Death of the Family Recipe (A Scotti Fitzgerald Murder Mystery Book 3) (23 page)

I pushed my flour-coated hair off my face. "How can you look so good when I look so bad?"

He grabbed me and plastered kisses all over my sticky face. "You sure do taste good."

I swatted him. "Let go of me, I stink of cake and custard."

Ted bent his head to my belly. "Hey kids, tell Mommy we love the stink of cake and custard. And pie and cookies and cobbler and..."

Laughing, I pushed him away from my belly. "Okay, enough belly talk. I get it, you love the smell of dessert."

Ted untied my apron and pulled it off, then kissed my neck. "I’ll be happy to volunteer for back washing detail."

I stared at the kitchen door. "So, I’m allowed to go out there?"

Ted nodded, and I wasted no time pushing through the door. Nothing in the dining room. Nothing in the living room. Nothing in the entry way. Everything looked exactly the same. I did a full circle turn. Ted chuckled at my confusion. "What did you do?"

He led me to the stairs. "You’ll figure it out."

I ran ahead of him upstairs to check the spare rooms but didn’t find a new nursery or anything else. I gave up and stomped into the bathroom and closed the door. Ted knocked. "Need any help in there?"

I turned on the shower and peeled off my sticky clothes. "Yeah, fire up the grill and start dinner. Because I’m not cooking tonight." I stepped into the steamy water. "And throw some corn on there while you’re at it."

Ted opened the door a crack and stuck his head into the steamy room. "Nope."

I stuck my head out the shower. "What do you mean, nope?" Ted came into the room and pulled off his sweater. "What are you doing?"

He took off his shoes and socks. "I’m going to help you."

"I don’t need help, I need dinner."

He dropped his jeans and stepped into the shower. "I’ll tell you what." He slipped his arms around my waist and pressed against me. "How about you help me with one more little project then I’ll take you to dinner?"

I leaned back into his embrace. "What kind of project?"

He kissed my neck. "A husband and wife project."

<<>>

After a big steak and lobster dinner, we drove by a Christmas tree lot and decided to stop. The crisp air smelled of pine, sawdust and cinnamon and that sweet Christmassy feeling welled up inside me. You know the way you feel when you see those really sentimental Christmas card commercials? I rubbed my belly and stepped into a future where my kids were hanging stockings and putting out cookies and milk for Santa. And Ted and I were up late putting together bikes and dollhouses. Ted pulled me out of my Christmas fantasy and said, "How about this one?" He held out a ten-foot Noble with beautifully spaced branches and silvery green needles.

"That’s one big tree."

Ted grabbed the tree by its trunk and shook it. "It’ll look great in the living room, by the fireplace."

He was right, it would look great by the fireplace, especially after it was strung with lights and hung with ornaments, reflecting the light from the fire." She’s a beauty. Your heart’s really set on that one, huh?" Ted nodded like a big kid. I put my arms around his waist. "Then that’s the one we should get." Ted gave me a smacking kiss on the lips, then called the attendant, who was happy to sell us one of the most expensive trees on the lot. While we waited for the tree, I snuggled into Ted’s arms. "I’ve been thinking about Ingrid."

Ted’s body tensed. "Why?"

"I don’t know. I keep expecting her to jump out of the bushes at me."

Ted lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. "She’s not coming back."

I shivered. "I just feel her. Around. Creeps me out."

Ted bear-hugged me. "It’s not her — she’s not out there." He hugged me tight. "You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you." He kissed the top of my head. "And I’ve got five brothers for back up if anybody tries."

I sighed and put my head on his chest. "Okay." Then I said, "Joe wants me to do more work on the Atkinson case." Ted said nothing and I looked up. "Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard you."

"Nothing to say for yourself?"

His eyes were black emeralds in the moonlight. "You know where I stand on the subject."

"It’s sitting at the table during jury selection." I hugged him tighter. "Nothing hazardous." Ted remained silent and I frowned. "I like it better when you argue with me."

He sighed and stroked my hair. "In one of those baby books that you’re pretending to read, they say it’s important not to upset expectant mothers."

I stood back and smiled at him. "You’ve been reading the baby books?"

Ted smirked. "One of us has to."

I looked around the lot wondering how long it took to prepare one Christmas tree. "Well good," I finally said. "Then I don’t have to."

Ted laughed. "So you’re admitting you haven’t read any of them?"

The attendant approached us, carrying the tree. "Look, the tree is ready."

When Ted parked in the drive, I hurried out of the car to open the front door. He caught me by the arm. "Wait a minute." He pulled a remote out of his pocket and clicked it. My whole house lit up in sparkling Christmas lights. "Surprise."

I squealed and jumped up and down. The old house twinkled like a Christmas tree in an old-fashioned card. No Santa’s, snowmen, giant candy canes or rooftop reindeers – just a web of twinkling white lights strung at the eaves and roofline and laced through the trees; punctuated with huge silver and gold Christmas bulbs. Ted slung his arm around my shoulders. "What do you think, wife?"

I hugged him. "I wish the babies were here to see it."

He hugged me tight. "Next year."

I rubbed my belly and stepped into that future Christmas again and smiled.

Sunday, we finished trimming the tree, and it was so pretty that we decided to eat dinner in the living room every night until we took it down. I dug into my boxes of Christmas decorations and added a wreath on the door, my angel collection on the mantle, a few throw pillows and a red plaid sofa blanket. And Christmas was alive and well in the Jordan house. And then the weekend was over, and we went back to the non-Christmas portion of our program.

After Ted went to work, I called Matt to cancel our lesson. Joe had the day free, and we were working Rose’s case, so Matt would have to wait to show me his doughnut filling skills. "But dude I practiced all day yesterday. And I think I got it — it’s all in the wrists. Am I right?"

"Sorry buddy but I have to hit the malls for Christmas gifts."

"I’ll go with you."

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Because Christmas is the magical time of secrets, right?"

Matt chuckled. "Ah, yeah. Right. So tomorrow then?"

Joe pulled into my drive and honked the horn. "No, Wednesday. Gotta go." I hung up before he could interrogate me about Tuesday.

I went out the door and rushed down the walk to Joe’s idling Lincoln. "’Bout time you came out."

I buckled up. "Good morning to you too, Gramps." I cranked my hand. "Let’s go."

Our first stop was Burbank to meet with Detective Nelson Marley — the man who investigated my kidnapping and oddly enough Rose’s murder. Now retired, he lived with his son and daughter-in-law in a nice ranch style house on Sparks Street.

Marley was a husky black man whose eyes reminded me of Muhammad Ali. I guessed him to be in his seventies, but he was spry and fit. His daughter-in-law brought us coffee, then left us alone in the den. His case files and notes sat on the coffee table. Marley sat in an old leather recliner, and we took the sofa opposite him. He waved a hand at the files. "That’s everything. Help yourself."

He couldn’t stop staring at me, and I smiled at him. "I look a lot like her, don’t I?"

Marley nodded. "Yes, ma’am."

Joe got busy with the files and made notes while I simmered over with curiosity. "It’s really nice of you to let us see the files. But do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Marley shrugged. "I’m here. You might as well."

"Why didn’t you believe Rose about the kidnapping?"

Marley raised his bushy white brows and chuckled. "You don’t waste no time getting to the point, do you?" I waited for an answer to my question. He scratched his jaw with a big rough hand. "Because her story didn’t make sense. Wasn’t no proof or evidence."

I frowned. "No offense but wasn’t finding evidence your job?" Marley squirmed. I flapped a hand. "Okay, sorry, never mind. It’s just from what I can tell, Rose didn’t seem dishonest. But you thought she was the kind of person who’d make up a story like that?"

Marley and Joe exchanged a brief look that was some kind of cop code, then he sighed. "Thirty years on the Force, I heard a lot of stories — most of them lies. And hers wasn’t much of a story."

I held his brown-eyed stare and refused to be intimidated. All cops were stubborn in my experience, and Marley was no exception. "Maybe Rose’s wasn’t much of a story because that’s all she knew. She was relying on you to help her?"

Marley rested his elbows on his knees. "Maybe so, but she didn’t give me nothing to go on. Look, things ain’t as simple as you think — especially back in those days." He looked to Joe for commiseration. "I was one of four black detectives in the house. I couldn’t afford to make a mistake — you understand? The evidence or the lack of evidence is more like it, showed the kidnapping story was highly unlikely."

I smirked. "So going along to get along was more important than a stolen baby? Marley stared but said nothing. I changed course. "But you never found any evidence against Rose, right? That she was lying?"

"No, ma’am."

"And obviously, you never found me."

"No ma’am."

I checked the notes I’d made earlier. "I don’t understand something. You knew about the baby that was left at St. Daniel’s. I saw the note in the file. Why didn’t you ever follow up on it?"

Marley scratched his chin. "I went to that church. I talked to the priest."

I fanned my arms. "And?"

He was a surly bear and my questions the stick that poked at him. "He knew Rose Hanson. Said he knew the baby too, and it wasn’t the same one." He shrugged. "No reason a priest would lie is there? And that baby was left at the church three days later." He looked away. "Time line didn’t fit."

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry. "Except that baby was me. You don’t think that I’m someone else’s daughter, do you? I’ve seen pictures of Rose – I look just like her."

Marley ran a hand over close-cropped silver hair. "You do and no doubt, you are her daughter." He held my gaze. "Priest said Rose was grieving about her boyfriend’s death." He pursed his lips and shrugged. "I took him at his word."

"But what does that mean? That because of her grief Rose faked a kidnapping and abandoned her baby?"

Marley sighed and clucked his tongue. "Ma’am, hindsight is twenty-twenty. I look at you now, and sure, I’m thinking you were her little girl. You don’t just look like her, you sound like her. Hell, you act like her too if you want to know the truth. But there wasn’t nothing I could find to support her story." He raised a finger. "And I did try for all the good it did me." His eyes reddened. "I’m sorry for what you and Rose went through. And my part in it. But I can’t go back in time and change it."

A flicker in his eyes said he was holding back. "You
never
believed her? Even later, when she came to you asking for leads?"

Marley blew out a sigh and squirmed. "I wondered, if she did it and got away with it, then why’d she keep pestering me?" He shook his head. "But by then it was too late. Nobody knew what happened to you — or if they did, they were keeping their mouths shut."

I was dancing on the edge of maintaining his cooperation and irritating the shit out of him, but I couldn’t stop myself. "So there was somebody you thought was holding back. Somebody who knew what happened to me?"

Marley sucked in his lips and looked away. "Just a sense of something – a feeling."

"Tell me. Please"

He shook his head. "Wasn’t nothing I could prove. But it bothered me. The friend and the sister."

I leaned forward and gripped the edge of the coffee table. "Jennifer and Kathy? What bothered you about them?"

He hunched a shoulder. "Both of them told the same story – a little too much the same, if you get my meaning. Like they got their story straight ahead of time."

I made a face and shrugged. "They went to a movie together, it wouldn’t surprise me if they told the same story. More or less. Did they say something else that made you suspicious?"

"It ain’t what they said, ma’am – it’s what they didn’t say." I raised my brows to prod him. "Neither one of them defended Rose." He waved an arm around the room. "If it was me. My sister? I’d be defending her. I’d never let her get in the box with a couple of D’s. I’d try to protect her. You understand what I’m saying?"

Thoughts of confronting my aunt twirled in my head. "They didn’t stand up for her?"

Marley twitched with irritation. "They had an alibi. Went to the movies, had the ticket stubs ready to show us and prove it. Said Rose was in bad shape, probably not ready to be a mother." He shrugged. "Does that sound like them standing up for her?"