Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (13 page)

I was so relieved to see him, but when I opened my mouth to explain, I just came unglued and started sobbing. He rushed into the room and held me. "Scotti, what happened? Talk to me."

<<>>

I awoke in bed — Ted’s hushed voice coming from the hall. "Ted?"

He appeared in the doorway and nodded. "Okay, thanks." He put his cell in his pocket and came into the room. Sitting down next to me, he stroked my forehead and said, "Feeling better?"

I sat up. "Who was that? On the phone?"

"Zelda." He kissed my forehead. "I’m sorry baby, I didn’t know Ingrid would pull a stunt like that." He pulled off his shoes and socks. "Even for her that was bold."

"Didn’t you?"

He pulled his shirt out of his trousers and unbuttoned it. "What?"

"You called her a black-hearted bitch. You had some idea of what she’d do."

Ted finished undressing and got into bed with me. "Yeah but not something like this."

I hugged my knees. "Ted what did this woman do to you?"

He looked away. "I told you – she cheated on me. Slept with my best friend for pay back."

"For what?"

He turned to me and sighed. "For joining the service and going to Iraq." He grunted. "Guess she thought it would make me quit and run home to her." He pulled me down next to him and slipped his arms around me. "Tomorrow we’ll change the locks. I’ve got a guy who can do a fence around the house. She’ll never get in here again."

I raised my head and stared at him. "No. I don’t want to live in a prison because of your crazy ex girlfriend."

He propped up on his elbows. "So this is my fault?"

I sighed. "I’m not blaming anybody. I’m just saying that locks and gates won’t make the problem go away."

He lay back. "We’ll get a restraining order, too."

I snuggled into the crook of his arm and kissed his neck. "She did something to you, didn’t she? Something you don’t want to tell me?"

Ted ran his fingers through my hair and looked at me for a long moment. "She’s a troubled woman."

My whole body tensed and I frowned. "How troubled?"

Ted stared at the ceiling. "More than I thought."

The next morning, the locks were changed, the security system code was reset and only Ted and I had the keys and the code. Instead of fencing in the whole property we had an electronic gate installed for the backyard that was programmed into the existing security system. And Dan promised we’d have a restraining order by the next day.

While Ted handled the gate and security guys, I spoke with Glendale police detective, Peter Thompson. Thompson scratched his chin as his disinterested eyes lazed around the room. "Did she take anything?"

"No."

"Did she destroy any property?"

"No."

"Did she threaten you?"

I sighed. "She said it wasn’t over."

"What did she mean by that?"

I shrugged. "I’m not a mind reader. You’d have to ask her what she meant."

He puckered his lips. "But you felt threatened?"

"Do you have a wife, detective?"

He cocked his head and finally looked at me. "Yes, ma’am."

"If your wife were home alone and she discovered your ex girlfriend inside the house — would she have felt threatened? Would she have been upset or frightened? Afraid her life might be in danger?"

The detective nodded. "Point taken." He made notes in his notepad. "Address?" He looked up. "We’ll need her address to bring her in for questioning."

I slumped. "You aren’t going to arrest her?"

"That’s up to the D.A." He frowned at his notes. "We have no evidence, no sign of a break in, no property damage or injuries."

I smirked. "You don’t believe me?"

Detective Thompson smiled. "For the record, yes I believe you. But, our justice system requires evidence." His pencil poised over his pad he asked, "Do you have Ms. Sorensen’s address?" I gave him the contact information we had for Ingrid. Then he closed his notebook and stood. "We’ll be in touch if anything develops. In the meantime, I’d suggest you consider getting a restraining order."

Ted came into the living room and put his arm around me. "In the works."

Detective Thompson nodded and looked around the room. "You’ve done what you should — changed the locks, your security code — that should be the end of it. But if she makes contact again, call us."

Ted shook Thompson’s hand. "Will do."

Then Thompson left, and I frowned at Ted. "Well that was a big fat waste of time."

He shrugged. "We gave the system a chance." He patted me on the butt. "I’m hungry."

I followed him into the kitchen. "What are you thinking?"

Ted stood at the open fridge moving stuff around. "I'm thinking I could go for a meatloaf sandwich — is there any left?" I nudged him aside and pulled out the meatloaf and sandwich fixings then set them on the butcher-block. Ted grinned and rubbed his hands together. "You want one?"

I nodded and watched him make the sandwiches. "Ted what’s going on in that devious head of yours?"

Ted slathered mayo on four slices of bread. "Melinda knows Ingrid’s family." He cut tomato slices and put those on the bread. Ted flicked me a look. "There are certain pressures she can exert that are more effective than a scolding from the police." He smirked. "One look at Ingrid and Detective Thompson might forget how to write his own name."

I pulled up a stool and sat across from him. "What kind of pressures?"

Ted stacked thick slabs of meatloaf on top of the tomatoes and then covered them with pickles. "I don’t ask." He placed the top slices of bread on the sandwiches and cut them in half. "I just know it works."

I laughed. "You make it sound like Melinda has mob connections."

Ted slid my sandwich to me and poured two glasses of milk. "Connections, is a good word for it." I made a face and cranked a hand — requiring more of an explanation. "My dad was career military, but Melinda grew up in a kind of fancy family. There’s a whole system to that world that outsiders don’t know anything about. Ingrid’s part of that world too. Mom knows which way the wind blows in those circles." He winked. "And how to shift those winds."

I bit into my sandwich — the babies purred and did a happy dance inside me. I nodded. Ted finished half of his sandwich in two bites. "You understand?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Do we have to bring Melinda into this?" He nodded and I sighed. "Melinda’s already on it, isn’t she?"

Ted made a second sandwich and groaned when he bit into it. "Baby, you make the best damn meatloaf."

Proclamations of my cooking prowess was Ted’s way of ending discussions. If I wanted further answers I’d have to go to the source — Melinda. Ted knew I wouldn’t do that. I wasn’t hungry anymore so slid the plate across the counter to Ted. "Still hungry?" No words, just a big hand snatching the sandwich and aiming for his mouth. I rested my chin on my hand and studied him. "Why won’t you tell me what Ingrid did to you?"

Ted wiped his hands on a napkin then finished his milk. He wiped his mouth, balled up the napkin and tossed it into the trash bin. He creased his forehead. "You’re just going to keep after me, until I do, huh?"

I rubbed his arm. "Yeah, I think I am."

He pursed his lips then blew out a breath. "At first it was small stuff — things you could explain away. A look. A tone of voice. Friends suddenly avoiding you. Things go missing but you convince yourself that you lost them." He shrugged. "Things like that."

I tilted my head. "And after the small stuff?"

Ted tapped his fingers on the counter and pursed his lips. "When Tom started seeing Ginny we double-dated a few times. This one time we went to a karaoke bar. It was fun. We got hammered and they got me up on stage." He grinned. "Didn’t know I could sing, did you?"

"No honey, I didn’t."

"Anyway, Tom brought my guitar and dared me to play." He blushed. "I thought I’d be a rock star during my misguided youth." He cleared his throat. "It was late, only a few people in the place. So I played a song I wrote. I was hammered and didn't remember it, but Ginny went on about it the next day when the four of us were at breakfast. A few people came by the table and said some nice things too." He smiled. "It was cool. Made me feel good."

"Sure."

"That night, I woke up to Ingrid screaming. I thought somebody was trying to kill her. So I jumped out of bed, grabbed a baseball bat and hauled ass into the living room."

His eyes got a faraway look in them, like he’d time-traveled back to that moment. "What happened?"

Ted grunted and said, "Nothing. Nobody there but her. She was sitting on the floor and stabbing my guitar with a butcher knife. Sawed off the strings, slashed the body, gouged it." His lip curled in disgust. "Crazy bitch destroyed it."

I shivered at the image of Ingrid murdering Ted’s guitar "Why?"

"It was payback for sleeping with Ginny." He shook his head. "Total bullshit. She knew I wasn’t cheating on her, especially not with my brother’s girlfriend. It had nothing to do with another woman. No, my sin was taking the spotlight away from her." He took my hand in both of his. "You see, babe. Ingrid doesn’t want me, she wants my attention. She wants everybody’s attention. And if she thinks you’re taking the attention away from her, she goes ape-shit."

"Why did you stay with her?"

Ted twisted his lips. "I didn’t much longer. She tried to convince me it was a one-time thing." He shook his head. "But even when you want to believe somebody, sometimes the facts won’t let you." He kneaded the back of his neck. "I joined the Army not long after that." He shrugged. "I knew she’d dump me if I left her for a war." He smirked. "The truth is I felt safer in a war zone than with her in the next room."

I put my arms around him. "So, you really weren’t upset that she slept with your friend?"

He made a sad face. "No, that stung like a bitch. I still cared about her. But any doubts I had about my decision were gone at that point."

I looked at him. "What do you think? Is she just evil or is she sick? Mentally ill?"

Ted shrugged. "I don’t know. She’s done a few rounds of rehab." He smirked. "They called it an eating disorder or body image disorder or some other bullshit." He shook his head. "Drugs. Alcohol. Mind games. You name it, she’s done it. And nothing seems to work."

I sighed and lay my head on his shoulder. "Well, let’s hope Melinda’s brand of whoop-ass takes care of her."

Melinda and Zelda threw me a combination bridal shower and bachelorette party at my house. Ted was banished from the premises until we met at the altar the next day. I cycled between nervous, nauseous and excited. But whenever it got too bad, Zelda smacked me upside the head and stuffed a cupcake in my mouth. Friends, right?

Ever the rebel, Zelda flaunted tradition and put together a treasure hunt as the main event. She drew maps, wrote directions and clues. So, trying to follow her clues, directions and maps, we all tramped through the house as I searched out gifts. Each time I found a gift, the girls downed shots of tequila — Zelda’s favorite rule. And since Zelda’s maps and directions were pretty bad, everybody got increasingly hammered as the search continued. And even the simplest things were hilariously funny. The finale of the evening was Melinda belting out a rousing performance of "Born to be Wild" — karaoke machine included.

But due to the multitude of tequila shots, by ten o’clock the only two people left standing were me and Melinda. Zelda, queen of the tequila shots, slept where she fell, on the chaise lounge, poolside. I covered her with a blanket and went inside.

Melinda, armed with blankets walked through the house, covering passed out guests as though it were normal. Although as a mother of six sons that kind of thing probably was normal to her. She was covering Ginny with a blanket when I walked into the living room. She brushed the hair off Ginny’s face and kissed her forehead, like a mother tucking in her child. I whispered, "Good work, Mom."

Melinda smiled. "Thanks, daughter." She took me by the hand and led me into the kitchen and nudged me into a stool while she made tea. Then we drank our tea and listened to the crickets’ night song and the occasional tinkle of a wind chime. And it was lovely just to share the silence for a moment. "This is nice," I murmured.

Melinda smiled and wiggled her eyebrows. "One more day of freedom."

I chuckled and pointed. "Now I know where Ted got that move from."

Melinda looked into my eyes. "No doubts? No cold feet?"

I shook my head. "Nope. Actually, I miss him."

Melinda liked that. "I’m sure he’s thinking about you too."

I giggled. "I’m sure he’s hammered and passed out on Tom’s living room floor." I slid off my stool and pulled a tray of chocolate sour cream cupcakes out of the pantry. "I had to hide these from Zelda."

Melinda snatched one and bit into it. "Yours are still better than mine. You do something else, don’t you? Something not in the recipe?"

I wiggled my eyebrows. "That’s for me to know and you to find out."