Trudy, Madly, Deeply (Working Stiffs Mystery Series) (18 page)

“It’s just that I heard the news—”

“That Dr. Straitham put me on a diet.”

Backing away, Rox shrugged. “It was a slow news day. Maybe I should call Steve to come pick you up.”

Hell, no! “I’m fine,” I said, waving her off.

I just needed to lose thirty pounds, string more than two hours of sleep together, and figure out if someone was working in a deadly partnership with Virginia Straitham.

Fortunately, Jake taught a midday aerobics class at the senior center. An hour with him might be just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

I woke up out of a margarita-induced haze to the sound of my mother giggling on the front porch.

Heaven help me. I could hear Barry Ferris’ voice like he was in the room with me. No wonder my grandfather had camped out in the den to wait up for me every time I’d had a date.

“Mmmmmm ….”

Now, it was kissy face time.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked when he came up for air.

Yes, and it was way more than I wanted to know.

I glared at the clock. Three-sixteen. I could lie in bed until I couldn’t take it anymore, or—since I had crossed that threshold at three-fifteen—I could give up any illusions I had of nightmare-free slumber, make a pot of coffee, and look out the window to see if Steve’s truck was in his driveway.

I’m a dessert first kind of girl, so I drew the curtain back and took a bit of twisted consolation when I spotted the Ford pickup parked next to his unmarked, Port Merritt PD Crown Victoria and knew he was sleeping in his own bed.

Now, if I could just purge the sounds of my mother sucking face with Mr. Ferris from my brainpan, I could be a happy, dessert first kind of girl. That was, if it weren’t for the fact that this was supposed to be my first day on my new diet. Oh, and I had a noon-hour aerobics class with a potential murder suspect.

Marietta must have tiptoed up the stairs while I made coffee, because when I passed her room to take a shower, I heard giggling. I prayed to God she was alone. If she was screwing Mr. Ferris on my bed, I’d have to set a match to it and bring in a shaman to do a ritual cleansing of my room.

After I showered and dried my hair enough to clip it back, I listened at her door. Nothing but light snoring.

All the Digby women snored.

We tended to have sparse eyelashes, cellulite, and we snored. Marietta never revealed her shortcomings early in her relationships, so I knew she had to be sleeping alone this morning.

Grateful for small mercies, I celebrated with a cup of coffee, then I squeezed into a belted, short-sleeved khaki pantsuit I’d found on a fifty percent off rack in San Francisco. It seemed as lackluster as I felt, so I tied a moss green animal print scarf around my neck to add a little color. Marietta had brought the scarf home with her from shooting a low-budget movie in Thailand the year I’d gotten married. Not my favorite thing, but if she never saw me wear the clothes she bought me, she got a little pissy.

No one wanted to see a pissy Marietta Moreau, least of all me, so the scarf was an easy fashion choice this morning.

I slipped on a pair of butterscotch brown leather sandals, refilled my travel mug with extra strength French roast, and headed for Duke’s.

Aunt Alice was standing behind a white mixing bowl on the butcher block table when I stepped into the kitchen. She glanced at the clock mounted above a vintage red and white Coca Cola sign. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s not even light out.”

“I had an early wake up call,” I said, omitting any mention of my mother. “Thought I might as well come in and make myself useful.”

Scratching the bald spot in the middle of his crew cut, Duke frowned at my khaki pantsuit. “In that? What’re you doing? Going on safari?”

“Cute.” I set my travel mug on the stainless steel counter behind me. “What do you want me to get started on?”

“Bake me a couple dozen cinnamon rolls, and I’ll consider it a down payment on the patty melt I’ll be making you later,” he said with a wink.

I knew the wink had nothing to do with the patty melt. Instead it told me that he was grateful to lighten Alice’s load.

“I’m on a diet. It’ll be a salad.” Maybe. If I had time to eat after aerobics class.

Duke chortled. “Okay, a salad. We’ll see how long this diet lasts.”

I didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “It’ll last.” At least long enough to convince everyone that I was following Dr. Straitham’s advice.

Wincing, Alice eased herself down on her stool. “I can make the damned cinnamon rolls. Go fill up the salt and pepper shakers if you want something to do.”

I met Duke’s gaze from across the kitchen. His lips flatlined as he shook his head.

Alice gingerly swiveled on her stool to pull a sack of flour from the rack behind her, and I waved Duke away so that I could talk to her alone.

He grabbed his empty cup and reached for hers. “More coffee, honey?”

“No,” she barked, short and very unsweet.

After the kitchen door swung shut behind Duke, I took the wooden stool opposite Alice.

She reached for the canister of sugar in the center of the table and glowered at me.

I lowered my head, making myself eye level with her. “Okay, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Says you.”

“You look like something hurts.”

“At my age something always hurts, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.”

“Clearly, you’re not. I’m going to make a doctor’s appointment for you.”

Dr. Straitham wouldn’t be too thrilled to see me in his office two days in a row. Maybe I could convince Marietta to tag along as a consolation prize for the old hound dog.

“The hell you are!” Alice said, raising her voice.

“Something’s wrong and you need to go to the doctor.”

“I’m not going.” Her watery hazel eyes narrowed.

“I know what you think, but Dr. Straitham isn’t—”

“It’s just a little gas. It’s nothing.”

Lie.
Something was very wrong, and she knew it better than I did.

She focused on the egg she had cracked into the mixing bowl and reached for another. “I thought you wanted to make yourself useful.”

I was trying. She wouldn’t let me.

Duke peeked around the corner and met my gaze. “So, what’s the verdict?”

While Alice cracked another egg like she wanted to smash it into Duke’s skull, I shrugged at the loaded question that I didn’t know how to answer without making the situation worse.

“Tell you what, since I can have bran muffins on my diet …” The size of a pea maybe, not the jumbo muffins Duke’s featured, but it didn’t matter. I knew Alice wouldn’t fight me over a few lousy muffins.

“… I’m going to make a couple dozen.” I reached for a stainless steel mixing bowl. “Maybe some banana nut ones, too. Both have good fiber and I can decide which one I want later.”

Alice sniffed and cracked another egg. Her non-response was as good as a green light.

Three hours later, I added a dozen raspberry scones to the bakery shelf, next to Alice’s cinnamon rolls, flanked by all the muffins and cookies I’d baked.

The bell over the door jingled and I met Steve’s gaze.

His brown eyes shifted to the white apron I had on over my pantsuit. “You’re up early.”

“It’s my curse.” Which lately wasn’t far from the truth.

He shot me a lopsided smile. “Thought you’d do a little baking before you went out on safari?”

“Everybody’s a comedian this morning,” I said, heading back into the kitchen.

My great-aunt would snap at me like a turtle defending her nest if I offered to help her with the pie crust she was laboring to roll out, so I decided I might as well join Steve for breakfast.

After hanging up my apron, I stepped around Duke on my way to the tureen of oatmeal he’d made an hour earlier.

“Thanks, kid,” he muttered.

I grabbed a small bowl from the shelf over the stove. “If she gets any worse let me know, and I’ll drag her sorry butt to the doctor.”

Duke nodded, staring down at the bacon and eggs sputtering on the grill.

As I ladled some oatmeal into my bowl, I met Steve’s questioning gaze. I couldn’t address any of his concerns about Alice with her sitting behind me in the kitchen, so I took my oatmeal to the counter and sat next to him.

I noticed he didn’t have any coffee. Lucille was busy huddling with Suzy and several of the Gray Ladies at the back table, no doubt getting her daily dose from the rumor mill.

“Did you order?” I asked him.

“Never mind that. What’s going on with Alice?”

“I don’t know.” I stepped behind the counter and pulled out two white mugs, filled them from the pot of coffee Lucille had just brewed, and pushed one in front of Steve. “I tried to get her to go to the doctor but she absolutely refuses.”

“Not everyone enjoys seeing Dr. Straitham as much as you do,” he said, dumping the contents of a creamer into his cup.

I hit Steve with a sideways glance as I took my seat. “Okay, so I was wrong about him. It was an honest mistake.”

“It was one step removed from stalking.”

Lucille squeaked in our direction and reached for the pencil tucked behind her ear. “What will you have, hon?” she asked Steve. “The usual?”

“Fine.” He picked up his coffee mug. “Are you going to leave the man alone now?”

Lucille arched her sandy brown eyebrows, her gossip antennae fully extended.

“It’s nothing juicy,” I said to her between spoonfuls of oatmeal.

She heaved a sigh and squeaked away to tack Steve’s breakfast order on the aluminum wheel above the grill.

I turned to Steve. “You told me Dr. Straitham had an alibi.”

Staring straight ahead, he took a sip of coffee.

I leaned on the counter to get a better view of his face. “How did you know that?”

“Knock it off.”

“It’s a reasonable question.”

“Then ask it like a reasonable person, without the stare-down.”

“Fine!” I glared at my bowl of congealed oatmeal. “How did you know that he was … indisposed?”

“Your grandmother told me.”

Chapter Sixteen

I gaped at Steve’s profile as he calmly sipped his coffee. “My grandmother?”

“She’s my snitch.”

Big fat lie
. “Your snitch, right.”

“She and I prefer the term informant,” he quipped, the crinkles deepening at the corner of his right eye.

“You are so full of shit.”

His mouth twisted into an evil grin. “I had you going for a minute.”

“Jerk.”

Lucille squeaked up with a carafe and refilled our coffee mugs. She looked at me and then at Steve. “Okay, I give. What’s going on with you two?”

Who knew? Last night we were practically dancing cheek to cheek, and this morning it was like we were back in the fifth grade and he was pulling my ponytail.

“Nothing,” I said as I poured two creamers into my coffee. I was blowing my diet but that was the least of my problems.

Ignoring Lucille who watched us like we were the tennis match on center court, I shifted my attention back to Steve. “I take it that means you’re not going to tell me?”

“What do you think?” he asked, brushing my fingers as he reached for another creamer.

I wiped my hands with the paper napkin in my lap. I knew I was overreacting to a little incidental contact, but I’d already experienced all the physical contact from Steve Sixkiller that I could handle in a twenty-four hour period.

Lucille sucked in a sharp breath. “Is there new information about Trudy’s … ?”

I shook my head while Mr. Won’t-Answer-Direct-Questions stirred his coffee.

“Damn.” Scowling at Steve, she stabbed the air with her index finger. “You should be out there investigating, not in here dilly dallying.”

Steve smiled politely. “May I eat my breakfast first?”

“Order up!” Duke announced.

Lucille turned to retrieve Steve’s bacon and eggs, then bounced the plate in front of him. “Eat fast.”

“I’d do what she says if you want to come back tomorrow,” I said, swiveling out of my seat.

Steve poked a runny yolk with the corner of his toast. “Sheesh, the women around here can make it hard on a guy.”

“He’s just figuring that out now?” Duke muttered as I added my bowl to the plastic tub of dirty dishes under the counter.

I was about to go back and check on Alice when I saw her limping with a pie in her hands. “Need any help with that?”

“Nope,” she said, easing past me. “Just stay out of the way.”

Since I could see four more pies cooling on the table, I carried them on a tray to the rotating pie display case by the cash register before Alice could snarl at me about helping her.

“I could have done that,” she protested.

I slid an apple pie onto the top shelf of the four-tier glass case. “Yeah, you could have agreed to go to the doctor, too.”

She huffed as she limped around me. “Leave it alone.”

“Do you need to go to the doctor, Alice?” Suzy asked, her pale blue eyes fixed in a piercing stare as she stood at the cash register.

Alice turned toward the kitchen. “No. I just have some family members who like to meddle.”

I forced a smile at Suzy. “I think that would be me.”

“What’s the matter with her?” she whispered.

I knew Alice didn’t want anyone else hovering over her, so I opted for an evasive answer. “Just having a bad day.” I cranked up the wattage of my smile. “That was a good turnout for your class last night.”

“I was happy to see you there. You and Steve make good partners.”

I shifted my gaze to the counter and saw Steve staring at us over the rim of his coffee cup. No doubt his male ego sensed we were talking about him.

“Since I kept stepping on his toes, I think he preferred dancing with my grandmother.”

Suzy’s lips curled in satisfaction. “I sincerely doubt that.”

Between this chick’s fishing expedition regarding my relationship with Steve and his watchful eyes, I felt like I needed to set sail for calmer waters.

“Speaking of dancing, where did you learn to tango?”

“A dance class a few years ago. I thought it would be a good way to meet people.”