most compelling characters were the complicated ones, and Philip Marlowe was no exception to that rule. Tough and rugged, Marlowe was everything the detective of the thirties should be. Used to getting tossed about and cracked on the head by both the thugs and the police, he often had to forego sleep and safety in the pursuit of the bad guys.
In all of that, the one thing Marlowe never went without was breakfast. In particular, coffee, his constant companion. His ritual of brewing the stuff, the “lifeblood” as he called it, was as thorough and constant as was Marlowe’s neglect for personal safety. Coffee was his anchor, a grain of normalcy in the otherwise surreal and often sordid life of crime solving. If it did so much for Marlowe, I had to hope it would do the same for me and help me solve this convoluted case.
The coffee made, I poured myself a cup and sat at the table, staring at my phone. “I don’t get it. Dora was on her way over last night. She sounded like she had something important to tell me about the case. Why didn’t she come?”
Felisha placed a Western omelet in front of me. “Maybe she changed her mind?”
“Then why didn't she call? No, that can't be it. You didn’t hear her on the phone. She sounded really upset.”
She shrugged. “What else can it be, though?”
“I don't know.” I sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Have you tried calling her?”
“No. I fell asleep.” I took a sip from my mug, grateful for the caffeine jolt as the coffee traveled into my stomach, piercing the fog in my brain. I reached for my phone again. “I’m going to call her and talk her into meeting up with me before work. Whatever she knows, I’ve got to find out. I feel it's important.”
I dialed Dora’s number. It went straight to voicemail. Had she turned off her phone? I hoped it wasn't because she was avoiding me.
Getting up, I rubbed my neck, sore from sleeping at the kitchen table, then made a decision. “I’m going on the offensive. I’ll take Marlowe out for a walk, and we’ll go by Dora’s house. She’ll have to talk to me, she can’t avoid me forever.”
To my surprise, Marlowe didn’t come running when I called him. Then I remembered. “Oh, never mind. Dad took him back with him last night.”
Felisha’s face fell. “I thought he might stay with us for one more day. Are the cats gone, too?”
As if in answer, Hemingway and Asimov sauntered into the kitchen. Hemingway leaped onto the windowsill and sat with his back to us, his tail swishing. Asimov bee-lined to Felisha and weaved between her legs, purring loudly. Felisha sneezed. She grimaced. “Where’s that allergy medicine?”
While she went to root for it in the bathroom, I dialed Dora’s number again, with the same result as before.
“This is so frustrating! I’ve got to talk to her, she can’t avoid me forever.”
“What are you going to do?” Felisha called from down the hall.
The decision was obvious. “I’ll go over to her place anyway and ring the bell until she opens.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” She came back, her face etched with worry.
“Yes. As soon as I freshen up and change. If Dora knows something, she’s going to have to talk to me.” I downed the rest of my coffee in one gulp and headed for the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, I pulled on a light top and a pair of linen capri pants. I was wrapping my peach scarf loosely around my neck when my phone rang.
Was it Dora calling to explain why she failed to show up last night? I scrambled for the phone, only to be disappointed.
“Oh. Hey, Will.”
“Sandie, where are you?” The urgency in his voice made me frown.
“Just heading out. Why?”
“Stay where you are, don’t go anywhere. Detectives Greene and Carver are on their way to see you. I just heard, thought I should warn you.”
I blinked. The detectives handling Sonny’s murder were coming to see me? “Why do they want—” The doorbell rang and I swallowed. “Never mind. I guess I’m about to find out.”
Felisha beat me to the door. She looked into the peephole and turned to me with widened eyes. “It’s two guys I’ve never seen before. The angry one is holding up a police badge.”
I remembered that Felisha wasn’t at Luce della Vita the night of Ang
ela’s wedding reception. She wouldn’t know what Greene and Carver looked like. The angry one had to be Greene.
“Let them in,” I said.
Detective Greene entered first. His mouth tight, he gave our hallway a sweeping look, stopping briefly on Felisha and coming to rest on my face. He had the sort of deep-set eyes that seemed incapable of missing a detail.
Detective Carver nodded a greeting to us as he followed Greene inside. Unlike his partner, he was clean-shaven and had a forehead that didn’t look like it was in the habit of frowning. He was sipping a large berry smoothie through a red-and-white straw.
“Miss James, there’s been another murder,” Greene said. “A body was found in the park early this morning. We’re here to ask you what you know about it.”
Breathing suddenly became a chore as the pieces of a gruesome picture came together in my mind. Though I was pretty sure I knew the answer, I still forced out the question.
“Who?”
“Dora Novak. I believe you know her?”
Felisha gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.
My head spinning, I leaned against the wall. “How did she die?”
Greene's eyebrows drew together. “Miss James, we’re here to ask the questions, not answer them.”
There was a pause during which he continued to stare at me with a look that must’ve meant to unsettle.
I refused to be unsettled. After all, my brother was a detective, and police didn’t easily intimidate me. If Greene was going to barge into my home and disrupt my day, he would have to drop the tough guy act.
Detective Carver chimed in, “We don’t have the autopsy reports yet. So far it looks like she’s been strangled.”
“Oh.” I stared at the floor, my mind a white blanket of shock.
“She had her phone with her,” Carver continued. “The thing is—”
“Let me guess,” I said. “I was the last person Dora called last night.”
“Yeah,” Greene said. “So, where were you between the hours of eleven and one in the morning?”
My eyes flew up to him in shock I couldn’t hide. “Wait. You think I did it? Am I a suspect?”
