Trudy, Madly, Deeply (Working Stiffs Mystery Series) (23 page)

True.
And he made no effort to deny the fact that Trudy’s murder was the tip of this iceberg.

I sucked in a breath. “That’s why you were there Tuesday. You’ve been investigating this all along!”

“Walk away from this, Char.”

“But I can help. I’m going to his aerobics class now and—”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? Find something else to do for a couple of weeks and stay away from the senior center.”

“But—”

“And that includes Tango Tuesday!”

“But if you’re—”

“Chow Mein, trust me on this,” he said, his voice low, calm.

“What are you going to do?”

“Trust me and let it go.”

Not the answer I wanted to hear. “I trust you.” I picked up my beer and headed for the door.

“What are you doing?” he called after me.

“Letting it go.” More or less.

* * *

Steve fixed me with a molten chocolate gaze as he held me tight on the dance floor. “Let go, Char.”

“You’re not exactly making it easy,” I said, the skirt of my little black dress swaying in rhythm to Hernando’s Hideaway.

He guided me back, step by seductive step. “It’s easier than you think. Trust me.” He cradled me in his arms, his lips closing in on mine.

Suddenly, I was staring into eyes as cold as death, and the music stopped.

Leaning over my hospital bed, Jake kissed me lightly on the lips. “Goodbye.”

Goodbye?

“Steve!” I screamed, searching the room for him.

While Jake stroked my hair with one hand, he reached for a hypodermic needle with the other. “Shhhh. Relax. It will be over soon.”

“No!”

Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

Jolting awake, I pushed back the covers and bolted out of the hide-a-bed.

Sucking down oxygen like I’d run all the way home from the hospital, I stood at the foot of the Crippler and stared at the only thing that had been hovering over my bed—the orange and white tail of my grandmother’s tabby.

A bead of cold sweat trickled down my back. “Dammit, Myron!”

Myron leapt onto the window ledge behind the hide-a-bed and proceeded to clean himself.

At least one of us wasn’t bothered by my nightmare on G Street.

My flesh prickly with goosebumps, I raced upstairs to the bathroom to shake off what had to be the result of a beer-infused, hyperactive subconscious. Either that or a sadistic one. Although I had looked damned good in that black dress.

After a long, hot shower I was finally able to wash away my fear of dancing boogeymen with hypodermic needles. I took the easy route with my hair and pulled it back into my tortoiseshell clip, and then swiped on a layer of mascara and some lip gloss. Finally, I pulled on a pair of navy slacks and an oversized navy and white polka dotted tunic—Patsy attire, nothing that would turn heads. After the dream I’d had, perfect.

Fifteen minutes later, Aunt Alice frowned at me as I tied the strings of a white apron around my waist and joined her at her work table. “You’re making a bad habit out of these early mornings,” she said sharply.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead or when Marietta leaves, whichever happens first.”

My great-aunt grimaced as she flattened piecrust dough with her rolling pin. “Why is she still here?”

The reasons why my mother blew in and out of my life always had everything to do with when she was needed in front of a camera or the latest man in her life.

“I’m sure she’ll leave next week some time.” When her presence was required in Los Angeles to shoot her next infomercial.

My more immediate concern was Alice, standing statue still with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Aunt Alice, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just have a little hitch in my giddy-up is all.”

Lie.
A whopper of a lie that didn’t begin to explain the pasty pallor of her skin.

Duke stood by the fryer and met my gaze while he dipped a couple of sour cream old-fashioneds into chocolate glaze. He slowly shook his head, concern etched into every line of his grizzled face.

“You’ve had this ‘hitch’ for days. Let me take you to the doctor,” I said to Alice.

She sucked in a breath as she eased herself down onto her wooden stool. “Don’t be ridiculous. You don’t run to the doctor because of a little bit of gas.”

Whatever this was, it wasn’t a little bit of gas, but she was stubbornly sticking to the same lame story.

I grabbed a bowl and reached for the bag of flour.

She scowled at me. “What are you doing?”

“I need a bran muffin … for my diet.” If she could stick to her lame story, so could I.

Almost three hours later, I’d stocked the bakery shelves with very little protest from Alice and the last of the pies were in the oven. I’d expected her to take a break and have something to eat. Instead, I saw her wincing as she measured flour into a stainless steel mixing bowl. “I thought we were done with the baking.”

“This is for Norm,” she said, reaching for the salt. “Sour cream apple. His favorite pie.”

Norm Bergeson had rarely come to Duke’s pie happy hour even before Trudy’s death. That meant that Alice planned to make a house call. Not only did I smell the heavenly aroma of pie crust venting from the oven, I sniffed some luck wafting my way.

“He barely ate anything last week,” Alice added.

Last Saturday we’d left the man with a month’s worth of cake and casseroles. If he was going hungry, it wasn’t because he had an empty refrigerator.

Alice sliced a stick of butter into her bowl. “I’m just going to see how he’s doing. I owe that much to Trudy.”

“You know, I’m planning on taking an early lunch today.” I wasn’t until a minute ago. “I could stop by before noon, then drive you over to Norm’s.” And on the way back, drag her into Dr. Straitham’s office.

She pursed her lips. “I’m perfectly capable—”

“Sounds like a perfect plan,” Duke said as he grabbed a flat of eggs from the refrigerator behind me.

“I don’t need to be babied,” Alice grumbled. “I’m fine.”

I smiled at her. “You know I don’t believe you.”

She scoffed. “That lie-dar of yours isn’t infallible.”

“True.” I reached into my tote and pulled out the invitation addressed to Duke and Alice. “But if you don’t feel better by tomorrow, you might not be able to come to the party.”

Alice frowned at the white envelope. “What party?”

“Your sister’s eightieth birthday party,” I said.

Lucille squeaked in our direction with a coffee carafe, her eyes widening at the envelope in my hand. “Did I hear something about a party?”

Yes, and I didn’t have an invitation with her name on it.

“Eleanor’s eightieth birthday,” Alice said to Lucille. “I forgot all about it. Can you imagine that?”

Lucille refilled Alice’s cup. “You’ve been a little under the weather. You’re entitled to forget a couple of things.”

She turned to me expectantly, waiting. I knew it wasn’t to see if I wanted a coffee refill.

“It’s just a barbeque,” I said. “Family and a few friends.” I hoped she would get the hint.

She did, loud and clear. And by Lucille’s pained expression I might as well have backed over her with my car.

Good grief.
I reached into my tote for the envelope addressed to Gladys, pulled out the embossed invitation and handed it to Lucille.

Sorry, Gladys.
“I hope you’ll be able to make it.”

Lucille beamed and slipped the invitation into her front pocket. “I wouldn’t miss it!”

“Good save,” Duke whispered in my ear as Lucille squeaked away. “We never would have heard the end of that one.”

True. And I had no intention of adding Complaint Department Manager to my business card. Assuming I’d be getting business cards.

Duke ambled toward the grill. “Mornin’, Steve.”

My heartbeat quickened at the mention of Steve’s name. Stupid dream.

Now was as good a time as ever to complete my delivery service duty, so I slid the white envelope addressed to him onto the counter, next to his coffee cup. “With compliments from my mother.”

Steve glared at it like it was an invitation to a baby shower.

“She’s throwing a birthday party for Gram,” I said.

He folded the invitation into his back pocket. “You couldn’t just tell me about it?”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

The silver bell over the door jingled as Jake Divine walked in. He gave me a friendly wave, kicking my pulse into hyperdrive.

I locked onto Steve’s gaze. “Jake’s here.”

“And probably not to see you. I know I’m wasting my breath, but try to act normally.”

Act normally. Sure, I could do that.

Maybe.

Steve drained his coffee mug. “I could use some more coffee.”

“Uh huh,” I muttered, staring at Jake as he swung a leg around the barstool two down from Steve.

Jake smiled as bright and sunny as the summer morning. “Good morning!”

His cheerful demeanor didn’t set off any warning signs to suggest that he was doing anything more than stopping in for some breakfast before work. But since I had just paid a visit to his mother yesterday, I doubted that he had a sudden hankering for bacon and eggs.

“Morning,” I said, suddenly spitless.

He cocked his head. “Do you work here?”

“Uh … I help out some.”

“Lucky me,” he said with a predatory smile.

And unlucky me.

Since Lucille was busy giving the Gray Ladies their checks, I plopped a menu and a white mug in front of Jake and reached for the carafe. “Coffee?”

“Never touch the stuff.”

Steve pushed his mug at me. “I do.”

My hand shook as I filled Steve’s coffee mug.

“Relax,” Steve whispered.

Like that could happen.

Jake’s gaze tracked me as I returned the carafe to the warmer. “Will I see you in class tomorrow?” he asked.

Heck no. “Maybe. If I can get away.”

Jake nodded, assessing, appraising. He raised his water glass to me. “I’ll look forward to tomorrow then.”

Wow, this guy was good. I had a feeling that the petite blonde closing in on us like a buff swat team of one thought so, too.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Suzy possessively placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder and leveled her ice blue gaze at me. She smiled, a thin veil over the stormy flash of anger I’d just witnessed.

She waved a green order ticket at me. “Would you mind ringing me up? I’m in a bit of a hurry.” She turned to Jake. “See you later.”

“Later,” he said, winking at me.

Criminy! Did he have to act so cavalier in front of his girlfriend?

I followed Suzy to the cash register. With a frosty glare, she handed me the order ticket and a crisp ten dollar bill. “What are you doing?”

Huh? “Making change.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Just now, with Jake?”

She squinted at me with the same look of disdain as the master chef who had once referred to my pumpkin banana mousse as “barfait.” He was right, of course. I should have rethought the pumpkin.

I didn’t need to rethink anything having to do with Jake. I needed to get away from him—his crazy girlfriend, too.

“Steve and I were just talking with Jake,” I said.

“Steve and you ….” The tension in Suzy’s thin lips eased into a cool smile. “Good, because Jake isn’t for you.”

It didn’t look like Jake would be the one for her, either, but I couldn’t exactly inform her that it was because her boyfriend was destined for some big, hairy dude in cell block D.

Suzy slipped her change into her wallet and smiled sweet as one of my grandmother’s sugar cookies. “Have a great day.”

The odds of that happening were only slightly better than me being able to fit into my little black dress in the harsh light of day.

As Suzy started for the door, I raced to the kitchen to make a getaway to the courthouse, but before I had a chance to pull off my apron, Lucille rounded the corner.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked, her face flushed.

Duke and Alice turned to face Lucille.

“Peggy was rushed to the hospital this morning. The girls were just telling me that she felt tingling in her left arm, so Carmen took her to the ER. They’re running tests, but it looks like she had a heart attack.”

Alice sucked in a breath. “Oh dear.”

Lucille nodded. “If I were her husband, I’d be standing vigil over my wife the next couple of nights,” she announced, ladling Steve’s oatmeal into a bowl.

I hated agreeing with the resident conspiracy theorist, but since all the murders had taken place after midnight, an all-night vigil seemed like a good precaution.

“Here we go again,” Duke said with a groan as he plated a stack of pancakes.

Not if I could help it.

I glanced through the cutout window in front of Duke and met the inquiring eyes of Jake Divine. He crooked his finger at me.

I swallowed the growing lump in my throat and took the bowl of oatmeal from Lucille. “I’m heading that way.” And I didn’t want her to. The last thing we needed was for Peggy to be offered up as the killer’s next victim because of Lucille’s loose lips.

Steve sipped his coffee as he watched me round the corner.

I set the bowl in front of Steve and turned to Jake. “I’m sure Lucille will be right over with your order. I actually have to go to work, so—”

“Did I just hear her say that Peggy had a heart attack?” Jake asked without an iota of emotion.

Shit.
And Steve thought I had a loud inside voice.

“I really don’t know,” I said in little more than a whisper, my chest fluttering with butterflies ready to take flight to the nearest exit. “Lucille doesn’t always get her facts straight, so I wouldn’t make too much out of anything you might have heard.”

“I’ll call the hospital when I get to work. If it was a heart attack, I’m sure Arlene will want to send flowers.” He punctuated the statement with a charmer’s smile, but his dark eyes held as much warmth as my ex-husband’s when he handed me the keys to his Jaguar.

“Flowers are nice.” But a bodyguard would make a more useful gift.

I locked eyes with Steve as Lucille delivered Jake’s breakfast order.

Steve shook his head.

Walk away, Char.

I excused myself, grabbed my tote and sprinted to the parking lot, where I promptly threw up.