A Stitch to Die For (An Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery Book 5) (11 page)

“I hope your gut is right, Sherlock.”

I sighed. “That makes two of us.”

My stomach submitted its own two cents on the subject. Cloris raised an eyebrow. “Skip breakfast again?”

“Why should this day be any different from all others?”

“I dropped off two dozen raspberry duffins in the break room and made a fresh pot of coffee right before you arrived.”

“Duffins?”

“The newest craze sweeping the foodie world. They’re a cross between a donut and a muffin.”

“First the cronut, now the duffin? Sounds like my waistline is about to expand another size.”

“Not quite. Duffins are a lot less fattening, only about two hundred-fifty calories each. Cronuts are fried and run over thirteen hundred calories a piece.”

I mentally calculated the number of cronuts I’d consumed since Cloris first introduced me to them last year. “Over thirteen hundred?” I groaned. “One damn cronut contained an entire day’s worth of calories. No wonder I can’t lose weight.”

Cloris shrugged. With her metabolism she didn’t have to worry how many cronuts or duffins she consumed. She never gained an ounce. Damn her! “Consider duffins a diet food,” she said. “At least when compared to the cronut.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Starve?”

“Probably.” I left Cloris and headed for the break room to snag a duffin and a cup of caffeine before my coworkers beat me to it.

I’d just shoved the last crumbs into my mouth when my office phone rang. I quickly took a swig of coffee to wash down the duffin before answering. “Anastasia Pollack.”

“It’s Ardith down in reception. There’s a man here to see you. Says he’s your brother-in-law.”

There was only one reason why Ira would show up at my office—to strong-arm me into packing up and heading west to settle down at his McMansion until the police caught the killers. “Not gonna happen,” I muttered under my breath.

“Sorry?” said Ardith. “I didn’t catch that.”

I sighed. “Tell him I’ll be down shortly.” When I heard the click on the other end of the phone, I slammed the receiver into the cradle.

“I heard that,” yelled Cloris from across the hall. “Do I need to remind you of Trimedia’s ‘you break it, you buy it’ policy?”

I crossed the hall and poked my head into her cubicle. “Do me a favor?”

She swiveled her desk chair around to face me and nodded.

“If I’m not back in ten minutes, call down to reception that I’m needed ASAP at a meeting.”

Cloris raised both eyebrows. “What’s with the cloak and dagger?”

“Ira’s downstairs, and I have a pretty good idea why.”

Cloris chuckled. “Your mother is relentless.”

“Mama doesn’t like not getting her way.”

“Never fear. Cloris to the rescue.” She glanced at her watch. “In T minus ten.”

“Thanks. I owe you.”

I opted for the stairwell over the elevator, figuring I might as well kill off a few of those duffin calories along the way. Although, running down two flights of stairs wouldn’t come anywhere near burning off two hundred-fifty calories, I rationalized that some exercise was better than no exercise.

When I arrived at the reception desk, I found Ira schmoozing Ardith. “Has he tried to sell you a car yet?” I asked.

“I do need one,” she said, “but I hate dealing with car salesman.” She smiled and batted her false eyelashes at Ira. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He looped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Anastasia will vouch for my character.”

I cocked my head up toward him. “The only honest used car salesman in the country?” I asked.

“You said it.” He grinned. “And I didn’t even have to twist your arm.”

I turned to Ardith. “If you really do need a new car, you’re probably better off dealing with Ira than anyone else.”

“Thanks,” said Ira. He glanced down at me and grimaced. “I think.” Then he reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulled out a business card and handed it to Ardith. “Call me. You won’t regret it.”

“What brings you all the way out to Morris County?” I asked Ira—as if I didn’t know.

He took hold of my elbow and guided me across the atrium, out of earshot. “We—your mother, Lawrence, and I—believe you’re not thinking rationally.”

“Really?” I shrugged out of his embrace and faced him, my arms crossed in front of my chest. “Why is that?”

“You know why. You’re placing yourself and your family in danger, Anastasia. I have to insist you move everyone into my house until these people are caught.”

Apparently Ira had learned we were dealing with two separate killers. Mama and Lawrence probably also knew by now. I envisioned my street currently crawling with news vans and reporters knocking on doors soliciting sound bites. With any luck, they’d be gone before I returned home tonight.

I raised both eyebrows. “You insist?”

His voice filled with frustration. “Please be reasonable!”

“First, I’m not putting my family at risk. There is absolutely no indication that someone is randomly targeting people on my street.”

“How can you be sure?”

“It’s what the police believe.”

“The police aren’t always right. You more than anyone should know that.”

“All the evidence supports their theories regarding both murders.”

“And if their theories are wrong?”

I sighed. “Patrol cars are canvassing the neighborhood twenty-four/seven. With the police still investigating both crime scenes, my street is the safest block in the state right now—probably the entire country. Besides, the killers may never be caught. Not all murders are ever solved. You want six permanent houseguests?”

“Six?”

“Me, Alex, Nick, Lucille, Mephisto, and Ralph.”

Ira shrugged. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“We would.” Not to mention how his three juvenile delinquents would react to the invasion.

“I’m not uprooting my family just so you, Mama, and Lawrence can sleep better at night,” I continued. “The commute would be a nightmare. The boys and I would have to get up before dawn to get to school and work on time, and we wouldn’t arrive back at your house until eight or nine o’clock each night. I’m not putting myself or my family through that stress. We’ll take our chances in our own home.”

Ira threw his arms up in frustration. “But—”

“But nothing, Ira.”

Across the atrium I heard the phone ring. A moment later Ardith called over to me. “You’re needed upstairs for a meeting.”

“I have to get back to work,” I told Ira, “and I’m sure you do, too.”

He grasped my upper arm a bit too tightly. “Please be reasonable. I’m worried about you.”

I pried his hand from my arm, patted the top of his hand, and offered him a smile. “We’ll be fine, Ira. Trust me. You know I wouldn’t knowingly risk my family’s well-being.” Before he could answer, I pivoted on my heels and scurried down the hall to the stairwell.

Behind me, I heard him whine, “Anastasia, please!”

I raised my arm over my head and waved without turning around.

“Do you think I’m being reckless and jeopardizing my family’s safety?” I asked Cloris when I returned upstairs.

“Truthfully?”

I studied the expression on her face. “You do, don’t you?”

Cloris shrugged. “I don’t know. I understand your reasoning, but I also understand your mother’s concern.”

“My mother, Lawrence,
and
Ira. They’re ganging up on me with a three-pronged assault and dumping a huge guilt-trip on me.” Now it looked like I could also add Cloris to that list. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

She didn’t hesitate with her answer. “I’d do whatever was necessary to keep my kids safe.”

“You don’t think my kids are safe?”

“I don’t know. Are you willing to take that chance?”

I sighed. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, but there’s no way I can move everyone to Ira’s place, and I can’t afford a hotel or temporary rental.”

“If I had the room—”

I waved away the suggestion. “Thanks. I know you would if you could, but I wouldn’t impose on our friendship in that way.” Still it was nice of her to offer. Not that it was really an offer, given that Cloris had downsized to help pay for her daughter’s college tuition. I couldn’t help laughing, though.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just picturing Alex, Nick, Lucille, and me all squeezing onto the pull-out couch in your den.”

“That I’d like to see.”

I headed back to my own cubicle and spent the remainder of the day mulling over my conversation with Cloris and trying not to worry about what might happen next in my neighborhood. Was I really letting my feelings about Ira jeopardize my family’s safety, or was everyone else overreacting? My gut believed we were completely safe. But what if my gut was wrong? Was I willing to take that chance?

By quitting time I had reluctantly reached an unpleasant decision. If I arrived home that evening to discover more mayhem had occurred on my street, I’d pack up everyone and move to Ira’s home until the killer or killers were caught. However, accomplishing such a move would necessitate bribing my sons, not to mention hogtieing Lucille because none of them would go willingly. Then, once we arrived at Ira’s McMansion, I’d constantly have to sit on my hands to keep from strangling his bratty kids. Or maybe not. Lucille might club them to death with her cane before I had the chance.

I held my breath and worried my bottom lip the entire forty-minute drive home from work. While sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, I reached another decision: it was time to shell out money I didn’t have in order to provide my sons once again with cell phones—for their safety and my peace of mind.

When I finally turned the corner onto my street, every neuron in my body exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Not only did I find no new crime scenes anywhere in sight, but my relief increased exponentially when I saw Zack’s silver Porsche Boxster parked in my driveway.

As much as recent past experience has taught me I shouldn’t put my trust in, nor rely on, anyone other than myself, I have to admit I felt much safer knowing Zack had returned from his date with a dead Grecian queen’s tomb. More recent deaths weighed heavily on my mind, and I knew I could count on Zack to be the voice of reason when it came to Mama’s plea that I pack up everyone and move to Ira’s house.

What I hadn’t counted on was Mama getting to Zack before I had a chance to speak to him.

EIGHT

Zack must have been listening for my car. As I turned into the driveway, I saw his apartment door swing open. Then, in the glow of the outdoor security lights, I watched as he bolted down the steps. Before I removed the key from the ignition switch, he yanked open my driver’s side door. One look at the expression on his face, and I knew he knew about the murders on the block. He confirmed this by yelling, “What the hell is going on here?”

“Nice to see you, too,” I said, stepping from the car.

He shook his head once before pulling me into his arms and capturing my lips with one very long and desperate kiss.

“Who spilled the beans?” I asked when we both came up for air.

Zack continued to hold me firmly against his chest as though afraid to let go. “Your mother left a frantic voice message on my phone. I didn’t see it until I switched planes in Heathrow. She said there was a serial killer loose in the neighborhood and he’d already struck twice. I tried calling. When you didn’t answer, I spent the entire flight back to Newark sick with worry.”

I have to admit, my heart did a little flip-flop knowing how much he cared. With Karl, I’d learned too late that I’d always played second fiddle to that very demanding and fickle mistress of his, Lady Luck.

I fished my phone out of the bottom of my purse and tried to turn it on. “The battery died.” I sighed. “Yet again. The charge isn’t holding for more than a few hours lately.” Thanks to corporate greed, which builds planned obsolescence into every appliance and electronic gadget known to mankind, nothing lasts more than a few years these days. “I suppose I’ll have to buy a new battery this weekend.”

“A new battery will cost nearly as much as a new phone. You need to replace that dinosaur.”

I tossed the dead diplodocus back into my purse. “I can’t afford a new phone. I’ve already decided the boys can’t go on without phones, especially now. I don’t have the money for three cell phones, let alone the monthly fees.”

“You can’t afford not to replace your phone. It’s as much a safety issue for you as it is for the boys. I’ll buy you a phone.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Yes, I will. Consider it part of my rent increase.”

“I’m not raising your rent.”

“Then consider it a no-interest loan, an early birthday present, a way to protect my own sanity, or all three.”

“Your sanity?”

“Hell, yes. I aged ten years during that flight back from London.”