Death among the Roses: a Melanie Hart Mystery (Melanie Hart Cozy Mysteries Book 1) (4 page)

Our host seated us at a table with a flourish. He handed round the menus and told us our waitress would join us shortly. She arrived soon after we were seated and collected our drink orders.

I opted for coffee. The guys went with beer. The young waitress gave us a nod. “Back in a jiffy.” Her blonde ponytail bounced along behind her as she scooted to the bar.

Stepich glanced at each of us in turn. “The steaks here are outstanding. Juicy and thick.”

Devon slapped his menu closed and stacked it on top of is companion’s. “Sounds good to me.”

I don't know why I bothered to check my menu. I always ordered fried chicken at Bella’s. It was the one dish Dad had never mastered. He didn’t like fussing much with hot oil, while Bella made the best fried chicken to be had within a hundred miles.

The drinks arrived. Our dinner orders went into the kitchen. We settled back in our chairs.

“Bella’s quite the star, all right,” Devon said. His glance took in the room around us. “She seems a bit of an odd fit for a town like Cloverton.”

I lifted my coffee cup and shared the family's claim to fame. “Apparently, drama runs in their blood. Bella's the great-granddaughter of the original owner, Jimmy Gioratelli. He was rumored to be a personal friend of Al Capone.”

Wow," Stepich said. “Ties to Capone, no less. And the operation stayed in family hands for all these years? That's really something.”

"It's not that rare. As you’ve probably heard, my father owns the newspaper. The
Gazette
was launched in the late 1850s. Dad and I are direct descendants from the founder. As a matter of fact many of the farmers here worked land bought by their ancestors back then as well."

Stepich displayed a cocky grin. "Yeah, well we New Yorkers go back to the 1630s at least.

Devon looked amused. "Early comers, are you? What about native Americans? I think they might predate you by a bit.”

"Okay, I guess you have a point. My family didn't actually plant our feet on these shores until the early 1900s. But our arrival has served us well
—
especially me. After graduation I moved right into the family’s business. I’m a little like you,” he said, raising his glass in a salute to me.

I felt my face flush. Being the only reporter in a shop owned by my father didn’t necessarily speak well for my journalistic skills. But someday, Dad expected me to take over the paper. My wish to do so was why I’d been so determined to move back home after college. Still, I had to believe the work I did at the newspaper was worthy. That was another reason being pulled off the murder story hurt so badly. I was missing out on an opportunity to prove myself.

Thankfully, Josh and Stepich shifted to business discussions for a while. Then, our food showed up. We all tucked in. The chicken looked and tasted and smelled as good as ever, but I struggled with my appetite. Thoughts of Gary’s body among the roses kept flitting through my mind.

Nearing the end of our meal, Josh paused with a forkful of beef halfway to his mouth. He studied Stepich. “So, can you think of any reason for Gary to have been killed?”

I leaned forward in my chair, eager to hear the answer.

Stepich fingered his beer glass briefly before responding. “I don’t have any ideas to explain what happened. Gary was one of the good guys. We teamed up in college. Stayed in touch all this time. I can’t believe someone as nice as Gary got himself murdered.”

I dropped a French fry I’d been holding back onto my plate and wiped my finger with a napkin. “I can come up with a long list of candidates who might have deserved such a fate. But Gary certainly wouldn’t be among their number.”

“I hear he was working in his father’s bank,” Josh said.

“Yes,” I answered. “His dad was so proud. I guess in that way Gary and I were alike. We both felt committed to the family business. Still, I can’t see what working at a bank would have to do with being murdered.”

“Could he have made enemies there?”

I shrugged. “How would he do that?”

Josh’s brows lowered. “Maybe he turned down a loan application? Denied somebody credit?”

“Those are rather routine actions for a bank executive, and nobody seems to have wiped the others in those kinds of positions out.”

Josh’s expression became even more perplexed. “Was there something in his personal life that might have ticked someone off?”

“I doubt it,” I replied. “Gary was an honorable person. He treated everyone he met with respect.”

Stepich spoke up. “Besides, the two of us were tight. If Gary was worried over something, he would have told me.”

“Did he make friends easily?” Josh asked.

I bit back a grin. “Are you planning to investigate Gary’s murder?”

No wonder Josh hadn’t invited Ginger to this little session
.

Josh grinned. “Not at all. I’m just trying to figure out what went so wrong in Gary’s life that somebody killed him.”

Stepich wiped his chin with his napkin before answering. “I don’t know about his friends here, so much. But he was good with the people at college. He almost never hacked anyone off. Plus, he kept a low profile and minded his own business.”

“In short,” Josh chimed in, “Gary was a saint. Right?”

“I don’t know about that,” Stepich replied. “I’ve never met one.”

Nearing the end of our outing now, I turned the conversation to my major interest. “Tell me," I said, leaning confidentially toward Stepich. "Do you know why Gary left the church so close to the start of the wedding?"

“Yeah." Stepich signaled the waitress and pointed to his beer glass. "He got a phone call. After disconnecting, he took off nearly running down the aisle and out the door."

I put down my napkin, eager to learn more. "Did he say what the caller wanted?"

Stepich shook his head. "Gary said not one word to me. He just took the call and ran for the door at full tilt. Obviously, he was real hopped up over something. His face was beet red.”

Josh returned his beer glass to the table. "You didn't try to stop him?"

"Hey, I was his best man, not his mother. In hindsight, of course… I wish I had."

"You have no idea who the caller was?" I asked.

"Nope. As I said, Gary didn't say word one. He just left me standing there.”

“What time did the call come in?” Josh asked.

Stepich shrugged. “I never checked my watch. We got to the church way early. The call might have happened as soon as a half hour before the shindig was due to kick in.”

"Was Gary nervous before the call?" I pressed.

Stepich gave me a disbelieving look. "Well, sure. He was about to tie the knot, you know? Why wouldn't he be on edge? I can tell you I would be."

I listened to this man's words and wondered how Gary, or at least the Gary I knew, could have selected Stepich as his best man?

Still, even given that weakness, Gary as a murder victim made no sense to me.

Maybe Ginger had been right. Maybe the two of us should do what we could to help unravel this mess.

I’d seen Cordelia. She was reeling. Someone needed to hunt down the killer quickly. A speedy resolution to Gary’s death might help her move past her trauma, or at least that’s what I told myself. If Ginger and I could hurry along the investigation, maybe we should get involved. And what had earlier today seemed a lunatic idea, now appealed to me.

I needed to get back in touch with Ginger, pronto.

G
inger turned out to be as accessible as I’d hoped she'd be. Within twenty minutes of being dropped off home, I was at her place. She lived on Elm Street in a 1960s ranch house. Ginger might pursue dreams of conquering every available man, but when she turned her mind to the business aspects of life, she could be frighteningly practical.

Now, she opened the front door of her home and welcomed me inside. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, but her hair still bore the marks of the special arrangement she’d had done up for the wedding. It had been elegant and gorgeous like the woman whose head it topped. But now parts of it had somehow slipped a bit sideways. A hymn to the trauma we’d endured on this frightful day, I ruefully thought.

“Follow me,” she said as she lit out for the kitchen at a fast clip.

The living room she led me through was modern and sleek and looked barely lived in. Everything in the room was useful and tasteful and appeared to have cost her top dollar. Colors were crisp. The atmosphere formal. Ushering me into the kitchen now, she nodded toward a chair, and I sat

Copper highlights from the overhead lighting glinted off her messy tresses. Dark circles showed beneath her hazel eyes. I doubted she’d gotten any rest since I last saw her. But then for that matter, neither had I.

“Just think,” she said, “if things had gone as planned tonight, we'd be dancing and dining and having a blast. Instead, we're moping around here.” She glanced about the space, her face a vision of distaste. She returned her attention to her duties and poured us each a coffee. “Anyway, what’s up?” she asked setting a mug in front of me.

“I think you might have had a valid point earlier.”

“About what?” Ginger asked, sinking into her seat.

“About our investigating Gary’s murder.”

Her face broke into a happy grin. Her expression was so infectious, I even found myself smiling in return.

She lifted her coffee mug and toasted us. “Oh, goody. You and me working together. This is going to be a blast.”

“That’s hardly how I’d describe it. Gary’s dead. There’s a killer on the loose. This is serious business we’re about to embark on.”

My friend’s brows drew into a puzzled frown. “So, why the change of heart?”

I expelled a lungful of air. “I stopped by Cordelia’s house on the way home from the church. She’s in a world of pain.”

Ginger scoffed. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t already know.”

“Then, when I had dinner with Josh and Tony Stepich tonight, I realized Gary’s death really does revolve around our world, the people we know. Gossford’s a good lawman….” Ginger opened her mouth to protest. I raised a hand to cut her off. “But as you noted, he’s at least thirty years older than we are. He doesn’t understand us or our friends or our ins and outs. Now, do you want to know what I learned?”

She nodded. “Do I!”

“Apparently, Stepich misbehaved somehow at the bachelor party.”

Ginger stared at me in disbelief. “Now, there’s a news flash. Most men do. It’s what those things are for. Get men too near a wedding, and they need something to put them out of their misery.”

I shrugged. I doubted it was that straight forward. “Anyway Stepich’s behavior was so extreme it captured Bella’s attention.”

“Bella, huh? And you know this how?”

“She made a comment at the restaurant tonight.”

“So what did Tony do?”

“Bella didn’t say. But Stepich’s face turned thirteen shades of red when she mentioned remembering him from the party.”

“So you figure we need to find out what happened?”

“It wouldn’t hurt. It might be nothing. On the other hand, if we uncovered something it would be more than we currently know.”

Ginger gave me an appraising glance. “I’m friends with Julie Croft. She’s a waitress out at Bella’s. Julie might have a handle on what happened.”

“Do you think she’d talk to us?”

“She might. I’ll give her a call.” Ginger rose from the table, crossed the room, and pulled a phone book from a kitchen drawer. She dialed, listened briefly, then said, “Julie, how ya doing? Listen, I’ve got a question or two I’d like to drop on you. Could you possibly meet with me sometime tomorrow?”

After a brief silence, Ginger flicked a glance my way. “In the morning? At Howies?” She looked askance at me.

I nodded.

“Okay then. Ten’s fine?” Ginger’s gaze again sought mine.

I nodded.

“Look, is it okay if I bring Melanie Hart along with me?”

I held my breath.

“Nah, she’s not looking for something to put in the newspaper. This is strictly between you and me and her.”

Ginger turned to me and gave me a thumbs up.

I assumed all systems were go and did a happy dance inside.

“Good,” Ginger said, smiling. “We’ll see you tomorrow at Howies.”

I sat back in my chair, impressed at how smoothly this effort had gone. Maybe Ginger and I had a chance at succeeding after all.

“Anything else?” Ginger asked me as she slid the phone book back into the drawer.

"Yes. I was wondering what you can tell me about Tony Stepich?”

Ginger returned to the table and sat. “Like what?”

"I don't know. Maybe what you think he's like. Why you think Gary chose the fellow for his best man? And whether you know if there was any trouble between them?"

"Sheesh," she said, "I wasn’t expecting you to grill me."

“It’s just that Stepich didn't seem like someone I'd expect Gary to hang around with.”