“I know the apartments you’re talking about,” Grandpa said. “I saw on the news yesterday that they burned down.”
“Are you sure you don’t recognize the name?” I prodded. “For a second there you looked as if you were going to say something else.”
“Well, here’s the thing … .” Grandpa broke off and tilted his head back, as though searching through old memories. “I did know a Jay Truman, now that you mention it.”
“You said you didn’t.”
“Well, it was thirty years ago,” Grandpa explained. “I didn’t immediately remember him, but I’m pretty sure I know the guy you’re talking about.”
“How can you be sure?” I challenged. “That has to be a common name.”
“Yes, but I saw his photograph in the newspaper this morning and it looked familiar. I didn’t read the full story because I was in a hurry, but now that you’ve mentioned the name and I’ve had a chance to think about that photo, I definitely think that’s the same Jay Truman I knew back in the day.”
I leaned forward, officially intrigued. “Okay. What have you got?”
“He worked for Sandusky Sanitation.”
I blinked several times as I ran the information through my head. “I guess I’m not sure what that has to do with anything,” I said after a beat. “Why is that important?”
“Sandusky Sanitation doesn’t exist any longer – it’s been sold at least five times the past thirty years – but back in the day it was supposedly run by the mob.”
I held up a hand to still him. “Wait … why would the mob want to take over a sanitation company?”
Grandpa gave me a pitying look. “Oh, you’re so young.”
“I’m not that young.”
“Fine, you’re stupid.” Grandpa’s eyes lit with amusement as I glared. “The mob often hides what it’s doing in sanitation companies. That’s a known fact.”
That didn’t make much sense to me. “Don’t you have to actually pick up garbage if people contract you to do that job?”
“Yes. But it’s easy to launder money through a sanitation business because you can make up fake clients. It’s also easy to travel to different parts of the area without garnering attention because no one wants to look at a garbage truck. Oh, and there’s also that pesky business of hiding a body. Owning the company that buries garbage when trying to dump a body is pretty much a necessity.”
I could see he’d given it a lot of thought. “And you think Jay Truman worked for Sandusky Sanitation?”
“I know he did,” Grandpa replied. “He used to come in the restaurant once a week. Every Friday he would meet a local guy – Pete Cox, I believe his name was – for breakfast. They would eat, have coffee and talk in the corner. When it was time for the meeting to break up, Pete would hand Jay a brown paper bag and they would go their separate ways.”
I was officially dumbfounded. “You let the mob do business in your restaurant?”
“I let two guys have breakfast in my restaurant and talk about whatever they wanted to talk about,” Grandpa clarified. “It wasn’t my business.”
“Still, I wouldn’t think you’d want to get involved with that.”
“That’s why I didn’t say anything to them,” Grandpa said. “If I’d warned them to stay out, that would’ve been getting involved. I simply pretended I didn’t know what they were doing.”
“I guess.” I scratched the side of my nose as I considered my current conundrum. “I don’t even know that Jay Truman’s death was planned or anything. It could’ve been natural causes or a result of the fire. I’m not working, so I haven’t seen the autopsy results.”
“And yet something inside is urging you to take a closer look,” Grandpa noted. “Why do you think that is?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Well, you might want to give it some thought.” Grandpa squeezed my shoulder before he groaned and got to his feet. “You also might want to give the idea of being yourself some thought. I know you don’t want to hear it, but that’s clearly what Eliot wants.”
“But … why?”
“Because he wants his mother to get to know the real person he’s fallen in love with.”
“She won’t like me. Mothers don’t like me.”
“Eliot likes you. All his mother has to do is respect you. I’m fairly certain you can pull that off.”
“I think you might have more faith in me than I deserve.”
“And I think you’re feeling sorry for yourself and I don’t like it.” Grandpa turned stern. “Suck it up and be yourself. You’ll be better in the long run for it.”
I could only hope he was right.
8 Eight
Eliot’s truck was already in the lot when I parked at the chophouse. I ran a brush through my hair, checked my makeup in the mirror, and then forced myself to walk the distance between my car and the entrance, even though every instinct inside screamed that I should make a break for it.
I stopped by the hostess stand and volunteered the name of my party, hoping I didn’t look deranged as she gave me a once-over before leading me to our table.
“Are you with the guy who made the reservation?” she asked as we navigated through the restaurant.
“Yes.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Why?”
“He’s hot.”
“Oh.” I smiled to myself, genuinely amused. “He’s definitely hot.”
“He seems nice, too.”
“He has his moments.”
“How does he look naked?”
The woman’s blunt question caught me off guard, but I had to give her props for getting to the heart of matters. “Sonnets should be written.”
“That’s what I figured.” The hostess made a face. “Your party is right there. I’ll send the server to get your drink order.”
“Thank you.”
Eliot’s attention was on his mother when I caught sight of him. His face was impassive and he intently listened as the woman spoke. I couldn’t see her face because her back was to me, but she looked like the sort of woman my mother would love. Maggie Kane’s hair was perfectly coiffed even though she’d spent two hours on a plane. Her outfit was straight out of the Ann Taylor Loft catalog. Suddenly I felt way underdressed.
“There she is.” Eliot beamed when he saw me and got to his feet.
Even if I wanted to run, it was out of the question now. I had to face my fears and meet a mother I couldn’t control. To be fair, I couldn’t control my own mother either. I do know every button to push to drive her insane, and she often storms off in the middle of a fight because she can’t take another second of my mouth. That’s not exactly the same as controlling her in my book.
“Hey, Trouble.” Eliot greeted me with a quick kiss and hug – something told me he needed the physical contact to anchor himself – before releasing me and pointing toward his mother. “Mom, this is Avery Shaw. Avery, this is my mother.”
I smiled at the woman, hoping the expression came off as genuine rather than deranged. “Hello, Mrs. Kane.” I wiped my sweaty palm against my slacks before extending my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Eliot’s mother stared at my hand for a beat before shaking it. I didn’t miss the way her eyes roamed up and down – or the way she lingered over my hair, which was a bit wavy thanks to the humidity – but finally she broke out a warm smile. “You can call me Maggie.”
“Oh, well … .” I wasn’t sure I felt comfortable with that.
“Please, I insist.” Maggie beamed, patting the spot between her and Eliot so I could sit. “I was starting to wonder if you were coming. I didn’t want to accuse Eliot of making you up, but he’s been talking about you for a full year so I was hoping you were real.”
“Oh, well, I’m as real as they come.” I swallowed hard as I sat, my mouth suddenly dry. I grabbed the glass of water in front of me and gulped half of it down before continuing. “So … um … how was your flight?”
Eliot narrowed
his eyes, something unidentifiable passing over his features. Whatever it was, he opted to keep it to himself. “Mom’s flight wasn’t the best.”
“It was terrible,” Maggie agreed. “First the flight was delayed because it was top heavy.”
“What? Did you have strippers on the plane or something?”
“Excuse me?” Maggie knit her eyebrows. “I don’t understand.”
Eliot smothered a laugh behind his hand as he handed me a breadstick. “It was a joke, Mom.”
“I don’t get it.”
I was mortified. I’d barely met the woman and my mouth was already out of control. Who makes a joke about strippers being top heavy two minutes into an initial meeting with a significant other’s mother? Me, that’s who. “It wasn’t funny anyway.”
“Oh, well, where was I?” The look Maggie shot me was full of puzzled curiosity. “Right. The plane was top heavy, which meant people had to stow their suitcases underneath the plane. No one wanted to hand over their carry-ons, so we sat on the runway for an hour until enough people volunteered.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’d think they would stop people from bringing further carry-on luggage aboard once they hit their limit.”
“You would think,” Maggie agreed. “Still, it’s not the end of the world. We made it in the air – and there was a fair bit of turbulence – but we landed safely and Eliot was waiting for me at baggage claim. It’s so good to see you, honey bunny.” She instinctively leaned over the table and grabbed Eliot’s hand so she could give it a good squeeze.
I arched an eyebrow. “Honey bunny?”
“That’s what I called him when he was little.”
“It’s … cute.”
“Didn’t your mother have a nickname for you when you were younger?” Maggie queried.
“Yes, I believe it was ‘Avery Shaw, wait until your father gets home.’ At least that’s what I thought it was until I was old enough to figure out what she was saying.”
Eliot pressed his lips together as his hand moved to my back. He seemed to be enjoying himself, which was more than I could say for me.
“Well, that’s nice.” Maggie’s smile was thin and tight as she reached for a menu. “So … what’s good here?”
“Everything is good,” Eliot replied. “Avery and I eat here a couple of times a month. She loves the crab legs and prime rib. I love the prime rib, and surf and turf. There’s a bit of everything.”
“And what are you having tonight?”
“I’m having the prime rib,” I answered automatically. “I’m in the mood for a big serving of beef.”
Eliot winked in a suggestive manner. “I’m sure you’ll get what you want.”
I realized after the fact what I’d said and chewed on the inside of my lip. “I didn’t mean … .”
Maggie ignored Eliot’s flirting and barreled forward. “Oh, they have turkey. I think I’ll have that without potatoes and with an extra serving of vegetables.”
“Why wouldn’t you want the potatoes?” I asked.
“Because of the empty carbs.”
“Right.” I was decidedly uncomfortable. I never considered things like carbohydrates, gluten or sugar. I was much more of a “eat whatever you want and worry about it when you hit forty” person. “That’s a good thought. I’ll consider it for another time because I definitely want the potatoes tonight.”
“Me, too.” Eliot’s fingers were light on my back as he attempted to soothe away my discomfort. “So, what did you do today, Trouble?”
Uh-oh. That was a loaded question. “We don’t need to talk about me.” I let loose a dismissive wave. “We can talk about me any old time. We should talk about your mother’s plans.”
Eliot was instantly suspicious. “You didn’t tick off the cops, did you?”
“The cops?” Maggie’s meticulously penciled-in eyebrows floated higher on her smooth forehead. “Why would you tick off the cops, dear?”
“Avery has a certain … um, way … about her,” Eliot gritted out.
“I can guarantee the cops aren’t after me.” I smiled sweetly. It was rare I could make that statement and be certain it was true. “Tell me about yourself, Mrs. Kane. Er, I mean Maggie. Do you still work? Are you retired?”
“I never worked,” Maggie replied, her lips curling. “I married Eliot’s father right out of high school and then I made it my mission to provide a warm and loving environment for my family.”
That sounded like my worst nightmare. Sure, I knew there were people who got off on things like that. I wasn’t one of them. “As long as you were happy.”
“I was definitely happy. I was also good at my job.”
“I thought you said you didn’t have a job.”
“Some people think that raising a family and providing a stable home is a job,” Maggie pointed out.
“Oh, right.” Huh. I couldn’t imagine spending all my time cleaning a house. Spending five minutes with the feather duster was pretty much my limit. “Like I said, as long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”
“When Eliot’s father died he left us well set,” Maggie explained. “I didn’t need to work. That allowed me to donate my time to charities and social groups once Eliot got older.”
“Social groups?”
“Mom is a big fan of the DAR.”
I pursed my lips. “Is that like DARE? Do you help DARE programs in schools or something?”
“No.” Maggie turned prim. “DAR is the Daughters of the American Revolution.”
“Is that like a cult?”
Eliot snorted as he grabbed his glass of wine and sipped. “No, Avery. It’s a social group for people who are descendants of Revolutionary War soldiers and families.”
“And what do they do?”
“They drink tea and gossip, as far as I can tell,” Eliot replied without hesitation.
“Eliot!” Maggie was scandalized. “We do so much more than that. We have a variety of charitable organizations.”
“Of course you do.” Eliot tipped his wine glass in my direction. “Do you want to risk the backwash and take the edge off?” It was clear he was already frazzled. I rarely saw that in him. I was determined to remain calm.
“I’m good, thanks.” I offered him a smile as I rested my hand on his knee under the table. He was bouncing his leg so industriously I was afraid he was going to lose control, kick out, and knock over the table. “I had some iced tea with Grandpa about thirty minutes ago. I’m good for a little bit.”
“You saw your grandfather?” Eliot was back to being suspicious. The moment it happened, his leg stopped moving, as if the idea of me being in trouble was somehow calming. “Are you sure the cops aren’t looking for you?”
“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes. “I ran into him and Mario outside Kohl’s. I was going in because I needed something. Their food truck was outside.”
“Really?” Eliot wrinkled his nose. “Why would the mall owners let them sell outside when it takes business away from the restaurants inside?”
“Because Grandpa has dirt on the owner.”
“Of course he does.” Eliot grinned, seemingly relaxing as the server stopped by long enough for us to place our orders. When she left, I turned my attention back to Maggie and found her watching us with keen interest.
“We were talking about the Daughters of the American Revolution, right?” I prodded, hoping to turn the conversation back to something that Maggie would enjoy. Talking about Grandpa’s food truck seemed a risky gamble.
“I don’t think there’s much to say about the DAR,” Maggie replied, her eyes widening when I took one of the breadsticks and dipped it in the butter sauce at the center of the table. “Do you know how bad that is for you?”
Eliot cleared his throat, his discomfort returning. “Mom, Avery is allowed to eat whatever she wants. You’re my mother, not her mother.”
“Does your mother allow you to eat like that?” Maggie asked.
“Oh, well, food is one thing m
y mother never gave me grief about,” I answered. “She gave me grief about most everything else in my life, but we’re a restaurant family. I grew up eating whatever I wanted because we ate most of our meals at the family diner.”
“Oh, yes.” Maggie perked up. “Eliot told me. You have regular meals with your family, don’t you?”
“Every Friday.”
“Every Friday?” Maggie seemed confused. “I don’t understand. Why do you eat with Avery’s family every Friday?”
“Because that’s simply the schedule we’ve fallen into,” Eliot replied.
“And if we don’t, my mother will hunt us down and kill us,” I added. “Presence at family dinner is mandatory.”
“Mandatory?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand.” Maggie tilted her head to the side, something about the shift in her demeanor setting my teeth on edge. I was missing something, and I really hate it when that happens. “I haven’t seen my son in more than two years, but you see her family every week?”
Uh-oh. I stepped into it this time. “Well, that’s not fair to Eliot,” I offered quickly. “I’m the one who has to go to family dinner. He accompanies me because he doesn’t want to give them time to hide my body.”
“That will be enough of the jokes, Avery,” Maggie warned, her gaze dark as it snagged with Eliot’s. “You told me you were busy building a new business and that’s why you couldn’t come home.”
“That’s true,” Eliot said. “I am building a new business. I’m focusing on security rather than the shop.”
“That doesn’t explain why you can’t come home,” Maggie challenged. “In fact, I don’t understand why you couldn’t start your new business someplace else … perhaps even closer to me.”
“I know you don’t understand that.” Eliot sucked in a calming breath. “Do you really want to get into this now?”
“I think now is the perfect time to ‘get into this,’ as you put it.”
I made a move to slide out of my seat. “I think I’ll just run to the restroom.”
Eliot’s hand was warm as it landed on the back of my neck. “Sit down. This isn’t going to turn into a thing like it would with your family.”
On Deadline & Under Fire Page 8
