The Focaccia Fatality (2 page)

Off the hook for the moment, I breathed a sigh and joined Samantha in the shop. She’d begun to bag rolls as she did every day. While I stared out the front windows, I heard her say, “Something bothering you today, Melina?”

“Not really, I’m simply wondering if we can manage getting through the holidays without a catastrophe of any kind,” I said with a grin as Samantha plunked three bags of rolls into a basket.

With a chuckle, she said, “You’re too funny. I’m sure we’ll be so busy, we won’t have time for murder and mayhem.”

I nodded and went toward the kitchen. I’d reached the swinging doors when a customer entered. I glanced back and stopped short. Detective Porter Anderson stepped inside and gave me a wide grin. Relief that this wasn’t an official visit swept over me and I smiled in return.

“Hey, Porter, good to see you,” I said.

“You, too, Melina. My mother called and asked if I’d get some rolls for her, so I figured I’d stop by and see what you have left.” He eyed the offerings and plucked a piece of focaccia from the basket. While he studied the variety of breads, he munched the focaccia and took more.

When he’d placed his order, Samantha bundled the bread into a paper bag and readily took his money. I told her to include a loaf of focaccia at no charge. A look of surprise crossed her face, but she nodded and added the loaf while Porter insisted it wasn’t necessary.

“Just take the bread,” I remarked dryly. “Otherwise, you’ll only be on the back doorstep later filching a sandwich made from it.” On more than one occasion the detective had come to the shop to question me concerning his investigation, only to end up eating half of a sandwich I’d made for myself.

He laughed, nodded, and asked if he could speak with me privately. Motioning him into the kitchen, I sat on a stool near the table filled with cookbooks and he took a seat across from me.

“What can I do for you?” I asked warily. It was unlike Porter to say he wasn’t here on business and then ask to speak in private.

“The department is having a holiday party this weekend. I wondered if you’d accompany me?” he asked sheepishly.

“You want me to go to your party?” I asked with surprised pleasure.

He dipped his head and said, ‘If you’re not busy, that is. Or engaged to the Scotsman, or whatever.”

I shook my head. “I’m definitely not engaged to anyone, and I’d enjoy being your date.”

His face lit up as he smiled, which brought a light chuckle from me. “Great, I’ll pick you up at eight on Saturday night.”

“Good enough. I’ll be ready,” I said and watched him leave by way of the front door.

My spirits soared as I considered an evening out with a nice guy, who was a bit on the shy side, except when it came to police business. Filled with excitement, I rushed out the back door along the railed deck that ran the length of the building and quietly opened the door to BettyJo’s tarot card shop. I listened a moment to see if she was in the middle of a reading. The shop was silent, so I entered and called her name.

BettyJo Seever and I had been friends for years. While I’d become a bread baker, BettyJo had realized she had a knack for reading tarot cards and telling fortunes. Coincidentally, we ended up next door to one another. Her Tingly Tarots shop was well known and frequented by everyone from the rich to the middle class, and even high school and college students came for readings. Her popularity never waned, no matter the time of year.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and I looked up. Garbed in her tarot reading attire, which gave her a gypsyish appearance, BettyJo seemed to drift into the room. Her willowy figure was surrounded by black and purple gauze-like material with tiny golden stars and moons printed it. Wrapped around her forehead lay a deep purple band of velvet embellished with sparkling beads.

I grinned and said, “I’d guess you’re reading today.”

She nodded and swirled in a circle. “This is my new outfit. Do you like it? The old one was getting a bit worn around the edges.”

“Very nice, I like it a lot. The style becomes you.”

“Thanks. What brings you over?” BettyJo asked.

“Porter just stopped by.” When BettyJo’s face paled, I shook my head and said, “It’s not what you think. No crime has been committed on our watch. He simply wanted to ask me out.” I giggled as if I were a fifteen-year-old asked to the prom by the football team captain.

BettyJo gasped. “Get out, really? I told you he liked you, didn’t I? What did you say?”

“I said I’d be delighted to go to the party with him,” I said with a sniff. “After all, Aidan has made it quite clear he’s no longer interested, so why the hell not get on with my life, right?”

With a sad look, BettyJo said, “True, but I know you aren’t taken with Porter like you are with Aidan. It’s really Aidan’s loss, Melina.”

The doorbell chimed as clients entered BettyJo’s sitting area. She glanced over her shoulder and then at me and murmured, “I’ll come over after they’ve left. We’ll grab a bite to eat, if you can, that is?”

“Sure thing. See you later.”

*    *    *

My mood light, I left Samantha to handle the shop and straighten the kitchen while I rifled through my closet for an outfit to wear on my date. Shopping isn’t my strongest area of expertise. That area would be bread making. I dreaded going to malls and wandering aimlessly from one store to another without the slightest idea of what to buy. Slumped against the door jamb, I gazed at the array of clothing that did nothing to make me want to wear any of it to a party with Porter.

I leaned into the closet, peered toward the farthest end of it, and locked my gaze onto the least likely, but most tempting of outfits. I pulled the rich red dress, layered with sparkling stones across the bodice, off the rack and sized it up. I’d bought it in January when stores were attempting to unload their stock. Not only had I saved a lot of money on the purchase, but I’d felt excited about the sensual, sexy look of the fabric that clung to my skin, when I’d tried it on in the store. My usual clothing choices were less close-to-the-body than this, due to fluffiness at my waistline. I draped the dress against me and gave it the once over in the full-length mirror that hung on the closet door. This was exactly what I’d hoped to find among my belongings. I quickly tried it on and realized it fit me better than it had when I’d bought it.

There’s nothing like involvement in two murder investigations, and a grandmother who consistently walks on the wild side, to cause a girl to lose a bit of weight. I twirled in front of the mirror, studying the drape as I moved. Satisfied, and happy to not have to shop for a dress, I hung it up and skipped down the stairs and into the kitchen.

After the bakery was closed and Samantha had gone for the day, BettyJo sauntered in. Chatting, we walked up the street to Mack and Mutt’s sandwich shop on the corner of our row of shops. I mentioned the dress I planned to wear and asked to borrow some jewelry from BettyJo to complete the look I wanted for the party.

Excitedly, she said, “I have the perfect set. You’ll love it. When we get back, I’ll bring it over.”

Mirrors tell no lies. The red dress fit so well, I realized how nice it is when a curvy girl finds apparel that doesn’t fight with her figure. I tend to eat bread, and exercise is the last thing on my agenda.

I turned this way and that, admiring the dress and jewelry BettyJo had graciously loaned me. The chain was gold with rich ruby colored stones tucked into it. The largest of the stones was in a setting that pointed into my cleavage. The total look caused excitement to race through me. I turned around once more for a rear view as I heard a loud knock on the downstairs door. My apartment is above the bakery and the staircase is next to the back entry of it. I hurried down the steps to answer the summons. Outside, Porter stood dressed in a suit and topcoat that made him look handsomer than usual. I smiled and invited him in.

“You look stunning in that dress, Melina,” he said and gave me the once over twice.

I laughed happily and thanked him as I slipped into my coat and checked my small purse. Lipstick, keys, money and my driver’s license. I snapped the purse shut and tucked my arm into the crook of Porter’s elbow. “Let’s get this party started,” I said.

His good humor lasted the entire evening. We drank, ate, and danced until I thought my feet would never be the same. The hour had grown late. Out on the nightclub patio, I heard his phone jingle from inside his jacket and waited quietly while he answered the call. He didn’t say much, but spoke in two or three word sentences, acknowledging the information he was given. I knew then and there that our evening of fun had come to an end.

He tucked the phone into his pocket and gave me a disappointed look. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Sorry, Melina. The evening has been great, and I’d like to take you out again if you’re willing to put up with me.”

I gave him a kiss on the cheek and said, “I’d like that. I’ll get my coat.”

Inside, other cops readied to leave with their wives and girlfriends in tow. So this was the life they’d had to adjust to? Momentarily, I wondered how many birthdays and other celebrations these cops missed because of their jobs.

A police officer escorted me home while Porter responded to the scene of the crime. I hadn’t asked what the crime was, nor did I care. As long as it didn’t center on me and mine, I was fine with the situation.

At the door, I thanked the officer for the ride home. He smiled, said it was no problem, and left. I heaved a sigh and went inside, made some tea and kicked off my shoes. I didn’t think I’d enjoy being part of a police family. It wasn’t my idea of what family should consist of. Aidan Sinclair’s face popped into my mind. He was the reason. I knew it as sure as I knew the sun would rise in the morning.

My phone rang. Porter’s silky voice came across the line. “I wanted to check that you arrived home safe and sound. McGinty dropped you at the door, then?”

“He did, thanks. Are you still at the crime scene?”

“It looks like it’ll be a long night into a longer day. I had a great time, Melina. We’ll get together soon.”

In the background I heard his name being called. He said he’d be in touch and hung up. I smiled, considered his thoughtfulness, and then headed upstairs to change. There was bread to be made for the morning crowd and while I’d left the dough to rise, it was time to undertake the baking process.

A few hours passed without interruptions, but then, it was the middle of the night and who the hell would be apt to stop in now? I snickered at the idea and pulled loaves of miche bread from the humongous oven, a rectangular, country-style French pan loaf that smelled heavenly and tasted even better. I laid them on the cooling rack and pulled several loaves of marbled rye from within the oven and set them to cool beside loaves of pumpernickel and potato bread.

Lines of rolls awaited packaging. It took a while, but I got them all bagged and tied, ready for display. I glanced at the clock, yawned, and headed upstairs when the phone rang again. Geez, now who?

Reluctant as I was to answer, I worried the call concerned Seanmhair. I picked up the phone.

“Melina Cameron,” I said.

“This is Mark Lyons, the Greenwood Apartment Complex coordinator. There’s been a fire and though no one was seriously injured, I was asked to call you to come over and get your grandmother.”

Mind boggled at his words, panic ran through me as quickly as wildfire in a heavy wind. “Is she all right? I-I’ll be right there.” Without waiting for his answer and knowing he’d hardly tell me if she’d been hurt, I hung up, reached for my coat, grabbed my evening purse, and ran full tilt for the parking lot out back.

My little Fiat flew through quiet streets until I came upon a mass of fire trucks and rescue personnel outside the complex where Seanmhair lived. My adrenalin was out of control as was worry for Sean. I parked at the end of the street and raced up the sidewalk.

A paramedic loaded gear into the outer side section of the rescue. I recognized him from having been in the shop and as the man in charge when he turned as I laid my hand on his arm and asked, “Is Seanmhair all right?”

His face soot smudged, his smile was pure white. “She’s over there. Scared, but fine. You’ve got one spunky grandmother, Melina,” Eric Monroe admitted with a shake of his head.

I could only imagine the ration of shit she might have given the rescue team, and their firefighting cohorts, when they’d arrived and told everyone to leave the premises. I thanked him and searched the crowd for Seanmhair, who was short, round, and hard to find with so many people milling around.

“Sean,” I said when I found her. I hugged her tight and then studied her bedraggled appearance. Smoke streaked her face as she looked at me with her bright blue eyes.

She rose from the stone wall she’d been perched on and began to cry. Between sobs, she told me how the fire had begun on the floor above hers. She’d smelled smoke before the alarms went off and had called the emergency people to make them aware.

“They got here fairly soon, but the building was smoking by then,” Seanmhair explained.

I grinned a bit at her ‘smoking’ term. “Come home with me. We’ll get you straightened out tomorrow. It’s freezing out here, Sean. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” I put my arm around her shoulder and herded her toward the car.

“I don’t have any clothes, I can’t leave,” she moaned.

“Not to worry, we’ll figure something out. Come on, now, get in the car and buckle up,” I urged.

One moment she appeared ready to bolt back to the complex, and the next she did as asked without a word. Once settled in the car, Seanmhair asked, “Could you check to see if Connor made it out of the building all right?”

“Sure, you stay put. I’ll be right back.” I skirted the crowds of onlookers and residents alike in search of anyone who could give me the information. When Eric came into view, I took a chance that he’d be able to help me.

“Do you happen to know if Connor Graham is all right?” I asked.

He scanned the clipboard tucked under his arm, and then said, “He was taken to the hospital with smoke inhalation. Don’t worry, Melina, he’ll be fine. Now, go home, please.” He pointed to the gawkers and said with a smirk, “They make our job difficult, don’t be part of that difficulty.”